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0bticeo · 19 days

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lurk | feyd rautha

part 3 of five. (part 1.) (part 2.) (part 4.)

summary:

the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

wc: 4k.

tw: blood, gore, possessive feyd rautha, bene gesserit shenanigans, determinism but make it sexy, bit of knife play, blood play, wound fucking, fingering, oral (fem recieving), somewhat sub feyd, breeding, inkpie, brief mention of cockwarming.

you’re kneeling. or rather, two guards are forcing you down on your knees, fingers digging in the meat of your shoulder until they reach the bone. you hold back a wince.

you fail.

your breath is heavy, stuttering little gasps leaving your lips with droplets of blood. your left side is on fire, each inhale pure, agonizing torture. use the voice and they’ll kill you.

you’re kneeling before baron vladimir harkonnen in his personal chambers, in a tattered robe. it’s filthy, the way he looks at you like you’re prized meat.

you bare your teeth.

“such defiance, atreides.” from the murky depths of his bath, he tilts his head. volutes of smoke escape his parted lips, slithering towards you. “tell me, why should i let you live?”

careful.

plans within plans within plans. you can’t let your feeble control over the situation escape you. inhale. choke on your scream - like hell you’ll show him your pain.

“if i weren’t useful to your plans, i would be dead.”

an image flashes in your mind’s eye. a spider woven out of human flesh, the mangled bodies of harkonnen prisoners frankensteined together. barely alive. an eternity of torment.

the baron laughs, a deep, cavernous rumbling. it fills the penumbra, fills you with dread. your shoulders tense - nervous impulse. you’re not in control.

“fair enough.” he inches forward, the gigantic mass of him rippling through filthy waters. “where is your brother?”

pain. it ripples through you, sinks its claws in your chest and freezes there, a sinking weight. you can’t breathe. you push through.

“he’s already given his last breath to the sands of arrakis.”

“how would you know?”

“dreams.”

the answer escapes your gritted teeth with frightening rapidity. good. let him think pain clouds your judgment. let him see you as weaker than you really are.

one of the guards tightens his hold, forces you to stand straight. blood drips down your lip. you will not scream.

“dreams?”

the subtle narrowing of his eyes. a quirk of his lip. disbelief. intrigue.

“i’ve followed my mother’s footsteps.”

“ah, lady jessica.”

keep her name out of your mouth.

he leans back in the bathtub. silence settles. stretches. stretches. he’s pensive, the baron. his lips wrap at the end of the pipe, mouth like a maw swallowing it, releasing acrid smoke that burns you. spice.

(visions. shai hulud deemed your brother worthy. on they go. march south or die. maybe the sands haven’t consumed him yet.)

nervous exhaustion settles in. they haven’t treated your wounds. it takes every ounce of energy to remain conscious, every inch of pride to will your muscles to stop trembling. your vision blurs at the edges.

“i’ll ask again, atreides. why should i let you live?”

bastard. you’re on your last legs. he has you cornered.

“because you’d have to kill your heir if you don’t.”

now that catches his attention.

“go on.”

careful. there’s a thin line between usefulness and danger. do not step on the wrong side.

“he’s recognized me in the arena."

the ghost of his touch against the wicked scar of your forearm. the flash of a grin, black teeth like a promise inked at the back of your skull.

you fought well, atreides.

behind your back, your nails dig into your palms.

“he’ll ruin you.”

“is that so?”

skepticism. amusement.

“do you think it wise to try and find out, baron?”

silence. fate looms over you. spins its web in the calculated gaze of the baron, gaze like cold steel cutting through you.

your life is in his hands and he relishes in it. in having you, half bare before him, chest heaving with each stuttering breath, red darkening the black of your dress.

you watch him lick his lips and shiver with disgust.

“do you think it wise to threaten me when i have wiped your house from the surface of the known galaxy?”

oh, right on a silver platter.

your mouth drips shadows as you bare your teeth in a grin.

“only because you were backed up by the imperium and its sardaukar.” you cough. blood drips on the ground. “you were a pawn, and that scum of an emperor could deem you a threat, too.”

a beat.

he’s smiling.

“you’ll be of use, atreides.”

a wave of his hand.

the guards move. drag you up until you’re standing on faltering legs. defiant, still. breath ragged, panting, blood pooling at your feet. you feel soiled, with the way the baron looks at you, eyes dragging down to your womb.

there’s a commotion behind you. you still. in your state, you’ve neglected to analyze your surroundings, only focusing on the biggest threat in the room. you didn’t take into account the harkonnen court behind you. atreides. the baron practically signed your death.

shit.

your vision is darkening in the corners.

“i ought to drown you in that tub.”

feyd-rautha, voice a low growl borne out of primal fury. feyd-rautha, in dark robes, shadow among shadows. you catch the slow twitch of his pale hand, the instinctual gesture of nerves calling for a familiar blade. to kill or protect, you do not know.

the guards freeze. you’re left there, struggling to stand, sweat dripping down your back with the effort of staying upright. how utterly humiliating.

“do not be hasty, my dear nephew.”

a ripple. the baron is chuckling. you feel it coming, the sense of doom, in the way the court holds its breath, in the flash of uncertainty in the na-baron’s eyes.

“i have another gift for you.”

“her.”

you.

one step, two, until he’s facing you.

he snarls at the guards. they let go of you. you collapse, only stopped from slamming upon the marble floors by two strong arms.

he’s pulling you in his chest, arm wrapping around your waist. you shudder, nerves alight with the instinctual need to get away from this place, from the baron’s lecherous’ stare, from the court’s bloodlust.

i must not fear. fear is the mind killer. fear is the little-death that brings total obliteration. i will face my fear-

you don’t realize you’ve been shaking until a hand settles at the back of your head. warm. comforting. rubbing small circles in your scalp until you relax, if only by a fraction. he won’t let them harm you - you know it, deep in your soul.

“yes, her.” dismissive. “and a bigger one. arrakis.”

you feel it, the way the na-baron’s body tenses, the ripple of the hard planes of his chest under the soft silk of his clothes. anticipation. unease. you press your cheek to his heart, listen to the erratic pulse of it.

“what about rabban?”

“he has failed to protect the spice production.”

paul. your fingers clench in your palm, piercing the skin.

“tame arrakis feyd. free the spice, and i’ll make you emperor.”

you still. he who controls the spice has ultimate power over the known galaxy. power is power. knowledge is power.

“how?”

“use me.”

they still. rapt attention falls upon you. your fingers dig into the na-baron’s forearm like a vice to remain upright.

“if the great houses were to learn that the emperor ordered an entire house to be wiped out, they would question his authority. rebel. wage war until one comes on top.” you swallow blood. “you’ll have me as a living witness and weapon.”

“a weapon, huh?”

feyd-rautha looks down at you. there’s something awfully calculating in the way he assesses you, in the way his fingers curl over your hip - possessive. protective.

the baron rises by a fraction, mephistopheles bargaining.

“will you side with us, atreides?”

you let out a shaky breath. laughter. you’re laughing at him, at the absurdity of the situation - you, last of your house, striking a deal with the devil for revenge.

“i will. i only ask for one thing in return - the emperor’s head.”

the baron’s gaze is riveted to you. he nods. bargain sealed.

“this must not leave this room.”

feyd-rautha springs into action, blades drawn out of their sheaths before the baron finishes his sentence.

bodies fall.

carnifex. the butcher. oh, he’s gorgeous, feyd-rautha, twin blades slicing through gaping throats, droplets of blood landing on his pale cheek.

the baron immerses himself in that wretched bath, until it’s only you and the apex predator that is him.

you take a step forward. two. three. until you’re facing him, slowly raising your hand. the motion alone has you gasping for breath. still, you persist, until your fingers settle on his cheek, thumb wiping away at the gore sprayed there.

he leans into your touch, eyes half-lidded, nuzzling in your palm. his own hand cradles yours, warm, smearing blood on your skin. his lips press against your palm, against the many half-moons your nails have left in their wake.

“come, my little atreides,” he mutters. “you need medical attention.”

his eyes sink into yours, magnetic, all consuming. they dart to your parted lips, to the blood coating them. he leans in, breath like fire upon your soul, upon your awaiting mouth.

your breath stutters.

oh.

“catch me, feyd.”

you fall.

fall until you stand in the desert of arrakis. paul has his back turned to you, silhouette burning bright in your retina. corpses. they’re burning, all of them, and with the stench of sun-charred flesh rises a litany. lisan al gaib.

lead them to paradise.

you want to scream. you want to reach out for cruel fate and rip her asunder with your bare hands until that twisted future is no more.

you do not know whether your brother is the kwisatz haderach. you do not know if there is a kwisatz haderach, what’s with the missionaria protectiva’s wretched tale.

warmth seeps in your womb, the gentle press of a lover’s hand. you do not know if the child you’ll bear will be the one.

desert sands slips from your fingers.

you just want your family back.

feyd doesn’t expect it, the moment you collapse in his arms with a whispered plea. still, he catches you. slides his arms under the back of your knees and pulls you close, where he knows no harm would come to you.

who would possibly dare to cross him?

warmth spreads across his hand. blood, he realizes. your wound, that vicious strike of his hasn’t been treated. fury washes over him, gaping maw sinking in his heart. it is vicious, too, that fury.

it tells him of blood and death and destruction. death to the baron. death and misery upon those who’ve wronged you - doesn’t matter if he has to face the sardaukar, for he is legion.

the hallways are empty. servants have long deserted the baron’s quarters, knowing not to disturb him. good. no one must know of your presence here.

he looks down at you, at your wan face, at the blood dripping down your chin, spreading, spreading down your throat.

he cannot let you die.

he cannot compromise himself more than he already has by threatening the doctors to kill them should you die in their hands. he leaves you in their care and strides back to his own chambers. they’ll notify him of your condition.

you, last atreides left standing. you, with your sharp wit, sharp blade and sharper smile. you, feral, snarling at him in the arena. you, hands dipped in ink darker than black, spreading it over his back.

he had felt your warmth, back then. felt the softness of your skin on his, shivered as you ran over his deltoids, down to the rib - lower. each and every one of his nerves, raw, exposed, yearning for your touch.

there had been a beat, a split second of hesitation on your part. blood calls for blood, and his house has spilled so much of your blood. it would have been easy for you to take a hold of his blade and sink it in his exposed back.

he almost wanted you to do it.

(he had tilted his head, back then, a low growl leaving his lips at the mere thought of it. he could almost taste it, your sheer want.)

he, na-baron feyd-rautha harkonnen, lets his guard down, as if waiting for you to strike. why is that?

his steps do not lead him to a place of honor. too much blood has been spilled in this palace - a tribute to harkonnen nature, really. verses upon verses of hymns interwoven with gore and the acrid scent of enemies torn asunder by their blades. hellish epics to those who died bloody.

retribution is second nature - and he expects it from you.

then why is he so soft around you?

you’re still an atreides. your only worth to his uncle as of now resides in this precise fact - that you remain a witness to your house’s demise. a hidden blade, ready to be sunk in the emperor’s back.

his steps slow.

there’s something.

you, standing in the arena, raising your head, voice distorted and hoarse, thousands of your foremothers screaming in righteous fury.

you will not perceive me as i am.

he hadn’t, not until his fingers met the jagged ends of your scar.

a bene gesserit trick.

“are you lost, my lord na-baron?”

a silhouette in the shadows, shrouded in veils. he can only make out a smile - sweet, charming. not enough to conceal the sharpness beneath. witch.

he remains silent.

“what will you do with lady atreides?”

his resolve weakens. here, in the dead silence of the hall, he speaks:

“she will be mine.” a beat. the nervous twitch of his fingers, aching for a blade. “is it not what you intended, witch?”

he knows she is smiling, the bene gesserit facing him.

plans within plans within plans. atreides, harkonnen, corrino, dozens of great houses and they’re none the wiser.

“it was.”

none of it is real, it is all an illusion - your touch is wrong, your judgment unjust, faltering. dreams have meaning, this must be one. you can still taste the sands of arrakis, hear the screams of the billions of people starving, begging-

you rise in your bed - information flashes.

a bed. bandages wrapped tightly around your side. harsh, cold walls. antiseptic. blood - a medical wing.

feyd rautha.

you startle. he’s watching you, head slightly tilted to the side. assesses you still, gaze raking over the thin fabric of the covers.

his gaze is free to roam the expanse of your bare throat, to trail down to the dips of your collarbones, to the swell of your naked breasts. you shiver.

“is the sight to your liking, my lord na-baron?”

a chuckle like a rattlesnake. he steps closer, until he’s all but hovering above you, hand lightly pressing down on the mattress below.

“will you have me, my wife?”

you blink.

“we’re not-”

his fingers run up your wrist, press against the long scar marring your forearm.

“does it truly matter? you were made to be mine.” slowly, he sinks to his knees, glacier eyes smoldering in the penumbra. “and i was made to be yours.”

generations of prefect planning for this - you, last atreides left standing, and him, feyd rautha harkonnen, alone in the same room, bred for one another, for the kwisatz haderach to be conceived.

you raise your hand, cradling his cheek.

“have me, feyd-rautha.”

he presses a kiss to your palm, your inner wrist. he grins, black teeth like a gaping maw ready to sink into the marrow of you. your pulse jumps at that, rabbit-quick against the thin skin of your wrist. he feels it, with the way his thumb presses down on the delicate flesh.

his hand slithers under the covers, drags them down, until your side is completely exposed. he presses a kiss there, too, on the stitched up wound at your side. it’ll scar. a living, breathing reminder of him, of the kiss of his blade on your skin. the weapon is in his hand before you know it, slicing through bandages.

you feel his breath before you feel the press of his lips on your side. you gasp, fingers reaching for him, digging in his nape.

his tongue meets raw flesh, teeth worrying at the stitches until they snap. his nail rakes the cut, spreads its edges apart until liquid warmth blossoms at your side, trickling down your ribs.

you scream.

his lips slam against your own. warm. scorching. bruising. he presses himself to you like he wants to sink in the marrow of you and taste.

your hand raises to his chest, a meek press against his heart, fingers weaving with the velvet shadows of his jacket.

closer.

he growls. low, primal, needy. pushes his fingers in the gaping wound at your side - white hot pain surges through you. your mind grows blank. agony never felt so sweet.

your lips part in a cry - he swallows it down with greedy laughter.

you feel him smile against your lips, tongue reaching out for yours. heavy. you bring him closer. his hand twists, index curling up. you think he wants to reach your heart and never let go.

“feyd-”

he stills. nips at your lip one last time, backing away. a spider-web string of saliva links you both. he brings his fingers to his mouth, tasting you with a low hum. desire curls inside your lower belly.

“more,” you beg.

“where?”

you take his hand, bring it between your thighs, face heating up. he’s laughing, feyd rautha, the tip of his blood-soaked fingers brushing your cunt.

you gasp at that, at the way he spreads you apart, sinks into you with shameless abandon. you whine as you feel his fingers curl oh so sweetly.

he’s watching you. leaning closer and closer, until you can feel his breath on your inner thigh, until-

until his lips press against your heat, tongue lapping at you. you mewl, hand pressing him closer, nails sinking into his nape. you feel him growl against you, a low, needy sound as he tastes you, consumes you, tongue flicking against your clit.

something’s building in you, agonizingly warm, blistering fire spreading over your skin. a low vibration.

he’s purring, you realize, eyes closed in bliss as he laps at you, tongue delving into you, your essence running down his chin. you bite your lip until you taste blood.

it’s all too much.

the way his fingers have you keening his name like holy prayer. the way his tongue burns a path of desire over your slit, skilled little licks having you thrash in his grip, the low vibration of his purr having you squirming in his grasp. his free hand tightens around your thigh, pulls you closer.

his gaze flits to yours, glacier eyes melting under the weight of his desire.

you cum with a whine of his name, a plea for him to stop, to give you more, to please please please, keep touching you.

his eyes roll in the back of his skull at that. at the sight of you, lips parted in sinful euphoria, head thrown back under a tidal wave of pleasure. more. he needs more.

he grasps your hand, presses it against the length of his clothed cock, hard, throbbing, yearning for your touch.

“will you have me?”

“yes.”

as it was meant to be. him and you, bodies pressed so close nothing could come between the two of you, your nails digging in his back as he eases himself into you with a low hiss of pleasure.

him, pressing his lips in the crook of your neck, teeth nibbling at the tender flesh as his hips slowly rock into you.

“mine,” he growls, forehead against yours, picking up his pace until you’re gasping for breath. “mine.”

you close your fingers around his. press a kiss to his lips - you’re so full, so delectably full, your legs crossing over his lower back, driving him closer still.

his teeth break your skin, your lips painted over in blood. the sight has him moaning, reaching out between your legs to rub at your clit until you’re keening his name.

his release follows yours - he groans your name in the crook of your neck, hips stuttering madly against yours.

your breaths mingle - two pieces of the same puzzle slotting against one another. complete. you’re whole, pressed against the broad expanse of his chest, his cock settled snugly in your pussy.

you can almost feel it, the satisfied smile of the reverend mother. an heir has been secured, deep in the confines of your womb, growing, second after second. a boy - the kwisatz haderach.

that wretched eons long plan doesn’t matter. not now, not when you run your knuckles against the sharp edge of his jaw, marveling at him.

“mine,” you mutter.

taglist: @kpopnstarwars @jaiuneamesolitaiire

#feyd rautha x y/n #obticeo writes #feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #dune #dune x you #dune x reader #dune smut #feyd rautha smut #bald freak supremacy

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y2kazoo · 10 months

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HIIII!!! ive made a MASSIVE update to my fanclone roster since i last posted i have EIGHT of these things now so i refined some refs and updated their designs to make them more distinctive! i have a lot of information about all these up on my toyhouse so feel free to explore around there if you want :D

i wont go over the details w puff and tarrare since ive touched on their lore a bit already but i will indulge in some brief summaries for the rest! info below the readmore come take a look...

first we have louis - a clone of louis wain, a very beloved british illustrator who's well known for his depictions of cats. his clone son follows in his footsteps and is as equally as obsessed with cats as his clone father was - speaking of his clone father, his favorite cat, peter, was cloned along with him and now belongs to the new louis and is always hanging around him! the art club absolutely LOVES him. he's a total sweetheart and he constantly has a line of cats following him wherever he goes. he also runs a cat-sitting service out of his house and prefers to spend down time at school feeding the local stray cats instead of studying

second is charles domery but he prefers to go by his nickname domerz! he's a clone of a polish naval soldier from the 1700's who had absurd eating habits like those of tarrare. he was made infamous for an incident where he tried to eat a crewmate's dismembered leg and only stopped because it was dragged to sea by another crewmate. so it's only natural that his clone son is best friends forever with tarrare, with them having bonded over their afflictions when they were kids. they hang out together all the time - anyways! domerz himself is a bit of a jock but in a punkish bully way, he likes to pick fights with people just for the thrill of it and has a mean streak. he's quelled his weird eating habits by smoking tobacco, and only uses his capability to eat anything as a threat when people provoke him. his favorite threat is, of course, threatening to eat people's legs. he has done this multiple times before to other students if you were curious. also he has a big interest in boats.

bela is, go figure, a clone of bela lugosi, the actor made famous for playing dracula. the thing is, while his clone father was just playing a part, due to his clone father's legacy, his clone son believes HIMSELF to be a REAL, ACTUAL VAMPIRE. of course he is NOT a vampire, he's just some kid, but that doesn't matter too much to him. to him he's a vampire and that's that. he's a very bombastic theater kid AND has a reputation for being a prankster; he particularly loves to scare the other students and hide in their lockers and jump out and scare them. his theater group loves him, but it's easy for the other students to find him kind of grating. he holds a giant party at his parent's house every halloween.

bosch issssss interesting! he's a clone of hieronymous bosch, a painter from the 1500's who's best known works include the garden of earthly delights and his many pieces depicting nightmarish hellscapes. his clone son is a lot more stuck up than he probably was, considering himself to be 'above' the rest of his student body, only ever sticking with the other weird kids of the school. he's fairly pessimistic and edgy and he always has something sarcastic to say. his biggest passion, aside from painting, is the long list of weird, fantastical creatures that he depicts in his works, with each of them having a meaning to him and it's own set lore. he tends not to get along with the other artists due to his standoffish personality but if someone asks him about the significance of a random critter in the corner of one of his paintings, he'll talk to them about it for hours.

mary is a clone of mary shelley, the author of frankenstein! she's a very mopey tradgoth girl if you couldnt tell by all the dramatic makeup. she hates 'the preps' with a passion and would rather be caught dead than be lumped in with them. she's one of the smartest students in her grade and makes a lot of political jokes that fly right over people's heads. her favorite place to hang out is the graveyard, specifically the graveyard at night during a full moon. when she's not there, she's at the morgue contemplating the effects of decay on the human body. she tends to stick mostly to the goth group of kids, but she hangs out with the more ostracized students too, as it's just in her heart to stand up for misunderstood people.

lastly we have db - now i posted db to my main account and a lot of people found him absolutely hilarious SO im reposting him here too! sure why not. db is a clone of db cooper, a mysterious man who vanished after hijacking a plane and obtaining a lot of ransom money. db is a notorious hacker in the school and he's been kicked out of the stem club on several occasions for installing ransomware on all the school computers. his sunglasses are a core staple of his wardrobe as he believes if he always wears them, then no one will know his identity and he'll be this mysterious figure lurking around the school - even though everyone knows his name and he's just a big dork. he tends to pick on people who have a higher standing in the school and then disappearing before they can dish anything out to him. he's also very afraid of heights, ironic because he really likes planes.

#art #oc #clone high #character design #clone high oc #fanclones

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jobean12-blog · 1 year

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The Shadow of Love

Pairing: Bucky Barnes x reader (Fairytale/Vampire AU, soft!dark)

Word Count: 6,017

Summary: James has spent many of his long years in despair...until he finds you.

Author’s Note: This is for @boxofbonesfic “Once Upon a Time” celebration and 10K milestone! Congratulations lovely and thank you for hosting! 💕This is also for Lilo and Aqua’s “Myths and Legends” writing challenge @sparkledfirecracker @tumblin-theworldaway thank you both for hosting!💕 The fairytale that inspired this is Beauty and the Beast. I also have references to the book Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. I used a lot of Vampire myth and legend, including some form of magic-charming- to keep the reader under control. James and his companions are definitely from a different era of time than the reader and they come off kind of fancy for that reason.

Warnings: mentions of b-loo-d, mind c-ontrol and magic charming, k-id-napping, built up tension, moments of f-ea-r, s-ucking b-loo-d, b-iting, but there is some softness laced in between all of it (18+ONLY)-if I miss any please let me know :)

The banner above is mine. It’s terrible because I’m terrible at banners. The edit on the left was made by my dear friend Nix, which is the opposite of terrible, it’s amazing 💕This photo below is all Seb, I take no credit for his gorgeousness.

The last rays of a dying sun filter through the ornate stained-glass windows of the estate and cast shimmers of fading color upon the dusty stone floor. The only other light is from a pair of blue eyes, so startling, they rival the beauty of the ancient artwork adorning the walls.

“You are sulking again,” a voice calls from the back of the room.

It receives no answer and there is no sound of footsteps as the other approaches, materializing next to the set of blue eyes.

“Are you going to spend all of eternity in this constant state of shadow?” the new voice asks.

James turns to his companion, the years of their friendship spread out over centuries, and asks, “isn’t that the very nature of our existence?”

Steven only stares ahead in answer before placing a placating hand on James’ shoulder. “You have the power to take what you want. You must make a choice. Stop lingering in this…purgatory.”

James only nods before his legs begin to vaporize and tendrils of dark mist crawl up his long body. His eyes are the last thing Steven sees, the blue piercing the black cloud before James is gone.

Steven drops his head then turns on his heel, walking briskly from the large room.

The bar is busier than usual tonight, full of tourists regaling in their visit and drunk locals cheering them on. You run from table to table, dodging sloshing pints and groping hands. When you finally find yourself back behind the bar you let out a long exhale and lean on the counter, smiling when your friend the bartender dashes past you for more glasses.

“Really hopping tonight,” Matt yells with a smile.

You laugh with an exaggerated wipe of your brow then grab your glass of cool water for a nice long drink. You take no notice of the pair of stunning blue eyes that follow your every move, their owner cloaked in shadow and hidden from the sight of most.

In the next hours that pass many of the patrons become too drunk to carry on a conversation and the travelers move on, so the bar is now quiet and you have time for your favorite activity. You reach under the bar top and retrieve your book, a smile gracing your features as you sit and open to your bookmark.

“Reading again?” Matt asks as he grabs himself a drink of water.

“Always,” you answer without looking up.

He’s silent for several moments until he leans down to whisper along your ear, “that man over there…he hasn’t taken his eyes off you all night. Do you know him?”

You keep your head down as if you are still reading but slowly lift your eyes and search the room. At first you see nothing and your brow furrows in confusion.

“Matt, I don’t see…” you start to whisper, stopping short when your breath catches in your throat at the sight of the man he speaks of.

It’s as if the world around you fades away and you’re consumed by the presence of this stranger. Your breathing slows and at first all you can hear is the rush of blood in your ears, until his voices penetrates the veil, smooth like silk even as you stare at lips unmoving. It frightens you but you can’t seem to break away and it feels as though you’re being pulled toward him by an invisible string.

“Hey!” you suddenly hear your body shaking under the force of Matt’s hands.

You gasp loudly and grab hold of Matt’s arm, turning to him with wide and panicked eyes.

“You ok?” Matt asks, much more softly now, his features etched with concern.

“I…,” you start and swing your head back in the direction of the stranger but he seems to have disappeared into thin air. “I think so.”

Matt follows your line of sight and whispers, his shock evident, “he’s gone.”

You swallow hard and cling to Matt with trembling hands. “I swear it was like I was under a spell,” you say quietly.

“It looked like you were in a trance,” Matt explains before handing you more water.

“Have you seen him before?” Matt asks.

You don’t answer right away, a chill running down your spine as your mind races.

“I don’t know…it all felt eerily familiar but I never even got a look at him.”

“Did you frighten her again?” Steven grins when James pushes through the large double doors of the estate with a loud bang.

James shoots him a cold glare and Steven’s grin fades.

“She is always with that young man…Matt” James states, his distaste obvious in the way he says the name. “Who is he? Why does she stay with him?”

Steven waits before answering, clearly formulating a careful response.

“I have seen him,” Steven answers. “You have mentioned they work together…perhaps they are just friends.”

“She isn’t in love with him,” James states after a prolonged silence. “But he is in love with her.”

Steven takes a step toward James, resting both of his hands on James’ broad shoulders.

“Do not make any thoughtless actions James,” Steven warns. “You don’t want to lose her before you even have her.”

“You think she would be upset if I…disposed of him?”

James’ question makes Steven raise his brows with a wry smile.

“Fine…I won’t kill him,” James sighs. “But I will not allow him to stand in the way of what’s mine.”

The next few nights of work are uneventful and slow and by the time the weekend rolls around you’ve almost finished your book.

You feel his presence before you see him, a warm rush of awareness overwhelming your senses. You lift your gaze from the page and meet his incredible blue eyes. He’s handsome in a way that’s arresting and your heart starts to beat faster.

“Hello doll,” the man greets.

You stare at him, your mouth curving into a cautious smile.

He smiles back, his plush red lips spreading wide over white teeth.

“Have we met before?” you muse as you openly study him.

“I don’t believe so,” he answers. “I would never forget such a beautiful creature.”

Your eyes linger on his handsome features, his eyes standing out above all else, before you lower your lashes at his compliment.

“Can I get you a drink?” you ask, as you close your book and hide it back under the bar.

“Please,” he says. “Red wine.”

You nod and go about pouring him some, setting the glass down carefully and noting how his long and thick fingers curl seductively around the stem.

“What book has you so captivated?” he asks as he swirls the liquid around the glass.

“Frankenstein,” you answer. “Have you read it?”

“I have.”

You instantly brighten at his answer and hold out your hand to introduce yourself. He takes it, filled with a sudden delirious hope as he dips his head to brush his cool lips across your knuckles.

Goosebumps erupt across your skin at the feel of his lips but thankfully you recover by the time he lifts his eyes back to yours.

“A pleasure doll. I’m James. James Barnes.”

Your eyes widen slightly at the recognition of his name.

“James,” you repeat in a soft murmur and he tenses at how keenly he wants to hear his name on your perfect lips again and again.

“So I do know you…sort of.”

You’d heard stories of the famous family but you always assumed they were nothing more than that…stories.

“You may have heard my name before, yes,” he acknowledges, “but I assure you that whatever you’ve heard isn’t quite the truth.

“Guess I’ll just have to find out for myself,” you reply.

James steels himself, hiding his pleasure at your words with a swift change of topic.

“How do you like the book so far?” he asks.

“I love it! It’s hauntingly beautiful and sad. I’m almost finished.”

With an agreeable nod he launches into a perfectly articulated and clever review of the book, much to your delight and you find yourself completely engrossed with his every word.

“You must come and see my library,” James tells you. “I have an extensive collection.”

You sigh at the thought, resting your elbows on the bar and leaning in close to him.

“I’d love that more than anything. I’ve always dreamed of having my very own library.”

His eyes flash, silver against his pale skin, and he brushes his fingers down your arm.

“You are most welcome any time doll. I think you would find my home has many things you would enjoy.”

Matt loudly calls your name, his tone sharp, and it startles you.

“Need some help down here,” he repeats, eyeing you suspiciously.

You pull yourself away from James, feeling slightly lightheaded but managing a smile.

“I apologize but I need to go help…”

“Of course doll,” James says smoothly, gritting his teeth with anger at the interruption.

“Perhaps I may request your presence at the ball I’m hosting next week. I can show you my library.”

You can’t hide your surprise at his invitation, your eyes filled with nervous anticipation.

“If you’d rather have a more private introduction I will understand,” he quickly adds.

“No, no,” you assure him once you recover. “But a ball…isn’t that old fashioned?”

You make sure to smile after you tell him this.

“Indeed it is!” he agrees with a smile. “You’ll find I can be very old fashioned…perhaps I should have used the term party.”

“There is much to do!” James bellows as Steven follows behind. “Everything needs to be cleaned and prepared. Nothing can be left undone!”

Steven rushes off to alert the others and begin the preparations while James stalks off to the library to make sure his most befitting gift is in order.

“Why wasn’t I invited?” Matt asks as he follows you around your small bedroom. “You need someone to come with you to keep you safe! We hardly know this guy.”

You turn to him with a smirk.

“Well, anyone who enjoys books as much as I do can’t be all bad!” you exclaim as you look him over. “Now go find something to wear.”

When you arrive at James’ estate you tilt your head back to follow the grand height of the edifice. It looms darkly against the star filled sky, backlit by the shine of the moon.

“Wow, it’s bigger than I imagined,” you whisper to Matt.

“This place is insane! It looks like some creepy house from one of your books,” he jokes.

You elbow him before smoothing your hands down your dress and using the knocker to alert your presence.

The door swiftly opens to reveal a tall blonde with a sweet smile.

“Welcome,” he states, keeping his eyes on you. “James is expecting you.”

He finally moves his eyes to Matt and his lips turn down into a slight frown.

“You’ve brought a guest,” Steven states dryly.

You fidget with your hands and drop your head.

“I didn’t wan to come alone…” you start to say quietly.

“Do not fret darling,” Steven says kindly. “You were simply being smart. Please, come in.”

He reaches for your hand and you take his, stepping inside with Matt right behind you.

As Steven ushers you down the long hallway you take the opportunity to look around, noting the elaborately decorated walls, with bold colors but delicate carvings and when you pass a set of large floor to ceiling windows you notice a splash of vibrant color outside.

“Oh!” you exclaim, stopping to look. “You have a garden?”

Steven steps closer to you, admiring the blooms.

“We do,” he says proudly. “It is James’ second most prized possession…his library being the first.”

A bright smile graces your features at the mention of the library.

“And all these flowers bloom at night?” you ask, your forehead furrowed now in thought. “How strange.”

Steven clears his throat. “Why yes! Excellent observation my sweet. James prefers the beauty and fragrance of things…nocturnal.”

“Now come, we don’t want to be late.”

With that, Steven urges you down the hallway toward large wooden double doors. He pushes them open with ease and sweeps out his arm with a bow.

You give him an elegant nod of your head and enter. The domed ceiling is covered with magnificent frescoes and the candlelit wall sconces cast various hunting battles, landscape scenes, and jousts in an eerie glow.

“Wow,” you whisper, still looking up when you feel that familiar shiver creep down your spine.

That’s when you turn and see him. He approaches slowly, his tall and powerful body moving smoothly across the floor. He’s dressed formally and when he reaches you he bows with a flourish.

You’re momentarily stunned, the opulence of it all something you are not used to.

James holds out an inviting hand just as you hear the first note from an organ hidden above you, the melodic sound reverberating in the open space.

You reach for him, placing your fingers in his palm and smiling softly.

“If I see but one smile on your lips when we meet, occasioned by this or any other exertion of mine, I shall need no other happiness,” he murmurs, quoting a line from Frankenstein.

“Oh that’s one of my favorites from the story!” you gush.

In a whirl you are quickly in his arms, one of his hands holding yours and the other placed at your lower back.

“I’m so delighted you came,” he says tenderly as his eyes wander over your face then sweep down your body. “You are a vision. The stars will be jealous of you tonight.”

If the use of one of your favorite lines didn’t already work his most recent words make you swoon and you clutch his hand more tightly, nibbling your bottom lip.

“James…” you begin but he spins you away before you can say more and when you’re back in his arms his face is only inches from yours and you’re at a loss for any other words.

He keeps you close and you can feel every inch of his hard body pressed to yours.

The sound of voices draws your attention away and you suddenly remember Matt.

“Oh!” you exclaim, “what about Matt?”

James smiles and although the gesture is warm something dark flickers in his eyes.

“Your friend seems to be doing just fine doll,” James tells you as he spins you both around so you can see.

Matt is currently dancing with a beautiful red head, her pale face lit up in a smile as they twirl around the room.

“He certainly looks fine,” you finally say with a giggle.

“I assure you my friends are very engaging. They were overjoyed to know I was having company. Natasha especially. She loves to dance and it’s been quite some time since I’ve entertained.”

“Your home is beautiful,” you say. “Do you live here alone?”

“No. Not alone,” he says. “Steven is my companion…we have been through much together and our friendship runs deep.”

“I met him when we got here and he showed me a glimpse of your impressive garden.”

James smiles, doing nothing to hide the haughty lift of his chin, and says, “ah yes! You’ve seen my flowers. I do enjoy tending to my nightly blooms.”

“I noticed many of them were open even in the nighttime,” you state pleasantly, not wanting to come off as rude.

“Yes all flowers of the darkness. The moonflowers are my personal favorite.”

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen one of those before,” you say.

“Well I’ll be sure to give you the grand tour of the garden after you see the library,” he beams.

As you continue to dance and talk you lose track of time, not even noticing that Matt has long since disappeared and you and James are the only two left in the large room.

“You’re a wonderful dancer James.”

“I’ve had many years of practice,” he explains. “And it helps having such an exquisite partner.”

You glow under his praise and find yourself craving more from him. You press yourself closer and release his hand, languidly sliding it along his shoulder to rest just below the base of his neck.

Joyously he returns your embrace, holding you affectionately as he continues to float you around the room. As the music slows so do his steps and as if sensing the change, you cling to him, your fingers sliding into the hair at the back of his neck.

His passion mixes with the innate thirst he has kept hidden and the scent of your skin, the feel of your body and the taste of you is overwhelming. He yields, and with a groan, dips his head to kiss your throat, his fangs emerging quickly and purposefully.

His kiss is gentle, not that of a predator but of a lover, and you gasp at first but don’t pull away. An ecstasy like you’ve never known takes over and any thought of pain ebbs away with every pulse of your blood.

“James!” comes a commanding voice that goes unheard by you. “Release her!”

You’re suddenly thrust from James’ arms, weak and dizzy. A soothing voice enters your head and your eyelids grow heavy, the room around you slowly fading into blackness.

James paces at the foot of his large bed, the four wooden posts holding up the deep velvet draping’s that partially shield you from his eyes.

“The thirst is commanding,” Steven states placidly. “But you must be more careful!”

James turns to his lifelong friend and stares, his lips parting as his fangs grow and sharpen.

“Yes, it does,” James answers, his voice low and menacing. “I need to feed.”

Steven nods with a quick glance at your prone form on the bed. “She will be safe here and she will sleep through tomorrow’s sun. Come. Let us hunt.”

The two men take long strides toward the door and with one last longing glance behind him, your soft features illuminated by a sliver of the moon’s pale light that escapes through the tapestries, James’ body shifts into the shape of a sleek black wolf and he races away.

At the smell of food you gently shift along the silken sheets, stretching out like a cat before you blink your eyes open. Darkness surrounds you and the smell of something sweet but weathered permeates the scent of the well-cooked meal.

You sit up slowly, clutching the sheets to your chest and noting that you are no longer wearing your dress from last night, only a thin chemise.

Last night?

Your mind begins to race and your voice catches in your throat as your eyes focus on the room.

“Where am I?” you squeak out, plastering yourself to the leather headboard.

“You’re safe doll.”

At the sound of James’ soothing voice you visibly relax. Something about his presence makes you feel calmer. You don’t quite understand it but he puts your mind and body at ease.

“What happened?” you ask. “Where is Matt?”

“You indulged a bit too much after dancing,” he explains as he moves closer, now standing beside the bed. “You were unfit to get home so I let you sleep here. As for Matt, he is safe at home.”

Again, for reasons unknown to you, you trust his word.

“Is this your bed?” you ask as you fingers sweep over the plush fabric.

You look up at him with the unspoken question in your eyes.

“Yes,” he whispers. “But I slept elsewhere. I promise you.”

More tension leaves your shoulders and you look past him to the steaming food on the small table.

“Hungry?” he asks with a mischievous grin.

“Starving!” you exclaim as you start to get up.

When you stand your legs are wobbly and you teeter at the edge of the bed.

James quickly wraps you in his embrace and holds you against his chest.

“Slow,” he instructs. “You have slept long and haven’t eaten. Sit. I will bring it to you.”

He gently sits you back down and goes to get the tray of food, setting it down beside you on the bed. He pulls up a chair and sits beside you, stabbing a piece of the food with the fork and bringing it to your lips.

Your eyes stay locked on his as your mouth opens and you take a bite. The low moan that leaves the back of your throat is unexpected but you are hungrier than you thought and the food is delicious.

His eyes flash and he grips the fork tighter, his already white skin pulled tight against his knuckles.

“Good, isn’t it?” he asks, plucking another bite from the plate.

“Yes,” you whisper, eagerly taking the second piece.

“Eat all you want doll. You’ll need your energy for all I have to show you today.”

He entertains you with stories of how he’s collected his books and how he came to love gardening. You brighten at his words and dutifully eat all the food on the plate.

When you’ve had your fill he stands and begins to collect the tray. You sit back with a contented sigh, fiddling with your necklace. Your fingers graze something on your neck and a rush of emotion floods through you.

“James,” you say, your voice wavering.

He’s instantly at your side, his face etched with worry.

“I…I have…” you stammer, fighting the growing warning in your head.

James delicately rests his palm over your cheek, brushing his thumb across your lips.

“Everything is fine doll. I have everything you need here. Just say the words and it will be yours.”

Your eyes refocus and settle on his as a sense of peacefulness washes over you once again.

“Thank you.”

He smiles, warm and inviting, and your eyes drop to his lips. You’re drawn to him in every way, his charm ever present in the forefront of your mind and you grab his wrist, leaning in closer.

A loud knock on the door startles you from your trance and you pull away, quickly covering yourself with the blanket.

James’ eyes narrow and he let’s out a low rumble.

“Come in,” he says dangerously.

Steven enters and looks between the two of you, his eyes widening slightly at the look on James’ face.

“Sorry to disturb you,” he regrets. “But you are needed.”

He keeps his eyes on James and waits.

“I won’t be long,” James assures you, pressing his lips to the corner of your mouth. “You’ll find everything you need in the chest at the foot of the bed. Feel free to wander the house.”

He stands abruptly and moves toward Steven, brushing past him with the soft closing of the door.

“This better be worth my time,” James seethes.

Once the two men are far enough away from the bedroom Steven grabs James’ arm and swiftly turns him so they are face to face.

“Do you have her under your charm?” Steven asks, his teeth gritted.

James turns away, walking toward the windows to look out over the garden, the bright blooms like stars scattered across the darkness.

“She will try to run,” he states coldly. “I will not have it.”

“James,” Steven sighs as he comes to stand beside his friend. “You do not give yourself enough credit. How do you know she will not grow to love you?”

James is silent for a long time, his eyes still staring out at the darkness.

When he finally speaks his voice is smaller, carrying none of it’s usual authority and fierceness.

“One could no sooner love a monster.”

“Give her time,” Steven answers quietly.

James makes no further comment and simply asks, “what could be so important that you would pull me from my love?”

“The young man…Matt, came to the estate. He is demanding to know why she is still here in your care and when she is coming home.”

James is quiet for a long time after Steven’s explanation and finally he squares his shoulders and sets his jaw firmly in line.

“Deal with it and make sure I am not disturbed again unless absolutely necessary.”

Before Steven can give any sign of acknowledgement James whisps away into a bat and speeds down the hall toward the library.

You dress in the clothes that he left you, running your fingertips over the soft fabric of the simple dress and loving how it fits you perfectly. The floor beneath your feet is chilly and you silently wish for something warm to cover them. Just as you open the door of the bedroom you notice a pair of slippers resting at the side and you wonder if the house has heard your silent request and answered.

Now warm and comfortable you make your way down the long hallway, passing the room from last night where you danced with James. You continue further down, seeing many smaller adjacent rooms that hold cozy sitting areas and desks.

When you reach the end of the hall, moonlight gathers on the stone floor from one of the large windows, and a large oaken door sits slightly ajar.

You take a deep breath and gently push it open the rest of the way.

A large fire burns comfortably in the hearth, its ruddy glow infusing the room with heat and light. The walls are lined from floor to ceiling with richly carved wooden bookshelves, every available space filled with books.

The scent of well-oiled leather and old parchment invades your senses and you throw your hands up and twirl with barely subdued awe.

“I was hoping I would be back in time to see your reaction,” James purrs from the doorway.

You spin around to find him leaning against the tall wooden doorframe, his perfect lips carved into a soft smile.

“Oh James!” you exclaim. “It’s just….”

You squeal in happiness, running to one of the shelves and plucking a book off, your fingers moving reverently across the worn binding before you carefully open it and lift it to your nose.

Your inhalation is loud and full and when you lift your eyes to James his own are crinkled with joy.

“Is it everything you hoped for?” he inquires as he moves toward you.

“It’s even better,” you whisper, clutching the book to your chest.

When he reaches you he presses his long fingers under your chin, caressing your jaw with his thumb.

“I cannot express the happiness this brings me. You may read anything you like. They are yours.”

Your mouth falls open at his offer and your eyes widen, brightening with tears.

“But…why? You just met me. Isn’t there someone else…?”

“There is no one else,” he says sharply, not meaning to speak so and he quickly smiles and tucks you under his arm.

“There is no one else who would enjoy them as much as you,” he says, this time his voice soft and pleasant.

“What about you?”

Your question catches him off guard and he studies you silently before gathering you in his arms and pressing a soft kiss to your forehead.

“Yes. I will enjoy them too of course.”

He’s reluctant to let you go but he can feel your body brimming with excitement.

“Go, enjoy! I will come find you shortly for dinner.”

He turns to leave but you grab his hand and give it a small tug, smiling under your lashes when he gives you a curious look. You press your palm to one of his cheeks and softly kiss the other, your lips lingering for a moment before you pull away.

“Thank you,” you whisper and with a wide smile you dash off to the shelves.

James wanders back down the hall, his fingers pressed to the same spot your lips had touched and for the first time he weighs the reality of Steven’s words.

Could you really love him? Would you stay because you wanted to?

When Steven comes to collect you for dinner you are curled up in one of the scarlet velvet cushioned chairs, a large book in your lap and a wistful expression on your face.

“My dear,” Steven says softly. “Dinner is ready and you must be hungry.”

You look up with a start but smile when you see him.

“Yes, I am!” you say with a laugh. “What time is it?”

“It is well past dinner time but your schedule is off after your night of partying.”

At that last word Steven gives you a playful grin and you match it but as you stand and go to him it begins to fall.

“I don’t even remember having a drink! All I remember is dancing with James and then I woke up in his bed.”

Your steps slow and you look at Steven, your eyes turning round with fear.

“Don’t worry,” he says carefully, moving forward tentatively to take your hand. “Everything is fine and you are safe.”

His words are like a warm caress and you feel the tension seep from your body.

“What have you been reading?” he asks as he urges you out the door of the library.

With your fearful thoughts a distant memory you divulge Steven in every little detail of the book you’ve read so far…a first edition copy of ‘Wuthering Heights.’

“I still can’t believe I have it in my hands,” you say with amazement as you look down at the book. “Where did he get this?”

“You can ask him yourself,” Steven smiles as he holds the door of the dining room open.

James greets you by taking your free hand and leading you toward the chair next to his, pulling it out so you may sit.

Steven clears his throat to get James’ attention, a silent exchange passing between them. James nods and proceeds to sit.

“So, what do you think so far?” James asks as his eyes drop to the book.

“I love it but how did you get a first edition copy?”

Your excitedness eases some of the worry that Steven’s earlier warning provoked and he relaxes, eagerly listening to your chatter about the book.

“Won’t you have something to eat?” you ask when you scrape your plate clean with your last bite.

James glances down at his still full plate and smiles.

“Well, I was so enraptured with you, I forgot to eat,” he says with a wink. “But come, we will go to the garden before we have some dessert.”

He stands and reaches for your hand, taking it and looping your arm with his. You press into his side and walk with him down the long hallway toward the garden.

The darkness of the night isn’t oppressive, the leaf-filtered moonlight turning the garden into a moving tapestry of shadows and wisps, and all around are the soft sounds of nighttime life.

James breathes in deeply, the subtle scent of your warm blood taking precedent above all the other fragrances from the flowers. A warm breeze travels among the leaves and blooms yet your body trembles.

“Are you cold?” James asks.

“It isn’t cold out but for some reason I feel a chill.”

At your answer he shrugs off his jacket and drapes it over your shoulders. You smile in thanks and pull it closer to your body, discreetly sniffing the collar.

His smell makes you sigh and you snuggle closer to the warm fabric.

“It must be a lot of work to care for all these flowers,” you muse as you meander down the stone pathways.

“It takes nurturing and patience,” he says quietly as his eyes wander across the flowers. “Time is something I have a lot of.”

He steps closer to the moonflower plant and gently picks a blossom, twirling it between his long fingers.

“This, doll, is a moonflower.”

He holds it just under your nose, the soft petals tickling your skin as you inhale.

“It smells almost citrusy,” you remark. “They are beautiful.”

He takes the flower and tucks it under the thin strap of your dress, his fingertips tracing the outline of your collarbone before ghosting along your throat.

“Did you know they are deadly if ingested?”

Your eyebrows raise and you shake your head, leaning into his touch. “The seeds are highly toxic but thankfully once you educate yourself they are both very safe and very easy to cultivate.”

“Do they stay open in the daytime?” you ask, your voice breathless.

“They do not. They are true nighttime blooms. Only in the darkness do they come alive.”

His fingers move higher and curl around the back of your neck. Your scent surrounds him, drowning out all his other sharpened senses.

“James,” your voice trembles.

“Do you want to know another of my favorite quotes from your beloved Frankenstein story?” he whispers, his breath cool against your skin.

His fangs begin to lengthen and hunger tugs at every fiber of his unnatural existence.

“What is it?” you ask, your body now completely pliant against his.

His nose brushes along the length of your neck and he gently nips at your earlobe, pressing his thumb under your chin to tilt your head back and expose more of your throat.

“If I cannot inspire love, I will cause fear,” he murmurs, pressing his lips just below your ear.

You tremble but this time it’s not from the cold and when your eyes meet his commanding gaze you smile softly and press closer to him.

“But I am not afraid,” you whisper.

He takes your face in his hands and smooths the pad of his thumb across your lips, his tongue darting out to wet his own, their color red with the anticipation of the taste of you. His fingers slide down and graze your pulse point, the rhythmic throbbing sending a rush of heat through his body.

The clouds move slowly across the sky, exposing the full silver light of the moon and it floods the garden, bathing you both in an ethereal glow.

“I will no longer suffer this eternity alone. You will be mine forever.”

His lips press to yours, nipping and licking your warm flesh before he parts your tongue and swallows your gasps of pleasure. A fire erupts across your skin and your fingernails dig into his back, his jacket falling to the ground in a heap of dark fabric.

As his hands explore your bare skin he can barely contain his awe, the feeling of you is better than anything he could have imagined in his long life.

The flower that is secured in your dress floats to the floor as his fingers slip under the thin straps and slowly push them off your shoulders. His lips never leave yours when his hands travel lower, caressing every inch of you that he can.

“James, please,” you beg, fumbling with the buttons of his shirt, desperate to feel more of him.

He pulls away, your lips still chasing his, and looks into your eyes.

Slowly he loosens his hold over you and some of the light returns to your eyes like a spark ignited. You reach for him again; this time of your own accord and he growls in victory.

With languid movements he brings your lips to his once again, softly kissing them before he moves down your neck, lightly scraping your skin with his elongated fangs.

You gasp his name, a whispered plea, and he can no longer deny the thirst that burns inside him like a fever and without warning he embeds his fangs in your soft flesh.

For that one brief moment all desire leaves your body and is replaced with an innate terror at the realization of what’s happening. With a weak push on his chest you try to get away but it’s too late and before the cry of anguish can leave your parted lips you sink into an inky blackness, the feeling of ecstasy creeping over you like a veil, shrouding all else in shadow.

@book-dragon-13 @dreamlessinparis @lookiamtrying @loki-laufeyson-1054 @goldylions @seitmai @randomfandompenguin @hiddles-rose @flordeamatista

#bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x female reader #vampire!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes fanfiction #soft!dark bucky barnes #bucky barnes imagine #vampire au #bucky barnes au #fairytale au #sebastian stan x reader #mythsandlegendswithliloandaqua #once upon a time challenge

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courtingchaos · 8 months

Text

Speeding

Gator Tillman x Fem Reader

Warnings: Cheating, sex, mean-ish reader

A/N: starting off, this isn’t my Gator from Shared Inflicted Pain. This is me trying to Frankenstein Fargo Gator together, though I’m probably still off 😂 anyways this is a little rough, a little sloppy, but it’s a prompt! It’s okay! Have fun!

Having to fuck your way out of a speeding ticket or a possession charge or something with gator (from that prompt ask from last week)

Red and blue lights flash off the tree line and the spotlight blinds you where it reflects in your rear view. You’ve been sitting here on the shoulder, both wrists draped over the steering wheel with your ID and insurance in hand. The muggy heat of the night creeps in from your rolled down windows, just incase whoever is pulling you over decides to ride your ass about your tint too.

The cruisers door closes and you can hear footsteps approaching your driver side. He comes into view slowly, his hand resting on his gun, thumb tapping the nylon of the holster. You don’t even need to look all the way up or make out his badge, the tilt of his hips telling you exactly who it is.

“I caught you doing 85 in a 40.” He bends down to look into your car, a few strands of his slick hair falling with his head tilt. “That sounds like you were tryin’ to get caught.”

The flat look he levels at you makes you smile big. “Well if it isn’t Sheriff Tillman! Didn’t know you were patrolling this particular stretch tonight.”

“Where you going in such a rush?” He ignores your comment and swings his ticket pad around so you can see it.

“Oh like you give a shit.” You snort and start to relax, dropping your hands into your lap. “Do we really need to do this little song and dance?”

“I should be arresting you.”

“Come on, you really need these?” You barely flash your drivers license at him and he’s reaching in to snatch them out of your hands. “Hey!”

“45 over!”

“Are you suddenly Mayberry’s finest? Seriously you’ve never actually written me a ticket.” Gator just shakes his head and laughs, wedging his penlight between his lips to shine on his notepad. “What, daddy on your ass about quotas or something?” You see his eyebrows knit and you can hear the huff he pushes out from his nose. “Oh that’s what it is, Roy’s disappointed.” You lean on your windowsill and prop you chin on your forearm, other hand freely dangling down your door. “Still not his favorite deputy?” A big frown pulls at your lips and you slowly reach out to hook a finger in his belt.

He’s annoyed. No longer writing your ticket but staring through the pad of paper as you tug on a pouch. “You’re my favorite deputy, though.”

“Don’t be a bitch.” He mumbles around his flashlight and starts writing again quickly. Your head shoots up and you pull yourself up and out of your window. “I’m not being a bitch!” You gasp, the hurt in your voice true. He was your favorite deputy and not just because he let you flirt your way out of umpteen tickets. “I’m serious!”

“Get back in the car.” He drops the light into his open palm and rips your ticket off to shove in your face. “Make sure you actually pay this on time, I won’t be the one to come get you otherwise.”

You snatch the ticket and your license and he immediately turns on his heel to walk back to his cruiser. “Gator!” You yell out the window and he doesn’t turn but you can see his shoulders all hunched up around his ears. There’s a minute where you sit in your car and contemplate speeding off, gravel kicking up into his headlights and making him chase you but you know it’ll just end in cuffs and not in a fun way. You listen to see if he’ll start his engine right away and when he doesn’t you roll your windows up and turn off your headlights, pushing your door open with a kick. That spotlight is still on your car so you can’t see into his windshield but you keep walking, shoving the ticket into your pocket.

“Get back in your fuckin’ car!” He yells out of his window. You ignore him and when you stop next to him he pretends like he can’t see you staring directly into his SUV.

“What are you upset about, huh?”

He pointedly ignores you now, instead looking over to his laptop dimly lighting up the front seat. You lean into the driver side, face close enough to his to smell his aftershave.

“I’m not upset, I need you to get in your car.” His jaw flexes when he clenches it and you laugh.

“Yes you are! I thought this was our little game? I speed around the county roads and you pretend to get all mad about it and be a ‘real sheriff’.” Your air quotes get his attention but the look he levels you with is dead weight. “You threaten me with a ticket, I bat my lashes, we get in the back of the cruiser.” You jerk your head towards his backseat with a slick grin. “What changed?”

That muscle still ticks along his jaw, especially when you drag a fingertip down it and flick up off the tip of his chin. “You got a girl now or something? Anyone I know?”

“No.”

“Oh then she doesn’t need to know I guess.”

He pushes your hand away from his face but keeps his eyes trained on you.

“I can keep secret.” You start to inch your way to the back door, waiting for him to unlock it. When you’re far enough back you watch him in the side mirror sigh and pinch the bridge of his nose. A click from inside and you’ve got the door open, pulling yourself up and into the back, fingers weaving into the small holes of the partition. He gets out before you can open your mouth again, undoing his belt and tossing it in the front seat. He climbs into the back and shuts the door behind him, sliding into the middle of the bench seat. You don’t wait for him before you crowd him, swinging your knee over to straddle his lap.

You’re immediately working at his buttons while his hands find your hips. The small gold cross glints in the dark as you work your way down to pull the hem out his pants and he watches your fingers move smoothly to unbuttoning his pants.

His front pocket vibrates and you laugh. “Excited?”

“Don’t flatter yourself.” He digs his phone out and ignores the call before you can see who it is. You can’t even get his belt undone before it goes off again a moment later. He tries to toss it off the seat but you snatch it before it leaves his hand. The contact says Jess and her long hair gleams chestnut in the setting sun behind her, gold chain cross prominent around her neck, an obvious selfie sent with the intent of a contact photo.

“Is this her?” You flash the screen at him. His eyes flick to the phone still vibrating in your hand. “You might want to answer it before she calls you in.” You grin at his predicament and he snatches it back from you.

“Hey.” He answers, a flat tone to play at neutrality. Her voice comes through tinny, an immediate dive into a conversation that he won’t be paying attention to. You move with purpose, avoiding anything that would make a sound over the phone, a slow roll of your hips while you close in on his other side. Lips pressed to his warm ear that turns bright red under the tip of your tongue.

“Is this one Roy picked for you?” A whisper made of mostly breath and directed only to him. He stutters for a second before clearing his throat.

“No, I’m just…sorry I’m working on paperwork. Yeah, just lost track of time.”

You grab his earlobe with your teeth, a soft press before you pull a little. “Church leader? Something to do with the kids, right?” You run your tongue up over the shell of his ear before you trail kisses back down the side of his face. “She looks like a preschool teacher.” You giggle quietly, still firmly on the other side of his head. Fingers push up the hem of his shirt slowly, featherlight touch of your hand so you can keep him quiet.

“I got it. I know, he told me.” He sighs deep when you run your palm up his stomach but it’s not from pleasure. “Well why are you talking to him about that? No, it’s a valid question.” He snaps and there’s a change in the mood. “You don’t need to talk to my father about it!”

You refuse to let the church mouse ruin your good time. Gator sighs again and tries to sit up, tries to push you off his lap but you press your knees in and hold on. He shoots you a dark look and nods his head to the side like that would make you move, instead it just urges you back into the crook of his neck. You find those two moles under his jaw and start there, lips and teeth and tongue leading your way to his collar. Still quiet but no longer silent, you almost hope she catches a hint of a wet kiss against his neck through the phone.

You undo his belt slowly to avoid the clink and rub of the nylon and metal slide, he keeps arguing with Jess and you get his pants open. He’s close to pushing you off at this point but your hand getting in to grab him over his underwear makes him falter.

“L-look. I’m gonna call you on my break.”

You run your tongue up his flushed neck as you run your hand down his cock and he has to tip his phone away from his mouth, face pointed into the roof to catch his breath.

“Yes I will, I’m busy.”

“So busy.” You say and he turns his head enough that you can see the red circle to hang up. With one hand still in his pants you creep your other up and tap the screen once, cutting off his conversation. He stares at you and blinks slowly before clicking his tongue and dropping his phone.

“I’m never gonna hear the end of that.”

“Do you think she heard me?” You ask, leaning away and taking your hands off him.

“No, but it doesn’t matter, she’s gonna think I hung up on her.”

You start working on your own jeans. “Do you even give a shit?” He helps you when you struggle to pull them down your hips, his brows creased in thought. When your shoes and pants hit the floor you settle against him again and leave space so you can work him out of his underwear.

“If Roy’s picking them then why do you care?” You ask softly while wrapping both hands around his cock. He’s still a little soft but he throbs when you let a line of spit fall from your lips, collecting it in your palm to slide over the fat head of him. “Or do you actually prefer her?”

He won’t look up at you, just watches your hands working over him slowly, concentrated on something that isn’t your voice. “You can be stoic all you want, I’ll keep asking questions.”

“She’s fine.”

“Just fine?” You let fingers wander lower so you can grab his balls firmly. That earns you a pant that blows across your face and makes you smile. “Does she fuck you in your cruiser too? Right here?” You move both hands in tandem and he still won’t look up at you. He grips at the hem of your t-shirt and pulls it in his fists to wrap around his knuckles when you spit into your hand again.

“N-no.”

“Not even in the church storeroom?” You tut, palm rubbing over and over the sensitive underside of his cock. “No?” There’s a tremble in his breathing that tells you he’s loosing his focus on his anger, exactly what you were aiming for. “See, there’s the difference.” You speed up your hand, wet sound of your spit loud in his backseat. “I would.” He squeezes his eyes shut and whimpers through his nose, fists digging into your sides. “I do.” You can feel his balls tighten in your palm and you know your teasing should come to an end. He just looks so different like this, face twisted in pained pleasure in the dark. No shitty smirk or grimace on his face and you can actually see how handsome he is under all his stupid bravado.

From the front seat there’s a crackle of his radio, the station calling in to check on him. A line of codes you don’t know and then a pause.

“…Gator where are you?”

You let him go to slide your underwear over and before he can protest you guide him along your folds, already wet from your antagonizing. “Yeah Gator, where are you?” You rub the head of his cock against your clit and grin at him falling apart at the seams.

“Tillman? Jessie called and said you hung up on her.”

“Jessie?” You laugh and roll your hips against him more, slowly working him towards your entrance. He does look up at you then, his fingers leaving your shirt to dig into your soft hips.

“Gator…c’mon answer damnit, I don’t wanna have to call Roy.”

His cock finally catches and you push down in one swift move. He stretches you but it’s his jaw dropping and his cursing filling the air.

“Oh fuck fuck.”

“You better be dead in a ditch if we send someone out, asshole.”

You use the back of his neck for leverage, nails digging crescents into his hairline every time you roll your hips. Knees dig into the cloth seats, the feeling of rug burn already evident. There’s more radio talk and you can see that frustration shining in his eyes, that anger rolling back in when he drops your gaze.

“Don’t listen to that.” You grab his head between your palms and make it a point to drag your nails against his scalp. “Listen to me.” You pant through your smile at his rapt attention, slight nod under your hands. His phone vibrates against the cloth seat, ignored again in favor of keeping his eyes trained on yours. You can see that sunset photo bright until she hangs up again and you give him a shake to keep his eyes on yours.

“Look at me.” You’ve built a rhythm that he’s just along for, something he’s actually good at. He can follow instructions, just from the right teacher. You rock into him, thighs sweaty against his canvas pants, the cargo pockets digging into sensitive skin. The humidity in the backseat rivals the outdoors, the murmur of the radio mimicking the crickets outside in the tall grass. His jaw tenses before he takes a deep breath and closes his eyes tight again, forehead dipping down to hit your chest.

“Aw, Gator.” You coo and cradle the back of his head. “She doesn’t fuck you like this, huh?”

“No.” There’s a sob somewhere in his throat that he’s keeping down and you make it your goal to ride it out of him.

“You wanna cum inside me so bad, don’t you?”

“Fucking-please!”

“Who’s Jess?” You ask it right into his ear, fingers gripping his hair to pull his head to the side.

“Nobody.” He bucks up into you then, pulling your hips down to keep you against his lap. You clench around him when you feel him throb and that cry finally cracks his voice when he bursts. Still pressed into your chest, nuzzled into the underside of your jaw, this is better than any climax you could hope for in the back of a sheriffs car. He trembles under your hands and breaths heavy against your neck, a distinct wetness that you don’t draw attention to.

He doesn’t say anything in his afterglow. He stays leaned into you until you push him back against the seats and then he sits there looking lost.

“You okay?”

“Mm.” He feels blindly beside him till he hits his phone and flips it so he can see his screen. Another blank stare until he snaps out of it and taps your leg to get you off of him. He shoves his pants back up his hips and has the decency to gather your stuff off the floorboards for you before he jumps out of the back.

“Oh what, no goodnight kiss?” You laugh at him and he shuts the door in your face just to open the driver side to grab his radio. You listen to him call in and apologize, tell dispatch he was doing paperwork and fell asleep. When you’re dressed you make it a point to slam the door on your way out so it makes him grimace. He gives you a stare when you stand in front of his headlights and wait for him to finish.

That sweet begging he slides into when he’s close never lingers long, something you miss when he puts his sneer back on.

“Should I tell them we already handled the ticket?” You wave the paper in front of you like a white flag and he hastily puts his uniform to rights. He hitches his belt back in place and double checks his holster and hefts himself back into the driver seat.

“You can tell them whatever you want.”

It’s then that you actually look at the ticket for the first time and see his note.

Your backseat or mine?

#Gator Tillman Fic #Gator Tillman Smut #Gator Tillman x Reader #My Work #My Fic

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weemssapphic · 7 months

Note

What about Larissa taking the reader to a pumpkin patch and they just have fun all day and get apple cider and pumpkin spice donuts!! And then they get home and put on a horror flic, and the reader swears they aren’t scared but they can’t fool Larissa at all, so she puts something else on? 😋😋I thought it was such a good idea and I would have done something like this myself but you are such a talented writer, I would love to see something like this from you!

A/N: Hello hello! Thank you so so much 🥺 that is very sweet. I thought this would be appropriate for October so I tried to get it done in a timely fashion. I really hope you enjoy 🥺 also... happy Friday the 13th! 👻

we fell in love in october

Larissa Weems x f!reader

Larissa takes you on a sweet autumn date to a pumpkin patch - fluff ensues.

Words: ~2.9k | ao3 link in title

Leaves fell from the tree outside the window, hues of brown, deep red, muted orange coloring the evening sky in their descent. Blown away by a crisp breeze that carried the sounds of students laughing and chatting on their way inside for dinner as the sky slowly turned darker, dusk settling over Nevermore Academy.

The crackling of the fireplace and the clacking of Larissa’s keyboard served as background noise as you lounged on the couch in your girlfriend’s office, engrossed in your copy of Frankenstein by Mary Shelley. You and Larissa had been together for a few months now, and it had turned into an unspoken ritual that you would pop by after work more afternoons than not to keep Larissa company as she finished up her emails, before sharing a glass of wine and some takeout and basking in each other’s company.

Today was no different. Your ears perked up when you heard the tell-tale sound of Larissa’s laptop shutting, and you set your book aside as you heard her footsteps approach. Within moments she came into view, rounding the couch and placing two fingers under your chin to gently lift your head towards hers. Soft, warm lips pressed against your own, and you could feel her smile into the kiss as she soothed her tongue along the seam of your lips. You parted them to allow her to lick gently into your mouth, sighing as her tongue began to dance with yours, every movement languid and loving.

“Hello, darling. Thank you for waiting for me,” she whispered against your lips as the two of you parted for air - you would never tire of her dulcet tones, her voice like music to your ears.

“Hi,” you said with a grin, patting the space next to you. Larissa sat down and you immediately snuggled into her, allowing her to wrap her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your head. “You’re done with work?”

“I’m all yours,” Larissa replied with a chuckle, pressing her lips to your temple - it made you shiver.

“Mmh… Do you think you could be all mine on Friday as well?” You bit your lip, watching Larissa carefully - in spite of her constant reassurance that she enjoyed spending time with you, you still sometimes felt like you were asking a lot. You knew how seriously the principal took her work, but you’d come up with the best date idea and it would be a shame to let the opportunity pass you by.

To your relief, Larissa’s face lit up with a teasing smirk. “I think I could be,” she purred. “Did you have something planned for Friday?”

“Well… This Friday is Friday the 13th… And it’s October! That’s kind of a special occasion. So I was thinking we could maybe go to a pumpkin patch together and have a date-day?” You looked up at Larissa through your lashes with your best pleading pout, watching her lips curl slowly into a soft smile.

“Hmmm,” Larissa hummed, tapping a manicured finger against her chin in thought. “What do you say I work a half-day on Friday and pick you up around noon?”

“Really?” You could feel your limbs start to tingle with excitement. “Can we?”

“Of course,” Larissa said with a chuckle, cupping your cheek. “There’s a little farm near Jericho that has a pumpkin patch around this time of year. I haven’t been but I have heard quite a few students rave about it.”

“Deal,” you said, your words turning into a squeal as Larissa began to pepper your face with kisses, before pressing her lips to yours. You melted into the kiss, as you always did, feeling her warm breath against your lips as she let out a contented sigh.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Friday morning was spent choosing an outfit - you settled on an orange knit sweater, jeans, and loafers, and took to lounging around as you waited for Larissa to pick you up.

She was, of course, punctual as always - the doorbell rang at 12 on the dot, and you shot up from the couch to answer the door.

Larissa greeted you with a soft, gentle kiss, one hand settling on your hip. “You look beautiful. Are you ready to go, my love?”

Blushing at the compliment, you nodded. “Yep, I just need my keys.�� You turned to grab your keys and your bag from the little table next to the door, and allowed Larissa to lead you out to her car with her hand on the small of your back.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

Nothing in your life thus far could compare to the feeling of holding Larissa’s hand in public. Her fingers curled around your own, her warm palm fitting perfectly against yours like a puzzle piece. Today was no different as the two of you ambled hand in hand towards the little farm, only briefly letting go so you could pay for your entry.

“I don’t think I’ve done something like this since I was a teenager.” Larissa sighed wistfully as she looked around, her lips curled up into a soft smile.

“It’s beautiful here,” you breathed, taking in your surroundings.

The highlight of the festival was, of course, the farm’s pumpkin patch - massive orange, white, even green pumpkins nestled amongst bales of hay - resting against the backdrop of a picturesque forest, with leaves turned brown and orange. Across from the pumpkin patch was a corn maze - you could hear the giggles and screams of children flitting between the corn stalks.

“Are we gonna carve pumpkins for Halloween this year?” you asked suddenly.

Larissa’s face broke out into a splitting grin. “I would love that,” she admitted. “Would you like to pick some?”

You nodded eagerly, spending the better part of the next half hour roaming through the pumpkin patch, picking up various pumpkins and handing them off to Larissa for inspection. She watched the entire time with an amused grin on her face, finally helping you settle on not two but four medium-sized, orange pumpkins (one for each of you, and then extras in case you messed up).

After helping you carry the pumpkins to her car, Larissa nudged you and pointed to a small, fenced in area in the distance. “I think they have a petting zoo.”

You could hardly contain the squeal of delight that left your throat at the mere thought, and you dragged Larissa over to the petting zoo.

“Oh, look, you can feed them!” You pointed to the little machines with animal feed, making your way over and purchasing a cupful. The alpacas situated nearest you began to flock around the fence, sticking their head over the top and eyeing you eagerly.

“You wanna try?” you asked, offering the cup to Larissa - she removed her glove and reached out her hand for you to pour a bit of the food in her waiting palm. She stepped up to the fence, glancing nervously in your direction as she stuck out her hand. Her face contorted in surprise as one of the alpacas began to nuzzle her palm, inhaling the feed within seconds.

“It tickles,” she said, quickly retracting her palm as you began to laugh.

“Here, let me try.” You poured some feed in your hand and offered it to a different alpaca, gasping and jumping back a bit. “Shit, you’re right, it does tickle,” you said with a giggle, shaking your hand to get rid of the funny feeling.

“How about we see the goats instead?” you suggested. With a reproachful glance at the alpacas, still gathered around the fence and staring the two of you down, Larissa agreed and followed you to the goat’s pen. There was a little latched door in the fence and you let yourself in, Larissa following behind you - albeit somewhat reluctantly.

The goats could smell the food in your cup and some ambled over immediately. You leant down towards a small goat with a black head and white legs, offering it a handful of feed. It felt much less ticklish than feeding the alpacas, and you handed Larissa the cup so that you could use your other hand to gently pet the goats.

Larissa watched you fondly, holding the cup of feed just out of reach of the eager animals.

“You’re cute, you know that?” she murmured. You looked up, blushing profusely and smiling shyly.

“Give me your hand.” You reached out and Larissa placed her hand in yours, cocking her head and watching with wide, curious eyes as you rested her hand on the goat’s back, holding it as you guided her to stroke its fur.

Larissa’s gaze never left your face, her eyes sparkling with admiration, watching you delight in being able to pet the animals. It wasn’t her favorite pastime in the world, but getting to see you so joyful was more than enough for her to be having a good time.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Let’s go sit down for a bit,” Larissa suggested, giving your hand a squeeze before gently tugging you in the direction of a couple of wooden stands in the distance.

You agreed, and the two of you came to a stop in front of a stand selling apple cider.

“Would you like some?” Larissa asked, already reaching for her purse.

“Is that even a question?” you teased.

Larissa paid for your drinks and the two of you took a seat at a wooden picnic table nearby. You took a sip of the warm apple cider, moaning as the taste exploded on your tongue, and Larissa raised an eyebrow at you.

“What? Does that turn you on?” you purred, taking another sip and moaning even louder this time. Larissa laughed and shook her head, a blush creeping up her cheeks.

“Hush and drink up,” she murmured.

Your eyes scanned the area you were sitting in, lighting up as they landed on a donut stand. “Riss, do you want a donut?”

Larissa nodded between sips of apple cider.

“What kind?”

“You pick.”

You ambled over to the donut stand, returning a few minutes later with two pumpkin spice donuts and handing one to your girlfriend, before settling on the bench across from her.

“Of course you would get pumpkin spice,” Larissa teased, chuckling as she accepted the donut from you.

“I don’t appreciate your tone,” you said with a laugh.

Larissa huffed, taking a bite of the donut regardless and letting out a moan of her own - you began to laugh harder and Larissa joined in, her eyes crinkling at the outer edges and her face scrunching up in glee.

The two of you ate in amicable silence, savoring the donuts and each other’s presence and basking in a surprisingly warm fall day.

“Maybe we could go on the hayride before we go home?” you suggested shyly as Larissa placed the last piece of her donut into her mouth. Her eyes went wide and she nodded, her cheeks puffed out with food. You laughed and Larissa’s face turned pink as she swallowed.

“What’s so funny?”

“Nothing, you’re just very adorable,” you said with a grin, earning you an eye roll and a light, playful slap from your girlfriend. She always said she hated when you called her adorable, but she would blush and smile every single time, so you would keep doing it.

“Call me adorable again and we aren’t going on that hayride,” she mumbled with a soft smile, her eyes sparkling in the low light of the afternoon sun.

Ten minutes later, you were sitting in a wagon with Larissa to your left, the sun slowly beginning its descent in the sky and casting a golden glow over the blonde. Your surroundings were picturesque, but all you could focus on was the stunning woman next to you. It seemed your sentiments were returned, for Larissa’s eyes - flooded with warmth and affection - never left your own. Her right arm was wrapped snugly around your shoulders as her left hand rested on your thigh, her thumb rubbing absentminded circles over your jeans.

“Rissa?”

“Yes, darling?”

“I love you.”

A beaming smile spread across the blonde’s face and she ducked her head, leaning in until her lips were inches away from yours. “I love you, too,” she whispered against your lips, before closing the gap to kiss you. The kiss was soft, and tender - it made your heart flutter and your stomach flip as the last rays of the sun enveloped the two of you in a warm glow.

🎃🎃🎃🎃🎃

“Can we watch a horror movie?” you asked as you stepped through the threshold of Larissa’s apartment after the short drive back from the pumpkin patch. The two of you left the pumpkins outside the door for later.

The blonde raised an eyebrow at you, her expression nothing short of skeptical as she slipped out of her heels and removed her coat. “Are you sure? Don’t you remember what happened the last time we watched a horror movie together?”

“I haven’t the faintest clue what you’re talking about,” you replied airily, kicking off your shoes and tossing your bag on the floor. Of course you knew what she was talking about - you’d gotten so panicked that, during one particularly gruesome jump-scare, you’d thrown the popcorn bowl at the tv. Larissa had found stray pieces of popcorn underneath her couch for weeks after.

“Whatever you want, my dear,” Larissa said with a teasing grin, pressing a kiss to your forehead, before ushering you in the direction of her bedroom. “Let’s get changed first, hmm?”

Being that you spent so much time at Larissa’s, you had a few spare changes of clothes for when you’d spontaneously decide to stay the night - but you still preferred to wear your girlfriend’s clothes whenever possible. They smelled like her, and they were big and soft and somehow just way comfier than your own.

Tonight, you opted for a pair of leggings and an old t-shirt of Larissa’s, while she went for a sage green, silk camisole top and a white cardigan, paired with matching sweatpants. Larissa stepped behind you as you got changed, helping you pull the t-shirt over your head - you shivered as her fingers brushed teasingly down your abdomen, before splaying out over your stomach and pulling you flush against her.

“You’re beautiful,” she whispered softly into your hair, pressing her lips to the crown of your head. You could feel yourself blush and you spun around in her arms, wrapping your own arms around her neck and pulling her in for a languid kiss.

Larissa reached around you, flicking off the light in her bedroom and guiding you back out into the living room, her lips still pressed against yours until the backs of your knees hit the couch.

“Hot chocolate?” she breathed against your lips.

You nodded gratefully, curling up on the couch as Larissa disappeared into the kitchen - returning shortly after with two mugs of hot chocolate.

“Would you like anything else?”

“Nope, thanks.” You accepted one of the mugs - it warmed your hands, and the huge pile of marshmallows on top made you giggle.

Larissa settled beside you, wrapping an arm securely around your shoulders and pulling you into her. “Is The Conjuring alright?” she asked as she began to flick through Netflix.

“Yes! I love Vera Farmiga!”

Larissa chuckled and pressed play, wiggling her hips a bit to get comfy.

You tried to be brave, you really did. But every slight change in the music made your muscles tense, your entire body flinching so bad that you had to place your mug on the coffee table.

“Are you alright, dove?” Larissa whispered, directly into your ear - you hadn’t expected it and you jumped in surprise, your heart pounding viciously. When you turned your head to look at your girlfriend, she was smirking, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“I’m fine,” you squeaked.

Larissa knew you like she knew the back of her own hand - somehow, she’d been able to read you like a book from day one. She snorted and set her own mug down, pausing the movie and wrapping both arms around your waist. You melted into her touch immediately - warm, comforting, safe. Your heartbeat began to slow and you let out a nervous giggle. “Okay, I’m not fine. But we can keep watching it if you want!”

“Hmm… I think I’d rather you feel comfortable with what we watch.” Larissa pressed her lips to yours, her hands stroking up and down your sides. “How about we put something else on?”

Biting your lip, you nodded and accepted the remote from Larissa. Some dumb, silly comedy like The Heat would be good, you thought.

“Come here,” Larissa murmured, patting her lap. You curled up on the couch, resting your head on her thighs. Her hand immediately settled on your head and began to stroke your hair, her nails lightly scratching at your scalp and making you shiver.

“Sorry,” you whispered timidly, peeking up at Larissa through your lashes.

Larissa looked down at you with a confused smile, brushing a strand of hair off your forehead. “Sorry for what, darling?”

“Suggesting we watch a scary movie and not being able to finish it.” You felt your cheeks flush and hid your face in her lap - then you felt Larissa’s lips on your head. “That’s not something you need to apologize for. I promise.”

You peeked up again to see Larissa beaming lovingly down at you, and you sighed in relief, snuggling closer and allowing her to continue stroking your hair as the two of you watched the movie. The perfect ending to a perfect day.

-> some activities (HELLO, PETTING ZOO, ANYONE?) based super loosely on a fall festival/pumpkin patch I visited in 2019 with my best friend, near Nashville, TN - one of my fondest memories! hmu if you want to see a picture of me with a goat <3

Taglist: @alexusonfire @brienneswife @rosieathena @pro-weems-places @bigolgay @kimiinou @imprincipalweemspet @h-doodles @bychrissi @katie-bennet @giogwensversion @gela123 @friskyfisher @justcallmelittleone @michi2504 @scream-queenlover @a-queen-and-her-throne @sequoirius @anne-lister @winterfireblond @imgayforwoman69 @Ssappling2004 @fictionalized-lesbian @i-like-reading @aemilia19 @milfsloverblog @missdowling @billiedeansbitch @The_Demon_of_your_Dream @agathaandgwenslesbian @http-sam @Cute-catx @saltrage @renravens @opheliauniverse @zillahofviolets-bayolet @scarlettssub @catechristiestuff @niceminipotato @barbarasstar @women-are-so-ethereal @thevillagegay @willowshadenox @lilfartbox1 @larissaoftarthweems @syrenacrainn @m-0-mmy-l-0-ver33 @mysaviorfalsegod @thesamesweetie @theonefairygodmother @lvinhs @rainbow-hedgehog @sweetderacine @daydream-cement @catechristiesstuff @im-a-carnivorous-plant @milfomaniac @sapphos-ode @mrs.prentiss @ilovetlcc @toutoubum @lesbiahonest24 @wastdstime @gwens0girl @larissa-weems-chokehold @ladylarissaweems @makemyworldworthliving

Join my taglist here!

#larissa weems x reader #larissa weems #larissa x reader #principal weems x reader #principal weems

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livindeadgirlgrav · 8 months

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Taken

Pairing: The Grabber x fem reader

Warning: Kidnapping, violence, possible dubcon, manipulation, bad language, toxic, NSFW, abuse, Stockholm syndrome!

A/n: Soo I started writing this story I couple years ago and never got to finish it since my old account got deleted soo Imma have my Frankenstein moment! Hope you like! Also I listen to music to help me write stories soo the song for this story particular is Put Me In a Movie-Lana Del Rey

Ps. I don’t condone anything this character does he’s a bad person like all the other slashers!

First + second person pov! Also alternating pov!

There I was running for my life in the middle of the street. No idea where I was or where I was going just knew I needed to leave. I’ve been with my boyfriend for 4 years now. He was a good man but not anymore. I still can’t wrap my head around what happened to him, all I know is he changed. Let me explain how I got in this situation, to make a long story short I’ll start at this morning.

I woke up to the sound of things being thrown about. “What are you doing?” I asked rubbing the sleep from my eyes. “You are a piece of shit you know that!? I should have left you back home! You are worthless!” Your scum of a man shouted at you. “What did I do!?” He turned around and slapped you hard. “You know exactly! Hiding my shit! You are such a child” You held your cheek as you grit your teeth. “You would probably like that huh? I see how you look at any woman!” You spat at him. He completely ignored you as he found his keys. “I’m going to work don’t be a cunt.” He said slamming the door behind him. You huffed looking around at the mess he created, you two had just moved here and got settled in. You couldn’t believe that you left everything for him! Your friends and family just to be abused by him.

Later on during that night you received a call from the douchebag. “Hey I’ll be home late I gotta work overtime.” This was your chance! You could leave him, stop this madness you’ve learned to deal with and take. Well not anymore once the phone hung up you were fast on your feet packing your stuff. It wasn’t a lot you guys moved a lot and when you move a lot you lose a lot too. Your whole life could fit in a backpack and it did. After packing you decided to take a quick shower and brush your teeth. It maybe took you an hour to do everything, you were trying to be quick and thank god you were for when you put your last shoe on, your prick of a boyfriend was walking in the door. “You liar” you thought as you ran to the bathroom locking the door behind you. “Y/n! What are you doing!? Y/n!” He yelled, as he banged on the door you quickly toss your bag out the bathroom window at this point he was practically kicking in the door. But once you crawled out the window and your feet hint the ground the bathroom door gave in. You grabbed your bag and ran hearing the abusive prick scream your name.

And that’s exactly how I got here, running for what felt like miles till I saw a mysterious man and a black van. “Please help me! Please” I said getting closer to the man noticing he was walking a rather large dog. “A man is trying to hurt me! He’ll kill me if he catches me!” I practically yelled. “Okay, okay I’ll help you.. here jump in here.” The man said opening the back of his van. I knew this was sketchy but anything was better then that ex of mine. After a couple minutes I heard him yell. “Hey excuse have you seen a girl about yay high, h/c hair, e/c eyes?” He sounded out of breath as he should be for chasing me. “No I haven’t seen any girl I’ve been walking Samson here.” The man said watching the other breathless man. Hearing his footsteps fade the van door opened. “Thank you so much! I really appreciate it!” The man smiled. “You wanna see a magic trick?” You looked at the man finally noticing he had a top hat and dark shades on which was weird to you since it was night time. Before words left your mouth the man grabbed you and sprayed this sticky liquid in your mouth. You coughed for the taste was terrible and sung the back of your throat. Before the man pushed you back and slammed the door you managed to hit and scratch him . “H-hey! W-what did you give m-me?” You coughed out hearing a hush and the van engine turning on. Samson, the dog bark making your ears ring roughly. You fought as hard as you could but you soon blacked out.

“My neck, my fucking neck. I should snap yours for what you did to my neck.” The man growled before tossing you onto a mattress on the floor. Sitting up I looked at him the best I could, vision still blurry from whatever he gave me. Looking at my surroundings to see what I assumed was a dirty basement. “Jesus it’s covered in blood.” You looked at the man as he crouched beside you giving you a good view of his devilish mask. “It’s like I killed someone. You see that?” He huffed showing me his scratched neck then waving his fingers in my face. “Not like you can see shit.” Starring at the man you grew fearful. “I know that you’re scared but I’m not going to hurt you anymore. What I said about snapping your neck..I was angry is all you did a number in my neck.” He chuckled. “I’m not gonna hold it against you” he said in a more light tone scooting closer to you. “I guess now we’re even.” He said was he played with your hair. “You don’t have to be scared, because nothing bad is going to happen here and on that I give my word Johnny.” The man put up two fingers signaling he swore. “You like soda? Hm? I’ll tell you what imma go get you a soda and then- is that the phone? Did you hear a phone ring?” He got a bit closer to your face so close you could feel his breath if it wasn't for his emotionless mask. “I’m going to get see who it is then I’ll get you a soda and then I’ll come back and explain everything hm?” He stood up and walked to the door turning to take one last look before shutting and locking the door. Gripping the mattress, I looked around seeing this dirty basement was pretty nice. Seeing beside me a black phone, I debated on picking it up but who would I call? I asked myself. Not knowing what was in my system I thought it best to try to sleep it off so I did.

When I woke up the lights were off and the door was still shut. Looking around I was able to get a better view of my surroundings. I grasp the black phone, taking it off the hook and holding it to my ear just to easy my curiosity. "It doesn't work, not since I was a kid. Hang it up." You jumped a little at the sudden noise. Hanging up the phone you turned around to see your kidnapper. The man flipped the lights on. " I know you're scared and want to go home." You stared at the man only seeing his figure due to him not being in the line of light. "I'll take you home soon. Its just..ugh everything is fucked up. I got to be upstairs for a while somethings come up." You nodded a little. "What?" you said softly. "Nevermind what." he said in a tone. "Is it someone up there?" Walking into light you saw the mans mask, it was different he had a big creepy smile and he had a small band-aid like bandage on his neck. For some weird reason you found this mask more comforting then the emotionless one. The man growled. "No one can hear anything if the door's shut I sound proofed it myself, so if you wish to scream or yell do as much as you like, you won't bother anyone." You watched the man grab the door and began to shut it. "I-i don't have a home." The man looked at you and walked back into the room so you could see his face. " I will never make you do anything you won't..like." You backed away a bit, deciding to sit down on the mattress. You were uncomfortable to say the less but for some reason you weren't scared. The man noted your sudden change and shut the door behind him deciding it was best to leave then to keeping the conversation going with you. Once the man left you looked around the room, you found a toilet backed away in a little hall way, old rolls of carpet, and a crack in the cement. Not knowing what to do with your recent discoveries you decided it was just best to try to sleep again. It was annoying but what else did you have to do?

You swore it had been forever since your captor came back down to see you. You sat on the bed with your knees to your chest starring at the door. This isolation was killing you. You stared picking the skin around your fingernails causing them to bleed every now and again. You were anxious, did he forget about you? Were you going to starve to death in this dirty basement? Did someone catch him? Did he not what you anymore? What a minute you thought to yourself did you want him to want you? Snapping out of your thoughts as you heard the door unlock and be pushed open. You sat up letting your knees go. The man walked in with a tray of food. "W-what did you put in that?" You asked as you watched the man walk towards you. "Salt and pepper." He chuckled placing the tray at the end of the mattress he sighed. "Eat it don't eat it. You're already down here, why would I need to drug you?" You were beyond starving, scooting to the end of the mattress you pulled the tray back to the spot you were just in. "Thank you." The Grabber leaned his head to the side watching you through the holes in his mask. As you began to eat the man turned to leave. You nearly choked on eggs trying to speak fast enough to catch him. "Hey! ...Stay." The man looked at you over his shoulder seeing you sitting on your knees. "Please...I don't want to be alone." Watching the man he nodded and walked towards you. You moved to the edge of a corner on the mattress so he could sit on the end, which he did. You noted that the man watched you as you ate and drunk the glass soda he put on the tray.

Once you finished you stared at the man. "What's your name?" "What's yours?" He asked uncomfortable answering the question. "Y/n" You said softly. "That's a beautiful name." You smiled a fair blush forming on your cheeks. You knew none of this was right, especially how you were feeling. Why were you okay with this? You kept asking yourself. "Why did you take me?" Asking softly the man growled a little not liking the question. "I couldn't leave you." He answered, knowing you weren't going to get any more detail you nodded. "Are you the man on the TV? Who took those boys?" You watched his face, his eyes looking for some humanly reaction, but nothing. "That wasn't me, that was someone else.." Not believing him fully you decided to not try to pull more info. "Who was that guy?" Finally asking you a question. "My ex boyfriend bf/n." "Why were you running from him?" You looked down not wanting to talk about it. "He was abusing me. Physically" The man studied your face, scooting closer to you he pushed your hair behind your ear. Looking at his eyes then the smiling mouth of his mask, without thought you reached to touch the mask but as your finger tips grazed the surface the man grabbed your hand tightly moving it away from him. You jumped a little at the sudden movement making the man huff. Letting you go the man stood and walked to the door taking the tray with him. "Wait! I'm sorry I won't do it again." You begged but the nameless man pulled the door to leaving it unlocked. Running to the door you went to open it but you hesitated, leaving the door alone you walked back to the mattress.

After that day you would only see him when he brought you food. You hated yourself for ever trying to touch his mask. He didn't talk to you and he always wore his emotionless mask. You grew to seek his attention and presence. Not knowing if it was the isolation or just the simple fact you were weirdly attracted to him. Not having no sense of time you woke up on what felt like the 50th day, laying curled in a ball watching the phone swing. "Stop it.." "Stop what?" Jumping up you looked at the man seeing he only had his mouth piece of his mask on. "What are you doing?" You said shaky, looking down at yourself just to see if anything was out of place. "I didn't touch you." You looked up at him without lifting your head. "Don't look at me like that." He said with a voice crack at the end. "I just wanted to look at you.." Feeling your breath hence, you pulled your knees to your chest. The man stood from the spot he was just crouching at and walked to you. He sat in front of you starring at you never breaking eye contact. "Your eyes are blue.." He nodded. "My name is Albert. But don't call me that." You smiled softly liking that he was opening up to you, it made you comfortable but it also made these stupid butterflies fly around your semi empty stomach. "Can I call you Al?" You knew who he was, he was The Grabber, the man all over news who took those boys, but you questioned your reality wanting to believe it wasn't him like he said. You did believe it but not in your heart. He nodded as he raised his hand to your face softly brushing his finger against your cheek, you tensed at the contact but relaxed as he continued. Slowly he moved his hand to your chin rubbing it with his thumb and index finger before he rubbed your bottom lip with his thumb. Heart beating fast and loud like a drum you watched him his eyes going back and forth from your lips to your eyes.

"Al."you said breathlessly. Hushing you the man lend in and pressed the lips of his mask onto yours. So many thoughts ran through your head. Should you push him away? Kiss the cold fake lips? Or just sit there? Without thought you kissed the lips of the mask back then pulled away as he did. Albert stared at you his eyebrows raised giving him a sad look. "Al?" He stood up without a word and walked out locking the door behind him, leaving you there alone and confused.

Weeeeelllllll this is part 1 of the story! I hope you guys like it! I'm sorry it's so long but man when I get a story I just can't stop lol anywho part 2 should be up later!

#slasher requests #slasher fanfiction #slasher x reader #slasher fucker #the black phone #the grabber x reader #the grabber x you #the grabber #my wriring #my story #part 1 #black phone #albert shaw

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michverdun · 10 months

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I cowered underneath my bed as I heard the pounding of giant footsteps. He was looking for me, and I could only hope he'd give up the chase before he found me.

I sat there, with my hands over my head as i heard the creak of an opening door. the room darkened as he stood in the doorway, easily blocking out the light from the hallway with his width. He lumbered forward, each step shaking the entire house, until he was standing right at my bed. I saw both of his feet, leading up to bulbous calves, the biggest I had ever seen in my life. I whimpered thinking of just how much muscle was on the rest of his body, and even that small whimper was enough to alert him to my location.

Without so much as a grunt of exertion, he lifted my bed up with one hand, the other trying (and failing) to cover his massive cock.

"Alright Dr. Frankenstein, time to quit moping and deal with your monster." He said.

Without hearing him, I started to beg him not to hurt me, still cowering on the floor.

"Woah, what? Hey," He put my bed over to the side and crouched down as best as he could. "I'm not gonna hurt you. I'm your friend. Where'd you get that idea?"

I stopped whimpering and looked up. He looked just as confused as i did, and while the extra muscle made him even more intimidating, I could tell that he wasn't lying.

"I'm sorry," I said, as i sniffled and stand up. "The other guys got pretty mean after I gave them a dose, especially when I refused to make them bigger. When you started yelling 'MORE' and 'BIGGER' back there I thought it was gonna go the same way."

"Shit man, I didn't know. I'm sorry, I was just really horned up by the feeling of growing. Kinda still am."

He flexed one of his arms to accentuate his point, the bicep swelling with mass. Even with the other people I had given the treatment too, they only seemed to gain around 50 pounds. Miraculous to be sure, but he had to have gained upwards of 200 pounds, maybe even closer to 300. Even with his height, the mas was crammed so tightly his muscles were fighting for room on his frame.

"Fuck, my pecs" He said, bouncing the giant globes of meat that hung off of his frame. "God, they used to be my weakest muscle group, now look at 'em."

"Can I feel?" I blurted out

I felt a rising panic once again, but he only shrugged and bounced them again.

"Go ahead. You helped make 'em doc."

I rolled my eyes at the new nickname that was apparently going to stick, but my hands still reached out and grabbed on to his pecs. The warm slabs of muscle filled my hands completely. I couldn't even fully hold them. my hands felt up his entire chest, just imagining the power present in those muscles, I only paused after I accidentally touched one of his nipples.

"Careful," he grunted "Really sensitive there. Don't wanna have to clean my cum out of your carpet."

I noticed that his hands were clenched, and looking down I could see his throbbing cock was fully hard, with 2 orange sized balls just ready to fire a load. Knowing how receptive he was to both my treatment and my touch, I knew what I had to do.

"Do you wanna get even bigger?" I asked.

He let out a groan as he came hands free, with most of it landing on my clothes or my carpet. He was left panting, looking right in my eyes with the most pleading look I had ever seen in my life.

It seemed like it was time for his second dose.

#muscle fiction #muscle morph

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tenth-sentence · 6 months

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Reports of Ashby and Grey Walter's devices, for example, which show the enduring interest in mechanical creatures, call to mind Jacques Loeb's fascination with the selenium-eyed 'dog' built by J.H. Hammond in the 1900s.³⁴

34 Allen, 1975, p. 78. Note also that in 1956 Walter himself published a sub-Wellsian utopian novel in which, among other things, he predicted a society which had mastered human genetics and ectogenesis.

"Frankenstein's Footsteps: Science, Genetics and Popular Culture" - Jon Turney

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whats-in-a-sentence · 7 months

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The most articulate monster yet: Robert de Niro in Kenneth Branagh's Mary Shelley's Frankenstein, 1994.

"Frankenstein's Footsteps: Science, Genetics and Popular Culture" - Jon Turney

#book quotes #frankenstein's footsteps #jon turney #nonfiction #articulate #frankenstein's monster #robert de niro #kenneth branagh #mary shelley's frankenstein #90s #1990s #20th century

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binghe-malewife-goals · 10 months

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For science, I think we should just. drop Victor Frankenstein in Arcane LoL. U know. Let him lose his shit. Let him grab another Viktor and tell him "STOP BEFORE ITS TOO LATE AND EVERYONE YOU KNOW AND LOVE IS DEAD"

#i think itd be rly funny for Viktor to look up to Victor and Victor going like “do not fucking follow in my footsteps”#vic(k)tors unite #Victor frankenstein #frankenstein #viktor lol #arcane league of legends

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elderberries-and-honey · 3 months

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Despite the fact that she was waiting on a new novel, Winifred decided to return to her favorite. Frankenstein by Mary Shelly.

She read page after page all afternoon, feeling the story as if it were the first time she read it, hardly noticing that the air around her had started to cool as the sunset.

It was a wonder at all that she noticed footsteps crunching along the gravel of the walkway.

With Lawrence still being out, she couldn't help feeling anxious feeling anxious as the stranger approached. Since their arrival to Ireland, she had maintained her solitude, finding comfort in the quiet.

"Hello there, are you Mrs. Baudelaire?" He asked, his voice deeper than any she had heard before.

She briefly glanced at the stranger up and down. "It depends who's asking." She answered flatly.

Bewildered at her tone, his eyelids fluttered. They stared at each other for a long moment, trying to feel each other out. "Well, if you are Winifred Baudelaire, then I have a letter here for you." He told her.

Winifred rose from the bench, curiosity overtaking her worry. "Why do you have my letters?" She questioned.

It seemed the stranger was Captain Oisin Murphy, an Irish sailor who was now retired and worked as a lighthouse keeper nearby.

"The post has instructions to deliver any letters addressed to this residence to me," he explained to her, "I'll have that changed over while you and Mr. Baudelaire are staying here."

She gave a quick thank you to Captain Murphy before eagerly retreating inside to tear open the envelope.

Dearest Baudelaires, We all hope you are enjoying Ireland as we once did. We miss you much over here but there is no need to hurry back! Oscar is doing quite well back home. He has started reading on his own and adores the spring as I hope you are. I've included a photo for safe keeping. Love Always, Beth & Oscar

next / previous / first

#i hope it's apparent winifred isn't trying to be rude! she just has trauma ;~;#ts4 historical #sims 4 historical #ts4 decades challenge #sims 4 decades challenge #ts4 storytelling #sims 4 storystelling #ts4 legacy #sims 4 legacy #the baudelaire legacy #1890 #winifred baudelaire #oscar baudelaire #oisin murphy

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daydreamsandcrashingwaves · 4 months

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Keeping It Close To The Chest (KICTTC) pt. 2

Wow, I really was inspired! It really warms my heart that so many people enjoyed it as well! Again I Frankensteined this together as parts of it came to my brain, then connected them all. I swear I shuffled things like 5 times.

Be safe, make good choices

TW/CW: Child abuse, child murder, death, child death (Danny), Shock/ptsd symptoms, Guilt/ self-blame, Child warriors/soldiers, blood, familial abuse/ neglect

~~~ IF I MISSED A TAG please let me know, I want everyone to be able to make the informed choice that is best for them! ~~~

Here is part one in case you missed it!

Part three Part four

Happy holidays my friends :3

~Ren

One two three four five six. In. Hold.

The air in the bat cave was chilly. As usual.

One two three four five. Out. Again.

Usually, moisture clung to Damian’s skin and clothes. Today it seemed harsh and dry like even the cave was voicing its displeasure and passing judgement. It added to his melancholy and nostalgia.

One two three four five six. In. Hold

His first week in Gotham the rain had been coming down in heavy sheets, he had never seen a storm quite as wild before. He had felt small standing on the Wayne manor doorstep next to Mother, with the wind and rain whipping around them, cradling them in water. He shivered at the memory. Damian had only known the weather in Nanda Parbat, being so close to Ladakh the weather alternated between dry and hot to freezing temperatures in the winter. True downpours were rare due to where the base had been built.

One two three four five. Out. Again

The nights were long and cold. Their room only outfitted with bare essentials, had none of the comfort he had now. Damian can still recall how his little body would shiver and shake no matter how hard he tried to still it. Many winter nights under the protection of the dark, Danny would cross their room to slip under his covers. Two little bodies next to each other, the warmth soothing their bruises and sore muscles while they watched the snow drift down from the window.

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Damian was not in shock as Tim may have suggested. No. He would never fall so far that emotional distress would prevent him from what must be done. The nervous tick to his heart was because of his worry for Danyal. Damian had only accepted the heat reflective blanket so Father would leave him be. He clutched the edges in an attempt to refocus. He cannot remember who dragged the plush chair into the batcave but he supposed being comfortable while waiting for Danyal to wake was acceptable. Damian also grudgingly could admit to himself, they were kind to place it so he maintained visual on his little brother.

One two three four five. Out. Again

Danyal’s blood had stained his costume. Green and red, Damian’s colors but now, well. He’d start by asking Alfred to take a look, see if it could be cleaned but maybe it was time to follow in his sibling’s footsteps and completely change his armor out for something that didn’t threaten to drive him to his knees.

One two three four five six. In. Hold

He wanted to be clean, so he'd be allowed in Danyal's room, but he was stuck where he was. Some parts of his clothes were wet still, other less saturated parts were dry and itchy and uncomfortable. He idly scratched at some, and then abruptly stopped when the flakes caught under his nails. He’d have to talk with Danny about why it seemed his green blood tingled against his skin.

One two three four five. Out. Again

( He would bite his tongue though, he's not so dense to miss the fact that prying is glaringly rude, and he doesn't want to give his brother anymore reasons to run from him. Even if he wondered why Danyal's blood smells like rotting food and sweaty locker room with a touch of something he couldn't name. It was a nauseating combination instead of the iron he has grown used to.)

One two three four five six. In. Hold

Toxic green it was always that blasted bright green. Grandfather lived as long as he did due to the pits, the pits brought Jason back, now Danyal was affected, and he had no idea what to do. He was scared. He was so sacred.

One two three four five. Out. Again

"Heyy Bud, maybe it's time to change and shower?" Richard's voice comes from behind where Damian slumped. Damian allows a quick glance at his eldest brother, before he turns his gaze back to Danny's prone form on the bed.

No, he hadn't flinched at the sudden noise, he obviously knew Richard was approaching his seat. Even if his brother is eyeing him with that look like he knows what Damian is thinking. Damian bites his cheek until he splits the skin. Which he can't. He can try to understand because of his experiences with Jason's death, but. Danny was Damian's twin. His other half, they had always been together. Richard can't possibly understand the guilt he carried for not realizing Danny's plan when he realized something had changed the look in his twin's eye, or how ashamed he is for the sliver of pride he felt afterwards when Grandfather handed Damian with his personal kodachi, a blade every member had coveted. How it felt like betrayal that he had thrived in the League those five years after Danyal's death.

He doesn't know what that's like to lose an intrinsic part of you. He had a family before being adopted by Father. The Wayne's had been allowed to stop for Jason's death. Dick had been allowed to mourn his little brother, to erect a grave to sit with. Damian only had had Danyal and then he died, and Damian was never able to speak of Danyal again until now. Hell, Grandfather was pleased to have taught Damian a lesson on rooting out weakness. He regrets not trying to bring life to those memories he cherishes.

Damian's frustrated with himself, the small movement was meant to be a reach for one of the knives that are still lining his body. Inescapable evidence he is balancing precariously on a knife's edge. Evidence Richard is no doubt started collecting the minute he had realized Damian recognized him. A fierce scowl finds its way onto Damian's face as he clenches the material of his pants between his fists. He wants to scream. If he were Jason, he'd snort at his brother's insistence in taking Bruce's place when he glitches over big emotions, when inevitably hides from his children until he's done processing.

Damian doesn't say anything though for a couple minutes, he knows Richard is caring and kind but the idea of talking about feelings with his sappiest brother has Damian suppressing a shutter. He doesn't want to talk about any of this, even if he knows his grace period to collect his thoughts is running out quickly.

"I'll stay with him while you're gone." Richard offers quietly, "Babybat, please?"

The name hasn't bothered Damian in years but now it has him seething and baring his teeth. "Do not call me that Grayson." Damian has never been the baby of the family, that spot has always been Danny's.

No one has questioned his prickly disposition since his arrival or knows why he hates their pet names or where and he disappears on his birthday. They dismissed it with condescending smiles, ruling it as him finally acting like a child, more anger, less murder. Like throwing a tantrum over a ripped toy. How has he managed to fool a family of crime fighting detectives?... He's the superior son of course. The sentiment rings hollow, if they don't know it's because they didn't bother to ever really get know Damian past his carefully constructed front. Truly, Damian thought, a ten-year-old fooling all of the Bats and Wings is ridiculous. Damian is stubborn to a fault and decided if they think his grief is equal to an upset child, well he wasn't going to point it out for them. It took Danyal dropping from the sky for them to realize, there was more to Damian than they knew.

Grayson is watching him carefully now, but his posture remains open, relaxed, his warm smile still firmly in place. Even if Damian knows the tightness at the corners indicates his rising anxiety. Damian still wants to break those perfect teeth of his.

This isn't easy for him, why would he make it easier for them.

Instead of acting on his impulse to maim, he paces closer to the glass, allowing himself to remember their childhood, Danny had burned brightly in the darkness the League surrounded itself in -too brightly- and ultimately snuffed out. Danny was all enthusiastic questions, witty remarks and freely given smiles. He had intended to tell Father about his dead twin, had been preparing how to report the situation just right in the time it took to travel from Nanda Parbat to Gotham with Mother, surely Father would let him speak of Danyal, even once would have been enough.

The whole point of Mother sending him away to live with Father was to get him away from the League and Grandfather's influence. Away from his wretched rules that prevented him from honor Danyal as he should. Mother had tried to hide her emotions away but when Grandfather had started talking about Damian like he did Danny those last few months and -well, Damian was an excellent assassin being the son of Talia Al Ghul and Bruce Wayne; two of the most resourceful people out there- he knew what her fear looked like in the forced steadiness of her hand as she lead him away, the sorrow in her brow. He knew his Grandfather would soon order him dead as well.

Mother had him pack his bag and took him to Father, one twin lighter than planned. His Father was nothing as expected. Damian had imagined someone like Mother, always calm and collected, her icy displeasure, her quiet pride. Batman was close to expectation, Bruce Wayne on the other hand was loud, emotive, emotionally compromised. Damian would've shrunk under his Father's attention that first meeting if not for his rigorous training. Anger, guilt, resentment all flew around the room. He kept the secret of his twin buried where it couldn't hurt anyone; he had seen Father's reaction to Damian, nothing good would happen if he told Bruce. The detective would surely push and pry until their secrets lay at his feet, once a mystery was presented to him Batman would stay on it until he was satisfied with the answers. The destruction would only be regretted in the aftermath.

It was demeaning to allow his new family to think he lacked in his training but for those first few months with Danny saturating his thoughts Damian would turn to where Danyal would be at his elbow, would open his mouth to whisper in Arabic to share their secrets like they used to or he would leave his blind spots wide open, shame and grief had warred inside him for a long time. Damian had loved his little brother with everything he had and then he was gone- killed by his own hand at his Grandfather's request. The Waynes had given him this new family with assorted siblings overnight, and itmade him breathless to acknowledge that Danyal would never thrive in this warmth.

(Danny had been a mischievous child, witty and too smart for his own good to the frustration of their teachers. Even if he fell short in martial arts and weapons training compared to his older brother, he was better at blending quietly into the shadows. The twins shared a fierce protectiveness between them of course but Danyal? Danyal was creative, had an inherent genius for tricks and traps. Danny who cried in their room after a mission but did not hesitate with those who disrespected Damian. The only evidence their teachers would find was the self-satisfied look on Danny's face, much to their anger. With no evidence to show Grandfather they were forced to be content with pushing them harder until one of them collapsed and then took glee in punishing the one who fell behind. (No matter how much Damian helped with Danyal's sword swings or his forms, his twin rarely beat him in a straight fight.)

Danyal would crawl into his bed those nights seeking his twin's warmth in the cool desert night, and he'd fix Damian with this blazing look before shying away, moving his attention to Damian's hands he would trace every scar and callous until Damian drifted to sleep. Danyal would wake him before their trainer arrived and they'd steal a few quiet moments for themselves.

(The only time Damian woke before Danyal their hands were still between them entwined, his little hand was clutched tight-like Danyal was afraid of it being snatched away. Damian gave a little squeeze back and Danny's eyes fluttered open. When he saw Damian next to him his face stretched into Danny's true smile, soft, shy and sweet. A smile for Damian alone. He has started to forget what it looked like.)

Damian had been adrift in this new world away from the strict dogma the League required. The new rules he was expected to live by now were so different, he constantly wished Danyal was here for Damian to find some familiarity in. He was on an uncontrolled spiral those first months until he had given in to Richard's soft support. It had stung at first, to receive the affection that only Danny had given him in the past.

Richard was the one who noticed he was spending his free time sketching, dragged him out of the manor to give him his first bound sketchbook with charcoal and had beamed proudly the first time Damian allowed him to see it being used. Damian knew just how hard his brother loved their family, loved him. It was the only reason Damian quelled the urge to stab him, even if it was extremely tempting.

No, he must be intentional now. Strong in the face of what is sure to be murky doubt at Damian's claims. Tim had tried to run a paternity test with the blood from one of Danny's bandages Alfred had discarded- it came back with an error message about twenty minutes ago, but Tim was nowhere to be found. If he can bring Richard over to their side before the rest of their siblings or their father push their way into the batcave for answers, he'd manage to keep things relatively neutral while he argued his case.

Damian takes a deep breath strengthening his resolve. This is for Danyal, he will not misstep now with so much on the line.

If Damian fails to convince them, he will take Danny and run. Between the two of them no one would be able to find them unless they wished it to be so.

“Damian…” Dick says his name carefully, with as much feeling as he can, because he knows the shock of having his brother rise from the grave you buried him in. He aches that one of his siblings ever had to go through what he did. “ I think someone should be with you while we wait for him to wake up.”

The sneer of disgust that overtakes Damian’s face at his words was expected and how familiar it was had Dick shoving aside the burst of fondness that it caused, and he cuts Damian off before he delivers what surely is a scathing reply.

“I know you want to be by Danyal’s side, and I can see how much you love him…" Dick clears his throat when it threatens to close, he has to keep talking because this isn't just about Damian, this is about their baby brother that looked terrified under Damian's gaze in the warehouse. "You saw his injuries; I’m worried with how scared he was earlier Danyal may injure himself more if he feels overwhelmed.”

Damian’s eyes closed tightly against the agony that shot through his chest. He knew that. He didn’t need Richard’s reminder. For Danny to look at Damian with such terror, pleading with him- Damian has never hated himself more. He has no doubt this is truly Danyal, Damian knows clones don't carry scars, scars show the life you've lived, it's unique no way to replicate it. They were all there just like Damian remembered.

As heir Damian had to be cold and merciless in the League, he was used to those around him being afraid of his capabilities, of how easily he could snuff out their lives, at one point he had been proud of his Grandfather’s smile when he had heard his four-year-old grandson had taken down his trainer with ease. He had never been that way with Danyal, distant sure, he had to be under the League.

But now that he’s been away, had a chance to meet so many people he knew better. He never felt as alone as he does now, Dick besides him and Danyal resting close by. He never wanted to cause his brother such pain. Richard could be right, he was much more knowledgeable on feelings than Damian, who still stumbles on the finer intricacies of societal interactions. He.. He would do anything for his little brother and if that meant sending him far away from here, Damian would do it. Would help him escape Batman and Bruce Wayne who were both annoyingly persistent. The others.. he could convince, he had enough blackmail stored away for an important favor. It was enough knowing Danyal was alive.

(No. He’s lying to himself. He’s so close to unraveling but will grit and bare it. It’s his responsibility, he always will look after Danyal. No matter the personal cost. He can practically feel Richard’s devastation from here; he’s sure his older brother is desperate to make this better, however he can. Damian won’t let him. He deserves Danyal’s fear, he was a murderer masquerading as a boy. A boy who in this moment aches to hold his little brother close like when they were kids. Beg his forgiveness and sob and marvel because his fear makes this real, his brother is alive. If Damian believed in miracles this would be his.)

He cannot afford to lose this head with Danny vulnerable in the next room, so he breathes a long breath through his nose again stubbornly not looking at Richard, keeps his eyes on his baby brother, watches his strange breathing rhythm raise and lower the sheets in reassurance his twin is still with him and turns his body towards Richard, a small concession.

"Danyal is my little brother, my twin." It's said slowly, Damian carefully controlled his tone, flat, to the point. Damian just had to get this report out, "When we were five Grandfather ordered that I lay claim my title as heir."

From the corner of his eye Damian can see Richard's smile tighten with tension in an effort to keep it there, now that Damian has started though he pushes past the guilt that has haunted him to finish, " I was superior in martial arts and weapons handling but I was too rigid, Danyal- he" Damian's throat is tight, like there is a rock in his throat, and he clears it quickly. "We excelled when we were together, he took to the things I had not. I knew I'd be Heir, being the eldest grandson. But-" He chokes and Richard makes an aborted motion to touch him. Thankfully he waits.

"But I knew he'd be my Shadow; We'd rule together as soon as I took my place at as the Demon Head... Until Grandfather made us duel." To the death goes unsaid but Damian could see the horrible realization breaking across Richard's face, so he turned his head to look at where the bats nest was among the stalactites. He could make out their mass if he looked hard enough. "Danyal threw himself onto my sword and I killed the person I promised to protect!" Damian pauses, and whispers into the air between them. "There was so much blood." It wavers in his mouth but doesn't break.

The truth burns as it's coming out. Damian got all the big things into the open, now he allows himself to fall into his elder brother's arms and weep. All his pain and regret soaking Richard's shoulder. His body is still sitting with Richard, but Damian is back in a time filled with sharp strikes, where punishment was to be embraced. Swords against whetstones. Legacies to be molded. Damian can hear the whoosh of leather through the air and on cold nights the scars on his back ache.

Damian shivers now in Richard's hold his breath clouding the space between them. Damian shoots straight out of Richard's arms as soon as he realizes it's not just his breath that's visible. The cave had gone from chilly to freezing in a flash. The temperature in the warehouse had dropped too, right before his twin came tumbling out of the sky. Something is wrong. In the time Damian had looked away something had begun to stir in the recovery room. The once steady if slow beating of his twin's heart now resembles an average heartbeat.

Energy pulses. Biting wind almost takes their feet off the ground. The lights burst, raining glass from the ceiling. Richard throws an arm around Damain and pulls him into one of those springy twists only he could do that brings them under some cover.

A shadow writhes in the dark of the recovery room and Damian struggles to free himself from Richard's grip. "Danyal!" He's becoming desperate. Danyal has to be alright. Damian cannot handle losing his baby brother again. Richard stays firm. "Let me go! Please he could be hurt." His voice cracks over the plead, he feels small. Small and helpless. Two things he swore that day he would never give into again.

Running out of patience Damian swipes at him with a blade and when Richard yelps and releases his arm he rolls, pushing into a sprint once he drops. Only to stop cold a few feet from the door. Peeking up at him from the side of Danyal's bed are solid glowing green eyes.

Part Three 01/06/2024

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