#the rest of the story leading up to it not so much

[yanderenightmare]

TW: noncon, bullying, angst, unwanted pregnancy

fem reader

You were a real ugly duckling story when you were young. Pushed around and bullied for nothing, then drooled after the moment you grew tits. Kids are so quick to change at that age. You started hating them for it early on.

You’d keep to yourself most of the time after switching schools—wanting none of the previous to follow you. Still, you’d attend a party or two when you felt like drinking for free. You’d watch the boys act like fools and the girls act like whores with eyes lazy and drunken. But you couldn’t say you weren’t one of them—in your little black dress reaching just beneath the curve of your ass, low in the dip between your tits. 

None of you should have been drinking. You were all still too young for any of it, and none of you knew how to hold yourselves. But a part of your angsty heart romanticized it when you were puking up your stomach in the bathroom—both arms resting on the toilet seat with your head lying cheek-down against the soft and sticky flesh.

You still remember the smell and how you’d imagined the bacteria cling to your sweaty skin like a coat of grime. Something about it was so movie-esque, you couldn’t help but feel like the self-destructive lead in some bad teen drama.

A rude banging on the door had taken you away from the thought—a boy. 

“Oi! Open up—need’a piss!” he’d yelled. Audibly drunk. Not that you judged him with what you’d poured down your throat now in the toilet bowl—just clear spirits with a few suds of spit.

You sighed, lifting your head with a soft blink. Getting up slowly, you’d flushed your vomit and pulled your dress back down before sauntering over to the locked door. You’d twisted the key, and the guy behind it had barged in before you’d even opened it up. Pushing past you, he had his dick out and aimed at the bowl with a heavy groan with you still in the room, throwing his head back in acute relief.

Suppose you’d been just as drunk as he was, looking at him while he took a piss—no, rather… you were a little preemptive because of the shock. 

It was him. The reason you switched schools.

The memories leave you cold as a corpse as they flood you.

You had such a big girly crush on him back when you were kids. You were so embarrassing—following him around with pink love letters and chocolate, practicing writing a thousand Mr. and Mrs. in all your notebooks.

He was your Prince Charming. You thought he was just the coolest, smartest, most handsome boy you’d ever met, and dreaming of being his girlfriend made you kick your feet and scream into your pillow.

But then that dream kicked you in the stomach.

Turned out, he found you dumb and annoying. Actually, he found all girls dumb and annoying, but youespecially—following him around like a lost puppy, being so pathetic it made him cringe at the sight of you, staring at him always like you were expecting him to pull the sun down and gift it to you. You were a fuckingplague.

And he’d made sure to spread that sentiment. 

Soon, you’d become a social piranha—no one dared stay your friend much longer. You were an outcast—a loser—laughed at when walking the hallways, and no stranger to a half-empty milk carton being thrown your way—tripped and pushed and hair-pulled—people would steal your things or throw them in the pond or even try flushing them down the toilets. The only safe place became behind the locks in the bathroom stalls, but even there, it was hard to find peace with all the things people would write on the walls about you—the same nasty things written on your locker and desk and internet… 

The hopeless romantic within you died—and all your fantasies about Prince Charming did the same.

Bumping into him at that party after changing schools was only a twist of fate, as though making a cruel joke.

“What?” he’d bit out, his head lazily slanted sideways to give you a look, but then his eyebrow lifted in late recognition you’d wished hadn’t come. “Tch—why, if it isn’t little miss love hearts.”

He’d shaken off and zipped himself back up—didn’t bother flushing or washing his hands. Instead, he’d gone straight to you, and you’d stood there—still—eyes wider than they’d been for a long time. You’d have been more surprised he even remembered you, but in the oncoming of dread, you were a little too numb to feel much of anything except slightly hung up. 

“Speechless, huh? Still crushin’ on me?” he’d drawled awfully with a sloppy grin, resting his weighty body with a hand on the doorframe, shadowing you as you stood on the threshold. 

You hadn’t been the only one who’d grown up quickly. He was taller, bigger, stronger. In a tight black tee, you’d spotted the rich lines of his muscles. It made him look a little older than kids your age should. But you suppose it was the same with you with your push-up bras and G-strings and high-heels and smokey eyes.

“Barely recognized yah—lookin’ a little better since droppin’ out—or d’yah switch to another crummy school?” His hand had reached out, and your breath had stilled—throat tightening to a choke as he fiddled with a lock of your hair. He’d let out a laugh, entirely dismissive of the trepidation you’d felt stuck. “Guess that’s my fault huh? Since breakin’ your wittle heart~”

You’d wanted to say something snide, walk away casually once and for all. But more than that, you’d wanted to run. You wish you had. But none of the sorts happened. You’d just ended up standing there silently as if someone were capturing the look of pure anxiety in a portrait.

“Tch—since you’ve already had yer wet dreams come true, seein’ my dick—maybe you’d like to touch it too, hm?”

With a breathy hitch in your voice, you only managed to whisper out a weak, “No thanks.” Turning on your heels with wobbly knees with a single blaring thought on repeat in your head—just get out of there, just get out of there, just get out.

You wish you had, but fate had other plans for you that night.

“Oi.” His callused palm had wrapped itself around your arm and stopped you dead in your tracks. “Fuck’s that about, huh?”

Pushed up against the spine of the doorframe, you’d winced but felt too stunted to do much else. “Let go.”

“Tch—that’s not how it works.” He’d snickered again, breath soaked with beer and vodka and smoke while it wafted across your face in the damp heat of his words. “Dress like an open invitation—you can’t turn down the ones who come knockin’, slut.”

You shudder when your memories of the next events start playing. You’d suppressed it for years, but seeing his face and hearing his voice brought it all back. Standing before you, years later, on your doorstep, rubbing his hands together nervously while searching for the right words to say.

“Uhm…” He swallowed thickly. “Don’t—uhm—know if you remember me.” That’s a stupid thing to say. He scolded himself but stayed committed to it anyway. “It’s me… from middle school.” 

He made himself cringe—barely able to look you in the eye where you stood, unreadable expression donning your face. He doesn’t know what compelled him to track you down again after all this time, nor what he hoped to achieve by coming here—all he knew is that in between days of endless drinking and living his best but mostly empty life, the only part of his heart that still bothered feeling something real was hung-up on his memories of you. You, who could have offered him so much more if only he’d had the balls to take it.

 “I—I know this is—uhm—fucked up,” he excused himself in the same fashion a boy up for arrest would. “But I…” Swallowing thickly, he took a deep breath, hung his head, then let it go. “I did something unforgivable to you five years ago, and I’ve regretted it ever since.”

He looked up to see your features hadn’t changed.

“I’ve tried forgetting—‘cause it’s been eatin’ me up inside, but—this is fuckin’ selfish—but… I needed to let you know how sorry I—”

“Mommy! Who is it?”  The boy had broken everything off. He came running with stomping steps to attack your leg, peering around it to look up at the man standing there.

“Oh! It’s just a salesman, honey,” you excused—your smile a bit too tight to be called natural as you stroked the top of the boy’s familiar hair. “Mommy will be done real soon, okay? Wait for me inside, yeah? You can watch whatever you want until I’m done.”

The boy hadn’t noticed your discomfort, too blinded by the offer. 

“Really?! Score!” is all he squealed out before bolting back inside.

Old Prince Charming blinked. Once, maybe twice, maybe a dozen times rapidly. “Is that—"

“No,” you interrupted, closing the door once the man reached his hand out. Already having taken a step as though he planned on rushing after the kid, he stopped short when you placed yourself in front of the door, blocking him.

He breathed. Once, maybe twice, maybe a dozen times rapidly. “Shit—” Swallowing thickly, he combed both hands through his hair while staggering back. “It is, isn’t it?” He met the metal railing behind him with a clank. “I need to sit down—” Slipping down it until he’d dropped to the floor with a thud—still holding his head. “Fuck—”

“There’s no need for any of that,” you spat coldly. “He’s mine and wants nothing to do with you, so get lost before I call the cops.”

“That’s my son—” he objected, but he hadn’t a complete grip on the situation—voice an overwhelmed and weak excuse, something you easily stepped on and snuffed out like a spent cigarette bud.

“He’s my son.” You’d raised a strict pointer finger at his face in warning—like a sharpened knife aimed right between his wide eyes. A fierce scowl warped your face, huffing stiff breaths through a flared nose—lips in a prim line as you glowered at him in unfaltering disdain.

And his head was in such a state of turmoil that, for the first time in his life, no words could make it out on his tongue to refute it—remaining at a complete loss.

“You came here to apologize, right? Or whatever the fuck you call all that mumbling you just did,” you questioned in the gap of his silence, taking a step back while straightening yourself, looking down your nose at him—jaded with a voice just as cold—void of all emotion, as though you had none whatsoever to spare him. “Apology accepted if you go away and never show your face here again.”

And with that final sentiment, you turned your back and opened the door. 

You didn’t slam it, but you might as well have.

The metal grid he sat on began eating into his flesh, and the bars behind would soon make his back ache—and still, he remained sitting there for a while. Thinking of all the ways he’d ruined your life…

As well as all the ways you were going to complete his.

BNHA – Bakugou, Dabi, Hawks

JJK – Sukuna, Geto, Gojo, Naoya, Toji

#yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x you #yandere imagines #yandere smut #yancore #smut #yandere my hero academia #yandere boku no hero academia #boku no hero academia smut #mha smut #yandere mha #yandere bnha #my hero smut #my hero academia smut #bnha smut #yandere jujutsu kaisen #yandere jjk #jujutsu kaisen smut #jjk smut #yandere boyfriend #boyfriend #boyfriend scenarios

[elderwisp]

On Repeat - an oc tag

rules are pretty simple, pick as many (or as little) oc's as you'd like and find a song that you relate to them the most! feel free to mention why too! o and tag some more ppl too! that would be cool! i tag: @goldenwaves @acidheaddd @dejasenti99 @earthmoonz @moonfromearth @stinkrascal @matchalovertrait @lynzishell @sirianasims @vicciouxs @gvaudoiin-tricou @smulie @living-undead @pralinesims @lucidicer @literalite @nepotisim @mattodore @madebycoffee @daniigh0ul @changingplumbob @yukikocloud @cinamun @moonwoodhollow @youredreamingofroo @acuar-io @raiiny-bay

deep dive below ⇣

Frances Dubois:

Something about the whimsical instrumentals backed up with the haunting vocals almost reminds me of someone stuck in a loop. There's repetition in the chorus that solidifies that feeling. I also like the juxtaposition of the French lyrics, like the second singer is aware and has a desire to change. When I think of Frances, I envision someone in limbo and part of that is the inability to make a decision. She finds herself stuck, in a way, her anxiety makes the decision for her because doing nothing is something. Whilst Icarus has helped nudge her into making decisions such as aiding her in graduating, speaking to Atlas, and supporting her in her audition. there's still this internal desire to make that move on her own. The first time we see her do that is when she decides to kiss Icarus, which in a way, pushed her back into her loop as it didn't end well. As of current events, she's avoided him since.

↬ sometimes - mattyeux and princess chelsea

Daniella Álvarez:

This song to me encapsulates someone who has had to be independent at a very young age. The beginning opens with spoken lyrics, "She asked me who's taking care of me, I said, 'I take care of me'" and whilst incredibly empowering, there's always that question of how did we get here? Dan is the eldest of two younger siblings. In fact, there's quite the age gap between her siblings and if we look at Valeria, she also looks just as youthful. Dan is the product of an unplanned pregnancy as well as a bit of a narcissistic mother. The disorderly environment in which she's been given, learning to be a caretaker of her siblings and the constant pressure of success has lead her to have self-sufficient character. Whenever I think about her dynamic with her friends, I'm reminded of this scene, and she's the glue that is trying to hold the chaos together.

↬ taken care of - suzi wu

Kai Castillo:

Christ this song is so good. The instrumentals backed up by the vocals, feels a bit somber. Throughout Tessellate, Kai hides behind the fact that he has these feelings towards Atlas and they've started to bubble over into jealousy as Atlas's relationship grows with Kai's sister, Taryn. I also love that there are a lot of comparisons here to Lucifer Morningstar and religious elements. Kai's relationship with his religion is somewhat of a paradox as he is a closeted gay man to his parents, his sister and church. In fact, he does a lot of things that would bring quite a bit disapproval. He's unforthcoming, somewhat suspicious because his secrets have given him a reason to be. His story is of one that falls from grace.

↬ i am the antichrist to you - kishi bashi

Atlas Dubois:

While Paul Julian Banks narrates a song about struggling with addiction, I noticed there's a bit of a different beat in comparison to the rest of Interpol's songs. The tempo is much slower, as if exhaustion has set in and we're barely moving along. When we meet Atlas, it's at the beginning of a fresh start, not really knowing what has happened prior. Slowly throughout, we pull back minor details that entail his complex struggles with addiction. What initially started out as a bit of fun, became all consuming, allowing any given opportunity to be a reason why he should use. The bridge of this song also discuss the contrast between himself and his partner discovering his addiction for the first time. There's also a change in his tone during that that I find to be so neat! It does remind me a bit of his relationship with Taryn. I do know that addiction lasts a lifetime, and that love doesn't solve it all, but I also know that right support is the most important.

↬ rest my chemistry - interpol

#u guys remember those ipod commercials where there was a black silhouette and a really colorful background? ah good times #that was the inspo for this but in reverse #also kai looking like a happy lil guy but his song being so SAD LMAOOOO lore accurate #i tried to include as many ppl as possible from the original post or ppl i notice enjoy deep dives with their ocs #AH OK #oc: frances #oc: dan #oc: kai #oc: atlas #tag thingy #tessellate: extras #ts4 #simblr #my sims #show us your sims

[superblysubpar]

series masterlist | my blog is 18+

chapter summary: A bet is proposed.

the song: honey by halsey

2,563 words | please see the masterlist for general warnings

Hawkins, Indiana - the past

  Your fingers tightened around the handlebars, palms damp and grip too loose for your liking. A deep furrow seems permanent between your brows, resting under the cherry red plastic that brought you into this mess. Their words ringing in your ears like a jingle of a commercial - annoying and unable to ignore if you tried. 

  “What a girl - she needs a helmet to ride a bike?”

  And if that comment alone wasn’t bad enough, Steve Harrington had to chime in. Leaning over his own handlebars, smirking, daring you to challenge him. 

  “What you need it for anyways? Not like you were planning to go down the destroyer. Bet you were just going to Benny’s for ice cream.”

  The other boys had snickered, Steve’s smirk grew into a full wattage, cocky, grin. That is until you lifted your chin, kicked up dust directly at him as you turned your bike and said: 

  “Cute you still call it the destroyer. I’ve been biking down that hill for years. How about I show you and buy you an ice cream cone afterwards Harrington?”

  Boys ‘oo’ed’, Steve’s jaw clenched, and your chest filled with some sort of powerful and addicting feeling as you biked towards your lie. 

  Which now sits in front of you. The legend so aptly named by the Hawkins population of thirteen and under due to it’s sheer height and the gravel that sat below it. A hill way out near the Quarry, it took half the day to bike there and back - if you still had your bike after that is. It was the tallest point in Hawkins aside from a grassy hill teens would sneak away to. 

  From the top of the destroyer, you could see the whole town, all the way down to the bottom of the Quarry, the road, and where it turned to gravel to lead to the sort of landing at the base of the pit. 

  It was the point the hill turned to gravel that truly gave the bike killer its name. If one somehow got the courage, or in your case straight up stupidity and false confidence for brains, to decide to go down the hill, your speed by the time you reached the bottom would be too much and the gravel was a relentless enemy. 

  You’d heard stories of bikes skidding, of scratched up, bruised limbs. There was even a tale of one boy who toppled over his handlebars and popped his shoulder out of place. 

  And you’d told Steve Harrington you’d been going down it for years. 

  “Hey.”

  His voice was far quieter than you were used to hearing, like he wanted you to have to lean in and listen to what he was about to tell you. 

  When you turned to tell him you didn’t care for what he had to say, you were shocked to find his cheek pulled between his teeth, wavy hair pushed up at odd angles like he’d run his hands through it a few too many times. Steve wrapped his fingers around his own handlebars tighter, like if his grip was strong enough, yours would be too, straddling his bike next to yours and gulping as he looked down the hill. 

  “What?” You finally asked, fingers toying with the straps of your helmet. 

  “I don’t think you should do this…” 

  As the boys whispered behind you, you frowned and didn’t dare think about how Steve’s voice wobbled a little, like there was some real emotion behind the warning. 

  Like he cared. 

  “I’m truly touched you were able to scrounge up enough brain cells to force a thought, but I have never and will never care what you think Steve Harrington.”

  That same swelling feeling of triumph filled your chest when the other boys laughed and Steve’s ears started to turn as red as your helmet. 

  Steve ignored the laughing, voice a twinge stronger than before as he said, “You’re gonna get hurt.”

  “I’ve done this hundreds of-“

  Steve said your last name, grabbed your handlebars. His golden eyes burning with something as he practically begged you to listen to what he was trying to say.

  “You’re being stupid.”

  From this close, you could see more freckles along the bridge of his nose, see that his eyes weren’t brown but had a little green in them. You could smell lemonade and sunblock and something about it all made you panic. Made you push him off and add extra bite to your tone, hoping your words stung him.  

  “Yeah? Well, you’d know all about stupid, Harrington.”

  And then you pushed off, the call of your name drowned out by the wind rushing past your ears. 

  Hawkins, Indiana - the present

  Your eyes roll almost in time with Harrison Ford’s. A man who’s currently on the suspended screens because he has some weird thing about a movie with him being on while he’s flirting. Like Harrison’s energy is in the store with him, a guiding wingman. 

  What a tool. 

  Eddie’s lips quirk up in a lopsided smirk across from you when your shoulders tense at the shrill giggle to your left. You roll them back, then your head from side to side. Your fingers meet to form the goal post again, elbows sticking to laminated sheets screaming about summer deals and most definitely some sort of residual soda spill.

  “So,” a deeper voice than what you know it to typically sound like catches the tail end of the giggle, “If I were to call this number right now-“

  “I’m not home, silly,” another forced giggle interrupts. 

  Eddie sighs when you straighten up again, your teeth snapping at a red vine as you watch the hand reach forward and tuck a perfect blonde ringlet behind an ear, then linger. 

  “Well,” he leans in, voice stickier than the honey of his eyes, “If you were home…I’d call you.” He taps the tip of her nose with the pad of a finger, then flashes a smile brighter than the overhead fluorescents. “And ask you if you’d be free for a movie tonight?”

  Robin snorts next to your ankle behind the counter. Green vest covered shoulders rising as they shake with somewhat silent laughter and her head hides between her knees, tapes scattered on the floor around her. 

  Your head shakes back and forth in baffled amazement. It’s like an accident - you can’t help but watch  the wreck that’s about to-

  “And if I were home to answer, I’d tell you to pick me up at 7.” 

  The red vine falls from your mouth onto the counter, as you watch a little piece of paper leave manicured fingers and slip into the front pocket of his gray polo.

  A paper football smacks your nose as Eddie sighs out of his. As her hips sway under tight denim, haloed by the bright sunshine when the trill of the door chimes on her exit, the overpowering scent of vanilla and peaches continues to suffocate. 

  Steve Harrington turns to you all with a cocky grin. He pulls the digits scrawled in loopy font out of his pocket and nestles it between brown leather and green bills before returning the wallet to his back pocket with a pleased sigh. 

  “Oh yeah, I’m back.”

  And then he high fives the TV.

  Not just a tool - a whole box of them.  

  Steve turns when you snort, eyebrows raised at you as he takes his place behind the counter again. 

  “Something funny?” He asks, reaching toward your box of red vines. 

  “Real funny,” you admit, snatching them closer, “That you think anything about that interaction means you’re back.”

  Your waist hits the counter as you step out of his reach when he takes another forward with a tilted head. His fingers just miss the red candy when he huffs. 

  “Enlighten me, babe.”

  “Don’t,” you hiss, “Call me babe.”

  The counter digs into your back, Steve leans in closer, mint and cedar beginning to overpower the peaches, and you hate that you don’t mind the difference. 

  Steve’s lips smirk, a freckle just above his top one lifting as he tsks, “Wow. Not gonna even acknowledge my big brain word?”

  “Would you like a round of applause, Harrington, for correctly using the word enlighten?” 

  He grins, he nods, his fingers snatch a piece of the licorice up, “Yeah. Yeah I would.”

  You catch the end of the candy, shaking your head with a scoff. “She called you big boy.”

  Robin, whom you don’t want to admit you’d forgotten was even behind the counter with you, sighs, loudly.

  “Wow. Thanks. I had just forgotten.”

  Steve tugs on the candy between the two of you with raised eyebrows and a look of annoyance. “And?”

  You tug harder, and Steve dares to take another step closer with it, knuckles brushing yours that lay limply next to thighs almost touching. 

  “And, that means you didn’t do a thing except let rumors of what’s underneath your too tight Levi’s spread like the rash you’ve probably given to half this town.”

  Another tug of the candy, though gentler this time, pulls you closer, plastic crinkling against your abdomen as he proudly whispers, “Not rumors, babe.”

  “Call me babe,” you practically growl, “One more time. See what happens.”

  “Okay,” Steve tilts his chin in a challenge, fingers twitching on the candy, “Ba-“

  The red licorice disappears with a flash of silver metal, snapped between white teeth before it’s waved around dramatically.

  “While this is super fun to watch. She’s not wrong Stevie.” Eddie shrugs. 

  Steve takes a step back, red Nike swoosh flashing as he kicks at thread bare carpet. “Sure. She’s never wrong.”

  You have to physically stop yourself from sticking your tongue out at him. 

  Eddie hoists himself up onto the counter, chain tapping and clanking against things as he gets down just as quickly he sits when you snap your fingers and point to the ground. 

  He raises his hands in surrender at you, then waves at Steve with a squint of big, brown eyes. 

  “You’re not back. You barely had to put in any work with that cutie. She was making heart eyes at you from the parking lot, man.”

  Steve holds his arms out at his sides, like he’s innocent. “Just because girl’s know I have a sizeable-“

  “Ew,” you snap another bite of candy. 

  “Appendage-” Steve continues, ignoring you. 

  “You’re sick,” Robin delivers in a monotone from her stack sorting. 

  “And they know I know what I’m doing with it,” Steve talks over Robin in their well-oiled banter, “Doesn’t mean I don’t have to work hard.” Steve dares to place his fingers over his chest and continue with pride dripping from each word, like he truly believes and is proud to say, “I still have to put in the work to look good, to flirt and think on my feet. I have to pull out the Harrington charm. It’s not my fault I have more than other guys to work with.”

  Eddie ponders what Steve is saying thoughtfully, he places his hands behind his back and paces, nodding his head carefully. 

  “Maybe so,” Eddie sighs dramatically, gesturing with a bow to Steve, “We cannot all be gifted with such well-endowment.”

  “I truly hate it here,” Robin says to the ceiling while Steve beams. 

  You tilt your head at Eddie, trying to figure out where he’s going before he gets there. 

  He slaps his hands on the counter, metal clanking against glass displaying candy as he proclaims, “I propose a challenge.”

  Steve snorts, crossing his arms and leaning against the counter next to you, his elbow nudging yours. “What, like a duel?”

  Your eyes roll as you dig your elbow into his, pushing him away. 

  “Intriguing, but maybe another time. I’m fresh out of jousting materials I’m afraid,” Eddie grins. “No, I think, to really know if you’re back, to prove this,” he waves his hands at the entirety of Steve, “All takes real work and you’re not just coasting on what the good lord gave you, you’d need to use it on someone who’s unsuspecting. Someone,” Eddie purses his lips, “Who isn’t already swooning over the mere thought of you.”

  Robin spins, blue eyes alight with intrigue. “Hold on. I’m listening.”

  Steve tilts his head, “You want me to get the number of a girl who hates me?”

  Robin grins like it’s the best things she’s ever heard, but Eddie shakes his head, tugging on a curl. “No. Too easy. I think you need to sleep with her.”

  Your mouth drops open in disbelief and Robin whistles low and slow. 

  Eddie pretends to hold up a scroll, reading from air in a theatric voice, “I, Eddie Munson, declare that Steve Harrington cannot get the next girl to walk through this door of thy Family Video to have sex with him. The rules shall be that Harrington may only pursue said girl after careful consideration of her un-swoonability by yours truly, and will have one week to prove his charming capabilities. The stakes? One hundred dollars. Does Steve Harrington accept such a bet?”

  You scoff, “You’re both not actually making a bet on-“

  Steve’s hand slaps into Eddie’s, both boys smirking as they shake on it. Steve waves his other hand in the air, all nonchalant while confidence oozes out of him. “Next girl that walks through that door, I’m going to fuck. Easy.”

  “Unbelievable, You’re both unbelievable.” Your words are lost on deaf, egotistical ears.

  Eddie nods, he grins with shoulders raised at Steve. “Right. Since you’re back, easy peasy.”

  “Her ass and tits will be squeez-ied.” 

  Robin boos, cupping a hand around her mouth. 

  You gesture to her, “That? That’s what you finally have a problem with?”

  Robin shrugs, grinning, “I’m off the clock in one minute. Then he’s your problem.” She looks at Eddie, “Still able to give me a ride home?”

  Eddie nods, “I am but only the ladies driver,” he turns to you with a snap, “Speaking of, think you left your vest in my van, doll.”

  “Oh shit, thanks,” you bounce around the counter as Robin heads into the back. The door chimes as you squint into the late afternoon summer sun, sneakers kicking pebbles on the way to Eddie’s van, when it hits you. Suddenly. Wonderfully. Beautifully. 

  Your vest is sitting on the counter next to your red vines. 

  You spin, gravel crunching beneath your heels as you look at the front of the store.  

  Heavy steps thud against the ground as you race towards it, meeting a frantic Steve at the set of glass double doors.

  He grips the handles, wild eyes and shaking his head no, as he holds them closed and you tug to open them, grinning. 

  Eddie bows behind Steve as Robin cackles. 

  “What’s the matter Harrington,” you call through the doors, enjoying the way his jaw pulses, “Why can’t I come inside? Enlighten me.”

  Steve’s gaze traces your face, it lingers on your smile before it meets your eyes. 

  A challenge in both sets of glares, neither of you willing to back down. 

  He let’s his hands fall from the handles and rest on his hips as the chime trills overhead with your step inside. 

  You bat your eyelashes, you press the back of your hand to your forehead and pretend to faint against the glass. 

  “Good luck, big boy.” 

Tag List - thanks for your endless patience and excitement for this, but please let me know if you'd no longer like to be tagged:

@ash5monster01 @madaboutjoe @foreverinwanderlust @the-fairy-anon @scarletwitchgf

@curlsincriminology @siriuslysmoking @redbarn1995 @starry--sarah @starksbabie

@taccobelle @angst-lasagna @blckburd @crownofdecit

#superbly subpar's writing #BICFTF #steve harrington #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington series #steve harrington fic

[hisunshiine]

—immortal lust |myg|

🧛🏻 pairing: vampire!yoongi x vampire hunter!reader  🧛🏻 au/genre: vampire au, e2l, angst, smut  🧛🏻 rating: M  🧛🏻 wc: 8,783 🧛🏻 warnings: mentions of parent death (off-screen). creepy themes associated with graveyards, vampires, and vampire hunting. explicit smut: fingering, unprotected vaginal sex, voyeurism, exhibitionism, implied bdsm, implied orgy, biting, blood drinking (vamps, duh!), use of blood for lubrication (again, vamps!) 🧛🏻 an: thank you to my beta readers @downbad4yoongi and @lo1k-diamonds and @mrsparkjimin18. I know this ws rough at first, but I think it became a very enjoyable piece of literature in the end. @colormepurplex2, thank you for the prompt to write, and congrats on earning the most points for the network in the semi-annual tally! You earned it! 🧛🏻 summary: In the shadows of a world where the supernatural breathes just beneath the surface of the mundane, you are a skilled vampire slayer from a revered family harboring a secret desire that contradicts your very existence. 

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This story is written for @colormepurplex2 as her gift for being the top leading point earner for our network, @bangtanwritershq and for our Quarter 2 event: Seven Deadly Sins

ᥫ᭡ AU Type: Lust — Vampire AU ᥫ᭡ Themes: Enemies 2 Lovers & Forbidden Desires ᥫ᭡ Inclusions: Bargains & Contracts, Confessions and Secrets, Explicit Sexual Content, Blood & Violence 

24 Years Ago

“Why are you crying, Uncle Sol?” Eight-year-old you stands in the darkened doorway of the study, bleary eyes struggling to take in the scene in front of you.

Soleil Belmont sits in the overly stuffed, brown leather armchair in front of the fireplace. Your uncle by choice, thanks to the life-long friendship between him and your mother, Valkyrie Blake, is how he came to be in your life. The hands that cover his damp eyes wipe furiously at his cheeks, as if to hide the evidence of his tears from your sight. You didn’t even notice how he looked—the mud caked on his boots, the tattered look of his shirt under his leather jacket, the small cut by his hairline or the bruises starting to appear along his face. 

“Come here, sweetie,” he asks, voice breaking as you walk in your thin nightgown across the wood floors, feet making quiet sounds with every step you take closer to him. Once within his reach, he places a clammy hand on your shoulder.  

“There’s been an accident.”

The funeral itself was one of the worst days of your life, watching the twin caskets of your parents lower into the rectangular cutouts in the  earth. The gleaming black lacquered wood was polished to perfection, only to be marred by the small handful of dirt you’d thrown before begging to be taken away from the graveyard, away from the scent of death and decay. 

That day is when you decide you never want to experience death. You never want to be so badly injured in a car accident that your family has to have a closed casket. That you’d never see your child grow up, and leave her abandoned in this world. You hate that death is the inevitable end to life, and that fear leads you down the path you’re on now.

You - Present Day

The dream begins much like all of the other ones you’ve had as of late. You’re in an old cemetery—gothic gravestones coated in thick moss with flora obscuring the names and dates of the not-so-recently deceased. Large tombs with crumbling marble and ivy-covered wrought-iron fences, the overgrown oaks with Spanish moss reaching eerily towards your figure in the shadows from the waxing crescent moon. The dirt beneath your feet feels malleable as you step quietly past the final resting places of all of the former slayers. You’ve traversed these grounds before, more than several times in your adult life, as you’ve learned about your family, the work that they did—that you are supposed to continue—and can name all of the family lines that take their final rest here. 

An eerie fog begins to rise from the ground, permeating the air until it covers your boots and ankles, weaving its way along the marble and stone placards, hiding the Lord’s Prayer epitaphs and angelic motifs from sight. A shiver raises the hair along your arms and the back of your neck and you sense him. He’s here, watching you with his luminous eyes and heightened, immortal beauty. You know he can hear the way your heart thrums in your chest, can smell the prickles of adrenaline that drip from the sweat at your hairline, and possibly the arousal as it seeps through your panties.

You attempt to refocus your thoughts away from the nervous energy, standing still.  You wonder if he believes that you are doing this so as to not trip or step on dead wood littering the ground to make too much sound. You know it wouldn’t matter. Quiet as a mouse or trampling like an elephant would make no difference to this being. He is well over three centuries old, exact years he has been alive though are not documented anywhere. No one has lived after a close encounter with him to document his life pre-turning, according to the various journals and tomes housed in the slayer library. 

All you know for certain is that the earliest records of the vampire known only as ‘Yoongi’ appear in the late 17th century, identify his maker as ‘Namjoon’, and his three known fledglings as ‘Heizi’, ‘Taehyung’, and ‘Hoseok’. Only one of his creations is dead—the one who killed your parents. A loud crack of lightning whips your head to the left, the flash revealing the amber backlit eyes embedded in the dark silhouette of the famed vampire crouched on the edge of the cremation tomb several yards away. Your amygdala reacts, heart rate spiking as he moves faster than you can capture—one second he’s atop the Van Helsing columbarium, the next he’s standing in front of you, strong hands clamped to your arms holding you tight, keeping you from moving. Your small but deadly sharp stake is rendered useless by your side.

There’s no time to scream, no time to do anything but hear the rush of blood through your veins as his mouth grows from a smirk to a downright smile, fangs glowing from the reflection of moonlight.

“You made it too easy, kitten,” he purrs, bringing his face closer to yours before dipping his face into your neck. He takes a deep breath, inhaling your scent as he scrapes the tips of his pointed teeth across the sensitive skin of your neck. “And to think you were able to kill Heize. I must do better at training my progeny. Oh well, another slayer to add to the crypt. You didn’t even last two minutes.”

Squirming in his grip, you try to disengage his clenched fists from your arms as his mouth descends to your thrumming artery. You wake with a gasp, hands flying to your neck to check for puncture wounds. 

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Down in the gym at the bottom floor of your house—if you can call it that—you push your muscles to their extent, fists flying into the punching bag. You whip around, grabbing the thin bladed stake from the side pocket of your athletic leggings and plunge it into the second bag made for staking. 

With a deep breath, you step onto the bag to pull your weapon loose, watching small bits of fluff flutter to the mat beneath you. Wiping the sweat from your brow, you check the time on the clock, noting it’s near lunchtime. Sheathing your weapon, you head up the staircase to sunlight. 

On the ground floor, your eyes easily slide past the neoclassical designs along the hallway, high ceilings with blank walls, and columns lining the open floor plan with large arched floor-to-ceiling windows. The protein shake you prepared earlier sits on the top shelf in the fridge, and you grab it along with the jelly to make yourself a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. You’ve just finished when Soleil Belmont walks into the kitchen, a gentle squeeze to your shoulder as he bypasses you to the fridge.

“Can we talk?” he asks you, but you don’t want to argue with him, not when tonight could be the last time you ever talk to him. 

“Sol, I have to do this. You can’t change my mind about this. He sired the vampire that killed my mom and dad. He’s killed countless people for sport, leaving behind orphaned children like me.” You hope the finality in your tone will keep him from prying or asking more questions. 

It works.

“I love you. And I won’t try to change your mind. You’re much like your mother, stubborn to the very end.” Your mother’s best friend and your legal guardian until you turned 18 joins you at the table with a bowl of grapes, a look of acceptance in his eyes. “You know, if anything happens to you, I’m selling this house. It’s much too big for me and I’m getting older.”

Your eyes gaze across his features: the greying hair at the edges of his hairline, crow’s feet meeting the creases of his eyes, the weariness in the undereye circles and fine lines. He’s nearing 60, an age you don’t think you’ll live to see. An age your parents never got to be. At 32, you live on your family estate alone, with Soleil in the pool house you had renovated years ago as a Mother-in-Law suite once you turned 21 and gained your inheritance—and learned the truth about your parents’ death. 

Just as much as you probably could have lived without ever knowing the truth of your parents’ lives, and their demise, you didn’t need all the space he was trying to give you, but he wanted to allow you the chance to be an adult, have a social life and you assume a sex life without having to hear it. You appreciated it in the moments you brought men back from the bar or campus library, but other times, it was just…lonely. 

As a Belmont, Soleil knew about vampires. His family is well known across Europe for their work in Romania slaying creatures of the night, and Soleil’s great-grandparents moved here in the early 1800’s to spread their knowledge to others to continue hunting as the new world grew and vampires spread to the new continent. This is how your families came to be friends and fight alongside each other. Until Heize killed three of the four hunters tasked with taking her out, leaving you and Sol as the only survivors of the Belmont’s and the Blake’s. 

“I think you should. I only keep it because it has everything I need to train. I could practice in peace without worrying about people judging me for all of my weapons. Most people think it’s a little weird to have wooden stakes and crossbows when working out.”

Sol chuckles, making a joke about how between the gym being littered with staked bags and the UV lights that line the entire property at night, people would be confused when purchasing, but then the light leeches out of his eyes as he looks you over.

“Remember to keep your wits about you, okay? I never wanted kids because I knew that hunters' lives never end happily, and when I lost…we lost your parents and my fiancee, I wouldn’t have had a reason to keep living if it weren’t for you.”

You decide now is best to give him the ticket and the envelope.

“Sol, I think…I think it’s best for you to go away on a trip. I think I’ll be able to focus better knowing you are out of harm’s way if you leave.” You slide the ticket across the table towards him, the envelope underneath it. “It’s a one-way ticket to Paris and enough money to be comfortable for as long as you want.”

“You don’t think you’ll survive this, do you?” Sol asks, eyes searching yours for clues, but you remain steadfast.

“Don’t worry about me, Sol,” you say and he makes to interrupt you, but you don’t let him, dealing the killing blow. “I’m not your daughter, so you don’t have to stick around anymore. Go live your life. I want you to go and live your life.”

The hurt in Sol’s eyes is visible, but your plan works. His hand reaches out to grasp the ticket, leaving the envelope of money where it’s at. 

“I don’t need Blake money; the Belmont’s have enough of their own.” He takes a moment to pause, eyes locking back all emotions as he stands. “I’ll pack and leave town. Don’t be distracted.”

Soleil walks to the hallway, turning back just once. “Goodbye.”

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The past 11 years seem to be coming to a head. You’ve spent all of your time after graduating from college training for today. Ever since you learned the truth of how your parents and Sol’s fiancee died, you’ve been plotting for this moment. 

As a member of the famed Blake family, vampire hunting is in your blood. As a child, you obsessed over vampires because of the ability to avoid dying, and as an adult, that obsession helped you with your training. You knew more about vampires than one would expect having been brought into the fold so late, but you put your head down and studied more, learning all you could from previous journals and occult texts to gain insight into the vampires with ties to the one called Min Yoongi. 

Several years ago you went out to avenge your parents, trapping Heize in a classic bait-and-switch. You didn’t think it would be so easy since she was estimated to be around 200 years, but she fell for it simply because Soleil was the only one she didn’t kill, and in her blood haze, she underestimated you. A simple ‘accidental’ dropping of a message from Sol that said where to meet, coupled with thoughts that you and Sol made sure to keep in your head to continue the ruse allowed Heize to willingly walk into the decrepit mausoleum that was booby-trapped with the thinnest of steel wiring criss-crossing the doorway several yards inside with you and Sol on the other side. 

In her haste to grab Soleil, she blurred—her speed too fast to stop her from splicing herself into pieces and effectively decapitating herself was a pleasure to watch. Grabbing the blow torches stashed in the room, her body quickly lit up with flames licking the marble walls as you made your exit. 

It’s been over 5 years since then, and every second since has been spent planning for tonight. 

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Laying in the coffin in his home, Yoongi awaits dusk. His body is antsy for the moment the sun is below the horizon; even in his slumber, he knows that you are out there waiting. For him. He’s followed your movements since the death of his fledgling, Heize, watching to see how this novice of a hunter could have overpowered one of his chosen flock. Imagine his surprise when it turns out that it was you—the last remaining survivor of the Blake family who knew nothing of vampires true existence until you were an adult. 

But over time, he realized as novice as you were, you were skilled. Your lithe movements and ability to track his kind was a novel experience for him to observe. You took down creatures of the night in preparation for what you expressed to your guardian as training for taking out him. Yoongi laughs to himself. 

He admits you’re smart, the plan you laid out is a good one, but you forgot to block your mind from thoughts of the plan several times, which allowed Yoongi to plan his counterattack. In the light of the midday sun, even from outside of his home, he sensed you as you approached and left a note. He could hear your heartbeat, hear the rustle of the paper as you placed it through the mail slot of the front door.

His eyes shot open the moment the sun fell below the horizon. Yoongi hated that he was not yet able to avoid the forced slumber that overtook his kind when the sun rose, nor that he was not averse yet to the fatigue that set in beforehand, warning him of the lack of time remaining to the night. Elder vampires, of which he’s only met two who had lived over a thousand years, were almost immortal. The ability to walk in the sun and thus are not affected by the need to sleep when it rises. Yoongi envies them, but he plans to join them one day. 

He flits to the main hallway, hand reaching for the note and taking in your handwriting in seconds. 

I know what you are. I want to be one of you. Please meet me tonight and turn me, or I will tell everyone vampires exist. 

An address is scrawled at the bottom of the note, but he doesn’t need it. He can follow the heady scent of you to wherever you are. Even in sleep, he sensed when you drew near and his subconscious couldn’t help reading the thoughts that lay in your mind. You truly thought this ruse would work? Hell, it would’ve worked on Heize, or his other fledglings, had they not known who you were. There is fear to be had with mortals knowing of their existence; vulnerability lay in the moments that the sun is out, and a house fire could destroy a whole flock in minutes if their kind is not careful. Yoongi cursed their inability to wake while the sun was out, and now that he knows you know where he resides, he must find a new place to live out his days. 

A glance at the old grandfather clock in the hallway shows him that the sun is now well and truly gone, allowing him to slip through the entrance of the home and out onto the sidewalk. He takes a deep breath, searching for your scent through the others that encompass the air around him; the grass along the road, the burnt rubber of tires in traffic, the lingering warmth of the sun before its descent, and then the faint smell of jasmine flowers after a fresh rainfall. You. 

Blurring into motion, Yoongi travels several miles towards the city, slowing once other scents begin to emerge. Thin crust pizzas covered in meat and cheese, overflowing trash and body odor, and a desperation that covers the city’s nightlife with a humming buzz. The fading jasmine keeps him moving, though now at a human pace as he approaches what appears to be a dance studio. The sign above the door confirms as much, and he’s not surprised that the glass door is unlocked despite the red and white closed sign hanging at eye-level for passersby. 

The floral scent grows tenfold, as if Yoongi has stepped into what he assumes your bedroom would smell like. There is a strange undercurrent that he isn’t used to associating with you, but he assumes it’s just lingering from the studio. As he walks past the lobby area, the shadows of the fake potted plants and the empty chairs intrigue him. Why you chose this place is beyond his comprehension, as a dance studio such as this one, owned by the Blake family—your family—for years, is in the middle of the city and one of the few places not related to the hidden career path of hunting. Unless you count using dance as a way to build agility for fighting those who cannot die, well at least not die easily. 

Yoongi’s cockiness as he meanders closer to the hallway towards the various dance rooms leaves him caught off guard when the sound of whirring behind him causes him to move unnaturally before going eerily still. The slightest misstep is only noticed by Yoongi, whose barely beating heart seems to pick up minutely—not that anyone living or dead would be able to tell. He chuckles at your meager attempt to lock him in; a motorized grate lowering across the lobby door and windows. 

His strength could easily rip the grate off of its frame, but this little game you’re playing is just too good to walk away from without seeing what you’ve planned with his own eyes. It only pops into his thoughts once he’s walked through the back studio where your scent is the strongest, that the grate lowering was not part of the plans his Mind Gift overheard from you. 

So it’s only to his own surprise when the undercurrent rises to an overwhelming level and he realizes what his hubris blocked out. The mirrored room before him is splashed floor to ceiling with blood. 

You - Present Day

With the scent of your blood so overwhelming to the centuries-old vampire, you watch from the corner of the room as he drifts towards the mirrors and closer to where you need him to be. Your fingertips itch on the small switchboard you hold, ready for your plan to unfold. He looks almost dazed, eyes unfocused as his fangs poke his bottom lip. He looks so different, from the way the journals make him out to be, in person he’s much more attractive, and you have to really focus to make sure you don’t miss your mark. 

When Yoongi enters the area you’ve marked off with tape, you release your hold on the button that allows two things to happen simultaneously: a set of low UV flashbang grenades are set off, the mirrored walls reflecting the blinding light with a cacophony of sounds to drown out any thoughts he might try to detect, and a 4x4 cage made of the thinnest wire springs into place trapping him within its confines. 

You watch him through your military-grade glasses, the lenses preventing the bright lights from disorienting you as his brilliant eyes shut against the danger they sense. He is a few centuries old, and you know that despite the direct hit of the UV light, which only lasts for a split second, the slight damage dealt to his skin heals seconds later. 

But your aim wasn’t to kill him. He laughs, a loud bellyful that sounds almost joyous until you flip the second switch, which sets the alkali metal aflame. His laugh is silenced almost immediately, a growl rumbling lowly in his throat. 

“What game are you playing at, little mortal?” His voice carries an edge, and you shiver with delight. You’re sure that it’s never been this easy to capture a vampire that is several centuries old, but sometimes the best laid plans are the most simple. You step forward from the corner you were in, no longer hidden as the flames light the room and you pull off the tinted lenses.

“I’m not playing any games at all.”

He glares at you, the slits of his eyes glowing an intense amber shade—an enhancement to what you predict were originally beautiful brown eyes—and you bravely take a step closer. 

“Then what, praytell, would you call this,” his hand waves gingerly towards the room around him, “smoke and mirrors set up you have me in?”

“I…I want to experience being bitten.”

This time, the vampire does laugh fully, his head thrown back exposing his fangs and the long lines of his neck from his sharp jaw. His milky white collar bones are barely exposed in his black, button-down, long-sleeved shirt.

“No hunter,” he spits the word as if spitting a foul taste from his mouth, “would willingly subject themselves to a bite, to risk becoming that which they hunt.” 

“I would.” Your answer rings with sincerity, at least to your own ears, and you hope that the vampire can see the longing in your eyes.

“What reason would I have to give in to this request? The promise that you’ll let me out of here before daylight comes to burn me into ash? That you’ll let me out of this fire prison you’ve created? Do I look like a fool, mortal?”

“I think you’re desperate enough to make sure tonight is not your last night on Earth, and you should know that you hold all of the cards.” You take a deep breath before sharing your deepest secret with the immortal being before you, your voice rushing with a frenzied speed. “I only learned of your existence once I was an adult. Before that, I prayed to whatever gods would listen to find a way to avoid the inevitable—to escape death. You know I grew up without parents, right?” 

Yoongi only stared at you, glowing embers following your every move.

“Of course you know. I killed your progeny for their murder once I knew the truth.”

He hissed at you then, fangs extended fully as his eyes deepened with rage. He looked as if he had half a mind to grip the flame-laden cage and come after you, but held back—barely. You wait, quietly assessing him as he reins in his anger, chest no longer rising and falling in unbidden anger.

“That was a death that I deserved, and your anger will not sway how I feel about it. But it also doesn’t change what I am requesting of you. I want you to bite me.”

Min Yoongi - Present Day

Min Yoongi doesn’t believe the predicament he’s currently in. A fool! He curses himself. A damned fool to walk right into the trap you laid out for him.

The flames entrapping his body are low, but still, the heat has him on edge. His search of your mind as you speak shows no pretense, but he remembers how easily you fooled him with your thoughts just earlier today. The scent of your blood sang to him, luring him deeper into the dance studio until his mind couldn’t handle the amount; it overwhelmed him just long enough for you to pounce. 

Now that the flames have had time to thrive, the smell of burning metal drowns out the worst of your scent, and he asks you questions to buy himself time to think. But he can’t understand you fully. Your actions and words do not align with what he knows of hunters, of what he knows of you from afar. To hear you earnestly wish for him to bite you, despite knowing how hard you trained to kill his fledgling, contradicts everything he thinks he knows about the prominent hunting families. 

And still, your request piques his interest. The calmness of your body belies no deceit, no racing heart or skittered words as you barter with him as if discussing what to have for breakfast with a partner. And he’s studied your body, unbeknownst to you. He’s watched as you brought home men to fuck, heard the way your body reacted to their attempts at pleasure, the way your nervous system changed when you lied about seeing them again. Has smelled your jasmine scent and can’t lie that he’s wanted a taste…if only to then rip your pretty throat out.

He realizes in that moment that you do not know fully and truly what it is you are asking for. There are mysteries yet hidden from the mortal world about vampires, about their bite and the effect it has on the living when not immediately drained. 

Yoongi grins, finally deciding to answer your request after long moments of thought. 

“I accept your demands, hunter. I shall bite you in exchange for sparing my life.”  

You - Present Day

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you walk away from his gaze to shut the door to the dance studio. You take a few deep breaths before turning around to walk back towards the switchboard, where you activate another switch. 

A low hum reminiscent of fluorescent lights quietly fills the quiet of the room, to which Yoongi questions. 

“Another precaution?”

You glance at him over your shoulder with a smirk.

“Just my way of making sure that you stick to your end of the bargain. Should you harm me against my will, I have a way to activate those lights lining the room, which are high-powered UV lights, and not just the ones that last for a second.” You look back at the switchboard, finger searching for the one to shut off the fire and disengage the cage. “The only way out of here safely is with my blessing.”

“Afraid of me, hunter?” His query has you pause your movements.

“Afraid of you? No. You’re my best bet at getting what I want.”

Facing the vampire, you maintain eye contact as you grip the hemline of your shirt, pulling it up and over your head in as fluid a motion as you can to leave you in just a simple underwire t-shirt bra and your denim jeans—you assume his bite will still be messy, and walking out of here covered in blood seems like a sure way to attract police attention. Again, you see Yoongi take on that supernatural stillness that only creatures of the night can achieve. His eyes are like focused lasers on your body, and you feel a thrill as you reach behind you to release him. 

With unnatural speed, he blurs into your space, forcing you back towards the wall—a cold hand on your exposed hip and the other leaving a dent as it braces against the wall by your ear. 

“Any of my kind could’ve given you what you wanted. It need not be me,” he murmurs as his nose trails along your jawline seductively. But in the next moment, his fingers tighten into your skin as he growls. “So why strip and offer yourself to me?” 

You squirm in his grip, a sense of deja vu taking over as you remember the dream you had a couple of nights ago. “Because,” you gasp out, “you’re the oldest vampire I know in existence. Newer vampires have no control, killing almost immediately.” You arch in an attempt to create space off of the wall—you hate the way you feel trapped. You question whether you should have trusted your instincts about Yoongi. 

“Flattery will get you nowhere. Why would a hunter want to be bitten?” His hand leaves the wall to grab your chin. A chill sweeps down your body from the points of contact, sending goosebumps along your exposed skin. His eyes flash a luminous amber. “Tell the truth.”

Your mind feels hazy from his command, almost as if you’ve stepped outside of yourself to watch your mouth open. “I’ve always been fascinated by vampires,” your voice sounds dreamy, a wistful look upon your face, “ever since my parents died. I want to escape that fate, I want to master death.”

A low hum from Yoongi helps break the spell as his eyes ever so carefully appear to peel back the layers until he sees through to the real you. The little girl who cried at her parents funeral and vowed never to meet her maker. You sense when he makes his decision, his eyes growing lighter and his hand tilts your head to the side.

“There is much you do not know, and you know not truly what you ask for.” He inhales a breath he doesn’t need, and his voice changes, a different tone taking over. “But your body reacts—it longs for this, does it not?” he teases. “I can smell your lust, your desire.” He presses his body to yours, firm planes and muscle meeting your softer curves. You feel the closeness of his lips as they graze across yours.

A small whimper escapes your mouth. “Please,” you softly beg so your lips caress.

Yoongi’s tongue slips between your teeth in a kiss of seduction. There is no rush to his movements, only a controlled, steady pace as he meets your tongue with his. You feel his teeth prick your lip as his hand moves to cup the back of your neck, pulling you closer. There’s no sound, except for the hum of the device and your heavy breathing. Yoongi doesn’t need to breathe. 

You gasp for air when he trails featherlight kisses along your carotid artery, his hand sliding along your side and over your covered chest and onto your shoulder. Once there, he pushes your bra strap down and removes the fabric covering your breast, freeing it from the holster. His thumb circles the peak of your breast, taught from the friction. He must be enjoying the way he’s building the tension in your body, and you wonder if humans taste better to vampires when they’re aroused. 

You don’t get a chance to ask. The insertion of his fangs into your neck is nothing like your dreams. The prickle of pain as they lance open your skin fades almost instantly when you feel the first pull of your blood through your veins and into his mouth. 

You gasp, astonished as the euphoric feeling settles over you like a warm blanket and Yoongi’s arms wrap around you as he drinks from you in deep swallows. He’s taken in a few mouthfuls before he pulls away with a shudder that shakes his whole being. 

“Divine,” he whispers, blood trailing along the sides of his chin as his hands move to fully free you of your bra, then trail along your curves. The contact is exquisite, the coolness of his hands doing wonders for the flames licking underneath your skin. 

“More, touch me more, please,” you sigh, wanting nothing more than the creature who holds you in his arms. The feeling of him seems to burrow under your skin to the very depths of your soul as if he’s leaving a permanent stamp embedded. 

His deft fingers cup your breast, causing you to moan with barely any movement. “Not enough!” you whine, uncaring at your petulance. Yoongi chuckles at you. 

“Where do you want me to touch you, kitten? How do you want me to touch you? Under your jeans? Gentle or rough? Perhaps you want much more than that?”

You blink coquettishly, nodding yes and begging him to take more of your blood from you. Your hands reach for him, fingertips pulling at the edge of his clothes as if to free him of them. You’re rewarded with his alabaster skin, the light dusting of hair below his navel leading into the very pants your fingers fiddle with the button on. 

His tongue laps at your heaving chest, and you watch as he cleans away the blood that ran from the bite he left. His fingers tug at your nipples, and you give up tugging at his pants as the sensation causes your head to fall back in a breathy whine. Your fingers have worked efficiently enough though—his pants fall to the floor and he kicks them aside to join the growing pile of clothes, and you add your jeans next in haste. 

Another mewling sound leaves you when his tongue toys with your pert nipple, fangs scraping along the soft contours of your breast as he chases the last of your blood. When you feel your back hit a mirrored wall behind you, you welcome the cooling feel of the glass, though unsure of when you moved. Yoongi’s leg pries apart your thighs, hand dropping to the heat between as he presses against your still-clothed core in search of your clit. When his fingers push your panties aside and he begins to rub slippery circles against you, he chuckles lowly. 

“How wet you are, indeed, pet. Yes, I think you want much more than just my bite.”

In your own mind, you agree with his words. You want so much more than just his bite because you want all of him—his bite, his touch, his cock filling you over and over as you crest in shuddering waves of insurmountable pleasure—for all of eternity. His lips drag along your neck as he speaks, leaving small kisses between his sentences. His fingers dance along your slick opening, teasing but never broaching. Not in the ways you want him to fill you. 

He hikes up one of your legs so that it rests on his forearm, opening you up to him and at the same time that he plunges his fingers into you, he returns his mouth to your skin, placing a bite in the swell of your breast and drinking deeply. Your body thrums, blood pulsing slower to be in sync with Yoongi’s at every swallow of your life force. 

You’ve never felt this way—no one has ever finger fucked you like this, and through the roaring of your blood in your veins, you distantly hear your own voice begging him for more. The heel of his hand makes contact with your clit, and you keen when he holds the position, fingers deep inside you to rub against the spongy patch of nerves as his wrist makes circular movements to stimulate your clit. Your hands work at the buttons along his shirt, pulling with haste and faintly recognizing the ping of the buttons as they ricochet free. Shoving the cloth off his shoulders, you’re exposed to delicate collarbones, a lean torso with blush nipples and a toned chest that tapers into a narrow waist. A small smattering of unruly black hair leads a path down the center into the briefs low on his hips.

You see starbursts behind your eyes as you cum, hard, walls fluttering rapidly around his long fingers. The air in the room is thick with need, desire running so deeply in your veins that you feel lightheaded. All you want is more, more, more. It’s not enough that he bit you, not enough that he brought you to ecstasy with just his fingers. You crave everything he has to give you. As if not of your own volition, you rock against the fingers still inside you, hands reaching to pull Yoongi’s face back towards yours. 

Fingers twine with the hair at the nape of his neck, and with reckless abandon, you kiss him hard. The metallic taste of your blood mixes with a taste all his own and you relish the way the two mix into a delightful cocktail on your tongue. His fingers thrust shallowly into you as he slowly makes to remove them from your body. Your hips cant towards him, chasing the feeling until he drops your leg from his arm and you’re left empty and wanting. 

The hollowness he’s left you with makes you want to cry, but when you try to pull away from the kiss and complain, he chuckles against your lips. “Hush, kitten, we’re just getting started.”

It seems like an eternity that he’s abandoned your pleasure, but with his supernatural strength, it takes mere seconds for his hands to rip your panties from your body, rid himself of his remaining clothes, bend his knees for access to hook his elbows around the backs of your knees, and lift you up. Your back slams into the glass mirror, and you feel the way it shatters around your body, but you feel no pain. Not when the new position has your core exposed to him and his velvet, steel cock is positioned at your entrance, teasing you with what’s to come. 

The view of him between your thighs is amazing. Your eyes trail down his body, showing no shame as you rest them upon his cock, a blushing hue color fueled from your blood now pumping in his body. It’s erect, his lust for you is apparent as he flexes his hips. The tip sinks inside you with help from your first orgasm lubricating his entry, but he doesn’t let it get far before pulling back. He edges you with languid pumps, and you watch in anguish each time he retreats from your warmth. His cock glistens farther up each time he dips inside of you, and the unhinged, sex-craved and cock thirsty being inside you wants him covered in you, the smell of sex so overwhelming that people on the street can smell it. 

“Oh, yes, kitten, everyone will know all of the depraved and debaucherous things I’m going to do to you.” He thrusts in with one fluid movement, and you swear you feel him in your chest. The fullness his girth offers splits you open like you’ve never experienced before, while his length reaches deep inside you. 

A glance at Yoongi's face as he takes in your naked body proves that he too feels the snug way he fits inside of you, and is also expecting to see the bulge from the tip of his glorious cock pressing against your skin. A flash of disappointment when it doesn’t happen flits across his face, and you realize he was not joking about the depraved things he wants to do to you. 

A press of his palm to your lower abdomen has your mouth open in silent pleasure as his hips swirl delectably; the pressure provides the perfect grind of his flexing muscle against every part of you that squeezes him, and the sound as he slips through you just to thrust in again only makes your lust rage more. It’s sinful, everything about the way he’s fucking you roughly is. 

Gasping out sensual curses mixed with your name, Yoongi’s eyes flash an intense color, and as if reading your deepest thoughts, he pulls out of you and shifts away from the pane of shattered glass to one still intact. He flips you so that your breasts press to the mirrors. His fingers dig into your hips as he pulls them backward, his feet nudging your own apart. You brace yourself with your hands on the glass, breath leaving a hazy fog with each shuddering exhale of air as you find reprieve from the fire beneath your skin with a pressed cheek to the reflective wall. 

“Fuck…me…” you moan out the curse when he seats himself fully inside of you, his pelvis pressed tightly against your ass cheeks as he lets out a low, throaty growl. 

“I thought I was,” he replies smartly, but the shake to his voice shows how much restraint he’s showing. You press your ass into him as much as you can, rising onto your toes for leverage. Your eyes stare at his reflection behind you, watching as he curls his body around yours to lick at your earlobe. “I had plans of killing you, dreamt of the way I would torture you before I snapped this pretty little neck of yours, did you know?”

You didn’t know for certain, but you feel like all creatures of the night have the goal of killing humans one way or another, so it doesn’t really bother you. In fact, his words make you clench around him, because the way he’s worded it seems like these are no longer his plans. He confirms as much as his hips rock back and forth in a teasing rhythm that barely sates your needs for him. 

“I’ve decided that this pussy is just too good to go to waste, kitten.” His head drops into the crux of your neck, breathing deeply. “Your sweet blood calls to me, and will taste even more decadent when you cum around my cock,” his tongue swipes over your skin before his fangs burrow into you with such an all-consuming lust, you nearly sob with how good it feels. His hips begin a punishing pace as he wraps his arms around you, one hand going to hold your right breast as the other hand drops between your thighs. 

The pads of his first two fingertips slip around his thrusting cock, stimulating your weeping core before moving back up to strum along your clit, matching pace with each press inside of you. “You will make such a lovely creature, don’t you think? Cum for me, kitten, and I will make sure of it.” His words trigger a deep need inside you, words that soothe an ache you’ve carried since you were a child. 

Your orgasm bursts from you in an earth-shattering explosion, so heady and rippling that you fear you will black out from the strength of it. You barely feel when his teeth sink into you again. He takes a deep pull from your artery, and your high gives him exactly what you think he was searching for. It’s almost shameful the way he moans against your skin as he drinks you in, but you’re so lost to his thrall that it only makes your desire for him deeper. 

His thrusts stutter until he is no longer able to hold back, and he fills you as he rips his fangs from you. His head is thrown back as he growls through his ecstasy, and you blink slowly at his reflection, eyes tracing the veins in his neck now running red with your blood trailing from his mouth. 

With more restraint than you thought he had left, he turns to you and you feel a fog take over as he asks you a series of questions about getting out of this room safely. You answer them each methodically, as if you have no control over your words. 

You feel yourself growing more and more tired, watching every few seconds when your eyes decide to open again from each blink, bleary-eyed as Yoongi dismantles the failsafes you put in place should things go wrong. Your chest aches for him, wanting him closer to you, touching you, drinking from you. 

“Soon, 달달한 피.” He kneels before you, dressed once again, hiding his body from you. You hate it. “It’s time for us to go somewhere safe.”

He pulls you into his arms and you preen, if you could purr, your chest would be rumbling in the pleasure of the feel of him. Your head rests on his shoulder and you try to stay awake; some part of you wants to pay attention to where you’re going, but blood loss wins as you sink into a deep slumber. 

Yoongi - Several Days Later

Pain. 

Your body thrashes with pain as the blood you just consumed spreads throughout your system. The last few days after leaving the ballet studio and entering Yoongi’s…home, for lack of a better word, has been full of the most exquisite satisfaction your body has ever experienced. You told him as much each night since arriving.

He’s reveled in giving into his most debased fantasies, and your body is covered in the proof; bruises littering your skin, chafing around your wrists and ankles, blood staining the rug beneath his feet where he now stands, watching you. 

Yoongi hasn’t turned a mortal in almost 200 years—not since he turned the one you killed. You make a better replacement for her in many ways, he thinks. Your beauty, your mind, your 달달한 피, or sweet blood, which he can’t wait to taste once you’re resurrected. And because this is the longest he has gone since bestowing the Dark Gift upon a being, not to mention that he is closer to 400 years than he likes to admit, he is sure you will be powerful beyond belief. 

He heals his wrist and glances at the time; he chose to turn you at sunset so he had time to prepare before he needs to rest. The marble walls that surround the underground basement bedroom of Yoongi’s home echo with your sounds of pain, so Yoongi leaves you in the bed as he ventures towards another wing. He knows that when the sun sets again, you shall be ravenous, and he needs the help of his brothers to bring in enough sustenance for when you wake. 

His maker, Namjoon, lounges in his study with a beautiful woman straddling his hips. Her skin tone is darker than his, and their coloring makes a beautiful picture of caramel and chocolate swirls. She is draped over him, arms wrapped around Namjoon’s neck as she bucks her hips slowly against him, no doubt riding his cock now for several hours. Yoongi doesn’t hesitate to enter and approach him; he’s used to such displays.

Namjoon licks his lips as he pulls his mouth from her neck, and then smiles up at Yoongi from his couch. 

“Well done, enthralling the last of that hunter family. One less family we need to worry about.”

Yoongi focuses on Namjoon’s face, trying to ignore the whimpering moans from the woman getting off in front of him. It’s making his own cock stir, and he’s tempted to join in, but then he wouldn’t have time to gather the blood you need. He indulges for a few moments longer though, watching the way her supple breasts press against Namjoon’s firm chest as she kisses along his neck. 

“You can join, brother. Would you like her mouth or her ass?”

Yoongi shakes his head but continues to enjoy watching the beautiful woman as she rides his maker. He’s tented in his jeans, but that’s also a normal occurrence for all of the men living here, since you can always find someone having sex at any moment. 

“I wanted to let you know that I will be inviting a few mortals over. I plan to head out with the others and gather a few.”

Glee arises on Namjoon’s face. “You’ve given her your blood, brother? Oh, this is brilliant. Another one to add to our flock! We haven’t had anyone else in years.” He sighs out in content and then murmurs something into the woman’s ear which has her shuddering. He sinks his fangs into her to enjoy her orgasm before turning back to Yoongi. 

“I can’t wait to meet your newest fledgling, Yoongi. I must know though…will you be possessive or is she one we all can share?”

Yoongi smiles, his fangs poking into his bottom lip as he grins at his maker over the shoulder of the woman who is now leaning away, head thrown back as she bounces on Namjoon’s cock with a fierceness of someone chasing a fourth or fifth orgasm.

“I think she may be open to sharing, brother, she should awake tomorrow at sunset.”

Yoongi turns away with a chuckle as he heads to find any of the other five of their flock to accompany him to the bar.  

You - The Next Sunset      

It’s disorienting how clear everything looks to you. You gasp as a hunger you’ve never felt before takes you into its grip and takes over your mind. Lurching out of the bed you’ve been fucked in every which way since arriving, you clutch at your neck. The hunger burns. 

“Come here, kitten, I’ve got what you need right here.”

You turn to the voice, and a bright splash of scarlet comes into view. You don’t even think about it, you just bring it to your mouth and drink messily. You latch on and slurp down as much as you can, wanting every last drop to sate the intensity, but the voice tugs you away. You feel anger but then you’re given another warm mouthful of scarlet and indulge gluttonously. 

This time, when the voice calls to you, there is no anger, only a need to follow, to go to the voice and await more from it. From him. Yoongi. Your memories flood you all at once, a pulsing thrum as your pussy throbs now that the blood from the drowsy humans is in your veins, and you search for him. 

When you find him, you stumble up from your knees away from the bodies and throw yourself into his arms. You realize you’re still naked when he maneuvers your body so that your thighs are on either side of his, bulge from his jeans rubbing your core from the friction. Leaning into you he kisses you languidly, tongue cleaning up some of the mess you left behind before swirling with your tongue to share the taste of the humans in a kiss. 

Your hips grind against him, the kiss turning sexual in moments and Yoongi growls in response to your libido, now heightened after death. 

“Fuck,” he groans as you unzip his jeans and reverently pull his cock from his boxers, and using a combination of the blood dripping on your chest and your spit, begin to stroke him with firm movements.  

Moments later you return to your first position, straddling Yoongi as you sink onto him repeatedly, one hand gripping your ass and the other in your hair, keeping your mouth on his. 

‘Just like that, beautiful, he likes when his cock is buried deep inside a pretty girl.’

You gasp as you hear a melodic voice in your head, turning your head behind you to see six men watching you take Yoongi’s cock as his lips trail down your neck and chest.

You cock an eyebrow at the men, all so beautiful, you could cry at their jaw lines and angles, broad shoulders and dilated eyes. 

“Yoongi, I didn’t realize you liked an audience,” you tease as you slow your movements and put on a show, pushing Yoongi’s shoulders down to the mattress so that when your chests meet, the view of how well you take him, how well he splits you open as you sink down and envelop him to the hilt, is visible to all of them. 

“I like an audience, kitten, and sometimes I like when the audience joins in.” The look he’s giving you as you continue to ride him lets you know the question he’s asking you. 

“With this new immortal lust of mine, I think I’d like that too.”

Sealing your decision with a bite to Yoongi’s neck, you take a deep pull as you feel the bed dip with the weight of the others joining you for what you hope will be the height of immortal lust that will last an eternity.  

The END

달달한 피 (daldalhan pi)- “sweet blood”

↣ all rights reserved © hisunshiine 2024. please do not repost. translations & modifications are not allowed.

#hisunshiine writings #bangtanwhq #btscreaturescoven #btsafterdarknet #thebtswritersclub #yoongi x reader #yoongi smut #yoongi fluff #bts au #yoongi angst #bts fluff #yoongi au #yoongi writings #yoongi fic #bts angst #yoongi fanfiction #bts imagines #bts #bts reactions #bts fanfic #bts scenarios #bts x reader #bts fanfiction #vampire yoongi #bts smut #vampire suga

[alienpossession]

Another take from my end on the continuation of this much-beloved story, this time solely focusing on Andrei & Mike as they meet the ill-fated Steven from the original series by @apushforfolly

Bodybuilding is a rather tight-knit global community. The people you competed back in Las Vegas would be your competitor again in Dubai, in London, yeah, you get the gist of it. So while the Prince is busy consolidating domestic power, what the Prince directed the rest of us to do is to basically get our grip within the bodybuilding community and the ever-growing and increasingly cocky finance bros as stealthy as possible. Sander handled the finance and all those podcast bros flocking to Dubai. Meanwhile, me and Mike are quite influential within the UK bodybuilding circles, and with us based in Dubai, we did leverage that to our benefit as we lured some of the aspiring talent and even several of our old friends for a free Dubai trip which would lead to the end of their life as freedom human entity. Take Rory over here, quite a rather close friend of Andrei before the Prince and then I took this British-Romanian hunk for a spin

Rory eagerly took the offer to rekindle the friendship that just severed out of a sudden as he based himself in Bali while Andrei got his mind fucked by me as I hyper-focused myself to serve the Master and enlarge his influence. I didn't like to waste my time so within the first day he landed, right after I showed him and his girlfriend around their apartment I said to be free of charge as it was still in the market anyway, I simply bitchslapped him until he passed out and then proceeded to infect his girl first, taking the delight of Andrei's fucked up mind that held grudges to Rory for stealing his first crush, her. She cried, obviously, and even harder when she could feel that something terrible is coming with my cock that somehow enlarged beyond her comprehension, because it almost doubled in length and clearly that's not normal and she knows that. As my contained sludgebros released like a damn broken faucet into her throat, her eyes rolled to the back as black sludge overflown her mouth. But she's quick to regain her consciousness and with her mind set to infect her passed out boyfriend, I simply put my sweatpants back on and left the two lovebirds to settle their business.

That's basically one example of our MO, but it's the most effective because these bodybuilders really trust each other, especially when they came from the same country. And when we reached more bodies, it means we have more field operatives to take care off potential puppets. For example, Nico, like Andrei, is Romanian, and he's been out from the spotlight for a while. But, his physique is still great and he's considered a legend among the younger bodybuilders. So, of course I utilized his eagerness to learn a thing or two to become relevant from Andrei as my entry into his tight straight cunt and basically turned him into a puppet.

The legend status he holds gives him easier access to reach the coaches and the more senior bodybuilders, not even a week and he's already turning Jerome Weeks into a puppet too, just look at that wide, slightly off-putting smile the two of them did, if people paid attention a bit more, clearly they can tell that something is a bit not right there

There's also this easily leveraged dynamic of leeching off each other or trying to be in the more influential person's good light, and Mike really milked the shit out of it. He's charismatic, he's also probably the most well-off among the others and you just don't want to mess with him as he can legitimately messed with your influencer career if you crossed him.

Olly and his older stepbrother Craig bumped to Rory and Mike in the middle of a gym, and of course they asked Mike and Rory for a quick pic. The two brothers already planned to utilize the picture for some clout but they are also legitimately looked up to Mike especially, hence the slightly tense pictures despite multiple takes.

What the two humans failed to realize was the fact that both Rory and Mike licked their lips as they watched the siblings walked giddily to the locker room after the pic sesh. They grinned to each other and decided to join the two brothers in the locker room to have some "pep talk". While Rory handled Craig, Mike sauntered the impressionable 20 years old blondie. At first excited to see his idol and tried to respectfully stand up, Olly found himself taken aback as Mike instead pressed Olly back to the seat and then smirked

"I see the potential from you, dude. You can be a jacked piece of shit in no time and fucking popular too. All you neeed to do is open up that mouth, I know you blondie want a piece of this meat,"

Bewildered, Olly tried to fight back but Mike asserted his dominance in a split second as Olly found himself unable to even stand up as Mike held his shoulder and forced him to stay seated

"Don't force me to use my strength, noob. Now, as I said before, you have the potential, just open up that pretty mouth and let me show you how to get big," Mike said with a shit-eating grin so uncharacteristic of him. His crotch just inches away from Olly's quivering lips, and from Olly's POV, he meant every single words he said. Olly still resisted, he tried to scream for help but Mike's hand quickly muffled his mouth, blocking him to even let out a sound. He simply wished that anyone will walk in and caught Mike red-handed, but it seems like it's not goint to happen anytime soon. Unfortunately for him, as his eyes wandered looking for any good samaritan that can help him out of this predicament, his eyes caught a bizarre sight as his married stepbrother bobbed his head up and down Rory's dick like a cum whore! Mike gleefuly said with sinister undertone

"Yeah, even your older brother knows it's the right thing to do. Heck, it's the only way to get big nowadays. It's time for you to also start accepting that as the truth. Now, I won't repeat myself again, open,"

Seeing the tight-lipped Olly, Mike then take the liberty to simply fish out his cock out from his workout shorts, revealing a mean-looking 7.5 incher semi-hard uncut meat throbbing with excitement. He's been going commando since this morning, and the tough workout regiment clearly caused him to accumulate quite some sweat in his crotch. Mike just grazed the tip of his meat right to Olly's pink lips before the young sophomore jock relented to the pressure. His throat felt sticky and sore from all the thrusting, but he found out that he got no gag reflex whatsoever which caused Mike to grin in the first few seconds after the entirety of his cock lodged into Olly's throat

"Ohhh fffuuuckkk you really meant to be a cocksucker bro!"

The whole facefucking lasted for about 6 minutes before Mike started to get tight and exasperated. When Rory and Craig circled around Olly, that's when Olly realized that something is not right when his stepbrother's eyes looking a bit empty and glazed. But not long from both Rory and Craig sauntered the both of them, Mike shot his copious load into the trembling Olly, his body went on a full seizure as the slug takes over his bodily system. Olly eventually regained his consciousness and the first thing he do is to cough out the sticky mess that filled his mouth when he passed out and replaced by an alien slug. He then smiled a very wicked smile

"Now, can I infect other human on my own?"

"Hahahahahah, love the spirit, but not so quick bro, not so quick,"

----

So when Steven Barnett, a bodybuilder with Mining Engineering degree, arrived in Dubai for an all-inclusive honeymoon after marrying his girlfriend for 3 years which also happened to be the daughter of a US Army General, the gym junkie decided to squeeze in several workout session since he knows some of his favorite bodybuilders are based in Dubai. Unfortunately for him, the Prince intel already put a target behind his back the moment he booked a flight to Dubai with his now-wife.

The penthouse arranged by Andrei, the tour around town with Rory, the workout sesh with Mike and Olly, everything is simply part of the plan to ensure that Steven is well-monitored 24/7 throughout his stay. The Prince believed that it's time for him to make another move after consolidating the power in Dubai, and America sounded like a solid plan. So, when Steven walked into one of the last gym that has been recommended by a lot of his online followers, it's already a trap ready to capture him to become yet another puppet in the growing collection of the Master. He's just simply oblivious to the fact that he posed with puppets controlled by mere black slug that looked like a pitch black oil he found in his day job.

#alien possession #male possession #alien takeover #alien expansion #alien transference #male puppet #male takeover #apushforfolly

[2-dsimp]

Hiii hello. I'm new here. I love your blog.

Can I ask for your OCs with a milf reader who just moved next door, maybe? 👉👈

Hope you're drinking enough water, ilyyy

【The H.S.M Scenarios; Milf edition】

—-;———;——-;—————

Cw: Fem reader!

—-;———;——-;—————

“Hey ma! How you n the kids doin? You guys aight? Need any help round the house?”

Vincent would oftentimes drop by and visit after the initial greeting you gave him at his own apartment away from the hitman team. You became the highlight of his life the moment those baked goodies hit the pit of his stomach. The Enforcer would happily come over to babysit whenever he had the time, after the two of you got close enough. It got to the point of where your kids were already calling him their favorite daddy. And of course he made no plans to correct them, since they’ve grown on him just as much. To the point of where he’d kill for them. Plus the hitman wouldn’t mind stepping up as a potential father as long as he’d get to eat his future wife’s cooking all day.

“Listen brat, I don’t like you and I know you don’t like me so how’s about we just come to a mutual agreement and—Ouch! Did you just kick me you lil shiet!”

Covu and your kid will be at odds with each other 24/7 trying to monopolize your time. Using petty tricks and schemes to try and coax you into putting all your attention on themselves alone. This “rich hobo” would try and take you out on some elaborate dates despite him being lowkey most of the time. Just for an excuse to whisk you away from your guard dog of a child who quite literally has a vendetta against anyone trying to take their mother away from them. The Photographer is thankful to them in a way since your kid acts as repellent for any other suitors trying to pursue you. So sometimes he’d leave anonymous gifts to your kid as a reward or transactions for their bodyguard services if you will.

“…Ahem! Pardon me my lady but I’ve heard that you’ve got trouble putting your little ones to sleep, if you don’t mind I’d highly recommend that you use this melatonin spray so that you can rest more easily”

Rivius, At first would be mildly annoyed at all the ruckus your children would cause next door to one of his laboratory’s he has scattered around Devildom. And like an angry Karen, the devil was about to storm to your apartment and give a regal complaint. But he paused after hearing you breakdown from all the stress of being a single mother. The Archdevil would rub his antler horns feeling a bit distraught at how to go about this issue in a more roundabout way where both of you would benefit. So he came up with a recipe on the spot for a good sleeping remedy for your kids so that both you and him would have some piece and quiet. Long story short you were so grateful that you gave the scientist one of the warmest soul soothing hugs in his life. And he just couldn’t help but get addicted to that feeling leading him to be a constant presence in your life always coming up with ideas or solutions to help you and your kids.

#Vincent the Enforcer #Covu the Photographer #Rivius the Archdevil #Yandere Archdevil #yandere male x reader #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere drabble #yandere male #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere x reader #yandere blurb #yanderecore #yandere content #male yandere #yandere concept #yandere headcanons #yandere x y/n #yandere prompt #doodles #yandere monster gang #yandere monster #yandere demon x reader #yandere fluff #yandere hitman #yandere Spin-offs

[collapsedglasshouses]

HEAVEN KNOWS I AIN'T GETTING OVER YOU || Joakim Karlsson x fem!Reader

picture found on pinterest

PAIRING: ex-husband!Jolly x fem!reader

SUMMARY: When Jolly visits you unannounced on a Tuesday night, you have no idea what it leads to.

WARNINGS: SMUT [oral sex, female receiving; unprotected p in v], possessive!jolly, ANGST, jolly and reader have a daughter together (y/d/n), MDNI, 18+

TAGLIST: @measuredingold @cncohshit @circle-with-me @jilliemiw86 @justeli6 (If you wanna be added to the story's taglist or to my taglist in general, leave a comment or message me privately!)

A/N: i wrote this in one sitting and i'm so proud of it that i can't hide it for one second longer. i hope you like it! also this isn't proofread, im very sorry ._.

MASTERLIST

[y/d/n = your daughter’s name]

You thought the hardest thing you had ever done in your entire life was the process of deciding to file for divorce from your ex-husband Jolly, but he had proven you wrong. It was that he had signed the papers without an argument or fight. He had just done it.

It had stung, how he came back from a long tour, saw the papers laying on the kitchen counter and just signed them. It hurt but you also knew it was for the best. That he didn’t fight with you was hard, but it also made it in some ironic way easier.

Since you had a daughter together, he came over only on the weekends when he was home from touring and normally, he’d only pick up your daughter and leave again; not really much conversation going on between you except the necessary small talk. He was a good father and human after all, and you were glad for that.

After some time, routine came back and somewhat everything began to feel normal again. You began to date again, and Jolly seemed to live his life to the fullest. You were happy for him.

That changed when your doorbell rang on a Tuesday evening. You were sitting on the couch watching TV when you heard the sound and for the first couple of seconds you thought about not opening the door. After all, it was almost 8 PM and you were kind of scared there would be someone trying to break in or hurt you, but when it rang again you became curious.

“Joakim?” You asked surprised when you saw him standing there.

“Is it true?” He just asked and looked you dead in the eye.

“What?” You answered him confused. He looked like he hadn’t slept properly since he brought back your daughter two days ago.

“On the weekend, y/d/n said you were seeing someone.” He asked, his tone careful, yet you could sense some sort of hurt in his voice.

“Do you maybe wanna come in before you confront me about stuff that hasn’t got anything to do with you?” You grumbled at him in a sarcastic tone, which he ignored while stepping into the place you once called home together.

He walked into the living room, followed by you. There he crossed his arms in front of your chest and looked at you, disappointed.

“What do you want to here, Joakim? I don’t remember that we agreed to be abstinent for the rest of our lives.” You snarled at him and mirrored is gesture.

“Don’t you think it still hurts that I hear that from our daughter instead of you?” He responded in the same tone.

“I don’t know why you suddenly seemed to care.” You grumbled. “Since you didn’t show any interest in me for… how long is it now? One and a half years?”

“You didn’t even let me explain myself and threw the divorce papers at me. How do you think I feel?” He angrily expressed.

“I don’t even need to tell you this, but there is no other guy. I went on two dates. TWO dates, Jolly.” You answered him while ignoring how his statement stung. You knew it had been egoistic of you, but the months before the divorce, he either wasn’t at home or when he was, he didn’t even look at you. You felt unimportant, unloved, neglected. And now he was throwing around these statements. You wished he had done it earlier. You wished he would have opened up to you. The fact that he only did it because he saw the potential danger of another person in your life, hurt you so much.

Jolly took a deep breath. “I feel like we never even talked about this whole separation.”

“You were the one who didn’t ask when I handed you the papers, Joakim.” You said, your tone a lot calmer than it had been before but you still were angry. You were glad that your daughter was having a sleepover at a friend's house that night, otherwise she would have already been downstairs.

When Jolly didn’t say anything for another solid minute, you sighed.

“Don’t you think it is a bit too late to talk now?” You mumbled defeated and ran a hand through your hair. “I hope you know that I didn’t do that to hurt you. We both know it would have ended way uglier if we dragged it out longer than it already had been.”

You saw how Jolly swallowed hard.

“You know I still love you?” He almost whispered and let his hands fall to his sides. When you looked at him like that, he almost looked broken… defeated. For the first time since what felt like ages, you felt like he let his guard down. Like he wasn’t trying to hide his feelings away.

“I know, Jolly.” You answered him. “And I also know that a part of me still loves you and always will, but we both know that this isn’t going to work. At least not like this.”

He slowly took a step towards you, carefully watching your reaction. When you didn’t look reluctant or took a step back, he reached for your hand and grabbed it.

“I am so sorry that all of this happened. I thought about everything that had happened. Long before the divorce. I know how cruel I was to leave you in the dark. To not talk to you when I needed nothing but your comfort. I thought that I would get through everything by myself.” He told you with honesty in his voice.

“You didn’t have to go through everything alone. That is what a marriage is for, Jolly. I would have been more than happy to help you. I still am if you need me.” You whispered out and looked into the eyes of the man you had and still loved so dearly, and you felt how your heart hurt.

“I always need you, y/n. I need you so bad.” Jolly responded and you saw how his eyes became glossy. Without even thinking you wrapped your arms around his torso and hugged him tightly. You felt how tears started to form in your eyes and it broke your heart when you heard him sniffle for a second.

When you leaned back to look at him, there was this foolish hope in your heart. The hope that you would be able to find back to each other. But your brain knew, even if you did eventually manage to do that, now was not the right time for it.

“Can I kiss you?” Jolly asked and you felt warmth form in your stomach. You knew you should have said no. You knew you should have been strong, but you still nodded.

Your lips met with a ferocity born from years of unspoken words and yearning. The taste of his mouth a bittersweet reminder of everything you had lost.

It felt like you kissed for an eternity and still, when you pulled away, it felt like it wasn’t long enough. You missed him. You missed everything about him, from his small jokes to the way it felt when you fell asleep next to him. He was what made this house a home.

“We shouldn’t.” You whispered against his lips, and he nodded. Before he could even think about letting you go, you pressed your lips against his for a second kiss. This one being much more eager than the previous one.

Slowly but surely, you stumbled towards the couch and soon you were laying under him, lips still connected as if life depended on it. His tongue slipped into your mouth, and you couldn’t help but sigh into the kiss.

It didn’t take long until his fingers curled into the waistband of your shorts and panties. For a second, he leaned back to look for consent in your eyes. When you eagerly nodded, he tugged them down your legs.

He kissed you deeply before lowering himself down your body. You shivered when you felt his breath against your core and not even a second later you felt his warm tongue sliding through your folds. He drew skillful circles around your clit. A wave of warmth washed over you as you moaned out his name and it felt so wrong and so right at the same time. You had missed him so much.

Your hand reached for his and he was quick to intertwine your fingers. Your nails pressed into the skin on his hand as your back arched in pleasure.

“Tell me you’re mine.” He pleaded as he raised his head for a second to look at you through his lashed and you felt like you could come on the spot.

“I’m yours, Joakim. I always will be.” You whimpered out and it was all he needed to hear as his head lowered again.

It didn’t take long for you to feel the waves of your orgasm washing over you, as you screamed out his name. Your vision blurred for a second as you came on his tongue. He kissed the inside of your thighs until you slowly came down from your high, before he came up to look at you again.

You grabbed his face and kissed him with such force, he feared to collapsed right on the spot. You could taste yourself on his tongue and the feeling of the fabric of his jeans against your naked cunt made you shiver in overstimulation.

In a swift motion, he turned you on your stomach and you heard how he unzipped his pants. The next thing you felt was hot kisses pressed to the back of your neck and you sighed in need. You needed to feel him, even if it was the last time.

“Do you have a condom?” He groaned into your ear.

“You don’t need one, Joakim. I’m clean and on the pill.” – “Got it.”

You clenched your fists into the fabric of the couch as you felt him enter you. A delicate burn formed inside of you as he stretched your walls. He was gentle but still you let out a small yelp as he bottomed out in one stroke. The small groan that escaped from Jolly’s lips, let you clench around him for a moment.

“God.” He moaned. “I wish I could stay inside of you forever.”

You moaned as a response.

“I’ll make you mine, even if it’s the last time.” He groaned as he slung an arm around your torso, making you slightly sit on him as he thrusted into you.

“I’ll be yours.” You whimpered and reached behind you to grab onto his hair. You moved in a rhythm as you felt the knot tighten in your stomach for a second time. One of Jolly’s hands travelled between your thighs and began to rub small circles on your wet clit.

“God, Jolly. I’m gonna come.” You almost screamed out.

“I’ve got you.” He breathed out as you felt the intense sensation of your second orgasm rolling over you. You felt how your body slowly lost strength, but you held yourself together for him.

You fell forward, leaning on your elbows as his hands grabbed your hips. Shortly after that you felt how he was twitching inside of you and he let out a loud groan as he finished inside of you, his cum filling you up until it began to drip. He grabbed the armrest of the couch in front of you to not let his weight drop on you as he mumbled out small love confessions.

For a couple of moments, neither of you dared to move. He peppered your shoulder with small kisses while you both tried to tame your breaths. Even though, you both didn’t want to, he eventually pulled out of you and got up, as you slowly laid down on your back.

After a minute or so he reappeared with a washcloth and gently cleaned you up, before helping you up from the couch and to the bathroom to go to the toilet.

After you finished and came back to the living room, he handed you your clothes and you both got fully dressed again, before looking at each other in awkward silence.

You knew what he was going to say, before he could even finish.

“Maybe, I should-…” – “Stay.”

He blinked a couple of times as his eyes lit up.

“Y/d/n isn’t coming back until tomorrow after school. You can stay.” You almost whispered and hoped he wouldn’t leave you in that state. “I want you to stay.”

“Okay.” He muttered and nodded slightly. “I will.”

As the two of you sat down on the couch, a wave of guilt washed over you. This was a forbidden taste of the past that only solidified the painful truth. You were bound by a love that could never be, at least not now…

dividers by @saradika-graphics

#bad omens fanfiction #bad omens fanfic #bad omens fic #bad omens rpf #jolly karlsson smut #joakim jolly karlsson fanfic #jolly karlsson fic #jolly karlsson x reader #bad omens smut #smut #collapsedglasshouseswrites

[coraniaid]

Speaking of Faith, Hope & Trick: that first conversation between Buffy and Faith must be so different from Faith's point of view.

I mean, the episode itself is very much told from Buffy's perspective. She's only recently reclaimed her identity as "Buffy, the Vampire Slayer" and she just started to reconnect with her friends as of the end of last episode. Of course she feels challenged by Faith's arrival; of course she feels like Faith's deliberately trying to upstage her. Of course she feels Faith is trying to intrude on her life. She reacted much the same way when she met Kendra, and that was when she was a lot less keen on being "the Vampire Slayer" and much more comfortable with her place in Sunnydale. As she tells her mother later, she's "just getting her life back […] not looking to go halfsies on it".

But think about it from Faith's side. Even while she's lying about where her Watcher is, she admits that she came all the way from Boston looking to meet "the infamous" Buffy Summers. She presumably set up the earlier encounter with the vampire deliberately to try to lure Buffy out (she's the one to lead him outside and she only starts fighting him seriously once Buffy and the Scooby Gang have arrived looking for her). She must have picked out her never-to-be-seen-again outfit and practiced her slightly too casual introduction of "I've got it. You're, uh, Buffy, right?" (as if she came all the way to California to meet some girl whose name she didn't quite remember) well in advance. She's already calling her 'B' while the vamp's dust is still cooling. You think she hadn't planned that too?

And Faith is trying to so hard to connect with Buffy in this scene. Yes, she tells a lot of "tall tales" (as Scott Hope will later put it) -- she wants to seem impressive! she wants Buffy to view her as an equal! -- but she's also the only person in the group who keeps trying to get Buffy to share things. It's not her fault that the rest of the gang talk over Buffy's attempts to talk about her own past battles or that they undermine her attempts to tell equally impressive stories. It's not even really her fault that she ends up sharing things about being a Slayer that Buffy as obviously been trying to keep secret from her friends (I mean, it's her fault a little, sure, but I don't think it would even occur to Faith to be embarrassed by anything she says).

"Did you really use a rocket launcher one time?" Faith asks, having already heard the story from somewhere and so done her best to convince Buffy that she too has done equally cool things (she hasn't). "What was your toughest kill?" she asks, having fled most of the way across a continent to escape a vampire she couldn't kill herself. "Isn't it crazy how Slaying always makes you hungry and horny?" she asks and "You and I are gonna have fun," she promises. What can that mean but: don't you feel the same way I do? Aren't you just the same as me? Aren't you glad I'm here?

Yes, Faith is jealous of Buffy's friends and her Watcher and her Mom, right from the start, but she didn't arrive in town looking to meet them. She came looking for Buffy; and look at how quick she is to accept Scott's description of her as "Buffy's friend" the next day. But Buffy (very understandably, from her point of view, because of experiences Faith has no knowledge of) just keeps trying to shut her out. The harder Faith tries to impress her -- by trying to win over Buffy's friends, and her Watcher, and her possible boyfriend, and her Mom -- the more aloof the other Slayer seems to get.

No wonder Faith gets annoyed by the rejection. No wonder she starts to get angry. No wonder she's ready to start exchanging threats once they're alone on patrols and the vampires aren't even showing up the way they're supposed to. Like she'll complain later in the season: she came to Sunnydale, she slayed, she did the good little girl routine, and what did she get? Not Buffy, that's for sure.

#btvs #fuffy

[archivistofnerddom]

The Batch + Life In Retirement On Pabu

Slightly AU: Tech lives, though he’s got a prosthetic leg as a result of his fall.

Hunter’s fashion sense swiftly nose-dives into that of every dad at an amusement park. Don’t ask why that happened so quickly. It just did. He’s rocking cargo shorts, corny shirts, and comfy shoes like they’re going out of style. (Crosshair gave him a tactical fanny pack as a joke. Hunter wears it all the time with all due seriousness.) It takes years for the rest of the Batch to get him to branch out from that.

Tech alternates between his space jeans and sweatpants, depending on his mood. The sweatpants were necessary when he first got his prosthetic leg during his post-Eriadu recovery process. He too starts wearing ironic shirts, but somehow makes them more fashionable than Hunter.

Crosshair has the widest selection of island-appropriate hats and sunglasses anyone has ever seen. No one knows how he gets so many, and he’s certainly not going to tell on himself. Omega is the reason why he has so many floral-print shirts though.

Wrecker discovers overalls and pretty much lives in them. No less than half of his overalls have the legs cut off at the knees. This is more practical than fashionable though. He’s just so big that he has a hard time finding pants that fit him at the waist and have a long enough pant leg.

Omega finally gets to decide on her preferred style now that they’re permanently in one place. She still wears a lot of hand-me-downs from her brothers though. Omega spends a lot of time helping out around the island, so she needs clothes that no one minds her getting dirty or ruined when she’s working on a project.

Echo has an extensive collection of sarongs he stores on Pabu that he only busts out when he’s visiting. Rex knows not to ask Echo to do anything if he sees him wearing one. (Visiting the family on Pabu is the only time Echo gets a break or a chance to relax and destress.)

Batcher gets a pretty collar and a massively cushy bed. Someone starts bringing her sweaters to wear when she gets cold. (Crosshair is the leading suspect. Hunter won’t confess to anything.)

Wrecker has an extremely extensive cookbook and recipe collection. He picks up cooking as a hobby post-retirement, and he is really good at it. Given the diversity of people and species on Pabu, Wrecker spends a lot of time learning different recipes from across the galaxy.

Crosshair and Wrecker go fishing together pretty regularly. They don’t say a lot during those times, but that’s okay. Crosshair enjoys spotting where the best fishing areas are. Wrecker just sits back and lets his baby brother take the lead on this. (He brings snacks and a cooler of drinks to keep them fed and hydrated when they decide to make a day of it.)

Tech upgrades the Archeum to improve how things are stored and protected. Omega helps out. They spend a lot of time adding details about the specific items housed therein, including any historical details, cultural relevance, and any notes about how best to handle the items. They’re working with Phee on an oral history component to the Archeum as well, so that the stories about the items in the Archeum and the residents of Pabu are preserved.

Crosshair makes hammocks and strings them up around the island in random places. He says it’s so that he can take a nap wherever and whenever. Really, it’s just his contribution to life on Pabu. (Plus, making hammocks were good physical therapy when he got his new prosthetic hand.)

Omega instituted regular family game night. (Echo is expected to be there as his work with Rex allows.) Depending on their moods, Batch family game night is either extremely chill or extremely cutthroat. There is no in-between.

Wrecker is the first one to “move out” of the shared family house. It’s only because he built an upgraded kitchen with a huge family room attached. The shared family home couldn’t accommodate those upgrades. His house is two houses down and is still where everyone eats dinner almost every night.

Tech moved out second. He moved in with Phee. It was a combination of their evolving romantic relationship and him wanting to be closer to the island repair shop that he runs in his spare time. (Tech became the island’s mechanic once he recovered from the injuries he sustained on Eriadu.)

Hunter develops a massive green thumb. The family shared house (which eventually is just him, Omega, and Crosshair full-time) is overflowing with plant life. He built and maintains a greenhouse for Wrecker to grow speciality plants for his cooking.

Echo usually crashes with Wrecker when he comes to visit. Wrecker renovated part of his house to be prosthetic leg friendly and got a really comfy recliner for Echo. Crosshair put in a hammock for Echo in the backyard.

Crosshair, Hunter, and Omega go on early morning runs together. It’s their bonding time.

Tech upgraded the whole family’s prosthetic limbs many times over the years. Hunter made a point of keeping the older models as a reminder of how far they’ve come since they retired.

Batcher is the most spoiled dog on the island. She adores the attention and winds up becoming the unofficial therapy dog for every new resident and refugee who finds their way to Pabu.

#random bad batch headcanons that popped into my head #post series headcanons #just the batch living life in retirement on Pabu #also - tech lives #bad batch headcanons #headcanons #the bad batch #tbb tech #tbb wrecker #tbb crosshair #tbb omega #tbb hunter #tbb echo #tbb batcher #captain rex #phee genoa #tech x phee #star wars

[uniquexusposts]

Her || Charles

Main characters: Charles Leclerc x OC Genre: fanfiction, fluff  Story type: novel  Part: 14/? Word count: 3144 Co writer: @mistrose23

Summary: This was Matilde Jørgensen, the newly appointed team principal of Scuderia Ferrari, about to face one of the most nerve-wracking challenges of her life. She tried to save the team from more disappointing results and put everything on the line to make them world champion again. There will be a big challenge to lead a historic team as 'newbie' and keeping her work and personal opinions apart from each other. The big question everybody will be asking: is she capable to do so?

Previous chapter

Chapter 12. You Don't Trust Me

The race on Sunday was a race that people were looking forward to. It was a perfect weekend for Ferrari so far; Charles qualified on pole, and Carlos would start from P2. Everyone had hope, hope that they could take the win home. But most importantly, Charles could break his curse. Unfortunately, Arthur was still affected with the Leclerc curse at their home Grand Prix, he had DNF'ed towards the end of the race.

There was pressure resting on Ferrari. They wanted to win, they were eager to win. It felt like they were in Miami again; the dynamic within the team was positive and energetic, but this time, it was real. They were one team, no one was left out.

Before the race, Charles almost couldn't control his nerves. The flawless weekend in Monte Carlo was new to him, he never got the chance to finish it flawless. If it wasn't a mechanical failure, it was a crash. He didn't want to let his friends and family down. He wanted to make them proud. He wanted to make the people of Monaco proud, and his fans, who supported him dearly here in Monaco. There was no way he could afford to fail. Again. Charles could make it, he was confident about it.

From the moment the lights went out, Charles and Carlos executed perfect starts. The Ferrari's roared to life, and they shot forward with precision, entering the first turn perfectly. Charles took the lead, showing his skills. As they navigated through the streets of Monaco, there was an air of confidence around both drivers that could be felt even through the TV screens.

The circumstances weren't too perfect, though. The weather played a big role during the Grand Prix. it threatened to rain multiple times, it could ruin everything. Matilde was monitoring everything closely, nothing would go wrong under her watch.

The team's strategy was spot-on. Pit stops were executed with military precision and exemplary tyre management. Charles and Carlos communicated succinctly with their engineers, providing feedback that allowed them to make real-time and quick adjustments to the cars.

Unfortunately, there was an incident with Carlos and Checo. Checo wanted to overtake Carlos, but his tyres locked up, and he touched Carlos. They both dropped down to the fifth and sixth position, behind Ocon. It was frustrating to the team, mostly because it wasn't a mistake from the team or Carlos, but a racing incident. Matilde was disappointed, but she had to keep her head up for Charles, who was delivering outstanding results.

As the laps counted down, the gap between Charles and Max grew. Every time the drivers passed the crowd, they erupted in cheers. The ambience felt special, it felt like everyone was eagerly waiting for this victory. Matilde felt the pressure coming up, just like the nerves. It would be amazing if she could deliver this home victory to Charles, but little did she know what was about to happen in lap 65.

"I want to switch to new softs," Charles said over the board radio. "I want to go for the fastest lap."

Matilde's eyes shot to the times and other data; he had no chance. Her eyebrows were slightly raised, and she bit her upper lip. She looked at Xavi, waiting for his answer.

"Negative," Xavi replied.

Matilde nodded, the only right answer. As much as she wanted to give Charles a grand slam, it was impossible to do so. Xavi's response was in line with their strategy, and she couldn't afford to gamble that would make a difference between a win and not.

"I'm gliding on these tyres," Charles mentioned again. "We're losing time as well."

"Negative," Xavi said again. "We will not take the risk. We stick to plan A."

"I am losing time because of the tyres."

"You're not losing time. Stay out."

"I am losing time. I want new softs," Charles clarified.

Matilde took a deep breath, and she looked annoyed. What part of the 'we will not take the risk' does he not understand?

"I want to take the risk and go for the fastest lap," Charles explained again.

"Negative."

"I'm coming in," Charles repeated, his frustration clear in his voice.

It was time for Matilde to stir. She felt a pang of irritation. She knew Charles was a fierce competitor, especially now he was about to win his home Grand Prix after a faultless weekend, but right now, he couldn't afford a pit stop. "Stay out, I repeat, stay out," she replied on the board radio, her irritation subtle creeping into her tone.

"I am losing time!" Charles protested.

"We do not have a free pit stop." She looked at his position on the track. "If you pit right now, you will end up behind Max with a gap of five seconds. There will be no chance to overtake him in the time that is left," she sternly said. Her eyes shot to the data; yes, Max was gaining time every lap, but Charles didn't lose time. By the time they finish, Charles would still be far ahead of Max if he stayed out. Matilde's eyes darted to the pits, the Ferrari crew was ready with fresh tyres. "If you come in, you will lose your chance for a victory. Stay out," she mentioned again, her patience wearing thin. "Abort this pitstop."

The pit stop crew were stepping inside the garage again, exactly what Matilde told them to do. She looked back at the screens again, Charles was pushing, exactly what he needed to do if he wanted a free pit stop. Seconds passed, and everything looked great again.

"... I'm already in."

Matilde's face straightened, and she looked at her screen; indeed, he had entered the pits. She turned around and saw a red car approaching their garage. "Are you serious?" she mumbled to herself, looking disapprovingly at Charles, who now stopped. She ignored his rant over the board radio, letting it all happen. The pit crew panicked and ran out with the fresh tyres. Matilde looked down, seeing how the guys struggled. Malicious pleasure, this was an almost malicious pleasure.

To make matters worse, the right rear tyre didn't want to go on. They were struggling. Matilde could only look at it and think how unnecessary this was. After a good twenty extra seconds, the tyre was on, and Charles drove away. It was silent, completely silent. Matilde's eyes followed the car to the exit. She turned around, facing the data and standings.

P5.

"No, no, no! Fuck!" Charles yelled.

Consequences of his own actions, she thought. This hurt. She couldn't help but feel annoyed at how a possible win had slipped away. The camera filmed how the crew in the garage reacted: they were bummed. She felt a camera on her, filming her reaction; she wanted to laugh and yell at the same time, but she told him not to come in, and this was not her mistake.

The data continued to roll in. Carlos moved a position up, making him a podium candidate. He was pushing, closing the gap with Alonso, trying to take the second position from him. Charles was pushing hard, trying to regain his lost positions during the disastrous pit stop. However, time was running out, and the gap between the cars in front of him was significant.

As the laps ticked away, Charles managed to close the gap with Ocon, but he couldn't pass him. It was a bummer that the victory that had seemed so certain earlier in this race had slipped through his fingers. Charles finished fifth, and Carlos was third. It wasn't the result the team hoped for, but the third position was the best they could accept this weekend. Matilde thanked the entire team for their performances and left the pit wall.

On the way to the podium, Matilde ran into Sylvia. They made eye contact.

"Expression," Sylvia said, pointed at her face and passed her.

Matilde straightened her face, trying to keep it neutral. She knew she had a face that was easy to read, but she had no idea it was that obvious. And apparently, her face showed what she thought during the race. When she entered the track, many people were already applauding Max, who got out of his car. Matilde decided to stand in the back, she didn't want to face the media and show her face. She wanted to give the team the celebration, they were standing in the front for Carlos.

"So, eh..." Christian found Matilde in the crowd and stood next to her. "What happened?"

"The Monaco curse," Matilde casually replied.

His eyebrows raised.

She crossed her arms in front of her chest and looked in front of her. "It's a circus," she concluded and shook her head.

He leaned closer to her. "They can read lips, you know," he whispered.

"Consequences of his own actions."

"You can't really say that as team principal, Matilde. You can think it, not say it."

Her eyebrows raised, and she looked at her former boss. The man was known for openly sharing his opinions. "I'm saying this as Matilde, a supporter of the sport, to a friend. You will not hear me say this in the media or in front of the team."

Christian looked at her; he was impressed. He knew her as a sweet woman who barely shared her thoughts. Now she turned into a confident woman with an opinion, she showed no insecurities. A real leader.

"What?"

"Nothing," Christian said.

"But, eh, what was that? With Checo?" She looked unamused at him. Christian's eyes widened. She shook her head in disappointment. "It's a shame. Again."

"We haven't had a chance to speak to our drivers yet. It's too soon to speak."

"Yeah," she mumbled. "We will talk." Matilde looked at him, sharing a waitingful look before snorting when she saw his smile, a playful smile, he still couldn't accept the fact how much she had grown into a leader in a couple of months. "No, but for real, I don't accept this - professional-wise."

"We will talk," he repeated. "But hey, I wanted to ask if you want to join us for dinner tonight. Toto and Susie are coming as well."

Matilde let out a smirk. "You and Toto?" She turned to him. "Secret bromance?"

"Get out of here," he responded immediately. "No, Geri and Susie organised something. We are just being good husbands."

She nodded. "Thank you, but I will have to pass. You have no idea how much trouble I got into the last time I went out with you."

"Was it that bad?"

She blew up her cheeks and looked at him with a 'you don't want to know' look. "Maybe next time, but I really appreciate it." Matilde gave a nod to the front. "Go to your team, celebrate the victory."

Christian padded her shoulder. "Have a good word with your team before leaving."

Matilde looked at him when he walked away. Of course, she would have a good word with her team. Her eyes shot to the podium, she clapped and smiled proudly when Carlos entered the podium, she was still satisfied with the result. It may not be the win they were hoping and aiming for and definitely not the position, but at least one of the Ferrari drivers ended up on the podium after a difficult battle. When Alonso entered the podium, she also clapped. As a supporter, she liked to see Alonso on the podium - she grew up watching him as one of the best on the grid. And then Max, she smiled again and clapped. She grew up with Max at Red Bull, they were close friends, and she was proud of him. The Dutch and Austrian anthems blew through the speakers; once, they were anthems, Matilde lived for.

After the ceremony, Matilde went to Carlos to congratulate him on the podium. They had a brief chat about the race and the slightly disappointing result. Matilde said she was still satisfied with his performance and how helpful he was to the team throughout the race. Then, she told him to go to the media pen for the interviews. Once she arrived in the paddock, she got stopped for an interview with Sky Sports Italy.

"Matilde, there was a dramatic moment when Carlos collided with Checo. Can you tell us something about it?"

Matilde's expression was serious. "The incident was unfortunate, especially in the position Sainz was racing in. He lost some positions, but he managed to make it up and ended up on the podium. We still have to talk about it during the debrief, so I can't share much."

The reporter then asked about the disastrous pit stop. "What happened? How did it go wrong? It seemed to create a lot of tension between you and Charles. Can you talk us through the moment?"

Matilde maintained her professionalism, but couldn't hide a glance of disappointment. "Unfortunately, I cannot give you a comment on it. That is something the team and I have to talk about first."

"But how did it go so wrong? Charles was leading the race, having an outstanding race, a fantastic weekend... And then this?"

"As I said, the team and I have to talk about it before we can share any thoughts," Matilde gave the people a nod and stepped away, not wanting to participate in the interview if they only wanted to talk about the pit stop.

She was forced to stop for another couple of interviews. She stayed professional and refused to share anything about the pit stop. Matilde returned to the hospitality and let out a deep sigh; it was the tension she was holding in. She ran both her hands through her hair; this was a disaster. The potential for the Monaco victory had been within reach, and it had slipped away. Matilde knew that as the team principal, she needed to remain composed and focused on the path forward, but in this private moment, she allowed herself to acknowledge the disappointment and frustration she felt.

She grabbed her stuff and joined everyone in the briefing room, waiting for Charles and Carlos. It was silent, an uncomfortable silence. A few minutes later, Carlos and Charles entered the briefing room. If looks could kill... They sat down next to their engineers.

The debrief started.

"Fire away," Matilde opened the debrief. She understood that the disappointment and frustration among the team needed to be addressed openly for progress to be made. People looked at her, not knowing what she meant. "Fire away," she repeated. "If something stays unspoken, it will lead to further issues. Speak, talk, share." She encouraged everyone to speak their minds.

Charles scoffed and looked away. He seemed sceptical and even dismissive of this approach. He questioned her seriousness. "Are you being serious?" He made eye contact and raised his eyebrows in disbelief.

She met his gaze with unwavering determination. "Very much. We can only learn from this." They glanced at each other for some time.

He shook his head and looked away again. "My goodness. I just want to go through the race and go home," he mentioned.

Matilde took a deep breath and looked around the room. "Anyone else?" It stayed quiet. "Fine, let's begin then," she mumbled, knowing this would cause trouble in the near future.

People spoke about the race, and feedback was collected. Tension hung in the room. Everybody said what needed to be said, but not one word more. Matilde looked around, this team was everything but open to each other. She rubbed her face with her hands and looked outside for a brief second; she had to stay professional, but she was close to losing it. Did she fail as team principal or did... She was failing. When she looked back, she noticed Charles looking at her with a 'if looks could kill' and a disappointing look on his face.

They reached the pit stop during their conversation. The words about the pit stop were being rushed. On to the next part of the race.

"May I ask why you called for a pit stop?" Matilde asked Charles. She crossed her arms and leaned back on her chair. No one dared to ask it, so she would do it.

Charles licked his lips and raised his eyebrows.

"I am just trying to understand. Because you didn't show any errors or slow laps. In fact, your lap times were consistent."

"I saw an opportunity for the fastest lap," he casually replied.

"Where?" It was silent. "You didn't have a free pit stop, and Max was gaining time, but not enough to overtake you before the end of the race." Matilde leaned against the table again. "We told you multiple times not to come in. And what did you do? You come in. When I tell you to stay out, you stay out."

"I saw a gap."

"We did not."

"With all due respect, Matilde, I know what I felt in the car. I knew I had an opportunity, and it was taken away."

"I absolutely respect your passion for winning, and I, and if I may speak for the team, want nothing more than to see you win or to see Carlos win. We aim to be the best, be at the top of the podium as many times as possible, and bring a championship home to you both. However, the decision was made regarding this race with the team's best interests in mind. And I rely on your input, but also on everyone else's input within the team," Matilde spoke, hoping Charles would also understand her point of view on this race and the disaster.

"You don't trust me."

Matilde's eyebrows raised, and she looked at him with a confused but hurt face. "You came in seconds after I told everyone to abort the pit stop. You only mentioned you were in the pit lane when you were already in the pit lane. If you still decide to come in, be kind and tell us sooner next time."

"I did tell you!" Charles raised his voice. "Didn't you look at your monitors?"

"When I say to stay out, you stay out, and I trust you to stay out," Matilde mentioned, remaining calm. "What did you expect?" She waited for an answer. "You know why we told you no? Look at the results yourself."

"I saw an opportunity-"

"And we didn't!" She cut him off. "There was no need to stop. We could not afford to take the risk to pit. If there was no risk, you were more than welcome to come in and change your tyres, but there was no margin to do it. We wanted to go for the win, a safe win, to bring home a win," she responded, overruling his statement. "Even with a perfect pit stop, you still would not be able to pass Max. What was your goal in doing this?" 

Taglist: @itsjustkhaos @crashingwavesofeuphoria @maryvibess @chocolatefartstrawberry @snzleclerc

#charles leclerc #f1 #formula 1 #ferrari #carlos sainz #carlos sainz jr #max verstappen #kevin magnussen #fanfic #motorsports #formula one #charles leclerc x oc #fluff #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fluff #scuderia ferrari #Charles Leclerc fanfic #Charles Leclerc fanfiction #formula 1 fanfic #f1 fanfic #f1 fanfiction #formula 1 fanfiction #f1 fic #charles leclerc imagine

[yandere-sins]

I've been reading your orca stories, and Nerrokan is my favorite. Would you ever consider writing a short POV of how the sirens respond to Bad End 3.2?

It doesn't feel like Krill or Lyr like reader outside of being a plaything, but with Nerrokan it's harder to tell at that point in the story. They do seem to have some sort of feeling at that point already though?

(Reading heavily into the "Human, let's sleep over it" line where Nerrokan seems to be warning reader that staying is a bad choice.)

Thank you for reading my stories and enjoying them! However, I don't think I will make another story addition to that, sorry. :')

But I can give some thoughts on what I think is the outcome.

If you are asking about how they'd react to the reader trying to drown themselves, I will have to disappoint you, very few of my stories would actually go that way—I'm more of a "there is no escape" kinda gal. Reader would probably be picked up by some orca and be brought back to the community spot all like "I found you, you're so clumsy! But no wonder since you're a human."

It's a big pack, even if reader wishes that their eyes aren't on them all the time ^^'

So yeah, drowning is not an option and the orcas definitely won't be happy with the mishap, becoming much less confident in leaving the darling with the others and starting to take turns staying with the darling. Which is only making them more depressed in the long run since Lyr and Krill are somewhat 'eh' about their time with the darling unless it involves something fun for them too, like mating. Only Nerrocan likes to actively spend time, take them to the surface, chill in the sun, teach them orca tradition, and make them happy etc.

As we discovered in their stories, Lyr and Krill really don't harbor deeper feelings for this mate, but I suppose it's a bit like an arranged marriage—you develop your new normal and come to terms with each other. However, since Nerrocan is mated to them, the rest of the orcas just assume that goes for all three. Especially since they are so protective and still respected in the pack.

Lyr would never have another child with this human and probably move on to his dolphin!mate at some point.

Between Krill and Nerrocan, if there is another child, it would probably be Nerrocan's. Simply because he treats his mate better and is involved so they might actually develop a closer relationship. Which in turn leads to Krill's mother finally being dethroned, but even though we didn't get to see much from her, Nerrocan's mom isn't much better as a leader.

Krill would also probably come to resent Nerrocan and his aunt for it, and eventually the human and his own child. Strangely, he can't get over the death of his own mom despite wanting nothing more than to be rid of her. It's a pride thing and the fact that he suffers from the demotion the most.

As for your last point, Nerrocan did want reader not to make a hasty decision because he had already planned on taking them away. Them agreeing and giving themselves to the others was fatal to his plan so he wanted them to 'sleep over it'. He couldn't proceed to execute it once their life were too entangled with everyone's and perhaps he also didn't want to. He got to be with them regardless, even though them growing more and more depressed inevitably hurts him too.

Hope this gave you some ideas for the continuation! Thank you again for reading ♥

#orcas #yandere talk #yandere mermaids #yandere mermen #yandere!mermaid #yandere!merman #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere fanfiction #yandere writing #yandere stories #yandere oneshots #yandere oneshot #yandere drabble #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #Yandere TW

[lord-squiggletits]

Actually re: the last post about IDW Optimus and politics and moral grayness, if anyone here has read The Wheel of Time series, I actually compare IDW OP to Rand al'Thor in my head a lot. They have sort of the same background of "normal guy gets singled out by a person of Great Authority and put on a path to saving people" followed by a path to leadership hinging on "I became the Chosen One so even though I just wanted to save people, now I have to get involved in these bullshit politics where people are more concerned about securing their own power or spiting their enemies instead of uniting against evil."

Then there's a part of WOT where Rand becomes way darker and edgier, where basically as a result of a severe incident of betrayal and trauma, he goes "You know what, fuck you people, I tried to be nice and you just stabbed me in the back and tried to literally use me as a tool for your own ends" and he basically became a major hardass. To the point where I think there was at least one point (if not multiple) where after Rand extended some sort of diplomatic solution and got rejected, he was basically like "fuck you," fought an entire city on his own and won, then made himself the ruler and went "your armies belong to me and you're going to prepare to fight the Dark One like you SHOULD BE DOING." That phase is sort of comparable to Orion working under Zeta (OP flashbacks, Autocracy trilogy), in which OP's ideals are buried under disappointment and he's seeing these complicated, shitty political realities playing out where it seems like nothing is getting better and his attempts to work with the Decepticons only end in (from his perspective) being blatantly lied to and having his goodwill taken advantage of.

That's really what my ideal phase 2/3 story for Optimus would've been lmao. Still with the same idea of "gee you ARE fighting for the greater good but aren't you going a little far," but balanced out with a rightful dose of "I tried to be diplomatic and nice but no one listened, what else can I do but use force/politics/manipulation to make people see reason if they won't stop backstabbing and betraying each other in time to fight the Actual Evil Force who's going to kill us all."

WOT Rand even had a part of his character arc where he went so far into "humanity sucks, they would literally rather get slaughtered by the ultimate evil than set aside their petty bullshit long enough to work together" where he almost committed murder-suicide in a fit of despair that maybe humanity wasn't even worth saving at all. Only for him to be saved from the edge of despair by realizing "Wait, the world SHOULD be saved, because even though humanity sucks and so many people are evil, good still exists in the world and we can still fight to make the world a better place than it is."

LIKE IN A WAY RAND AL THOR IS BASICALLY IDW OPTIMUS in terms of the general shape of his character arc. Just the difference is that Rand got written as just a character with flaws and virtues coping the best he can under immense pressure and trauma. Whereas IDW OP got written more as "God the world fucking sucks and Cybertronians might just deserve to die bc we colonized people" and also everyone is constantly calling him a fascist and even the titles of his story are comparing him to an actual genocidal tyrant who killed 100 billion+ people. No joy or humanity just a scapegoat for evil living in a shitty world where everyone is miserable and "maybe our entire race IS doomed and we DO deserve to die" is like, a repeated motif of the entire story all the way to Unicron. As opposed to being treated as an obviously shitty worldview that the characters grapple with and go "no actually the world can be a good place and our society can recover from war and we don't deserve oblivion because of the cycle of violence we're trying to escape."

#squiggposting #like in theory i dont have a problem w what barber wrote. IN THEORY #i do enjoy depressing angst stories where the moral weight of war and shit is measured #and ppl ask questions about if the world can ever improve or if we're just doomed to repeat history #my problem is just that barber went too hard on the 'maybe we all deserve to die' #and not hard enough on 'actually we can improve and overcome our history' #i guess making OP some white guilt and fascism allegory was more important #like literally the depressing worldview wasnt some story arc the characters were trying to overcome #literally all the way through unicron it kept coming up #and literally not till OP 25 did the narrative finally go 'actually trying is enough' #so like the ending was fucking great and OP defeating unicron by the power of love was even greater #the rest of the story leading up to it not so much #idw op love

[skitskatdacat63]

Christopher Nolan making movies: I'm gonna make a film that is so confusing and non-linear

#just watched memento :DDDDD #which i think would be his first bigger movie? #but it was so interesting bcs there were a lot of concepts in it that are so visible in his later films #like watching that after watching almost all of his most recent films was such an 'aha!' moment #lthe whole black&white vs in-color to delineate which part of the story we're in #in memento: black and white is the beginning of the story and then in-color is the rest of the story going backwards #and then he uses that concept again in oppenheimer but b&w is the current events and color is everything leading up to that and after #like yeah its really confusing first time around because you dont know that fully yet but then at the end its like OH!!!!! #and then both also have other stuff interspersed btwn those two sections that you only reallly understand by the end #and then with the plot going backwards. that was the same as tenet right? #like starting with the end of the story and them ending with the beginning of the story #i cant remember inception well enough atm but im sure it has traits of memento as well #his movies are like puzzles ig! like you really have to keep track of all the details and what takes place when #i think theyre really fun bcs more and more becomes clear to you #im not sure what the most confusing nolan movie is hmmmm probably tenet or inception right? #oppenheimer: much more clear in general since its following literal historical events but just in a non linear manner #the only real reason i found it a bit confusing is bcs i didnt know a lot of the characters and also was trying to figure out the timeline #and then interstellar is more just confusing in concept bcs it has to do with time in the 4th dimension and all that #but i think the story is pretty understandable its just hard to wrap your head around the different time/dimension concepts #then again....ive watched it probably more than 4 times by now! ITS ONE OF MY FAV MOVIES EVER #cant say much abt the batman movies bcs they have nolan concepts but arent really like his other stuff #haha someones said he did those movies so he could make absolute bank and then have a blank check to do whatever movies he wants #and someone also said that oppenheimer felt like memento and thats so so so true!!! #its cool that he can make the movies he wants. bcs as i said watching memento really outlines very well what concepts he likes #watching it was weird bcs im like oh yeah this is *so* christopher nolan and then realize this is literally only his second film #i need to rewatch inception and dunkirk and see if i can spot inspo from Memento in them #anyways: yay film!!! yay cinema!!!!!! movies are so fun!!!!!! #catie.rambling.txt

[sorikkung]

people interacting w wgoin in my notes... this would be a rly bad time to say all my writing will probably be on hiatus for the indefinite future huh

#not like it makes a practical difference considering i only upload twice a year at best #but im realising how much my writing is shame motivated and its just not sustainable or healthy #it saddens me that these stories i invested So much time and effort into will probably never get finished #i wanna hold out hope that they will but #i dont want anyones expectations to be too high #bc knowing myself they probably wont #i started wgoin thinking that this would be the story i commit to finishing and not just abandon as soon as i get bored #but that was before i had really realised how my brain works #and for a while writing these chapters have felt very forced #gbgb had a much better run till it crashed and i was just unable to pick it back up #tbh that one could potentially still be saved bc of how open ended it is if i get any inspo for it back whatsoever #bc it had no strict plan i was entirely making it up as i go #and im realising thats how i write best. i tried to plan wgoin so id commit to finishing it but im realising that has the opposite effect #if i plan anything too thoroughly writing it becomes like gnawing on lead #cause i got all the dopamine out of the idea already #i write best when i have nothing but a vague idea or a vibe #gbgb crashed bc i ran out of vibes and ideas but if i find any again who knows #there is the possibility where i scrap the plan i had for wgoins entire plot and make the rest up as i go #which i might try purely bc i love the story sm #and i think i enjoyed writing it most back in the first three parts where i Was making it up as i went #which is why im saying indefinite hiatus instead of discontinued #bc there is hope for them. just not. much #so if u stick around maybe follow me on ao3 if u dont wanna see all my posts n just my stories #maybe in 3 years time youll see another wgoin notif or sumn #sorry to the small but dedicated handful of readers who really loved these fics #i wanted to write more for you guys bc ik its hard to find this kinda fic anywhere else; its why i started writing it #but i am but one unmedicated autist w severe adhd. we r working on the unmedicated part tho #ive learned so much abt how my brain functions now n how to make the most of it tho #i told myself id finish any new writing before i post it. so know anything new Will be complete :3 #mischiefing time

[bitchfitch]

somebody shoot me with a gun until I am dead before I write the first chapter of that pirate thing for like. Genuinely the eighth or ninth time.

#i have versions i like the vibes of #i have versions i like the pacing of #i have versions i like the writing of #i have not a single one that manages to hit even 2 out of those 3 criteria #Like. I think part of the issue is the setting is dreamy its soft and floaty and things arnt Right #but the first thing that happens is a guy loudly boasting about how much hes going to enjoy sexually assaulting his deuteragonist #hes lying. but Toi'uhla doesn't know that. The people ze is choosing to sacrifice zerself for dont know that. #the child whos experiencing the fear of death for the first time doesn't know hes bluffing either. #and the entire time theyre on a boat thats floating in empty nothing in a universe that has no stars left. #So much of making a tangible Threat like that hit is slowing for a moment and describing the ugly details of like #existing. as a physical person in a physical world. This horrible thing is happening and while it does the wind is messing up your hair #That sort of thing. #But there is no wind. there is no water. or rain. Toi'uhla's sense of smell is almost non existent. so ze cant think about the body oder #of that many people in that close of quarters. #And all while this is happening. i have to set up that these are two alien species with distinct cultures and Very different perspectives #on what is happening. Lordakai Senior is the one who lead the raid that killed Toi'uhla's sire and zer siblings. #But ze only knows the name Lordakai. bc for Zer it is completely reasonable to assume that the two Lordakai's are the same guy #Koita are long lived. Toi'uhla has never had reason to learn how to tell how old they are #Lordakai jr is absolutely riding on his dads name. but he doesn't know his dad was a privateer #So like. Theres a lot of shit happening in a weird setting #With two characters that need to Mesh while both putting up complete fronts. #and it needs to set up the stakes and themes for the rest of the damn story. #qnd its just a lot man. I love this project. i love these characters. but there's so many moving pieces bc theres had to be to make enough #Stuff to fill out the long spaces where they're just. on a pirate ship. being bored. #im probably over thinking this #blehgh

[arolesbianism]

Thinks oh so hard abt the spiraling upwards clan founders, especially the birchclan founders. Silly lil kitties who's pasts are drenched in blood with the primary regret of not drawing it sooner

#rat rambles #oc posting #warriors posting #spiraling upwards #long story short they had a shitty awful terrible leader who sucked absolutely ass and they tore him to shreds #I mean that literally they pinned him onto the mountain side and slashed and mauled the shit out of him so hard that his lives evaporated #and several of the cats involved in that scene are sill alive and major parts of the story and I love them #oh also the cat that pinned him through a stab through the throat was his own daughter btw everyone hated his ass so much #and for good reason get his ass #alas in the main story I dont rly get to go too deep into how he harmed everyone involved mostly just three main ones #aka bristlestar because shes murtlepaw's ghost mom dawncrackle because hes also haunting murtle and gullspot because shes bristle's kit #so basically all the flashbacks we get involve those three in some form or another #honeystar was also there and involved but Im not currently planning on having her rly talk abt that #most of her more modern angst is the fact that she was forced into leadership against her will #and shes been alive long enough that shes been leading birchclan far longer than she ever lived in her old clan #but she did go through a lot of shit before birchclan was founded and it definitely shaped her a lot #she used to be a very determined and high spirited lil kitty cat who tried to be optimistic #but her family began to slowly be picked off one by one by both the old leader and the one whod later get evicerated #some of the older cats around her hoped it make her back down from her revelutionary ideas but she noticed that and it backfired on them #instead of being worn down to submission she became absolutely Furious and began to lash out more and become more demanding #it got to the point that she really only had two friends in the entire clan and one of them was her aunt whod later also die after coming #out abt having witnessed the leader killing his own kits #that was the final fucking straw for her and she was fully on board when bristle and dawn started looking for cats to join their rebellion #she did get rly frustrated with them as they waited patiently for the right moment but her remaining bestie kept her from going apeshit #so once the big fight finally broke out she was more than eager to join the hoard of cats chasing the bastard upwards #now unlike some of the other cats involved this legitimately actually made her feel a lot better for a while #for the first time in ages she finally felt like she could be optimistic abt smth again and was excited abt the idea of leaving this place #she had lost so much in this damn place since she was an apprentice and just wanted to finally be able to rest easy #but once they got to their new territory and set up camp things went south real fast as a flood fucked everything up #and after losing the only cat she had left in her life and losing her tail and being made deputy on top of that she deteriorated quickly