#I’m not even touching the humans are a plague comment
Note
THE WAY U WRITE THE OLD RED DEMON MAN IS JUST SO NEKEKDKEOWB
Might I just add onto the seemingly continuous alastor requests. I'd love to see Alastor x Reader where reader is in heat and Al finds it pathetic but takes pity on them and helps anyway bc like poor thing can't even get their own instincts in control they're obviously hopeless
warnings: 18+!!!NSFW
You thought when you died you would be rid of hormones.
Periods were a pain while living, but this is was worst.
When you were alive, your periods plagued you with mood swings, random cravings, and pain.
Now that you were dead, you didn’t experience the dreadful red flood and raging mood swings; no. Now all you felt was unbelievably horny and needy.
And you hated it.
You usually carried yourself with confidence and elegance.
You usually liked to help around the hotel and were generally friendly with everyone.
You grimaced as you woke up to feel just how drenched your panties were. I really need to stock up on new underwear you thought as you tossed the ruined panties into the hamper.
You usually spent your heats alone and could hide in a hole until you felt normal again. You usually could control yourself well enough til you had enough free time to ease the tension between your legs.
Or until you found a poor sinner.
Weeeeellll that was hard when you lived in a hotel with a ton of shit to do. You really didn’t want to hear Angel’s jabs as you dragged some unfortunate soul to endear your sex rage.
You sighed, hopefully you could get through the next few days without embarrassing yourself completely.
So far so good you thought as you went about your day doing whatever activity Charlie had you do with the group.
Every touch and scent didn’t send your cunt into a tingling frenzy; yes you had to change your panties a few times but nothing crazy.
That was until you were around Alastor.
Your body practically buzzed whenever the tall red demon was in your vicinity.
You first chalked it up to that it was because you did found him attractive and simply thought it would go away.
But your cunt begged a differ.
You squirmed a bit on the couch as Alastor took a seat beside you, clenching your thighs to ease the uncomfortable throbbing.
It didn’t help that he smelled amazing.
Alastor smelled like evergreens how y’all ever smelled Christmas pine??? That shit is delicious!!!!
And you didn’t realized you had took a deep inhale of him until he turned to you
”Is everything alright my dear?” He asked, eyebrows raised.
fuck how were you going to tell him you wanted to bury your nose into his neck and just SNIFF?
“O-oh I’m f-fine…i-its just you smelled nice?” You wanted to facepalm.
He blinked at you before letting out a laugh “OOooh why thank you my dear” that shit eating grin widened, voice dropping a slight octave“I must smell very enticing if you’re sniffing at me” his eyes narrowed slightly.
A shiver ran through your body and you swear you were leaking through onto the couch. You wanted to die of embarrassment.
“I-I just never noticed before that’s all” You said shrugging, trying to ignore the fact that his very voice was affecting you.
Charlie had ended whatever the hell you were doing and you quickly made your way to your room, causing some confusion.
You were usually a social butterfly with the gang. You never not chat away with Angel as he told the wild shit he did on set.
“Has got to be that time of the month” Angel commented as you almost sprinted out the room. Charlie and Vaggie gave confused looks ”what?” He sighed “You know…” nope not a clue.
”She was a human remember? Every so often her pussy basically shreds itself to bits”
Charlie gasped “So she’s hurt? Shouldn’t we do something?” Angel laughed,shaking his head “Nah we can’t help. But she'll be fine. Just give her a few days and she'll be normal again”
Alastor was in the background listening, the smile on his face sharpened, you weren’t hurt or bleeding, but there was definitely something that could be done.
You snarled as your vibrator died and tossed it. You groaned as your clit continued to throb. You had thought four orgasms would have did the trick but nope you still had the irritating itch.
You didn’t own a dildo because it was pointless.
it wasn’t the real thing.
You wanted to cry. This was your first heat while you’ve been at the hotel and you didn’t just want to drag a stranger here.
You had more control than that.
At least that’s what you thought.
You had locked yourself in your room as you tore your room to bits. The walls were shredded, pillows and sheets drenched in slick and your poor toy was in pieces.
Panting, you curled in a corner and tugged at your hair, squeezing your eyes tight as tears began to pool in your eyes.
You hated this.
You hated how it felt like you didn’t even feel like yourself.
Hated that you couldn’t even control your own damn bodily function.
Hated how your body desperately wanted to be filled.
You would give anything to make this horrid feat of yours go away.
“I would have never thought to see you in such a state my dear”
You froze at the voice and jerked your head to the source.
Alastor.
He was standing at the entrance of your bedroom, a smirk on his face as he took in the state of your room.
”I must say, it. Is rather entertaining to see your lack of control” he said as he approached your curled form.
He crouched down, feigning a concerned look before a clawed hand seized your hair and wrenched your face til your noses were bumping against each other.
”did you think I couldn’t smell you?” He growled “You smell just like a bitch in heat”
You whimpered as his lips ghosted over yours “I-I’m sorry”
His scent was surrounding you. It was a drug. Assaulting your every nerve with each breath you took.
He smelled so good
please
”Please” you whispered as your cunt buzzed, tingling from his clos proximity and in hopes he would have mercy on you.
Alastor sucked his teeth at you. What a pitiful thing you were…
With a deep breathe, he stood and walked over to your ruined bed and sat. You watched as he sat his mic down and removed his coat. Yanking at his tie, he unbuttoned his shirt and looked over at you with narrowed eyes “Well? Do you want to continue to ruin your furnishings or do you wish to satisfy that brazen desire of yours?”
He widened his legs and your eyes honed in on how he unbuckled his pants.
Your throat tightened and you found yourself crawling over to him, no regard that you were naked.
Kneeling between his legs, your hands soothed up his thighs as your rubbed your head against his crotch.
Alastor lifted your chin for your eyes to meet his. Your eyes were blown out and you winced as his grip tightened.
”I pity you my dear, reduced to wanton whore, but don’t fret…Ill help you through your heat” a thumb ran over your pouty lip.
Your cunt clenched around nothing at his words.
You damn near drooled as he adjusted himself to pull his cock free from its restraints.
It was big, in both length and girth. It slapped against your face, causing you to hum at the weight of it.
You nuzzled it, nose gliding along his length before softly pressing kissed along it. When you came to his mushroom tip, you didn’t hesitate to suck at it. Alastor sighed as you gave the head of his cock kitten licks.
Head clouded with desire, you slowly bobbed your head along his length, taking him whole as you gagged once you reached the hilt.
You eased him out your throat and with a sickening pop, you admired as his spit-covered cock shined. You opted to jerk him off slowly as you buried your nose in his ball, inhaling his scent.
Alastor’s hand found your hair and guided you away from his cock, bringing you to climb up his body, until your smoldering heat was rubbing against his cock as he pressed kisses to your shoulder and neck. A gasp tore from your throat as he nipped at your jaw.
”On fours my dear”
Clumsily, you scrambled to follow his instruction. You must not have been to his liking because he pressed your head til your cheek was flat to the bed, back in a deep low arch, thighs pressed to your stomach and spreaded wide with your ass and cunt exposed to the air.
You would have blushed in embarrassment if you weren’t so turned on.
A hand glided down your back, causing you to shiver and then jolt as a harsh slap was planted on your ass, before it soothed over the burning cheek.
Alastor kneaded your ass before sliding his fingers down to your cunt.
Your slit was swollen and your clit, puffy with need.
You were dripping.
He dipped a finger inside you, testing how wet you were.
Soppy.
He added a second, your cunt greedily welcomed his fingers with ease, giving into resistance.
He chuckled “What a greedy cunt, sucking in my fingers like a cock”
You whined when he took his fingers out, already missing the feel of something inside you.
Alastor took his cock and rubbed it against your cunt, coating himself in your slick.
”I am going to fuck you to your little sinful heart desires and you are going to be grateful of everything I give you. You are going to take every bit of my cum until it spills from this cunt and then again and again until I have bred you so thoroughly. Do you understand slut?”
You were breathing heavily, trembling in excitement.
With a single, sharp thrust he filled your cunt, earning a soft cry from you.
”Do you understand?”he hissed through clenched teeth.
”Y-Yes A-Alastor”. you whimpered, eyes clenched shut in pleasure.
”Good girl”
He drew back and thrusted into you again
And again
And again
He had set a slow, but rough pace. Thrusting his cock deep into the soft warmth of your cunt with each drag.
Soft moans filled the air as he buried his cock inside you.
It felt so good.
He reached depths your finger couldn’t quite reach.
And it was amazing.
”A-Ala-stor Aah! Aaah! Hah!” You pushed your hips against his, mewling loudly as he grinned his cock into you.
”Youre pathetic ” He laughed, eyes watching his cock disappeared inside you, giving you a hard thrust at his words.
”Nothing but pathetic slut who can’t control their own body”
His grip on your hips pulled you flushed against him, making you take him til his balls was nestled against your slit.
”You probably would have spreaded your legs for any poor sinner, just wanting to be fucked dumb” Your body rippled as his thrusts got harder.
Your cunt only got wetter.
He noticed as he seemed to sink even deeper into you, as if your cunt loosened to welcome him
”oh? I bet you would have liked that wouldn’t you? So out of sorts with need that you would have just anyone bred this cunt”
He growled at the squelching noises from your cunt, you shook your head in denial.
No. No you wouldn’t haven’t done something like that.
”N-no I-I wouldn’t-” You cried out as his finger ghosted over your swollen clit.
”You would have been happy to bend over and offer your cunt to anyone, as long as you had a cock fill you” Alastor continued before a cruel, deep laugh erupted from him
”But instead you sought me out. I had no intention in satisfying you, but what a gentleman would i had been if I ignored a lady in need?” You felt him lean over, hips never missing a beat as he sunk his teeth into your shoulder.
”Oooh how fortunate you are my dear”
You were suddenly flipped onto your back. Hair sprawled around you like a halo, your chest heaving as he pushed your knees to your chin.
Your lidded eyes watching as he slide his cock between your pussy lips, bumping your clit. He grabbed your wrists, using them as leverage as he thrusted back into you, the new angle making your throw your head back with a broken cry
”FuuuuuUccckk Ah Ah AH!” His hips dug into the underside of your ass as he pounded your cunt.
Alastor hadn’t lost composure the entire time he fucked you.
He watched as you fell apart, your hips wiggling to accommodate to his harsh administrations.
Your cunt took him so good. A white, creamy ring formed at his base as he scraped against that sponges nerve inside you.
You welcomed him gratefully. Letting him wrench pleasurable sounds from your pretty lips.
Pushing your raised legs apart, he lowered his weight on you as he slammed his lips on yours, swallowing your moans. Your tongues danced as he rocked into your body.
The sounds of him ruining your cunt pushed him to fulfill your primal desire.
You felt that familiar blaze of heat take over your body as Alastor fucked short rapid thrusts into you.
Every brush of his abdomen against your clit had your cunt going haywire.
You were going to cum.
Alastor was going to make you cum.
You moaned at the thought
You were gonna cum on his cock
And he was gonna breed you
Breed your soppy cunt
and you were going to let him
”please….” You whined into his mouth
Fuck the very thought had your body buzzing.
”please what?” he purred
Your head was reeling, foggy with the need to be filled.
A hand wrapped around your throat, squeezing
“What are you begging me for slut? Hmm?” His strokes were hitting harder and deeper.
”You want me to breed your cunt? You want to me to fill you up so good that all you’ll ever think is how my cum belongs inside you? What do the little slut want?”
Yes you wanted all of it.
You wanted him to fuck you so good, you wouldn’t even think of wanting another cock from his.
You wanted him to fill your cunt to the brim and then fuck it back inside.
You wanted him to breed you like the little slut you were.
To breed you til he had his fill.
Your instincts had practically took over, fuck sanity.
”Mhmm! I want it. I want you to Ah! I want you to fill me with your cum! Please please breed me Alastor” You whined, feeling your belly clench as your orgasm hung over you, promising sweet relief.
The hand around your throat, tightened causing you to gasp as he spoke into your ear, voice deep and purring
”Youre gonna make yourself cum on my cock slut”
your hand flew to your clit to flick fast circles on the bud.
Alastor’s thrusts quickened, growls pouring from his lips
”Who’s a filthy little slut?”
”M-Me”
”Whos a pathetic slut that’s gonna take my cum?”
”Me!”
”Fucking slut gonna let be breed her dumb”
A sob tore from you as your orgasm washed over you, he fucked you as you milked him, hips angled to thrusts so deep you’re sure your cunt had molded into the shape of his cock
”hah hah aaah fuuucckk fuck fuck Al-Alastor!”
You saw white as your mouth opened in a silent scream only for him to swallow the whine in your throat.
”That’s it you pathetic slut take it. Take my cum. That’s a good girl. Let me breed this sweet cunt cher” your hips raised as he sunk into you and with a deep groan, he cummed into your spasming cunt, making sure to thrust deep enough he hit your cervix as he painted your walls white.
Whether conscious or by instinct, you gave him a ditzy smile, eyes glazed over as you slowly rubbed your clit, whimpering. Holding eye contact with him, a soft pout graced your lips
“Again”
You truly were a pathetic, needy little thing.
But don’t worry pretty Doe, Alastor’s going to make sure you
satisfied and stuffed to your heart’s content
It was going to be very interesting for the next 36 hours…
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Between the bars (Coriolanus Snow x reader)
AUTHORS NOTE 📝 : yall im so proud of this one i think its my best one yet would you want a part two bc i would be interested please comment and o worked Really really hard on this one especially a little longer than normal got a little carried away.
WARNINGS: pining, my post concussion writing, suggestive but no lemon, hardcore making out, fluff and slight angst w/ coryo family, tried my best for snow to be in character, were basically Lucy gray
My hands wrapped around the cold metal bars of the monkey house where I was enclosed in. I couldn’t sleep no, not a wink so I decided to watch over my district parter. It was cold at night, they didn’t give us any blankets. It’s barbaric the way they treat us, just because we’re district doesn’t mean we’re not human. And just since most of us are going to our death you’d think that we’d be entitled to a least a little dignity.
you’d think….
Suddenly I hear footsteps and peer out the bars of the monkey cage into the empty zoo. Well…..not empty anymore. There approaching me is the one person who has treated me fairly since coming here. He handles me like I was a true lady of the capital.
Coriolanus snow walked up to the bars where I was.
“hello y/n….I’ve brought you something” he hands me an intricate compact “it was my mothers I thought it would remind you of me in the arena and…….” He pauses and looks around though no one is there “there’s poison in it. I know, but only in self defense in that arena your going to things you’re not proud of”
I nod “I understand” I say knowing I’ll have to use it at some point “it’s beautiful…thank you” I run my fingers over the delicate and fancy design.
he smiles. That smile that stupid smirk. When I first met Coriolanus I had to admit I was struck by how attractive he was. Paired with holding out a rose for me to take from his hand and saying that he would take care of me….well it’s enough to have any girl blushing like a fool. I tried my best to keep it together but I knew some of the blush was showing on my face when he held out the rose. Whenever I look at him I get butterflies in my stomach. Little did I know at the time he felt almost the exact same way about me and my appearance when he first saw me. But it was my spirit at the reaping and going foreward that truly made him fall for her. In fact the was one of the things that prompted him to arrive with the rose at the train station. When I was reaped I didn’t cry or scream or anything but….well I sung. I’ve always been a performer at heart and though my song was very short it showed that they couldn’t break my spirit.
now he leans down and brings his face close to mine. Closer than ever before.
“Coryo, I don’t know if I’ll ever see you again…but I wanted to thank you, you’ve treated me well like an equal and that’s rare. If I die in that arena it won’t be your fault-“
“I’m going you out of there y/n. You’re not just a tribute to me. You’re going to survive”he shocks even himself by saying it. He had never spoken about his feelings to y/n. Not even to Tigris. But with the games tomorrow there was no chance other than now. He was enchanted by her beauty and her charm when they first met, her realness. And though it was hard to admit her survival in that arena now meant much more to him than just getting the plinthe prize. He cared about her. Love was a feeling that was all too foreign to the young Coriolanus snow. He had only ever possibly experimented with a girl or two and that was nothing special just a fling. He was an orphan he never knew love from his parents all he had was Tigris, the grandma’m and now y/n.
I let my fingers slip in between the the bars that separated us and caress the side of his soft cheek. Letting myself give in to the temptation that has plagued me ever since we met. His eyes lock onto mine and me gaze at each other for a while lost in our own thoughts. as I stroke his cheek he leans into my touch so heavily as though he has never felt real love in his life. My other hand goes to cup his other cheek from the side so I’m holding his head in my hands now. He looks up at me and I slide one of my hands down to his neck. He was so clearly touch starved, I could see the desperation and hunger in his eyes.
and we’re both wondering the same thing.
is this it? Is this the last time l’ll ever see them?
“Y/n l/n” he breathed like it was a desperate plea.
“coryo…”
and then he leans in close and we are in between the bars. He kisses me at first gently, soft and pure like driven snow. I can smell the roses on him a sweet scent that fills my lungs and takes me away. And we both forget about everything. The arena, the tributes, the fact I might be facing my death tomorrow. Because all I can feel is his lips upon mine. His lips are warm and soft, unlike the cold crisp air around us. We’re almost gasping for air. The kiss turns hot and heavy. More rough as it goes on. Like he was holding back before, now he had given up the fight with control. I gasp as I feel his hand snake around to the back off my head and pulling impossibly closer to him in the kiss. When I gasp he takes advantage of that and and deepens the kiss even further if possible. It was never a fight for dominance he took control. A small groan of pleasure escapes Coriolanus’s lips. I hum in response showing that I’m enjoying it as much as he is. Eventually we break and put our foreheads together.
And there stands Coriolanus snow one of the finest men in the capital, panting uniform messed up, and face as red as a beet. All because of the tribute y/n l/n from district 12. She had more than just affect on him. That was an understatement
not that she was any better…
Our foreheads touching both of us panting for our lives, tomato faced. I gaze once again into those beautiful blue irises that remind me of crystals
“Coryo…I won’t let you down in that arena I’ll survive for us…you’ve given me something to fight for” I breathe out
”and you’ve given me someone to root for. I’ll be waiting for you y/n” he almost whispers the last sentence
#coriolanus x reader#coriolanus snow x reader#coriolanus snow#coriolanus x you#snow x reader#snow x you#coryo snow#coryolanus snow#thg x reader#thg fanfiction#thg#the hunger games#hunger games#tom blyth x reader#the ballad of songbirds and snakes#fanfic writing#fanfic#fanfiction#Coriolanus fanfic#Snow x y/n#coriolanus snow x you#coriolanus snow x y/n#tom blyth
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continued from (x) with @demcnsinmymind
He couldn’t keep his eyes off of the shapeless masses that were still fighting each other all around them, barely unable to tell which one was ‘his’. And the more she talked, the more a part of him couldn’t help but wonder if he was starting to become something similar. Because he certainly had his days when he could barely tell himself apart from it anymore. But then he closed his eyes, gritted his teeth and shook his head angrily. Because no.
He wasn’t like them. He was human. Despite it all, he was still himself. And that mattered the most to him. When she talked about snapping his head, it sent a shiver down his spine. And not just because this was a horrifying thing to hear and picture, but also because just like that, one of the two shapeless masses let go of the other with a maddening roar and went straight for him, trying to reclaim, re-possess and…protect? Claim its territory? Lance didn’t quite know.
And it didn’t really matter anyway because in here it didn’t work. Not after everything she’d done with that ritual of hers, everything she shoved into his skull to try and free him in some way, give him back his control. It went right through him, producing that shiver down his spine, and then went right at the other shadow again when it tried to come at him next. Definitely not a fun sight next to the snapped neck comment.
Taking a deep, shaky breath, Lance took a step back and scanned the hallways around them once more to get a better grip on where to go. And the sheer thought of that basement, of him really having to go there again, actually made him curse.
“Fuck” pressed out through gritted teeth, but the more he looked at those shapeless masses fighting, the more he figured that maybe the memory of that room was gonna be the lesser evil here. So he took all the courage he could gather, and turned on his heels to get going. But not before shooting another final look at her, too.
“Okay. I’ll do it. I’m gonna go look for it now. Are you coming along for this, or am I supposed to do this on my own?”
Kara hadn’t been able to resist the urge to reach out as her shadow passed, a few tendrils lingering even after it returned to that lethal dance. They clung to her fingers as she brought them to rest just above her heart, the thin wisps of darkness helping to ease the empty feeling that had been plaguing her since the entity had manifested itself. It helped her feel a little bit more solid, less like a soul adrift with no anchor, and with that feeling came a slight sigh of relief.
“I should accompany you, just in case you require someone to pull you back to reality…and the anchoring process is one you should ideally be walked through.”
As well it would do her no good to be left alone here, not when it was clearly a manifestation of the other’s consciousness. Who knew how much damage could be caused by a simple miss-step, or if one of the shadowy entities managed to gain the upper hand. It was not a clear-cut scenario, and Kara was not as certain about things as she would like to seem. This was nothing she had ever done before, and while the earlier ritual was nothing too out of her realm of expertise, this was something she had only read about.
“You will have to find a part of your identity that you consider to be solid. For many it is their name, or date of birth, or some other bit of information. For others it is a memory, an item, or even a location. Whatever it is you must find a way to plant it at the heart of this place, and change it to become yours and yours alone. A sort of refuge, or a reminder of who you are. Something that the entity can not touch, no matter how hard it tries.”
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BAYDEN WARDEYN.
Believe it not Bayden didn’t hate Janice. He considered her a friend in this lunatic asylum. Yes, she got a little power play-ish on him because she was the nurse in charge of his well being and they did cross lines in ways in appropriate, but Bayden would cry his eyes out if she ever got fired. She’s the only employee in the place he feels he can turn to. It’s a complicated relationship that shouldn’t exist as it is and a completely fire-able offense. He has no idea what Janice’s relationship is like with Rowan or anyone else. He only knows he’d always used the lady to his advantage until the past year when some of the tables got turned on him. He’s had to make some peace with that.
“That’s pretty close to my motto. I’m down.”
Fail big. He was about it. He was the star of that play. His name was in neon lights for every production.
She shoved him.
Bayden jerked his hand away from the shove instinctually too.
Then she covered up like Bayden was the plague himself and had cooties.
Her voice was sharp and pointed.
Scolding.
It’s fucking dangerous? Since when does Rowan talk like that? It really took Bay aback.
He can’t touch her. He didn’t understand why not. He almost didn’t care why not. All he really knew was the one real friend he had in the whole world just went loco on him and scolded him like he needed to go in the time corner for touching her hair. The one real friend in the world he had left and he wasn’t allowed to make human contact. Of course not. Of course his life would be that shitty.
He begs God for one damn friend in the world and he gets sent mother fucking Rogue from Xmen? What kind of sick joke was that?
He didn’t move for a long time. He just stared off with a scowl on his face. At least that’s how it would appear to Rowan. To Bayden he’d be contemplating the ridiculous misfortune and misery of his existence.
All hope was lost in that moment.
His chest hurt.
His stomach hurt.
Well his secret little fantasy of what all those years of Valentine’s meant just died and got buried six feet under with the horse and all the goo the mutants turned it into.
Her life sucked.
His life sucked.
Life would always fucking suck.
Guess he was still on countdown to see Mr. Cortez and hope for new scheme outta here after all. He wouldn’t be trapped in this asylum if he could trap his soul in the Hotel Cortez instead.
Fuck it.
Bayden had a lot going on inside. He really wasn’t doing well. He got up from the couch in the community room. He didn’t say much back to her. He didn’t even ask why. She wouldn’t talk to him here anyway. He was sick of hearing stupid comments that meant nothing in return.
“No fucking problem. I won’t. Okay, well I’m going to my room now.”
IF there was one thing Celestis knew it was that Bayden was an open book. She could see the way he looked. The emotions expressed from his face && gestured body language. Read between the lines of what he was thinking as he took her by surprise earlier but she didn’t know where that came from. Why?
Two things she noticed about Bayden is that he got under her skin sometimes. Making her feel things when she used to never feel anything. It annoyed her. All Guarded && insecure. All bruises && daisies. How she went out of her way to do things she’d never do. He’s also very weird. However, she can’t say weird was bad on him.
She brushed back the hair he touched as she found herself in a complicated mess. Something that wouldn’t be fixed if she didn’t do something. Tugging at the hood. Feeling flustered && anxious. Two things she didn’t normally feel inside her. Knowing she should keep quiet she should guard herself the best way she knew how. Exhaustion sinking in mingling with the depression as well. She was already screwed with her doctors && therapists . . . She could lie with flying color’s && pass a lie detector test to protect Bayden but she couldn’t lie about herself.
Failing that section of the questions horribly when they came up about herself. There was no going around it as she knew they knew she still believed she was as they diagnosed her ‘delusional’. No matter how well she faked it verbally to them that she was doing better as Rowan. Clever enough to finally tell them what they want to hear but never meaning what comes out of her fake lips. Not anymore. Fuck it. She got on the couch && stood on it making her taller, taking down her hood, cupping her hands over her lips making sure she was loud enough for the entire damned Asylum to hear her!
“First thing you need to know about me is — I don't have PARAn o r m a l experiences. I am a PARAn or m a l experience.”
“Second? My name is CELESTIS DAVENPORT && I have hazel-greenish eyes && I look like some extra in a horrid prepubescent mermaid show that never got popular with some dumb name like Chloe or Cleo t y p e.” No lie there. The way Rowan dresses her own self from Instagram is all gags && garbage.
“Don’t you d a r e turn around I’m not DONE.” She bust out demandingly as if this wasn’t humiliating enough for her. It was easier staring at Bayden’s back while making a freak show case out of herself in a damn Aslyum. Loudly yelling like a lunatic as she was so loud she lowered her hands from her mouth no longer needing it as she caught a lot of attention now.
“I’m no fucking VIRGO ( September 13th ).” Damn right. She didn’t know what the hell she really was constellation wise, but she's sure as h e l l knows she ain’t that one. Always loathing having to say it every damn time she had to tell someone Rowan Delacour’s birthday for medical reasons. Therapy reasons. Reasons. It just felt good in it’s own way just finally saying it out loud then always thinking it.
“But here I am — R o w a n. This brown haired. Brown eyed. Who has annoying brown freckles that happens to be the VIRGO you see. Institutionalized for self-harm, a danger to oneself && obviously others too. OH! && let’s not fucking forget delusions. Since I’m known to have impulsive exchanged mind && personality fantasy's.”
“I’m damn sure I was LOUD enough for the b a c k to hear. Careful might just impulsively exchange delusional fantasy's if not.” Stepping down from the couch in a fierce anger from utter embarrassment. Bending down, && with strength she didn’t have using a little mental power ( telekinesis ) Celestis flipped the couch on it’s side. Kicking it twice. First kick knocked it over clattering to the ground, as the next forced it to drag a couple inches away from her as she had a lot more strength in her legs then her arms ( but she's known to have a really mean left hook ).
Could she body swap into a tortoise now? That sounded heavenly. Desiring to hide in a shell since hoodie’s were not protective enough. Depressed. Frustrated. Feeling like a freak show case. Pulling her hood over her head again. Crossing her arms over her chest, tucking her hands in her crossed arms hiding them, as she’d turn on her heel && storm the opposite direction of Bayden. It was so silent for a moment she could hear her own breathing which made her feel trapped. Fuming.
Was that so hard? YES. All of that. ✔ Yes. Raising her leg up, she’d kick into the crash bar forcing the metal door to swing open aggressively from the force. Walking out as there weren’t many places to escape in this hell hole.
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Tender Love and Care Part 12
Master List
The keep had been quiet for days. A somber film coating everything and everyone in it. The weather perfectly matching with it’s grey and gloomy days. Jaskier had been glued to Geralt’s side since the confession, not wanting to be alone.
Eskel though, Eskel only wanted to be alone.
He’d stayed away from everyone, sitting in his room. Fearful to leave for he would have to pass your room to go anywhere. Afraid that even a fragment of a memory of you would resurface and destroy him all over again.
Even the journal brought no comfort now, because he knew you had touched every page.
You plagued him now. Every blink of the eye you were there. Eskel’s hair was starting to grow longer as they approached mid-winter.
‘You would have loved it’ he thought. You would have insisted on braiding it after a bath. Probably begged him to keep it till spring so you could weave flowers into it.
And he would have done it.
He would have done anything for you.
Eskel wondered where you were now. If you were reminiscing with old friend or your parents? If you had told them yet or if—like you had with them—you planned to hold out till the bitter end and then slip off into the night.
Eskel tried and tried to stop the train of thought but his mind persisted.
‘She would want to go under the stars, so the last thing she sees is the great beyond.’
Eskel’s feet moved of there own accord as he stood by the window. Looking up, the clouds had given way to clear the sky. The sky bright and alive with little twinkling lights. He wondered if they were the same stars. If out there somewhere you were watching the same sky he was and thinking of him. If you were missing him as much as he was missing you.
The sound of the door creaking open piqued Eskel’s interest. Jaskier was stood in the doorway, a small tray of food held in his hands.
“You uhh, you haven’t come down for food in a while so i…” Jaskier looked awkwardly around the room, shuffling his feet slightly before gesturing the tray towards him.
Eskel looked at the floor, a sad sighs echoing across the room.
“You should hate me. Why are you doing this?”
“You forget that I’ve known you for a while Eskel, I know….” Jaskier took a deep breath looking at Eskel’s turned back.
“I know you never intended this. And….. my sister loves you, that equates to something in my book”
Eskel sat down on the floor eyes training back up to look at the stars. Jaskier softly trotted over to him. Sitting next to him, the tray in front of them. Jaskier followed Eskel’s gaze to the stars.
“I would give anything, absolutely anything, if I could just run through the sky right now to be by her side. I’d run and run and I’d grab some stars to put in her hair.” Eskel’s eyes shone with unshed tears. The glassiness shining the night sky in it’s reflection.
“Keep going like that and you’ll put my poems to shame.” Both men chuckled dryly at the comment.
“Why don’t you go home to her?” Eskel finally looked at Jaskier, curiosity in his eyes.
“I can’t. I’m much more human than she. I’d need a fairy ring to return home. There is one in the forest here, but I could never hope to find it in the snow.” Jaskier took a breath, letting his head fall slightly.
“I just pray she makes it till the snow clears”
“Jaskier.” Eskel waited for the other man to pick his head up before continuing.
“When you go…. Will you take me with you?”
“I would…. But I don’t know how, or if I’m even capable of doing so.” Jaskier looked dejected.
“I can manage the circle myself but without some sort of pack or link between the two of you. Without you being marked as hers. The portal would open you up to any fae that was listening.”
“But were mated-“
“Fae don’t have presentations or mates, bonds like that don’t work.” The bard took in a breath.
“That’s why y/n had to leave you know. Having a presentation put a high price on her head. If she had stayed, she would have never been able to have a normal life. I was too young to remember the much of it but the castle staff told me our parents died a little the day she left.”
A tear fell down Jaskier’s face as Eskel chimed in.
“I truly am sorry Jasker, if I could do it over, if I could change what happened I would.”
Jaskier nodded and a small “I know” escaped his lips as he dried his eyes.
The two mourned together as the sun slowly rose over the horizon.
~
After there chat Jaskier became glued to Eskel’s side rather than Geralt’s. The two slowly building trust in one another again. Jaskier forced Eskel to leave his room and interact with everyone once again. His brothers gave him pitiful looks and Eskel hated it. Hated that he felt so weak, so powerless.
Jaskier began to open more and more about y/n and his life. What they could and couldn’t do. How they were raised. It became common for everyone to stay after dinner to listen to Jaskier tell them all stories they had never heard before. That night it was Lambert that initiated the stories.
“So if you can just jump in a fairy ring and go anywhere you want from it, why can’t we just jump in behind you and follow you out?”
“I can control where I go, even if I couldn’t any Fae that caught me would know I was one of them and would let me go. You though, you would be at the mercy of whoever happened to be listening for someone to step into a portal and believe me there are many who do that. Once they found you they would take you back to there court. The only way one of you could follow me would be if I was able to mark you as mine.”
“Kinky” Jaskier let out a snort at Lambert’s comment. Geralt and Vesemir both rolled there eyes. Eskel stayed silent.
“You’re thinking too terrestrial I’m afraid. Less sex and more a pact or a bet. Then you would be marked as someone’s and all other Fae would know to stay away. The ring would then take you too who marked you… or at least the closest ring to whoever marked you.”
Everyone sat in the explanation for a moment, Lambert’s eyebrows furrowing slightly with another question.
“When someone makes a pact, do they feel it?”
“The Fae does but to my knowledge the human does not, part of the reason it’s tied in with deception and trickery I suppose. You signed up for something and you never even knew it.”
Lambert stared hard at the table a moment before his eyes went wide.
“holy shit” he whispered. All occupants at the table looked at Lambert as his tone rose gradually.
“Holy Shit….. Holy Shit!” Lambert stood up abruptly his hands put out in front of him like he was preparing for an attack.
“What’s wrong?” Vesemir asked.
Lambert snapped and pointed at the older man.
“Do you remember when y/n first came here and I was complaining that she was acting like a bitch.”
“Hey!” both Eskel and Jaskier pipped up in unison.
“I remember yes” Vesemir said, his intrigue holding back the sigh in his tone.
“Well the reason for that was because she was acting all funny about telling me her name. Giving me this ‘you first’ junk” Lambert was wild as he spoke. Geralt caught on to what his younger brother was getting at.
“You gave her your name? Lambert that’s beginner level Fae do’s and don’ts” The scolding didn’t phase Lamberts enthusiasm however.
“That would make me marked by her right? So if I followed Jaskier it would take us both to her?” Lambert turned to Jaskier expectantly. The whole ordeal had gone by to quick for the bard but after a moment he caught up.
“Umm yes, yes absolutely it would. Having someones name and eating fae food are the two usually suspects for being marked.”
Lambert violently sat down all eye toward Jaskier.
“What do you mean by fae food?” The intensity of the gaze slightly off putting. Everyone at the table sitting in confusion except for Lambert.
“uhhh like food from the fae, something they either grow or make with intent for someone. Like if you ate a meal that was made for everyone that happened to be cooked by a fae that wouldn’t count but if a fae made you something specifically then that would be considered fae food. Get it?”
“Does it work if it was meant for a small group of people specifically?”
“Eh I don’t know Lambert what are you on about?” Lambert shot off to the kitchen quickly while everyone looked around at each other in bewilderment.
Lambert came back quickly holding a basket wrapped in a cloth.
“The day this whole shitshow started, sorry Eskel” Eskel shrugged in response, more focused on the basket in Lambert’s hands.
“Y/n made cookies for us, said she wanted us down in the basement to have something nice to smell while we worked. It’s part of what made me talk to Eskel about her in the first place.”
“Umm Lambert we didn’t get any cookies.” Geralt side eyed Lambert, fearing his brother may very well had gone insane.
“I know I hid them” A swift swat was delivered to the back of Lamberts head by Vesemir.
“I deserve that. But anyway look” He unwrapped the basket to show the collection of sweets still relatively fresh.
“I still have them, if we eat them, we would all be marked by y/n, we could all go and see her.” Everyone looked expectantly at Jaskier.
“I’m not sure, I don’t know how everything works with small details like this. It’s a huge risk.”
Eskel stood and reached for the basket.
“If there is any chance of being able to see her again I’ll take it.”
Everyone else followed suit to reach toward the confectionary.
~
The forest was calm and serene but foreign to the young girl as she walked. A young fae no more than 14 or 15 walking alone on it’s paths. She clutched a small bag to her chest each small rustle or noise causing her to jump. The little girl across a river, much too deep or wide for her to cross. She wadded her feet in. Kneeling to touch the water with her hands. The cool flow soother her slightly, but only reminding her of the finality of her walk. There would be no going back home. There would be no more comfort. No father hug she could bury her face into and no mother touch to run over her hair. Little drop of water joined there brothers and the girl was bent over crying.
A rumble from the ground shook her out of her stupor as the very ground beneath her feet started to move. The dirt seizing up and rolling like a log with her on top of it. She stuck her arms out to balance herself. Fighting a losing battle to stay upright. As the girl toppled over the ground melded back once more and she was thrust into someone.
As the girl gained her bearings, she found she was in the arms of a woman. A mighty woman, large and boisterous. Her hair reached down to the ground and seemed to meld with the very earth itself. Moss growing up it to give the appearance as if the woman herself had sprung up from the very earth.
“It’s alright y/n, don’t be scared.” Her voice, her whole presence was filled with warmth and the girl felt all fear she may have had melt away.
“Who are you? How do you know my name?”
“I am Melitele and I know all of my daughters’ names.”
“but I’m not your daughter?” The girl stood perplexed, brows furrowed and eyes curious.
“Every person born here is my child and when you stepped into this realm” The woman knelt down to be closer to eye level with the girl. “You became one too”.
“You are very special Y/n, do you know that?” The girl nodded.
“I’m omega”
“No my dear, you are the child of two different worlds. The bearing of fruit from the convergence of two different planes. I don’t get to see many beings like you here. It’s an honor to meet you.” She gave the girl a smile that was quickly returned.
“Thank you” the little girl looked down at her hands, wringing them. The woman grabbed her hands gentle holding them with care.
“Y/n would you allow me the honor of helping you make my home yours as well.”
The girl smiled and enthusiastically nodded. The two walked hand in hand through the forest. The sounds of nature quickly turning to that of music in the girl’s ears.
~
The memory tapered off as you began to wake up. Eye’s still closed unable to face the day just yet. You were never sure if that encounter had been a dream in your head or not. It seemed too fantastical. Yet everything had felt so real when it had happened back then. The weight of her hands, the smell of fresh dirt and greenery, the way she had smiled at you all those years ago. The way you still thought you felt her at your side when you walked in the forest. If she was just a mother figure you’re brain had conjured to help in an uncertain situation, you were grateful nonetheless. Though seeing your birth mother again almost rivaled that encounter.
She had rushed to you, after making sure you were not a figment of her imagination. Everything still felt the same. The rough tile of the throne room, the slight smell of hay and ale, the breeze that carried through the castles many windows.
The reunion had been ruined however by a fit of coughing. You mother had held your face in her hands and you couldn’t take it. You cried and spilled everything. The years of flirtation the heat the argument everything. She had sat with you on the stone floor as you had buried your head on her lap. Not wanting to face the inevitable just yet, nor wanting to see the tears in her eyes you knew were there.
After some rest and a much-needed lunch you had inquired about your father. He was away on trip to meet with other high fae counsel and was not projected to be back for quiet some time. Your mother had sent word while you had rested to him that he needed to come back urgently. She begged the bird would reach him swiftly.
After that initial confession neither of you talked about your condition. Fits of coughing, hacking or weakness would go unacknowledged. You two spent the time avoiding the problem by catching up. You told her of Julian, how you had seen him again and that he was doing well for himself. She talked of old friends and small moments that had happened recently. You spent most of your free time in the garden. Sketching the blooms or birds, being able to sit and rest your ever fatigued form.
Your mother secretly watched you from the sidelines, struggling as you faded more and more each day. You soon became unable to walk. You had taken it in stride. Using a chair with wheels to get around the castle. When your strength had diminished to where you couldn’t wheel yourself, a castle attendant aided you. The coughing only got worse and you shook all the time it seemed.
You didn’t want to open your eyes to start the day just yet. If you kept them closed, you could pretend none of this was happening. That you weren’t growing thin and that you veins weren’t turning black under your skin. You could pretend that you were back at Kaer Morhen. That Eskel wasn’t in bed because he was fixing a tray for the both of you to share. A nice quiet breakfast in bed. You would keep your eyes closed when he walked in even though he knew you were awake. And he would wake you with a kiss and a “time to open your eyes my sweet girl”
Tears streamed down your still closed eyes. That would never happen. He didn’t want you anymore. You were alone in your room and the love of your life was not coming.
Your father was though. He had sent back that he was traveling home immediately. He was projected to come back today. The thought of seeing his face again gave you the motivation to open your eyes and start the day.
But you saw nothing.
You blinked but your vision did not clear. You reached your hand to your face and there was nothing obstructing your vision. Nothing over your eyes.
You rested you hand on your chest and stared blankly ahead, no image to greet you.
You wished the darkness that surrounded you would at least have stars.
Taglist :D
@writingmysanity @ab-haya @just-a-sad-donut @seidenbros @deliciousblackfatcat @bushtail
#eskel my beloved#alaska writes#eskel x reader#abo au#alpha/beta/omega verse#tw: angst#oof#hey you read the tags!#vibe for the keep section of this chapter is sound the bugle from the Spirit: Stallion of the Cimarron soundtrack#vibe for the melitele section is mama will provide from Once on this Island#the original one from 1990#sorry i don't make the rules
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Saturnine. Yan Chrollo x Reader [SMUT]
Tags/warnings: Dubcon, oral sex, creampie, my brain melting, condescending ???, Chrollo always has smth to say
Word count: 2.2k.
Note: it is finally done .
When gazing into the mirror, it should be easy to recognize the reflection staring back as your own. It’s the sight you’ve seen your entire life. Maybe the light in your eyes is less noticeable and your smiles no longer appear genuine, but in the end, it still physically bears your image.
You shiver at the chilly air kissing your bare skin, goosebumps erupting at the lack of clothing. Thin fabric clings tightly around your body, sheer and intricate in its lace design, yet astonishingly soft to the touch. It accentuates the swell of your chest, the black as midnight fabric stopping just shy above your midriff. A matching thong connects to sheer thigh highs through a garter belt to complete the set. Never in your life can you recall wearing such a lascivious outfit. Nor did you think you’d ever wear one for him.
Covering your exposed cleavage with your arms, you lower your head, fingernails pressing so harshly against your skin that it hurts. The pain serves to ground you in reality, proof that this is happening and not a dream.
“Did I… do this right?” You murmur, not used to how Chrollo is wordlessly assessing your trembling figure. Normally the air is full of conversation, equal parts rigid and provocative, a verbal game you’ve been forced to navigate. You still prefer the mind games over this maddening silence. You’re convinced he can hear the way your heart pounds viciously as if it was attempting to free itself from your body altogether, the current stress it’s under too much to withstand.
Chrollo moves a step closer and you take a deep, shaky breath. Grey eyes rake over your body, like a predator monitoring its prey, inspecting every inch of you. He spreads his fingers against your stomach, coarse fingers gliding over your skin, gradually moving upwards.
“Mm. You did perfectly.” His voice is rich and husky against your ear, spoken lowly so that only you may hear it. When his fingers reach their intended target, he cups your chest and lays his head on your shoulder. You watch his actions in the reflection of the mirror, glossy lips parting but no words managing to form on your tongue. Emotions swirl within you like an unrelenting vortex. Repulsion. Frustration. Shame. That it came to this, lowering yourself to a level you never wanted to be reduced to.
While you ruminate in your misery, Chrollo presses featherlight kisses from the crook of your neck to your jaw. His lips are soft and well taken care of, curling into a smile at how your pulse quickens. There are numerous mysterious surrounding Chrollo, but you do not doubt that he’s enjoying himself now. Your attention is brought back to his hands on your chest and how he kneads them. A blush ignites when you feel something hard press brush your ass, already guessing what it is.
“S-so you’re going to,” you struggle to get out, releasing a gasp when he suddenly pinches your nipple, “Keep… keep your promise, right?”
The clarification is for your peace of mind. An internal justification is necessary to continue with this illicit act, doubts plaguing your mind. You feel his chest rumble against your back, a deep chuckle leaving him. Regret comes swiftly, knowing that anytime you speak to Chrollo his responses sting deep, piercing your skin and festering.
One of his hands comes to your jaw, tilting your head back to look at him. The proximity has your eyes wide as a doe, his warm breath fanning against your face, dark tresses of hair tickling your face. His grip is tight but not painful. A not so subtle reminder of the Phantom Troupe leader’s innate strength, that goes beyond any measurement your mind could conjure up. Your squeeze your eyes shut when he leans forward, pressing a chaste kiss to the edge of your lips.
“What if I don’t?” Chrollo’s question has you frowning, eyelids fluttering open so you can shoot him a glare. He stares back unfazed, amusement visible from his closed mouth smile and relaxed posture, clearly not feeling intimidated by your little show. You decide to give it some thought, knowing he’ll scrutinize your response if not chosen carefully. Though, it’s admittedly difficult to concentrate when your face is burning up and his hand is still groping your chest.
Swallowing thickly, you arrive at a half-decent comeback. “I’ll… I’ll hate you.”
It sounded far better in your head.
Chrollo raises an eyebrow at your rebuttal but decides to entertain it. “Don’t you already?”
“I’ll hate you even more,” comes your reply, stumbling out before you could think it over. Luckily, or maybe unluckily, he doesn’t take visible offense. Instead, the bastard laughs again. Affectionately, Chrollo brushes his knuckles over your cheek, mirth dancing in his eyes.
“Even more, huh,” he hums, your nonsensical ramblings sounding worse when repeated back. “If that’s the threat I’m contending with, then I’ll be sure to stick to my word.”
You’re not exactly reassured by this, but decide to leave it for now. Suddenly, Chrollo steps back, freeing you from his grip. Before you can ask about what he’s doing, his hands start loosening his belt. Ah. So the time for negotiating is over. His dress pants fall, revealing a prominent bulge pushing against his briefs.
“Now get on your knees for me.”
It wasn’t a request. You do as he says, hyper-aware of how he’s staring at you, the tile from your shared master bedroom cold against your shins. To save what little modesty you have remaining, you readjust your bra so your chest no longer threatens to spill out. Heartbeat picking up in pace, you lift a shaky hand, palming his crotch through the fabric.
The muscles in his thighs tighten, yet every other aspect of him remains thoroughly composed. Playing with the waistband, you slowly pull it down, revealing Chrollo’s half-hard member. It’s long, around six inches when erect, with a prominent vein that you’ve learned is rather sensitive. Precum is already leaking from the head, a sight that worsens the blush on your face.
Chrollo runs his hands through your hair, a quiet sigh leaving his lips. You pick up on the unspoken encouragement to not keep him waiting. Readjusting yourself into a more comfortable position, you take his dick fully into your hands, giving it a tentative stroke to test the waters. No verbal response. He’s excellent at maintaining his composure, creepy as it may be. Pumping his cock from the base, you bow your head down, eyelids fluttering shut as you kiss and lick the tip. That earns you a sharp inhale and a tightened grip but nothing else. Wetting your lips with your tongue, you continue licking the tip while jerking him off, noting that his cum has a slight salty taste to it.
Now that your confidence has somewhat been built up, you part your lips to take more of him in, getting adjusted to his size. Chrollo lets out a shaky exhale, fingers curling deeper into your hair. It’s difficult to get into a solid rhythm as your anxiety is unrelenting. Being so vulnerable in front of a person whose hands, which are now intertwined with your hair, have slaughtered countless people.
He could do the same to you at any time, you think, despite his insistence for not wanting to. Hollowing out your cheeks, you manage to take more of him in, stopping just shy as not to activate your gag reflex. It makes your stomach churn when he lovingly strokes your cheek, looking down at you with eyes glazed over with crazed lust. Of course, he wouldn’t make this easy on you and act different — he continues with the delusion that this is love.
“Eager, now are we?” Chrollo laughs breathlessly. You decide to ignore the comment, too focused on having him finish so you can move on with your night. The low groans and whispers of your name are starting to affect you, a factor that only adds to your shame.. Pangs of heat are building up in between your legs, which you subconsciously rub together in a feeble attempt to relieve yourself. Chrollo quietly groans, content at the sight, dick twitching in your mouth. You wish he hadn’t noticed just how turned on you’re growing — not that you’re surprised with how unfairly observant he is — fully prepared for more scathing comments.
“I’m glad you stopped being so stubborn,” he pushes himself deeper into your mouth, gripping your head tightly enough not to let you move away, “So I can finally have my way with you.”
You wince at how he forces his dick down your throat, tears stinging the corners of your eyes and lungs screaming for air. Chrollo drinks in the sight, shuddering, bucking his hips, and pulling your face as tight against him as he can. You figure his release is getting closer from how erratic his movements are growing. At least it’ll be over soon. This line of thought is interrupted as he pulls away, saliva and cum connecting your mouth to his dick in a thin line, which has you frowning. Relishing the opportunity to regain yourself, your lungs greedily gulp in air, and you cough from his previous actions.
Chrollo extends a hand out to you which you hesitantly accept. The more human side is starting to show, his skin sheening with sweat, bare chest heaving for air much like yours, and black tresses sticking to the sides of his face. Your lips part, intending to ask why he stopped. He places both his just hands below your ass, hoisting you up as if you weighed nothing. Yelping, you struggle and cling to him as not to fall, eyes wide with confusion.
“W-what—”
“Wrap your legs around me,” he presses a chaste kiss to your forehead and you do as he says, scared that you’ll fall otherwise. “Mm. Good girl.”
Chrollo carries you over to the wall, your back pressing against the hard surface and feeling its coolness on your bare skin. After thinking about it for a moment, you understand what it is he intends to do next, tightening your grip around him. He positions the head of his cock against your opening, smiling at how wet you are. At least he’s too focused to comment on your current state. You look to the side, not wanting to see the pleased expression you know is on his face.
“I’ll take care of you after,” Chrollo promises, slowly pushing himself inside you. You take a deep breath, gripping his shoulders tightly, fingernails digging into his skin. At least he’s allowing you to adjust. You yelp when he grabs a fistful of your hair, tugging it so that you look him dead in the eye. “You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hm?”
A half-choked out moan leaves your lips as he fills you, feeling his sizeable length stretching you out.
“Y-yes,” You pant, carnal desire outweighing any solid reasoning at the moment. Chrollo continues to pound relentlessly into your cunt, burying his face in your neck. He’s coming undone, fucking you with a strength that has you breathless. You catch occasional guttural groans of your name and don’t want to admit how nice it sounds.
“I always knew you’d come around.”
The sound of skin on skin fills the room, mixed in with his grunts and your moans. Squeezing your ass, his thrusts grow erratic, before he finally stills. Chrollo releases deep inside you, pulling you down onto him, hot ropes of cum filling you and seeping out.
He grits his teeth, shuddering at his release. All is still for a moment aside from your heavy chests. Chrollo gathers himself before you do, slowly pulling himself out. You feel his cum as it drips out of you and bite your lip at the possible implications. Everything is so warm and your body feels terribly sore, having to clutch onto him for stability when he puts you back down. Chrollo doesn’t seem to mind this, laughing as he runs his hands through your mousled hair.
“How precious.”
You yelp when he picks you up, bridal style this time, your face pressing against his chest.
“It looks like you needed some help there, dear.” Chrollo hums, placing you down onto the bed with a gentleness you weren’t used to. There’s no way any normal human could be this collected already. Taking deep breaths, you attempt to calm yourself, not wanting to be completely undone before him. Chrollo watches with intrigue while you do so, his eyes piercing through your trembling body. When you finally manage to get your breathing steady, he gently pushes your shoulders down and spreads your legs.
“Now, about that promise of mine,” he presses open-mouthed kisses from your ankle to your thighs, “I intend to keep it. We’ll keep going until you’re no longer able to stand.”
#chrollo lucilfer#chrollo x reader#chrollo imagine#chrollo lucilfer imagine#chrollo#yandere chrollo#yandere chrollo x reader#yandere chrollo lucilfer#yandere#yandere x reader#not sfw#tw: dubcon#yandere hunter x hunter#hunter x hunter imagine#hxh x reader#yandere hxh x reader#my stuff
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Winter Makes Ice (Ep.7)
Summary: you’re captured after a brawl at the Avengers building, Bucky and others must save you before Hydra makes a new Winter Soldier out of you, Bucky has given up that title
Words: 3412
Episode: seven
Warning: PTSD, vomiting
Masterlist!
Winter Makes Ice
Episode: Six
Time: 8:01am
Date: October 7th 2024
Were you running late?
Yes.
Your final appointment with Bruce was today and it was scheduled for 8:00 in the morning, you had set your alarm with enough time to get there but Bucky had other plans. While you were getting up Bucky snaked his metal arm around you, he knew you couldn’t break out of it, he pulled you back in his chest so you could stay for a little longer but you managed to bribe him after giving a few kisses down his neck. As you sucked his hand relaxed and when he didn’t see it coming and you snuck out to your bathroom to get ready for the day, you knew he was too tired to get up and pull you back.
The surgery for both your nose and removing the serum went without a hitch, though you did have a panic attack a day later because it seemed too good to be true for you, everything else went fine. Bruce managed to take samples of your skin and make them into cartilage for your nose, it took a couple days for it to marry and accept your face, it would turn really red and then lose all colour in a matter of minutes. The serum removal took longer than expected, and it turns out what Bruce’s lab was creating wasn’t what he was expecting. The antibiotic would actually get into your bloodstream and split the serum from the red blood cells, but it wouldn’t remove them, the serum would still circulate in your body but just next to the red blood cells.
A heart-lung by-pass machine was used while you were sedated, you could have been awake but seeing your blood fill a tube and then go back into you while a bag filled with blue liquid was just extra trauma you didn’t want to see. There were always complications with being sedated, but Bucky supported you no matter what. You weren’t left feeling sick after but like you hadn’t slept in days, you found there was a difference between waking up from passing out like you did in the cell and just lack of sleep, Bucky had looked at you quizzically when you said it randomly, but you couldn’t seem to explain.
You still get headaches from time to time, it normally comes from that same spot in the back of your head and high on your neck, you’d feel around for a scab or scar but would find nothing. There was a bump when you’d checked recently but it seemed as though it was a goose egg form getting hit, but that was so long ago. You didn’t talk about your bump much because you thought people would look at you crazy, some people already did; while others looked at you like you were a ghost.
As you walked to Banner's lab an agent stopped talking to her friend to look you up and down, and hand came to cover her mouth but you saw the smirk in her eyes. You just shrugged and turned into the lab.
“You’re late,” Bruce said, he was sat on his stool with everything in hand, clipboard and pen at the ready.
“Sorry,” you smiled and sat down.
Bruce began to do the checks, he got good at hiding that he was taking blood, he’d point across the room to show a floating hologram of all your vitals and while you were reading over them he’d quickly stick the needle in to draw a bit of blood.
He did the same except he pinched your thigh as he stuck in the needle point to make your attention go to your leg instead of the inside of your elbow.
“Ow!” you slapped his hand away, “I’m used to it by now, and I also trust you and know you’re not trying to stick a foreign serum into me.'' You shook your head and read the file that was left open, “I can’t believe it’s my last test,” you sighed and leaned back in the chair.
The whirl of the centrifuge wasn’t too loud, Bruce stood beside it with one arm holding his weight on the desk. He watched as you looked over the file again and again, your finger would trace the words and slowly find their way to the corner of the page to flip. The further you got into the file the further back you went, Bruce noticed you tend to stay on your injury report page a bit longer than the others, you’d study the little picture of a person and all the ‘X’s that were drawn where you got hurt; you could barely see the human drawing underneath. He’d watch as you read over every description of the injuries you’ve gotten, one time he asked why and you looked at him and said.
“Because I go over how to fix each injury, so when I go back into the field I can stay on my toes.”
But he knew you were just tired of feeling like you weren’t helping when in reality you prompted a medical breakthrough, not everyone gets infected by a mind controlling serum, but the new use of a heart-lung by-pass was being looked at by hospitals.
Bruce took the blood out of the centrifuge and looked into the vial, there was no trace of blue like there was the first time he did it, just plasma and blood. You were still reading and he knew you’d pass his test so instead of telling you he was starting the evaluation, he just did it.
“Close that book.” He lowered his voice which sent a boom through the lab.
You didn’t close it but it did scare you for a second, a little jump but you went right back to reading. You weren’t trying to be mean by not listening but you had to show that you wouldn’t follow orders but rather respond like a normal human, the first day you flinched for the stool when Bruce asked you to walk it over to him but after that you tended to act like he wasn’t in the room.
“Stand up.” he barked.
You looked over to him, “no thanks,” you smiled, Bruce smiled back.
“Can you stand for a second, please?” Bruce squinted and leaned back on the desk, he was challenging how you’d react to an indirect command, it was an offer rather than a command.
“I don't know, can I?” You tilted your head to the side, a wide smile was being suppressed by a terrible poker face.
“May you please stand?” Bruce walked over with a proud smile on his face, he was no longer challenging you.
You just laughed and stood, “only because you asked so nicely,” you let your teeth flash while you both laughed. “Why did you choose standing? That’s like, day one stuff,” you sighed from laughing and closed the file.
“Because I want to hug you,” he opened his arms wide, “to congratulate you. Now give me a hug, that’s an order!” he giggled but laughed even more when you pretended to scope him out, “just kidding, come ‘ere, kid.”
You fell into a hug and wrapped your arms tightly around him, Bruce did the same. It was quick but it meant the world. “Thanks for everything, Bruce.” You smiled as you walked out of the room, “I mean it, you really helped me out.”
“Don't mention it, you’re free!” he opened his arms wide to shew you out of his lab.
You walked out and closed the door behind you, you only took a few steps before staring off into the distance. “I guess I am…” you muttered to yourself before continuing to walk back to your room.
As you walked you didn’t even see Bucky in the kitchen “doll!” he called and you turned instantly, “breakfast?” he tilted the frying pan over so you could see french toast.
Your eating and sleeping were the only things that didn’t seem to get better, nightmares plagued you every night and you could barely stomach a workout smoothie. Bucky would try his best to get you to eat but he typically ate your leftovers instead of making a meal for himself, it was hard to watch because you weren’t gaining weight and he still felt guilty when he’d touch your back and feel every ridge.
“I’ll have a bit,” you smiled and walked over, “I’m a free bird now.” you commented as he slipped the bread on your plate.
“Way to go, babe, I knew you could do it.” He scrunched his nose and took the stool beside you, “eat slow and as much as you want, no worries.” He kissed your temple before pulling out his phone.
You slowly started to eat, you put the corner of the bread in your mouth and chewed slowly. The sweetness and the flavour was still overpowering, you weren’t used to this much intensity and it only made you feel nauseous. As much as Bucky acted like he wasn’t paying attention you could see his eyes look over as far as he can to gauge your reaction, when you’d catch him looking he’d just cough and look forward. You only got four bites in before turning your nose up and pushing the plate to Bucky. He didn’t want to seem disappointed but he was, not in you but rather himself, nothing was working.
“What do you think you can eat?” He asked softly.
“Plain yogurt?” you questioned.
“I’ll give anything a shot,” he breathed and stood. The yogurt was far back in the fridge but he found it eventually, he poured a little bowl, “you want granola?” he asked.
“Just yogurt,” she sheepishly replied, a thin line formed on your lips.
He served it up and went back to eating the french toast, you scooped it up and took a spoonful. It was so plain and boring, nothing tingled on your taste buds. There was no category for it, it wasn't sweet or sour, it wasn’t savoury; it was just plain. The metallic taste from the spoon had more power than the yogurt itself. Nothing to chew, no berries or granola.
It was perfect.
In no time you scarfed it down, the spoon clicked on the bowl as you scraped for the ends of it. Bucky had been cooking your favourite foods to make you feel at home, you liked spice and sweetness normally. You’d turn down yogurt a month ago if it didn’t have your favourite granola in it, but what both you and Bucky didn’t realize was that you started with crazy flavours instead of the basics. Butter and bread, plain crackers, and maybe some almonds sounded great right now.
Bucky looked over in shock to see you done with your food, he watched as you went to the pantry and pulled out some unsalted crackers. You plopped a few into your mouth and just waited to see if your body would reject it, but it didn’t.
“Guess I went too fast, too soon, huh?” he let out an unhappy laugh, “you could’ve been eating for a while…” he muttered and stood. He was exhausted, the darker circles under his eyes and the flatness of his skin didn’t go unnoticed. You woke up every night screaming and thrashing around in the bed, the sheets would be piled on the floor from your arms swinging around. As much as Bucky wanted some sleep, he knew for a fact that you’d been in disposition before, you’d been the one to gently ease him out of a nightmare for three weeks straight.
“You did your best and I love you for it,” You smiled and leaned across the counter to kiss his lips, he sat back down again, “I would have done the same thing, if it makes you feel better.”
Bucky just rubbed his face and looked up to you, “how?” was all he asked.
“How...what?” you giggled, but Bucky didn’t crack a smile.
“Why are you so upbeat right now, I get it you finished your tests with Banner but, god, I don’t know how you’re so happy?” He didn’t sound angry but more in disbelief, if it were him, Bucky knew he’d be curled into a ball in the middle of the bed for days, there wouldn’t be anything to make him happy.
You just sighed and sat down next to him again, “I’m not upbeat right now, if I’m being honest,” you looked forward and the sleek grey cupboards, “I can’t train because my stitches will fall out, I can’t run for the same reason. Half of the team treats me like fine china while the other half still punches me in the arm when they tell a funny joke, if I’m hanging out with Steve he will ask if I’m okay after every little thing while Tony doesn’t seem to understand that I don’t like sneak attacks anymore.” You wiped down your face with both hands, “my head still hurts like crazy, especially in that one spot in the back, everyone is too loud and I’ve been called ‘too quiet’ too many times for me to count.” You finally looked over to Bucky who had the saddest eyes, his lips curled down as he scanned over you, “you’re the only one who I can be, somewhat, happy around because you get it. Yes, you can be very cautious but you’ve backed off when I’ve said no and you’ve learned not to push when I can’t remember much. Bucky,” you cupped his face with one hand, you could feel him push into it, “you see me happy around you because you’re the only one who knows how to put a smile on my face right now, and I’m so happy it’s you.” Before he could say anything you pulled him in for a kiss, he hummed into it and reached up to place his hand over yours; it was still resting on his stubbled cheek.
“I didn’t know I was doing all that right, I thought I was failing.” Bucky muttered against your lips, you could feel the sadness in his voice.
“I still can’t lift my arm up all the way without it hurting, you wash my hair and put it in the clip when I ask, you might not have figured that food out or my nightmares but you do the little things, and that’s what makes it better.” Bucky’s arms moved down to hold you at your waist, you were still close. All he could do was smile, the kind of smile you use when you get a prize for a thing you really didn’t think mattered or when you’re embarrassed of how you fell in front of everyone; his lips turned down but his eyes smiled.
The rest of your morning flowed into your afternoon easily, you’d spent some time just lounging in the bed and keeping each other warm. Little make-out session might brew but nothing went too far, it wouldn’t for a while and you both agreed on that. At one point you fell asleep curled up against Bucky’s chest, he stayed still and when it came time, he helped you out of your nightmare. The little kisses littered your face until you were calm again, he didn’t dare to fall asleep at this point because he knew you would too and being woken up by twitches and little pleads for help weren’t something he enjoyed for his own mental health.
Time: 9:30pm
Date: October 7th 2024
Everyone filed into the cinema room for movie night, this was your first one since you came back. Bucky had tried to talk you out of it due to it being October and a horror movie was on the list, apparently it was a early 2000’s slasher, basically the worst movie to come back to. You were done with hiding away from the team, you wanted to see them again, scary movies didn’t bother you before because you knew they were just movies and alien killers weren’t real, you really didn’t know how much could change now.
There was a bowl of popcorn for you and Bucky, you sat in the corner so you were nestled into the armrest and the back pillow, Bucky was on your left, cautiously watching you as Nat queued up the movie.
“I now present,” she held her arms in front of the screen, “Camp Blood!” The movie faded in from black and a hush fell over the team. People snuggled deeping into their blankets and got ready for the movie, you just leaned your head on Bucky’s shoulder and threw a few pieces of popcorn- without butter -in your mouth.
Not even a half an hour later you were really shaken up, the gore and the blood had slowly broken down your walls and gotten to your head. You had hid it so well Bucky genuinely had no idea even though he was checking in on you after every kill, a little kiss to your temple before a double check.
“I have to pee,” you whispered to Bucky and left the room.
You sprinted down and to the back where there was a door to the outside, the air was suffocating and you couldn’t breathe. It seemed everything you could remember was flashing in your mind all at once while new memories were coming into play, it was all so overwhelming and you couldn’t handle it. You pushed the door open and stumbled to your knees and the cold fall weather opened your lungs so wide you thought they were going to pop, the gasps came out unevenly and some were quick shots of air. Your hand was pulling and scratching at the finally held bruise on your neck, it was like you could feel the chains slowly wrapping around you like a snake's tail, coming up around your neck and squeezing tightly.
With one push, the chains in your mind snapped and all the popcorn you had eaten came back out, right onto the deck that was power washed three days ago. A few pieces of kernels got stuck when you took your first breath in but after spitting them out you could finally breathe again.
You sat back up on your feet and just looked into the night sky, it was too cold for you to be out here but it was peaceful. With the serum you would have been fine with this weather but that had left you, you were free now, if you wanted you could run down the grass into the forest and never see anyone ever again. It was horrifying that that idea was pleasant to you, you’d never see Bucky ever again but you could be free.
One foot hit the grass, but then the sound of a lock pulled you from your fantasy, you looked over your shoulder to see the lights off and the red emergency lights spinning around. You ran up to bang on the door but no one could see or hear you, “let me on!” you screamed for anyone but you knew these glass doors were sound proof. “Fuck!”
“Soldat,” you froze, the voice you remembered vividly rang through your head, you shook it off and kept pounding on the door, “they’re never going to help you,” it chanted in your mind.
“No, let me in!” you screamed again, your head hit the glass door in defeat, the voice mocked you in your brain. You pulled away from the glass and looked into the building, but then your focal point focused on the reflection.
“Soldat, break in and kill them all.” the voice said, the slick hair and the notch in his brow, the leader that got away. To your horror, your break straightened and your chin went up, you turned towards the man who never gave you his name. He dressed in all black and wore a Hydra pin over his heart, “you really think we’d let you get away?” he asked, “you really think we only gave you the serum?”
“What is happening?” you asked, your mind was being taken over.
“I’ll say it again. Soldat, break in and kill them all.” his smile grew.
You didn’t want to, but somehow the other part of you did.
“copy.”
And the glass shattered with one punch.
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#bucky#bucky barnes#bucky fluff#bucky angst#bucky barnes fluff#bucky barnes angst#bucky x reader#bucky x female reader#bucky x yn#bucky x female yn#hurt/comfort#winter soldier#WINTER SOLDIER FLUFF#winter solider series#bucky barnes series#bucky series#winter soldier angst#winter soldier ptsd#bucky barnes ptsd#sebastian stan#sebastian stan fluff#sebastian stan angst
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SWIM IN GOLD | DOUMA
request: Reader is known to be the most beautiful woman in the village. Douma got intrigued by the word 'beautiful' from rumors that he tried to find the reader to see how beautiful she is and probably eat her soon. But when he saw how beautiful she really is. He hold off his hunger and kidnapped her. After that, Douma locked her in one of a special room for Queens (idk). The reader was upset and wanted to escape. As soon as she got the chance to, she run endlessly through the deep forest. A demon jumped out and attacked her, but before it could. Douma was there to kill it himself. The reader was threatened to be punished after that. But she doesn't care anymore. She knows she is safe with him from now on.
You woke up on the rough surface of the tatami mat with a thin comforter over your figure. Waking up with confusion plaguing your mind, you quickly raised your body and turned your head left and right trying to find something familiar in your strange surroundings. Immediately you tried to remember what you did the night previous, did you get drunk and accidentally sleep with someone? Did you end up being kidnapped?
The last thing you remember was laying down comfortably in your futon and going to sleep, not being able to recall the ingestion of any intoxication. The thought crossed your mind that someone might have drugged you asleep, that way you wouldn't have woken up. You weren't that heavy of a sleeper.
Morning rays of sun seeped through the cracks of the shoji doors, a body sized mirror in the corner or the small room reflected the little light it could catch. Standing up on your feet you got a better look at the room you were in, your gaze stopped at the sliding door which you immediately grabbed.
Sliding it open you were welcomed with long halls containing wooden floors, a man in a light colored kimono flinched when he saw you as he rushed to you.
"Madam, please wait in that room! The Lord is currently speaking to worshippers, I-" You cut the distressed man before he could continue.
"Where am I? I've never been here before," You were confused at the formality, sure men were usually formal to you but never like this.
"You're within the Lords' Chambers, if you're refusing to stay in there I'll have to lock you in there, madam!" You disliked his tone of voice with you, you were looking why and where you were and he was trying to lock you inside a room?
The rules of being a good guest flew out the window, you were in this strange house against your will and you don't want anything to do with it. You raised your voice, anger and frustration beginning to surface.
"I don't give a rat's ass about your "Lord" or whatever! Why am I here, I wish to leave!" You could feel the heat surface to your face as aggression rushed through your body, your foot stomping on the floor in frustration as if you were some child.
"Ma'am please!" The man pleaded.
"I had a feeling I heard a commotion~!" A masculine voice sang, a man dressed in colorful layers of kimonos with shining blonde hair.
He looked like he didn't long for this world, he was so colorful. A top his head he wore a crown as if he were some kind of God, in this case you could even say he was that. It explains his majestic appearance.
"Pardon the trouble, but please get back into the room, I'll be with you soon~!" You could hear the facade behind his tone, it was disgustingly obvious and he was disgustingly good at it.
The colorful man reached out to touch you, likely for some kind of comfort. You swatted his hand away, and took a step away. Your emotions were going haywire, who do these people think they are? Kidnapping you? Before you could even blink, a large hand had grabbed your jawline and pulled it forward.
"Keep this shit up and I'll punish you. I'll be with you soon," His tone turned cold, his smile wiped off his face- he looked like a different thing entirely.
Your stomach sank as fear had set in, this man standing in front of you was much bigger than you and clearly had power over people. There wasn't much hope for you, was there? You swallowed the lump in your throat and nodded with a small whimper, you could feel your forehead dampen with sweat.
He removed his hand slowly and put a friendly pat on top of your head, his cheery disposition had returned. He walked down the hallway, the same way he came from originally.
"I'm so happy my wife is so understanding~!" He sang, "Takeshi-san please take good care of her in my place!" He sang before disappearing around the corner, leaving you in shock.
The servant, now dubbed as Takeshi shouted back, "Y-yes Douma-sama right away!" Before nudging you back into the room.
Douma was a name that rang in your ear, your mother often talked about him with the other housewives in the village about his cult. Despite the warm demeanor that followed the Eternal Paradise religion, you'd stayed far away from it. Something felt always off.
And now that you were stuck inside this small room with no reason why you were in the first place. A rock had settled in your stomach, a very large and immovable rock. You sat on the rough tatami mats on the verge of tears, choking back sobs.
Minutes turned into hours, hours of a sore throat and quiet crying. You were stuck, and nobody would think to look for you in here.
"Crying? What's wrong?"
The voice you had dreaded resonated throughout the room, your gaze was fixated on your crossed knees. His hakama pants made way into your view as he stood right above you.
"My... You didn't even use any of the gifts I got for you. I was sure you would like them."
"Why am I here?" Your voice was cold, trying your best to keep yourself from shaking.
Something was wrong, so very wrong. A sinister edge came off of Douma, he almost reeked of impurity. Simply from the way he presented himself to you, his facade made the rock in your stomach only grow. Your evident helplessness only made your anxiety spike.
His hand was cold, he cupped your cheek. Douma's multicolored eyes seemed to leave you in a trance, they were beautiful. Before you could even process what was happening his lips were on yours.
You've never felt more disgusted by something than right now.
Douma didn't have any body heat, his skin held a chill to it.
Shivers danced up and down your spine, you didn't dare to break the connection. He broke off and kissed your forehead while you stood frozen.
His breath smelled like blood.
"Was that your first kiss? Well don't worry, when we get married I'll make sure to kiss you plenty~!" He sang out, a bright smile on his face and his cheeks red.
"Married?" you had started, "I can't get married, my mother says I must wait until I'm 18 until I choose a suitor!"
"Your mother, oh the nice older lady with (h/c), right? No worries, I ate her just last night when I took her!"
Ate? What the fuck?
Was he the leader of some sick cannibalistic cult? Worshippers of the devil? Your voice was caught in your throat, unable to properly process the words that had spilled from Douma's lips. Was it a metaphor for something?
Douma sat down, your gazes at a similar height as you sat up straight. His back was slouched to look you straight in the eye.
"I'm unable to stay long, I'll make sure to keep you lots of company tomorrow though! It's simply just bad timing, my master has requested a very impromptu meeting. I'll be back, darling~!" he skipped around the room and flung the shoji door open, revealing the engawa.
Taking a deep breath, allowing the night air to fill his lungs.
"The night is beautiful," Douma commented, "But you're even more beautiful."
In less than a blink of an eye he disappeared. As if he was never there in the first place.
Douma didn't lie to you, he did have to leave to see his higher ups. But it was a trap, a test. He had known you were jittery, and he could feel the rushing adrenaline from the moment the two of yours' lips had met. He knew you would try to run away, and as such he could provide protection. Humans' minds were simple and delicate, and he knew how exactly to get you on his side. You were such a delicacy, he's never felt drawn towards someone like he had with you.
It may have been the way other men had talked about you. Or the way you had presented yourself to others. Those meager humans didn't deserve you in his opinion. You presented yourself as some kind of goddess, an inhuman being and giving your attention to mere maggots.
Back inside the estate, you didn't even look to see if Douma had actually left. Some fucked up shit was happening here and you didn't want any part of it. Not even looking for your shoes you had dashed out of the house. Ignoring the stinging of pine needles and small rocks against the bottom of your feet, you forced your legs to carry you through the forest.
Even though you didn't get a good look at your surroundings, nothing looked familiar in the slightest. You didn't care if you were running to the middle of the forest, you just needed to get away from him. The loose kimono restricted your movement, you twisted the obi off and lazily knotted the string around your waist.
Eventually, your adrenaline and stamina had given out. Your burning muscles only got weaker until they eventually gave out and knocked you on your knees, your lungs on fire from running. You had no idea how far away you were from the house, you could still see the dim light over the array of bushes and trees.
The song of the crickets was loud in your ears, as well as the snapping twigs and the rustling of the life around you. You had tried your best to muffle your heavy breathing, not wanting to cause any abnormal disturbances that might hint to your disappearance. Putting one hand over your wheezing mouth and another over your chest in hope to help calm yourself down. You could feel the blood pulsating all over your body.
"Ohoh? A human?"
Your heart sank, everything in your body completely refused to move. Ruled by the exhaustion and terror. It wasn't Douma's voice, but the choking stench of death made your throat close up.
"A woman too, luck really is on my side tonight!"
The demon stood above you from the withered log you had been hiding against, he twisted his body downward inhumanly. Grabbing your shoulder and digging his claws into your flesh, the stinging pain invading all your senses as you tried to wiggle yourself out. You tugged desperately at the hand, screeching and crying until your vocals were sore.
"How troublesome."
Before you could even begin to process the bloody image in front of you, your body had slammed into the rough ground below you, almost knocking the wind out of you. Scurrying backwards, seeing the attacker now in bite sized pieces. Decorating the grass below him with his insides.
"You disobeyed me."
Douma stood on the log above you, moonlight highlighting his figure. Godlike. Just what was he?
"I'll have to punish you."
The shaking in your body ceased, as soon as he had stepped on the ground before you your arms were latched around him.
You didn't care how he'd punish or hold you captive, you knew you were safe.
#douma#demon slayer douma#douma x reader#demon slayer x reader#douma demon slayer#demon slayer#demon slayer muzan#kny muzan#muzan x reader#kny x reader angst#kny x reader#kimetsu no yaiba x reader#anime x reader#manga x reader#hi
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After All | RM13
[Reiner Braun/Reader]
Happiness seems impossible for Reiner, but he may get there after all.
Read on AO3
[As a note, the format of this story is as follows: chapters actually titled “Chapter _” are current to the Marley Arc, chapters titled “M_” are Reiner’s memories in succession, and chapters titled “RM_” are the Reader’s memories in succession]
Previous
[A/N: I apologize for the long wait. It's been a long, long year. It was the culmination of all of my family issues, and that, coupled with the pandemic and my less than ideal mental state, made me drift away from basically everyone and everything. I'm sorry I basically ghosted the internet, but I think I'm on the right track now. But I would like all of you to know your comments were on my mind since the day they were posted. Even though I never replied, I looked at each and every one of them, and you'll never know how touched I was. I'm finally motivated to finish this story. Thank you for waiting patiently, for reading this author's note, reading this story in general, and forgive how rusty my writing is lol :) ]
Darkness was a common fear, plaguing the masses with specters and phantoms. She’d never partaken in it. To her, darkness was just the vessel for the stars. It came with the territory. It was calm and serene and a welcome lapse in repetitive days. It was for secrets of the best kind, soul searching and discovery.
Discovery, yes, discovery. How childish of her to assume discovery was forever positive in nature.
Now, as her steps echoed in her ears, as she cringed with every stick snapping and breath escaping too fast, she knew. Darkness holds the worst things. Stray branches can lie. Grasping fingers don’t snap, or do they? Maybe she didn’t know. Or maybe she knew too much, and her eyes were the real liars. But, contrary to everything, there were no floating torches here, and no faces to be found. That was a promise. He wasn’t there.
Her palms were sweating, yet they grasped for reprieve no more.
“If we can get past this mountain, we’ll be close to Shiganshina.”
Oh, how those words sent her heart into overdrive. Everything was coming together. New technology rested in her fingertips, against her back, along every inch of her consciousness. Who would’ve thought stones could bring light, and that humanity could create little forever torches they could light at will? They had personal stars tied to their hips, and the world felt closer and closer every day.
After this mission, they’d clear Wall Maria for reentry. Eren would be heralded as the hero of the known world, and his great deeds would commence a new age of exploration and innovation. The mountains and oceans and seas of fire that Armin painted in her mind would cement themselves in her soul. She’d acquire knowledge of many kinds, and maybe it would fill her to the brim, and she would feel complete again.
(f/n) shook her head at the notion. Never again would she look too forward. If she focused too much on the possibilities, the holes in the present would multiply, and she’d be liable to fall into a hell of her own creation.
She’d done it before.
“Titan to the left! Everyone halt and illuminate the area!”
Her mind didn’t move her hand, and it barely processed the appearance of a short haired Titan sitting just twenty meters from their group. Wide, unseeing eyes were turned to the sky, as if morning couldn’t come soon enough. As her hands shook and lungs ached, she wondered for a moment if it knew they were there.
“We didn’t even notice it until we were so close…” Eren’s voice floated to her as she glanced toward Jean. His breathing had an unnatural speed. Her eyes met his, and she nodded that nod of encouragement and ‘you’ll be okay’ that she’d been on the receiving end of too many times. When he returned it, she was thankful, but she didn’t look too hard.
Everything about this felt like a funeral, and that was against all of the good this could bring. They were on their way to undo all the evil done in the past years, even the past decade, and yet it felt as though it was being done again with every step they took. They were marching toward Death; she could feel it in her bones, the way they chattered in her flesh. They begged her to turn back. But this needed to be done. Needed to. It was like a pull against every fabric of her being.
And she swore she saw him at the end of the thread.
It was his fault, wasn’t it?
It was dark, darker than even their bright stars could illuminate, yet she recognized where they were. These were the trees she’d climb when she wanted out of the house. And this was the path toward Shiganshina. Well, that was their destination, she knew that much. But to see it all again, like a still open wound, was simultaneously hopeful and terrifying.
The familiar sound of water over river rocks was bloodcurdling. It was like a hollow version of the soundtrack of her childhood, empty and wrong. As it got louder and louder, she tightened her hands on her horse’s reins. It was only a matter of time before they remounted and made the mad dash toward the destroyed entrance of the buffer city that was her home.
And a matter of time it was. Orders came to saddle up under the first light of dawn, and she did so with haste. She checked and rechecked her gear, rubbed her mare behind the ears. This would be it, whether for good or bad. It took everything in her to repress her shivers.
And then they were off, galloping in group formation toward remnant houses and the looming mass that was Wall Maria. She could see the gaping hole left by that traitorous shoulder so long ago. As she leaned forward for whatever momentum she could garner, she wondered how it felt breaking so many people’s hope, and their homes, and their bodies.
She hoped now that all that would be reversed.
Pulling her hood closer to her face, she let loose of the reins, deploying her 3dmg to latch onto what remained of the outskirts houses. Their orders were to conceal their identities and head toward the outer gate. There was no telling what, or who, could be watching, and Eren needed all the time he could get. He was supposed to utilize his newfound hardening ability and seal the hole. Any titans found along the way belonged to the rest of the Survey Corps, and, Goddess-forbid, if a certain group of shifters appeared, they belonged to them too.
She was on the wall now, running along the forbidden outskirts to a once home. She’d never seen it from this vantage point, and never dreamed to, being that soldier hadn’t been in her life vocabulary until all that was her life was not. And now she could see the destruction that day had really brought. All of the stray stones upon houses. Her home was there, near the inner wall. She could barely glimpse the rotten roof, the faded colors of her prior life.
Oh, to come home again.
Just as she risked another fall into the past, a figure in front of her abruptly came to a stop, and she did as well. As they raised their right hand, she recognized the face of Armin, and fear swam in his eyes. With a swing around, she followed his eyes to the Commander, then back to Armin and the discovery at his feet.
Ashes to ashes; dust to dust.
A fire had been here. Someone had been here. Eren was ascending, and all were watching on. As she followed Armin toward the ground, a flash of lightning muted the sky yet again, as it had daily in preparation for this moment. Any other time, she’d feel fear, but this was hope, and it was sealing the hole. Tendrils of crystal flesh obstructed the gaping memory of their childhoods. The first phase was complete.
Upon the ground, the two found equipment fit for living. Mugs, firewood, knick knacks and trinkets for survival littered the ground. They’d been disposed of in haste. Raising a mug to her nose, she beheld a scent she’d never known. It was strong, as strong as the black that clung to the base of the cup. Unnerved, she glanced toward Armin, and found two more mugs in his hands.
Without a word between them, they headed straight for the Commander.
“We have a report!”
She touched down beside her blonde friend, nodding toward the Commander, who betrayed nothing at all.
“(f/n) and I found a full set of camping equipment scattered on the ground. They seemed to be drinking something that resembled tea. The pot had gone cold. But there were cups left behind, with traces of the black liquid from inside the pot. And… there were at least three. It seems there were more than two people on top of the wall.”
The man beside the Commander jolted at the news. “There were three?!”
Despite his exclamation, Commander Erwin remained sober, in countenance and words. “Was it an iron pot that had gone cold?”
“Yes, sir,” she replied, fearing his line of reasoning.
“That’s odd…” He trailed off, turning back toward the inner city. “We made full use of our horses and the vertical maneuvering equipment to arrive here at top speed. They should have had two minutes at most between the time they first saw or heard us and when we arrived. There’s no way a freshly-used pot would’ve cooled off in just two minutes.” His eyes hardened, just the slightest bit. “Our enemies somehow knew we were approaching at least five minutes in advance… which means they had plenty of time to prepare for us.”
The observation made her hair stand on end, and she couldn’t stop her words from echoing it. “So they had scouts… There are more enemies here.”
“We’ll make locating enemies our top priority,” the Commander replied, his solemn eyes falling upon her, then Armin. “Arlert, your mind has saved us from dire straits time and time again. Now we need your abilities more than ever. Take as many men as you need, and search around the inner gate for enemies.” He gestured for those nearby to approach, and a group ascended the wall.
“Nothing unusual discovered in the area!”
“Continue your search in the command of Armin Arlert.”
Armin’s eyes were wide, but she knew he could do this. He’d grown so much in the last few months, hardening in the subtlest ways. She’d seen it firsthand. His logic was sure.
“Split into two groups to search the buildings around the inner gate, both outside and inside the district. If you find anything, report by acoustic shell… Please?” The addition at the end caused an involuntary laugh to bubble up her throat, even with the tension. He was too sweet. “Yes, sir!”
She followed for a bit before branching off and searching a building. Once she was done, she entered the next, and the next, and the next. There was no thought other than finding the enemy, and that kept her from realizing the home she was in until she’d made it inside. It was her home, from before, and everything was somewhat in its place. Her mother’s mug, next to the sink. Her father’s old bag, dusty and still hanging by the door, where her mother had left it to hang since his death. The rug that’d been passed down through the family, made by some unknown relative’s hand. And the little family drawing she’d done when she was eight, still hanging near the entryway.
Slowly, shakily, she approached the drawing. It was crude and altogether childish, as it should've been. She was holding hands with her parents, one on either side. The little c-shaped grin on her caricature found it’s mirror on her face, and tears threatened her eyes. But this wasn’t the time nor place for nostalgia, so she ripped the image from the wall and placed it in her jacket pocket, alongside the little bound book of Hange’s giving, and she made for the window.
The sound of an acoustic shell made her freeze before shooting off in its direction. She could see the others approaching the top of the wall, so she followed behind. At the top, she found Armin.
“Arlert! Did you find them!”
“Not yet!” Was that a good thing? With the way she let out a breath, it seemed like it was. “Everyone search the wall!”
“We already did! There’s nowhere for them to hide!”
“They’re inside the wall!”
“Inside the wall?!” Everyone gasped.
He could only give a shaky nod. “Yes, there must be a space inside it where humans can stay for an extended period of time!”
“How do you know that?!”
He paused. “It’s a hunch.”
One of the men grabbed at Armin’s shoulders, the fabric bunching in a panicked set of hands. “Do you have any idea what kind of situation we’re in right now?! We don’t have time to—!”
“But our enemies!” came Armin’s fierce retort. “They’ve always used their Titan powers in the most improbable ways to gain the advantage! If we let ourselves be constrained by regular common sense, we’ll never be able to gain the upper hand on them!”
Those words must’ve struck the tautest cord in the Commander, for his eyes narrowed. She could feel the meaning there. They’d strung the lot of them along with their higher knowledge, and the Walls were the highest power of Humanity. Of course the enemy would know their way around them. With that in mind, the Commander shot off the signal to halt the operation, and she could see everyone within the Walls leave their position to perch themselves in wait.
“There are times to be rigid, and times to be flexible. Follow the principles you’ve learned as soldiers as you give everything you have to the mission. Observe the chain of command,” his voice lowered, resolute and altogether bone rattling. “We’re here to win.”
And Armin’s bones were rattling, yes, as he raised his own voice in command. She could see the shivers down his spine despite his hard eyes. “Split into two groups again and search the surface of the Wall! Begin checking everything carefully from the top of the gate up!”
And so they split, with a yell, and descended either side of the Commander’s chosen stand. Two anchors sunk into the top of the wall above each searcher, including her. She was gripping her triggers like lifelines, even as she banged her swords one by one against the surface of the wall. No hollow spots, no hollow spots. She continued to descend. It was like the worst kind of surprise was waiting, and she begged it not to be for her. What would she do if she found something? What would they do? Just the thought constricted her lungs.
A hollow sound met her senses, and she all but froze at the sound of an acoustic round much too close to her ears. To her right, she found a man with fear filled eyes, just one person between them. If she’d descended from there, just to her right, it would’ve been her voice that said:
“Here! There’s a hollow spot here!”
And it would’ve been her who beheld the face appearing from behind the Wall, and her who fell to a sword through the chest. Everything stood still as a figure pushed the limp man out of the way. She could hear the friction of her boots against the stone of the Wall, her breath circling around her lungs, the screams of her comrades, the wind by her ears. They were high up; altitude always brought velocity.
In that in-between space that sudden fear brings, she met his eyes, and a chill unlike any other nipped at her cheeks and encased her spine. Even from her vantage point, she could discern hazel, widening for a millisecond with mutual realization.
This was happening.
And altitude brought velocity, as it always does, to ruin her moment of repose. Out of the corner of her eye, she beheld the absolute speed of Corporal Levi, careening toward the uncovered enemy. And, without any warning, or perhaps every warning in the world, she witnessed tempered steel through flesh. An involuntary scream ripped from her throat, as if originating from Reiner’s severed vocal chords.
As Levi ran down the Wall, Reiner fell beside him. Parallel movement was a dance of death, plummeting toward the ground. His back was arched, limbs convulsing. He was shaking, just as she, bleeding from the two killing wounds Levi meticulously delivered. There was no way to reverse those blows.
But, she’d forgotten.
And he was still, as if rigor mortis came hours early. And Levi pushed with all his might to send the foe to the ground. His blade came loose, and he retreated to the Wall.
But why? From where she hung, (f/n) couldn’t understand what was happening. Levi would never miss the fatal blow, so why would he let Reiner fall to the ground and risk him miraculously surviving? Perhaps he was dead. That had to be it, right? Reiner was dead. Dead. There was no point in worrying about him anymore, right? Tomorrow her heart wouldn’t ache; tomorrow all wrongs would be right. She’d forget he existed, and forget hazel altogether. The slate was wiped clean; her heart was born anew.
But another scream tore through to her ears, and she collapsed in on herself. She recognized it all too well. And lightning struck her once again, like that day months ago. Perhaps she should’ve been more prepared for that flash of light, since she knew the possibility was there. But it stole her breath away just as it had then, and she internally cried at the body that lay in the dispersing smoke.
The body of a Titan encased in crystalline armor would forever haunt her dreams.
“Incoming! Take cover!” came the call from above, and she wondered how she ever could. All she could do was dangle helplessly from her wires, watching the ground shake below from unknown projectiles. It appeared that the hole in the gate had been sealed by stray stones. Their exit was blocked.
With the shred of will she had left, she ascended the Wall and realized the situation they were in. The Beast Titan was inside Wall Maria, with a horde at its side. It’d been the one to throw the stones. They were surrounded by Titans at their backs, and at their front, toward their goal, was the Armored Titan.
There was no escape.
As everyone watched the group of Titans surrounding them in horror, she couldn’t take her eyes away from the steam billowing from Reiner’s form. That was him in there, controlling that monster. He raised his enormous hand in a way akin to stretching it, as if there were truly tendons to be tangled beneath that armor. He’d always been impenetrable, and now she knew why. Those walls were inside of him as well, deeper than any connection she could’ve made with him. He flexed his fingers and his toes, and she realized he was hardening them like Annie had her own skin.
He was preparing to climb the Wall. And then he broke into a sprint that would eradicate the will of anyone not already coming there to die.
“Soldiers!” exclaimed the Commander, pulling her attention from he who approached. “You are not yet to engage the Armored Titan! Maintain a safe distance!”
At her orders, she stood tall, an affirmative call echoing from her throat. She’d prepared for this moment. She’d grown, just as Armin and the rest had. This was not the same girl he’d known before; she’d never known him. So, orders were orders as they always were, and she’d wait for the signal to attack, as she always did. This was no different than any other battle.
She’d tell herself that, again and again.
“They have one more intelligent Titan. It’s that quadruped Titan, though there may be others,” the Commander’s voice caused her head to turn toward the subject of his eyes. Said Titan was on all fours, with what appeared to be cargo strapped to its back. But what could it be carrying? What would a Titan army need that it didn’t already possess? They had all the strength in the world, the height, the weight…
They’d taken everything; what more could they need?
There was no time to ponder such inexplicable things when a fist was being raised. The Beast Titan’s fist hit the ground with thunderous quakes, and its roar burned every ear like a beacon. At the sound, the smaller class Titans surrounding it began sprinting toward the outskirt buildings on the outside of the gate.
Frozen, she glanced away from the multitude approaching, for a greater threat was on his way. Reiner was ascending the Wall, as if it was a tree from their younger days. He was less than thirty meters away now.
“Sir, what now?! The Armored Titan is almost here, and we still don’t know where Bertholdt is…!” Armin exclaimed from beside her, and she silently echoed the question.
“Yes, I’m well aware…” The Commander turned and raised his hand. “Dirk Squad and Marlene Squad, join Klaus Squad at the inner gate! Guard the horses with your lives! Levi Squad and Hange Squad,” (f/n) tensed at orders incoming, “I need you to take down the Armored Titan! Deploy the thunder spears at your own discretion! Carry out your objective by any means necessary!” Hard eyes stared the groups down, like the steel hanging at their sides. “This moment! This battle! Humanity’s continued survival depends on it! So, once more, for Humanity’s sake, dedicate your hearts!”
The collective yes sir! spurned her to action, despite the finality that stilled her feet. This was it. The orders had come. With little thought and everything on her mind, she ran toward her squad leader with her friends.
Unlike them, she’d joined Hange’s Squad. The decision was basically set after Hange and her conversation that first day at the headquarters. She had an affinity for research, and Hange was privy to that fact. So, when the time finally came, the squad leader requested her placement with her instead of Levi Squad. It’d made sense at the time. She aided with Hange’s research, giving as much valid input as possible and being a listening ear for Eren during their experiments. She’d had firsthand scientific discoveries at Hange’s side, like the invention of the flashlights and the revolutionary thunder spears.
So, she took her place behind Squad Leader Hange, and she ran. A swivel of her head told her Levi wasn’t joining them, for he stood stationary at the Commander’s side. He must have had personal orders to stay. At their side stood Armin, attentive as always.
The Commander had a plan.
And Armin delivered it as they converged inside the Wall. Eren would transform, and pull Reiner’s attention away from the horses. They had to be defended at all cost. “So, Eren will be our bait.”
“I never would’ve thought he’d use Eren as bait just to protect the horses…” trailed Hange’s voice.
Mikasa responded with a good question. “What if Reiner decides to kill the horses anyways?”
“No,” sighed Hanged, deep in thought. “Reiner should chase after Eren. If Reiner chooses the horses, Eren will go back around toward Trost District and attack the Beast Titan from behind. Levi’s forces and Eren will take the Titan down using a pincer attack. That’s what Erwin said, right?” She looked to Armin, who nodded. “Even if it goes wrong, the enemy will be confused and break rank at the sight of Eren running away. The question is whether or not Reiner will be able to see that far ahead…”
At the thought, (f/n) couldn’t help the tightness in her chest. “He will,” she said, because of course he would. He was smarter than anyone she knew, even Armin sometimes. He had everything a person could have. Book smarts, battle smarts, the strength and will to carry those out.
If only…
“Okay, let’s engage Reiner inside the district!”
“Ah, wait!” interrupted Armin. “There’s another thing to be careful of. The Colossal Titan is still hiding somewhere. Eren,” he met his eyes, “last time, you nearly had Reiner pinned, but Bertholdt’s surprise attack helped Reiner abduct you and escape. So… to prevent that, simply fight away from the Wall.”
So he did.
The first blow he landed to Reiner’s face met their ears with a sickening crack.
“Oh, gosh, are you okay?! I didn’t think it’d actually land! I got frustrated…” The feeling of his hand in hers was heavy and strong as she helped him from the ground, totally unlike the feeling of her knuckles against his cheek.
“Haha, of course I am! And don’t be sorry. That was a clean right hook,” he grinned. It was red. She held her own hand like a white flag. He noticed. “Hey, you okay though?” She nodded. He didn’t believe it. “Let me see it.”
So she did.
“Prepare your thunder spears, everyone! The first opening Eren gives, we go!”
A scream billowed from whatever Titan lungs lived in Reiner’s chest, and he went for a leg sweep she could see coming a mile away.
“Too slow!” He grinned as he defended her takedown for the thousandth time. She didn’t particularly share his mirth.
As she wiped the dirt from her knees, she groaned. “Sometimes I think it’s unfair that you’re my teacher and my sparring partner.”
“Why’s that?”
“You know all the moves I know!”
That lopsided grin gave way to laughter, and she couldn’t deny it. “Then you’ll have to come up with your own, huh?”
His next move, she’d never seen. Perhaps it held desperation he’d never shown her; perhaps he’d thought it too advanced, therefore too cruel, for an amateur such as she.
Either way, it was terrifying.
He had a vice grip on Eren’s ankle, hoisting him into the air as if he was an axe. And then, in a fluid movement that didn’t betray the massive weight held, he slammed Eren into a nearby building. And, like he’d taught her so long ago, he gave his opponent no time to rest before aiming for the ground and pound.
Thankfully, Eren moved his head in time.
“Squad leader!” came Mikasa’s voice, desperate to make a difference in what appeared to be a one sided battle.
“Not yet! Surround him first! Everything depends on the first attack! We need to wait and believe that Eren will give us the perfect opportunity.”
“Don’t get so trigger happy. The perfect opportunity will come.”
“But how will I know?”
“You’re smart. Don’t doubt yourself, (f/n). You’ll know.”
As soon as Reiner escaped Eren’s kimura and rolled away, she felt it. It’d take him a few extra seconds to get his bearings about him; they could enter the fray in that instant. As her feet hit the roof below her, she realized everyone else was on the move as well. This was it.
Being that they were the most skilled soldiers present, Hange and Mikasa would deal the first blows. They had to incapacitate him for a workable time frame. So, they caught him off guard and aimed their thunder spears at his weakest points: his eyes. In a flash, he was blind.
With that, they were on the move. Jean, Sasha, Connie, (f/n), and the remainder of Hange’s squad moved as one towards his nape. And, with practiced precision, each of their anchors imbedded themselves in his dreadfully hard skin. Then, they released their thunder spears.
A couple seconds passed. Though, maybe it was one. Just enough to get away, get away, and flash. The sound was unbearable, soulless and soulful all the same. Her footing was a tad shaky in her landing, and her subconscious mind berated itself. Her conscious mind, however, told her…
“One more! Fire the thunder spears and finish him off!”
The hesitation in her friends’ eyes stilled her feet. This was it. This was it. She looked toward the nape mangled by her own hand, and she found daffodil blonde locks above it.
“You were prepared for this moment to come, right?!” Jean’s voice reached her from her left, and she met his eyes. They were scared, most likely mirroring her own, but Jean had always been born a leader. He had strength in times even he bore questions, and she decided that his strength was enough for her. Yes, she’d prepared for this, every day, every hour, every minute, every second. This. “Let’s do this!”
She wasn’t even aware of the look of horror upon her face as she followed his lead. Everything felt like nothing at all, and yet she felt she could cry.
Then a flash, and a fall, and it was over.
But, like always, the worst was yet to come.
The silence was deafening. Maybe that was the work of the thunder spears, or perhaps trauma in action. Either way, she couldn’t hear anything. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw her comrades under Hange’s command celebrating. But nothing could compare to the image made clear through dispersing steam.
Those broad shoulders she’d placed so many hopes and dreams upon, strong as the Walls, dependable, absolute… supported nothing. Only his jaw remained, and, above it, a void beyond description. Half an ear, a lock of hair, and blood filled her vision. It was all blood and steam and terrible angles and emptiness. Even as hot tears tore out of her eyes, she couldn’t look away. Even as her breathing stilled, and she cried out in agony, the pain and tension could never compare to… his body jutting awkwardly from the confines of his Titan. Awkward and stiff and altogether wrong, like all bodies end up.
“You’re dead.”
“Hey, now, isn’t that a little extreme?”
She laughed. “Every time you get me with the knife you tell me that, and now that I’ve caught you, it’s forbidden?”
Hazel eyes curved like crescent moons. “It’s funny when I say it. When you say it, it’s scary.”
“You should be scared!”
“I don’t wanna be, though!”
So she cried, because she was scared and overwhelmed by issues unresolved. This was proof that buried feelings never vanish; this was reality.
“What the hell are you crying for?!” Jean’s voice broke through her already shattered facade, and she turned to find him hoisting Connie and Sasha to their feet. They appeared devastated; she was as well. “C’mon, get up! We’re not done yet! All we’ve done… is kill Reiner!” His eyes met hers, and she saw the desperation there, mixed with disbelief. He was as much of a bottle as the rest of them. He placed a hand on her shoulder, as if she could truly feel. “Don’t cry! We’re the ones who killed him!”
His own tears refused the command.
“We’re not finished! Prepare your equipment for the next one!” At Hange’s orders, (f/n) questioned the meaning of it all. The next one, Hange had said. The next one was Bertholdt, wasn’t it? Tall, lanky Bertholdt with a heart of gold. He’d been the one to first offer her help. He’d been her first friend. How could—
An indescribable roar; a scream from the soul.
Before her very eyes, the Armored Titan’s jaw hung open, a bloodcurdling and ear destroying scream bursting forth.
“Hey, did we not hit it with enough thunder spears?!”
“Blow it to pieces!”
Every cell in her body begged her to flee, but there she stood, distraught and absolutely shell shocked. How could he have lived through that? Or, had he not lived at all, and this was the true nature of the Armored Titan?
“Hit it with the thunder spears—!”
“No, please get away from Reiner!!” At Armin’s despairing scream, (f/n) turned to find his finger aimed at the sky. “Above us!” Was that… a barrel? “The Colossal Titan is going to come down on us from above! This entire area is going to get blown away! ”
Just those words were enough to introduce surrender to her veins.
“Dammit! Everyone get away from the Armored Titan! The Colossal Titan is about to fall right on us!” ordered Hange, and they did as told. Her own desperation fueled her escape, side by side with her closest friends. They were following Eren’s lead, begging and pleading in their souls for a gift from whatever god or goddesses reigned supreme.
And then they heard it.
“Reiner!”
It was Bertholdt’s voice. He couldn’t speak in Titan form, there was no way. Had they truly been spared? Her eyes glanced this way and that, confirming the safety of her companions. They paused atop the nearest building, watching intently as steam billowed from Reiner’s position.
“We’re safe for now…” Hange said, little hope hanging in those hopeful words. “Bertholdt aborted his mission once he saw the state Reiner was in.” She sighed, “In any case, our mission target has flown directly into our sights. We might even call this lucky.”
Luck never stays for long. That was a truth (f/n) learned, again and again and again.
“Target approaching from the front!”
“It’s Bertholdt!”
“Continue as planned! Squad Levi, follow Armin’s command! Protect Eren! Everyone else, work together to finish our two targets!” At Hange’s command, (f/n) gave a fleeting look to her friends. Everything was moving so fast, but they had to be faster. Orders were orders; they had to divide and conquer.
So she left her friends behind and followed her squad, just as she had in Trost, when she’d had a squad of her own, and in her first expedition, when she’d lost them all. It was all muscle memory, flying through the air. Her subconsciousness took the lead: adjusting her weight distribution, engaging and releasing her triggers, saving gas. She could do this; this was no different than any fateful day.
“Please wait!” Armin appeared at Hange’s side.
“What is it, Armin?!”
“This is… our last chance to negotiate!” (f/n) all but froze at his words. Was negotiation an option? Had it always been? He didn’t leave room for questions as he pushed on ahead, toward their greatest enemy. She aimed to follow, but balked when Hange signaled everyone to stand by.
It wasn’t long before that signal changed though.
“I decided it! Your lives are coming to an end, right here!”
As (f/n) followed her squad members toward the sole cloud in sight, she wondered if that’d truly been Bertholdt. How could someone so timid and kind speak so maliciously? How could it it be that—
Reiner came into view, and she choked on her own thoughts. He was on his back now, all weakness hidden from sight. Everything was happening so fast. She couldn’t make sense of it all.
“Now how are we supposed to…?” Cain, the newest member of the squad, asked the burning question. However, before any thought could be given to a resolution, another voice tore through the air.
“Pull back!”
It was Hange’s. (f/n) turned toward the direction she knew her Squad Leader to be, and, to her absolute horror, she beheld Bertholdt’s ascent. Armin’s negotiations had failed; destruction would soon rain down upon them all.
“Take cover!” Her voice cracked as she lunged toward whatever cover she could find. There was no reaching her comrades; the Colossal Titan’s power was absolute. Her eyes found a building just to her right, windows broken, door ominously ajar. But, before she could even hope to make it through a door or window, a white hot blaze seared her eyes. A second later came the sound. Deafening, it rumbled in her chest and shook her soul. Then came the heat, and the pain, and the overwhelming smoke any detonation promises to bring.
And finally came the darkness she truly feared.
Next
#reiner braun#reiner braun x reader#reiner braun/reader#aot#snk#attack on titan#shingeki no kyojin#bertholdt hoover#armin arlert#jean kirschtien
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Brae - M Merman x M Human (Reader) // NSFW
The pictures do not belong to me. I only created the mood board. Do not repost my work anywhere.
Content: NSFW/Lemon; flirting, merman’s insecurities from his family, blowjob (+ mention of teeth, nothing too explicit), drinking alcohol, NSFW scene involving handjobs by the merman, mention of touching the merman’s slit, kissing, then angst with thoughts of drowning and a fluffy-ish ending
Wordcount: 6539
“Tropemas” Summary: when the mer insisting on befriending you returned day after day, falling for him was inevitable
Notes: this comes at the beautiful request of @nikipuppeteer and unfortunately I had already planned a soulmate au, but I loved the idea of a mlm mer fic too much to not do it!! This really got ahead of me and I love my boys, but so much I couldn’t let it go without it being up to my really annoying standards. I hope you love them <3
Masterlist // “Tropemas” Masterlist
No matter the dangers accompanied by falling asleep on an unanchored boat, lethargy always overcame you. It was only a small rowboat and one swayed by the gentlest of waves, hardly a comfortable place to rest and your neck always ached the evening after, but time on the sea had become like second nature to you now, and the napping was long ingrained in your afternoons out.
Though waking with water dripping on your face was rare.
Only one cloud needed to mar daylight for you to wait indoors for a brighter day. Beyond the threat of losing yourself at sea, a storm would ruin the sketchbook tucked to your lap. Fragile paper couldn’t survive the wind or rain. Scattered scrawls were no works of art, but after hours rocked at sea and memorising the crags of the cove, it was your treasure, one you took to after moving from the cities and finding peace in the small costal town, and the view was the first you’d had not from cramped flats.
Rare enough, another droplet cool dribbling down your cheek roused you to find the sketchbook damp too, tossed open. Pages wettened still from slender fingertips – clawed, tracing your latest landscaping of cliffs, pencil lines smudging into faded lines. Of all sketches, this hardly finished and quickly ruining one was nothing to prize, but the creature tipping you and your boat precariously lower with every breath seemed enamoured by it.
Watching the creature, you were torn from wanting to scare him off – if you could even scare a thing like him, corded muscle trembling with balancing your boat, sharp-finned where saltwater shone on his dark skin – or wanting to feign sleep longer, just to admire how his teal scales shimmered, clashing and darkening with navy and streaks of black. The darkest scales tipped pectoral fins, sharpened points glinting like the narrow slits in his throat, or the ridged scales rising from the curve of a dark back, down to where his long tail swayed in the water.
You itched to draw him. If portraits were your talent, the sloping of his tail beneath the water would be decorating your papers before night, if he hadn’t ruined them.
Each touch of claws almost tore through the soggy paper and he turned the page. Saltwater dripped from hair curling in the heat of the sun when the creature lurched up and the boat jostled. His hand came to your thigh before you rose from the bench, like he had known you were feigning sleep. Where he was so soaked by the sea, you hadn’t thought it possible the slender fingers stroking up your leg could be so warm, pressing against you to trace a more developed sketch – of the same view, but he admired all the same.
Seasickness had never plagued you before in all your time at sea but how the creature rocked it then made your stomach lurch. He had torn through the paper and some noise tumbled free of you, a panicked cry or curse and you reached to snatch it back before he could damage it more. The merman had stiffened. Claws you hadn’t felt before snagged at you bare thigh and the swaying of your small boat only ceased when he rose and clutched the edge tight. In a small way, you were grateful for that.
You weren’t so thankful that it brought him closer.
For the depth of colours in his scales, the sunlight brightening his rounding eyes forced back your bitterness. Equally dark hair shone a hidden navy with his head canting, though he remained as silent as you. His thin lips pulled back and you thought it a threat with predator’s teeth bared, until a black tongue slid against the points of his teeth and he smiled; a macabre smile, but the beauty of it was like the rest of him.
The sketchbook rested on your lap now, cradled, and that was where he lifted a slender arm, down to the book. Pointing to the paper then to himself, and back to you. Again. Once more, before the boat rocked.
“Do me,” he whispered, soft, disarmingly so that he came an inch more from the water and sunk the boat that much lower. “Do me or I may tip your boat.”
He dizzied your head like the boat had your senses. “You want… you want me to draw you?”
“Draw,” he echoed. When he stretched out to the paper, you let him trace the faded pencil lines and bright eyes peered up at you beneath uneven hair tangling along his forehead. “Draw me. Tomorrow at noon. Or the boat tips,” the merman breathed again through a glinting smile of daggered teeth, not entirely a tease. Smaller claws once on your blank sketchbook traced across your bare thigh, grazing up before nudging the hem of your shorts.
The boat tipped without him to held it steady, and only when he began to retreat did you catch his hand. His fingers slid through yours, claws falling to trace the deeper grooves in your palm when you asked, “do you have a name?”
“Don’t you?” In sharing yours – and hoping he wasn’t in any way fae, he smiled wider. “Brae. Noon.”
The waters carried you another hour before the touch of his thumb tracing along your wrist as he had the sketches left your thoughts. It was harder to banish him from your mind completely and he followed you home, the odd warmth of him smothered to the back of your chest where it ached. Wondering how his scales felt against you in place of his claws did you no good.
Noon came and inevitably, you were settled as far out as the day before, though you hadn’t a real choice in whether you were to return, regardless of this being a day you would nap in the sunlight without his demand.
Mer roamed the cove – it was renowned for them, notorious creatures known for luring humans out to toy with them far from land. If Brae had looked before at your art when you napped, you had no way of knowing, of knowing whether any mer had approached you before. If you left the boat moored today and returned tomorrow, you had no doubt that you would be turned into the sea.
Maybe, a little part of you so far hard to smother, wanted to see him. It was curiosity settling you on the bench of the bench, a pencil twisting through your fingers above a blank page. Most mer, those who made their homes at the cove, shimmered brighter; not so much navy but sky blue, softer hues. Brae’s fins were just that bit sharper, eyes smaller slits with less light to them, his body far stronger than any others – the first like him you knew of.
Time passing beneath the sun worked in convincing you Brae hadn’t been anything more than a hallucination. Only the damp blemishes and ripped pages anchored you a little longer – and the memory of his touch was too hard to forget, until a splash of water tipped the boat and lips pulled back into an attempted smile.
You curled the open page from range of where his head canted and saltwater dripped.
With him leaning closer, now was an opportune moment to tell him that, actually, unfortunately, portraits weren’t you specialty, else he wouldn’t need to ask for his, but the words never came when light warmed his rounding eyes.
“When will you start?”
“Start drawing?”
“Start drawing me,” he said, though his stare had risen from the blank page. Like you had only the day before, Brae appraised from your crown to your toes, tongue caught in his teeth the whole time. The weight of it settled in your chest uncomfortably; whatever mer standards were, you doubted you were anything but unappealing to a creature so beautiful, but no comment came. “Now?”
“If I’m to sketch you-“
“You are.” Deep beneath him, the slow swaying of his tail rose through to his arms curling on the boat’s edge. He rocked with every move and his attention flitted from your towels bundled at your feet to your satchel bag. “To draw me. You are.”
“I need you to-“
“On the beach.” Words overrun as you lost your thought. He hadn’t once stopped moving, dipping under the water and rising the other side of the boat, or reaching out to just brush his hand to yours before rushing back. Only his chin rested on the boat now as he said, “we should do it on the beach. Safer. Dry.”
Safer.
Coughing over your laugh couldn’t muffle it when you turned closer. “Weren’t you threatening to throw me out my boat yesterday?”
He frowned. “Not now. Tomorrow. The beach tomorrow.”
“Brae-“
Claws tipped your chin and all breath rushed from you. They were weapons, like daggers poised to cut as the predator he was, but it felt like a caress how he brought your face closer, near enough the cool air from water clinging to him brushed you. “Tomorrow.”
Being so near, the strength to protest waned. How the pencil hadn’t snapped between your fingers was beyond you; it was all that was left stopping you from returning the touch, wanting to feel his scales – were they smooth or rough, how would they feel against you? – and all you knew was that the touch of claws against the tightness locking your throat didn’t feel like a threat anymore.
If this was how mer lured humans out, you weren’t against following.
“Will you lay still on the beach for me?”
“So you can stare at me?” Brae’s black tongue traced along his teeth with a low hum. “If you wish.” he said, a rising smile binding your throat tighter.
The claws now tracing against your top’s neckline bound your throat tighter. “So I can draw you.”
“Why still?”
“If you move, it’s harder to focus. Harder to draw you. I could- can I take a photo of you?” His answer came without a need to verbalise it; his smile was nothing like a threat, far from the twisting of his face and pressed fins beneath his jaw flaring. Under passing clouds, his darkening face harshened. In an effort to calm his growl, you swallowed. “Won’t people see you on the beach?”
Curiosity drove you to again. Before him, you hadn’t seen another mer so close. Flashes of scales glimmered beneath the water but they were a reclusive kind. Why he demanded a portrait yet refused a photography intrigued you, though not enough to outrightly question.
“See me?” Brae’s cheek turned onto his forearm. Beneath the high sun, seawater glistened on his dark skin, the edges of his gills and faint scales almost glowing. “Why would anyone rather look at me than you?”
The truth tingled on your lips. That he was beautiful, and your art could never do him justice nor any photo, but you swallowed it back. Until daylight fell and left a chill, the merman curled against your side, close enough one tremor could tip your boat. Only small talk passed between glances down, and each turn was returned with a small smile until those teeth earlier bared in threat no longer focused in your thoughts. Brae fell away with a lingering run of claws against your hand and the touch stayed with you long after you found yourself retracing the beginnings of his portrait that night. After the fuss of asking, it turned out you didn’t need a photograph to remember him.
Tales of reclusive mer lessened the popularity of this cove, which had been the enticement to it in moving. Finding a shelter of jagged rocks just beyond sight of anyone passing wasn’t hard, nor was it hard to find Brae among the waves when he crept up the beach- rather inelegantly but you couldn’t have done so any better with the huge tail dragging through wet sand.
“I see you sometimes.”
Brae heeded your plea that afternoon, resting not far from reach. Returning to water wasn’t a pressing urge when he only rested, hardly an exertion, but he thanked you for the slight shelter. His knuckles reached to brush you when he spoke and otherwise cushioned himself on his arms while you contented yourself by marking him.
“Sleeping is dangerous.”
That made your pencil slip. “Have you looked at my art before?”
Brae scoffed but turned away, not before his teeth bit on his lip. Shading came easier with the slight warmth in your chest that blossomed. If he had, he must have liked the art to want his own portrait and after a minute, you looked up to find your muse gone.
Not too far but a length of his tail away, the merman dug through hot sand. Looking beyond the way his scales glowed in this light, differently to when they shimmered beneath water, he cradled dozens of pebbles in his arms, face scrunched in looking for more. The pebbles mirrored him: some dark like coal, others among the occasional shell a soft blue. He continued unaware of your standing, muffling the pain of hot sand beneath your bare feet, how it stung like needles until you crouched and kneeled beside him.
“They’re pretty.” Brae clutched them closer. He attempted a sneak at your paper like he had all afternoon, and, like you had all afternoon, you tucked it away faster. This far, so soon, it was nothing of significance, but it had promise; promise from the evening of tending to it and tonight would be the same. “Will you take them back with you?”
“We gather pebbles.”
“Why?”
Brae’s teeth nibbled on his lip. “Mer secret.”
“Pebbles are a… a mer secret?”
He moved in silence, lifting two shades of pebbles before humming. “Yes. Pick.” One pebbled a blotched black, it was no hard choice to pick the softer teal pebble. Brae slotted it in his pile before his thin lips twitched. “Can I see?”
“No.” His smile fell, and his arm trembled beneath the stones. Had they not threatened to fall, the paper would’ve been in his grasp by then. “How will you take them all with you? Do you have something to carry them in?”
On your next afternoon by his side, Brae fawned over the netting pouch with holes just small enough pebbles wouldn’t slip through. He entrusted them to you overnight for safe keeping, had watched you clutch your bag tight as it weighed you down walking along the cove, and was quick to welcome you back, already settled and sprawled against the sand. He hadn’t understood the purpose of snow angels nor sand angels, but his arms turned out in the sand, close enough to snag your shorts, until he left you again.
From that day, your time together crept earlier. Unintentionally, but he always waited no matter how early you came to the cove, and he began returning your questions. Never telling the mer secret of why he hoarded colourful pebbles, but little questions, the most repeated being why you refused to show him his portrait, and you had to swat him away from your paper each time. On hotter days when the rocky shade didn’t suffice, he crept closer until his cheek nestled to your thigh beneath the shade of your sketchbook and when a quiet overcame you, his fingers ran along your forearm, following the twitching in your hand as you drew him laying against you.
Once, he slept on your lap. The running of claws fell low and only then you succumbed, carefully tucking back the dried ringlets from his smoothed forehead. Little scales scattered his jaw and glided beneath your fingers, though you stopped yourself from following them further when he turned closer and against your palm.
You missed him when you were home. On the evenings with only a nearly finished portrait to call company, you missed laying with him.
It hadn’t taken long for you walk down late one night, a half-opened bottle tucked near your supplies. Being near the cove now helped calm you, even if you came now only to settle against the familiar rocks and close your eyes to the crashing waves. Like the swaying of your boat, the faint warmth of sand beneath you lulled you, and you woke only to a soft whisper of your name.
“I drank… I drank this.”
Damp hair fell to your lap, a quiet groan turned into your thighs. The now emptied bottle fell into the sand and rolled down when Brae laughed, at first quietly, before turning and reaching out to your face. The touch of his claws fell to a loose embrace around your neck, where now he swallowed.
This late, you didn’t want to ask why he was here, how he had known – if he had even known, or if he came just like you. You only wanted to enjoy his company, however… inebriated. It hadn’t been much alcohol, and you would only feel slightly lightheaded had you finished it, but with Brae running his claws down your chest, it had to have been a little much for him.
“Wanna see,” he whispered – slurred, trying and failing to lean up on an elbow. “Me. Show… show me.”
Perhaps through pity, you did. Only through pity, and not from the slow rolling of heat in the pit of your stomach from his claws flexing, drawing you down closer as you opened to the page. It had come a long way, far from ever doing justice to the creature gasping, his defined jaw lowering and dark eyes lifting to you, but you welcomed the flush of pride from his growing smile.
“You make me look pretty. Pretty here,” he tapped the unfinished page. “Am not-not so pretty.”
Your voice came out a whisper as you returned the sketchbook, empty bottle with it. “You don’t think so?”
“Me? Pretty?” Brae huffed, a hot breath blowing his dried hair. Falling in long ringlets, your fingers twitched and in the hopes he wouldn’t remember, you reached out to tuck it back. “My tribe. They’re pretty. Pretty. Not me.”
His cheek turned into your palm when you traced the smoother scales scattering his jaw, down to the dip of his collarbones. “Did they tell you that?”
“Always. Not-I’m not them-like them,” he mumbled, losing himself to the alcohol still thick on his breath. “Never one of them.”
The sincerity sickened you. You wished your art could be better, so Brae saw a true reflection of himself but if it couldn’t be, if your work wasn’t enough, then all you could do was say so. “I think you’re beautiful,” you whispered looking out to the calming see, so lost in it you hadn’t noticed Brae shifting closer until he was level with you. “You are. Your colourings and how you lay in the sun and… you’re beautiful.”
You had more to say, so much more, but sand became your pillow. It dirtied your hair with your head tipping further back, a deeper angle to the kiss with Brae’s thumb pressing down on your chin. His parting lips carried a salty tang, a stronger sense of your emptied alcohol, but it fell away with his breaths hastening when his curling tongue tasted you, too.
Those same lips rose into a sly smile when you found the strength to reopen your fallen eyes and found Brae kissing himself lower. Drunken touches only minutes ago felt coherent now, bunching up your shirt for his lips to warm your stomach. Pressed beneath the muscle of his tail, a slow friction worked you into a heat but he fell further with his kisses nesting lower, a pause when he tugged on your shorts.
Every touch made you tremble. Brae settled between your legs and the sight alone was burning through you. He ran soft fingers down, following your stiffened cock as it twitched and ached. His tongue jutted through his lips to the side almost in thought, a breath before his fingers stroked up your length.
“All this for calling you beautiful?”
The merman’s head canted and that curling tongue flicked up the underside of your cock. Brae’s kiss rounded against your tip until he had you hard in his mouth and your eyes rolling back from the heat of him. For a creature of spines and claws and fangs, he kissed you reverently, deeper breaths growing shallow until he swallowed around you.
Through blurring eyes, barely lifting from the sand feeling hotter beneath you, you watched and felt his lips closing around you, groaning with his flattening of his tongue along the sensitive skin. Brae braced a hand on your tensing thigh and when the other stroked lower, a slight touch of claws grazing, you groaned and rolled your hips deeper against his hollowed throat.
Soft hair threaded around your hand. His growl rumbled deep to your hips as he bowed with your guidance, arching up until his throat tightened against you. Heat rushed in your stomach and his thick tongue swirled across your tip. The warmth of his lips fell down to your thighs the longer your body trembled.
“No.” Gentle fingers pinched your jaw until your lips met his. He tasted of saltwater and you and faint alcohol, nipping your tongue. “For… for being you.”
Until the sheen left his eyes, his smile no longer lopsided, Brae rested against you. Passing whispers came beneath the darkening sky and many were from you; with each whisper of his beauty, though you burned saying it, he turned impossibly closer and ghosted lips down your throat, your chest, wherever you were nearest.
“Remind me to call you beautiful more often,” you said, leaning over him. Weak arms ran up to your neck and it felt like a goodbye when he kissed you sweeter. No teeth caught your lips and no claws curled into your nape, only a touch of foreheads before he struggled into the water.
He had told you not to watch – “it’s embarrassing,” he’d frowned, the dead weight of his tail dragging in the sand – but you watched him go, and it was the last you saw of him for almost a month.
Your corner of the cove remained abandoned by the merman. No marks in the sand were left to show if he had ever come and from there, you couldn’t see far out to the waves, not like a mer could. If he watched you where you waited for him with your heavy bag and a nearly finished portrait, he never came.
Floating no longer felt right. Being on the water wasn’t right. This beach was wrong without a glimmer of navy flitting near you and on the sunniest days, the water almost clear, a hint of scales wouldn’t be missed when you stared down. The portrait was finished now; it had been finished for days.
If something had happened to him-
The thought burned in your throat and you swallowed it back.
Worse: if something hadn’t happened to him, Brae chose not to see you.
And if Brae truly avoided you, he couldn’t stop whatever creature had begun bumping under your boat. The surface barely rose with the smallest of waves but your boat rocked again, until water splashed with every jolt, not so different from the day Brae had almost toppled you, but different in every way.
Brighter scales darted beneath you before you ducked back into the – relative – safety of the boat. This wasn’t your merman, but the churning in your stomach made you think it was his tribe. For whatever reason, they taunted you, and at least two were on you now, countering the other’s hits so all you could was curl your knuckles against the bench until they ached.
You were going to be sick.
What could a frail oar do against creatures like them?
You were going to be really, really sick.
Any option was as bad as the other. Shore was too far to swim to if you wanted to avoid a watery grave. Trying to row and lowering the oar into water would be surrendering your only paddle. You couldn’t leave your boat. The portrait bundled on your lap would be ruined; they would ruin it.
It stopped with a heavier jolt, tipping so far water flooded your feet. The jaunts fell away minutes ago but your head swum too much for you to notice anything more than the shaking in your knees, chest braced against your thighs. One final shove to your boat shoved everything against you forward. Your bag skidded, the bench almost giving out beneath you, towels tangling, but the final shove didn’t topple you.
It surged closer to shore.
Only the faintest glimmer of navy disappeared when you looked back.
Water hadn’t felt right because it wasn’t. The rumours of mer weren’t folktale falsehoods. Maybe Brae wasn’t like them, but they tried to overturn you. They tried to ruin you and your portrait and had they succeeded, the promenade steady under your running feet wouldn’t have been something you were likely to experience again.
Leaving the cities had been your distraction. Leaving your family and friends for a calmer life by the beach had always been your dream, to turn to a simpler, less stressful life, yet the beach couldn’t be your solace anymore. Thinking of even your boat made you lurch to your feet in need of something to occupy you, anything but that merman lurking in the sea, anything but the creature you still wanted to see again, the same whose face mocked you from a hidden sketchbook.
After hardly any time at all, the sudden loss almost brought you to your knees. If this was grief, you didn’t want it. If that pang in your chest was heartbreak, you didn’t want it. Flames came so near to the portrait born of hours and sun and kisses it singed, but burning the paper felt like a burning your heart from your chest.
One last time.
One last hope.
Once more, before you burned him from your thoughts. The same taunts that occupied you like intrusions softened at night, when you imagined that in place of your fist was his touch, slender fingers rolling where you cock twitched beneath him. They came in dreams, in moments you lost concentration, and stalked you down to the cove where you settled the bag, the portrait tucked beside a lighter and driftwood.
Whispers of your name from the stirring waves doused the fire in your chest. Brae made it no further than the reach of waves when you collapsed against him, rambling to his lips, “it’s done. I finished it for you but-“
“It will be beautiful.” Brae framed your face in cold and trembling hands. “Like you.”
There was a haste to his kiss unlike before. When he teased you before with light nips rousing your desire, those touches tore back your shirt and bared you to the cold night. Brae wasted not one breath that was better spent settling against you pushed apart thighs, where the hard palm of his hand fell low to rub over your shorts until he coaxed you to roll up into his touch. Slender fingers curled around your hardening cock and stroked how you had dreamed of for weeks, the pad of his thumb following up to tease the seeping slit at the head.
“I want to touch you too,” you rasped. Brae’s laugh softened in the whistles of wind at your grunt when he rubbed tighter to your thick base, but he was soon to gasp with your fingers curling into the rougher scales on his hips until he dragged against you. “Here?”
Not even the crashing waves at his back could drown out the small whine. Where his taut stomach melded with the lightest of his scales, a slick coated them. The touch of it burned against your fingertips, tracing the swollen slit. He pumped your cock in his tight fist how you teased him, arching up when he ground down, his erection rising thick from the slit.
From laying over you, Brae’s trembling lips brushed yours once more. The slow fall of his forehead brushed your hair, his curls loose against your cheek and fluttering with every deep breath. How long he could breathe without struggle on land changed, and the touch of your hips rolling up, rolling against him, clearly took a toll, shorter gasps nestling into your neck. This was an exertion for him; how he trembled at your thumb following where his hand, rolling over the slick on the swollen, purple head.
Grinding his cock to yours came with difficulty as his tail dragged in sand, but a shock of pleasure bolting up to your crown until you strained to rut against him again. The desperation locked in your bodies wouldn't settle for anything less than his cock against yours. Soft blue and deeper navy nearer the tip, your mouth dried. The memory of his lopsided smile after stealing your alcohol struck you, too similar how he slurred you name from curling his fingers and gripping your cocks together. The cry lodged in your throat muffled against the slope of his throat where you kissed the scales there, chasing the rush of his pulse beneath his jaw.
Slick from his slit and hot, it was too much to bite back every moan and curse when he rolled his hips in time with yours. Brae learned fast. His palm rolled your sac slowly, drawing rougher pants, but it was a tighter rub that made you buck up. Your cock jutted against his base, far thicker and swollen, but against the wetter scales and he cried, “again. Closer, please.”
His hot touch stirred you into a delirious high. Brae was twitching, his body rocking hard and harder when you met him faster, arching up to graze the slick, sensitive skin of his slit.
"I want you," he breathed, disoriented kisses slowing when he trembled. "Come. Come for me."
If not for him, you dragged against his waist so you could feel the heat of him yourself. Brae’s fingers locked and he felt it as you did, your cock stiff when you came against his stomach, his scales, rasping when he rutted into his palm and a thicker release came minutes later against your thighs after you traced where his cock thickened at the slit.
In the moment his final gasp left him and Brae fell against you, he ought to be drawn, to be remembered forever. Soft arms wrapped you close to the warmth of him, away from the colder winds in the shelter of the rocks. Hot sweat glistened on his scales. It stuck your hair to your cheeks, where he brushed it away with kisses and closed eyes.
“Do you think anyone saw us?”
Brae's breath caught, but he swallowed past it. His knuckles grazed down your chest and up again. Stray scratches stung beneath the touch and his parted lips kissed it away. "I hope so," he breathed, and the words stirred something in your chest. Something primal and prideful; you wanted to be seen with him, this merman come to you one day, who decided they wanted you. "You were very loud."
Panting to his chest, you smiled. "And you were beautiful."
If there were mer watching, you hadn't noticed.
No head rested heavy on your chest when you woke. Evening had been a blanket to his embrace, but the stars were your only companion at the cove. Sand settled without hint of a trail leading down to the sea and if it had been windy, you might have excused it, pardoned the long-lasting cold on your bare body.
Those questions he had brushed away with a press of his tail to your hips rose to your throat like a fuel on fire. Brae came back. Brae left, after taking you on the beach. He returned to the sea and he left you alone and bare and shivering. He abandoned you where his tribe could see, where they could reach you and your bag-
Your bag.
It had been right there, right on the rocks and wedged firm. No wind could part it from them. No wind had, and no wind would lay it so carefully by the sloping of the beach, the flap resting open. The bag looked deflated, almost like… like it was empty.
“This isn’t funny,” you called out. It was a joke. It had to be a joke. If not a joke then something far, far crueller and each staggering step nearer the waves was a twist of the knife in your stomach. “Brae?”
Harsh water frothed at your ankles. It rose in spitting shivers up to your knees then thighs, where the evening’s memories dried and washed away. The waters this shallow were clear of mer but not of what you prayed was litter. Up to your hips now, stumbling in choppy waves and the cry that tore from you was unholy. It burned up through throat like bile and stung in your eyes. It stung in your chest where your ribs caved, the soaked papers and hours of nights in your lounge wasted in one, cruel jaunt.
Not just his portrait wrecked on the waters he crawled from, but your sketchbook.
How you found your way home was a miracle. You should have stayed in the water. You should have let Brae drown you, too.
Had his tribe done it? Had they been there while he stroked your cheek and lifted your chin in a soft kiss, his scales warming where your thighs tightened? That was all you could think and all you could bear to think. If it were anything more – if he really was so cruel, you’d rather never know, would rather blame it on his tribe for tearing him away.
You could drown your boat like your sketches. That cove belonged to him. It belonged to his tribe and you wouldn’t go near the water again, not willingly and if you saw him again, it would be in nightmares.
The only family you had lived in the cities far from you and too far for them to consider buying your boat, even taking it off your hands. The wood of it was old and would burn on a fire; best to be burned completely than sunken. Brae didn’t deserve anything of yours. He’d drowned your heart with your treasure.
If this was how mer lured humans out, you weren’t against following.
Finding your boat moored and undamaged rose with a sting. The cruelty of his tribe ruined the wood beneath the water from their earlier taunting. You wished they had done more. If his tribe had sunken it, finding a dark bundle of seaweed cradling pebbles wouldn’t have made your legs sway beneath you. Whatever the mer secret behind them was, it wasn’t enough to entice you back. They weighed down your boat as they weighed on your shoulders but in settling into it before setting it alight, you couldn’t help but lift one.
It was the pebble he had asked you of, choosing from two. In your hand it felt like his scales, smooth and cold and wet.
It was still wet.
Pebbles scattered among larger stones as it fell from your hand but you didn’t watch them fall. You watched the fingertips careful on your arm, how they traced down your tense muscles with an unwelcome familiarity.
“The pebbles,” you seethed. “What do they mean?”
His touch softened and both hands rose to stroke against your unyielding fist. “Do you like them?”
Brae yelped as the favoured pebble smacked his forehead; you held another ready, but you hoped not to use it. Not to hurt him. The pain fresh in your chest urged to you but you couldn’t, and the tenderness in his hands slipping through your unfurling fingers held you closer.
His face scrunched. “When we wish to court a mate, we present pebbles. Do you like them?”
Brae never moved so slowly before – before he had wounded you enough to want nothing more than to hurt him; him, with the claws gentle on your palm and sharp teeth behind lips gracing your knuckles. No smile warmed his harsh face. Some satisfaction warmed you in shadows creeping beneath his eyes, where he lifted your palm. Loose tickled your fingers.
“I left my tribe.”
Brae’s whine quieted when you said, not in question, “taunting me wasn’t enough for them to accept you, was it?”
“I’m sorry.”
“Will they welcome you back if I take your pebbles?” Water splashed with his surging up and it was then you succumbed, lifting your hand to frame his dripping face. Every whisper and clashing apology fell beneath you, blood rushing in your ears from just his lips turning to your wrist. “I’m leaving, Brae. Pretend I accepted. Say you drowned me if it helps you return to your tribe. Why you would want to is beyond me, but-”
“We mate for life. This is me. These,” he whispered, and beneath the water, distorted netting carrying more pebbles swayed when he lifted another. “These are me. Proposal of courtship.”
Approaching you had to be at their insistence. The threat to topple your boat them, too, and why Brae had insisted on land. Safer, he’d said, but that was where he hurt you more than they ever had. They may have told him to use you or trick you to love him, but it hurt the same, at their tricks or his.
He hadn’t looked up from where you stroked his cheekbones until you asked, “what does it mean to leave a tribe?”
“If I stay, I trespass.”
“What do mer do to trespassers?” Brae turned his face into your palm and your stomach fell. The choice before you wasn’t one you welcomed or even wanted to consider, but you were already reaching for the pebble you had thrown at him and curling it in your hand. “If you follow me, that is your choice. I owe you nothing. Even this is more than you deserve.”
The boat was tipping.
“But if you follow me,” you drew in a sharp breath. “I say when the courting is over and if I accept you. If I refuse, you respect that.”
His breath warmed your lips.
“And I will never draw you again.”
It was a lie. That morning, his face plagued every breath. Every fleeting memory of his touch consumed you. Scatterings of scales covered old papers and already your fingers itched for more, to purge him from you, but when you accepted – if you accepted him, only then would you ever consider sharing your art with him again.
Burning your boat could wait until the water dried from the sloping of scales to your chest, lips soft on yours and apologies sweet on his tongue. It could wait until he followed you wherever you chose, offering pebbles and nights sprawled on warm sand, where you always woke with a head nestled against your throat.
When.
#exophilia#exophilia writing#monster romance#monster x reader#merman x reader#mer x reader#monster x human#merman x human#male mer#merman#kim monsterlings writing#tropemas#Brae the mer#mxm#mlm#dare#male x male#mer boyfriend#merman boyfriend#tropes#dared trope#kim-monsterlings writing#Brae the merman
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mango, m | jjk | 2
pairing(s): jungkook x reader
summary: A love story between bad boy Jeon Jungkook and a strange girl with mango eating obsession.
warnings: rated M (18+) for language; mentions of parental abuse and suicide; suggestive words/actions; alcohol consumption; mentions of nightmares plaguing the reader; non-idol!AU - university!AU; badboy!Jungkook x sociallyawkward!reader, ft bestfriend!Hoseok and friendly!Namjoon
--
1.
-
Your head leaned against the wall of the library. Too many books around you, research paper already outlined for you seminar class. That was good. You only needed a partial outline next week and you would finish tweaking the outline tomorrow. You phone was open beside your papers, screen blaring at you.
Jungkook’s text, asking where you were. Your reply.
Library.
No further information. A guy like that probably never stepped foot in a library his entire life.
You closed your eyes. Placed your arms over your papers, sighing softly. You were in one of the study rooms in the upper floors of the library, where all the scientific journals were.
Why had you given him your phone number like that?
Self-destruction.
You turned your head the other way, eyeballs shifting under your closed lids.
Guys like that only cause self-destruction.
Your thumb ran over your glossy nails. You wondered if he would be mad at you for associating yourself with someone who looked dangerous and wild. Maybe he would tell you it was a bad idea. Maybe he could make you see reason. All you had to do was call him and ask for his opinion.
I’m sorry, Hoseok.
You ran your other thumb over the nails on your other hand. The little stickers caused raised bumps, but none of them had peeled off yet. You pressed your thumb down on one of them. At least he was still there, with you in this way.
A soft blackness swallowed you up, taking you into deep slumber.
Then, a coated sweetness pressed against your lips. A familiar taste. You opened your mouth and the thin, flat piece of dried fruit slid partway in. Your teeth stopped it. Spun it slowly with your tongue. Then it went into your mouth. Chewed.
Opened your eyes.
Jeon Jungkook, standing over you.
Holding a pack of dried mango. Eating a piece, his straight white teeth gnawing at it. Pink lips closing around the orange fruit. The mole under his lip danced with movement. His brown eyes were darker due to the harsh fluorescent overhead light. Tan skin glowing, black hair slicked back with too much gel, revealing his clean undercut. Leather blazer over a low-cut black t-shirt. Black jeans. Black backpack far too deflated to be holding much.
“Don’t know how you eat this stuff,” Jungkook said absentmindedly. He sat down on the chair next to you. Scooted closer. You could smell his cologne. Something sharp, but clean. “It’s not bad, but I couldn’t eat packs and packs of it like you.”
You lifted your head. “Habit.”
He nodded. “I noticed you do it whenever I talk to you.”
You chewed slowly.
“I don’t talk to people.”
“Hmm.”
He looked you over. Black turtleneck. Maroon oversized hoodie. Black flared miniskirt. Black opaque tights. Black boots with a ten-centimeter platform.
“What do you do for fun?”
You reached over and stuck your hand into the pack of dried mango. Picked a piece and placed it in your mouth. Sat back in your chair as you chewed on it.
“I don’t have fun.”
Jungkook sucked his teeth. It seemed like he was trying to unstick some candied fruit from them. “You seem like the creative type though. Moody and artistic.”
You shifted your eyes, staring into the bookshelves. “Creation is meaningless without an audience.”
Jungkook scratched his nose. “Maybe you just don’t want anyone to know what you’re thinking.”
You stopped chewing.
You turned your head to face Jungkook. He frowned at the packet of dried mango and placed it on the desk, sliding it to you. Then he noticed you staring at him. His lips curved into a slow, sly smile.
“You doing anything tonight?”
-
You didn’t go to parties.
Never. In your entire life. Not even a birthday party. You didn’t have birthday parties yourself either.
You only remembered beatings on your birthday.
You stood at the edge of the lawn, looking up at the large house. Too many people. Too much drinking. Too much danger. You reached into the center pocket of your maroon hoodie, pulling out a piece of dried mango. Slowly placing it in between your teeth. Spinning it. A couple was making out on the porch, pressed against the wall. Sucking the dried mango in your mouth. On the other side of the porch, a girl was slapping another guy and tossing the contents of a red plastic cup at him.
Chewed.
You shouldn’t have come. This wasn’t where you belonged.
A strong hand gripped your upper left arm. Familiar fingers. Long, strong ones, with small tattoos.
“How long you been standing out here?”
Alcohol on his breath.
“How much mango you consumed in that time?”
You held out an empty cellophane bag.
“Wow. Impressive.”
You chewed. The fingers let you go. They danced up your shoulder.
“You don’t seem to be bothered when I touch you.”
You swallowed.
“That’s because it’s obvious what you want.”
Jeon Jungkook chuckled. Deep and amused.
“But talking bothers you?”
You exhaled. Took out another piece.
“Words, intentional or not, leave everlasting scars far longer than a meaningless fuck.”
You placed it in between your teeth.
“Do you think it will be meaningless?” His voice was low, treacherous.
You paused. His fingertips balanced on the shoulder of your hoodie. A gust was wind made your black skirt flutter against your thighs. You felt nothing. Not cold, not hot. Nothing but those fingertips balanced on your shoulder. You sucked in the piece of mango and chewed. You could walk away. Not provoke him anymore and not try to walk through that fire.
You could back away and continue on your tightrope, high above.
But if you were already standing on this street, in front of this house, didn’t that mean your feet were already on the asphalt? Weren’t you already on the ground, wandering down that lost highway?
“There is no meaning in the arms of a stranger.”
You reached for your hoodie pocket again but his fingers wrapped around yours. Stopping you. Pulling you to him. Face shining in the moonlight, brows furrowed as he looked down at your face. Thick silver chain glinting at his throat. Dark hair slicked back but falling apart due to the events of the night. Eyes like the dark side of the moon.
He leaned down.
You could feel his breath against yours. Alcoholic, but somehow not unpleasant. It mixed with his sharp, clean cologne and the leather of his jacket. You saw his eyes flicker. He was really staring deeply into your eyes. He was as handsome as everyone said he was. You tilted your head at him.
Guys like him were always looking for a target. A puzzle to solve. The harder and more difficult it was, the better the thrill. That’s how it was and that’s how Jeon Jungkook was. So, you stood there. Waiting for him to do it.
Thing was, Jungkook wasn’t doing anything.
He finally backed off; expression unreadable. You pulled your hand out of his.
“Let’s go on a walk. I have to sober up.”
You looked from the house to him. He cocked his head. You two began to walk, stepping into the moonlight. Not touching each other, but walking side by side. The silence was deafening. He wasn’t speaking to you. Not even looking at you. You placed your earbuds into your ear and put on some violin music.
“What are you listening to?”
You jumped, surprised he noticed. Jungkook tilted his head at you. You handed him one of the Samsung buds. He placed it in his ear, tucking his hair back. Profile illuminated by the moon, nodded slowly at he listened.
And then you two walked, serenaded by violins.
-
Jungkook texted you and showed up in the library again. You were in the middle of writing your seminar research paper. To be honest, he was a welcome distraction. The scientific articles were giving you a headache.
He handed you a piece of dried mango before speaking.
“Let’s date.”
You blinked at him. Jungkook grabbed a seat and sat down, taking out a slice himself. You placed the piece of dried mango in your mouth and chewed slowly. He watched you the entire time, chewing with you, staring at your lips. You swallowed, sighing.
"Jungkook, you don't want to date me."
He nibbled at another piece of dried mango. "Pretty sure I do."
You took in a deep breath, feeling the annoyance rise in your chest. "Your body is the literal reincarnation of Adonis himself and you radiate bad boy vibes like nobody's business. You would ruin your image by dating the strange girl with a dried mango obsession."
Jungkook chewed slowly. "That's the first time your tone has changed with me."
You froze, realizing that too. Realizing that, for once, you were actually irate instead of being objective or apathetic about it. You were not making an ambiguous comment or philosophizing humanity. You were just stating what you were thinking straight up.
"And, anyway, you're the literal reincarnation of sex goddess Aphrodite herself, so there should be no problem if you're worried about looks."
"That's not..." You cut yourself off, not bothering to correct him. "You can barely see my body."
Jungkook's eyes traveled down to your legs. Your black pantyhose-covered legs, with your short red skirt and black hoodie. He reached out and grabbed your hand. You tried to pull away, but his grip was like iron.
"True, your skin is always covered," he mumbled.
Then Jungkook pressed your hand into his crotch.
Your eyes widened, feeling his semi-hard length in his jeans. He let go of your hand and you recoiled as if burned. Did he really just–?
He gnawed thoughtfully. "And yet every time I hear your voice, that happens to me."
You narrowed your eyes at him. "Sexual attraction is not a solid foundation to a relationship."
"It's not," Jungkook agreed, grabbing another piece of dried mango. Then his eyes flickered to you, dark and serious. "I just didn't like how you dismissed my physical attraction to you so easily." He went back to nibbling.
You looked away; ears hot. "In the end, all you want is to boast that you fucked me."
"That was my original intent, yes." You snapped your head back, furrowing your brows. Jungkook inspected the dried fruit, licking some sugar off. Your stomach flipped a little as you watched his pink tongue. "But now I want to take you on dates, hold your hand, and make you eat real meals that aren't only composed of candied mango."
You looked down at your lap. "I'm not a hand-holding kind of girl."
"Then I'll hold your ass."
A muscle in your eyebrow twitched. You glared at him, but he was smiling, popping the mango in his mouth.
"One date. And then we'll see how it goes."
You closed your eyes. Inhaled deeply. You could say no. You could refuse and tell him to leave you alone and never speak to him again. You could and maybe you should. Because once he knew... he would know. You chewed on your lip. Fear was an understatement. And you were afraid because you knew the truth. If there was a flame between you two, the truth would likely snuff it out.
Was that better or worse than you smothering it yourself?
"Before we go on a date," you said quietly but firmly. "I need to show you something."
-
“Okay. What is it that you have to show me?”
You were standing in Jeon Jungkook’s apartment. Different day, different clothes. He was wearing a loose leather jacket, white shirt, and distressed acid-wash jeans. He stuck his hands in his pockets. Black hair slicked back as usual, sculpted dark brows framing intense brown eyes. Even though he was dressed like a delinquent, his apartment was well-kept and clean. It was one of the student apartment complexes, decently expensive, segregated for men and women. Not that it mattered, since you were obviously standing there right now.
You were wearing your black turtleneck and flared black miniskirt. But instead of your usual opaque pantyhose, you were wearing black thigh-high socks. They made you very uncomfortable and not because Jungkook was staring at the sliver of exposed flesh. To be honest, you couldn’t care less if he was staring or not.
You chewed on you lip, clutching your messenger bag.
You really wondered if you should show Jungkook. Your thumb ran over your nails. Painted royal blue with raindrop crystals. You asked Hoseok to do them for you this time. He was excited to pick a design and style for you. Asked you what it was for and you said you just felt like it.
Hoseok was very happy to hear that.
Jungkook seemed to sense your unease.
“Are you okay?” he asked gently. “Do you want a piece of man–”
You shook your head furiously. Just do it. Do it and maybe he’ll leave you alone. Do it and he’ll understand this is a bad, bad idea.
You took a deep breath and bent at the waist. Then you yanked down both your thigh-highs, all the way to your ankles.
Jungkook gasped sharply.
You stared down at your legs. At the knife scars, mostly on your calves. Some white and thin, but there were a few big dark ones, knotted and twisted from the skin trying to grow back evenly but failing. Your legs were quite pale too. They never saw the sun.
You hated looking at them. They reminded you of why you had nightmares.
“What… happened?”
You didn’t look at him. His normally smooth, suave voice was trembling. Confused.
You sucked in your lips and clicked your tongue.
“My father was not a nice man. I was an only daughter and he was not happy about it. Perhaps he was never happy about life to begin with. He reminded my mother and me about it constantly.” You straightened, still not looking at Jungkook, but no longer wanting to look at yourself either. “He beat us up a lot. At the time, I really thought that was how it was. Men lost their temper sometimes. Happens. What else am I supposed to think?” You shrugged. “But it was always slapping around, the occasional punch. Not that bad, perhaps.”
You had to remember to breathe. Breathe.
“But when I was twelve, thirteen, it got worse. I don’t know if it was because my mom was slowly fighting back or if work became more stressful and he acted out, but the reason doesn’t matter. He simply got worse. Things thrown at us. Years of insults made them cut deeper, harder. He pulled a knife on me, when I was home alone and my mom was at work.”
You had to swallow hard, trying not to go back there. Trying not to get too detailed, because the nightmares already did that for you. You pulled up your sleeves. There were a few unpleasant scars there too, but nowhere near as bad to your legs.
“Anyway,” you continued. “I think he thought I was bleeding out or dead. My mom, feeling that something was off, decided to come home early. I don’t think I would be alive if she hadn’t thought to do that.” You inhaled deeply, pausing for a moment before continuing. “My father took his car and drove to the other side of town. Drove to a deserted area and ended his own life with the knife he cut me up with. I don’t know if it was guilt or fear of being exposed. But it doesn’t matter. I went to the hospital and stayed there for a long, long time. Not because of the cuts or almost bleeding out, but because I had to talk to a lot of psychologists. A lot of counselors.”
You reached into your bag and pulled out the pack of dried mango. “My mom would buy me these. She couldn’t visit often. She had to sell the house and work overseas to pay all the medical bills. Maybe she has a hard time seeing me too.”
You chewed on your lip, shoving it back into your bag.
“I look more like my father, unfortunately. And, even though I understand what has happened to me, I can’t escape it. I see it every day in the mirror. I am reminded all the time. I can’t talk to people unless I’m eating dried mango. It’s a stupid tick, but my therapist told me once that it was better than cocaine, so, whatever, right?”
You chuckled darkly, feeling empty.
“And I have nightmares. They don’t go away. When I take medication, it gets worse, so I don’t try anymore.”
You kept your eyes on the wall, still not looking at him.
“You’re handsome, Jungkook. Handsome, decently smart, could clean up well,” you said, still gnawing on your lip. “I’m not pretty like the other girls you hang around with. I don’t get to wear what I want because I don’t want to be asked what is wrong with my skin. Sometimes, I wake up screaming, remembering everything that happened that night. I eat way too much dried mango and speak like a fucking robot.” You closed your eyes and sucked in a shuddering breath. “I spend a lot of time trying to not feel anything. I’m not okay. You shouldn’t date someone like me.”
Silence.
Ten seconds past.
Then, the creak of leather. You suddenly felt his presence right in front of you. Strong arms wrapped around you, holding you tight. The sharp, clean scent of his cologne, the thinness of the white shirt revealing his toned torso. Well, the reaction wasn’t disgust. Maybe it was pity and that was worse. You did not want a pity fuck.
“At the risk of something insensitive,” Jungkook murmured quietly into your hair. “Your battle scars are really fucking cool.”
… What?
You laughed.
You laughed, because, what? That wasn’t a reaction you expected. Your laugh was raspy and kind of gross, considering you hadn’t laughed like that in years. But you laughed into Jungkook’s chest, laughed because it was ridiculous, laughed because it was a little insensitive, laughed because you didn’t care. No one who knew about your scars ever said anything like that. Everyone else was very serious and solemn, pity in their eyes as you explained.
Jungkook buried his face into your hair. You could feel his smile.
“Your laugh is cute.”
You wheezed, shaking your head a little. “It isn’t. I didn’t even know I could laugh,” you choked out weakly, breathless.
You felt him kiss the top of your head. You froze, a shiver running through you.
“You know,” Jungkook murmured. “I was really nervous in the library when I was asking you out.”
You didn’t reply. Couldn’t breathe, really.
“I found myself continuously eating that mango. I think you rubbed off on me.”
You remembered. And then you realized.
“You only ate one piece though,” he muttered. “It made me even more nervous, honestly. I just kept eating to keep my mind off it.”
Was this… was this the first time you had an entire conversation with Jeon Jungkook without eating mango at one point?
The only person you weren’t like that with was Hoseok, and that was because he was your oldest friend. The only friend who knew it all, who witnessed your bruises and tear-stained cheeks. The only friend who saw you in hospital gowns and did his best to cheer you up. Drawing pictures with you, making bracelets. Telling you that it was going to be okay, that he was going to be your daily dose of sunshine, your hope, never getting discouraged. There weren’t romantic feelings between you two, but there was love, and you were eternally grateful that Hoseok never gave up on you.
Jeon Jungkook?
He was just the annoying kid who kept trying to copy your Chemistry homework.
“You’re… not that bad at Chemistry, are you?”
Jungkook chuckled. “Nah. I always do the homework. I just wanted to annoy you.”
“You are, indeed, very annoying.”
You two stood there, Jungkook hugging you, your thigh-highs at your ankles, clutching your bag. To be honest, you thought it would have been a lot weirder. But somehow, it was kind of nice. You were okay with it.
“Where do you want to go on our date?” Jungkook suddenly piped up.
You spoke into his chest. “We’re still going on a date?”
He hugged you tighter. “Yeah, of course.”
You were pressed against his body, held so close that your ribs felt like they were being crushed.
“Jungkook.”
“Hm?”
“Something is poking me.”
“… Please ignore him. He doesn’t know time and place.”
A few silent seconds passed.
“I mean, maybe you needed some reassurance that I still think you’re fine as hell.”
“He’s getting bigger.”
“I told you to ignore him.”
-
3.
--
masterpost
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Okay we never truly hear about Kaz's mother in the entire duology.
She could've died young but what if she didn't? What if she just left his father for whatever reasons?
Personally I always imagine she had some goals of her own that she wanted to achieve. So she left after a few years of Kaz's birth, promising her husband that she'll return when she has accomplished her goals. What if she even wrote to her husband Mr. Rietveld but he just decided to keep everything a secret because his sons weren't old enough to understand?
Then one day, on the Fifth Harbour, as the Wraith docks and Kaz waits silently for his girl, Captain Ghafa leaves the ship with some woman in tow.
As Inej approaches Kaz, she introduces him to this woman whom she met in the Wandering Isles and how her surname "Rietveld" immediately sparked Inej's curiosity.
But Kaz can't take it. He can recognize the woman's face any day. He still has a few hazy memories of her from his time as a child. And suddenly he's just mad because she has no right coming to see her son after so many years. And he's also angry at Inej for thinking it'd be a good idea.
So he leaves them on the dock.
Inej consoles Mrs. Rietveld, explaining how moody and immature her son can be sometimes. She takes the older woman with her to the Van Eck Mansion instead.
Jesper and Wylan are having a hard time believing any of it because Kaz truly never mentions his family so its easier to believe he just crawled out from some canal as the offspring of this Saintsforsaken city.
They all sit down and chat for a while, all of them telling her different stories about her son..also trying their best to not reveal he's gang leader.
Later that night when everyone's resigned to bed, Inej heads to the Slat. As expected, she finds Kaz up in his room with some extra pile of work.
He senses her immediately and scowls. There's a brief argument which ends with Inej simply settling down by the window and him scribbling on the ledgers, in complete silence.
"Before being a mother, she was just another human with dreams in her eyes. She still is." Inej says a while later.
He merely huffs in response.
"She deserves to tell her story. She deserves a chance, Kaz." Now Inej is looking hopefully at him. "Just listen to her. Talk."
Then she leaves, letting him have space and time to think.
...
Three to four days later, Kaz finally pays a visit to the Van Eck Mansion and after a sip of tea, everyone leaves the mother and son to have their conversation. Kaz can feel not even Inej is around, allowing him privacy.
And they do talk. Hesitantly at first but then it goes on for hours— about how Mrs. Rietveld returned but found no one at their home, Kaz telling her about his father's tragic death and simply saying plague took Jordie (no details), and so on..
When they realise its already time for dinner, they get up to call for the others. Mrs. Rietveld has a big motherly smile on her face, thankful that she's been forgiven. Kaz's smile is faint but its there, glad that she hasn't asked anything about his profession. But he can tell that she has a hunch. Either ways, both of them are euphoric that they have some family alive.
They all laugh over Jesper's jokes at the dinner table, Wylan tries his best to stop him and Marya makes a comment or two. Inej looks at Kaz to find him already staring at her, his expression a reverent one.
Later that night, when everyone's asleep, Kaz and Inej are the only one's sitting by the fire.
"We're planning to visit my hometown." He speaks up. "To pay a visit to my father and brother's graves."
Inej nods. "I'm happy for you two."
"Come with us." Kaz requests, reaching out with a gloved hand and touches one of hers.
She accepts his offer and they sit like that, hands clasped together. "If that is what you want."
"Inej.." he calls, several minutes later.
"Yes, Kaz?"
"Thank you..for bringing her back to me."
And she smiles then, the same enchanting smile that always renders him breathless. "You're welcome."
#six of crows#kaz brekker#inej ghafa#kaz rietveld#mrs. rietveld#kanej#crooked kingdom#grishaverse#just another thought that crossed my mind#i dunno consider this a headcanon ✌😬#soc headcanon#kaz brekker headcanons#kanej headcanon
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Tear You Apart
Chapter 3/4
AO3 Link:
https://archiveofourown.org/works/32168824/chapters/80048179
Pairing:
Laszlo x Reader
Summary:
Mere months after the conclusion of the Beecham case, Dr.Kreizler and his associates are asked once again to solve a new series of murders that plague the streets of New York. They are joined by the alienist’s new assistant, who’s presence soon unravels startling revelations. Not only within the case, but also within the mind of one of their own.
(This story is set between the events of Season 1 and Season 2)
Warnings:
Murder Mystery, Graphic Description of Corpses, slight dark!Laszlo (kinda. Think Will “This is my design” Graham), Eventual Romance, Eventual Smut (MINORS DNI), Minor Violence, Friends to Lovers,Assistant, Boss/Employee Relationship,Tension, Sexual Tension, Mutual Pining, Kidnapping, Sexual Assault, Implied/Referenced Abuse
(More Future Warnings TBD)
Notes:
Adding an extra warning for this chapter, just in case.
This chapter deals with themes of violence, kidnapping, captivity, non-consensual touching, non-consensual groping, and implied abuse.
Chapter 3: Lily
Dr. Kreizler was not a man who considered himself superstitious.
Ever since he was a boy, he clung to his curiosity, searching for answers through science rather than religion in order to understand the world around him, even if it left his reputation tarnished to the more traditionally-raised, God-fearing socialites of New York. Yet, even as a child, there had always been a darkness that surrounded him, drawing in trouble wherever he went. No, Laszlo was not superstitious, but there seemed no other term to describe himself other than cursed.
You had been missing for two days, and even logic and reason could not explain why history seemed destined to repeat itself.
Following your night at the opera, Kreizler had thought it odd that you had not appeared at the Institute the following day. You had not seemed unwell, during your outing- quite the opposite, actually- and yet the fact remained that your presence was notably absent. At first, the alienist pushed his worry aside. After all, you had spent what was supposed to be a night of rest by his side. He reasoned that perhaps you had simply drained yourself, driving yourself to exhaustion with both the investigation and the concern you had displayed for him. But what truthfully unsettled him was the lack of warning of your absence. It was unlike you.
Regardless, even with your absence, Kreizler quickly worked through the day's sessions and duties, leaving most of the day free to continue working on the investigation. Your theory the day before had intrigued him, and gave valuable insight into what the killer's motives and background could be. With a newfound momentum, Laszlo called for Stevie, sending the ward to gather his colleagues here at the Institute, in order to follow this new train of thought. He also instructed Stevie to find you, deciding that it would be best to check on you, if only to calm his own anxieties. With that, all that was left to do was wait.
Marcus and Lucius were the first to arrive, punctual as always. Not wishing to waste any time, the twins immediately went to discuss their new findings with the doctor, picking out bits of information that may be relevant to figuring out the killer's identity. Kreizler listened, drawing connections to their findings with the theory you had created. John was the next to arrive, quickly followed by Sara. The two had not had much to work with, in terms of narrowing down who the killer may be, but found a couple police reports and articles that had spoken about similar incidents. Laszlo nodded, giving his own opinions and comments occasionally, but his mind continued to drift elsewhere. He had pulled out his pocket watch, when he heard a new set of footsteps. Quickly, he looked up, only to see Stevie once again. Ushering the boy inside, he asked if he had found you.
"I tried, Dr. Kreizler, but I couldn't find her anywhere." Stevie explained. "Even went by the house a few times, but no one ever answered. Her door was locked, so I thought maybe she came back here."
Laszlo sighed, audibly upset by the news. "Right, thank you Stevie."
This caught the attention of everyone in the room. After the boy left the room, Sara turned to Laszlo.
"Has something happened?" She asked, sensing Laszlo's growing worry. "How long has she been missing?"
The alienist simply shook his head. "Since this morning. At first I thought I was simply overreacting, but now I'm not so sure..."
Saying his admission aloud, Laszlo realized how troubling the whole situation had seemed. He explained where you had been last night, and how Kreizler had made sure to get you home safely after the opera, only to find that you had not come to the Institute today. John stood up from his seat, sending a glance to Sara and the brothers. They stayed silent, throwing silent glances back and forth, as if talking through looks alone. Finally, Sara stepped forward.
"I believe we should go to her home, ourselves. If we find that she is safe, then we can continue our investigation."
"What're you saying?" Lucius interjected, stunned by Sara's proposal. "What would you have us do? Having the five of us show up unannounced to (y/n)'s home might be an overreaction, considering it hasn't even been a day."
"You may be right," Sara starts. "but I'd like to make sure nothing has happened to her. I won't be able to shed the guilt if the worst has come."
Laszlo's heart sank at her words, reminding him of the very same doubts and worries he had told you of the night before.
Moving quickly, Laszlo went to grab his jacket, placing it on as he spoke. "I'm going-"
Once more, Lucius was wary. "Dr. Kreizler-"
"-stay here if you must, Lucius." He turned, leaving no room for argument as he walked towards the exit.
Reluctantly, Lucius followed after Laszlo, with Marcus's hand on his shoulder. Sara and John were already standing, ready to leave with the doctor, the same memory of the Beecham case fresh in their mind. With that, it didn't take long for them to reach your home, a mere few blocks away from the Institute. It was a relatively small building, not like the towering apartments that surrounded it on either side. It was as though someone had taken a cottage from the countryside and placed it right on the streets of New York.
There were no lights on, by the windows. A fact that shouldn't have been strange, considering it was now late into the day. Even so, it caused a sense of looming dread to enter Laszlo's mind. It felt so similar when he had returned to his own home all those months ago, as though time was repeating itself. First with Mary, now with you. As the group called and knocked on your door, drawing the scrutinizing and curious stares of the people passing by, Laszlo concluded that he must have been cursed. How else could he explain the events unfolding? Truly, everyone that was drawn towards him seemed destined to either leave or be taken from him.
There had been one thing that gave him hope that it would be different.
With Mary, she had been a constant, comforting presence. What he felt towards her had not always been there, not until much later after their first interactions, but it had been a source of happiness and warmth. The feeling of being known so completely, without needing so much as a word being spoken. Mary had brought out a kindness in him that even he had feared he did not possess. It had been sweet and somewhat innocent love, regardless of the rather unusual dynamic.
With you, it was a similar feeling, but not entirely the same. Where his feelings for Mary were more subtle, there had always been an underlying want in his relationship with you. At first, it had simply been a need to understand you. How you could be so similar to him, sharing that same curiosity for the human mind, yet still be able to catch him by surprise with your insights. He wanted to know about you, every little detail. Learning what made you tick, what made you happy, and what parts of your mind you had not shown to anyone else. Yet, even that wasn't enough. It wasn't until much recently, had Laszlo deduced the source of this incessant need for you. Where his feelings for Mary had made him recognize the lighter side of him, you made him realize that perhaps the darkness there was deeper than he knew. But he welcomed that new feeling just as enthusiastically, after the events of the opera.
What he felt for Mary and for you were very different, but just as intense. He had hoped, foolishly, that those differences would change something. And yet it seemed as if history was playing out again, as it had before.
"Unlock the door."
Laszlo's words were met with hesitation by the group, before they noticed the clear distress in his expression. Marcus nodded, placing the bag he held down in front of the door, before crouching down to pick the lock. Once unlocked, Sara opened the door, leaning in through the frame to look inside. From what she could tell, the study and kitchen were empty, and she could hear no sounds of movement, even after she called your name. Slowly, one-by-one, the five of them entered your home.
"Marcus and I will check upstairs," Sara decided, earning a nod from the Isaacson brother. "I believe there are a few rooms further back."
As they split up inside the house, Laszlo found himself at a loss. Although he had stopped by a couple of times, he had never truly taken the time to examine the home. Outside of the paintings that decorated the walls and the furniture provided to you, the home was extremely bare. Only a handful of personal items were scattered about, as well as a couple of books he had given you to read. For each and every room the doctor passed, it dawned on him that you had not been exaggerating when you had told him you dropped everything to move to New York. He wondered just how much you had left behind.
"Dr. Kreizler!"
Marcus's voice called out, clearly alarmed, causing the air to still throughout the house. Rushing upstairs, John, Lucius, and Laszlo all went to join Marcus and Sara, only stopping once they saw the man exit what appeared to be your bedroom. A small bouquet of roses in his hands.
You awoke with your eyes closed. The only thing grounding you to reality was the steady, throbbing pulse in the back of your head, causing a dull ache to pass over you with every beat. With a low groan, you blinked, as you thought about how rough work at the Institute was going to be, if this headache was going to plague you. As you shot up from the bed, letting out a painful cry, you went to raise your hand to you head. Only for them to be pulled back harshly, by a binding pressure against your wrists.
You blinked, and suddenly the pain in your head was in the back of your mind. Your eyes shot to your hands, ignoring the sting of the sudden action. A bundle of knots bound you, as a rope dug into your skin, leashing you to the unfamiliar bed frame behind you.
No. no. no no no. You thought in a panic, realizing the gravity of your current situation.
You took in your surroundings, seated on a small bed in the center of a room. There were no windows, and only a small lamp by the door lit the small space. The walls were bare, save for the portrait of a young woman. The only exit was a wooden door, with cracks forming from the bottom. Your heart racing, you tried to recall your memory of the events last night. What had happened to you? Where were you? Who brought you here?
You remembered the opera, and your pleasant time with Laszlo there, and how he had escorted you back to your home. So why couldn't you remember falling asleep there? Why were you still wearing the same dress you had spent hours deciding on? You had watched the carriage ride far out of sight, Stevie at the reins. You had opened the door to your home, without the use of your key, as it had been unlocked already.
Unlocked. Despite having purposefully locked it before leaving for the night.
"Stupid." Your breath hitched, as you cursed yourself for not noticing such a mistake. You hadn't even realized. Too giddy and tired from the emotional events of the opera.
Your heart raced, as you grew more and more frustrated, causing you to tug at your bindings. But no luck came. You thought back to what you did after entering your home. You had placed a few things down, before retiring to your bedroom, in order to change into your night clothes and sleep. But you never made it that far. In a sudden moment of clarity, a memory returned to you. You had sat down in front of your vanity mirror, before noticing a flash of red in the mirror. A bouquet of roses. Perhaps it was the fear and shock of the realization that the killer they’d been hunting had been in your home that caused you to lose consciousness. However, the pain in your head suggested otherwise.
Whatever the case was, you were now trapped in a room, after being taken from your home by the very person you had spent months trying to find. But aside from the distressing predicament of your kidnapping, what unsettled you most was the sudden deviation in behavior. If you truly had been taken by the killer you were searching for, why were you still alive? Why did he take you? What did he plan to do to you?
You didn't want to wait to find out, but found that you had little choice in the matter. No matter how many times you tugged and pulled at your bindings, the restraint never weakened. You had tried untying the knots on the bed frame, in hopes that you may be able to escape, even if your hands were tied together. The knots however, were tight and overlapping each other, and no amount of strength that you possessed could undo them. In desperation, you looked at the wooden door, knowing that it was all that stood between you and freedom. If you only could unbind your hands. But even if you had escaped, you didn't know where you were, or who's home you were in.
The answer didn't come till what felt like hours later. You had sat yourself up into a more comfortable position on the bed, where the rope would not pull at your now-aching wrists, and jumped as the wooden door suddenly opened.
Your heart leapt to your throat, and all you could seem to do was stare at the figure in the doorway. You were shocked. Your were speechless. You wanted to deny it, to try and lie to yourself by saying that he couldn't be the one who took you. That his presence here was merely some miraculous coincidence. But you weren't that naive. Still, never had you thought the same man who would regularly stop by your house could potentially be a murderer.
"Mr. Arnett." You breathed out, finally.
"Good evening, my dear." He greeted, his tone just as casual as any other time you had spoken. As though it was normal, to have you tied up in a room against your will.
As he stepped into the room, you found yourself growing more and more anxious with each of his steps. He had asked you something, a question you couldn't recall. You couldn't even find it within you to respond, knowing that anything you said might make your situation worse. If Arnett truly was the same man who’d been killing the women of New York, then it’s likely he’d have no issue using that same violence against you. Although, he had already changed his behavior, choosing to attack you in your own home, rather than on the street. That alone revealed that he was unpredictable.
"What..what am I doing here?" You asked, fearfully. You wanted your tone to come off as more questioning, rather than upset. You knew that if Laszlo’s theory was correct, the only reason you weren’t dead yet was because the fantasy behind the murders relied on your acceptance of the man. Still unsure of his intentions with you, you shuddered at the thought of letting the man do whatever he wanted.
"I'm taking care of you."
The vagueness of the answer, and the emptiness in his tone, as he spoke sent a wave of fear over you. The man took a step towards you, right next to the bed you were tied to. You sat up, moving away from him, by instinct. You had hardly noticed the tray Arnett had been carrying, until he placed it down on the foot of the bed. A wide assortment of fruits, breads, and foods were placed onto the tray, along with a single red rose. Taking a seat next to you, he lifted something off of the item.
"A strawberry, from my garden." He explained, as though that was the cause of your nervous behavior.
You didn’t feel hungry, but felt a sense of relief at the act. Only because that meant he didn’t plan on harming you…yet. Once more, he placed the strawberry up to your lips.
Arnett's jaw tensed, as he spoke again. This time he sounded as though he were trying to restrain himself. "You don't need to be afraid of me."
Afraid to anger him, you took a bite, before attempting to distance yourself from him further, if that were even possible at this point. He praised you for the action, as an owner would praise a pet. Bitterness rose from your chest, creating a bad taste in your mouth. Whether it was the fruit he gave you, or the reaction you had to his words, you weren't sure.
"See, I knew you'd be good," He spoke, condescendingly. "just like my Lily."
You swallowed back a grimace. "Lily?"
Arnett blinked, as if confused for a moment, before giving a forced chuckle. His eyes turned to the portrait in the room, of the young woman. "I must apologize, it's rather rude of me to compare you to my wife- ex-wife. "
He quickly corrected himself, before looking back at you, his eyes falling to your wrists. More specifically, the red burns on them, from your previous attempts at escape. He reached out, without warning, before scolding you profusely. He spoke only about how should be more careful, as to not harm yourself further. In your upset state, you didn't even think before instinctively ripping your hands from his hold, not wanting him to so much as touch you.
Arnett's almost-caring expression fell in an instant, before revealing an angered scowl. He grabbed your arms again, only now his grip was harsh and painful. There was no doubt in your mind that you would have bruises later.
"Don't do that." He hissed. "Don't you ever do that!"
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry!" You gasped, shaking as you quickly apologized in an attempt to calm his sudden temper. Blinking, you searched for any excuse that might help you. "I'm sorry.. I.. It's inappropriate, I wasn't expecting you to.."
Once more, you cursed yourself for coming up with such a weak excuse. However, even as you closed your eyes, you felt the grip on your hand lose its hold. When you looked back at Arnett, his scowl had disappeared. He thought for a moment, before a slight smile crept over his lips.
"You don't need to worry about such things anymore, my dear." He sighed. "Now that you're here with me, you won't have to feign innocence for the sake of appearances. We can speak freely now."
As you stared into his eyes, you came to understand that in some twisted way, his mind had made up a lie: making him believe you held some form of silent connection with him. Twisting your interactions into subtle advances, when they had merely been polite conversations. Every small talk in the study of your home, he had taken it as a sign of reciprocated affections. Rather than what they were. And he truly believed that lie, which was what frightened you the most.
You were silent, as he ran a thumb over your injured hand. It was meant to be a comforting gesture, but you viewed it more as a threat. You knew that if you pulled your hands way, as you wanted to, you'd be met with more aggression. Eventually, his focus returned to the tray he had brought in, handing you the rose as he placed another fruit to your mouth. You were fighting back a mixture of emotions, as you attempted to process the situation. You wanted to snap, and tell him that he didn't need to feed you himself. You wanted kick and fight, if only to save your pride. But you knew that none of these actions would help you, and would more likely cause Arnett to harm you.
Instead, you tried to refocus your frustrations into questioning Arnett's plan for you.
"Mr. Arnett, I..I find myself at..at a loss as to why you've brought me here." You muttered, weakly. "Surely, it's not simply to 'speak freely', as you put it? I can't help but think there is another reason.."
The older man scoffed, as if surprised you even had to ask.
"Well, I've been left with no other choice, haven't I? You're forced to spend every day and night fretting over the little problems of a half-crazed alienist, who insists on keeping you by his side." He grit his teeth, looking around the room for a moment. "But that no longer matters. You won’t need to worry anymore about Kreizler taking his liberties with you, my dear."
The bruising grasp on your hand returned. His voice and expression reflected anger, though it didn't seem directed at you this time. His eyes were still staring off at nothing in particular, and it seemed as though he wasn't even aware of the venom in his tone. Ignoring your pain for a moment, you feared what he meant, upon mentioning Laszlo. Was he merely speaking his suspicions out of a jealous delusion? Or had he known- had he seen- your actions with Laszlo at the opera last night?
You let out another pained gasp, causing Arnett to release his hold on you. This time, he stood up, staring down at you with regret and fear. Almost dejectedly, he grabbed the tray once more, and made his way back towards the wooden door. But not without looking back at the portrait once more.
"Lily was as delicate as you."
A time passed before the door opened again.
You had fought to stay awake, in order to try and defend yourself against Arnett, even though you were essentially at his mercy. But the reality was that you were exhausted. Not only physically, but mentally and emotionally. The stress of the case, Laszlo, and your own current situation had left you utterly broken. As sleep came for you, your eyes fogged with tears, as you thought back to the happiness you felt just a night before.
When you finally awoke, you heard a loud thud, as though something had fallen somewhere in the building you were being kept in. Your heart pounded, half hopeful and half afraid. The wooden door to the dim room opened, your heart sinking as you faced Arnett once more, his face red with anger as he began yelling out, seething with every breath.
"He comes to my place of work, accusing me!"
Arnett raves, red in the face, as he circles around the room. His sentences slur together, his words coming out faster than you can understand them. You sit up quickly, bracing yourself, as it's all you can do in the moment. The man's eyes were wide and his gaze flicked from place to place, as if searching for something as he continued to ramble on. You noticed how his hands were clenched, his fingernails digging into his palms and his knuckles becoming a white color. Fearing what he may do, you kept your mouth shut, hoping in vain that he might forget that you're there.
"-Slandering my name and reputation!” He heaved out a heavy breath, before his stare finally finds its destination on you.
Whatever pleasant facade the man placed on for you before was gone now, overcome by his anger. He rushed forwards, pushing you back against the headboard of the bed, placing a hand on your face, pressing hard on your cheeks and jaw. Startled, you froze, unable to even move, except for the trembling throughout your body.
"Who is he to you?" He demanded, an accusatory glare cutting through you.
You choked out a reply, asking who or what he was talking about. That only made his grip stronger, squeezing against your bones enough to make them ache.
“That damned Kreizler!” He spat. “Is he truly so dependent on you, that he cannot go a single day without you?! Is your company so enjoyable that he cannot help himself?”
Arnett’s words were spiteful and insulting. Not only towards Laszlo, but yourself as well. It seemed that while Arnett did not seem to know the extent of your relationship to the alienist, the suspicion was enough to drive him over the edge. You only feared what would happen, should he learn what occurred at the opera. As your mind raced with your thoughts, you hadn't noticed how your captor now moved over you, trapping you under him. His spare hand trailed over you, his glare burning holes into you as he grabbed at your form. Your mind went blank, and all you could hear was the heartbeat that now pulsed in your ears. You twisted and turned, biting into your cheek as your body moved on its own, trying to do anything to get him off of you. A quick slap stunned you, causing you to recoil from the force.
Still, Arnett seemed lost to his ramblings. “He claims himself a gentleman! Tell me, do you enjoy the attention he gives you? Perhaps I’ve been mistreating you, perhaps you enjoy the way he takes advantage of you-“
Mistreatment was an understatement, but you dared not speak your mind in this moment. The feeling of his spare hand pushing a trail up your leg sent a wave of disgust and fear through you. Desperately, you spoke, saying anything that came to mind, hoping to calm the clearly unhinged man.
“No, no Mr. Arnett, please!”
You cried, gasping as your throat seemed to close off on its own.
“You’re- you’re right! He’s- He’s not a gentlemen, not like you. Louis-“
You barely registered what you were saying, only focusing on pleading for your life. You continued, speaking whatever you thought the man would want to hear. As soon as they left your mouth, you hated every lie you spoke about Laszlo. How you were catering to Mr. Arnett’s sick fantasy. It seemed to work, however, as the man paused his assault on you. His grip on your chin lifted your gaze up to him, making you stare through tears to look him in the eye.
Your voice shook as you spoke, going on and on about how you were being mistreated and how Arnett was a gentlemen, as much as it pained you to do so. You empathized the phrase, hoping it might somehow make him stop. His actions were abhorrent, yet he seemed to pride himself on being the gentleman he had tricked you into believing he was. You played into Arnett's fantasy, making yourself appear as some damsel in need of saving and that Arnett was the man who would do it. All you could do was hope your words satisfied him.
His hand released its hold on your leg, but you did not allow yourself to sigh in relief. The hold on your chin disappeared, as he gently placed his palm against your cheek. A soft smile met his lips, yet his eyes remained vacant and cold. His voice was distant once more, as if remembering something.
“You truly are just like my Lily.” He pressed his lips against you, holding you there. You didn’t move. When he finally parted, he gave a reassuring smile, something meant to comfort you, before saying: “He won’t mistreat you anymore, my dear. I’ll make sure of it.”
The older man stood up, smoothing a hand over his suit, before turning from you. Your heart sank at his words, leaving you in despair even as he left the room. Pulling your legs up to your chest, you cried into the wrinkled fabric of your dress, muffling the sound in order to keep Arnett from hearing you.
It felt like years, as another day passed. Your heart ached along with your shoulders and wrists, as you stared blankly at the wooden door. There were moments when you asked yourself if this barren room would be the last thing you saw. If the painted, empty eyes of Lily Arnett would be staring down at you, as you joined her in death. But there was hope.
Arnett’s outburst had been sudden and terrifying. But in his state, he’d given you the knowledge that Laszlo and the others were close, already questioning the man. Already suspecting the truth. You just needed to keep him satisfied, until your friends could figure out how to find you. If they found you.
When the wooden door opened once more, Arnett was bringing in another tray of food and water for you. As he came into the light of the lamp, your attention was drawn to the cut along the man's temple. Given your situation, this shouldn't have surprised you, but in all the time you've known the man you’d never seen the man with even a scratch on him, despite the violent attacks he had carried out. Before your abduction, you knew the man to be of good standing in the eyes of society. Someone obsessed with his reputation as a proper gentleman. Someone who’d never be caught up in a fight, not one that would cause such a wound.
You ask what happened, less out of concern and more out of curiosity, desperately wanting to learn what you could about the events playing out in the world outside of the small room. Your words seemed to fall on deaf ears however, as Arnett silently approached, not answering you. Instead, he lifted the food for you to eat. Slowly, you took a bite, not wanting to upset him further. After finishing the bits fruit and bread he initially offered, you found yourself growing more and more restless, due to his unsettling silence. As he lifted another fruit to you, you turned your head slowly, until eventually you found yourself looking up at the woman in the portrait.
Twice now he had mentioned his late wife…Lily. Some deep-rooted part of you felt as though her death had not been some random accident or illness, given how Arnett had consistently been comparing the two of you. No… By now, you suspected that perhaps the poor woman had shared your fate, falling victim to her husband's erratic behavior.
You opened your mouth, your throat dry as you carefully said: “I…I realize I never asked about your wife, before. If it is not too upsetting, tell me, how… how did she pass?”
Arnett blinked, as if snapped from his silence. A vacant expression crossed over his face, sending a frightening chill through you. It was identical to the one Laszlo had at the morgue, as the alienist was trying to gain insight into the killer’s mind. You had trusted Laszlo, but it was different now. Now you looked that very killer in the eye.
“I believe I told you. She was delicate." He paused, staring you down, before glancing away quickly. "Now eat.”
A horrible pit in your stomach grew, as your mind raced to create images of what you suspected befell the late Mrs. Arnett. If his lack of hesitation of using force against you was any indication…It was slowly becoming evident that perhaps she may have been the first. The catalyst that created the man you faced now. You swallow back the lump in your throat, speechless. In your shock, you had forgotten what Arnett had ordered you to do. It was too late to fix your mistake, as the man quickly took your silence as refusal. In an instant, the tray was shoved aside, slammed to the floor, as his form climbed over you.
"You ungrateful bitch!" His hands clamped down on your throat, using a strength that felt as though it would snap your life away at any second. You hands pulled down on the ropes, having enough length to allow you to claw at his grasp. “Do you know how much trouble you’ve caused me?"
You struggled for breath, your heartbeat becoming the only sound in your ears before a slam at the door snapped you from your panicked state. A voice- no, voices- spoke loudly. You didn’t process what was said, only that the weight of Arnett shifted. You found yourself placed between Arnett and the unknown parties, a sharp pressure against your neck. As you gathered your senses, you realized the pressure was a knife, one Arnett had kept hidden away. You weren't sure if he had it before, or if he had planned to use it against you before being interrupted.
John and Sara stood before you, the woman aiming a gun towards Arnett. Though, with you placed in between them, the weapon was also directed towards you. You wanted to scream. You wanted to cry. If you weren’t so focused on the knife’s weight against you, your heart surely would have leapt with happiness. They had found you! But the confrontation was not over.
"You have no right, breaking in here!” Arnett seethed. “I’ll have you arrested!”
Sara was quick to respond, not even flinching from his words. “Call them if you like, but I doubt the police would be interested with us, upon finding a woman unwillingly locked up on your property.”
Arnett shook his head, his breath coming out in heavy exhales. His voice was shaking. Out of anger, fear, and confusion. “No, you’re wrong! She..she wants to be here! Tell them!”
The knife pressed harder against you, as Arnett whispered unintelligible words against your ear. You gasped, closing your eyes, as if everything would disappear if you didn't watch. Another sound of footsteps grabbed your attention, forcing you to look up once more. A third figure emerged through the door, joining John and Sara. He stopped dead in his tracks, however, upon seeing the tense stand-off between them and Arnett. With you at the center.
“Laszlo!” You called, the name falling from your mouth before you could stop it.
A vice grip found the back of your neck, making you gasp in pain. His whisper was erratic but you could just make out: "How dare you say his name in front of me-"
The knife pressed harder, a small sting followed by a warm trickling feeling. His cheek pressed against your ear, speaking lowly. “Tell them you want to be here. With me.”Another pause of silence made him seethe. "Answer me, Lily!”
Arnett’s grip on reality, whatever remained, was slipping as the scene played out before you. Still, you refused. Laszlo was here, They were all here! You were so close to freedom that you couldn't bare the thought of him taking it away. Tears reached your eyes, as you glanced at the faces you've grown to know.
“There’s no where to go, Mr. Arnett.” Sara said, regaining your attention. She looked back at you, rather than your captor. She looked unsure, as she aimed her gun toward the two of you, in contrast to her confident words. “If you truly care for her, as I suspect you do, then let her go.”
“No, nonono..” Arnett’s breaths became erratic. “She belongs with me! Tell them, my dear, now.”
Still you remain silent, biting back a cry.
Arnett snapped, cursing you, as the knife lifted for a moment, before turning fully towards you, intended to pierce your throat. In that split moment, you heard the loud blast of gunfire, followed by the metallic smell of gunpowder. A ringing overtook your senses, followed closely by a burning in your shoulder.
Then...
thud
thud
thud
Your heartbeat signaled to you that you were alive, but you couldn't help yourself but think it was a trick. One last cruel joke for the entertainment of a higher power.
Your mind and vision seemed to blur, as each passing moment came by in flashes. You no longer felt Arnetts breath against your ear, yet the intense pain in your shoulder remained. You felt a pair of arms reach around you, as the restraining pull of ropes on your wrists disappeared. The cool breeze of air hit your face at some point, before the rest faded away to darkness.
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32 for henry sturges :3
so, for anyone who doesn’t know, Henry Sturges is a character played by Dominic cooper in the movie Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter, and one of the main characters in the novel by the same name, while being the main character in the sequel, The Last American Vampire. sadly, the author of those novels is The Worst (TM) and i am now claiming this character as my own and will treat him kindly
i love him so fucking MUCH
I HOPE YOU ENJOY LEMME KNOW WHAT YOU THINK
Saying “I love you”....in a way that I can’t return.
There were parts of your memory that were hazy – days that were missing as you tried to remember why you were in pain, why you were tired, when you had fallen asleep. You remembered the better parts – the parts where you accepted a new job as a personal assistant, where you met your stupidly rich boss, where you found him weird and obnoxious and meeting every cliché that you had ever read about.
You especially remembered the part where you discovered that he was a vampire. That was important.
You shifted, the smooth surface of expensive sheets sliding against your skin. They were soft, and smelled lovely, and you recognized the scent as the one that Henry used for everything that could be washed. It was an older scent, one that wasn’t really made anymore, that he got from a little store on the other side of the city. It was one of the few things that he did personally.
Burying your nose into the pillow, you let out a sigh. At least you knew you were home, and comfortable.
A damp washcloth traced over your temple, down your cheek, and around the back of your neck.
“You’re alright,” whispered a familiar voice, one tinged with accent so faint it could never be placed, “You’re safe.”
You dreamed about that vivid memory of discovery. Henry Sturges had centuries of practice of keeping his identity a secret, something that, if you had been more observant, you would have noticed at lot sooner. But even someone with centuries of experience under his belt was prone to forgetfulness, and that was something that plagued him that day – he had forgotten his own set of keys to the house when he had set off on his usual journey across the city. He’d only realized it when he was too far gone and had called you to get the keys for him.
“If you could,” he had added, “If you aren’t too busy.”
“Of course,” you replied, “I’ll bring them to you.”
You failed to tell him that you, too, were on the opposite side of the city, and that it would take you longer than expected to take the keys to him. That was why you had arrived at the store after closing time, found it unlocked, and discovered Henry hauling a man clean off the ground with one hand, while bearing a mouth full of gleaming shards of bone. He dropped the man when you shouted at him to stop, failed to see you grab a pipe to swing at his skull.
(The memory bubbled up in your dream, descending upon you as though through a fog.)
You held the pipe with both hands, standing between Henry and the stairs leading up into the convenience store. Henry held his head between both hands, groaning, doubling over his knees. The other man, the store own, was still crumbled on the ground, unharmed, but unconscious.
“You hit me!” Henry shouted, “You actually hit me!”
“What do you expect?!” you snapped, “You? What are you?!”
He stumbled as he straightened, examining his fingers, then touched his head again. He stepped towards you.
You lifted the pipe over your shoulder, ready to strike again, yelling out nonsense.
“Don’t hit me again!” he cried.
“Get back!” you shrieked, “Get? Back! And answer my question!”
“Put the pipe down,” he said instead.
“Answer me!”
“Put the pipe down!”
“Answer the fucking question, Henry!” you paused, “If that’s your real name.”
His mouth dropped open with a scoff. You brandished the pipe as he stepped closer, stuttering out a disgusted, “I can’t believe the distrust! The suspicion!” He was on you in the literal blink of an eye, gently prying the pipe from between your clenched fingers like it was nothing. He tossed it away. The comical hurt he had previously worn was gone as he said, “I’m a vampire.” He squeezed your shoulders and set you on the steps. “Stay here a moment? I’ll be right back.”
(He’d left the poor store clerk – Seth, you remembered his name being – with a stack of journals, then swept you away back to his home – your home, the place where he provided you with a room of your own and asked for no rent at all – to sit you down and explain what he could.)
A hand gingerly pressed against your cheek, turning your head enough towards the owner to allow them to drip a warm liquid between your lips. It was bitter, with an aftertaste you couldn’t describe, and you twisted your head away from it.
A warm sigh tumbled across your face. “This is something you’ll have to get used to,” whispered a familiar voice, “And it won’t be easy, I can promise you that. But I’ll be there every step of the way.” A word caught on his voice, scratching in your ear as he cleared his throat. A pair of lips brushed over your temple.
Those words were so familiar. It took you a moment – a moment in which you fell back into a deep slumber – but you recalled where you’d heard them. You had said them, years before, when Seth had approached Henry about a biography. You remembered finding him pacing the first floor of his town house, reading over a letter that you assumed was from the author in question, swearing beneath his breath as he wore a path in the floor.
You told him so as you leaned on the banister, giving him an easy smile. He merely stared at you – you would have called it a glare if you hadn’t known him so well – and waved the paper in your direction.
“He wants to interview me,” he grumbled.
“I think that’s been done before,” you countered.
Henry crumbled the paper and tossed it in your direction. You ducked the projectile with a laugh, almost missing his scathing comment about your mocking. “That was a terrible joke!” he said with a huff, “Awful.”
“You’ll have to get used to it,” you said as you sat on the stairs, “Especially if people take what you say to heart – what the book says to heart.” Henry sat on the stairs, leaning back against the wall to look up at you. You reached out to run your fingers through his clean, un-styled hair. “It won’t be easy; I can promise you that. But I’ll be here for all of it. If you want.”
He leaned into your hand with a miniscule, unnecessary sigh. “I cannot imagine anyone else helping me with this,” he whispered.
You quirked an eyebrow. “Not even the man you trusted your beloved Abe’s journals to?”
(The quip earned you a gentle pinch, and eyeroll, and a smile only you were truly welcome to.)
You had rolled in your sleep, or had been moved, into a position that was startlingly comfortable. You turned your face further into the soft fabric under your cheek.
“Are you awake?” asked Henry, his voice surprisingly close to your ear while whatever you laid on rumbled with his words. Your eyes fluttered. A finger brushed over each of them, brushing the crust from your lashes. You wrinkled your nose. “You are awake,” he whispered, “Take your time. You’ve been through a lot.”
“What happened?” you croaked. You smacked your lips together and groaned; your mouth tasted awful. You rolled away from Henry’s tender hold, burying your face back into the pillow beyond his arm. “How long have I been asleep?”
He didn’t answer you. Instead, he appeared at your side again, the bed bending beneath his weight, and he held a glass to your lips. “Drink,” he murmured. His hand slid behind your head to help you.
The strange taste bloomed across your tongue as you sipped – bitter, and warm, and tangy as it rolled down your throat. You wrapped your fingers over his hand and gulped the concoction down, whatever it was – it soothed an ache you hadn’t noticed. You pressed your knees against his side as you sat up, tilting the glass further towards your face, draining it of everything it had, even going so far as to lick the brim clean before you opened your eyes.
He was watching you. His thumb brushed the space behind your ear while his fingers trailed down your neck. You rolled your lips together as you tried to gather what remained of your drink. You watched him in return: how hadn’t you noticed how beautiful he was before? You could count the freckles across his nose and cheeks in the low light of the bedroom with how vibrant they were against his skin; his swept back hair held various shades of brown, and a scant few strands of silver – from the stress of crossing over from England, you figured, before he was turned, or maybe they’d gone grey during the run from Crowley shortly after; and then there were his eyes, which skipped across your face before holding yours.
The blood that ran through your body – the blood that wasn’t yours anymore – ran cold.
You dropped the glass.
Henry managed to catch it before it hit the wood floor, depositing it on the nightstand at your elbow.
You rubbed your throat as the missing memories returned, first in patches, then like a film playing behind your eyes: someone had broken into the house. You had been downstairs, labeling the few bottles of blood that Henry kept hidden in his fridge, frowning at the unfamiliar sounds of another human in the home. It hadn’t taken you long to react, either – your father had taught you well before he died, had made sure that you would be ready to live on your own when the time came.
You pulled a knife from the butcher’s block and stepped out of the kitchen.
Your view from the hall to the front door was unobscured. Behind you, however, was a puff of hot air as someone growled, “You’re really real, aren’t you?”
A door upstairs slammed open.
You stepped away and twisted around, lifting the knife between you and the intruder, filling the hall as best as you could. You had only seconds before Henry would be down the stairs, before the man, who stared at you with a crazed glint in his eye and held a wooden stake above his head, would be able to figure out who was really the vampire in the house and hurt him instead. Maybe even kill him.
He would kill Henry.
He couldn’t kill Henry.
You wouldn’t let him.
You remembered answering him with a breathless, “Yes,” before the stake splintered your ribcage and plunged down into your heart.
Thumbs rubbed circles over your cheeks. You blinked slowly as the memory fell into place, neatly outlining a time before you were asleep – dead, you supposed – and when you woke up.
Henry whispered your name. You finally met his gaze once again. He let out a deep, unnecessary and dramatic sigh as his forehead fell against yours. “You know that ‘I love you to death’ is only a saying, right?” he asked, “And that was a very dramatic way to say it.”
Your face flushed. “Who said that I loved you?” you squeaked.
“You did, when you went and took a man’s stake to the heart for me!” he shot back.
“Maybe I was just there and he wanted to kill us both,” you argued.
“Hm, and that’s why you said you were the vampire, is it? That you were real?” he asked.
You pressed your lips together.
His fingers trailed down your jaw and under your mouth, gently holding your chin. “There’s not a single way that I can think of that can match that, you know,” he sighed against your lips, “This will have to do.” He said a lot as he kissed you, making sure that you knew how much he loved you, that he’d loved you for an awfully long time, that it probably started when you first walked through his door, and you hoped that the kiss you gave in return said as much as your death did – that you loved him.
That you love him.
That you will always love him.
#vampire#henry sturges#henry sturges x reader#the last american vampire#abraham lincoln vampire hunter#reader insert#vampire boyfriend#toss a queue to your witcher
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Who the Fuck is Eskel?
If you have ever gone on The Witcher tag on Tumblr, I’m sure you’ve seen dozens of blogs dedicated to this guy named Eskel and for people who have just seen the show you might be wondering - who the fuck is this guy?
Hi, I’m Aaliyah, and this is Part 5 of my WTF Series - a crash course in subjects from The Witcher Books.
Post under the cut
Let’s jump in by talking about what books Eskel is in. He’s only mentioned in one line in The Last Wish, The Tower of Swallows and The Time of Contempt. He has a flashback scene in Lady of the Lake and the only book where he plays a heavy role in is Blood of Elves.
For all you Eskel Stans out there, this is good news, because it looks like S2 of the show is going to be taking some cues from Blood of Elves and we do know Eskel is going to be appearing so these scenes might be showing up in some form or another in the show.
We first meet Eskel in Blood of Elves when Geralt is first bringing Ciri to the keep:
“Who comes?” Ciri heard a menacing, metallic voice which sounded like a dog’s bark. “Geralt?”
“Yes, Eskel. It’s me.”
“Come in.”
The witcher dismounted, took Ciri from the saddle, stood her on the ground and pressed a bundle into her little hands which she grabbed tightly, only regretting that it was too small for her to hide behind completely.
“Wait here with Eskel,” he said. “I’ll take Roach to the stables.”
“Come into the light, laddie,” growled the man called Eskel. “Don’t lurk in the dark.”
Ciri looked up into his face and barely restrained her frightened scream. He wasn’t human. Although he stood on two legs, although he smelled of sweat and smoke, although he wore ordinary human clothes, he was not human. No human can have a face like that, she thought.
“Well, what are you waiting for?” repeated Eskel.
She didn’t move. In the darkness she heard the clatter of Roach’s horseshoes grow fainter. Something soft and squeaking ran over her foot. She jumped.
“Don’t loiter in the dark, or the rats will eat your boots.”
Still clinging to her bundle Ciri moved briskly towards the light. The rats bolted out from beneath her feet with a squeak. Eskel leaned over, took the package from her and pulled back her hood.
“A plague on it,” he muttered. “A girl. That’s all we need.”
She glanced at him, frightened. Eskel was smiling. She saw that he was human after all, that he had an entirely human face, deformed by a long, ugly, semi-circular scar running from the corner of his mouth across the length of his cheek up to the ear.
“Since you’re here, welcome to Kaer Morhen,” he said. “What do they call you?”
“Ciri,” Geralt replied for her, silently emerging from the darkness. Eskel turned around. Suddenly, quickly, wordlessly, the witchers fell into each other’s arms and wound their shoulders around each other tight and hard. For one brief moment.
“Wolf, you’re alive.”
“I am.”
“All right.” Eskel took a torch from its bracket. “Come on. I’m closing the inner gates to stop the heat escaping.”
Couple things here. First, for all the game fans out there, Eskel’s scar in the books is VERY different. It’s not the lightening-like claw marks that go over his eye but instead it goes from the corner of his mouth to his ear. This is interesting because it really parallels in my mind Ciri’s scar she gets later on that extends from under her eye to her ear.
Also, the little reunion between Geralt and Eskel, so sweet. The line about Eskel in Last Wish establishes that they were close friends so here is the snippet just to give more backstory to the two of them:
“Once, years ago, when a little snot-faced brat following his studies in Kaer Morhen, the Witchers’ Settlement, he and a friend, Eskel, had captured a huge forest bumblebee and tied it to a jug with a thread. They were in fits of laughter watching the antics of the tied bumblebee, until Vesemir, their tutor, caught them at it and tanned their hides with a leather strap.”
Childhood friends and brothers is just so damn great. Actually, speaking of brothers, it is stated in Blood of Elves that Geralt and Eskel actually look very similar and are often mistaken for brothers such as in this scene from Triss’s POV.
Eskel stood next to Geralt, resembling the Wolf like a brother apart from the colour of his hair and the long scar which disfigured his cheek. And the youngest of the Kaer Morhen witchers, Lambert, was there with his usual ugly, mocking expression. Vesemir was not there.
“Welcome and come in,” said Eskel. “It is as cold and blustery as if someone has hung themselves. Ciri, where are you off to? The invitation does not apply to you. The sun is still high, even if it is obscured. You can still train.”
“Hey.” The Enchantress tossed her hair. “Politeness comes cheap in Witchers’ Keep now, I see. Ciri was the first to greet me, and brought me to the castle. She ought to keep me company—”
This really interests me because Ciri is very young child when she meets Eskel and she is very terrified of him and intimidated. Which makes sense, she is very traumatized. But, when Triss meets Eskel she only makes a short note of his scar and focuses more on his resemblance to Geralt and commenting on the lack of politeness. It just goes to show how different characters perceive people differently. A child’s perspective of a warrior is not going to be the same as a Mage’s.
“You didn’t even know.” She nodded in what was now a calm, concerned and gentle reproach. “You’re pathetic guardians. She’s ashamed to tell you because she was taught not to mention such complaints to men. And she’s ashamed of the weakness, the pain and the fact that she is less fit. Has any one of you thought about that? Taken any interest in it? Or tried to guess what might be the matter with her? Maybe her very first bleed happened here, in Kaer Morhen? And she cried to herself at night, unable to find any sympathy, consolation or even understanding from anyone? Has any one of you given it any thought whatsoever?”
“Stop it, Triss,” moaned Geralt quietly. “That’s enough. You’ve achieved what you wanted. And maybe even more.”
“The devil take it,” cursed Coën. “We’ve turned out to be right idiots, there’s no two ways about it, eh, Vesemir, and you—”
“Silence,” growled the old witcher. “Not a word.”
It was Eskel’s behaviour which was most unlikely; he got up, approached the enchantress, bent down low, took her hand and kissed it respectfully. She swiftly withdrew her hand. Not so as to demonstrate her anger and annoyance but to break the pleasant, piercing vibration triggered by the witcher’s touch. Eskel emanated powerfully. More powerfully than Geralt.
“Triss,” he said, rubbing the hideous scar on his cheek with embarrassment, “help us. We ask you. Help us, Triss.”
Now, if you can’t tell, Triss’ favorite is Eskel. This scene is also implies that Eskel is more magically powerful than Geralt which Is very interesting. But Triss is an Eskel stan, in fact a couple lines later Triss thinks to herself:
Vesemir hawked again. But Eskel, dear Eskel, kept his head and once more behaved as was fitting.
“Of course,” he said casually, smiling. “We understand and clearly we will postpone your exercises until your indisposition has passed. We will also cut the theory short and, if you feel unwell, we will put it aside for the time being, too. If you need any medication or—”
Eskel definitely has the older sibling energy where he ends up in charge sometimes and knows how to keep a cool head. He’s also the most aware of societal norms of behavior which is why Triss likes his so much. She really respects people who know how to move in society.
There’s also this scene in Blood of Elves where Eskel is drinking and offers Triss some:
“White Seagull.”
“What?”
“A mild remedy,” Eskel smiled, “for pleasant dreams.”
“Damn it! A witcher hallucinogenic? That’s why your eyes shine like that in the evenings!”
“White Seagull is very gentle. It’s Black Seagull that is hallucinogenic.”
“If there’s magic in this liquid I’m not allowed to take it!”
“Exclusively natural ingredients,” Geralt reassured her but he looked, she noticed, disconcerted. He was clearly afraid she would question them about the elixir’s ingredients. “And diluted with a great deal of water. We would not offer you anything that could harm you.”
I think it’s very funny how secret The Witcher keeps all their potions and elixirs. Whether it’s mushrooms or potions, they gotta keep those secret drugs locked down tight. Also the fact that Eskel is the fantasy equivalent of high every night? Love that for him.
Eskel really is the peace-maker of the group. He’s not a push-over by any means but he is definitely more willing to play along that any of the others. When Triss is talking at night, Eskel is really the only one listening and engaging, even if it’s very half-hearted.
In the evenings, consistently and determinedly, Triss guided the long conversations held in the dark hall, lit only by the bursts of flames in the great hearth, towards politics. The witchers’ reactions were always the same. Geralt, a hand on his forehead, did not say a word.
Vesemir nodded, from time to time throwing in comments which amounted to little more than that “in his day” everything had been better, more logical, more honest and healthier.
Eskel pretended to be polite, and neither smiled nor made eye contact, and even managed, very occasionally, to be interested in some issue or question of little importance. Coën yawned openly and looked at the ceiling, and Lambert did nothing to hide his disdain.
And he is really the only sort-of listener to Triss’ stories and retellings of events:
This time it was Triss who began to yawn and stare at the ceiling. This time she was the one who remained silent – until Eskel turned to her with a question. A question which she had anticipated.
“And what is it really like in the south, on the Yaruga? Is it worth going there? We wouldn’t like to find ourselves in the middle of any trouble.”
“What do you mean by trouble?”
“Well, you know…” he stammered, “you keep telling us about the possibility of a new war… About constant fighting on the borders, about rebellions in the lands invaded by Nilfgaard. You said they’re saying the Nilfgaardians might cross the Yaruga again—”
“So what?” said Lambert. “They’ve been hitting, killing and striking against each other constantly for hundreds of years. It’s nothing to worry about. I’ve already decided – I’m going to the far South, to Sodden, Mahakam and Angren. It’s well known that monsters abound wherever armies have passed. The most money is always made in places like that.”
“True,” Coën acknowledged. “The neighbourhood grows deserted, only women who can’t fend for themselves remain in the villages… scores of children with no home or care, roaming around… Easy prey attracts monsters.”
“And the lord barons and village elders,” added Eskel, “have their heads full of the war and don’t have the time to defend their subjects. They have to hire us. It’s true. But from what Triss has been telling us all these evenings, it seems the conflict with Nilfgaard is more serious than that, not just some local little war. Is that right, Triss?”
Once more, Eskel is the peace-maker of the conversation and he brings it back around to what Triss originally said and also points to her expertise. Basically, Eskel is not really a fan of verbal conflict.
This is actually the last line we see Eskel in a scene outside of the flashback in Lady of the Lake. After this, Triss, Geralt and Ciri head off. It is important to note that near the end of Blood of Elves Ciri says this about Yennefer:
The lady magician knew a surprising amount about a witcher’s sword and “dance.” She knew a great deal about the secrets of Kaer Morhen; there was no doubt she had visited the Keep. She knew Vesemir and Eskel. Although not Lambert and Coën.
Yennefer used to visit Kaer Morhen. Ciri guessed why – when they spoke of the Keep – the eyes of the enchantress grew warm, lost their angry gleam and their cold, indifferent, wise depth. If the words had befitted Yennefer’s person, Ciri would have called her dreamy, lost in memories.
So clearly Yennefer is also friendly with Eskel and knows him. I love the idea that Yennefer regularly visited Kaer Morhen before Ciri came into Geralt’s care and I would literally cry if they did a flashback sequence in S2 of Yennefer visiting Geralt in Kaer Morhen.
The flashback sequence in Lady of the Lake with Eskel goes like this:
The fire in the huge fireplace went out. A gust of wind from the mountains whistled through the crevices of the walls and screamed through the improperly closed shutters of Kaer Morhen, Home of the Witchers.
“Damn it!” Eskel said, standing up and going to the cupboard. “Seagull or vodka?”
“Vodka,” Geralt and Coen said with one voice.
“Sure,” interjected Vesemir, hidden in the shadows, “Yes, of course! Drown your stupidity in vodka. Damn fools!”
“It was an accident…” muttered Lambert. “She had already mastered the comb…”
“Shut your big mouth, you idiot! I don’t want to hear any more! I warned you, if something happened to that little girl…”
“Enough,” Coen interrupted him, softly. “She sleeps peacefully. Deep and healthy. She will wake up a bit sore, but that’s it. About the trance, and what happened, she will not even remember it.”
“As long as you remember,” said Vesemir, panting angrily. “Cabbage heads! Pour for me too, Eskel.”
They were silent for a long time, listening intently to the howling gale.
“We will need to call someone,” Eskel finally said. “We will need to bring a sorcerer here. What is happening to the girl, it is not normal.”
Eskel is one of The Witcher who really pushes to call Triss in order to help with Ciri’s trances. Also, once again this guy is hitting the drinks.
So yeah! That’s Eskel in the books. Based on how in the non-canon wedding short Asaps wrote where he ended up having Triss and Eskel get together, I think his hints of them having a connection in the books is very intentional and if The Witcher wasn’t such a god damn tragedy and Triss wasn’t mooning over Geralt, I’m willing to bet they would have gotten together at some point.
Eskel is the peace-maker of the family and is the best at recognizing the norms of “polite society” (or at least noble society) and while Ciri might have been scared of his appearance, it isn’t enough to phase Triss who is considered rather vain. In fact, she seems to respect Eskel the most out of the Witchers. Just imagine a dark-haired, scarred Geralt and BOOM, you got yourself an Eskel.
#did anything you read in this post surprise you?#Is there a specific line I didn't use that you absolutely love?#is there another thing/character/theme from the books you want me to do next?#let me know!#I love doing these and have a v fun time w/ them#the witcher#eskel#geralt#ciri#triss#triss merigold#The Witcher books#blood of elves#meta#wiedzmin#andrzej sapkowski#asaps#myposts#trisskel#maybe a little hint#wtf series
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Across The Miles
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harry lewis x fem!reader
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please check my masterlist to see if my requests are open
(gif from the amazing @sdmngifs)
You stepped off the plane and were met with the dreary skies that seemed to always plague England. Simon had told you he and JJ would meet you outside of the baggage claim to help you with your bags and take you home.
As soon as you’d wrestled your cases off of the conveyer belt, you walked towards the big exit sign, looking very much like you’d just stepped off of a long haul flight. Donned in sweats and a Sidemen Clothing hoodie with a travel pillow hung around your neck, you weren’t going to be winning any fashion awards any time soon.
“Y/N!”, JJ and Simon called from the other side of the large arrivals hall. You grinned, waving manically at them as you walked over as quick as you could. You dropped you hand luggage down next to your cases and flung your arms around both of them.
“I’ve missed you guys!”, you smiled up at them once they’d released you. “I can’t thank you enough for giving me this opportunity. And letting me live with you guys? I mean... there isn’t enough words to thank you!”, you gushed.
You’d met Simon, JJ and the rest of the Sidemen at the 2017 Upload event and had stayed in touch with them ever since. You’d been planning on moving in together for quite a while, but finding a time when the three of you were free enough to facilitate moving an entire human and her belongings across the Atlantic Ocean was harder than first imagined, but the minute that the three of you had decent schedules, flights were booked, you’d handed your notice in for your apartment in New York and started packing up your things.
By the time you’d been moved into the spare room, your room, it was nearing 5pm. “We were thinking about grabbing dinner with the rest of the guys? They’ve all missed you and I know Freya and Talia are dying to see you”, Simon said from the door frame.
“Yeah, sounds good”, you smiled from where you sat on the floor, surrounded by your clothes as you tried to organise them.
“You don’t have to do it all in one go. Why don’t you grab a shower and get changed and then you can have another go at this once were back from dinner?”, Simon suggested, the exhaustion from the day beginning to become clear on your face. You nodded, putting down whatever it was you were trying and failing to fold and took yourself off for a shower.
Of course, the guys took you to Nando’s. With there only being a handful of the restaurants in America, and none in New York, you made a point of going whenever you were in the UK. “Are you excited to see Harry?”, Simon poked at you from the drivers seat, glancing back at you in the rearview mirror.
“Wait, what!?”, JJ exclaimed from the passenger seat, struggling to turn around and face you in his seat. “What’s this then?”, he pestered, reaching out to shove against your knee.
“It’s nothing”, you said pointedly, glaring at Simon.
“Oi, so Simon knows and I don’t? Bit unfair”, JJ sassed, pulling a face at you.
“Simon knows nothing”, you told JJ. “He’s getting ideas in his head that I haven’t said anything about”, you said, eyeing Simon again.
“So, was I just supposed to ignore one of my best friends’ names popping up, literally non-stop, on one of my other best friend’s phone?”, Simon quipped, raising an eyebrow. “I’m just saying what I see, is all”, he shrugged.
“Okay, sue me, I’ve stayed in touch with Harry. Have you guys forgotten that I’ve literally just moved into the same city as all of you and your friends?”, you snipped.
Simon grumbled in defeat, all whilst JJ’s eyes followed the back and forth between the two of you. He sat there with a massive grin on his face, and you just knew that he wasn’t going to leave this alone over dinner.
When you walked into the restaurant, you were greeted by a round of hugs from all the guys, being given the eye by Simon and JJ when you looped your arms around Harry’s frame. You were hugged by Talia and Freya as well, when the guys finally let you go.
“It’s so good to finally see you again in person”, Freya beamed. “Discord and twitch just don’t do it after being friends for this long”, she pouted, eliciting a laugh from both you and Talia.
The group sat down at the table, smaller groups of people all chattering amongst themselves. “How was your flight?”, Harry asked from the opposite side of the table.
“It wasn’t too bad, I’m kinda used to it now, I guess? I mean, 8 hours is 8 hours so it was pretty dull, but I managed to get a few movies in”, you smiled.
“Oh yeah?”, he asked. “What did you watch? Am I gonna be disappointed?”, he asked you with a laugh.
“Of course you’ll be disappointed, you don’t like watching films”, you laughed happily. “I finally started chipping away at my Disney plus watchlist, so I watched Up and both of the Incredibles films”, you told him.
You kept chatting with Harry, along with Ethan, who was next to Harry, and Vik, who was next to you, until your food came. Once people had plates in front of them, chatter died down significantly, only the occasional comment here and there made itself known.
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“He likes you too, you know”, Simon commented as he drove the three of you home. You’d been bundled into the backseat, wrapped up in JJ’s jacket as you were practically falling asleep on Vik’s shoulder.
“No, he doesn’t, Simon”, you denied sleepily, eyes drifting closed as you rested your head against the cold glass of the window.
“And how do you know that? He doesn’t even know that you like him, so how could he have turned you down?”, Simon asked.
“Because he’s Harry. I’m just some small timer from New York that you guys seemed to adopt after Upload”, you told him. “Look. I’ll get over it, I just need you to stop bringing it up so that I can actually forget about it and ignore the mushy feelings”.
As soon as Simon pulled the car to a stop, you climbed out and started making your way to the lift. You leaned heavily against the wall of the lift as it hurtled the three of you up to your floor. “Thanks for the coat, Jide”, you smiled tiredly, hanging the jacket up on a hook by the door. “I love you and all that, but I’m off to bed. My eyes are melting”, you groaned, waving your hand roughly in the direction of your room. Simon and JJ only laughed at you, wishing you a good night as you trudged down the hallway.
What you’d quite easily admitted in your half awake state wasn’t mentioned again, much to your relief. You got on with filming you ‘I’ve moved house!?’ videos and ‘Guess who I live with?’ clickbait titles. You started streaming more with the the girls, since you were finally in their timezone, and even dropped into the occasional Among Us stream with whoever was playing that night.
You settled into life in London well. You were surrounded by your friends and you doing what you loved with the people you loved. You’d felt more at home in the short months you’d lived in London than you ever had in New York. There was only one problem, though...
The Harry situation hadn’t resolved itself.
Which is why, when Simon came and asked you if you’d be in a video where he sets you up on a blind date, you couldn’t see a reason to turn it down. Worst case scenario, the date went horribly and Simon got a funny video of it. It wasn’t like you’d ever had to see the guy again.
You sat in front of the camera with Simon. “So, before I can send you on this blind date, I need to know what to look for”, he said.
“Erm - someone who’s funny, easy to get along with, can take a joke. Someone who won’t be intimidated or annoyed about me having quite a few male friends, someone who’s supportive of my career...”, you listed, trailing off when you realised who that described to a tee.
“And what do I need to avoid?”, Simon asked. If he had noticed any similarities of your description to Harry, he chose to keep his mouth shut about it.
“Someone thats going to be ashamed of me and my career or is going to want me to take my attention away from Youtube and Twitch. It’s one of the most important things in my life and I love what I do for a living and I’m so lucky that I get to do this for a living, so avoid someone that’s going to try and come between me and that, I guess”, you told Simon.
You knew that you weren’t going to find the love of your life doing this. It was more than likely going to be another single youtuber that Simon had roped into his video with the promise of a great video title and some decent content. But it would be nice to get dressed up nice and have an evening away from editing software or your stream deck.
Simon had told you where to go and when, he’d also told you to dress “all nice like”. He’d set the date up at a cocktail bar that you’d been wanting to visit since you’d moved to London. You only agreed to it once you confirmed that the expenses would be on him because top shelf liquor was on the bottom shelf in this place.
You picked out a dark green satin dress and paired it with some strappy silver heels. You took advantage of the opportunity and filmed yourself getting ready so that if things didn’t go too horrifically, you could post a ‘get ready for my blind date with me’.
Sitting down and chatting to the camera as you got ready took longer than you’d expected. You were rushing around, stressing about your Uber not being there quick enough to get you to the bar in time.
“I’ll drop you off”, JJ offered, already heading over to pick his keys up. “And that way, if he’s a weirdo, you don’t have to worry about waiting for another car to come get you”.
You climbed into the Porsche, thanking JJ for what might have been the fiftieth time since leaving the apartment. “You can stop saying thank you, Y/N. I offered”, he chuckled as he drove out of the parking garage. “You look lovely tonight, whoever Simon’s got you set up with is lucky”, he told you, sending you a genuine smile.
“Thank you, Jide”, you smiled. The rest of the car journey was shrouded in a comfortable silence, disrupted only by the radio. “I think it’s just around this corner”, you said, pointing out of the front window.
JJ pulled up by the bar and came around to help you out of the car, causing you to laugh. “You don’t have to escort me in, J”, you told him lightly. “Why are you acting like an over-protective dad?”, you whispered to him in a giggle.
“Just trust me”, he told you, rolling his eyes softly.
You kept your arm looped through JJ’s as he walked you down the pavement. As you neared the entrance to the bar, you saw a figure standing outside, looking around nervously. That must be him.
“Harry?”, you asked. You turned to JJ, “I think there’s been a mistake. I’m supposed to be on a blind date”.
“Surprise, I think”, Harry said awkwardly, scratching his arm.
“Look after her, Harry”, JJ told him sternly. JJ dropped a kiss to the side of your forehead. “Call me or Simon if either of you need anything, yeah?”, he said before he turned and walked back to his car, leaving you and Harry alone.
“I promise I’ll say something, I think I’m just still trying to process what’s going on”, you laughed awkwardly, fiddling with the strap of your clutch in your hands.
“I can maybe clear things up over a drink? Simon’s paying”, Harry said lightly, reaching his hand out to you. You smiled and nodded, letting him take your hand in his and guide you into the bar.
Once you’d got your drinks, Harry lead you to the terrace garden out the back. It was decorated with flowers and muted fairy lights, making for quite the romantic atmosphere. Harry pulled the tall chair out for you and held his hand out to help you up before walking to the other side of the table and sitting opposite you.
“I - uh. Basically, I asked Simon’s advice on how to ask you out and he said that whenever he brought me up around you, you shut him down. So he came up with this idea. I totally get it if you want JJ to come back and pick you up after this drink, I just couldn’t not try... at least once”, Harry said, sounding dejected as he finished.
You put your hand over Harry’s that rested on the table. “I won’t be calling JJ, Harry. I’m over the moon to be here”, you told him with a smile. “I only kept shutting Simon down because he’s been trying to interfere since the day I landed in London. I was convinced that you wouldn’t like me so I just tried to... I don’t know... get over it, I guess”, you told him. You could feel the blush creeping up your cheeks as you spoke, hoping it wasn’t too obvious.
“Why wouldn’t I?”, Harry asked quietly, rubbing his fingers over the back of your hand absentmindedly as he did.
“Are you kidding? You’re part of one of the biggest youtube groups, have a successful youtube channel, you’ve been someone for so long. And I’m just... what? A newbie who got adopted by the big boys in London. I never thought you could”, you said, voice dropping to a whisper.
“Y/N, you’re amazing”, Harry boasted. “You’re an amazing streamer and your youtube content is quality. Okay so I’ve been uploading longer? And? It doesn’t mean anything, Y/N. And believe it or not, I like the you I see off camera, you know”, Harry said shyly.
“I guess I owe Simon an apology then”, you smiled at Harry, who took your hand in his.
#harry lewis#wroetoshaw#w2s#harry lewis imagine#wroetoshaw imagine#w2s imagine#harry lewis x reader#wroetoshaw x reader#w2s x reader#sidemen imagine#sidemen x reader#sidemen oneshot#sidemen#uk youtube imagine#uk youtube#simon minter#miniminter#ksi#jj olatunji#vikkstar123#josh zerker#tbjzl
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