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blingblong55 · 6 months

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Matilda- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo creds:@ave661^

Based on a request:

Ghost finding out his s/o has a bad family, who she doesn’t keep in contact with but talks shit about and is like. Pretty open about how fucking awful her past was? if it’s too much I get it but like- I used to love your angst posts :3 they were so yummy! --- F!Reader, 18+, angst, comfort, family issues/trauma, mentions of SA/rape, mentions of eating disorders, toxic!family, mentions of child abuse, so...trigger warning!! ---

A/N: this is me trauma dumping so I'm sorry if it isn't perfect

Simon knew, he knew well that you weren't so open to starting a family with him for reasons he knew best to respect. But, one day, without him even realising he asked the question, you sat down and told him the story your teary eyes held for so long. As he listened to you explain the stories, he noticed how he wasn't speaking to his wife but to the little girl, his wife once was. The one who was left in a cruel world to people who shouldn't have had kids. "So, they...abused you?" He carefully asked and when he noticed you pause, he knew the answer you didn't. "I...I don't think so," your soft words spoke.

Nothing about the way you were treated seemed especially alarming 'til now

"What I know is that they were mean, evil to me. I was a kid...how was I to know right from wrong so easily?" You held his hand, support you failed to have as a child. Then, you told him the story of a young R/N. "I don't remember the exact age, but I could've been 5 through 8. I was there, he took me to his room, I thought we were going to play and he said we would so would I have known, you know?" Your innocent voice spoke the fear he held. "I don't remember much of that day but in glimpses, if I look too deep, I can see his hands between my thighs, and how he...well...you know," you couldn't explain, it was like a knot in your throat prevented to cause your heart more harm. "And you didn't tell your parents?" His voice is soft. You shake your head, "No, I...as a kid, they never believed what I said," you chuckle out of coping with it all.

"There was one time when my older sister tried to suffocate me, I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I did was watch cartoons and she annoyed me but I knew best and didn't feed into what she wanted from me." You pause and wipe some tears away. Your gaze never fell on his, afraid to break down too easily if you stared at the man who became home to you so long ago. He was that, he was comfort and home and you knew that if you stole one glance, you would be sobbing the stories. Your hand held his tighter, he knew well it was for comfort. "She pressed the pillow tight on my head, I was sick and my stupid lungs couldn't take the fact I had pneumonia, so of course killing me would be easier," you chuckle again. His gaze never left your delicate face and even he had to admit he cried as you told him these stories.

After a long sigh and pause you continue, "I somehow pushed her off me and ran to my parent's room, knocked loud and when my dad opened the door I swore I finally felt safe until I didn't," You know he was ready to ask why but you just laid your head on his shoulder. Looking off into the distance you continued, "My sister told them I pushed her, told her that I hated her, which is not true because hate is strong and she is my sister," you shake your head. "I cried when they didn't believe me, and had a panic attack in their room. and when I backed into a corner as my mother and father yelled at me...that's when they took my sister to the hallway and my mother stayed with me, she tried to hug me but I didn't need none of that...not from her." His hand rubbed your arm, knowing what you needed from him. You wipe some tears away, your breathing hitches and he wraps both arms around you. "I didn't hurt her Simon, I swear I didn't but no one believes me, no one," you whisper the last part. "I know you didn't, my love," he kisses your head and continues to rub your arm.

"I believe you, I'll always believe you before anyone else," he reminds you. "I...my mother gave me water and sent me to my room, told me to just sleep it off," you stop and cry. "Oh my love," he whispers and carries you onto his lap. The pouty frown broke his heart more and more. The cosy home he and you made for the years of your life, warming up his belief that slowly, he will replace all those bad years. The fireplace radiates heat on the snowy winter day. "In this world, I'll always believe you, no matter what, okay, my love?" He looks down and you nod. "That's my girl," he says and places a blanket over you both. "Do you want to continue, my love?" He asks, rubbing your back with his warm touch.

"I do," your voice is small. It was best to open about this and then burn it and let the ashes fly away than to keep it locked in for eyes to see. "I...as I grew up, I knew I had no place in that house. My mother shamed me for my body, and so did everyone in my family." Your head nuzzling onto his chest like a cat finding comfort. "So, I starved myself to be the perfect daughter. I did try to be perfect, I tried to get an I love you, a simple smile or hug." He nods, understanding where you came from. "One time, my mother grabbed my stomach, she told me I was fat and looking back at how I was at that age, I...I was healthy, nothing was ever wrong with me, nothing," you repeat in a whisper.

After a long time of comfortable silence, you speak again. "As I grew older, they made me feel terrible about all of me, how I dressed, if I did my makeup, my hair, my body, the stretch marks that decorated my body, all of it and even I wasn't allowed to have one bad day, not one." He shook his head and in that instant, he understood why all those years of loving you, you always avoided starting a family conversation. You were afraid to be like them, to persist in a cycle of never-ending trauma. He knew you loved him, he knew how much you yearned to be a mum, to watch him and you become parents and do foolish things for and with your child.

"I never understood why I was so insecure over my thighs or why I hated when people touched them, but as I grew older and noticed that I was...you know... I..um.." You could never be admitted, never say you were raped as a child, not when you were scared to acknowledge it again. "I know love," he responds so you don't torture your heart anymore. "But...when I realised what happened to me, that's when it all hit me and there was a time in my young life that I knew I would never forget," you kept holding onto his torso. "It hadn't been long after what that...person...did to me when my mum and sisters pinned me to the ground, they knew then that I disliked people touching my thighs so they pinned me to the ground and touched them," you shake your head, trying to forget the moment. "They...th-they touched my body as I cried and begged for them to stop and not once did anyone stop or help me. My father walked by and he...he just laughed and kept walking...how...how can you do that?" You cried. "How can a parent do that? I was a kid, Simon...a child," you broke down.

"And don't get me started on why I felt like Christmas was just not a happy holiday anymore." Your mind went to a past Christmas, your family yelling, your father accused of his cheating, never denying, just lying and yelling at your mother. You hid in a closet, grabbed headphones and played music loudly. Hours passed and your mother saw fear within her eyes as she cried to you, why can he love me? she asked as she cried, you played strong. Your father drove away, leaving his family scared and cornered in a bathroom, crying as they listened to stories.

"My dad used to hit me, well, my entire family really," you confessed. His eyes widened, he knew they were bad, but not this bad. "My dad had a belt he used to hit me with, my mother and sisters used to watch. One time, they added more fuel to the fire as they told him more lies to get me into more trouble, part of me thinks they loved to watch me cry and get hit." You so innocently say, "When I was a kid and even as I grew older, my mum and dad would hit me and tell me they did it because they loved me." He shook his head, "Never...never in your life do you dare think that way. If I even dare to lift my hand at you, you leave me, my love. Because no matter how much you or I love the other, abuse doesn't equal love," he cups your face. You nod.

You learned one thing from Simon as he listened, that he was calm after the bad storm. He had his troubles, yes, but never would he be like them. He and you healed the other after all those years of a bad life you lived. You and him, sunshine to the other even in the darkest of the night. He has become light and a new beginning. Family. And as you admire the soul who can tell which smiles you are faking, you know that the little girl in you is finally safe. She has packed her dolls and sweater, moved to the countryside, grew up and fell in love with a man. A man who is home, a man who became the grown-up little R/N runs to when scared. For he is home, he is light and he is love. He is your man, your safe place and the one you find comfort in.

I don't believe that time will change your mind In other words I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

"No more," he told you, you looked up at him in confusion. "No more?" you asked and he shook his head. "From this day on, you are not their blood, you are a Riley, you are R/N Riley and never will you be associated with them." He cupped your face. His tone was stern as he tried to make you listen to him. "They are not family, my love. They are strangers you lived with. And me...I am your family, we don't need another shit Christmas, we can...hm...we can have dinner here, or maybe get takeout and watch your favourite movies all day and night. Hey, who knows, maybe that Santa Clause man will come in the night as we sleep and hopefully you've been nice my love because I want him to bring you some good gifts," he chuckles as he cups your delicate face. You laugh a little, "Hey, look who's back, that cute laugh of yours my love," he kisses your lips and pulls you to him, closer than you already were.

You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

In this lifetime, you will learn many things and you will meet many people. Most of which will come and go. Those who stay, you may ask? Well, they become a family, maybe not a biological one but it's not blood that relates two strangers. It's memories, it's understanding, growing, living and loving. Family is him, family is the old lady or that professor you bonded with. Family is people who make you feel safe and at home. For if you are lucky, in this life you will find your Simon Riley. The person who wraps you in a warm blanket and loves you a little more when you hate the reflection in the mirror. And if you get even luckier, you will find that not only will it be Simon Riley who heals your old wounds and covers them in kisses and caresses. You will find yourself, maybe in ten years, getting covered in glitter, mud, and stickers and having the walls of your home drawn on by Simon's child. The love child that was created on a warm Christmas morning. The same one that wakes you up at six in the morning to go and see what the big red man brought them for Christmas.

And if you are lucky enough, you will find peace. The same one you looked for since age 5, the same one you cried for throughout the years. Maybe it won't come this year, but if you are patient enough, you will find it and when you do, appreciate it because you cried for it many moons ago.

You don't have to be sorry, no

A/N: the tears I shed as I wrote this made a river. Anyway, thank you for letting me dump years of trauma with this one, love you all <3

Tags:

@ghostslillady @liyanahelena @sans-chara @siwwayouu @allaboutirem0 @just3rowsing @mothcelestial @blankk3

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khuzena · 1 year

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✎Regret, love and death

Itoshi Rin, Itoshi Sae, Michael Kaiser x g/n!reader

Summary: The bllk boys break up with you not knowing you're terminally ill and they meet you again but this time you're dying right in front of them.

Warning: Angst, no fluff, breakup and breakdown, death, grief

A/n: this is super cliche ik but this has been on my mind for months now, it's time i actually write about it. Listening to ditto while making this. I tried to make it g/n so bear with me

Itoshi Rin

"Stay in the middle, like you a little"

Itoshi Rin who left you months ago after a stupid argument he wishes he could've prevented. He tells himself that he doesn't need you anymore and that he'll never open up his heart again.

Itoshi Rin who gets mad when he sees happy couples, he swears it's anger and jealousy but it's mostly confusion and betrayal. He believed that it was your fault that he became this vulnerable but he willingly gave his heart to you.

Being a professional athlete like Itoshi Rin it's common to regularly get some injuries here and there so he visits the hospital.

He waited patiently right outside his clinic, an earbud in one ear and he listened to the environment around him. Squeaky wheelchairs, cries from a hospital room nearby and patients conversing in daily chit-chat. The line at the clinic was taking too long so he decided he'll go next time; but something caught his eye. The soles of his shoes clack on the marble floor at the empty hallway and the music he's listening to but he hears the faint beating of a heart monitor. Then, he sees your name in one hospital room.

He couldn't believe his eyes. There was a folder attached loosely on the door, your name written in lazy cursive and numerous descriptions he couldn't understand. Rereading and rereading the name on the folder over and over again, his eyes narrowed as he decided to look over to the glass window at the door; he saw you. Rin doesn't understand why you were here and why the folder was marked "terminal— confined" . The writings are too messy for him to understand but his heart beats loudly through his body like a gong.

He tries to convince himself it's probably someone else but he knew you too much to know that the one stuck in that wrinkly hospital bed was you.

He has to go, he has to but he doesn't. He takes a deep breath and opens the door. You open your eyes as you realize your peace was disturbed from the loud creaking of the door. You scrunch your nose and blink your eyes as you take a look at the figure standing at the side of your bed, it was Rin.

"You… why are you here?" He whispered, you could barely hear him but he stared down at you with pity, anger, grief— you don't know.

"I should be the one asking you that." Your voice was muffled by the oxygen mask strapped to your head as you sat yourself up and looked up to him, he tried to avoid your gaze as he looked over to the IVs inserted into your wrists, wires everywhere he was sure he almost stepped on one.

Rin furrowed his brows in irritation, all this pent up anger from the break up bursting all at once, "What the fuck happened to you?"

You gave him a weak smile, "A week before we broke up… I was diagnosed with a heart disease. I couldn't tell you what happened to me, then we fought but I was too scared and stressed I broke things off."

Rin breathes raggedly, fear and guilt flooding his senses; wondering why he was such an idiot to leave you.

"Will you get better?"

You smile again at his stupidity, you know he's seen the document attached at the door saying 'patient in hospice' but Rin wants to hear it from you, he wants you to confirm his thoughts. Maybe even deny it so he'll feel better. You feel tears drip down your arm as you watch him shaken like he's seen a ghost.

"I won't, so go now."

Rin wants to pour out all his emotions, everything welling up inside his heart— the thoughts brewing in the depths of his heart that ate him alive from the time you were seperated but he holds himself back.

His knees buckled and his strength prior to this incident dissipated into nothing as he held onto his remaining resolve. Like the coward he always was, he leaves and never comes back… but he will come back to you eventually; with a chrysanthemum in hand this time and a fresh black suit he picked out.

Itoshi Sae

"Don't want no riddle, Say it, Say it back"

Itoshi Sae who visits Japan for the first time in months, only going back to renew his passport.

It wasn't his intention to pass by your old friend group in public, he eavesdropped on their mindless conversation then they started talking about you.

Itoshi Sae listens to their conversation, getting some details about you. Hearing that you got confined somewhere and that there was no one to take care of you other than the nurses and hospice workers stationed at your room.

Itoshi Sae who tries to keep that newfound information out of his mind but the thought of you being confined in a hospital is making his heart race. Not in love nor from the butterflies he used to get when talking to you— no. He couldn't stop thinking of you. He promised to himself to never interact with you, avoid every single thing that reminded him of you but he couldn't. He just couldn't.

Itoshi Sae who visits the hospital and asks where you are, pretending that he was a visitor to the nurses was easier than he thought.

"Are you asking about that patient?"

He nodded, the nurse was stupid enough to fall for his charms as she sent him the directions to your room. Sae knows what dangerous game he's playing, if he comes back to you again then it defeats the purpose of avoiding you forever like he promised himself but he still goes.

It was a nice afternoon, birds chirping and he saw little children from the nursery running around in the hallways with toys in their hands. He mentally prepared himself for what he was about to see, turning away from your hospital room for a moment before entering.

His eyes softened for a moment when he laid his eyes on you, you were reading a book— an eerie one at that. Sae raised an eyebrow when he noticed that you didn't hear him enter, what if you were deliberately ignoring him? He was sure you were but he didn't catch your attention until he stepped closer to your bed, a shadow looming over you as you slowly looked up to him.

The two of you stare at each other for what it felt like forever, he's still looking at you like that. Love in his irises but there's a tint of melancholy.

You could see Sae saying something to you, you tried to read his lips but his words fell on deaf ears.

Sae was getting irritated on why you didn't respond but you took the white board that was resting on your bedside table. He patiently watched you write something on the board, clack, clack, clack.

'Im deaf. I can't hear you.'

Just months ago you were fine but he gets more ill with worry when his mind starts to drift and wonder what could've happened to you when he left you here all alone.

You erased the writing on the board, giddily like a child as you handed him the board next, signaling him to also write you something.

The athlete hesitated for a moment before grabbing the board off your hands, writing something hastily. He feels like if he wasted any more time he'll lose everything— but he knew that he already did the moment when he called it quits months ago.

'What happened', he wrote on the board, streaks of ink staining his palm but that's the least of his worries.

You sat up in a more comfortable position before opening the drawer, taking a clipboard, medical documents clipped to the board. Sae reads the papers, his throat starts burning and he feels tears building up in his eyes. He flips through the papers, information about your condition printed on the tiny pieces of paper as he reads through everything.

You couldn't understand what he was muttering under his breath but you were sure it was something… the way he bit his lip to hold back the tears and the way his hands got sweaty as he scanned the board.

Sae loved many things, you, soccer, coffee and the beach. There was something about hospitals that made him uneasy. Hospitals correlated to injury and death— a big no no for him. But as an athlete, a pro one at that it's not surprising that he regularly visits the hospital for nutrition advice or medicine. Though… this one was his worst visit yet. He told himself that he won't ever cry or love you again, that's why it's 'Sae loved' but he realizes he still loves you. Even though you're stuck on the hospital bed, sickly and dying, your arms littered with scars from the tubes that go in and out your skin and maybe the way you look so frail and skinny now compared to what you looked like months ago; he still loves you. He realized that in this moment he's always going to be looking for you the way you pathetically looked for him in the hospital, wishing he was there after you two broke up.

At least now the gods were merciful enough to grace you with his presence for the last time, even in this situation you still smiled at him like he deserved to see that again.

Itoshi Sae who visits you again tomorrow before you pull off the plug, Pain plastered on his face as he holds you tightly. He broke his promise.

To you, to never hurt you.

To himself, to never love you again.

Michael Kaiser

"Oh say it ditto, Can't wait till the morning, So say it ditto"

Michael Kaiser pretends he's fine after the break up and to distract himself from the pain, he dates other people— looking for someone who can fill the void you carved in his heart, looking for you.

Michael Kaiser who still wears the cardigan you bought him, giving him solace and comfort when he curls up in his bed alone, wishing you were there with him.

You and Kaiser didn't break up on bad terms, more like a confusing and neutral breakup. He told you he was done and you didn't beg him to stay, after all he neglected you for his selfish desires. He's like an icarus who has flown too close to the sun, his ego representing the melting wax wings of icarus— it burned your skin and melted your patience.

Michael Kaiser still stalks you in his other account you forgot that existed. He wouldn't admit it but he patiently waited for an update on your account.

Michael Kaiser who stalks your account and finally sees something. Your parents' post talking about you being stuck in the hospital.

Michael Kaiser doesn't cry, he can't. Images on the posts ingraining— burning itself in the deepest parts of his brain then it triggers something in him. Confusion.

He doesn't know the exact details of your situation but he's too curious to scroll past the post.

Michael Kaiser who gets a cab and arrives at your hospital, like a man with no shame he looks for your room.

It was nighttime and the hospital was uncannily quiet, he wasn't sure why but the guard was doing a terrible job at guarding the entrance of the hospital. Kaiser walks past the sleepy guard, ignoring the thumping sound of the guard falling on the floor as he makes his way to the lady on the desk.

"What brings you in here, sir?"

He pushes up his glasses, "I'm looking for my lover, [patient name]", he says boldly, lying through his teeth but he knows it's the only way they'll let him in.

"Give me a minute," the nurse starts flipping through the hospital log book, "They're at room 405, third floor."

Kaiser nods, thanking the nurse as he takes the elevator.

'ding' Kaiser enters the elevator, checking his watch while waiting for it to arrive at the third floor. The elevator was dimmed and it looked like a scene straight from horror movies, another old lady in a wheelchair strolls to the elevator.

"What's a handsome young man like you doing in the dead of the night here?" The grandma says in a hoarse voice, grey hairs covering her face as she holds onto both her wheelchair and fruits.

Though Kaiser is an asshole, a liar, he naturally had a soft spot for children and the elderly. "I'm here for my… lover" he doesn't know what gave it away but the older woman noticed the hesitance in his voice.

The grandma nodded at his reply, 'ding!'

"I guess this is my stop." Kaiser stepped out of the elevator, waving goodbye to the elderly woman and ambled in the hallway.

The scent of disinfectant invaded his nostrils, though the smell gets more diverse as he passes by different hospital rooms. He hears people screaming and crying at the room to his left and the other room dead silent, as if a corpse inhabited the room to his right.

Sweat starts trickling down his forehead when he counts the hospital room's numbers and realizes he's getting closer to yours. 'shit, shit, shit' his mind spiralling into madness, anxiety as he braces himself for what he's about to see.

His legs started to feel like jelly as his feet dragged him in front of your hospital room. A feeling of uncertainty, something he never felt again after breaking up with you.

Months ago when you two broke up he wondered if maybe you'd crawl back to him, like a child who ran away but comes home again the day after, but you didn't.

The door pulled open as he made his way inside, the lights were turned off but the sound of humming took him by surprise.

"I can hear you, you know."

Oh, that voice. That voice that could soothe him on days like these, your voice so gentle he thinks it's a sweet melody, a lullaby so sweet it would bring the devil down on his knees begging and repenting for forgiveness if he ever heard your voice.

The German boy doesn't come forward, only staring at your disheveled figure on the bed, waiting for death themselves to take you away from your misery.

"Have you eaten yet?"

Your fingers traced the lamp before finding the switch, making a flick sound as the soft illuminating glow lights up the room. You nod as you sit up, hugging yourself as you find comfort in the bandages that wrapped around your body.

"I'm sorry." It was the first time he's ever said this to you in ages, he wished he said this to you back then, he wishes that he was there for you.

Maybe he was the devil, cruel and mean, strong yet so weak. His knees buckled as he let out a choked sob, his fears that builded up couldn't hold in much longer as tears streamed down his face.

"Why didn't you tell me?" Kaiser says in between his sobs, the prideful man being broken down into a pathetic, crying mess.

Your fingers fiddled together in anxiety, you always had that stupid habit of yours when in distress. As much as you couldn't forgive Kaiser— he's too weak, too vulnerable for you to ignore.

Still Kaiser was shameless but not too shameless to go even a few inches closer to your bed, his mind racing— thinking that everything is all his fault as his heart rate goes up.

"Why should I? We're not even together." His chest tightens, if anyone could see him right now they'd think he's a fucking idiot— crying over the dying lover he left to rot in the hospital? Piece of shit.

"Yeah I know." He tries to calm himself down but he knows it's useless when you pick up on his uneasy behavior.

Kaiser wanted to ask you, 'let's get back together?' or maybe 'please forgive me' because he's a shameless prick but it's the first time he doesn't let his pride take over his senses.

He grieves right in front of you, your eyes never leaving his as his body language is signaling you, begging you to say something but it's better that you didn't.

He has all the time in the world to grieve for you after all, he's a shameless, selfish man… isn't he?

Notes: hell nah i'm sorry if there was so many grammar mistakes and stuff this isn't really proofread and i'm thinking of opening requests so like uh what do you guys think should i open requests

Written by @khuzena. Likes, reblogs and comments are always appreciated. ♡

#blue lock fanfic #blue lock x reader #bllk x reader #blue lock #itoshi rin x reader #bllk angst #bllk fluff #blue lock ansgt #michael kaiser x reader #itoshi sae x reader #itoshi sae angst #itoshi rin angst #michael kaiser #what have i done #go girl give us nothing #blue lock fluff #✎♡Zena's thoughts~

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user2772636 · 1 month

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Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE

#joseph descamps #joseph descamps x reader #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #reader insert #fanfic #enemies to lovers #angst #fluff #love triangle #slow burn

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doggone-devil · 2 months

Text

How (Not) to Summon a Demon: Chapter 8

...and so it begins, my dear Readers. So it begins. Pairing: Alastor x fem!Reader Warnings: mentions of abusive, r/p/e, exes being absolute assholes, Alastor ready to kill, threats, stalking

Word Count: 2, 525

The day had gone surprisingly well, despite the horrible way it started. You had spent it with Alastor and Veronica, but mostly Alastor since your roommate decided she wanted to go do other things. Alastor had been a wonderful gentleman, holding doors open for you, letting you hold his arm as you walked. He even had you on his right side, away from the road. He was so old fashion it made you swoon, but you fought off the butterflies and kept a cool head.

Now you sat on the hood of your car, waiting for Veronica who said twenty minutes ago that she was just finishing up at a store and would be on her way. The sun was setting, turning the sky orange and red, little stars starting to shine through overhead. You glance at Alastor who stood by the car, his eyes watchful around the parking lot.

"Sorry she's taking so long," you apologize again, holding your head in your hands as you prop your elbows on you knees.

"It's alright. I'm sure she's just having fun," he says. "I hope you did, as well." You can't fight the large smile as it comes.

"Yeah, I did. Did you?" You watch his face carefully, trying to see if you can read him. It's hard, what with his constant smile. Why was that?

"Indeedy! Might be the most fun I've had since 1933!" You giggle, watching him spread his arms out and swirl his cane. He stops and faces you, dipping low. "Was a pleasure, my dear, thank you."

"Don't thank me," you say, crossing your arms. "Veronica was the one who mentioned it." You initially were going to stay in your room today and worry if your ex was coming to kidnap you. Oh no. Now you were thinking about him. Great. Way to ruin your own mood.

Alastor must notice how your shoulders drop as he steps forward. His body is blocking your view of Bourbon Street and you have to crane your neck to see him properly. Damn, you forgot how tall he is. "Everything alright, darling?" he asks. You note the way his smile is lowered, still there but now with pressed lips, like a frown.

"I'm ok," you lie. You don't want to burden him with your troubles. He's a demon, you're sure he won't care. No matter how much fun you had today, no matter what he says or does, he's only here cause you summoned him. Once you make your wish, he's gone. There's no point in letting your heart melt like it's doing now, no point in gasping when he leans close to you. Why is he so close?

"Darling," he says softly, tilting your chin to make you look up at him again. There's no point falling for him, so why is he making it so hard not to? "If there's anything bothering you, you can tell me. Let me help you." Fuck. Yep. You're screwed. Demon or not, your heart drops like an anchor out in the ocean, falling fast and hard to the sea floor.

"I -"

"There you guys are!" Veronica's voice pulls you back and you lean away from Alastor. You swear you see his brows dip in anger, but it's gone as he straightens up.

"About time you show up," you joke but the smile fades when you see Veronica. Her face is pale, like she's seen a ghost, panting as she catches her breath. Had she been running? "What's wrong?" Veronica looks up at you, clearly worried.

"What does your ex look like again?"

No.

No, no, no.

It can't be.

You feel your body growing cold, your hands shaking. "W-What?"

"It could've been someone else," she backtracks, shaking her head and reaching for your phone. You let her take it, fingers too numb to move. She goes through your photos until she stops on the only recent one you had of your ex. "Oh my god."

Your heart drops again, for a different reason this time. Fear crawls up your spine, wrapping itself around your throat.

Please, it can't be.

"Girlie, we need to leave," Veronica says, trying to hand you your phone back. You don't grab it, you can't move. You're stuck, tears forming.

He's here. He's found you. It's all over.

You hear Veronica shout your name, but it's lost to the rush of wind in your ears. You can't hear anything.

"What's wrong?" Alastor asks. Veronica shows him the photo.

"This douchebag is her ex and he's here. He's like, stalked her or some shit!" Veronica explains. "I know it's not my place to say, sorry girlie -" she sends you an apologetic look "- but this asshole abused her. It's why she left him."

Now you hear your name. It's Alastor this time. He has your head in his hands, forcing you to look at him. His eyes are glowing red as he peers into yours. You gasp, the damn breaking as you begin to cry. "H-He can't…H-He's going to hurt me!"

"Not while I'm here, he's not," Alastor states, voice hard as he scoops you into his arms. You let him, too scared to move on your own. Veronica's eyes widen, pointing between the two of you.

"Ok, we're going to revisit this later, but right. Let's leave." She takes your keys and gets in the driver's seat, Alastor placing you in the back with him. He buckles you up as Veronica begins to skid off from the parking lot and back to your apartment.

"Does he know where she lives?" you hear Alastor ask, clearly talking to Veronica.

"Not that I know of?" she answers. "I mean, if he showed up there, chances are it's a yes." She hits the steering wheel with the palm of her hand. "God! Why are men such pigs? No offense."

"None taken," Alastor says, looking back down at you. You're shaking like a leaf, eyes unfocused, no doubt lost in your thoughts. He tugs at your chin again but you can't see him. Not clearly. Everything around you is buzzing, memories of your past clouding your mind. The arguments, the fights, the bruises. You absently rub at your thighs, the scars throbbing. You feel sick.

"Stop," you whisper but it's unheard. You say it again, louder. "Stop!" Veronica slams on the breaks, a car blaring its horn behind you. You claw your way out of the car just as the bile rises. You puke violently, your stomach lurching in disgust as your mind plagues you with the memories of that night. His hands on your body, on your throat, ignoring your cries and pleas for him to stop. You had begged him, even praying for death when he wouldn't stop. You puke again, couching. A hand rubs your back, but you can't tell who.

"We need to get her back to the apartment," you hear someone say. "It's not safe out here."

Your name is called, faded and faint but you hear it. Then it's in your head, beckoning you. You feel yourself calming down, the sickness in your stomach ebbing away. You stand on weak legs, wobbling and swaying. The hand on your back comes to rest at your hip, steadying you. It's Alastor.

You whimper and lean into him. He picks you back up in his arms, carrying you back to the car. This time, he doesn't bother to buckle you, keeping you in his arms, tight against his chest. You hold on to him, needing him like a lifeline. Veronica gets back in and continues the drive.

It doesn't take long before you're being carried into the apartment, Veronica deadbolting the door behind you. Alastor takes you to your room, setting you on the bed. He goes to move away but you clasp tightly to his shirt. A silent hint for him to stay. He sits down by your side, his hand grasping yours to hold. You don't want to be alone. You can't.

Veronica joins you two, your phone in her hand. She looks pissed, angrier than earlier as she holds the screen up to you. It's opened to your messages and you see the new number, the letters making you feel sick all over again.

'Thought you could get away?'

You grab the phone, deleting the message instantly, but another appears.

'I'm coming for you, little rabbit.'

You throw the phone against your wall, the screen cracking. It goes off again with another notification, then another. You cover your ears, begging it to stop.

"Geez, this guy can't take a hint!" Veronica says. "Should I call the police?" You shake your head violently.

"No!" you shout. "No cops. Please. It'll only make it worse." You remember the last time you got the cops involved. He had charmed his way out of the dispute so easily and the consequences afterwards had nearly killed you. "No cops."

"Ok, ok. No cops." Veronica shifts by your side, kneeling down. "But, girlie, we gotta do something. I've seen the aftermath of this asshole. It took me a year just to get you out of the house. I'm not letting him ruin you again."

"You don't understand," you whisper, rocking back and forth now. "He won't stop. He won't stop coming for me. Not until I'm dead."

"I doubt he'll kill you. Stalk you? Sure. Threaten you? What abusive ex doesn't?"

"Veronica," you interrupt her. It's time to come clean. To tell her everything. "He almost has." Veronica's eyes widen.

"What are you talking about?"

"John almost killed me," you confess, hating the way his name bites at your tongue. "The last time I tried to escape, he nearly killed me, telling me if I ever left him again, he would finish the job. He even…" you trail off, not able to say out loud the horrendous things he did to you. Instead, you sit upright, turning your torso as you lift your shirt. On your lower back at marks, scars from his doing. You don't show her the others, already feeling like you're going to puke again.

"I didn't know." She lifts her hand, as if to touch them, but stops. You lower your shirt back down.

"I didn't tell you," you say. "I didn't want you to know. It's something I've been trying so hard to forget." You glance now, to Alastor. He's been silent the whole time and when you look at him, you know why. His body is vibrating with anger, his eyes cold and dark. The smile he always has, the one that's come to comfort you, is stretched so thin you're worried his skin will crack.

"Alastor?" you call out. His head snaps to you, the anger dissolving only a little. He forces his smile to relax some, for your sake. "Veronica, could I have some time with Alastor? Alone?" You know she's going to question you about it later, but thankfully, she does as you ask. Once she's out of your room, the door shut, you grab Alastor's hands. His finger lengthen, the skin darkening as claws appear. His human form fades away as the demon he is shines through. You gasp.

His horns are large, doubled in size and nearly reaching your ceiling. His eyes are pitch black save for two tiny, red dots. Blood drips down his chin as his sharp teeth bite into his lip, strained from how tight he clenches his jaw.

You should be horrified, terrified, absolutely appalled by his appearance, but you aren't.

Your hand reaches tenderly up to him, turning him to look at you. "Al," you softly speak his name. He leans into your touch but doesn't speak, not at first. A low, guttural growl resonates from within his chest.

"I won't let him touch you." His voice is deep, static dripping on every word. Your startled when he quickly leans over you, his upper body caging you in as he places his hands on either side of your head, forcing you to lay back. "He can't have you."

"He won't." You keep your voice gentle, letting Alastor know that you trust him.

Trust him?

You can't trust him. He's a demon.

No, you disagree with the voice in your head. He may be a demon but you can trust him.

"You said you'll protect me, right?" you ask, watching as Alastor's body slowly begins to relax. You place a hand on his neck, fingers rubbing at the underside of his hair. His antlers shrink back down, the black of his eyes gone with a blink, those warm, red orbs back to normal. You smile up at him, "There he is."

"Sorry," Alastor breathes out.

"It's ok." You don't feel any fear like you did earlier, only warmth and security. You knew that, no matter what, Alastor was here. He was with you and he wouldn't let anything happen to you. Demon or not, you knew the moment he vowed to protect you, you were in love with him.

"I should," Alastor says, moving away from you. He sits at the end of your bed, putting space between you. It makes your heart ache, but you understand. He doesn't want to scare you.

"Girlie, I'm coming in!" Veronica opens your door. "I brought you some water." You panic for a second, looking to Alastor, but he's back to his human form. How quickly he could do that never ceased to amaze you.

She hands you a glass and you thank you, gulping it down. You hadn't realized your throat was so dry, the cold liquid soothing. You set the glass down and stand up, feeling a renewed strength. You walk over to where your phone laid, bending over to pick it up. The screen lit up, thirty new messages unread. You opened them, anger building as you read each one.

"That does it." You turn on your heel, looking at Veronica and Alastor. "If he wants me, I'm not going down without a fight."

"Hell yeah! That's what I'm talking about!"

"You're not confronting him," Alastor states and you shake your head.

"No, but I am going to lure him into a trap. This bastard thinks he can get away with this, he's got another thing coming." You walk back over to your bed. "Here's the plan. Veronica, you'll be my 911 operator. I'm going to get him to think I'm meeting up with him -"

"No."

"- and then once he shows up, I'm gonna have my phone recording everything. Once he starts acting up, you'll call the police -"

"No."

"- and when they get there, I'll have everything on video. Evidence to prove my case against him."

"That's not happening," Alastor repeats, louder this time.

"Don't worry," you say, "you're going to be my backup. If he gets out of hand, you'll jump in and save me. I'll be fine." Alastor doesn't look like he believes you.

"Ok, so when are we doing this?" Veronica asks. You look at your phone, reading the last message John sent you.

"Tomorrow." You swipe your thumbs over the keyboard, typing out the text and hit send. It doesn't even take a second before he's responding, putting your plan into action.

"Tomorrow, I'm making this bastard pay."

AN: Whew... this is. Yeah. Till tomorrow, my dear readers.

taglist: @i-like-potatoes12533, @girl-nahh-two, @mcntsee, @projectdreamwalker, @sassmasterxx, @alsemain, @yunimimii, @noraunor, @justneo11, @dragonlover123a, @falsemain, @ephemeralxv, @theshello, @wonderlandangelsposts, @weirdflower2024, @yourworstgf

Masterlist , Ao3

#Hazbin Hotel Fanfiction #Hazbin Hotel Fanfic #Hazbin Fanfiction #Hazbin Fanfic #Alastor Fanfiction #Alastor Fanfic #Hazbin Hotel Alastor #Hazbin Alastor Fanfiction #alastor x you #Hazbin Alastor #Hazbin Alastor Fanfic #Alastor x Reader #Alastor x you #alastor x reader

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bluecookies02 · 2 months

Text

When words fail me, kiss the secrets off my lips-[trans!levi x reader]

summary:

"Can you promise me something then?”. “When you do leave. You will not tell a soul.”

Levi kisses you, similarly to how he did the first time. Clumsily and stiff. And then he melts against you.

He doesn't regret kissing you. He refuses to regret it.

He will not regret it once you rip yourself away from him in disgust, fumbling for your things and slamming his door shut. He will not regret it once he has to transfer you to a different squad and after that, he won't regret never speaking to you again.

//or//

Levi's mother had to do whatever she thought was best for his survival underground. He's 34 now and he has been keeping a secret for as long he can remember.

Can he let himself trust someone to keep it? Just this once.

cw: Angst with a Happy Ending, Scissoring, Vaginal Fingering, Oral Sex, Virgin Levi

word count: 5.5k

Roughly thirty years ago, Kuchel, an underground prostitute had a child. In the secrecy of her run-down hotel room, she gave birth all alone.

Bringing a child into this world and surrounding it with filth and violence was not something she wished for.

She grieved the life her child could've had, if only she was born somewhere else.

If only this beautiful kid in her bloody arms was blessed enough to be born by someone else, someone who could give this child the life where it would not know hunger, fear, and desperation of the underground city from the moment it opened its eyes.

The child was tiny, awfully malnourished, yet its hands gripped tightly onto her pinky finger as she carried them both to the bathroom. She vowed to sacrifice everything for it the moment its beautiful eyes sparked up at her and its cries of life reached her ears. She promised to love this child, even if its conception came from anything but.

______________

Levi’s earliest memories of his mother consist of gentle touches and soft and shaky lullabies she would sing after a client would leave the hotel, throwing a pathetic amount of cash on the floor for her to gather up on her knees.

Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter. Levi was raised as a boy.

Today, there is only one living person that carries this secret.

It was the first thing Kuchel would have to do in order to protect her kid. Not only to keep it safer while it grew up but for the fear that her daughter would end up following in her footsteps, meeting the same hell she was soon to endure.

It served Levi well in the great scheme of things.

He had to adapt to being alone, putting on a cold facade so that nobody came close enough to uncover what his mother gave her life to keep hidden.

Repulsed by touch due to his upbringing made it easier, the desire to be close to people buried deep under years of cries and screams of horror he had to listen to in his earliest years of life. Some came from his own mother, others from women alike. They were everywhere, no matter what corner of the underground you hid in, someone, somewhere was desperately trying to get prying hands off of them.

______________

Adapting to life in the scouts took years.

Not reacting violently to a friendly pat on the back required hard work on his end. Those who hadn't seen him in his first days outside still think he's a savage when he brushes hands off his shoulders or creates space between himself and cheering groups after an expedition.

There were a handful of moments when the desire to hug someone was almost unbearable, an impulse that made him sick to his stomach and his knees weak.

His friends, comrades, the man who raised him. All of which happened when the life inside their eyes seemed to completely fade and they were too weak or too far gone to hug him back.

‘Living a life with no regrets’ is a drive people with too many of them under their belt choose as a last resort.

A human mind is not strong enough to hold onto all of them and stay sane, so naturally at one point, either you let your regrets pull you down into pits of insanity, or you create a delusion to follow in order to keep the weight on your soul that much lighter.

____________

“‘Vi? Are you alright?” your voice snaps Levi out of his thoughts. The bottom of his teacup comes into view as he regains his focus.

He hums, looking up at you, spread out on his couch, peeking over your book with a concerned look on your face.

It's been roughly a year and a half since Levi fell in love for the first time in his life, at the late age of 33. A year of which he spent trying to crush that feeling any way he possibly could.

You sitting there, freely and unafraid like you own the space he lives in, proves that his efforts were futile.

Seven months ago, after an expedition, Levi hugged you hard enough to knock the air out of your lungs, almost landing both of you on the ground. It progressed slowly from there.

Not only was the progress agonizingly slow, but it was also terribly rocky. Screaming matches, cold shoulders, silent treatments, venomous words flying off of both of your tongues before one of you inevitably admits defeat and knocks on the other's door in the middle of the night.

Levi's ego won't let him admit that 80% of the time it was him crawling to you. He felt like he couldn't breathe if he was not on good terms with you. It would eat him out during his naturally sleepless nights until he went mad with the desire to fix it. Bless his soul he never knew how to.

He would often show up at your door, both words and actions failing him the second you let him into your room.

You understood though.

His intentions were always clear as day to you. You often said how you could easily figure out what he was thinking from his eyes alone.

“I'm fine, read your stupid romance junk” his response earned him a huff and a smile. Then there's silence.

Silence compels him to fill the space with words.

It would be much easier if you were to try and force him to talk, then he could quickly get you both on his familiar ground.

Fighting.

You know better by now.

“I'm sorry about this morning” he speaks up, looking back down at his paperwork.

He's met with silence again. He knows that it's not for your lack of forgiveness, you being here is obvious proof of that.

It's you, creating more space for him to talk.

You close your book, sitting up, patiently waiting.

Levi fell in love a year and a half ago.

Levi hugged you for the first time seven months ago.

Levi let you hold his hand for the first time four months ago.

Levi kissed you for the first time a month ago.

Thirty-four years ago, Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter.

Levi is still the only living person to know this.

_____________

The first kiss you shared was terrible. It was still the best thing Levi felt up until that point in his life.

You weren't stupid. He didn't need to tell you that he had no idea what he was doing, it was more than obvious with the way he moved against your mouth, equally clumsy and stiff at the same time. Judging by that, it was also not a secret that he never slept with anyone either.

Kissing you sends shivers down his spine and makes his fingers itch to touch you, mind going fuzzy whenever you deepen the kiss with gentle hands on his cheek or around his neck.

Everything was moving too fast. He dreaded the moment when he would have to confront this.

There were admittedly a few options.

Lie, be truthful, or simply… push you away and cherish what little he had with you in these few months, and then continue loving you from afar.

Levi did neither.

He felt terrible at this point. He was selfish, cruel, and fucking terrified. Because for some reason, when he has you within reach, he can’t stop himself from wanting you. His words contradict his actions, time and time again.

His hands are always eager to hold you, seek out and touch every part that they can grip onto. Especially when the kisses grow hotter, needier, and more bold.

His fingers slip under your shirt, at first only to feel the soft skin of your hips against his rough hands…and then they want more. Desperately.

So how can he explain himself?

After walking out on you for the nth time? Abruptly stopping you from reciprocating and bolting out of the room, leaving you all alone to figure out what you did wrong. Letting him do whatever he wanted also didn't work, because, at some point, he would stop on his own, hands snapping to his sides as if he got burned.

You took the rejections with grace, nodding and smiling at him. “Of course”, “That's alright”, “‘Vi, we don't have to, you know that right?”. You were getting exhausted though.

___________

So this time, when he pulled you into his lap, both of your lips swollen and red from kissing for so long, your hands gripped his the moment you felt them reach around your back and down your long skirt.

“I think that we need to stop doing this.”

Your words startled him, even if your voice was tiny, barely audible. He was stopped dead in his tracks, a gasp leaving his glossy lips as he heaved for air.

“We can just stick to holding hands or something, is that okay?”

He was speechless for a moment, yet your eyes were insisting on a reply, holding his gaze, your legs gripping him tighter to stop him from going away before giving any form of an answer. Frustration was evident on your face, and looking at you like that made him nauseous.

“Okay.” he had to will himself to talk, mumbling it out with great effort.

“Okay” you repeated, a little quieter, standing up on your feet, already on your way to the door.

“Will you come by for tea tonight?” your face softened at his panicked expression, and you knew the question was anything but a simple invitation.

Will you come back?

Is it too far gone?

Did he irredeemably fuck it up?

“Of course ‘Vi, I'll keep you company while you do your paperwork too”

_____________

“And for all the other times…” you nodded, making space on the couch. An invitation.

Levi took it, making his way to you before sitting down again. Usually, he wouldn't be so quick with it.

Today, he needed to ease the ache in his chest.

Fears of you not showing up tonight, the hard grip on his wrists that he can still feel if he thinks about it a little harder. The general tension was suffocating.

“I'm not trying to mess with you either.”

“I know.”

“I've never done it before”

“I know that too”

There's a pause, your hand slowly inching to his.

He selfishly takes it.

“I don't know what I want.”

“I don't really believe that, you always know.”

“You're right.”

You're chewing at your lip, still not looking at him. He might run off if you stare at him too much during a serious conversation.

He hates himself for teaching you that.

“I want to”

“Okay”

“I'm terrified of it”

You hum.

You knew about his mother.

“Not because of what my mother was, I think that's not the main problem anymore”

“Oh…” you nod again, squeezing his hand once in encouragement.

“I can't give you what you need”

“You don't need to give me anything.”

“I want to. I can't.”

He's sweating, his hand turning clammy and slippery in your own.

“You have everything I need though…I'm really trying to understand Lev-”

“I don't.”

“What do you mean…” you're searching through answers in your head.

“Does it not work anymore?” it would be offensive if anyone else said it, but the way you ask is timid, gentle, and already full of understanding.

He shakes his head no.

“Not that”

“Are you concerned about the…size?”

“No!” he doesn't even have one, why does the insinuation that it's small offend him for a moment, he isn't sure.

But.

“What if I was?”

It's close to it, isn't it?

“I mean usually guys think that they-”

“Unusable. What if it's unusable.”

“Can you… not feel good?” bless your heart for always thinking about him before everything.

“I can. What if it was unusable?” he repeats the question, gripping your hand tight in his, his other fisting the cushion of his couch.

“As long as you're willing to touch me in other ways? I already know that you're good with your hands, with practically anything you try. I doubt it would be much different? We could also practice.” your tone is serious, and now you're looking at him, curiously gauging his reaction. Did you say the right thing? He's gonna bolt away any second now.

Levi takes his time to think for a moment. Being delusional, that's what he's doing.

He hums.

“It's not that.”

“Okay” he can sense that you don't believe him now. That's alright. It doesn't change anything.

“You'll run away.”

“I promise I won't!”

“You will.”

“Will not!”

It's futile.

Levi sighs. His heart feels like it's gonna beat out of his chest. Late at night, he would imagine a similar scenario to this. Over and over again.

He would think of ways to drop the conversation. A billion excuses carefully thought through, memorized to perfection.

But it's vastly different in reality.

With you, now propped on your knees on his couch, a hand strongly pulling on his collar to make him look back at you. When did he look away? When did the adoration in your eyes become repulsive enough for him to not be able to bear looking at it? He didn't even notice.

He swallows, throat bobbing as spit and bile struggle to pass the gigantic lump.

His teeth are clenched as well, rubbing uncomfortably against one another. If he doesn't relax his jaw soon, he might even chip them away from how hard they are gritted together.

“Can you promise me something then?”

Selfish.

That's what he always is when it comes to you.

He knows that you would give him anything. Promise him everything if only he demands it.

So he takes it.

Greedily. Pathetically. Miserably.

“When you do leave. You will not tell a soul.” in your head this was too silly. Levi never seemed like he cared for what people talked about behind his back. No matter how awful a rumor would be, he would let people talk. His dick was also a topic of conversation in the scouts more than once. Soldiers need to pass the time somehow.

‘Must be small, he's so short, it would make sense!’

‘Maybe that's where all the height went!!’

If you do leave, he will deal with the heartbreak. What he can't deal with is his secret flowing around at the same time. He simply doesn't know how he would handle both. He actually doesn't know how he would handle the first one either, but he tells himself that he'll manage.

Threatening would also work on anyone but you. You can't threaten someone who doesn't feel a speck of fear towards you.

So he grips at the forced promise.

“Okay ‘Vi. I promise I won't tell a soul. It won't happen though!” your stubbornness parallels his sometimes, and now he relents, finally looking at you.

He pulls you into his lap, like how you were this morning. His hands are shaking, but you're smiling at him, one hand already on his cheek.

‘Living a life with no regrets’ is a drive people with too many of them under their belt choose as a last resort.

Levi's mind is not strong enough to hold onto all of them and stay sane, so naturally at one point, either he lets his regrets pull him down into pits of insanity, or he creates a delusion to follow in order to keep the weight on his soul that much lighter.

Levi kisses you, similarly to how he did the first time. Clumsily and stiff. And then he melts against you.

He doesn't regret kissing you. He refuses to regret it.

He will not regret it once you rip yourself away from him in disgust, fumbling for your things and slamming his door shut.

He will not regret it once he has to transfer you to a different squad and after that, he won't regret never speaking to you again..

As his mind is trying to catch up with everything, your shirt is already off.

He took it off your shoulders himself, hungry for the warm skin of your stomach, your back, and your chest.

He won't regret never having it under his fingertips again. He would regret never doing it when he had the chance.

Your voice is angelic as his lips trail across your shoulders and collar, leaving a sloppy mess in their wake. When your hands grip at the hem of his shirt, he wills his arms to keep still against your hip bones.

You won't notice anything ‘wrong’ there.

It still makes him anxious.

He's flatter than an average man, maybe because of genetics, maybe the piss-poor diet underground, or the lack of sun. Fuck if he knows.

What little could have been noticed would easily be attributed to his workout nowadays.

So he feels your hands on him for the first time.

It’s pleasant. Feeling you grip onto him wherever you can reach as he slips his tongue past your lips. Your cheeks are flushed and warm, eyes closed as you let him lead your kiss.

Despite the nervousness of the impending doom that he's been bracing himself for this whole time, he feels wetness between his legs, soaking through his boxers.

Your long skirt ends up being hiked up and you shyly guide his hands to your thighs.

He watches mesmerized as you find friction on top of his pants, his palms following the gentle sway of your hips.

Maybe if he could get you off like this, he could die a happy man. He'd engrave the image into his brain and replay it for decades probably.

You part for air, gasping and filling your lungs before you press your forehead to his, opening your pretty eyes to look at him again.

“I promised.”

“You did.”

You can feel the anticipation building in your tummy, warm and fuzzy as you readjust on his lap so that you're kneeling with one leg between both of his and the other at his side.

He gives a curt nod, and your fingers easily unbuckle his pants, unbuttoning them and then tugging the zipper down slowly.

He helps you take them to his ankles where he kicks them off the rest of the way.

Levi wants to crawl out of his own skin.

He will regret everything soon enough.

Your fingers slip past the waistband of his underwear, and you ignore the bruising grip on your shoulder. First, you're met with a tuff of thick hair, and then your fingers glide lower. Your lips are inches from his, and you refuse to look down, no matter how curious, you feel like not looking would make him feel a tiny bit more comfortable.

You pass over a tiny bump and Levi's breath hitches as you experimentally fiddle it between your middle and pointer fingers.

An inch or so lower, your digits slip between something warm and slick. Pressing with a little more force, your lips form into a little ‘oh’.

There are plenty of things you want to say, and then a few you want to ask out of pure curiosity. But you have to swallow it down, keep it for later, because Levi's glossy eyes pull at your heart with urgency, begging for a response.

“This is fine.”

“Is it?”

“Mhm.”

“You can leave.”

“I know”

“Are you going to?”

“Not planning to, no.”

Your hand doesn't stop moving, only slows down considerably as you wait for the barrage of questions and possible accusations.

“Is it not gross?”

Was he referring to a pussy in general?

“I've been with women before.”

“I'm not a woman though”

“I know that too.”

“You don't have to lie.”

“I'm not lying.”

“It's weird.”

“I don't think so. Just different.”

“Just different?”

“Yeah.”

He puts a little space between you two, releasing the death grip on your shoulder.

“Don't lie for my sake”

“I'm not lying” you don't mind repeating it.

“I'm serious. I will despise you if you're lying.”

“Good thing I'm not then.”

There's something in him that wants him to fight you more. He wants a different reaction. The one he practiced for, so that he could know what to do.

You keep your distance, but you place your hand closer to him, inches from his own, which is balled up in a tight fist with his nails leaving dull, moon-like crests in his palm.

Minutes drag out, feeling like hours.

When his breath comes out in a shudder, it's a sign that he let himself fall, trusting your words.

You grin when he looks your way again, and he takes your hand in his.

He's pulling you off the couch, stumbling across the room as he drags you behind him. At the door of his bedroom, you feel like you need to kiss him in order to breathe.

Your back ends up pressed to the wooden door then, strong arms picking you up.

Your legs find home around his hips, your arms secured tightly around his neck as he devours your mouth. He pulls your plump lips between his teeth, groaning lowly once your naked chest presses against his.

One of his hands snakes up your side and to the back of your neck, fingers lodging into your hair to keep your head from hitting against the door as you hungrily lick into his mouth.

You fumble for the handle, pushing the door open with your elbow. You feel hot all over, skin burning and shining in sweet sweat that Levi licks off your throat, baring his teeth to the junction of your neck and shoulders to stifle the moans that threaten to surge out when you rack your nails down his back.

He lowers you on the bed slowly, watching as you clumsily get your skirt and underwear off.

He towers over you within seconds, finding a place between your legs that spread out for him eagerly.

He's eating you with his eyes alone, and it sends goosebumps through your spine.

“You're…” his pale skin turns unrecognizably red, and you can see him struggling to come up with any more words.

“Just do whatever, I don't care ‘Vi, just touch me, c'mon…”

He nods, faltering for a moment before he smooths his finger across your heat experimentally. He massages the fat beside your folds with his thumb, the hairs there wet, sticking together due to your arousal.

Being touched by someone feels very much different than it does with your own fingers, you knew that already. But being slowly explored by someone who is desperately trying to learn everything about your body must take the cake.

Levi watches you, every breath you take, and every movement of your hips that buck off the bed. He takes in every gasp and moan rushing past your gorgeous lips as he presses and dips with his fingers.

He spreads your wetness around, coating your clit to make the flicks of his thumb against it smooth. He's not as helpless as he feared he would be, on the contrary, it turns out that it comes relatively easy to excel in something if you already know how to do it to yourself.

And as you mentioned earlier, he does have a way with his hands with everything he picks up. He feels a sense of pride when you start rutting against his hand, hungry for his touch while also being wildly unashamed to show it to him.

“Fuck me, ‘Vi, please for the love of God” you mewl as he takes your hood between two boney fingers, tugging and massaging there.

“Yeah…okay” his voice is raspy, sounding like a purr as he comes close to your face, propping himself on his elbow.

His fingers slowly dip inside you, and he's there to catch your moan as he sinks into you with ease, all the way to his knuckles.

“You're so gorgeous…” he whispers it like it's a secret. You know that saying things like that takes effort from him, not for the lack of meaning behind them.

You see the words at the tip of his tongue often, but hearing them out loud was a rarity.

“You're breathtaking” and now you're being truly spoiled, his fingers rocking into you…slow at first.

“It feels like I'd die without you.”

“Me too”

The confessions hang in the air, and they're deeper than ‘I love you’s’. They express the uncontainable need of two people, drunk on the feeling of each other to the point where they feel like their hearts would simply stop if something ripped them away.

“I'm close, it's embarrassing”

The tempo of his thrusts is now steady, and he watches as you snake your hand between your bodies, touching yourself to his pace.

He holds his breath, mesmerized by your movements. You're everything, and he can't keep his eyes off of you. Your cunt hugging his fingers, leaking into his open palm as you grind your hips to meet him, your fingers flicking at your gorgeous bud with urgency.

All the while, you scramble to moan his name, to beg him not to stop, to plea for him to fuck you just like this until you fucking pass out.

You cum with a loud cry, all over his hand, all over his perfectly made bed and clean sheets, and he already wants you to do it again and you haven't even stopped shaking from the first wave of your orgasm.

Your legs close around his arm, tightly locking him in place where he can only curl his fingers into your soft walls to help you ride out your high.

He stares with wide eyes as you slump back against the mattress, chest heaving, blissed out of your mind. And you don’t hate him. And you didn’t run. And he will never let you go now.

You release his hand soon enough, collecting yourself.

Feeling strength come back to your legs, you prop yourself up, pushing Levi under you with ease only explained by his utter willingness to let you take whatever you want from him.

Sweet surrender. Your hands are back on his skin, lips tickling their way between his chest and to his stomach, kissing your way above the hem of his underwear. He finds the part of his brain that yells at him to be careful, and he crushes it.

You strip him fully bare now, anticipation building up once again.

You want to eat him alive, hooking his leg over your shoulder and biting the inside of his thighs, soaking in his shivers and the frantic rush of his hand to cover his mouth.

Your eyes are purely dark, and you're still smiling at him. In a way that makes Levi’s heart race. Adrenaline courses through him, it feels similar to how it is when he's out on missions, focused, on edge and patiently waiting for the creatures to launch at him at any moment.

Is comparing you to a titan truly what his brain is doing right now?

No…not in that sense. He feels like he's being hunted, looked at like he's just a piece of meat hanging on a stick, being circled around for the sole amusement of the beasts.

You nibble at his skin again, jerking his attention down at you.

“This okay?”

Levi wants to crawl in a hole and die out of embarrassment, your face inches away from his pussy.

He hasn't been this turned on in his life.

“‘Vi?” you lean your cheek on his thigh, nuzzling against it.

“Yes.”

And then you're wrapping your arms around his muscley legs, flatting your tongue against him and swiping in one well swoop before he hears you humming approvingly.

“Must you be so shameless” You nose at his clit, ignoring his comment. He smells divine. The taste that lingers on your tongue compels you to dive in again for more.

At first, it doesn't feel like much, barely there friction that only tickled him ever so often. You take your time with him, peering up occasionally as you proudly swallow him down. Your chin and nose were a mess already.

Once you made sure that every part of him was licked clean, you finally closed your lips over his engorged clit. It laid heavy on your tongue, and as you sucked your cheeks in, Levi found your hands and pulled them over his stomach so that he could hold them to ground himself.

“Fuck…hng. Listen I-” You swirl him inside your mouth, pulling off with a pop so that you can tongue at his slit where fresh arousal seeps into your tastebuds. His eyes roll to the back of his skull and the vibrations of your humms drive him even more insane.

“My Walls, wait a second!” it feels amazing. He hates being greedy like this. He doesn’t want to ruin anything. But he needs to feel you.

He has no idea how. He needs more and closer.

How did he live without your touch before this?

“Come up.”

“Bossy…”

You listen, crawling up to him.

“Need more baby?”

“Shut up.”

“What is it then?”

You’re so mean. You should give mercy for his poor, old man's heart.

“Here…follow what I do.” Ordering him around is an ego boost. Finally, there’s something you’re better at than him(future will show that that won’t last long).

You push one of your legs under his, lifting your other one so that he can position himself. As he’s doing that, you take his other leg and you place it on your shoulder swiftly, hugging it to your chest before you let your full weight press against him.

“This better?” you rock your hips languidly, waiting for his reaction.

“Fuck, okay…yeah…it's. Yeah.” He props himself up on his elbows, angling himself a little better.

You watch mesmerized between your bodies, the slow glides of your drooling folds, the shy bumps of your clits against one another.

It takes a while for the friction to build up, a few minutes until your movements sync up, the up and down motion of your hips timing perfectly with each other.

Levi’s hair is damp with sweat, sticking to his forehead, eyelashes fluttering while he struggles to keep his eyes open. He wants to learn, wants to lead the pace next time, make you feel good and spoil you. He needs to remember every little thing about you, what makes you tick, what drives you insane.

He balances on one arm, his other supporting the fluent rolls of your hips with firm pressure on your thigh.

The dim lighting accentuates his build. The pale, jagged scars scattered across his body make him all the more beautiful to look at. They show his strength, endurance, and ferocity…and this same body that has been fighting to survive for most of its life is writhing under you, trusting you to handle it with care.

The hand he holds you with has many small cuts, they're impossible to count, whereas the pads of his fingers are rough, toughened up from holding the blades so often.

When you pay closer attention to his legs, there are strips of skin where hair doesn't grow anymore. You recognize the placement of the gear straps easily. Many soldiers share the same markings, but his are especially attractive.

Is that even a thing that can be considered particularly attractive? Lack of hair in weird places?

Doesn't really matter because apparently, if it’s on Levi, it's sinfully hot.

You shift your attention back to his face. His eyes are dimmed and dark, the blueish hue barely there. His mouth is slacked open, eyebrows slightly furrowed.

You can feel hot blood rushing through your body, tips of your fingers tingly. You hold your breath and you flex the muscles of your stomach, the coil in your gut threatening to snap oh so so soon.

“A little more, please… fuck I'm right there ‘Vi. You with me?”

“Hmhm…yeah. I think so. yeah? Shit.”

He overthinks it for a second.

Will he look weird? Will his face be pleasant to look at? Nobody ever saw him like this, he doubts anyone else ever will. If he could stuff a pillow into his face he would.

“ ‘Vi, gonna make me cum again, holy shit.”

Oh.

That's what matters the most.

You feeling good. Because of him. With him?

“I've got you, yeah, c’mon, cum for me gorgeous…” he blushes at his own words, heisting the pace to help you both get there.

Soon everything goes still, gasps and grunts bouncing off the walls as you both release, one following after the other. Before you squeeze your eyes shut, you latch onto the image of him, captivated and awestruck by his expression.

Your second orgasm is mindnumbing, leaving your brain a mush.

You clutch at his leg and he squeezes yours as you both slow down to a stop. The sheets beneath you are soaked through, slightly uncomfortable as you both scramble and stretch your sore limbs.

You lay onto Levi's chest and he wraps you in his arms, tucking his chin at the top of your head. His heartbeat slowly becomes regular, and your breath evens out.

He feels like he needs to say something. Is he supposed to say anything after?

He decides that he won't ruin the silence, no matter how badly he wants to sabotage the tender moment.

You stroke his side with your thumb, going in tiny circles, and he replies by lightly scratching your back, falling into a steady rhythm.

Thirty-four years ago, Kuchel Ackerman had a daughter.

One more person knows and the world didn't end.

Levi sleeps through the whole night and in the morning, he doesn't run.

Phew, I wrote this in one sitting and even now I have 20 more ideas for this plot. Old man pussy is a prison.

I would just like to clarify that reader isn't 'oblivious' to the existence of trans people by choice. It was mainly because I tried to keep to the canon timeframe, and in like 800's I don't know if such a thing would exist in the first place? It's definitely a very peculiar and specific situation that I had in mind aswell.

All in all, thank you for making it this far! Mwah💕

tip-yar : Ko-Fi 💕

commission info

#aot #aot x you #levi x reader #levi ackerman x reader #levi ackerman #levi aot #snk #snk levi #levi x reader smut #aot commissions #aot smut #levi ackerman x reader smut

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its-vannah · 1 year

Text

Snow on the Beach | Jacaerys x Reader

A/N: I'm so sorry it took so long for me to get this posted. I've been crazy busy with finals and had to work on it rather slowly every night. Nonetheless, I hope you guys enjoy.

Warnings: Arranged marriage, fear of flying, your mother is anything but kind

Midnights Masterlist

Life is emotionally abusive

When your mother had informed you of your bethrothal to Jacaerys Velaryon, you felt as if the weight of Westeros had been placed on your shoulders.

Not only would you one day be Queen of the seven, but you'd be expected to conceieve and birth an heir. You would have had to do that no matter who you married, but being wed to the future King put even more pressure on you.

As you slid into your nightgown, preparing to get some sleep, something caught your eye outside the window.

I saw flecks of what could've been lights

It was dark, and you could barely see it, but in the light cast from the moon, you could make out wings flapping in the distance. It was too big to be a bird. It was a dragon.

The dragon could have been on its own, you figured. But it was far more likely that a Targaryen or a Velaryon was controlling the beast.

Passing by unbeknownst to me

You racked through your brain, thinking of all the dragon riders in the realm. Queen Rhaenyra, Aegon, Aemond, Helaena, Daemon, Rhaenys, Jacaerys—Jacerys.

But it might just have been you

A small part of you hoped that it was him, flying over the home you had grown up in your whole life. But as the dragon faded into the distance, you shook your head of your thoughts, settling into bed.

-------------------------------

When you met Jacaerys formally a few days later, you had expected for things to go smoothly. But that was anything but the case.

And time can't stop me quite like you did

He had insisted on taking you on a dragon ride—and you were utterly terrified. Your mother urged you to follow after him, but you stopped in your tracks, fear striking every bone in your body.

And it's fine to fake it 'til you make it

Climbing on the back of his dragon, who's name you couldn't even remember in your stress, your chest began to heave. But you forced a smile on your face, for no one but your mother. You may not have been happy, but you had to look the part.

I'm unglued, thanks to you

You weren't even a foot off the ground before you were begging for Jacaerys to land, tears streaming down your face.

As soon as you stepped off the beast, you fell to your knees, hands placed firmly on the ground.

And my flight was awful, thanks for asking

Jacaerys slid off of his dragon, kneeling beside you. He gently put a hand to your back, "Are you alright?"

Blurring out my periphery

You shook your head, your vision blurring from the tears in your eyes, uttering, "No."

Your mother briskly walked towards you, coming to a halt at your hunched over body. Nudging you with her foot, she spoke through gritted teeth, "Get up."

Shuffling to your feet, you wiped away your tears with the back of your hand, apologizing, "I'm sorry, mother."

She turned her back on you, just as she had done all those years ago after the accident. This time, you weren't sure there was any coming back.

-------------------------------

That night, you climbed into bed, falling back onto the soft mattress. Your head hit the pillow and you released the sigh you had been holding for the majority of the day.

You had disappointed your mother, again. But it was nothing new, really. Ever since the accident, her life had been nothing but a constant disappointment.

One night a few moons ago

You thought about the day your life changed forever. You were sitting in the highest tower of your castle with your brother, who was brushing up on his sword fighting technique. The open windows let a soft breeze in that caused your hair to float around your head as you worked on your embroidery.

This scene feels like what I once saw on a screen

You watched as your brother worked on perfecting each swing, stabbing at his imaginary victim. That's when it happened. That's when the world stopped.

Just as you were about to recall the events that had shaped you into who you were today, there was a knock at your balcony door.

I can't speak afraid to jinx it

Jumping at the sound, you grabbed the candlestick from your bedside, taking a few steps towards your balcony. You were aware that danger could be lurking on the other side, but curiosity had always gotten the better of you.

Taking a sharp breath, you pushed the door back quickly, hoping to knock whoever found themself outside your chambers off their feet. But they had already moved. He had already moved. Jacaerys had already moved.

You rushed to cover yourself with your free hand. Dressed in your night clothes, it was hardly appropriate for a man to see you in this state until after marriage.

A sour expression crossed your face, "My Lord, it's late. What could you possibly want or need at this hour?"

You wanting me tonight feels impossible

"You."

His answer was short and simple—at least that's what you assumed.

I don't even dare to wish it

Shaking your head, you waved your candlestick around, almost blowing out the light, "I'll have you know that I'm a woman of honor. Your requests—"

But Jacerys pressed his hand to your wrist, "You misunderstand me, my lady. I wish to take you for a ride."

In that moment, his dragon rose from it's position below your balcony, it's wings flapping rhythmically.

"I don't like heights, my prince. I'm sorry, I can't."

Jacerys bowed his head, "Your father told me what happened to your brother. I'm sorry for your loss."

Your heart dropped, "Then you understand why I can't go."

"That I don't."

"He fell from the highest tower in the palace. I watched him fall to his death and I couldn't do anything about it. I watched him die. I won't watch another suffer the same fate. I can't."

Jacaerys moved his hand to side of your arm, "No one's going to fall. I've been dragon riding ever since I was a boy. And I'll be holding onto you the whole time."

"Jacaerys—"

"I may not have known your brother, but I do know he was a boy of honor. It's tradition for my family to ride dragons. As your betrothed, I want to share that with you," He explained, "This could help both of us, my lady."

You hesitated. But you knew he wasn't going to bscj down, "If I tell you to bring me back down, you'll do it in an instant?"

"In a heartbeat."

You took in a deep breath, clenching your fists to feel anything other than feer.

Jacaerys extended his hand for you to take, and once your fingers were entwined with his, he led you to the edge of the balcony.

Looking up at him through your brows, you pulled back slightly, "Isn't there a safer way to mount?"

He shook his head, "Trust me. I won't let anything bad happen to you."

With that, Jacaerys climbed over your balcony railing, jumping until he landed on its back.

He steadied himself, holding out his arms, "My lady..."

You had gripped the railing so tightly that your knuckles were now ten shades lighter, trembling at the thought of being on dragon back.

"A promise is a promise," Jacaerys reminded you, "As soon as you want to return, you have my word."

Nodding, you climbed over the railing, clinging onto it once you reached the other side.

"I'll catch you, I promise."

You would've climbed back over if your hand hadn't slipped. Once your hand slipped, your foot slid off the edge. Caught by surprise, it wasn't long before you were falling.

But it's coming down, no sound, it's all around

But you weren't falling for long.

Before you could even scream for help, you felt strong arms around your back and thighs.

But your eyes are flying saucers from another planet

Jacaerys's big, brown eyes met yours in that moment, and you nearly felt yourself swoon. Half of you wanted to slap him for urging you to go on a ride at this hour, knowing your fears, but you couldn't harbor any anger towards him—not with the way he was looking at you.

He set you down gently, moving the stray strands of hair that had fallen over your face out of the way, "Are you alright, my lady?"

You nodded, "Yes, my prince. I'm fine—"

Are we falling like snow at the beach?

Then the ground began to shift beneath you. It was in that moment that you realized you weren't on solid ground—you were standing on the back of a dragon.

Clinging to your betrothed, he ushered you to sit down before him.

He sat down first, patting the spot in front of him. Your nails dug into his shoulders as you positioned yourself on the dragon.

Jacaerys took your hands in his, motioning for you to take the chains in either hand.

My smile is like I won a contest

When you felt his hands on yours, you felt something deep within your chest. Your heart fluttered, your stomach turned, and your face flushed at the contact. You couldn't help but smile, no matter how much you tried to hide it.

When the dragon began to move, you leaned back into his chest, your whole body trembling.

He took it slow, moving the reigns every few seconds to steer, his hands still clasped over yours.

Flying in a dream, stars by the pocketful

Gazing down at your now small home, you released the breath you had been holding. The view was beautiful.

Weird but fucking beautiful

Soon after, you calmed your nerves, your grip of the chains loosening. Crossing over a vast lake, you could see the moon's reflection in the still water.

I've never seen someone live from within

For the majority of your life, you had taken all of this for granted. Now, it was like you were truly living for the first time.

I searched aurora borealis green

You gazed up at the stars above, the barely noticeable clouds that hung low over you, casting a slight fog. While your head was reclined to view the stars, it meant Jacaerys's shoulder.

And to hide that would be so dishonest

Instead of pulling away, you let yourself melt into the touch.

Like snow on the beach (are we in a dream?)

After gliding across the sky for what didn't feel long enough, Jacaerys returned you to your balcony.

The two of you rose from your spots, and he gently lifted you up so you could lift yourself onto the edge.

Climbing back over the railing, you smiled down at him.

He remained on the back of his dragon, gazing up at you, "I trust that you enjoyed your ride?"

Nodding, you sighed, "I just admit that it was rather nice, my prince."

"I'm glad, my lady," He said, returning your smile.

You cleared your throat, "Do you come this way often, by chance?"

"Same time tomorrow?"

Grateful you didn't have to ask the question you had longed for, your smile grew, "I'd love nothing more."

"Then it's a date."

Can this be a real thing? Can it?

Your face flushed, and you attempted to hide your embarassment, "Yes, I believe it is."

It was silent for a moment before you spoke, "And Jacaerys? Thank you. For tonight, I mean."

Now I'm All For You like Janet

"Please, call me Jace, my lady."

'Til you do, 'til it's true

"Then call me Y/N."

Like snow on the beach (you want me)

Your faces were inches away, with him now standing on the edge of the railing as you had.

Pressing a kiss to his cheek, you smiled, "Goodnight, Jace."

With that, he settled back down on his dragon, grinning from ear to ear, "Goodnight, Y/N."

And it's like snow at the beach

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deepouterspacecandy · 2 months

Text

If you thought I was a mush-heart before, hold my soggy Kleenex. I'm calling this one "A Mother's Heirloom" and while I definitely teared up while writing it, I hope this glimpse into what Abby's life could've been makes you smile. Hot damn, does she ever love you.

Now I can get serious about answering the many amazing messages and asks you guys have sent me. You incredible humans make me smile so big. Thank you so much for the love.

Your heart has belonged to Abby Anderson ever since that momentous night at eleven years old when the two of you boldly stole a Humvee from the motor pool. With Abby in control of the pedals and you at the wheel, the two of you found yourselves in deep trouble with her dad.

After the dust settled, and once you had toiled away, sweating off every last ounce of your debt, he pledged to never let either of you live it down.

True to his word, he has remained steadfast for over a decade.

It is clear as day where Abby gets her discipline from.

“Well, if it isn’t the Steering Savant and the Pedal Prodigy, blessing me with their presence!” Jerry exclaims.

“Seriously, Dad, that happened so long ago,” Abby groans. “Will you ever quit?”

“Nope,” he beams, his wild grey hair sticking out in all directions. “You girls are lucky I’m around, otherwise you’d be out on your butts.”

“You say that every time,” Abby says, chuckling. “The Fireflies don’t boot people out for stuff like that.”

“Abs, engaging in grand theft auto is a significant criminal offense,” he says, combing back the greasy strands of his disheveled hair with his hands. “I totally had to play the doctor card to keep a roof over your heads.”

“Boy, you’re really nailing the whole mad scientist thing!” you interrupt.

As Abby collapses onto the worn leather couch in his office, she helps you double down on her father.

“You totally look like you stepped out of a movie,” Abby giggles.

His fingers continually get snagged in the frizzy tangles, so he opts to leave it alone. But not before affectionately teasing his daughter for her unabashed nerdiness.

“What do you know about movies, huh?” Jerry asks. “You’ve been a bookworm since you were three.”

“Whoa, I’m a huge movie buff,” Abby says. As she defends herself, her hands become animated, punctuating her words with sharp gestures. “Caught one last night for your information, and I didn’t even nod off!”

“She’s so full of it,” you say. In response to her playful and piercing glare, you sarcastically raise your hands in surrender. “Seriously, she asked me what just happened like a million times.”

Jerry’s fond smile between you and Abby is so heartwarming that it feels like a tender hug for your soul.

From the moment you arrived at the gates, alone and shivering, with dirt caking your body and grime under your nails, he has consistently shown you kindness.

When you started having nightmares and had some trouble sleeping, it was he who proposed that you share a room with Abby to ease your fears, making the two of you inseparable.

A pair of bookends holding each other up.

When you turned thirteen and started feeling anxious about your sexuality, he was there pouring tea and lending a supportive ear, patiently guiding you through the process of self-acceptance and discovering the importance of embracing your identity.

Despite his extensive medical knowledge, he never treated you like a patient during the many calamities he helped you navigate over the years; to him, you were always family.

And he never missed a beat when something was going on with his family.

Although he’d been thoroughly exploring the realms of science, leaving no stone unturned in his pursuit of a cure for Cordyceps for as long as you can remember, nothing got by him. Despite the visible stress reflected in the deep lines on his forehead, he never complained or took either of you for granted.

“To what do I owe the pleasure of your visit?” he asks, raising a tired eyebrow. “You are way past the point of needing my permission to stay up late.”

From the wastebasket, Abby playfully tosses a crumpled piece of paper at his head, aiming with impressive precision. Her words hang trembling in the air, laden with weight.

“There’s something you need to know,” Abby says.

With a sigh of relief, Jerry shuts the massive medical textbook and pushes it aside.

“You both good?” he asks, his natural inclination to assess for any harm emerging. “What’s up?”

“Well, it’s just that we wanted to tell you ourselves instead of you finding out through the grapevine,” you explain.

“The gossip can get a bit crazy,” Abby says with a nod. “And we’ve put a ton of thought into this, just so you know.”

Before you can spiral further into your worries, Jerry signals for everyone to stop by holding up a gracious hand.

“Are you finally spilling the beans about what’s going on between the two of you?” he asks.

Beginning at her freckled forehead and travelling down to her neck, Abby’s face becomes a vivid shade of red under her father’s knowing gaze. With a smirk on his face, Jerry long-sufferingly waits for her brain to catch up, amusement dancing across his weathered features.

There is a quiver in her voice as she speaks, filled with a powerful undercurrent of conviction.

“We’ve been more than friends for a while now,” Abby confesses. The moment her glossy blue eyes connect with yours across the room, time comes to a standstill. “I really love her dad—I’m in love with her.”

“I know you are, sweetheart,” he says.

After you both exit his office, emotions running high from diving into nostalgia over the many joyful years you’ve spent together, he reaches into his desk drawer and retrieves a small wooden box.

Nestled within is a handwritten note, delicately wrapped around the wedding ring that Jerry had custom designed and placed on the finger of Abby’s late mother.

She wore it until the day she quietly slipped into her soft white wings and well before he was ready to say goodbye.

For our little girl when she meets the one who makes her as happy as you made me.

With a careful hand, he holds the ring closer to the tarnished lamp on his desk, marvelling at how the diamond still catches the light.

“Won’t be long, now, Darling,” Jerry murmurs.

A soothing presence envelops him, reminiscent of a gentle, familiar kiss on his shoulder.

#abby the last of us #abby tlou #abby x fem!reader #abby x reader #abby x you #tlou abby #lesbian

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stxrvel · 1 year

Text

greatest fear (3)

series summary: you woke up from a long coma with no memory of a part of your life only to be told by your teammates that you're married to the man you hated seven years ago. even though that seemed to be the only problem, as time goes on you're realizing there's a lot more history and mystery behind the accident that left you in medical care for months. blackouts, more memory loss, mistrust and a strange man who seems to be connected to everything. every day it gets harder to trust anyone around you, but you won't stop until you can finally uncover the truth behind the accident.

chapter summary: bucky has to learn to deal with the fact that things don't always work out the way we want them to.

pairing: bucky barnes x f!reader

words: +5k i think

warnings: none? angst, that's for sure

note: hello!!! i think it's been almost a month? but better late than never. this didn't came out like i wanted at all, but i'm still gonna publish it bc i don't dislike it that much. i probably could've approach the subject way better. maybe i'll edit this someday. anyway, i do hope you all like this and give it some love 💜 i'll try to keep it up to get you guys pt 4 sooner, but i don't promise anything. feedback is always appreciate!! thank u all!!

masterlist | next | series masterlist

Everyone already knew Bucky's greatest fear. He had spent years being untouchable, seemingly the only person on the team who wasn't afraid of anything, not even living on the edge. They had spent years getting used to seeing the inscrutable face of an emotionless man. And they'd spent years thinking that was never going to change. To be honest, Bucky believed the same thing. As he resumed his “normal”, ordinary life, he felt that there was nothing he hadn't experienced before and that, because of that, there was nothing that could really hurt him. So why bother worrying about anything, why be afraid in the first place?

Bucky used to be an unflappable person. Even after meeting you, after confessing his feelings for you, after knowing that you might be a weak spot, Bucky still thought he wasn't afraid of anything. What's more, with you by his side he considered himself an invincible person. Unreachable. The people around him saw him as so sure of himself that they never once doubted that he could be the most fearless man in the world.

Until you had the accident.

Bucky began to see the world in dark colors. He had been afraid, yes, he had said so many times. But he was also struck by how close he had come to going insane. The people around him had ceased to view him with respect, but with concern. He had never allowed himself to be seen that way, because even if he had ever felt in a similar way, he had never been as strong as he was that time. He was at a point of vulnerability that was almost incomparable to anything that had happened in his life before.

The level of despair and stress he was dealing with from the moment he found out about your accident until months later when he knew how to manage his emotions, he couldn't quantify it in a rational way.

And the people around him were sympathetic, but he still hated that he had let himself be seen that way. The quivering mess he'd become since he found out about it haunted him like a symphony echoing in his head on the highest note. Sometimes it wouldn't let him think, wouldn't let him remember, wouldn't let him live. Even being there in a room with you, there was nothing but a din of incongruous notes crashing against each other, without any harmony, without any order.

At other times there was silence. A deafening silence sometimes accompanied by a beeping that increased as the minutes progressed. The voices were echoes and the images were blurred figures in the distance. There was nothing else in his head but space to process the silence.

Everyone knew Bucky's biggest fear, and it had caused him some long-term problems that he still didn't know how to handle. Since everyone knew that, he was no longer the fearless Bucky, the most daring person. Now he seemed to be perceived as a walking time bomb, even though he seemed to be the one who handled the situation the best… well, not from the beginning, but he learned to cope.

He hated that that stage of vulnerability had become so embedded in the memories of others that it was now the only thing they evoked when they thought of him. He hated that consideration. As much as he wanted and appreciated the support, he hated when it came from regret. From condescension. Of the wary glances. Like tiptoeing around him in fear that he would explode at any moment.

That was how Bucky felt at that moment. With everyone watching him around him, thinking that at any moment he would freak out and start screaming at each of them.

“She's okay now,” Bucky heard Natasha's voice flooding the room that had become the recipient of an imperturbably uncomfortable silence. Her voice was neutral, calm and patient, like the others', even though their faces showed incomparable chagrin.

Bucky let out a long sigh and let his gaze fall on any object in that room.

The rain was lashing hard against the city that day. The drops bounced off the large window and fell swiftly towards the end of their ephemeral life where gravity used to drag them down. The cold crept into the building through every crevice it could find, as if seeking any refuge from itself within the warmth of the human structure.

Bucky didn't plan to ever feel fear again.

He was constantly surrounded by worry, but tried to reassure himself that you were in a safe place surrounded by people who were willing to protect you. Until Steve appeared running down the hallway of the rooms shouting his name, and then yours, and then named Dr. Cho. A peculiar combination of words but they were enough to push him over the edge.

He had never run so fast from one end of the building to the other since that fateful day.

Memories slipped as fast in front of his eyes as raindrops did that day, swept away by the restlessness of his mind surrounding almost possible catastrophic scenario. Bucky knew he shouldn't do that, but telling him not to was like going against nature.

The worst part was that he couldn't see you as soon as he got to the medical wing of the Complex. He could barely make you out through the glass doors.

And so hours went by.

Bucky stayed in the next room waiting for some news, when one by one the others began to arrive.

Near midnight Natasha appeared and finally gave him good news.

“They stabilized her and are now waiting for the drugs to take effect.”

Bucky nodded at her words and the vibe in the room finally changed. Sighs of relief and comforting words leapt into full view, but Natasha didn't take her eyes off Bucky.

“What happened to her?” he finally dared to ask, though he knew the answer the moment the redhead entered the room.

“They still don't know. One moment they thought it was cardiac arrest, then a stroke, then she had seizures. But finally she was just… still. At some point she regained consciousness and said her whole body hurt. The doctor gave her some medication and now she sleeps. All her vitals are fine, like nothing ever happened.”

Bucky was not thinking clearly. He had understood every single word that came out of Natasha's mouth, but he couldn't pin his thoughts down to a single idea. His mind was conjecturing at an incomprehensible speed and it was causing him severe irritability that he couldn't come up with a solution.

“Did she say anything else?”

“No.”

“Okay. Thank you.”

It had been six hours when you woke up. Bucky had settled into a chair in the corner of the room, not too far or too close to where you were lying, and was trying to get some sleep, but worry wouldn't leave him. Steve accompanied him for a while before he had to leave on a mission, and Natasha stopped by at some point to drop off something to eat before leaving, just like Steve, on a mission. After that, he must have spent about two hours trying to fall asleep, but it seemed an impossible task. The constant sound of the machine monitoring your heart kept him unconsciously aware of his surroundings. And, even if there were no external stimuli to keep him awake, his mind would have done so. The fear, the panic, the hopelessness…. He almost feared that you would never even wake up again.

His body almost reacted to your movements because he opened his eyes just as you were beginning to move on the gurney.

“Y/N?”

Rising from the chair, he began to slowly approach you, even though his body was begging him to run to your side and wrap you in his arms. He watched you move one of your arms to cover your eyes for a moment, before focusing your gaze on his.

Your frown did not bring him good news.

“Where am I?”

Finally reaching where you were, Bucky pressed the button on the side of the gurney to call the doctor, his heart heavy and aching. That those were the first words out of your mouth should have made him understand what had happened, and in a matter of seconds the limbs of his body shook with a shudder. But it couldn't be like that, he couldn't go through that again. Bucky was not in the capacity to go through that again.

He was promptly convinced otherwise and focused on your confused expression.

“You're at the Avengers Complex in Washington.”

“What do I do…?”

“You were in an accident. You lost consciousness for several hours.”

The dazed expression on your face didn't change and Bucky's nerves ascended with each passing second. The words came out of his mouth as an automatic response and your face contracted taking in the reality, but you didn't seem to make peace with understanding. The few things Bucky had told you seemed to only worsen your state of confusion.

“Do you know what day it is?”

When you shook your head, Bucky felt a cold chill run through him as if he were standing in the middle of a heavy snowfall. The fear he had deprived himself of and had almost prayed he would never feel again was making its way through his mind and body, and if he didn't stay calm things were not going to go well.

“It's November fourth of the year 2023. Do you remember anything about this year?”

You shook your head again. Your expression was starting to change from confusion to fear and Bucky knew he had to do something soon to keep you from being consumed by the feeling.

“No… No, I don't understand… what's going on. It's like my head is totally black. There's no-I don't see…”

Your distressed gaze met Bucky's and your bewilderment bordering on concern caused a pang in his heart. He felt like he could die of a broken heart at that moment. He didn't know what the look on his face was, but he knew it must not be as neutral as he wanted it to be because somehow he had to let out the feeling that was choking him at that moment. It seemed like that look Bucky had on his face gave your tears permission to start bulging in your eyes.

“I can't remember anything. At all,” you sobbed. “I don't know what I'm doing here. I don't remember what happened. I don't remember who-”

Bucky watched your eyes move around the room and noticed how you clenched your hands on the sheet. Your breathing becoming ragged confirmed to him that you were about to have a panic attack. Of all the times he had done it before, he automatically reached out to you and took your hands in his. He swallowed the feeling that wanted to overpower him and the hopelessness in a second. He couldn't leave you in that situation at that moment. Your glassy, big eyes turned to his.

“You're okay right now, okay?” with your eyes locked on his, still breathing erratically and your heart about to burst, you nodded slightly. “Okay, then breathe with me and then we'll talk again.”

Bucky took a deep breath, lifting his shoulders and not taking his eyes off yours to urge you to mimic him. He stayed in that position until you did the same, taking a shaky breath and tightening your fingers around his hand. The tears wouldn't stop coming and the sight almost made him cower in the corner of his head to cry with you.

“Now let the air out of your mouth slowly.”

Exemplifying your words, Bucky let the air out and you mimicked him next, still not letting go of the trembling.

Bucky took another deep breath and you followed suit, expelling the air once he did.

Like that, again and again.

And again.

Until you could only stare into his blue eyes without a single thought in your head.

“Feeling better?”

You nodded without a word.

Bucky could notice your lowered shoulders and the few tears on your red cheeks, so he ventured to let go of your hands. He didn't let it go unnoticed the way your eyes parted from his, after so long, to observe the place where your hands were joined. You intertwined your own hands and let out a sigh. Bucky had to swallow again the feeling and the urge to move closer. It made him angry inside because he thought he had already learned how to handle the distance and because he didn't think he would have to go through such a scenario again, but life is full of surprises.

“I understand that you're scared and worried, okay? But I want you to try to stay calm for a while while Dr. Cho asks you some questions and runs some tests, are you okay with that?”

Bucky watched as you shook your head as he pointed behind him to where there were two women standing in the door frame who he had heard enter a few minutes ago, but didn't acknowledge their arrival until you were calm and willing. He was dying to know what had been going through your head as you cocked it and frowned slightly watching the women.

“Yes,” you barely mumbled, but Bucky could hear you perfectly. He could hear you even in any kind of crowd.

With a heaviness in his soul, Bucky got up from the gurney and gave Dr. Cho and the nurse, Christina, room to pass.

He took a few more steps away, until he was near the door, and it weighed on him to see how your eyes did not leave his figure. He didn't know whether to leave or to stay there waiting for them to finish. He didn't want to leave you alone, that was clear, but the pressure in his chest grew stronger with each passing second, and he wasn't sure he could stay any longer if you kept looking at him like that. Like he was the only person in the room, like he was the only person who mattered, like he was someone you remembered… but you don't. You don't remember him. Not anymore.

Bucky found himself wandering around the Complex until he decided to settle on the rooftop. He thought that spending that time alone wouldn't do him much good because his mind would replay over and over again the moment when you had that frightened expression on your face again, and then he wouldn't have time to try to calm down and regain his composure. And he did. For a few minutes.

Bucky let his mind snap. The tension building up on his shoulders was too much, and if he didn't let it out, he feared it would explode inside him. He was thankful to be alone at that moment because he didn't like to cry around people. Not just crying, but expressing too much in general.

At that moment he was crying not only for his suffering, but for yours. Because more than not wanting to go through it himself, he had to think about what you must be feeling and thinking, being in a completely foreign environment and with strangers proclaiming to know you more than you know yourself. Bucky hated the thought of you having to go through that again, even if you didn't remember the first time. Bucky was crying on that rooftop because once again life had robbed you of the well-being you deserved, because you could no longer spend a moment fully aware of yourself.

More than his pain, Bucky ached to think of yours.

And what could he do about it? Nothing. Just like last time.

He didn't know how long he'd been there, arms resting on the edge of the rooftop overlooking the green field around Complex. He only knew it was around noon when Tony Stark opened the door behind him.

“You must be hungry,” was the first thing the man behind him said, trying to lighten the tense mood that must have been surrounding Bucky at that moment. But no, he didn't have time to think about mundane things.

“Not really.”

A silence settled and he knew Tony must be weighing whether or not it had been a good idea to show up there knowing he was alone. Bucky really didn't mean to be hostile, he just felt too much anger and rage against life and the universe inside his body that he wanted to get out somehow. It wasn't the right thing to do, of course, and he was trying to control himself, but he didn't deny that it would be difficult.

“I'll leave it here, anyway. Just in case.”

Bucky caught the sound of the bag and then the sound of Tony's shoes that weren't moving away but coming closer.

“Thanks.”

“It's the least I could do.”

“And you didn't have to. I was almost going down anyway.”

Tony snorted, moving closer to the wall where Bucky was leaning.

“Surely you don't even know what time it is.”

“Surely,” Bucky agreed, nodding.

Both men took a detailed look at the trees stretching a long distance away in an oddly comfortable silence.

“Did Dr. Cho say anything?”

Tony turned to watch him, and stood for a moment pondering what to say.

“Everything's fine. She ran several tests, but everything came back fine.”

“Everything's fine except her memories are gone again.”

“She thinks it may be some kind of condition left in her brain after the accident.”

“It's been over a year now, Tony.”

“I know. They're exploring every alternative.”

Bucky nodded, getting a bitter feeling in his mouth. He knew he should be grateful you were alive, but damn, did you have to go through all that?

“How's she doing?”

“She's looking good. She hit it off real quick with Christina and was eating with Clint when I came out.”

“And she's eating well?”

“Yeah, the usual.”

Bucky nodded again. Maybe he should come back, stay with you for a while and talk about some things; anything. But every time he thought about going back he felt that tug in his chest that made him recoil from any progress. He didn't want the situation to overcome him, but he was losing the battle.

“Barnes, I wanted to tell you-”

“Tony, it's not necessary.”

“It is, especially at this time.”

“No, it's not,” Bucky spat, shifting his body to stare at the mechanic. “Especially right now, it's not.”

The man pursed his lips and Bucky turned away to look at the lunch that should have been inside the white bag on the table.

“I just wanted to say I'm sorry. For everything. That was it.”

Bucky turned to look at the man who had settled in the same way, both of them with their backs to the green field. Bucky sighed, and knowing Tony he knew he couldn't leave without having his conversation. But maybe that would do him good. It had been months since he'd last talked to anyone about that situation.

“There was no way to foresee it, you know that.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Bucky watched the man shake his head as he did every time someone gave him a similar comment. He just wouldn't accept it.

“I could have been more vigilant, you know? I've spent my life trying to learn from my mistakes, trying to take care of the people in my charge, trying to do my best to keep everyone safe. I still don't understand how… How I could have made that mistake.”

“We were dealing with something bigger than ourselves. I think, even if you had gone all out, there couldn't have been any other ending. And believe me when I tell you I'm the person who would have wanted another ending.”

Bucky crossed his arms over his chest with his eyes on the rooftop floor. His mind roamed over those memories he tried not to return to under any circumstances, and he allowed it only because he couldn't deal with that situation any other way.

“I had to have tried.”

“Tony, I know you did your best. And I also know that after everything that happened you asked FRIDAY a thousand times if there would have been another chance to have avoided what happened. Did you have an answer?”

Tony didn't answer.

“Then it doesn't make sense for you to blame yourself for something you simply couldn't have controlled. I guess that's the way things were supposed to be.”

“It's unfair.”

“Life isn't fair to anyone.”

Bucky stepped away from the wall and reached over to take the bag Tony had brought him. “Thanks for this.”

And without further ado, he walked into the building once more.

From outside, Bucky watched you talking animatedly with Clint and Carol. Dr. Cho had told him that, although she had not yet been able to find the reason why you had lost your memories again, you were in perfect health. Bucky wanted to punch a wall, but settled for thanking her for looking out for you.

The day had gotten extremely long and he had only spent a quarter of it with you. It was already dusk and he had barely mustered the strength to come see you. And seeing you there, so giggly and happy, made him question whether he should come in and ruin all the fun. He knew his face was a jumble of a hundred emotions that he still couldn't quite control, because even seeing you caused him a sharp pain in his heart that he couldn't tolerate. So he didn't know if going in looking like that was the best choice.

But before he could weigh it further, your gaze met his through the masses of air, and his breath hitched for a few seconds.

The look of recognition you gave him brought a sense of warmth to his body. It was like wiping a damp cloth over his bruised heart. Bucky knew you didn't remember him, but that in such a short time you could give him that kind of look meant too much to him. Your face looked much more serene than the last time you had seen each other, and you no longer had so many wires around your body embedded in your skin, from what he could see from a distance.

Maybe it was indeed safe for him to enter.

Act normal, act normal…

“Hi, Bucky!” you greeted him effusively.

Bucky felt his body faint. Halfway through he planted his feet on the ground and watched the other two with you hold back smiles. Well, Clint wasn't so sneaky.

“How's it goig Bucky? Did you enjoy lunch? It was courtesy of Tony for everyone.”

“Yeah,” he replied dryly. He knew Clint was trying to keep his spirits up, but he didn't feel moodily ready to keep talking to other people, just to share a pleasant silence with you.

“Y/N ordered ravioli,” Carol added to the conversation, turning to look at your red face. “And she also ordered your lunch.”

Bucky frowned.

“I'm glad you liked it,” you mumbled in his direction, barely audible but crystal clear to him. His heart flipped, and he hated that his mind was trying to remind him of where he stood. He wanted a small moment of ignorance.

He didn't know what to say other than thank you, so he just stood there in front of them in a very awkward position.

“All right, Y/N, our fun is over.”

“You're leaving already?”

Bucky detailed you looking at Clint as he and Carol stretched to leave. He mentally wondered if it bothered you to be left alone with his presence, if you didn't want them to leave and leave you with him. If you saw him as an annoying, grumpy figure. He wondered if the others had said something to you about him that suddenly made you see him in a less sympathetic or friendly light. He wondered if-

“We have a mission to attend, and we're very punctual,” Carol's voice broke in on Bucky's train of thought.

“As soon as we get back we'll be here. We have a lot of other things to talk about.”

“Okay, have a good one!”

Bucky watched you shake your hand in farewell to the two people who were leaving the room and was surprised at how much your attitude had changed since he saw you after you woke up. But hey, it had been a while since then. Maybe you had been able to make peace with what had happened by now, and they must have told you everything?

“How are you?” Bucky found himself suddenly asking.

“I'm feeling fine. Besides the obvious, I'm not in any more pain. Dr. Cho told me I'll probably be discharged tomorrow.”

“That's good,” the man mused. “And you want to talk? About what happened.”

You made a thoughtful grimace that Bucky found quite tender, but his mind conjured up the times when you'd made similar grimaces in the past and he'd planted a kiss on your mouth. It wasn't a good time to reminisce about things like that, and the twinge in his heart proved him right.

“Not really,” you replied. “Why don't we talk about you?”

“About me?”

“Yes.”

“And what things do you want to talk about me?”

“Well, I was told that our relationship was different from the friendship I had with everyone else, so we can start there.”

“You want to know what kind of relationship we had?”

“Mm-hm.”

“We were married.”

Your eyes expanded in surprise, as if you expected any answer but that one. Which was strange for Bucky because he couldn't conceive of what other kind of relationship you could have besides a friendship.

“Married?”

“Yes.”

“But I don't have any rings,” you mumbled as you held up both hands to look at your fingers, then held them out to him, as if to let him see you weren't lying.

“You don't use it anymore.”

“Why?”

“Well…” Bucky didn't know how far to go with his historical account because he didn't know how much Dr. Cho or the others had told you and he didn't want to saturate you with information either. “What do you know about what happened?”

You took a deep breath and brought your hands to your lap as if you had been waiting for that question. It probably was.

“Dr. Cho told me that I had an accident over a year ago due to which I was in a coma and lost my memory. That a couple of months after being in the hospital I was discharged and came to live here. And that almost two days ago I had some kind of incident that caused me to lose my memory again.”

Bucky was taken aback by the matter-of-fact way you told him all that. The only thing that was going around in his mind was how before you didn't like to mention the subject at all and used to avoid it any way you could unless it was strictly necessary. At that moment it was as if you were telling someone else's story and not your own, because not a hint of emotion could be seen on your face.

“Then why don't I wear the ring?”

Bucky held his frown. This was definitely almost that much of a sharp change to the last few times he interacted with you.

“Hum… You've had it removed since the accident and I gave it to you after some time in the hospital, but I told you that you didn't have to wear it if you didn't want to.”

“Oh, I understand. So I decided not to wear it. And where is it?”

“I don't know. You kept it. Maybe it's somewhere in your room.”

“Right. I'll go look for it when I get back.”

Bucky nodded at your words not really knowing what to say. He didn't know how to act in reason to your behavior. Well, it should be good that it didn't seem to affect you as hard as it did before, but he found it hard to believe that it didn't affect you at all. Could it be that it really was?

He couldn't know for sure, but the calm expression on your face was about to convince him completely. The way you looked like you didn't have a care in the world made him feel much better, and he would definitely battle to make it last much longer.

“Besides that, is there anything else you want to tell me?”

Too many things.

“No.”

You let out a short laugh that bloomed in Bucky's chest.

“Then our relationship boils down to: we were married, and that's it.”

The man shrugged, not really having a clue what else to say about it.

At his gesture, you exhaled with a determined look.

“We were close?”

“Yes.”

“Did we make jokes?”

“Yes. You mostly.”

“It definitely had to be that way. Did we go out on dates often?”

“Yes.”

“Did we argue?”

“Not a lot.”

“Okay. Did we buy each other gifts?”

“Yeah.”

“Aw. Did we live together?”

“Sure.”

“Did we sleep in the same bed?”

“Of course.”

Bucky frowned as you stood for a few seconds in silence, just watching his face.

“We had children?”

The man went blank for a few seconds, only looking into your eyes. He definitely wasn't expecting that question, but it was something that had been on his mind a lot before.

“No.”

“Ah. So, did we travel a lot?”

“Yes, we traveled quite a bit.”

“Excellent!” you smiled genuinely at him, with that kind of smile he loved and that since the accident he had almost never seen. If he had seen it, it hadn't been directed at him. “Then we were a good match.”

Bucky smiled. It was almost an instinct. His mind flashed back to the one memory that at the time didn't cause him sadness: sometime, someday, you had told him that some questions had to be answered in a positive way to know if they had fulfilled their purpose of being a perfect couple. He didn't remember if it was those same questions, but he could make the connection to that memory he had of you at the time. Then, for a second, he allowed himself to enjoy the present. No worries, no sadness. You were alive right there in front of him, in an excellent state of health and, it seemed, a good state of mind. Beyond that, what could he ask for? All that was left for him to do was to make the most of every moment he had.

“Yes, we were a good couple.”

--------

A/N

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traumxrei-archive · 2 years

Note

Ok! I've got it! I've decided that I'd like to request Jamil for #5! 😤 I am looking forward to reading all of these!!!! -Jamil Lover anon

【 danse macabre (a dance with death) 】

prompt #5: It’s time to fight an overblotted person and if he don’t tell them something now, he might not live to tell them later

gender neutral! prefect, includes overblot spoilers for book 5, 600 followers event (closed)

author's note: HELLO JAMIL LOVER ANON !! so sorry that it took this long for me to put this out hhh i wanted to wait for book 5 to finish before finally publishing this,,,,truthfully it's been sitting half-finished for a long while before i finally finished it today ^^ i hope you enjoy it nonetheless ^^

[ or read it on ao3 (coming soon) ]

Blot.

Jamil knew the touch of blot more intimately than others. He had felt it upon his own skin, myriads of black ink webbing around his body; giving way for his anger and resentment to burst forth. He remembered the monster that loomed over him, one borne of greed that would take and take and take until he was left an empty shell with no magic left to give.

Now there was no denying that Jamil saw the signs. The furrow in Vil's brow that never seemed to go away. The tick of irritation in his jaw whenever the word "beautiful" was uttered towards his rival. The venom dripping from his mouth as he exchanged pleasantries with the RSA student— who really genuinely thought they were friends.

It was pitiful; almost akin to seeing a mirror of himself just months ago. Struggling to walk the line of right and wrong. Struggling to hold in all the deeply seeded emotions. Struggling to breathe correctly without feeling suffocated.

So when he saw Kalim running for the dressing rooms, he made his move and just prayed that nothing too bad would happen. Especially since the Prefect wouldn't be able to protect themself from any of Vil's curses.

Snake Whisper proved to be useful once again, and that Neige LeBlanche kid? Even if he was a pretty face, his magical abilities didn't hold a candle to anyone from NRC he met so far. It was too easy to manipulate him into gathering the crowd, easier still to shout of Neige performing outside and to convince the first years of the necessary actions to be taken.

Jamil got on top of the magic carpet, speeding into the hallway. An instinctive fear washed over him as he felt a strong pulse of magic close to where he knew everyone would be.

Purple fog slowly rolled out of the hallway, and Jamil could see four figures standing in front of dressing rooms, but he was already too late. Whatever Rook and Kalim had said, it only seemed to quicken the effects of blot that had already taken root somewhere deep inside of the third year.

Jamil watched as that inky blackness seemed to drip out of Vil, enveloping him like a cape, golden feather protruding from his head as he laughed; frantic and freed. This was worse that he could've ever expected.

"Hop on!" He yelled, grabbing Grim by the scruff as the others clambered onto the carpet. He went as fast as he could, away from the stinging dizziness of the fog and into the coliseum's vast center.

His three passengers were still coughing as they got off the magic carpet. Jamil rummaged through his pockets, taking out some simple all-cures he had made.

"Kalim!" He tossed two at his ward and Rook, before approaching the Prefect and Grim, who somehow looked worse than ever. "Drink these. They're all-cures and should get rid of the poison's effects temporarily."

The Prefect smiled; a shadow of their usual smile, but they thanked him nonetheless, "Thanks, Jamil. I knew Vil disliked Neige, but...it seemed that his dislike ran a lot deeper than I expected."

"Yes, well," Jamil pulled them up to their feet. "We never know what a person is going through after all." Good, the color was returning to their face. Even Grim looked more like himself when he complained about how bitter the potion was.

"We have to evacua— Eh? All the people are gone?" Kalim tilted his head and Jamil resisted the urge to roll his eyes.

"Just how many years have I followed you around?" Jamil wrung out his hands, feeling a slight headache as he kept up his unique magic's effects. "I had everyone evacuated with the help of the first years."

As if on cue, the three first years made their way back, voicing their concerns of a purple fog around the coliseum. Jamil cursed under his breath. He knew that the stretch of power between him and a third-year student would've been different, but to think Vil was capable of trapping them so quickly—!

A loud boom sounded before chunks of rock came flying out from the hallway where Vil was left. It seemed that he wouldn't be going down without a fight.

"The hell's happenin'?" Epel shouted as the ground shook, stones cracking under the sheer pressure of Vil's magic.

"Save the explanations for later!"Jamil shouted, tightening his grip on the Prefect's wrist. "First, let's dodge his attacks!"

It was fitting that he said that, because right after, Vil launched a large orb of magic right at them. Jamil jumped to the right, dragging the Prefect with him. The resounding boom of the attack left a crater in the ground, scattering dust and rocks into the air as if it was nothing.

He scrambled to get behind a bigger chunk of debris, wincing at the scrapes he got as he sat up, "Hey, are you okay?"

"'M fine," They said, the dust already caking their clothes. "I should've said something earlier..."

"You couldn't have avoided this outcome," Jamil said cautiously, peeking over the rock to see the others frantically dodging Vil's attacks. "Now, please look at me."

The Prefect kept their eyes closed for a moment, "If I do look at you, please don't use your unique magic on me."

"Prefe—"

"I can't just...run away while you guys are forced to fight." Jamil felt a rise of searing anger at the base of his throat. How could they be so stupidly unaware? Even if they were there, there wasn't much they could do to help considering their severe lack of magic.

Then he remembered the stubborn set of their eyes as they fought against him, not once backing down from his spells nor the hypnotized students flocking around them. Even if the students from Octavinelle were dubious at best, they had stuck by them throughout the whole of the overblot. And he realized then and there that was nothing that could convince them to do otherwise for this overblot, especially not when their closest friends were involved.

"You..." Jamil pressed a hand to his brow. "I won't use my magic on you. Instead, you promise to stick close to me so I can at least protect y—"

There was a loud crash as magic collided with magic, and he could see Rook's light magic tangling with the darkness of Vil's tainted spells. Jamil dragged himself behind one of the stone pillars, breathing out harshly as he faced them.

They were looking at him now; properly meeting his eyes in a show of trust that somehow made Jamil's heart ache. And he faintly wondered if he would have another chance like this. What if this battle were to be his last? Could he really let them go without at least...saying something?

"...Prefect, I..." Jamil for once, was at a loss for words. What do you say to someone who mattered? Someone who mattered so much that it even hurt to think of being without them.

What would you say to someone who you might be seeing for the last time?

"I..."

The words wouldn't come. He was stupid to think that they would come easily, especially after he spent so long denying it himself. He met their eyes once more, and he faintly wondered how he looked to them. Was it pathetic, to hide away like this when everyone else was out there fighting?

"Jamil," His eyes met theirs. "You're...shaking."

He...was? Him? He brought a hand to his face, and found that yes, he was shaking. The grip on his sleeve tightened just a little bit.

"Are you exerting yourself too much?" Their voice continued. "You're still using your magic on Neige. And..."

There was a hand covering his, and when he looked up there was this gut-wrenching smile on their face, "I know. You don't have to say it here."

Jamil frowned, "But—"

"We won't die," The way they said it was so firm. Like they had utmost confidence in their words and their words only. "You can tell me after, I'll...I'll pretend I didn't know."

His throat burned as he swallowed, "I just...don't think I can leave without saying it. I like you," Jamil shook his head, holding onto their hand lightly. "No, it's more than that, I don't want you to get hurt. I don't want to lose you."

"I won't get hurt," There it was. That conviction once again. "You promised that you'd protect me. So let's go." They were right. He knew they were and yet he couldn't help but want to hold on to this just a little longer. Just for a little while.

"Okay," He said, drawing in a deep breath. "Let's beat some sense back into Vil-senpai. And we'll talk again."

"Right," They nodded, taking his hand and pulling them both into the fray of battle. Jamil pulled out his magic pen, immediately putting up a barrier as Vil launched another attack.

"Oi! What took you!?" Ace asked as he dodged more rubble.

"It seems trying to convince this one to leave is an impossible task," Jamil said, hoping that he sounded more calm than he was.

"Of course! My henchman's not the type to leave people behind!" Grim said, clinging onto the Prefect like a leech.

"Let's get Vil-senpai back," They said with a squeeze to his hand. "And after we'll have a grand afterparty, and we'll make him treat us."

"I second that!" Kalim said, looking as bright as ever even with the current situation. "Let's host it at the practice room!" Jamil inwardly sighed, knowing that the responsibility for cleaning up would somewhat fall onto him.

He felt lighter, even as he let go of their hand to take a more offensive stance, "Remember your promise."

"Yessir, I'll stick to you like glue."

"This isn't the time for..." Jamil had to turn his head to hide his smile. "Nevermind. Let's just get this over with."

He set his sights towards the blot-riddled Vil.

Blot.

Jamil knew the touch of blot more intimately than others. He would never let it happen again. He wouldn't let this overblot end everything. Not when he had something that he chose to protect. And especially not when he finally had feelings that were finally his own.

thank you for reading this...kind of fluff, kind of angsty jamil fic !! i hope you enjoyed, and if you'd like to see more, go on to my masterlists :DD

#/trau writes #/trau fics #jamil viper *sobs*#twisted wonderland #jamil viper #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #jamil viper x reader #jamil x reader #twst fanfic #twisted wonderland headcanons

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yanderes-galore · 10 months

Note

May I ask for a romantic tfa swindle with a human oneshot? I absolutely love transformers x human!

This is going to be based on one of the lines in my Swindle concept :) I hope you enjoy! Using the design of TFA, doesn't actually take place in a futuristic time period.

I could've taken this a lot of ways but this is what came to mind first, sorry if it was poorly executed-

Out of Gas

Yandere! TFA! Swindle with Human! Darling Short

Pairing: Romantic

Possible Trigger Warnings: Gender-Neutral Darling, Stalking, Threats, Manipulation, Kidnapping, Implied forced relationship, Transformer/Human pairing, Murder.

How long were you on the road? By the time you left your home in your car it was daylight, wasn't it? Now the sun was setting... your heart kept hammering in your chest like a rabbit's kick.

You wondered if you were still being followed? That greenish vehicle with the purple windows was still following you. You first encountered it circling your home hours ago, then you thought it was following your every move-

You had no idea what they wanted from you! Were you targeted by something? Either way, your instinct was just to drive.

Drive until you can get someone to help you.

As a result you had no idea how long you were driving. You were scared to get out of the car. All you wanted to do was drive until they lost interest... or ran out of gas.

You tried to slow your breathing, looking into your rear mirror. Nothing was there anymore but that still didn't calm you. That car was still out there.

Your grip on your steering wheel doesn't relent as you look at your gas gauge. Your heart sinks when you realize it's near empty. Speaking of running out of gas... you sigh.

Your next stop was a gas station where you could hopefully get help, rest, and relieve yourself of this issue. You bite your lip in thought before executing your plan. Using the fact your stalker has parted from you to your advantage, you look go to the closest gas station.

It's relatively quiet with very few cars in the parking lot. You quickly park your car and tap away at the pump. Your eyes dart to the road periodically to scan for purple windows and new headlights.

Nothing.

Once you were done you park your car and quickly head inside. You make your way to the front counter and motion for the cashiers attention. They catch your worried face.

"Can I help you?" They ask.

"Someone's following me, they've been doing so all day. I need to call the cops."

"Sure, sure... here, I'll get you the phone."

The wait is an agonizing few seconds before you're passed a phone. You focus on typing the emergency number, barely hearing the heavy footsteps as you answered the phone and gave your details. Until they got close enough to shake you.

"Hellooo~ Anybody in there?"

Glowing purple eyes, large ones, peer through the glass of the station. Oh you couldn't believe your eyes... no one in the store could. A large robot scanned the store.

Then those eyes landed on you.

"Oh there you are, doll! Gave up on our game of chase? Ran out of gas? Poor you... now you're sheltering with all those humans."

You stand still, paralyzed with fear.

"How cute..." The... robot (?) purrs. "But you're coming with me still."

The cashier gives you a fearful look. The cops were on the way, but what could they do against this? His colors were very similar to the car...

Was he...?

"Now humans... I have a deal for you." The purple con starts. "Give me that human right there..." He points to you. "and no one gets hurt, okay?"

You feel eyes staring into you... you feel your skin crawl. Did it just turn everyone against you? Could you hold out?

"Doll..." The con drawls. "Won't you come out? I promise I'll spare their lives if you just come with me...."

Fearful silence.

"Do you think I'm bluffing?" He pulls a large laser canon and points it at the building. "I'm fully capable of danger, dear...."

"Who even are you!?" You ask, still unable to move.

"Call me Swindle, doll... Sorry I never told you. Hard to do when I have to be in alt mode all time...."

"You've... been the one following me-"

Swindle is clearly impatient and vents, tempted to just smash the glass.

"Of course! I thought you'd be a great partner for me. It was just so hard to talk to you with all your paranoia! Now... come out, will you?"

"Partner?"

"Oh, you humans have so many questions.... Yes, partner! You are quite the cute little human, you know that, doll? This may sound... sudden to you, but I've picked you to travel with me! If you just come with me... I won't hurt any of these humans! I'll just acquire you and we'll leave."

Swindle sees your face of confusion and realizes he's only going to hear questions. He just wasn't sure how to explain this to you. How does he when he's a Cybertronian whose fallen for a human? How does he exhibit the internal conflict you create within him to the point he wants to take you away?

You don't.

You simply take what you want.

A robotic hand crashes through the gas station. Screams fill the air, yours being the loudest when you feel the cold appendage wrap around you. Swindle ignores it, simply picking you up as if you weigh nothing before glancing around the area.

The Decepticon scoffs, running away from the scene before aiming his laser cannon. You look horrified at his actions... get used to it, doll. This is punishment.

The sound of an explosion nearly bursts your ear drums, the sound of ringing blocking your hearing as Swindle watches the carnage he's caused. He's grinning. No evidence.

"It's what happens when you don't hear an offer out, doll..." The con chimes, purple eyes flicking over you. You can't hear him... you only stare. Swindle then gives a closed eye grin before opening a drawer on his chest. "Now I think it's time I claim the merchandise, right?"

Your fear rises when he hovers you over it. It's... hard to see what's inside. Swindle gives you one last look... one of triumph... before letting go.

"I'll let you out later, okay, partner?"

#yandere transformers #yandere transformers animated #yandere tfa swindle

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kengan-daddies · 7 months

Text

My Byzantine Romance : Ohma Tokita X (F) Reader

Anime : Kengan Ashura Character : Ohma Tokita Warnings : Mention of illegal activities

Chapter 1, Chapter 2

My Byzantine Romance : Ohma Tokita X (F) Reader

It's been a few months, since the incident, You've been living a less promising life than before, but you were fine with it, you had real freedom. Freedom to do whatever you want. You've dyed your hair, burned your clothes, bought a new phone, and with proper networking, have gotten yourself a new name. What they do with your government, you didn't care, that life was behind you now, who you were before died along with your family that day.

You've been living on ends meet, paycheck to paycheck, meal to meal, living in your small, crummy apartment, it wasn't an ideal place, but you had to start somewhere. That guy from all those nights ago never left your mind after that, he was still pretty heavy on your thoughts, he was different, he was the definition of free. Bound to no laws, no fears, no responsibilities, he was his own self-made man... but you never saw him again after that night. You did, however, see Mr. Yamashita quite often. He was a sweet older man, 56 years old and still pushing.

He was the one who helped you get your own apartment, a job, and some form of income to help out, you owed him your life. You would visit him from time to time. You'd cook for him, help him clean, give him company. You could've lived with him, but you didn't want to be a burden, he did let you know that his doors were always open to you... However, he did speak of a new strange friend he met, around the same time he met you, Ohma, he calls him. Ohma Tokita... You had a suspicion that it was the guy from so many nights ago... You were hung up on him, not really knowing why... Perhaps because he was the first human you ever seen with real freedom.

Today was like any other day, you were over at Mr. Yamashita's place, you've been spending more time over at his place recently, and you had your own place, but you've grown used to living with a family... You were begging to think about taking him up on his offer, he did have one more spare bedroom left... But that was a last resort method. You were cleaning the kitchen, wiping down counters, mopping the floor, and washing dishes. It's been pretty quiet, Mr. Yamashita was at work, you had spent the night before, and you decided to clean up some before you headed out for the day.

You looked over at the clock. "4:50 pm... Mr. Yamashita should be home soon... I should stay long enough to say goodbye at least." You spoke aloud to yourself as you stared at the clock for a moment before you walked into the living room. You sighed as you saw three small boxes. One held your clean clothes, one held dirty clothes and one held your hygiene products. They stayed here at Mr. Yamashita's place, just in case you came by unplanned, you already had things for yourself here. You walked over to the couch, and plopped down, giving a tired sigh as you did.

You ran your hands down your face as you groaned loudly. "UGH!!! I HAVE WORK TODAY!!!! NOOOOOOOO!!!" You groaned in despair, you honestly hated your job, but then again most people did. Your arms fell to your sides, landing on the couch with a dull thump, you sat there for a few minutes, deep in thought, when the sound of keys unlocking the door caught your attention. You looked over, and jumped like a dog, excited to see Mr. Yamashita. He walked in, looking down as he shuffled in quietly. He looked up and smiled once he saw you. "Oh, (Y/n)!! I'm happy to see you're still here!! I... actually wanted to speak with you about something." He said, as he closed the door behind him, looking back to lock the door before he looked back at you.

Your happy smile slightly faded, your mind slightly filling with dread. 'Is he ready to cut ties with me?... Did I do something wrong?... Maybe it's his job?... It's probably something good!!.' You thought, trying to keep the negative thoughts out with more logical reasoning. "I'll be leaving for a business trip, I'll be gone for a few weeks, but I'll be back soon. The door is always open to you, you can come by whenever you want, please make yourself at home, while I'm gone." He said. 'He sounds almost, guilty... but why? It was just a business trip.' You thought.

You gave him a smile. "Okay!! I'll be sure to keep the place clean, and I'll keep Kenzou fed too." You said with a playful eye roll. He chuckled at you as he walked in further, placing his briefcase down on the dining table. "I'm sure you will, Kenzou seems to love your cooking... I also left some money, in the top cabinet above the fridge, use it as you see fit." He said, his voice seemingly lowering as he looked down at his shoes. 'There's that guilty tone again...Is he in trouble?... Did he lose his job?... Does it have something to do with Ohma?' You thought, worry clouding your thoughts. Mr. Yamashita was like a father to you, the best father anyone could ever ask for actually. He was kind, understanding, and patient, who could ask for a better father figure? Kenzou was lucky. 'Ungreatful brat.' You thought bitterly.

Pushing that thought aside. "Mr. Yamashita... is this about Ohma?" You asked. His eyes seemed to widen as his mouth dropped. 'Yup... It's about Ohma.' You thought. "I know it's not my business to pry... but if he's... In trouble... I can help... I know some people who got ties." You offered, you didn't like seeing Mr. Yamashita in any kind of stress, and if Ohma was in trouble, you'd help. "Don't hesitate to tell me if something is wrong, I owe you so much, I'd be happy to help in any kind of way." You said, a sweet smile on your face, sealing the deal. He stared at you for a moment, before he sighed, he pulled out a chair from the dining table and he took a seat.

"Sit down, (Y/n)... There's something I have to tell you... and I probably should've told you when it first started." he said. You looked down at him in worry, as you pulled a chair out, sitting down as well...

... It was a lot to process... "Kengan Matches... Companies raging war through peaceful violence... You're a representative and you're in a huge debt... And Ohma is a fighter... The same guy I saw that night..." You said, summarizing everything that he told you... it was quite a lot, but you believed him... After what you went through that night, and seeing all the crazy shit you've seen so far... you'd almost believe anything at this point... Almost anything. "I wanna come." You suddenly said. His eyes widen. "Huh? You want to come?... But... "He trailed off, trying to find an excuse but nothing came up.

You nodded your head. "I want to tag along, I wanna meet Ohma, and I wanna be by your side, maybe having someone else who you know won't make It seem so big... and don't worry about my job, I hate it anyways." You said, answering most of his questions without actually answering his questions. He stared at you, seemingly in a daze, but his shoulders didn't look so heavy anymore, and he didn't look so glum either. You smiled. "I'm going to tag along, whether you want me to or not, besides, watching some fights sounds pretty exciting." You said.

He slowly smiled. "That's not a bad idea actually!! In fact, this is perfect!! You'll get to meet Ohma, I won't have to really go alone, and we'll get to watch some exciting matches!! OH YEAH!!" He said, getting more excited as he thought about it. You smiled at him, happy to see him back to his usual self, and also slightly excited about the whole ordeal, but you were really looking forward to meeting Ohma. He was like a form of inspiration, he was the reason as to why you just took a chance and went for it. You stood up from your chair, looking at Mr. Yamashita with excitement. "I'll pack light, and then we can head out whenever you want!! Since I already got some things here, I'll just pack up here." You explained.

Mr. Yamashita nodded his head as he too stood up from his seat. "I'll go let Kenzou know that I'll be leaving for a few weeks and that there's money here for him to use while we're gone... umm, I'll also let him know that you'll be busy for a while so you may not be around much." He said, you nodded in agreement, not really caring about what he told Kenzou. Kenzou was a bit of a dick, he didn't even try to come out of the room to speak to his father, he never said thank you's or anything, yet he wanted to live here rent-free... ugh.

You went over to your boxes while Mr. Yamashita went up the stairs. You crouched down, pulling out clean clothes and hygiene products that you'll be using... "I should probably get a garbage bag and just throw my things in there." You said aloud to yourself. "Nonsense, you can use some of my storage space in my suitcase, I don't carry much." Mr. Yamashita said as he walked down the stairs. You looked back at him, giving him a grateful smile. "Are you sure, I'd hate to be a burden." You said sheepishly. He fanned you off. "Oh hush, you're never a burden, in fact, you've made my life 10x more colorful and vibrant, these past few months have been the best!!" He said, a genuine smile on his face.

You wanted to tear up, but you held them back as you gave him a small smile instead. "Thank you, Mr. Yamashita." You said...

... You and Mr. Yamashita stood out in front of a large abandoned mansion, vines were growing up the walls, filling up the cracks, and the forest had grown around it, swallowing it up, hiding it from the public's eye. You stared on in amazement. "Wow... so Ohma lives here?" You asked. Mr. Yamashita nodded his head. "Yes, I honestly don't like it... I was planning on asking him if he'd want to move in with us... he could sleep on the couch." He said. You stared on before you looked over at Mr. Yamashita. "Why not just give him the other room, it's open." You asked with a shrug. Mr. Yamashita looked over at you.

"Because that's your room, (Y/n)." He said, his eyes shining in a way that left no room for questioning... you stared at him for a moment, before you smiled and you shrugged. "Guess I'll be moving in then." You said. He smiled as he nodded before he walked up to the door and he gave it three hard knocks. "OHMA!!! WE'RE HERE!!" He shouted, causing some birds to fly off in the distance.

You both stood there for a moment before Mr. Yamashita gave a defeated sigh. "Maybe... He's not here?" He said. You were about to suggest something but the door creaked open slowly, revealing a tall man. His hair was slightly wavy and shaggy and it stopped at his shoulders, he was wearing a nice fitted black shirt with a white acid tone, and his pants were fitted too, they looked like tights mixed with track pants, and his shoes were old, white tennies.

'HOLY FUCK!!! DAMN THIS GUY IS SEXY!!! WHY IS IT THAT WHENEVER I DON'T DRESS MY BEST I RUN INTO THE SEXIEST GUYS!? WHAT KIND OF LUCK IS THAT!? AND THAT BODY!!! HE COULD PUT ANY MAN TO SHAME!!!' You thought, your inner fangirl going crazy. You shoved your hands into your pockets, feelings of insecurity leaking in on you. 'I don't have the best experience with guys like this... I never get them, or they bully me... It was never in between.' You thought bitterly, thinking back to your school days.

He stared at you for a moment taking in your appearance. You weren't much, basic hair, baggy sweats, baggy shirt, baggy jacket, basic cheap but durable shoes. You were nothing, just ordinary. He looked back at Mr. Yamashita. "Who's this? Another opponent for me?" He asked. Mr. Yamashita chuckled nervously while you gawked at him. "No Ohma... This is (Y/n)... She'll be tagging along with us." He explained. You nodded your head. 'HOLY SHIT, EVEN HIS VOICE IS SEXY!!! IT'S LIKE THOSE GUYS FROM THOSE ANIMES!! A VOICE THAT CAN MAKE YOUR FUCKING OVARIES BUST!!!' You thought, your inner fan girl going crazy again.

He looked at you once more. "A girl?... Guess that explains the size." He said. Your brow twitched but you couldn't really be mad, wearing baggy clothes was to conceal your gender after all. Living in the slums has taught you, that women are immediate prey to men, and you didn't have enough confidence in your safety to dress the way you wanted. "I'm sure you're ready to go now, Ohma?" Mr. Yamashita asked. Ohma nodded. "Yeah, let's do this." He said, a vicious smirk coming over his face as he cracked his knuckles. You stared up at him, before you gave a small smile. 'He's crude, yet he's cool... I'm starting to like this guy for who he is.' You thought.

Mr. Yamashita nodded before he looked over at you, and you nodded in return. "Great, then let's go!! Kengan matches, here we come!!" He cheered as he led both you and Ohma back to the train station.

#kengan ashura #kengan ashura x reader #kengan ashura x y/n #kengan ashura fanfiction #ohma tokita #kengan ashura ohma #kengan ashura ohma tokita #kengan ashura tokita #tokita #tokita ohma #ohma tokita x reader #ohma tokita x y/n #ohma x reader #ohma x y/n #tokita x reader #tokita x y/n

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sephirothsplaything · 2 months

Text

DNA| Sec.80 high power chapter 5

A/N is it wrong to say that i think this may be the best chapter yet? idk

word count: 2840

Rhaella's nightdress was blackened by ash.

Indents were imprinted onto her knees from the sand she lay in. The air was chilly but Rhaella found that she was not shivering. The sky was almost unnaturally dark, moving in waves above her.

Standing up, her legs shook slightly. She was alone. Rhaella wandered, eventually ending back in the same spot she started.

“Is anyone there?” Rhaella called out to the void. There came no answer. The silence was suffocating her being.

Then, there was a deep rumble followed by a groan. Rhaella's head snapped in the direction of the sound, eyes widened in fear.

A fury of fire danced towards her rapidly, scorching the sand in its path. She tried to run away as fast as her legs would allow. But the swelter of the heat was much faster. Rhaella cried out as the flames lit up her body.

Her attempts at screaming were futile, the fire reaching up to her midriff. Unable to move, Rhaella dropped into the sand again.

Perhaps this was hell, one she was well deserving of. She thought of all the times she had mocked Rhaena for her prayers. Maybe this is where she belonged, to be swarmed by the very flames she's lusted after all this time.

Rhaella closed her eyes to accept her seemingly sealed fate. A whisper lingered in her ears.

“Dragons and death are one in the same, A dragon walks closely with death, death shall be its crown.”

The words previously uttered by Heleana rang all around her. Rhaella considered it was all feasible that she had upset a higher power.

“ I thought you would put up more of a fight.” A deep voice spoke. The orange flames that licked up her body transformed into a mesmerizing shade of green. It no longer pained her.

Rhaella looked up to the sound of the voice. An imposing figure loomed over her. It wore a long cloaked robe. Rhaella could've sworn she was looking the figure in the face, But there was no face to be seen.

“ No need to fight, I can recognize a dream,” Rhaella said. A false bravado laced her voice as she spoke. As if she wasn't screaming only moments ago.

If the figure had noticed her front, it did not comment. It raised a hand, scaly and black it was, undoubtedly inhumane. The flames that danced on her body disappeared instantly.

Rhaella attempted to stand up, but her knees buckled once again. She felt no fear of the figure. It sounded vaguely male, too androgynes to tell.

“Dreams are what made your family lineage kings.” The voice said. Its voice was all-consuming, luring her into a state of calm. She had no will to protest or deny.

No. Rhaella could not help it, as every word that tumbled out of her mouth was nothing but the pure truth.

“ I have no real dream, nor do I have any desire to be a king,” Rhaella admitted. The image of self-importance that she worked so hard to build for herself was falling apart in favor of this enthralling voice.

The figure crouched to her level, black-like ink lagged behind it. A cold hand reached for her face and Rhaella was slow to pull away. With a finger, it caught a warm, stray tear that fell from her eye.

Followed by another drop. And then another. Rhaella rubbed her eyes in surprise. She was crying. How long had it been since she'd done such a thing?

The figure gave a low hum. Maybe out of pity or simply to mock her. Rhaella was unsure.

“ You are empty, strange one...and I shall fill you.”

Rhaella didn't question how it knew the nickname she loathed. This was her dream after all. Wasn't it?

Against her better judgment, she gathered up the strength to ask a question.

“Please, who are you?” And no response came to satisfy.

“My lady?” A female voice cut through the fog.

“Lady Rhaella?” It said again. “ Please wake.”

Rhaella felt her body being softly shaken. Both of her violet eyes shot open, darting around the room.

There was no sand. No green fire. The figure had long vanished from her mind.

She was met with the face of Talya, the queen's handmaid. Rhaella sighed, slowly sitting up in her bed. It must've been early in the morning. Too early for anyone else to be awake.

Baela and Rhaena were in their respective beds, soft snores could be heard.

“What is the matter?” Rhaella asked.

“The queen wishes to see you at once,” Talya said, swiftly removing the sheets from her body. Rhaella's body shivered at the action.

“I'll wait outside for you.” Talya closed the door to the room.

Mind still hazy, Rhaella rose from bed. She sorted through her traveling trunk for something suitable. She settled on a dark blue dress with silver embellishments, sleeves puffed on each shoulder.

Rhaella took a moment to look down at her body. No burn marks or bruises could be seen on her brown skin, save for the bruise on her collarbone courtesy of Aemond.

“Fuck.” Rhaella muttered. She had misplaced her sense in that library, and she was paying for it. Tightening her corset, she made her way to a small mirror.

Rhaella undid the hair wrap keeping her hair. The silvery-white curls toppled to her back. She was not one for wearing her hair down, but she lacked the skill of braiding. Fiddling with the ringlets for a few minutes, she decided that it looked halfway decent.

Walking out into the hall, she found Talya waiting for her. Rhaella followed after her, trying to keep up with the handmaids' prompt movements.

The door was opened for her by a guard. There sat the queen at a table, breakfast laid out in front of her.

A little to the left of the queen Alicent, stood her sworn protector, Criston Cole. He bowed slightly to greet her. Rhaella did not offer him such acknowledgment back. Something about him irritated her immensely.

“Good morrow, your grace.” Rhaella offered up a shallow curtsey. Queen Alicent smiled warmly at her.

“Good morrow Rhaella, please, join me.” Queen Alicent said. Rhaella shuffled to the opposite chair, sitting. She glanced at a plate of deliciously stacked loaves of bread. Her stomach rumbled shamelessly.

“Go on love.” Alicent affirmed. Despite her hunger, Rhaella managed to remember her manners. She took a single slice for herself onto a plate.

Queen Alicent's hands were folded under her chin. Rhaella spread jam onto her bread simply. She was no fool. The queen did not summon her to breakfast.

Clearly, there was something she wanted.

“ It has been long since I've laid eyes on you, ten years or so?” The Queen commented casually.

Fine. If the queen wished to take her time, she would as well. Rhaella took a rather unladylike bite of her bread, taking time to thoroughly chew and swallow.

Rhaella glanced up at the queen, settling into a complete calm.

“ Not since Helaena's labors.” Rhaella finally responded.

The queen hummed thoughtfully. “ I'm sure you've been told before but you look just like your mother.”

Rhaella wanted to cringe. It was Baela that typically reminded people of their late mother. Yet, she swallowed her snark.

“ That's very kind , thank you,” Rhaella said.

Rhaella watched as Alicent meticulously sliced through a cut of meat as if it was suddenly much more important.

“You should know, I appreciate your kindness towards my children and your respect for me,” Alicent said.

It was hard to see where the queen was going with this statement. Rhaella settled on silence, lest her words be misconstrued.

“ I understand that you and Aemond were...particularly close back then,” Alicent said tentatively.

Rhaella's hands found their way to her lap. She knew full well what the queen was implying.

After all, it wasn't as if she was hiding the bruise. It was displayed for all to see.

Rhaella Targaryen, a virtuous girl she was.

“Well, we had much in common at that time, your grace, I imagine much has changed,” Rhaella said.

From that very moment, Rhaella decided that whatever the queen was fishing for, she wouldn't give.

“Yes I remember it quite well, he seemed to be taken with you.” Alicent said. Something was compromising in her voice.

Rhaella racked her brain for what to say.

“ As I recall, Aegon, Jace and Luke would jeer at him often, I suppose he had no choice but to follow me around,” Rhaella said.

The Queen Alicent's eyes flashed with hostility, but only for a moment.

Rhaella had made her opening. Now the Queen won't think her an idiot.

“Aemond has taken the dragon he's longed for, he works tirelessly, and yet..”

'The way it's been, and the way it always will be'

“ I know of you and Aemond's.. endeavor last night,” Alicent said, finally getting to the point.

The breakfast, the early morning. It had been designed to strike nervousness in Rhaella. Perhaps for her to admit to things that weren't true.

Unbeknownst to the queen, the prospect of this very situation caused Rhaella's typical boredom to be replaced by a buzzing excitement.

The Queen Alicent wanted to entrap her. Hold something over her head. That mouse of a handmaid that she keeps so close probably reported her state afterward.

Who knew a kiss could be so incredibly inconvenient?

Rhaella matched her body to the queen, body leaned forward, fingers interlocked with one another.

“ Have I done something wrong, your grace? Rhaella asked innocently. She could admit that her actions after the dinner were a little reckless, considering the circumstances, but surely she couldn't be punished for a harmless kiss?

“I venture that you were quite disheartened by your father's rejection of the marriage proposal,” Alicent said.

Rhaella's lips quirked up slightly. She wanted to laugh right in the face of the queen consort.

She wasn't so clear with herself regarding what she felt towards Aemond but one thing rang boldly in her mind.

There was no way in the seven hells she could ever marry a man like him.

“Is that why you've summoned me here?” Rhaella didn't bother to hide the contempt in her voice. Alicent had revealed her true nature and now so had she.

“ I'm not sure what you mean.” Alicent's eyes shifted to Criston Cole. He returned the stare.

“ You think me so naive that i'd lay on my back for you?” Rhaella spit out.

“ Watch your tone with her grace.” Criston Cole said sternly. Rhaella made a show of rolling her eyes. She knew as long as her father remained in the Red Keep, the queen's dog wouldn't dare to touch her.

“ As a woman, I'm concerned about what people in the realm will whisper about your maidenhood,” Alicent said earnestly. Her eyes flickered to the bruise that rested on Rhaella's collarbone.

If there was any respect Rhaella held for the queen, it had been torn into two.

“ You should place more concern onto what your eldest does in his free time, your grace,” Rhaella says. Standing up from her seat, she looked toward the queen pointedly.

“If you wish to know what really happened, perhaps. you should question your own son, instead of chasing falsehoods.

Rhaella turned to leave, but Criston Cole blocked her way. Rhaella was not foolish enough to shove past him. She opted to stare him down. There were no option to shrink away now.

“ She may go, Cole,” Alicent said, voice wavering. Reluctantly, Criston moved to the side to allow her passage.

Walking down the hallway once more, Rhaella sported a prideful smirk. Turning a corner, she was met with Otto Hightower and Aemond.

Unfortunately for her, the two were blocking her path.

“Lady Rhaella, where are you coming from?” Otto asked.

Rhaella was sure he already knew the answer. He probably knew what the queen had discussed with her.

“ The queen wished to speak to me, my lord,” Rhaella answered, trying to keep the venom out of her tone.

Aemond's body stiffened ever so slightly, still noticeable to Rhaella.

It was apparent that he had not been involved in whatever scheme was at play here.

That made Rhaella relax a little. Just a little.

“ I trust the conversation was pleasant?” Otto said. Rhaella's lips formed into a lofty grin. This old cunt would not spoil her fun.

“It was most entertaining ser,” Rhaella said. She noticed Otto's expression falter a little.

With a bow of his head, Otto walked off, leaving Rhaella to face the very object of her confusion.

“ What did my mother speak to you about?” Aemond asked.

“What do you think?” Rhaella said. Surely he couldn't have been this slow.

Aemond glanced at the bruise, eyes lighting up in amusement.

“ Have I gotten you into trouble?” Aemond's soft voice teased.

Rhaella rolled her eyes despite the fluttering she felt in her stomach.

“ I'm leaving today, I must get packed,” Rhaella said. Her attempts to walk away were halted by Aemond grabbing her arm and pulling her back.

“And you plan to just ignore the situation I take it?” Aemond questioned.

Rhaella sighed. There was too much consuming her mind at the moment to deal with this all. The dream on one hand and the queen on the other.

“I was wine-drunk, that's all there is to it,” Rhaella stated. A lie , she was not one to get drunk so easily.

Aemond hummed. Still gripping her arm which Rhaella allowed. The warmth of his hand caused her brain to fog.

“ I think I'd like to see you again,” Aemond said. His head tilted down to her slightly.

“Perhaps a time when you aren't...drunk,” Aemond said patronizingly

“When Princess Rhaenyra takes the throne, I'd expect you'd be seeing me often,” Rhaella said.

Aemond's hand slid up her arm, fingers tracing the bruise he'd left.

“Perhaps I'd want to see you before such a time,” Aemond said.

Rhaella allowed a soft smile to break through. One that she'd often give to him back when they were children. She took a step back from him. If Aemond thought a kiss was all it would take to entice her then he was sorely mistaken.

“Start by writing to me, you have much time to make up for,” Rhaella said.

“Goodbye cousin.” Rhaella dismissed herself from Aemond's presence.

Annoyingly, the warmth did not fade from her. It followed her back to the doors of her room.

As Rhaella docked the ship, she noticed Baela leaning over the railing, staring into the sea. Walking over to her sister, she too stared into the water.

As much as their mother was of fire, she adored the sea like no other.

Rhaella hated the water. It had taken her mother's coffin far away from her.

“ I apologize for the way I spoke to you.” Rhaella said. She was met with silence.

Baela was so stubborn.

“ I needlessly lied.” Rhaella added. Finally, Baela turned to her.

“ You were talking in your sleep,” Baela said.

Rhaella looked away from her sister. Her mind was met with images of the green fire, the feeling of a cold hand gathering her tears.

It made her shudder.

“ Just a nightmare,” Rhaella said. Baela's eyes softened, she too felt regretful over lashing out towards her sister.

“ You should know, I didn't mean any of what I said.” Baela said. Rhaella knew full well Baela had spoken out of anger, but she still felt there might have been a shred of honesty.

“ He spoke to me again this morning,” Rhaella admitted. Her nails scratched over the wood of the railing. She was about to burst from the emotions that swallowed her.

Baela glanced at her, curiosity peaked. “ Whatever about?”

Rhaella paused. Aemond had wanted to see her again. That was the truth. What scared her more was the fact she was finding that she too wished to see him.

Rhaella wanted him in her view at all times. She wanted them to speak at length about Old Valyria as they did when they were children. The desire to watch his reasoning fall apart whenever she spoke was overwhelming.

Control is nice, but now she required much more. Rhaella's eyebrows scrunched at the thought.

What was the more that she required?

“I told him to write to me,” Rhaella admitted. If she divulged the entirety of it, she'd be forcing herself to admit what she now knew to be true.

Baela brushed a lock of hair out of Rhaella's face. She wore an expression of sympathy that made Rhaella feel as though she missed some point.

“ Just..be careful with him alright?' Baela said. Rhaella watched as Jace and Luke spoke, rather expressively to one another. No doubt discussing last night's events at dinner.

“It is he who should be careful with me,” Rhaella said. There was no real conviction in the statement. In truth, she was terrified.

The feelings she had repressed for so long had begun to turn its ugly head.

#black oc #house of the dragon #daemon targaryen #baela targaryen #aemond x reader #black reader #rhaenyra targaryen #oc character #rhaena of pentos #aemond targaryen #hotd fanfic #hotd aemond #hotd #viserys i targaryen #alicent hightower #otto hightower

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silverstonesainz-archive · 2 years

Note

A. [safe] + Pierre Gasly pls! reminded me of the Japanese race :/

that man deserves so much love and hugs after that race. the japan race was such a mess. and also the prompt technically says that reader would be in the traumatic incident but i am reversing it.

✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿ ... ✿°•∘ɷ∘•°✿

prompt: forehead touches - [ SAFE ]: in an effort to prove to the sender that they’re safe after a particularly traumatic incident, the receiver gently rests their foreheads together in a gesture designed to be soothing and reassuring.

warning: i do talk about the start of the japan gp, and once again jules is mentioned.

the suzuka grand prix should've never started when it did. there should've been a delay, they should've assessed the spray from the formation lap, assessed the amount of standing water, listen to the drivers out on the grid when they were saying zero visibility into their radios.

and now two drivers have dnfed and a red flag has been called. you nibble on your finger, sitting back in your seat as you watch the live footage of the track. one by one, you hear and see cars pulling in to the pit lane, the teams rushing out to provide shade for their drivers as they wait for the word of when the race will restart.

it isn't long until pierre is also pulling in, quick to hop out of his car and stomp into the garage. his face is red, eyebrows tense and tightly knit.

"what the actual fuck was that? why was there a fucking tractor on the track while cars were still out there? have we not learned?"

"pierre, please. calm down." a female strategist says softly.

"calm down?! no i will not calm down! i couldn't see out there, i had some fucking board on my car that blocked my vision. what if i drove over standing water, what if spun out and i hit that stupid fucking tractor?! i could've fucking died. so no, i will not calm down!"

pierre is fuming, already walking in the direction of the pit wall. you grab his wrist, pulling him back.

"babe, you need to breathe before you walk over there. please." you whisper, squeezing him gently.

but he's stubborn as ever, face still beet red with rage. "no, i need to talk to them now."

he yanks himself from your grip, turning and walking away towards the engineers and his team principal who are seated on the opposite end of the pit lane. you watch his body, the way he moves as he assuredly repeats the same words he did just moments ago in the garage. he walks back not too long after, the same level of frustration on his face.

"un-fucking-believable." he mumbles going to the back of the garage and away from any and all cameras. you follow behind him, watching as he plops himself on a black foldable chair. "c'était si dangereux! je suis tellement en colère!" that was so dangerous. i'm so angry!

you nod, allowing your boyfriend to vent his frustrations. he sits in his chair, hands moving animatedly as he curses and yells and speaks angrily about the events that occurred on the track. the rage doesn't stay for long, and you watch as it turns into fear. he was no longer red, in fact the color was all but gone from his face. his leg bounces beneath him as he looks everywhere but at you.

"pierre..."

"we lost someone eight years ago, at this very track, for the same kind of stupidity. it was right there, chérie. it was right there, and i was so..."

he lowers his face into his palm, fingers rubbing his temples. you can hear his soft sniffles, the way his shoulders shake ever so slightly as he cries quietly. you frown, crouching in front of him as you lift his face to look up at you. your hands cup his cheeks, thumbs cleaning up the tears that have splashed on his cheeks.

"it should've never happened. it should've never been out there." he stammers.

"no, it shouldn't have." you agree, "it was dangerous and stupid."

"i'm so fucking angry and so..."

"scared. you're scared. i know that in all this anger, there's so much fear about what could've happened." pierre nods in agreement, tears still falling from his eyes. "its a fucked up situation, but baby you're safe. you're okay, everyone is okay."

your eyes search his eyes, hoping to find that maybe your words have calmed him in the slightest. you can still see the gears turning in his head, concocting nightmares of worst case scenarios.

"hey," you say softly, pulling him close enough so that his forehead rests on yours, thumbs rubbing the stubble-filled skin of his cheek. "don't let your mind go to those places, to all the what ifs."

he nods against you, leaning back so he can pull you onto his lap. he holds you, much like a child holding a teddy bear, with his head buried in your neck. your fingers massage his scalp, cheek resting at the top of his head. you whisper sweet nothings to him, reminding him that he's here, that he's safe, and that everything was going to be just fine.

a couple minutes pass before pierre removes his head from your neck, holding your jaw to give you a quick kiss. you rest his forehead against his, eyes boring into his vibrant blue ones.

"im so happy you're here. i don't think i'd be okay if you weren't."

you smile, kissing him once again. "i love you. i'm so happy you're safe and here with me."

"me too chérie, me too."

fluff party!

#lightsoutsainz fluff party #pierre gasly #pierre gasly x reader #pierre gasly imagine #pierre gasly fluff #pg10 drabble

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14dyh · 5 days

Text

Entry No. 2: A Nightmare on Camp Sina (Choice A)

Content warning: descriptions of body horror

A/N: I hear thee anons! Do you think you chose the right path? Enjoy the adventure ;)

═══ PREVIOUSLY ON YOUR WAY TO CAMP SINA ═══

Hange will likely tell you a strange story.

You were given a choice to either

a.) let them tell you that story or,

b.) ask them something else

⚠ YOU ARE IN CHOICE A. ⚠

Upon seeing your eagerness to hear the story, Hange became more enthused, even fully facing your way as they began to speak.

"Well, you see, the bus to Camp Sina has a rumor..." Hange tapped their fingers lightly on the seat. "Aside from the fact that Camp Sina has a reputation for hosting scary themes, an ongoing urban legend started about nine years ago."

Their brown eyes sparkled with brimming excitement as they continued, "The story goes like this: If you sleep facing the bus window and wake up in the same position, you will see a reflection beyond imagination. One that will rob you of your sleep forever

And once granted with sleep, it would be your last. You would be in a constant state of sleep, plagued with terrifying distorted images of your memories for eternity."

Hange observed your face as you took in the story before adding, "Sounds ridiculous, right? But usual campers cannot help but believe it when there are newspapers about strange sightings around the camp."

The bus turned left, astray from the two other buses in front.

"Newspapers, huh? It has been on the news?" you wondered. It sounds peculiar, given that you've never heard a word about Camp Sina. Not even from your friends and acquaintances who were avid searchers of new campsites to venture into. Camp Sina was a little old or too common, it seems.

"In a small publication paper, yes," Hange answered. "News about campers seeing things, some accidents too."

Hange began to recount incidents of campers claiming to have strange apparitions and reflections on the bus window. What they claimed to be shadows, even followed them back to the camp and never left since then.

"Reportedly," Hange butted their own story, punctuating the word. "They claim those stories to be true. But fear not, Y/N."

An easy smile appeared on their face as their knuckles knocked twice against the bus window. "Even if you slept facing the window, I'm blocking most of it from your sight so you're not in danger."

You chuckled at their playfulness and said, "Oh, don't you worry. I'm not scared."

Slowly, you shifted on your seat, head cushioned as your face turned toward them. Hange's face suffused with a mischievous joy, a lively glow capturing your eyes. Despite the murky blackness from the window beyond, you didn't mind drifting off to sleep facing Hange.

Their head turned lightly, observing your soft features indicating a step closer to slumber.

"Sleep well, Y/N. I'll handle anything that would try to peek over here," they pointed a thumb at the bus window and let out a soft chuckle. "Nothing would disturb you, I promise."

And as if given permission, you meandered through the land of sleep, the gentle chatter within the bus drifting into a hum.

You're safe here, you could've sworn you heard those words in Hange's voice, although there's no way to be sure.

"We're almost there, Y/N."

You stirred from your sleep, stretching an arm as one went to rub over your eye. Hange was facing the window, their whole body turned against you as if something of huge interest was outside the window.

"How long have I been asleep?" you yawned out, partly distracted by Hange's eagerness to peek outside, almost as if they wanted to jump out.

"Not even thirty minutes," they responded quickly as if their answers were programmed. Perhaps, they were too occupied with the sight outside, it was almost tempting to scoot closer and observe as well. "Most of you are still asleep. How funny."

Your eyes scanned over the bus, poking your head over or beside the seat to confirm their claim. No one else seems to be awake among the passengers except for you and Hange.

Hange kept looking outside the window, unmoving. The bus quieted, wrapping the atmosphere in an uncanny silence. There is something wrong.

Against the defeaning silence, you reached out for Hange's hand, saying their name without hearing your voice. But when they turn to face you, the fabric of your vision melts, morphing and twisting into deformed images. Hange's face swirled into a color, rapidly running and merging with their light yellow sleeve shirt. Their mouth moved once more before disappearing into a swirl of pink, "What's wrong, Y/N?"

A soundless scream formed in your mouth as your hand that had been holding the began merging, the colors morphing as if they possessed a life of their own. You stumbled out of your seat, frantic eyes scanning for the exit, only to be met by the twisted, eyeless faces of your fellow campers who seemed to be looking at you. And waiting for you to melt away with them.

Hange heard your whimper as you slept, shaking them out of their reverie and never-ending musings. Your brows creased, lips upturned in both fright and disgust.

"Y/N?" Hange took your trembling hands and began squeezing them tightly with theirs. You had to wake up.

You gasped audibly, as though one snatched from the water after nearly drowning. The other campers eyed your direction, while some were too busy hoisting up their bags as the bus neared Camp Sina.

In your panic-stricken state, Hange only held you tighter, their voice retrieving your attention.

"Y/N, are you all right?" Their questions varied to different concerned and intrigued tones as they rubbed on your back. Your agitated silence began to worry them. They squeezed your hands once more. "I'm here, Y/N."

"Right, yes. Thank you..." you mumbled, breath running short in your throat. You processed the nightmare that came alive in your head a few minutes ago. Features turned into mere pigments as if the fabric of your vision became soiled by its own colors.

Hange began helping you with your bags the moment the bus skidded to a stop.

"We're here, Y/N," they spoke, tapping your shoulder, an invitation to follow them as both of you descend the bus with other campers. You nodded and trailed behind, still slightly disconcerted the moment you set foot outside.

"Were you having a nightmare earlier?" Hange asked first thing after descending the vehicle with you. You watched the bus to Camp Sina roll off and vanish into the night, its vivid yellow color swallowed by the muted blues and greens of its surroundings.

"Yeah, I'm never sleeping in that damn bus again," you mumbled. Hange chuckled, arm brushing with yours as both your feet padded across the damp earth. Tall, shady trees surrounded Camp Sina, making the place cool enough despite the summer heat. A perfect place for obscure operations, your mind mused.

Lamps suffused the cabins with a yellowish glow, ruddy at a certain angle because of the brownish-red wood. After being given instructions by a counselor you see quite dimly, you and Hange proceeded to take a cabin near a large tree along with a few others.

"It always has an earthy smell in here," Hange muttered, flopping their bags on the foot of the bed with a soft thud. They drew the window open, running a finger outside the frame before turning to you with a smile.

"Moss," Hange showed you a finger dotted with pigments of green. "Plenty of that grew here. They love shady locations."

You stood beside them by the window, elbows resting on the frame as you looked yonder. Dark outlines of trees filled your vision, vaguely illuminated by weak light from the rows of cabins. Moss crawled along the expanse of the cabin wall, almost reaching the window frame.

"The moss adds a certain touch to the cabin," you observed.

"A sense of abandonment, perhaps? Or just an earthy touch," Hange responded, leaning by the wall with their arms crossed. They began to lower their voice the moment they saw fellow campers starting to settle for sleep on their respective beds.

"Would you be able to sleep tonight?" Hange's eyes traveled back to your face, studying your features to predict your response.

"At this point, I don't think I can," you mumbled, those visions worming itself back to your head. The ridiculous urban legend Hange told you earlier has resurfaced, convincing half of you that there must be some truth in it.

"Maybe you'd like a stroll outside to get your mind off that nightmare of yours," Hange offered, pushing the cabin door ajar. "There's this nice pond with a few frogs in them. It's about three cabins away from here. Or perhaps, the woods? I find fascinating trinkets there all the time!"

Hange's face alight with joy as they offered to distract you from this sleepless night.

"You sure you won't like to sleep in instead?" you asked.

"Not really fond of sleeping, especially at this time," Hange pushed the door open and stepped outside, brushing their feet off the wooden floor. "The stars looked beautiful tonight too."

The trip to Camp Sina may not have started most favorably due to the strangeness and horror it exudes. However, Hange's presence in such a mysterious place stilled your trust once more. You stepped outside with them, quietly closing the door behind you. Each star sparkled in its own way from where you were looking, each gleam almost like a message or an omen.

"So what do you say?" Hange rippled the silence, an elbow nudging your sides as they smiled. "There are very few attractions here and the most interesting ones I could offer you are the pond or the woods."

Where would you like Hange to take you?

The choice is yours.

a.) the pond

b.) the woods

[Answer here to continue the story.]

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foundtherightwords · 1 year

Text

The Road Forgotten - Chapter 8

Pairing: Arthur Havisham (Dickensian) x OFC

A/N: I made Arthur bisexual and paired him with a female character in this. I know some writers have gotten flack for pairing Arthur with a female character (or reader), so if it's not your cup of tea, please walk away.

This is mostly based on the events of "Dickensian", but I've also incorporated some elements and characters from "Great Expectations". Most notably, Satis House is in Kent (as in the book) instead of in London.

Summary: A few years after his plan to swindle his sister ended in tragedy, Arthur Havisham is a shadow of a man, living in guilt and fear. When Elsie Bradford, a young woman also wronged by Compeyson, enlists Arthur's help to hunt down his former partner-in-crime, Arthur must face his demons and other strange, new feelings, to redeem himself.

Warnings: slow burn, angst, guilt, revenge, psychological trauma, mention of prostitution, mention of suicide/suicide ideations, some violence (in this chapter), a bit of smut (implied smut toward the end of this chapter)

Chapter word count: 2.8k

Chapter 1 - Chapter 2 - Chapter 3 - Chapter 4 - Chapter 5 - Chapter 6 - Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Arthur saw Elsie duck back into the alley, her face deathly white, her whole body shaking like a leaf. "What is it?"

"They found me. I don't know how, but they found me."

He didn't need to ask who she meant. Taking her hand, he pulled her toward the other end of the alley, where it ended in a courtyard. He helped her over the short gate and into a series of labyrinthine lanes and pathways and yards that went behind and between houses. Through these they ran blindly, taking any turn they came upon, not caring where they were going as long as they put some distance between themselves and the two thugs, not stopping until they came upon a gate too tall to climb over. Here they paused to take a breather, straining their ears for any noise behind them. There were footsteps. Still far away, but definitely footsteps, coming closer, inevitably, inexorably. And they were trapped in a dead end.

"Who are these men?" Arthur asked. "Who do they work for? What did you do that made them hunt you so?"

"Does it matter?" Elsie said impatiently, rattling the bars of the gate in vain.

"Perhaps we could bribe them, or pay them off in some way..."

She snorted. "Not unless you have five thousand pounds lying around."

Arthur's heart sank when he remembered he'd once had twice that amount in his hands and had given it away to Compeyson, in a misguided attempt to pay for his sins. It hadn't worked. If only he still had it now. He could've saved Elsie. "What did you do?" he repeated.

Elsie turned to him. She seemed to have come to a decision.

"Do you remember what I told you about how I managed to leave Mrs. Hill's employment?" she said.

"The rich old gentleman?"

"There was no rich old gentleman," she said. "I ran away. I stole from her." She stopped and corrected herself. "No, I didn't steal. I only took what was owed me." And then the words came rushing out, in a cramped, urgent whisper, "It was the money I earned during my eight years there, one year as a maid and seven years as a whore. I made her piles and piles of gold and I never saw a sliver of it. So I took what was mine and I ran. I had to move Marianne three times before I found an asylum remote enough. But I had to come back to London to find Compeyson. And now she's sniffed me out." She took his hands. "I'm sorry, Arthur. I'm sorry I dragged you into this."

Arthur supposed he should have been angry that she kept this from him. But he only felt a sense of awed admiration, even more than what he'd already had for her, and utter shame at himself for sneering at her just a few days ago, for saying that she only knew how to charm men. She had forgiven him for his drunken rant, but he still wanted to make it up to her somehow. That night, he hadn't been able to bring himself to say what he wished he could do for her. He wished he could love her. He wished he could protect her. He wished he could make her feel safe and comfortable, so he never had to wake up to find her fidgeting in bed next to him again. But none of those things would make a difference now.

The footsteps were getting closer.

"Here," he said, kneeling down and clasping his hands together to form a step in front of her. "I can give you a boost."

"What about you?"

"I'll hold them off. You go."

"No!" She held on to his coat. "I told you, don't try to be a hero. They'll kill you."

He had to smile at that. If she only knew how much he'd longed for death before he met her. Back then, death would have been a release. Now he no longer craved it, but he would consider it a worthwhile prize to pay.

"Don't worry about me," he said.

Elsie looked at him, torn. Then she gathered up her skirts, stepped on his outstretched hands, and hoisted herself over the gate. But she didn't run off right away. She pulled a knife out of her reticule, the same knife she'd used on Bill Sikes the night they met, and pressed it into his hand. "Stay alive, all right?" she whispered. "I'll see you at home."

Home. Arthur wanted to tell her that his home was wherever she was, but before he could say a word, she reached through the gate, dropped a quick kiss on his cheek, and vanished into the night, leaving him standing there in shock.

Long after she was gone, he could still feel the heat of her lips on his skin. It gave him strength. He gripped the knife tightly in his palm and strode forward, in the direction of the approaching footsteps.

Soon enough, the two thugs emerged from the alley at a loping run. They drew to a halt upon seeing him. For the briefest moment, Arthur hoped they would ignore him and pass him by, but then he remembered he didn't just have to save himself; he had to stop them from going after Elsie. So he put on the boldest front he could muster up and stood in their way. "Good evening, gentlemen," he said with a pleasant smile. "May I help you?"

"Where's the girl?" the one known as Cyclops snarled.

"What girl?" Arthur asked, still smiling.

"Don't be smart with us, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "We saw you two getting cozy behind that gambling house. Where did she go?"

"Oh, that girl. How should I know? I paid her for her service, it is no concern of mine where she's gone," Arthur said. He hated the lie, but he told himself he was doing it to protect Elsie.

Cyclops's upper lip crooked up in a sneer. He bobbed his head to the tall one, the Chimney, who spat out the cheroot he'd been smoking, bent his shoulders, and ran straight at Arthur.

It was like being hit by a galloping horse. The man's shoulder caught Arthur under his sternum, causing him to crash to the ground with a force that knocked the breath clean out of him. Blackness smashed into his eyes, and pain exploded at the back of his head. He was hauled to his feet and slammed into a brick wall. More pain erupted between his shoulder blades, sending a sense of numbness down his spine and his limbs, paralyzing him.

Cyclops grunted, and the Chimney relaxed his arm, letting Arthur slide down the wall until he was at the same eye level as the little man. He could smell Cyclops's rancid breath on his face and see that single iron-gray eye with its pinprick of a pupil boring into him, even in the dim light of the alley. "Told you not to be smart with us," Cyclops said, holding a thin blade under Arthur's eye. "We've been watching you these past weeks. Joined at the hips, you are. You thought you were clever, you lost us for a while, but we found you again. So be good and tell us where she is. Don't make me mark up this sweet little face."

"I—don't—know—what—you're—talking about!" Arthur managed through the pain and the arm like a tree trunk on his chest, pinning him in place.

Cyclops sighed, as if he hated having to do this. Silently, he increased the pressure on the blade, and it bit into Arthur's cheek. The metal was icy cold, yet its touch on Arthur's skin was like a scorching fire. He could feel blood welling up from the cut and dripping down his face. A whimper escaped his lips.

"Scream, pretty boy," Cyclops said. "Maybe your girl will come to your rescue."

The pain reminded Arthur of the knife Elsie had given him. He was sure he had dropped it when the Chimney knocked him down, but to his surprise, he could still feel its handle in his palm. Putting all the strength he had left into his arm, Arthur swung out wildly. He felt the knife connect with something fleshy—a torso or an arm, he couldn't tell—and heard the Chimney bellow like a wounded beast. The arm holding him buckled, and Arthur crumpled to the ground like a rag doll. A kick landed on his ribcage, followed by a blow to his shoulder. Unable to get to his feet, Arthur could only curl up under the barrage of punching fists and kicking feet and everything and anything the Chimney could get his hands on. Arthur thought he was numb before, but he definitely wasn't so numb to not feel this vicious onslaught.

"Stop, stop, you brainless oaf!" Arthur heard Cyclops yell. "It's no use killing him! He's our only chance to find that thieving cunt!"

So they didn't know where Elsie was staying. That was some comfort.

"Bastard stuck me!" the Chimney roared.

"He barely nicked you. C'mon, get him up so I can—"

Arthur never found out what Cyclops had in store for him. There was a sharp, shrill blow of a police constable's whistle, a shout of "You there! What's going on?", and the sound of several pairs of boots running up.

"Fuck," Cyclops cursed. "Bobby's here. Let's go."

A clatter of the gate told Arthur that Cyclops had clambered over it. The Chimney turned and gave Arthur another kick for good measure, before following his comrade.

Arthur didn't know how long he lay there listening to the sound of receding footsteps and his own ragged breathing. The whistle kept blowing, at longer and longer intervals, but the police didn't show up. Perhaps they had followed the thugs from a different direction. He didn't care. He was only glad he was still alive.

Once his breathing had regained some of its normal speed, he planted his palms on the ground and pulled himself into a sitting position. His whole body was one mass of pain, every bit of skin, every muscle so bruised and tender that even the slightest scrape of the ground under his cheek sent shudders throughout his limbs. The pain was so great that it took over his mind, and he just sat there in a daze. There was something important he must do, somewhere he must go, but he could not remember. Then his eyes landed on the bloodied knife on the ground. He closed his fist around it, and his mind cleared. Home. He must go home. Home to Elsie.

It took every bit of willpower to drag himself to his feet and go back the way they came—there was no way he could climb that gate now, and even if he could, Cyclops and the Chimney might be lying in wait in that direction. So he stumbled through the alleys and back lanes once more, until he found himself on the more familiar thoroughfare of St. James. The street was quiet now, the raid over. Late-night revelers stared at Arthur as he staggered past, but he paid them no mind. It certainly wasn't the first time he walked the streets in such a state.

He had half hoped to run into Elsie on the way, but he knew it was unlikely. She had said she would see him at home. So he had to make it home.

By the time he arrived in St. Giles, he was gasping for breath. His ribs constricted painfully every time he inhaled, and he hoped they weren't broken. He forced himself up the stairs and into his room. It was dark and deserted, no sign of Elsie. His body was screaming, and the cut on his cheek throbbed, but it was nothing compared to the clamoring of his heart. Where was she? Had she gotten away, or had Cyclops and the Chimney found her? He knew he should've gone out to look for her, but he wouldn't know the first place to start, and he was in too much agony to move. He sank into bed and a black veil, half of pain and half of fatigue, descended over him.

***

There was a muffled wailing in his ears, and the white phantom was materializing in the corner of the room, lifting her shroud, getting closer, close enough that he could feel the shroud touching him, burning into his flesh with a dull, aching fire. He grasped for the familiar comfort of Elsie's hands, whimpering her name, but she wasn't there, those fiends might have taken her while he lay here, helpless, useless...

Then suddenly she was, with her sweet voice saying, "I'm here," and her soft hands on him, chasing the ghosts and the pain away. Almost weeping with relief, he wrapped himself around her as he had the first night they were together. She reached under his shirt, brushing against his bruises, but somehow it didn't hurt. He didn't dare exhale, afraid she might stop. Before long, he noticed her caress was changing, becoming more sensual, as she moved from his neck to his chest and lower and lower, her palms leaving scalding touches on his skin. "You were so brave, Arthur," she purred, her hot breath tickling his ear. "How could I ever thank you?" He wanted to say that he didn't do it for her gratitude, that her safety meant more to him than anything, but she silenced him by pressing her body against his, her skin warm and satiny smooth. He didn't remember when he had taken his shirt off, perhaps she had done it for him. He wanted to see her, but the room was dark, and he could only catch glimpses of her as she moved in and out of the yellow gaslight coming in through the window, tantalizing glimpses of her wet lips, her bare shoulders, her slender arms, her full breasts. He couldn't see her eyes.

He seized her wrists, pulled her to him, and sought her mouth with his. But those lips, which had parted so readily for him in the alley outside the gambling den, which had pressed to his cheek with such warmth, remained infuriatingly out of reach, while her hands continued to tease and torment him. "God, Elsie," he gasped, "let me..." Let him what? He couldn't find the words. He was close, so close, if he could only touch her, really touch her, feel himself inside her...

"Arthur," she panted. Her voice changed, becoming more urgent. "Arthur! Arthur, wake up!"

Then her fingers scraped across his cheek, which stung, and her hands were no longer on his erection, but on his shoulder, shaking him awake. He opened his eyes, and it took him a moment to realize that Elsie, the real Elsie, still in her evening gown, was leaning over him, her hands cool on his burning skin, her eyes wide with worry. The arousal he'd felt in the dream remained, a knot of frustration in his trousers. Fumbling, Arthur pulled the sheet across his lap to cover himself, just as Elsie lifted him up to check for injuries.

She drew a sharp breath upon seeing the cut on his cheek. "My God."

"Looks worse than it is," he croaked. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine." She went to rekindle the fire. "I've been waiting at the corner of the street."

"What? For how long?" The idea that she had been on the street, shivering and frightened, while he was up here, fantasizing about her, made Arthur want to die of mortification.

"Only an hour or so. I'm sorry I didn't come back sooner," she said. "I had to make sure they didn't follow you here."

"No, there is no need to apologize," he said quickly, taking her hand. "I'm just glad that you are safe."

She smiled, gave his hand a reassuring little pat, and moved to put the kettle on. She then opened her bag and pulled out a jar of some sort of ointment and a bottle of brandy. Arthur raised an eyebrow upon seeing it.

"Have you had that the whole time?" he asked.

"Don't even think about it," she chided. "It's for your wound."

Arthur watched her bustling about and felt the scorching flames of desire quieting down to warm embers. This was Elsie, the Elsie he knew, solid and practical and indomitable and kind, not the uncanny seductress of his dream. And she wasn't any less alluring. Perhaps even more so, because she was real.

Chapter 9

#arthur havisham #dickensian #arthur havisham fic #arthur havisham x ofc #joseph quinn fic #joseph quinn #arthur havisham smut

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