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wolfylady · 26 days

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Hot and Cold

Summary: Durge is consumed by fragments of their memories, haunted by visions of Gortash. They are comforted by their partners.

Rating: Teen

Pairing: Gender neutral Dark Urge/Durge x Halsin x Astarion

Word Count: 1,318

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Durge curled within themselves, head in hand, clawed nails digging into their scalp as if they could pull the haunting fragments of their memory out and be done with the ghostly phantom with blue eyes.

Enver Gortash.

Their mind swam with visions of him, fragments of lingering touches, soft words, stolen moments set to winking candlelight, moonlit hallways, and soft bedsheets.

Durge could hear him, words of longing and desire whispering against their mind, pulling them deeper into the torrent of red that was their urge.

Gortash loomed, his naked body beading with sweat. 'Darling,' his breath ghosted across their flesh. He spoke between kisses, peppering their body with kisses and bites. 'My little killer, how you crumble for me.'

Then Gortash lay beneath them, their chest rising and falling with each desperate breath. 'Do you want me to beg?' His blue eyes glowed like the hottest flames, his body pinned beneath them, thin cuts beading with blood, littering his naked flesh. 'I need you,' heady and guttural. Their hand was around his throat. 'I'm yours.'

But the pleasure they once shared now felt like distant echoes, as if Durge were watching it all unfold through someone else's eyes.

"Durge?" The deep, dulcet tones of Halsin's voice sounded more like a shout through the typhoon that had consumed Durge. Their eyes snapped up, frightening and wide.

As Halsin drew near, his approach was reminiscent of how one might approach an injured or frenzied animal. Durge hated the druid at that moment, despised the sympathy and concern that colored his features and muddied his gold forest eyes.

From the moment they awoke on the Mindflayer ship, Durge tried to bury their hopelessness and lost sense of self. They tirelessly attended their party and companions to distract themselves from these emotions, attempting to fill the void. The more they learned about themselves, the more they despised the person they were. Durge was loath to admit it, but they despised being themselves most of all.

And when faced with Halsin's unwavering support, it broke them further.

Worse, they hated how they beckoned him with outstretched arms and a long, broken whine, a bitter, pleading noise that sounded from their soul like a strangled breath.

Halsin cowed to them, sweeping them up into his arms, and that's when Durge noticed how they were trembling.

"I am here, my heart," he murmured softly, his voice a soothing balm to their frayed nerves.

But even as Halsin's words washed over them, Durge couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at their insides. Enver Gortash's haunting presence lingered like a shadow, taunting them with memories of passion and a sense of betrayal.

"I can't escape, Halsin," Durge whispered hoarsely, their voice thick with anguish. "No matter how hard I try, I am haunted by the compulsion to kill, and now he is there, lurking in the depths of my mind." They clung to him desperately, seeking refuge in his comfort yet feeling a sense of shame for their vulnerability.

"Explain to me what ails you," he whispered. "Let me be the comfort that you have given me."

"I am a monster," Durge rasped, a strangled sound coming from the recesses of their soul. "I was a part of this ploy. I killed, and I enjoyed it," they sagged. "I still enjoy it. Enver and I," they swallowed but could not summon the words.

"We'll get through this together, Durge," Halsin vowed, his voice unwavering in its determination. "I won't let you face this alone."

Durge wanted to believe him, to find solace in his words. Still, the darkness within them felt suffocating, threatening to consume them whole. They buried their face in Halsin's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging inside their mind.

Unbeknownst to Durge and Halsin, Astarion had been listening in on their conversation the entire time.

Astarion clenched and unclenched his fists, a pang of longing sounding in his chest.

His heart ached, jealousy and self-doubt rearing their ugly heads within Astarion's weary heart. He longed to be the one holding Durge, to whisper sweet words of support, and be that person Durge could rely on.

Yet, Astarion was drowning in centuries of turmoil; he couldn't bring himself to call the feeling in his heart love, so afraid that Cazador would use that feeling, this fondness, to force Astarion to complete the ritual that bound them. Because Astarion would do anything to protect Durge, and that realization was terrifying.

Durge had been a means to an end for Astarion, at least in the beginning, but now he grappled with the overwhelming depth of affection he held for Durge. Even as fractured as Durge was, they hadn't hesitated to be whatever Astarion needed, whether it be a quick romp in the sun, a voice of reason, or a silent shoulder to lean on.

Astarion feared love, fearing that admitting it would lead to Durge abandoning them. So he'd resisted, only to be consumed with a needy possessive desire that only fueled his fear.

As he gazed upon Durge's trembling form, Astarion knew he couldn't continue to wallow in self-pity. He had to find the strength to be there for Durge, just as they had always been there for him.

With a stubborn resolve, Astarion stepped forward. He approached slowly, his eyes catching with Halsin. Though in an open relationship, it was awkward; each held a place with Durge, but with each other, the relationship was one of traveling companions.

He gently placed a hand on Durge's shoulder, offering a silent gesture of solidarity and support. "Darling," he said softly, his voice filled with sincerity. His heart shattered as Durge flinched, red eyes snapping at him. "I may not have all the answers, and I may be struggling with my own demons, but I want you to know that I'm here for you. Whatever you need, whatever you're going through, I'll be by your side every step of the way."

Feeling the warmth of Halsin's embrace and the reassurance in Astarion's words, Durge's heart swelled.

With a small smile playing on their lips, Durge spoke softly, their voice barely above a whisper. "Could we... cuddle?" they asked, their gaze shifting between Halsin and Astarion.

The request hung in the air, vulnerable yet hopeful, as Durge awaited their partners' response. They longed for the comfort of their embrace, the warmth of their touch, as they sought refuge from the storm raging within their mind.

Halsin's arms tightened around them, his eyes softening with affection. "Of course, my heart," he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to Durge's temple. "We're here for you, always."

Astarion nodded in agreement, a flicker of emotion crossing his features. "Absolutely," he said, his voice tinged with tenderness. "We'll get through this together."

As the night descended, enveloping the camp in a blanket of darkness, Durge, Halsin, and Astarion made their way back to the safety of camp and then Astarion's tent.

Durge nestled between their partners, surrounded by layers of soft pillows and blankets and the reassuring weight of their embrace. They clung to their partners, finding solace in the warmth of Halsin's arms and the cool touch of Astarion's.

But as they slept, their dreams were haunted by visions of Enver Gortash, his presence looming over them like a dark shadow. In their dreams, they were transported back to those stolen moments of passion and desire, the memories twisting and distorting into nightmarish visions that left Durge restless and unsettled.

And as the night wore on, the lines between dream and reality blurred until finally, with the first light of dawn peeking through the tent, Durge awoke, their heart still heavy but manageable.

#bg3 #durge bg3 #romance #fanfic #bg3 astarion #halsin x durge #halsin bg3 #astarion x durge

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solarisgod · 1 year

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@cursecorvus wonders what the hell is going on in that head of theirs that would make them want to work with him— be with him. only deaths and destruction will follow him everywhere. not once, can he find any peace in himself or his life that is starless, all cold and cruel. micah still have so much waiting for them that would be best if he was not there to witness. ruin them for the one who deserves more than to have his cursed presence. qualye glares at micah and trying everything in him to push them further away with his thoughts and emotions, without having to touch them— kill— " sorry, little star, but there is no way you'll have me, " he says sharply with own scythe raised, telling micah to get away from him, his death bound omens. " i'm nothing but a bad luck charm. you're... " silence takes over him and he glances away, unsure how to end his sentence without having to break. ( fall apart. )

It has always been like this from Qrow Branwen since the beginning : There is the distance given , the silence , the fear within him . At first , Micah would think Qrow couldn't stay in one place for long because of his occupation as a Huntsheart , killing Beyonestia that could exit their newly told tales and ancient legends to the real world that they are living in . Though the more Micah can get the chances of reaching out to Qrow , the clearer they see the real meanings in his unwillingness to remain still . Qrow thinks he can get away with it — from them , but Micah understands now .

And they have enough .

" I'm what , Qrow ? "

Patience dies beneath Micah's tongue as they gaze back at him , hellfire embodied , burning terribly that could make the stars and shadows shiver . Even when facing his weapon of upcoming death , stared down in the coldness of a huntsman , Micah takes a bold step closer to Qrow . Their eyes glow white , bearing sick frustration . " I'm weak ? " Micah allows their question to dwell in the cold air between them . Despite the release of pained words , their throat closes as they feel like suffocating . " Do you believe that I just can't protect myself from your own Magickry ? "

Misfortune .

It is a terrible power for one to have , what brings only bad luck to those near them , though does he truly believe that they are afraid of it — of him , who they only ever see more than a karma with dust and blood on his name ? Micah shakes their head . " Well , I think not . I am stronger than what you or anyone will ever think of me . " They were content being called a little star by Qrow . In fact , they did enjoy the pet name , but now , they see it as a demeaning title , making them a little light that the world will just devour . Their heart aches at the ugly image and they grit their teeth .

" Just because — " Micah takes another step closer to him , shaking , crying , " I - - I - I have been grieving — " they hit their chest as an emphasize , " I have been falling behind , un - unlike the other Neosaints — " then again , now telling Qrow that they are never afraid to be touched by him or the violent lights of their life , " What I am held back from or how I am hurting does not mean that I am weak . " Yes , they were harmed by Qrow's Magickry a few times , yet , in the end , they only ever keep returning to him who is more than his bad luck . Because he is their friend .

" Not ever , " Micah adds quietly , their gaze softens with the tears gone .

" And I think you will always be more than your belief that you were born unlucky . i know you are not defined as only your misfortunes . It's not your fault , Qrow . " they stare at the surface , sighing . " Please , let me be with you . For once . "

#SELF HARM CW #CURSECORVUS #///#//#/#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ IN . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ ANSWERS . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ V : MAIN / ARC I . ›#𓁹 ༑ ࿐ྂ ⩇⩇ : ⩇⩇ ⚠︎ [ 𝙴𝚇𝙸(𝚂)𝚃 : 𝙶𝙾𝙳 ] * ‹ MICAH . ›#[ WELPSDNKGSDBNLGDS;GLJNKSDNGLKM; ]#[ IT'S THE WAY I NEVER SHUT THE FUCK UP IN MY REPLIES... ]#[ IT'S THE WAY WE LITERALLY HAD A STRONG IDEA IN MIND WITH OUR OWN FOLKLORE / FAIRYTALE LORES MADE WITH JUST THIS REPLY ALONE DSJNKM ]#[ OUGHRGRSMKFNJUN THIS PROMPT AND REPLY HURTS SO MUCH THOUGH ]#[ literally begging these two to be only HAPPY... TOGETHER!!! ]

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andypowell · 1 year

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High Thoughts:

I'm high and too wrapped up in this music. I think I might lose it. Love and affection have left me tattered and covered in bruises. I keep breaking hearts, and I've got no excuses.

I'm getting lost in perfume mist. Aching for just one more kiss. Praying to God that he grants me this one last wish to spend another few moments with her in complete and utter bliss.

But I'm just dreaming. I'm packing my shit, and I'm leaving. Commitment is making me sick to the point of dry heaving. Emotionally I've stopped breathing. Completely stopped believing. I need to be left alone to finish my grieving.

I am a broken record. I'm a scratched CD. I use all the same material, and then I repeat. I'm growing numb to the feeling of my own heartbeat.

I'm filling my lungs until I am suffocating. I can't get high like the first time, and it's fucking frustrating. The damage is done, and now I am levitating and dissociating. I'm mentally relocating.

I awake in a place full of warmth and light. A place where the sun never fades, and I can escape the anxiety that threatens to keep me submerged in darkness and despair throughout the night.

I am the only one to exist here, as everyone else had run away from me in fear. Or I Iet them go because I felt that my good karma was reaching its end, and self-sabotage was near.

So now I sit in this paradise alone yet I've managed to cling onto a voice that sings to me on the other side of my phone,

but will that voice still love me if my mind is gone and my body is all that remains? Will I be accepted when emotional unavailability binds me in chains? Will I still be loved when anxiety has me off the walls and going insane? Silently I sob and beg for the voice on the voice to relieve me of my pain.

End

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thefanficmonster · 3 years

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Innocent Life

Ethan Winters (Resident Evil Biohazard) & Child!Reader (Gender Neutral)

Warnings: Angst, Mentions of Death, Grief, Spoilers for RE8:Village, Swearing

Genre: Angst

Summary: As Ethan stands outside the ruins of Luiza’s house, looking the aftermath of the death he barely escaped in the eye, he cannot get the wails and cries of a child out of his head. Takes him a bit to realize they’re not a product of his trauma.

Requested by Anon. Hi dear! Thank you so much for the wonderful request, I had a blast writing it - what can I say, angst is my specialty hehe. Hope you enjoy the read! Love, Vy ❤

How the hell is this happening? Why is this happening? Why to me? Why my family? Why were we the ones chosen for this suffering to be thrown upon? What did my daughter do to deserve this, for fuck’s sake?!

Why does everyone around me die? Why do I always loose everyone?

I’m the problem....

His knees are weak, his head’s spinning. His lungs have filled with smoke and ash so much he can barely breathe. His eyes sting, reddened around the edges, his vision blurry. However, what bothers him most is the mess that is currently his mind - swimming with the feeling of betrayal, sorrow and dread.

He lost so much so suddenly and in such a short amount of time. He lost Chris - someone he thought of as a friend but has now been replaced by a coldblooded killer and backstabber. He refuses to believe that’s still the Chris who saved him and Mia from Louisiana, he has to be dead.

Mia....

He lost Mia. He’s lost her before countless times - he lost her when he though she was dead, he kept losing her and getting her back at the Bakers’ residence as she switched between her monstrous form and being herself. He lost her again when they made it back, when her mind was clouded and darkened, when all she needed was solitude and when he wasn’t allowed anywhere near her as doctors upon doctors used her as a research object. And now he’s lost her again, this time for good. It’s just him and Rose now.

Or it would be if she too wasn’t taken from him, leaving him in the pit of grief and loss, both emotions at an intensity he’s never experienced before. Like a drill going through his heart, or a sledgehammer breaking it down to shards. Or as though his heart’s completely vanished, unable to take the anguish Ethan’s existence has become. The anguish that will live on for as long as he will.

Those three years of Mia being gone.

That nightmarish night back in Louisiana.

The horrific sight of dozens of bullets entering his wife’s body in front of his very eyes as he remained helpless.

The sound of Rose’s wailing cries.

God, he can still hear them. And oh so vividly. Like a cursed, haunting loop in his brain. If he closes his eyes he can almost imagine her being a few feet from him, near him, giving him the opportunity to soothe her, calm her down, tell her it’s all gonna be ok even if it seems like hell at the moment. Promising he’d make it all alright and make the right people pay for what’s happened.

But then finally, he picks up on it - the oddity in the cries he’s hearing.

They’re too realistic for a mind to be able to produce. They’re too loud and too close and are external. And, most importantly, they sound like the cries of an older child.

Ethan quickly snaps himself back to reality, coming to terms with the knowledge that the sounds he’s hearing are a part of it and not some dark corner of his mind. Despite the horror he feels and creep up, taking over his whole body in the form of cold sweat, he still takes a step towards the source of the ear-splitting and heart-sinking noise. It’s instinctively human to feel a sickening feeling of sympathy combined with the need to shield something so powerless from any harm.

To save an innocent life.

Heading towards the side of what used to be Luiza’s house he spots it - a crib on top of which there’s a pile of rubble and wooden planks. The thing seems to barely be standing and yet it’s harboring the child whose cries have now grown louder. Ethan’s frozen for a few moments, frozen with fear. Frozen with the overwhelming thought that there’s no way he can save that child. Frozen and powerless, just like he was on the floor of his own home as life left Mia’s body.

You didn’t do anything for her....

The sound of a crack in the already weak wood, seemingly coming from the child’s crib, sends all his senses on edge, his adrenaline once again starting to rush through his veins.

But you can do something for that child, Ethan! Do something before it’s too late!

Within the blink of an eye, Ethan finds himself standing above the unsteady wooden structure, putting all his strength into removing the rubble that has thankfully piled atop the wooden planks, preventing anything from landing on the baby and harming it. Hell, it’s a miracle it didn’t suffocate from the smoke in the first place. Its cries are put to a halt when its wide eyes land on Ethan, who’s looking back at the toddler with the same amount of distress.

“Hi there. It’s ok, you’re safe now.“ He finds himself breathing out shakily as his trembling hands reach down, picking up the now silent toddler. “It’s ok, little one. You’re a literal miracle, you know that?“ His gaze travels over the ruin the house has become, the house that was this child’s home. Its family’s home. This toddler knows loss much like Ethan does, or it will when it grows up. But as of now, it’s secured in the bubble of blissful ignorance due to infancy.

And Ethan has come across yet another bump in the road: making his way in the castle was already gonna be a difficult and possibly lethal venture, but doing it with a child in his arms, that’s a death sentence for both him and the kid.

“You and I have a thing for surviving hell, but not even I am willing to take the risk of taking you with me, kid.“ He gently caresses the toddlers head as its big awed eyes blink up at him with curiosity.

One one hand, a castle with horrors he’s yet to be familiar with; on the other, a village which’s horrors he’s already seen and experienced and would rather die right in this very spot than subject this innocent kid to them.

Ethan’s once again stranded.

“What do I do with you, kid? Being with me won’t bring you any good. I’m like a death sentence to everyone around me.“ His heart breaks as he says that because - in his mind and by his logic - it’s the truth. It’s the only thing that makes sense in such a nonsensical situation.

Then suddenly, an idea sparks, fueling what little hope and courage he has left and getting his legs to move from the spot they’ve been stuck in for the past God knows how long. That’s not important right now. What matters is that, for the first time since this nightmare started, Ethan Winters has a clue of what he’s doing. He’s got a plan.

* * *

“I see you have returned!“ The Duke greets him with his signature lazy smile before his gaze lands on the child in Ethan’s arms, his eyes widening in surprise, “Oh, and you’ve got company!“

“Actually...“ Ethan stops in front of the shop, adjusting his grip on the kid, “They’ll be keeping you company from now until....well, until I come back.“

“And where is it you’re planning on going?“ The Duke asks, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion and concern, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I know how to take care of a child.“

Ethan grows irritated, “Perhaps you don’t suppose I’m gonna take a kid into that castle you called me insane for wanting to go in myself. Trust me, I wouldn’t be leaving them with you if it wasn’t my only choice.” When he doesn’t receive a verbal response from the Duke, more of an expression change that suggested he’s accepting of this, Ethan grow relieved, turning to the toddler that hasn’t taken its eyes off him even for a second. “Hey, you’re gonna be just alright with the big guy, ok? He’s gonna keep you safe until I come back.” His initial intention was to say ‘even if I don’t come back’ but he just couldn’t bring himself to say it, not to the kid at least, “Until then...” He pauses when a name automatically pops up in his head, “Until then, Y/N, you’ll stay here with the Duke.”

After that heavy-hearted goodbye, Ethan reluctantly hands the kid - Y/N - over to the Duke, a shift they are not very happy about seeing as how they start wailing immediately.

“You owe me plenty, Mr. Winters.“ The Duke says with a frown on his face, displeased and already developing a headache from the child’s cries.

“I owe you nothing. What you’re doing is basic human decency.“ Ethan glares at him before turning his attention to Y/N, “Hey, it’s alright. I know you two aren’t big fans of one another, but I promise I won’t take long. I’ll be back before you know it.“ Planting a quick reassuring kiss on top of the child’s head, he steps away, relieved to find they don’t break out in a crying fit again.

With that peace of mind, he takes off on the path that’ll lead him to the castle. A part of him has found some peace, knowing that one innocent life has been saved. However, there’s still one awaiting rescue. And he’ll be damned if he’s not the rescuer.

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dandielion-seven · 3 years

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[ONESHOT]

Characters - Kaeya, Venti, Abyss prince Aether, Albedo

Warnings - none

Wot's et bout'? - What if reader is scared of the dark? How would they react ?

Genre - fluff

------------------------------------------ • ◇~

Kaeya

In all honesty this man would be amused by it

He might tease you about it, scratch that, he will tease you about it

In the end however he is happy that he gets free cuddles because of this

You and Kaeya had been on an expedition with the nights and you had wished to be in a separate room due to wanting to focus on work that you had forgotten to do and had now have to do

However in such a hurry you must've forgotten a certain fear of yours, the dark

It was reminded to you once trying to go to slumber after realising that the room had no lighting due to it just being a stop you had to go through, so it wasn't anything expensive or extraordinary

You took in a deep breath, grabbed your blanket and pillow, even though you knew you probably wouldn't need them, bringing them with you you just incase you might

The journey to his room wasn't that long but the dark seemed to suffocate you and swallow you like the depths of ocean would. Feeling a clump in your throat you almost ran there, walking in a very quick pace to there

Taking another breath you knocked on his door, waiting for a minute until he showed up opening the door as if he had known this would happen wich he probably did considering its him

You could see from his eyes that he had just awakened from sleep, yet he still had that sly smirk on his face when he looked at you

You wanted to elbow him but still also didn't want to sleep alone in a completely dark room so you just rolled your eyes and looked at him with the most serious face that you could present

"Sir, I request cuddles, as soon as possible"

He smiled at you picking you up and carrying you towards his bed catching you off guard a bit but you smiled and melted at his touch

"Before I grant you what you wish for, what might've been the reason for this request of yours?"

Knowing that he would get the answer out of you anyway and being too tired to think of something you told him that the dark was bothering you and that being him would soothe you

He chuckled at that a bit dropping down on the bed with you in a position allowing you to snuggle into him

"That's quite the interesting fear you have"

You huffed in response as he made fun of you blushing a bit snuggling closer to him

"I mean it is quite cute"

Venti

While having a little adventure at night this gremlin would notice you acting different and anxious

He has an idea.

As you were walking with him having a small little adventure you felt yourself grow suspicious of your surroundings and started to look around as something was about to attack you. You couldn't exactly tell if it was the dark or paranoia but it didn't feel nice

He did notice, but you brushed it off saying you were simply tired and thought you heard something near you so you checked, he didn't believe it but he didn't want to pressure you either

But once you literally jumped and almost toppled over your legs, he intervened grabbing your hand walking you towards a ledge of a mountain sitting down with you on the grass making sure to pick a spot that seemed comfortable

"You can relax, I'll keep you safe"

You felt a bit nervous, looking at him smile however made you feel a bit less, smiling back at him, he seemed to be serious about this

You sat there just looking at the star filled sky with him, it was calming, the dark seemed natural now, it didn't seem so bad anymore for you, relasing a sigh you relaxed your shoulders and placed your head on his

He started humming a tune slowly lulling you to sleep as he made small braids in your hair and just playing with your hair making little goosebumps appear widening your smiled furthermore

This is so cheesy help

Abyss prince Aether

I am not that knowledgeable of his character so it will probably be very fanon

This man would be stoic and pretend he didn't notice but in the end he would end up letting you melt in his hands with him hiding his smile

You two sat there finishing some paperwork in the dark room with just a lantern allowing you to only see him, yourself and the stuff on the table

Every now and than he would notice you starting to feel anxious and look around in fear, it looked weird but he hadn't seen anyone act like this in situations as you were in so he continued doing paperwork and discussing matters with you

You were about to jump feeling a hand on your shoulder but it ended up being his hand so you quickly changed your expression to hopefully make him worry less, his face showed no emotion however his eyes were mirrors of worry

"Are you feeling ok? I could send you to your room if you want to"

He spoke looking directly into your eyes to see if his suspicions were correct

"N-No, really I'm fine, let's contin-"

Before you were able to finish your words he swooped you into his lap

"I will continue doing my duties, you can sleep, as I belive you do not seem to be in the best mindset to be left in a room alone"

Loosening your posture and starting to blanket his body you closed your eyes knowing that trying to argue with him would end with you just being knocked out to sleep next

Albedo

10/10 would be confused but would listen to you and try to figure something out

He would be in his lab with you as he had grown fond of you over these past weeks so he would now enjoy your company when he was working

He would be intensely focused in on his work but he still needed you there for company and you find it kind of cute

However, what you did not find cute was him working in almost complete darkness

He knew something was wrong when you started fidgeting with your stuff and jumping at any noise or touch

"Y/n is anything bothering you"

"Ah, uhhh"

You gulped before answering feeling as if it was just a silly childish fear

"You see I have had a fear of dark for as long as I can remember... I know it probably sounds foolish but it's there"

Looking up at him he had a quizzical expression looking as if in deep thought meeting your eyes he showed a small smile

"I might have a solution for that but for today I should send you home, you look as if you might need some sleep"

Think of the rest yourself it's worth it

#genshin impact #genshin kaeya #genshin venti #genshin albedo #genshin x reader #abyss prince aether #WRITINGFORVENTISNOTASEASYASITSEEMS

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hyunjilicious · 3 years

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3:11am [captain syverson]

Summary: you’re just an army medic so in order to have your voice heard you need to go straight to the captain with your ideas, right? And what better way to do it, if not at 3:11am in his room? (SMUT) 4.3k

Warnings: daddy kink, size kink, unprotected sex, Sy is a little bit of ass, dirty talk, manhandling, a tad bit of humiliation/degradation.. :) I didn’t go too far.

Feedback makes my day! Maybe tell me what you thought? Please? :)

Danger loomed at every corner. And you couldn't have been oblivious to it. Every one was either panicked or enraged, both emotions driven by the ongoing terror forced upon your group as you have been caught in the crossfire. The conflict you found yourselves stuck in was generations old, and the fact that you had hidden eyes, watching your moves from every shadow, was as unsettling as it could be.

You crossed the camp on high alert, even if those were supposed to be safe grounds. Laughter was audible from the tents nearby, yet the fear never left your bones. Palms cold but still damp with nervous sweat, you counted the steps you had to take until you reached your destination. Ever since you left your designated bunk, you've been picturing the stairs that led down to Captain Syverson room, and now they were mere meters in front of you, but you still felt like you couldn't breathe.

Even when you reached the door, you still couldn't swallow the lump in your throat. And the fact that it was unlocked, made you all the more nervous.

You didn't want to knock. The lights were all off, and you were afraid the sound would draw unnecessary attention. So, going against your gut, you slowly pushed the door open, cautiously stepping inside.

Dead silence.

Only a pair of red glowing numbers were visible in the thick darkness, showing you just how late and unacceptable it was for you to be there. 3:11 am. Not only should you have been asleep for hours, but you were also pretty sure that if you were to be awake, the bunk was the place where you should be counting the sheep until you dozed off.

From memory, you turned to the left, picturing inside your mind where the door that led to the hallway was supposed to be. You probably managed to get about two steps in before, from the suffocating darkness to your left, a loud clattering noise was heard, before a pair of strong arms restrained you.

Only a gasp managed to escape your lips before your mouth was forced shut by a hand, aggressively making it impossible for you to make any sound. Realising kicking and squirming in this person's hold would be of absolutely no use, you raised your left leg in the air, gathering momentum for a strategic hit. But the blow was never delivered.

"Shh!!!"

Despite threatening and capable of making anybody's blood run cold, that southern accent was impossible to mistake.

"Don't fucking move" he said again.

With your brain soaked in adrenaline, obeying his command sounded near impossible. You fidgeted against his rock hard chest, and all it did for you was get him to tighten his hold.

"I don't know if your eyes got accustomed to the dark yet" captain Syverson said through gritted teeth, "But at about 2 o'clock, MacGregor is sleeping. If you wake him up, we're both dead"

You swallowed the information with difficulty, but it relaxed you to some extent. However, despite calming down and not showing any signs of wanting to put up a fight anymore, Sy didn't let you go.

Instead, with high precision, he dragged you through the darkness, and across the room, right where you were initially planning to go. Clutching the hand that was still roughly pressing down against your lips, you stumbled obediently in every direction he dragged you to. When you reached a plain black door, he opened it with maximal caution, and pushed you inside, before turning around to close it in the same silent manner.

You stumbled a few steps forward before regaining your balance as your knees have probably never been weaker. Struggling to catch your breath, you saw Sy turn and face you, the coldest of death stares plastered on his blue eyes.

"The fuck you doin' here, hm?" he growled, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

"I-" you said, squinting in the neon light of the tiny room, "I have an idea for the crew, it's-"

"Don't fucking care what idea you got, darlin'" he shook his head, taking another step in your direction, "Do you even know what time it is?"

"Late" you sighed, stating the obvious.

"Damn right it's late" he nodded, "What I wanna know now is why you were stupid enough to sneak all the way over here, when you know-"

"No one saw me, Sy" you exclaimed.

A grin tilted the corner of his lips upwards, "I fucking saw you"

"Yeah but-" you stopped to frown as confusion hit you, "How did you see me?"

"Listen here, little girl" he taunted, each word more threatening as he started to close the distance that was keeping you apart, "You're a doctor, not a soldier, fixing our shit is none of your business. Two, you don't report to me-" he said, nodding his head to the side, "And three, I'm sure no idea was too urgent that you couldn't wait until the morning"

Calling you out like that was completely unnecessary. You had been lying to yourself, claiming the reason for your late night visit was purely selfless, however when you heard the words come out of his mouth, you realised just how strongly you had been bulshitting yourself.

"Fine-" you huffed with annoyance, getting ready to walk past him, "You want me to leave? I'll leave"

"Nuh-uh" he shook his head, grabbing you by the forearm. He didn't move any other muscle of his body and continued talking without turning to look at you, "You're a smart woman, tell me why you're really here"

"Because I wanna help!" you rolled your eyes - a lie you almost believed yourself.

"Try again, doll" he commanded, tightening his grip. The fact that you felt a bruise already forming riled you up, but it wasn't enough to get you to cooperate in the way he wanted you to.

Once you realised what he was waiting to hear, you shook your head in disbelief, "You got no class!"

After spitting the anger filled words in his direction, you tried to free your arm, and walk away, but he wasn't having it.

"Well-" Sy took a deep breath, harshly spinning you around and slamming you face first against his desk, "If you had any, you wouldn't be here now, would you?"

Knees weak under his heavy presence, you gathered all your strength into your arms, planting your palms against the metal surface of the desk in order to push yourself up.

All it took him to cancel your intentions was an effortless shove against your upper back. He got you back down in under a second with a loud thud, but this time he bent down too, towering above you.

"Now that you saw your antics don't work with me-" he growled directly into your ear, his thick beard tickling the skin of your neck. Sy lodged his hand into your hair, curling his fingers around your roots and forcing your head back, "Mind telling me why you're really here? We can do this until the morning, I ain't tired"

"You're enjoying this, aren't you?" you huffed through gritted teeth.

"What? Seeing you squirming under me with absolutely no say in what's about to happen to that sweet little pussy of yours? Yes, very much so"

"Fuck you"

"Isn't that why you came here?" Sy taunted.

He grunted, shaking his head in disbelief. "Try again"

This time, he didn't pull your hair anymore, and the sting you expected to reach your scalp never came. However, he bucked his hips into yours, pressing your body even harder against the desk. With every time and every way his body brushed against yours, the pain between your legs grew stronger and stronger. But still, you didn't want to word your need, instead just settled for milking every last drop of this unexpected turn of events. About 15 minutes before, when you had just left your room, you weren't sure you would even get to talk to him, let alone end up in this situation. Under him. His cock shamelessly pressing up against your ass, as every word that came out of his mouth only managed to make you crave him more.

"Are gonna tell me, hm?" he moaned into your ear, the weight of his body on top of yours becoming difficult to bear. "Or am I gonna have to force the words out of you?"

The way he talked, honey sweet yet goosebumps worthy, his tone managed to crack your self control. Against your better judgement, you breathed out slowly, the pleasure in the back of your throat materialising into the softest of whimpers.

"Oh" Sy grinned, his right hand groping its way down your body, "Can't hide it anymore, can you?"

If until now you did a fairly bad job at hiding your true emotions, when he grabbed a handful of your ass, his fingers threatening to leave purple bruises, you dropped the facade all together.

"Fuck" you moaned, forehead pressed against the desk as you arched your body back, harder against his palm.

"That's my girl" he laughed.

Much to your dismay, after his deep amused tone reached your ears, he pulled away. Upset at the sudden loss of contact, you choked back a whine, turning your head to look at him over your shoulder.

Even with the lights turned on, he was facing away from the source, so that soft shadows contoured his features perfectly. His eyes hooded with greed looked down at you, and as soon as he saw the hungry expression on your face, his lips curled into a devious smile. "No, sweetheart. Face the wall", he said, nodding his head.

Reluctantly, you did so. Delectable anticipation washed over you when his calloused hands grabbed your waist. It was only for a minute, though. He roughly pulled you back until your hips passed the edge of the desk. You didn't get a chance to put two and two together before Sy forced your pants open, and pulled them down your legs, along with your underwear in under a moment.

Flushed with embarrassment at the full, sudden exposure, you clamped your thighs together.

Without a word, he lodged his boot between your feet, forcing your legs open. "This could've been avoided" he stated, "But I don't think you wanted that. I think you wanted the slut fucked out of you"

"Come on…" you pleaded, lodging your teeth deep into your bottom lip.

Your entire body fired up when his bare fingers connected to your opening. He moved agonisingly slow, teasing his way along your lips, intentionally applying the perfect amount of pressure to have you crying for more.

"You know you're gonna have to do so much fucking better than that, don't you?" Sy chuckled, dipping his fingers into your wetness. "I know you can beg."

"Fucking hell-" you cried, squirming under his influence, "Please"

"No, baby. Tell me, use your words. I wanna hear you tell me how to fuck you. And don't bother holding back 'cause you know I won't"

"Come on, Sy-" you whined, trying your best to grind down against his fingers, "You know I want- I want you-"

A rough slap that echoed around the room attacked your ass, delightful pain propagating in waves across your whole body. You let out a tortured yelp, but it wasn't enough to impress.

"You already made a mess on my fingers. You're dripping wet, love. Why try to hide just how big of a slut you are?"

"I'm a slut-" you panted, breathing heavily through every word, "I'm a slut, please, I need you"

Another blow. This time, his palm landed on already inflamed skin, doubling the pain that fueled your pleasure.

"Need me to what, baby girl?"

"I need you to fuck me" you whimpered, tears running down your cheeks. Digging your nails into the underside of the edge of his desk, you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to concentrate around the ecstasy he had running through your veins. "I need your cock, Sy, please. I fucking need you really bad right now, please. I'll do anything you want"

"All you need to do, pet, is learn your place" Syverson said, greedily caressing your ass. "Did you come here just to get that cunt used?"

"Yes" you nodded, not even remembering that in the beginning, you really did have something important to talk to him about. "Yes, I only wanted your cock. Please fuck me, I promise I'll be good forever"

"My good slut forever?" he questioned, the perverted enthusiasm audible in his tone.

As he spoke, Sy slid his middle finger inside your pussy. "Is that all you want, whore? To be my property?"

"Yeah…"

"You want me to own you?" he taunted, sliding another finger into your pussy, just for the sake of pushing your buttons, "Want me to use your whore body for my pleasure whenever I feel like it?"

A rush of electricity coursed through you.

"That's all I want, Sy" you whispered.

"Are you sure, baby girl?" he taunted, bending down.

His immense frame hovered above your shivering body, his haunting presence enough to get you drunk on the ecstasy of what was to come.

You swallowed thickly, pained tears stinging your eyes. Cupping his cheek over your shoulder, your words came out as a ghostly whisper, "Please-" you breathed out, "I need you now, Sy. I wanted you since I met you back home, you know that. Please, I can't wait any longer"

His daunting chuckle sent shivers all over your body. He pushed himself off of you, but his breath still tickled the back of your neck. It was enough for you to know that you were to remain in place and wait for his next move.

"Of course you can wait, angel" he said, moments before the metallic clank of his belt being unbuckled fueled your senses, "You're lucky I don't want you to"

You released a weak chuckle, shaking your head in disbelief at the way he managed to carry the situation. Your shoulders were dangerously tense as you waited. For anything. For him to say or do something, but he forced you to sit and boil in anticipation. But the build-up was worth the frustration, as when you felt his touch against your pussy, adrenaline started to pump through your veins.

"You know how long I thought about fucking you like this?" Sy asked.

It was then that you realised it wasn't his finger probing your folds, but the tip of his cock. Slick and solid against your pussy, he expertly teased all your right spots.

"You flaunt this fucking tight ass all day long, panting in the heat, sweat dripping down your tits-" Sy exclaimed, his need and hunger for you audible through every word, "and now you're telling me-"

He paused to bend down above you, hands planted on the desk on either side of your shoulders as he spoke lewdly in your ear, "And now you're telling me I got you naked and whimperin', beggin' me to empty my balls inside your pussy?"

Refusing to use your words, you settled for a better answer - the only answer your dazed mind was able to give. Arching your back as you moaned his name, you pushed your ass back, his massive cock inching inside your pussy.

Syverson grunted, low and guttural, pleasure erupting from the depths of his throat. Goosebumps arose across your body.

"Fuck me, Sy-" you cried, your voice breathy and seductive, "Rough me up, come on"

And he did. You managed to push all his buttons and get him to lose the self control he tries so hard to put on display. He did an excellent job, judging by how hard his cock was when he slammed his hips into yours. Your walls spread beyond what you ever thought would be pleasurable, yet he had you crying out his name as your eyes rolled back.

His immense hands held your hips with damaging force, planting bruises all of your skin. Not that you had any choice, but you let yourself go limp, and allowed him to manhandle your frame to his will. With ever powerful thrusts of his body against yours, the desk underneath you rocked, slamming into the wall, making a sound loud and obnoxious enough to awake just about anyone who was sleeping there.

But you didn't care. And neither did Sy.

The only thing you had on your mind was the killed ecstasy he fucked into you, his cock slamming balls deep into your aching pussy. You rolled your head, whined and dug your nails into your palms, in what was probably the most pathetic attempt to keep yourself grounded.

Syverson wasn't far behind. His breathing aggravated, turned into guttural groans that made the hairs on your body stand up.

"Fucking hell" he cursed, his fingers sinking deeper into your flesh as he picked up his pace, "FUCK"

You moaned, a wave of pleasure coursing through you, "Harder please"

Those words went against all your senses, against the pain you felt between your legs, the strain on your back or the lack of air in your lungs. But you wanted more. Needed more.

With one long, hard thrust, Sy pushed his cock all the way inside your pussy, his balls pressing against your clit, "Wouldn't wanna break you, little girl"

The teasing side of you awoke. You pushed yourself up and threw your hair back so that you could turn and look at him over your shoulder, "You couldn't if you tried"

His whole frame darkened. Not just the look in his eyes. He now seemed taller, more dangerous and menacing as your words tickled his lust. Syverson shook his head, and in one swift motion, lodged his hand in your hair pulling you all the way up with your back against his chest.

"I don't want you talking to me like that," he groaned.

If you hadn't felt his cock twitch, fear would have definitely enveloped you.

"You're in no place to undermine me, ok?" he growled, voice deep, ringing against your ear, "You're so small and powerless. It's fucking clear I call the shots. Be a good little girl and don't piss me off" he threatened, his free hand wrapping itself around your neck.

"Or what?" you whispered.

"You're a soldier, right?" Sy laughed, "Wouldn't it be a shame if for a few days you wouldn't be able to walk straight. Or sit down?"

You swallowed thickly, his words turning you own even more as your pussy clenched around his cock just thinking about it, "Sounds more like an offer than a punishment"

Sy took his sweet time answering. Before he opened his mouth to speak, his hand traveled down your body, all the way over to your clit, where he began to apply pressure in the form of experienced, delicate circles.

You whimpered in return and only then did he answer. "Turns out you're a bigger slut than I thought, but don't think it will take me long to have you crying and begging"

You nodded yes. He never asked any kind of question, so you had no idea why you responded that way, you just did, and Sy took it as his cue to resume his work.

This time, he held you against his body. With each thrust, the tip of his cock applied more and more pressure to your sweet and overly sensitive spots, braiding pain into the pleasure he created for you.

But it was what you wanted. How you wanted it. Because it was a matter of time until he had you moaning and crying, expressing the pure ecstasy that was surging through your body. You were approaching your high at such a dangerous speed that the strain in your back was no longer of importance, and the force with which Sy pulled at the roots of your hair, wasn't even passing the threshold of discomfort anymore.

All your thoughts had been flooded by his breathing, low and guttural, against your temple. The simple fact that his pleasure was audible in his tone, aggravated your arousal. You've never in your life been so eager to please someone. But now, you were beaming proudly, your stomach in knots.

You came soon after that. The orgasm came down crushing on you, blurring your thoughts completely. Your muscles spammed uncontrollably, and the cries that escaped your lips were sure to wake up everyone in the compound. But neither you, nor Sy cared.

"Fuck, fuck, fuck-" you panted, seconds before your eyes rolled back in pleasure, your body remaining weak and consumed in his hold.

"Come on, darling" Sy chuckled, readjusting his hold around your body, pressing you even harder against his chest, "Daddy's gotta finish too. Otherwise we did this for nothing"

"Yes" you moaned.

The way he forced his cock in and out of your sensitive and overly-used cunt brought tears to your eyes. You knew he was close when he slowed down his pace, now his thrusts becoming deeper and less regulated. Each slam of his hips into yours rocked your whole frame, until your toes barely reached the ground. Sy held you up into his massive arms, guiding and handling your body to fit his needs perfectly.

And it fucking worked because in a matter of seconds, he lost control, aggressively riding his high until there was no amount of cum to be released. When he pulled out, panting and exhausted, he moved to the side, planting his hands on the edge of the desk to catch his breath.

Determined to not piss him off anymore, you gathered yourself much faster than him, ready to dress yourself back up and bolt.

"What are you doing?" Sy asked, looking at you over his shoulder with confusion in his eyes.

"I'm- uh, I was gonna-" you mumbled, pointing to the door but he stopped you.

"Hop on" he said.

He pointed to the desk, and although unsure, you did as he told you. You barely managed to stay awake while he was in the small bathroom attached to his room, but when he returned and placed a damp washcloth between your legs, your mind buzzed awake.

"I hurt you" he said, massaging your thighs as he softly cleaned you up, "I got-"

"No, it's fine" you stopped him, "I'm just exhausted and probably very sore, god, but I'm good"

Sy just nodded, something obviously still bothering him. But he didn’t say anything, and instead, proceeded to clean you up, ending with a gentle kiss against your sensitive opening.

You hissed unconsciously, but then ended up smiling widely, amused with your own reactions. Sy helped you off the desk and guided you to his bed, his hand on your ass as you leaned into his side for support.

“It hurts, right?”

“I’m just sore, it’s fine” you tried to dismiss his concerns, but he wasn’t having it.

Sy grabbed your face into his hands and forced you to look into his eyes, “It’s gotta, darling, you understand that”

You shook your head, smiling, but he wasn’t waiting for your approval.

“Come on” he said, guiding you to lay down, “We have about 2 hours of sleep left, and god knows, you’re gonna need them”

“Fuck yes” you sighed, plopping down next to him.

Although every fiber of your body begged for closeness, you stopped yourself, afraid to not cross any lines. But, much to your surprise, Syverson didn’t waste a second before pulling you into his arms and tucking your head in the crook of his neck. It gave you a sense of security you never felt before in your life - the way his heart beat against your skin. He fell asleep with his arms fastened around your frame, tightening his hold every time you tried to move.

It was just a matter of seconds until you both drifted off. Considering your whereabouts and the circumstances you’ve lived though, it was safe to say this was probably the best night’s sleep you had gotten in months. That was why, when you were pulled awake by him getting ready around the room, you were so disappointed.

“Is it 6 already?” you mumbled, rolling over only to land face first into his pillow.

“Go back to sleep, darling,” Sy said, fastening his belt, “Got some paperwork to do. I’ll cover for you and then I’ll come back with coffee in about 2 hours or so, how’s that sound, hm?”

“Mmm” you moaned, “Perfect”

The last thing you heard was Sy chuckling at himself, and then, you fell back asleep. You had no idea how much time passed until a loud, redundant noise woke you up. It took you about a few seconds to realise what it actually was that you were hearing.

“Y/n?” a grave male voice echoed from behind the door, “You in there?”

After that, he knocked a few times more, before starting to repeatedly slam his fist into the door.

“It’s open, what the fuck-” you groaned, not even standing up from the bed.

Instantly, the door flew open, Sgm. MacGregor bursting into the room, features ablaze with pure anger.

Your face fell.

“Sergeant, I-” you tried to speak, hurrying to find a way to explain what exactly it was that you were doing naked, in a room other than yours, when in fact you should have already been on post for god knows how many hours.

“Don’t even wanna hear it” he groaned, waving towards you, “This is about Captain Syverson”

“What-?” you muttered, “What happ-”

“Shot” he said bluntly, “3 times. You need to move. Now”

#captain syverson #captain syverson imagine #henry cavill imagine #henry cavill smut #henry cavill #captain syverson smut #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill fics #henry cavill writing #herny cavill x you #geralt of rivia imagine #geralt of rivia smut #geralt of rivia

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court-of-forever-undone · 3 years

Text

My Sister’s Love | Taryn POV

Chapter Three

Summary: Taryn pieces together her memories of Cardan and Jude’s early interactions as she reflects on how their relationship came to be and the events of the last year. As happy as she is for them, she can’t help but feel jealous of the moments they share.

Tags: Taryn’s POV of Jude x Cardan, Final Part

Read on AO3

After that dinner, we found Jude awake in her old rooms sitting with Tatterfell and Oak. For a moment, it was easy to pretend nothing had happened. She wore one of the black gowns she favored since becoming seneschal and was eating from a tray in front of her. But as she turned to face us, the wince she failed to hide and the paleness of her skin were reminders that she had nearly died just days ago. Her hair had been braided to mimic a crown, which was another reminder that my sister was not the same twin I had known.

Before we had a chance to talk, Cardan appeared. He likely came straight from his rooms, after finding them empty. Every fiber of my being wanted to grab Jude’s arm when Cardan asked her to join him, but I saw the dusting of pink spread across her cheeks as she saw him in the doorway, so I stood there silently. Jude would have probably ignored any word of caution coming from me anyways. We still had yet to fully come to terms with everything that happened between us.

When it had been hours and Jude had yet to return, I went to the royal chambers to see if she had gone straight there, but instead, I found Garrett.

While Jude had at least recovered some from her near-death experience, Garrett looked like the ghost of the beautiful sandy-haired boy I had met before. It might have been a funny observation given his code name, but all humor was lost in the moment. He had lost weight and his face had sunken in. When our eyes met, I saw the plea in them before he opened his mouth.

The next few hours were a blur. When Jude finally arrived at Hollow Hall, I was surprised to see she had allowed Cardan to come along. Cardan had proved he would follow my sister into the heart of an enemy war camp, despite better judgment, but this time Jude had chosen to invite him along with her.

After I commanded Garrett to stop, cursing myself for not thinking to do it earlier, we moved to a parlor room and I explained how we had come to know each other through Locke’s carelessness.

We discussed the events of what Garrett had done at Locke and Madoc’s command. It turned out that Garrett had been the one to shoot Queen Orglah. Even if he had been commanded to do it, Nicasia and the seafolk would see him as a traitor and demand that he be punished, which meant his life was entirely at the mercy of Jude and Cardan. I couldn’t help but see the resemblance to my own situation.

When Cardan made a comment about me lurking around the palace, I revealed that I had no intention of going anywhere until I knew that Jude would be safe. Our relationship may be strained, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t make up for my actions.

Cardan wore an expression that showed he was tired of this conversation. “Jude and I had a misunderstanding. But we’re not enemies. And I am not your enemy, either, Taryn.”

As a faerie, I knew he couldn’t lie, but that didn’t matter. Maybe he didn’t think of us as enemies, he could still think of us as toys.

“But you think everything’s a game. You and Locke.” His name tasted like ash in my mouth.

“Unlike Locke, I never thought love was a game. You may accuse me of much, but not that.” Cardan shared softly.

The air in the room shifted as Cardan's gaze fell upon Jude, who refused to even look in his direction before quickly changing the subject.

For the first time, it was not just me who was drawing a comparison between our loves. While Cardan’s words came out more as a confession to Jude than a taunt at me, the words still stung. Locke had thought love to be a game. But Cardan, the cruel, spoiled prince did not think love was a game.

How had I believed Locke was my future?

In the carriage back to the palace, Cardan broke the silence by asking about some of the things he had seen on his way to Vivi’s apartment. Most of his questions were about the dishwasher which had been running in the apartment, how mortal mailboxes worked, how secure they were in protecting incoming mail, and what slushies tasted like.

By the end of the ride, I couldn’t help but laugh at his questions which seemed so trivial given the circumstances we all found ourselves in. When we were alone I turned to Jude, who was barely awake on her feet.

“Do you trust him?” I asked. It was the question that had been gnawing at me since our return.

Jude thought for a moment before sighing. “Sometimes,” she responded.

It was enough to make me warn her. Did I think Cardan loved her? Yes. But was Cardan trustworthy? It was hard to forget the years of our childhood together that suggested otherwise and if Jude who had gotten to know him closer than any of the rest of us questioned it, then it was probably best not to.

I had been blinded by my love for Locke that I trusted him to take care of me. I didn’t want the same to happen to Jude, even if seeing them care for each other made my heart ache with envy.

____________________________________________________________

In the days leading up to Madoc’s arrival, all of Elfhame seemed to be on alert; waiting for something to happen. Whispers that bordered on treason could be heard on the grounds and it seemed that everyone had begun placing bets on the outcome of the meeting. It seemed that many of the Folk had questions around the legitimacy of a human queen and the chance the High King’s army stood against a Redcap led army.

Madoc would stop at nothing to get what he wanted. Vivi, Jude, and I all knew that. I did not have to attend strategy meetings to know they were facing a serious threat.

Amidst the preparations for possible battle, the whole castle seemed to note the change in the High King and Queen’s dynamic. For one, their marriage was now common knowledge, but more than that there was a closeness between them that had never been there before.

At first, it was not-so-secret handholding and shared looks at mealtimes. Once at dinner, Cardan made a joke about the dangers of in-laws and Jude rolled her eyes before letting a real smile show.

Then, rumors began to spread that a servant had walked into the royal chambers to replace the bedding and apparently caught the two in a compromising position even though they were supposed to be in a war meeting.

I was doubtful when I first heard, but I even overheard some council members complaining about how they missed when the two bickered all meetings instead of ditching meetings to sneak off together.

The new development had only lasted a matter of days, so I hadn’t figured out if it stemmed from a need for distraction given the impending situation or if the two had formed a more intimate relationship since Jude’s return to health.

The look of devastation on Jude’s face after Cardan transformed suggested that whatever their relationship entailed, Jude had begun to share feelings for him that went beyond hate or tolerance.

When Cardan snapped the blood crown, the air turned stale and the ground hardened. I couldn’t tear my eyes off of Cardan, as his body seemed to melt and twist into the monstrous snake.

The ground shook as the snake moved through the room headed straight for the sword maker. By the time Grimsen was swallowed, I was being pushed deeper into the castle by the flow of the crowd desperate to get to safety. I only got a glimpse of the horror on Jude’s face before she was completely out of sight.

By the time I finally saw her later, I saw the tear stains on her cheeks and the exhaustion behind her eyes. I wondered if she was mourning Cardan or perhaps she was coming to terms with her own future. If Cardan could not be saved, Jude would likely not last long on the throne. The lower courts might seize the chance or the undersea would. That is if our father didn’t dethrone her first.

For the first time in months, I thought I might be able to understand her again. Like me, her husband gave her a level of security that was uncommon for a human in Faerie. While Jude may try to say her motivations for marrying Cardan were different from me marrying Locke, I don’t think they were. They were both motivated by power and protection.

I married Locke for protection in Elfhame. My position as his wife also gave me a degree of power I never had before. Jude married Cardan to become High Queen. She could have become the most powerful knight alive and still not have been afforded the same level of protection she has as Cardan’s queen. While we may have had different expectations for our marriages, both were strategic.

Madoc taught us that it is harder to hold onto power than it is to gain it. It is even harder to hold on when it is just you. Together, she and Cardan had a chance at maintaining the throne, but alone the chances were slim.

I may have lost almost every privilege I had as Locke’s wife, but Jude had a lot more to lose without Cardan; including her life.

In his absence, the happiness that Jude showed disappeared entirely. When she wasn’t in meetings, she could be found in the destroyed throne room and truly seemed to mourn him.

I recognized some of her pain, though her situation was different of course. I knew what it was like to feel the suffocating sense of loneliness. After all, I had gone months without hearing from my sisters or my parents, all while stuck in a relationship that was on tilted ground from the start.

I knew the pain of losing a partner. Locke died by my hand, but it did not stop the mixed emotions that came after. In the instant I decided to act, I lost any promise of a safe future in Elfhame.

We both knew what it was like to be humans in Faerieland; powerless to watch as the monsters closed in from all sides. In a land where the food, wine, a dance, and a simple conversation could be disastrous, only she and I could truly understand the deep fear that every day brought.

When the day came to bridle the snake, my sister looked magnificent, powerful even. She looked every bit the part of High Queen. But behind her cold, fierce look, I noted the inner turmoil that plagued her.

No one had any ideas on how to save the High King. Therefore, her future came down to if she would decide to wield the snake as a weapon or not. With the serpent, Jude would have had a chance to hold her position on the throne. Without Cardan, she would likely lose everything.

If power was the only thing she wanted, it would have been a simple choice. Jude would have found the snake and ruled as the murderous queen that some fae refer to her as, for as long as she could. She hesitated though. After she dressed in Mab’s armor, she paced back and forth while she chewed her bottom lip, as she does when she is nervous or thinking. She didn’t know what she was going to do.

It was that morning that it became obvious that my sister had loved Cardan back. It was more than lust or a political arrangement. They both could claim their marriage had been strategic, and it might have started that way, but there was love between them. A love that kept her from using Cardan as a weapon.

They played their games and hurt one another, but when the other was in danger they shared the same look of desperate determination to save them. The look on Jude’s face was the same as Cardan’s when he came to Vivi’s apartment; desperate, sad, and determined.

____________________________________________________________

When Jude returned with a naked, bloody, Cardan I could not believe it. The impossible had happened.

Within a matter of hours, the palace managed to throw a feast in honor of the High King returning. I dressed quickly and made my way to join in the celebration with my siblings and Heather. Tatterfell told us that Jude would join us shortly.

At the height of the party, I spotted a familiar face trying to keep out of sight near the edge of the room. I left my spot near the musicians table and made my way towards him.

“Hello Garrett,” I said as I stopped next to him, taking in the room from his angle. Vivi, Heather, and Oak were still eating at one of the long tables. The crowd parted suddenly, so it was easy to spot Jude and Cardan as they made their way to the dancefloor.

“Taryn,” he replied with a smile.

Neither of us spoke for a moment as the kitchen servants brought out more desserts with a level of fanfare that matched the king that was being celebrated.

“Are you on king and queen duty this evening?” I asked with a nod to the direction of the dance floor.

Garrett shook his head and laughed, “Technically, I am always responsible for their safety, but I sense that the king and queen don’t wish to be followed.”

I looked back only to notice Cardan leading Jude behind the dais and out of sight.

“Then, perhaps you would like to dance?” The words slipped out before I could reason why it was a silly idea. Before I could regret my words, he offered a soft smile before extending his hand.

I let him sweep me onto the dance floor, trusting him to stop me before my feet wear out. I don’t know if it was the way his face lit up when he laughed, or because he is a member of my sister’s court of spies, or because I could command him at any time (not that I ever intend on using his name), but as we twirled and laughed together, I felt safe.

The feeling was a bit ridiculous. My future was still entirely unknown. I had a baby growing inside me, still needed to stand trial, and had no way to support myself.

Technically, both Garrett and I had committed crimes punishable by death, but at least for the evening, I was happy to share the space with him.

We stayed on the dance floor together until the sun streaked in through the windows.

____________________________________________________________

On the day of the tribunal, I could not help but tremble slightly. Cardan’s promise floated in my head, but I would never fully believe it until I was officially declared innocent. I could not believe that Jude would punish me too harshly. After all, she hated Locke for what he did, so I couldn’t imagine she was upset by my actions. At the same time, she also hated me for what I did, so it was hard to guess her thoughts.

I took my time getting ready until it was finally time to make my way to the throne room. I quietly entered and found my spot in the crowd before glancing up at the dais.

Together they sat. Two enemies who had somehow fallen in love. They had risen together through everything that had happened.

Jude made Cardan into a respectable king and Cardan made Jude queen so no one could overlook her power again.

Cardan invited me forward and in a clear voice, he granted me everything he promised. I was innocent and my child and I would inherit Locke’s titles.

I walked back to my seat and felt the weight of the last few months fall off of my shoulders.

With the ruling, I let myself imagine my future; something I had not done since the night I drove the letter opener plunge into Locke’s neck.

I had made regrettable choices in the past, but I had been given a fresh start.

I had hated the way my sisters had loving relationships, but now it was what I hope to find for myself.

I want a love that is more than security or protection or fun. I want to be with someone who encourages me to be more.

I am not in a rush to find love again. I have my child to raise, my relationships to repair, but if my sister’s love taught me anything, it is that love can happen in the most unlikely of places with the most unlikely of people.

#taryn pov #jude duarte #cardan greenbriar #jurdan #jude x cardan #cardan x jude #the folk of the air #tfota fanfic #jurdan fanfic #taryn duarte #the queen of nothing #the wicked king #the cruel prince #taryn and jude duarte #the duarte sisters #the cruel prince fanfiction #taryn x ghost

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9tzuyu · 3 years

Text

dissolve (rewrite)

natasha x reader

note: this was just a huge vent fic idk. these type of fics seem to be the only thing im okay at writing. mistakes are mine as always. but i did proofread, yay!

if you want to read the original (as awful as it is) you can read it here!

wanrings: this heavily revolves around eating disorders.

i’m not tagging anyone because the content isn’t really the lightest to read.

words are used everyday, everywhere – whether to describe something or someone. there’s thousands upon thousands of them.

so you were having a hard time figuring out why you were struggling so much to justify your feelings through the basis of words. it was unnerving, draining and very annoying. your emotions should be simple, right? you were either sad or happy, angry or scared. but there was something more, something unexplainable. saying you felt alone only scratched the surface of the wave of emotion that took over. it was excruciatingly painful, far worse than any physical pain you ever had to endure. and for some reason it seemed to come crashing down at night while natasha slept peacefully. you weren't exactly sure how to express your emotions to the extent you felt them. how else was anyone supposed to understand your pain? they couldn't, not unless they could somehow shift into your body and feel your emotions themselves. but that was merely impossible as such powers do not exist. so you were inevitably stuck with words foreign to your lips. over the years you were deemed unsafe, a hazard, "an accident waiting to happen" you recall one doctor say. everyone’s eyes were on you at all times, monitoring every little movement you made. it was suffocating and at times doing more damage than good.

as an adult now you learned how freeing it could be without the fear of gaining weight or eating a bowl full of rainbow marshmallow cereal. your worth was not defined by your weight.

(at least that's what you believed prior to any relapses.) everything was going well in your life. you were a college graduate working as a psychiatric nurse and you had found love, something your teenage self could only dream of. natasha was by your side through everything. and really, the only downfall in the relationship was that she had to travel a lot for her job. but you were secure enough in your relationship not to worry or decide to call things off. in the end natasha always made up for it when she came back, so you couldn't complain too much. things were going well for you, really, they were. until they weren't. (and you didn't know why.) it happened out of nowhere. work was a little more stressful than usual, but it was nothing you couldn't handle. natasha had been away for three months, only stopping by a few times to check in on you. but again, your wife being away for so long wasn't anything new or worrisome. the two of you had followed the routine of her leaving and coming back more than a thousand times; yet somewhere along the way you lost yourself. food became less of a priority, your hunger decreased drastically, and within the first month you'd lost thirteen pounds. it truly was an accident, slipping into a full blown relapse was never part of the plan. but thirteen pounds lighter you wanted more, to feel small again. you didn't have an answer as to why you became so attached to your eating disorder, but it didn't seem like it would be letting go any time soon. the rate at which you were going natasha would most definitely be able to see a difference; not only on your weight, but in the person you once were. she'd ask what happened and why it happened, poking and prodding for an answer, but you didn't have one. so here you stood in the kitchen of your shared home, a cup of sliced fruit in one hand and your cell phone in the other. you poured the fruit into the bottom of a blender along with a spoonful of yogurt and half a cup of soy milk. another half cup of ice followed suit. while the fruit blended, you shamelessly scrolled through your instagram. there was nothing interesting going on in other people's lives, you didn't even know why you had social media in the first place. it was dumb, and quite frankly you didn't give a shit whether or not sharon went to the beach. the sound of your blender coming to a halt brought your attention back to the real world. you poured your smoothie into your water bottle. the green liquid would be your breakfast and lunch for the day - dinner was still up for debate. a soft sigh left your lips. work was beginning to feel more like a chore and less of something you enjoyed. you were quickly growing tired of it. nonetheless, you grabbed your keys and rushed out of the door.

you thought about the irony of working as a psychiatric nurse with an undealt eating disorder telling teenagers how to deal with their own issues. you felt hypocritical to say the least, especially given that all the nasty side effects were starting to make themselves known.

your hair was beginning to thin, small clumps of it already starting to fall out when you tugged a little too hard. bruises could be seen scattered left and right on your body, and you were cold. god you were cold. your fingernails were tinted blue, warmth seemingly too far out of reach. you looked ill, and it didn't go unnoticed by your coworkers.

a few hours into your shift you found yourself sitting behind the nurses station filling out paperwork. lunch had passed and when your coworker, steve, asked if you were going to eat something you lied straight through your teeth, telling him you'd grab something when the patients were eating dinner.

but steve rogers could read you like an open book. he knew you were lying because he already knew what was going on. the signs of an eating disorder were quite obvious when you were a licensed therapist. and despite your futile attempts at hiding it, everyone could tell something wasn't right.

steve played it by ear for weeks until he contacted natasha, but by then you'd already lost a considerable amount of weight. as soon as she heard the news, natasha booked the next flight home. unfortunately for her though, there was only one flight and she would have to wait two and a half weeks before being able to leave.

you didn't know it, but those were the longest two and a half weeks natasha ever had to wait.

– patients were having group therapy, so you could tune them out - not that you should, but it was hard to focus when the only two things you could think about were food and your weight.

the need to lose weight sounded so stereotypical for someone with an eating disorder, but honestly it wasn't about that. it was never about wanting to be thin. you genuinely didn't know why this was happening. the only thing you noticed was how rewarding it felt seeing the number go down, as if for you were good for becoming less. it was addictive. and it didn't help that you based your entire worth on how much you could lose.

the next time you stood up from behind the nurses station steve met you in the the cafeteria. while the patients ate you took occasional sips from your smoothie. the bottle was still full of its contents from the morning. you had completely forgotten to drink it during the day, but you didn't seem to mind it that much.

the surprise touch of steve's hand on your shoulder startled you.

i am gross, you thought. do not do that.

steve caught onto the slight flinch your body produced as a reflex, but he didn't say anything about it.

"you can leave early, boss said so."

he laughed as he saw confusion plaster your face.

"what? no!"

"go home, seriously. we have this handled. you know tony doesn't like being told no."

you bit your lip, puzzled by the sudden request. most people wouldn't mind being sent home early, but all it did for you was give you a level of anxiety reserved for food.

what you didn't know was that natasha was home waiting for your arrival. she came back just short of an hour after you left for work.

while you were gone natasha made a few thorough rounds in the house looking for key signs of your eating disorder. there was bound to be evidence given that you didn't know she was home.

unsurprisingly, natasha found a glass scale beside the counter of the bathroom floor along with empty bottles of laxatives in the trashcan. the food in the fridge had been expired a few days past their date, giving her the indication that you weren't eating as much as you should be. her concern grew even more when she found your food journal on your nightstand. flipping the pages, natasha could see that throughout the moths she'd been gone your calorie intake had decreased significantly.

guilt began to gnaw at the back of her throat.

during the few days natasha stopped by, she hadn't noticed anything wrong with you. but then again she knew most people with eating disorders were very good at hiding them up until the point they were discovered. three days wasn't near enough time for her to catch onto your tricks, not when her mind was still focused on her job.

natasha always listened intently whenever you would talk about your eating disorder, the first time being six months into the relationship on a date you felt like you had ruined.

but talking about it was much different than experiencing it with you, natasha had never done that before up until now. she read nearly every article there was about anorexia, bulimia, binge eating disorder and ednos. sometimes when you were asleep she would watch documentaries on the disorder, always making sure to keep her volume at a low level.

the videos that hurt her the most were the ones teenagers struggling with the simple task of eating food.

(although natasha knew it wasn't that simple.)

it hurt because she knew that was you at some point in time.

upon your arrival, natasha cooked dinner. she wanted to hold onto the one sliver of hope that steve was wrong - that he was just overreacting - but she knew in her heart he was right about his assumption. however, dinner would only confirm what natasha so desperately wanted to deny.

when you walked through the door you were greeted with the overwhelming scent of food. you cringed at the thought of having to eat, but as soon as you looked up to see the redhead who'd been gone for so long your frown was washed away. a wide smile overtook your face and you rushed to jump into natasha's arms.

"i missed you so much," you whispered. "i thought you'd be gone for another few weeks?"

natasha's arms found their way around your waist as your legs wrapped around hers. "what? i can't come home early to surprise my wife?" you giggled in the crook of her neck. she smiled feeling the vibrations against her skin, happy to know that you'd missed her just as much as she missed you.

she sat you down, back facing you, she tended to the food. "you've lost weight," she commented, not missing the sharp inhale of your breath.

"how was work, nat?"

she nodded to herself. yeah, she didn't expect you to be so open on the first try.

"it was fine. dinner's ready, i made your favorite!" natasha threw a smile in your direction as she carried the plates over to the table. she had hoped to see your face light up the way it used to, but seeing the panicked look in your eyes further confirmed your relapse.

if nothing else, natasha wanted you to have a meal before she brought up the conversation.

"great... i love it, thank you nat!" your attempt at being enthusiastic failed miserably and you knew by the look she gave you, she already knew what was going on.

but throughout the meal, and despite the shakiness of your hand as it gripped the metal fork, natasha didn't say anything.

you weren't really sure which was worse; being confronted or knowing the both of you knew what the other was thinking and still not addressing it.

natasha's meal was good, you couldn't lie about that, but each bite you chewed caused the tightening in your chest to constrict further.

now you couldn't be good. or worthy. or deserving.

nat took away your plate when you were halfway through. she knew your limits, and she didn't want to push you too much out of your comfort zone.

"go change, i'll wash our dishes. meet you on the couch?"

you did as you were told, taking as long as you could to do so. except this time was different. you didn't glance in the mirror like you usually did, you chose to fully take in your figure.

what you saw was not what you expected to see. for the first time in months you saw a version of yourself that wasn't twisted and turned to be something you didn't know was real or not.

your skin was dry, hair thinned out beyond your belief, eyes sunken and dark underneath. the revelation gave you an odd feeling – was once again something unexplainable, unjustifiable by words.

good.

that was how you were supposed to feel, right? after all of this time, after the many pounds of protection and warmth lost, you were supposed to feel good.

but you didn't. and you never would.

there was something so surreal about the realization of your own destruction. you were aware now, which meant you had to either take responsibility or choose to lose everything you worked so hard for.

"y/n?"

your wife's voice snapped you out of your gaze and you scrambled to pile your dirty clothes and rush out of the bedroom.

as you made your way into the living room you could feel the intensity of natasha's gaze. any other time you would not mind her green eyes looking at you, but this time around you felt like you were in trouble.

she patted the empty spot next to her, to which you reluctantly joined. but even after everything you still tried to play it cool.

"what's up? is everything okay?"

she gave a low chuckle, "you tell me."

"what do you mean?"

"oh i think you know what i mean."

natasha’s reply was met with the loudest silence you ever had to sit through.

she bit her lip, "you know i got a call from steve a few weeks ago. he's concerned about you, and from what he's told me so am i."

you were quick to respond, automatically knowing what steve’s phone call was about. "i'm fine. so what if i've lost a couple of pounds? that doesn't automatically mean that im relapsing, natasha."

your quick snap reminded natasha that this kind of confrontation was like walking on eggshells.

she tilted her head, licking her lips. "i'm here with you, always." nat put a hand to the side of your face, gently rubbing her thumb at the top of your cheekbone. "i'm here."

it seemed pointless now to try and say anything because your secret was already out.

your mind began racing back and forth.

you wanted to keep what you knew best and natasha understood that. even by reading your body language she knew what you were debating.

"you know, to keep it you have to give it away." your eyes darted to meet hers. "mhm. you can still have that piece of you. mourn it, grieve it, do whatever you need to do to move onto a stage where it doesn't hurt you. and from there you can help other people, share your experience, let yourself heal by helping others."

she paused, “we all have choices. some of those choices are taken from you while others leave you with only one option.”

although what she said seemed to resonate with you, there was one thing still holding you back.

"i just want to be good."

natasha hummed. you had explained it to her in the past, though your words were jumbled together as you tried to describe it.

"you can be good in other ways. you're allowed to live a life outside of the barriers your eating disorder puts in the way."

you swallowed the lump in the back of your throat. "i don't even know how it got to this point. in january i enjoyed ihop and dennys. in february i could have oatmeal and bananas, sometimes half of a sandwhich if i was feeling brave. now it’s march and i only eat one or two things a day. the idea of having a full meal makes me want to cry. and i just- i don't know how to stop."

natasha wouldn't show it, but your words cut through her heart like a knife. her mind wandered briefly to all the teenagers in the documentaries she'd watched, hoping you weren't too far gone into your eating disorder to ever come back. those cases scared her the most.

"you've got my complete support. you've tackled this before, maybe this time you can beat it? i know its easier to abuse your body instead of growing comfortable in it, but i think you’ve got this. i know you do."

"what about your work?" your question caused natasha to frown. "you think i wouldn't set my job aside for you?" you shrugged, it's not like you felt like you were worth being taken care of anyway.

natasha grew hesitant to tell you her news, but did it anyway because she’d rather you hate her than see you dead. "i've already made some appointments for you. the first one is tomorrow morning."

"i figured you would natasha. it's okay."

you spaced yourself out the rest of the day. each time you made the executive decision to recover, whether that be a genuine recovery or not, the process never failed to remind you that even trying to recover from an eating disorder felt like mourning the loss of a friend who was never good for you in the first place.

#natasha romanoff x reader #black widow x reader #avengers x reader #natasha romanov x reader #natasha x reader #natasha romanoff imagine

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animewhump · 3 years

Text

✨a comprehensive whumplist for d. gray-man!✨

if this doesn't convince you all to watch this anime i don't know what will 😌 i will be reblogging with the d. gray-man hallow list when i am finished watching! the episodes marked with stars are my favorites..

episode 2, allen weakness, fear, panic, injury

episode 4, allen slightly injured and unconscious, kanda seriously injured and carried

episode 5, kanda badly injured and unconscious, allen impaled and spat up blood

episode 11, allen unconscious, injured, screaming in pain

☆ episode 12, allen fainting, serious injures

episode 14, allen unconscious

episode 15, allen fever, carry

☆ episode 17, kanda stabbed, bleeding out, unconscious, caretaking

episode 18, lavi hit with numbing dart

episode 20, lavi poisonous gas, unconscious

episode 21, lavi and allen knocked out, dizziness

episode 44, lavi pass out, exhaustion

episode 46, allen injured, unconscious, sleepy, trapped in avalanche

episode 50, allen repeatedly injured while fighting

episode 53, allen screams in pain

episode 55, allen screaming in excruciating pain some more, some weakness and blacking out

episode 56, allen torture, weakness, bleeding out, near death, pretty much literally everything

episode 57, everything that happened to allen in previous episode played out again with his friends reactions, they believe he is dead

episode 58, allen emotional whump, waking up in hospital bed

episode 59, allen exhaustion, unconscious

episode 62, allen nightmare, pain, weakness

episode 63, lavi almost drowned, coughing

episode 68, allen screaming in pain, collapsing

episode 69, allen weak, piggy-back carried

episode 74, lavi unconscious, injured, weak

episode 79, kanda beat up, weakened, electrocuted

episode 83, allen electrocuted, screaming

episode 86, allen beat up, unconscious, suffocating

episode 87, lavi psychologically tortured

episode 88, lavi mind controled, allen beat up, injured, unconscious, spitting blood

☆ episode 90, allen beat up to unconsciousness again, held by lavi and friends worried

episode 94, allen laying in bed and injured

episode 98, allen knocked unconscious, unconscious and limp for several minutes

episode 100, allen crying and gagging, knocked unconscious again and stays immobile and injured until he falls unconscious yet again

episode 101, allen still injured and weak, lavi and kanda beat up

episode 102, allen heavily injured and at his limit but still fighting

☆ episode 103, allen finished fight and is heavily injured and can't move, barely lucid, has to be carried while crying

#whump #anime whump #anime boy whump #whumplist #allen walker #lavi #lavi dgm #dgm #kanda yuu #whump list #d. gray-man #d. gray man

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skelanonymous · 3 years

Text

Killermare/Nightkiller - Soul Mates

Hey! I finished the prompt person who made a request like a month ago! I literally do not want to even look at this anymore. I’ve been picking away at it all month between shifts and breaks and I’m beginning to hate it by virtue of seeing it too much.

The beginning has been edited and now has some nsfw soul-mating and some after effect scenes!

Words: 6.1K

“Are you sure you want this? With me?” Nightmare wouldn’t meet Killer’s eyes. He stood in front of one of his room’s many arched windows, moonlight shimmering over his blackened form. His tentacles had curled in on him, arms crossed, an uncharacteristic sign of vulnerability that Killer had only seen inside of this room.

“Why wouldn’t I?” Killer, too, let his eternally present grin fall. This matter meant too much, and Nightmare’s insecurity fell heavily on him, on them.

“Isn’t it obvious?”

“I have an idea, but I want to hear the specifics. ‘s important.” Killer crossed his own arms to match, to hold back the urge to touch his moon until he finished his thoughts.

“Soul mating is to share all that you are with another.” Nightmare turned to face out over the darkened wilds his castle oversaw. “It’s to be unified on every level and live as one until we cease to be. I am not afraid of being unified with you myself; I have centuries of existence and a power to shake the multiverse, and while I’m certain that I will be affected by you, as I am even now when we’re separate, I am also sure of my ability to handle it as I have everything else.”

“It’s me you don’t trust to deal.” Killer sighed, frown downturning further. Nightmare whirled around in an instant.

“I trust you with my life Killer.” He hurried across the room to hold his beloved’s face, a concerned eye looking into Killer’s, begging him to understand. “I would not humor this for anyone else, I would not want this with anyone else. To be joined with you is a dream I wish for. But…” His thumbs wiped away the streaks of liquid hate on Killer’s face. “To be joined to me is my namesake. You will know misery on a level you have never known.”

Killer reached up to hold Nightmare’s hands. He smiled with a short laugh.

“I think I’ve known some pretty deep fucking misery Night.” Killer let go to reach out for Nightmare’s jacket, pulling him closer. “I’m not fragile. You worry too much. ‘Sleeping near me might give you nightmares’ and ‘if I lose control during sex, I could hurt you’ and, my favorite, ‘I am the guardian of negativity, I cannot love you back.’ Yet we’re here.” He took a nice deep breath, sinking into the comfort that was Nightmare pressed to his chest. Nightmare’s fingers clutched at his back.

“Not like this Killer, never like this.” Cyan tears welled up, hands vice gripped onto his hoodie. “I am not minimizing your suffering, I have felt it firsthand, but mine is long and continuous. It bores into your soul and lives there. You mention that I have always worried and you have overcome, but yet, I still worry. Negativity is at the root of me.”

His tentacles reached out like more arms. The fear was palpable, flavoring the air and thick on their tongues. Nightmare could never forsake what he was. He could not undo what had been done.

“And to join you with that? I’m afraid of what this could do to you. Will you gain my corruption? Will I lose you like I lost myself for all those years? How much of you must be traded for us to experience this pinnacle of connection?” Night’s words flooded from his mouth, crying bitterly at the thought of turning Killer away, all for his sake. “Every single thing others can have, I must first pay a cost. To just exist without punishment cost my life, my home, my family. And even then, I did not escape punishment, I merely gained the ability to fight back!”

“Nightlight…look at me.” And he listened. Killer tapped his teeth to his.

“Killer…” Nightmare tapped back, kissing him deeply with wet cheeks. The tension of the room could be cut with a knife, Killer could feel it in the line of Night’s back, and he knew how to work that out. When they broke apart, Killer didn’t move back an inch.

“Remember when you confessed?” His voice rough and heavy against Night’s teeth, Killer’s eyes went half lidded. “You looked so shocked, like you couldn’t believe it.”

“I still don’t.” Nightmare’s voice dropped low, shaky but wanting.

“Moon, are you happy, being with me?” Night’s tentacles clutched him tight, Nightmare pressing up tight to him with another kiss, their faces still millimeters apart.

“Of course. Idiot...” His eye glanced wistfully at the bookshelves on the wall, expression serious and hesitant. Killer chuckled softly at the worry. He wiped his god’s tears away.

“Then why couldn’t I be happy joined with you?” Night’s body sparked with magic underneath his fingertips. “If even the god of negativity can be happy with the one he loves, why couldn’t I do the same with a piece of him living in my soul?” Killer licked his teeth, tongue touching his moon’s at this distance, groaning at the catch in Nightmare’s breath.

“You could.”

Killer crushed Night up against him, the smaller hands fisting in the loose blue hoodie in their passion. Kissing Nightmare always got his motor running. His dark tentacles sought out every surface to lavish attention on Killer’s body, three times the stimulation of any other partner and a hell of a lot more interesting.

“Let me have ya then.” His pointer finger slid down the black cheek, catching softly on his jaw, over his sensitive throat, and leaving a hot trail of need down his sternum before halting. Right over Night’s soul. “Mate with me Moon.”

Night reached out slowly for Killer’s soul, always within reach but rarely so bright, tapping the surface with a fond smile. Killer felt the weight of his words resonate across his being.

“Promise I won’t lose you?” Killer grinned widely.

“Promise.” The tenseness dropped from Night’s back, arms slung around Killer’s shoulders with a more confident look.

“Then take me Killer.”

Killer had a slight height advantage, but Night made up for it with vigor. The black fingers pulled at the hoodie, growling when Killer laughed at him for its slow removal.

“My soul’s not inside my ribcage Moonlight. Did ya forget?” He chuckled until Nightmare pulled their faces together again, groaning into Night’s mouth, tasting and teasing the cyan tongue until he felt Night’s fingers loosen. He took the opportunity to run a phalange up from Night’s back to his sternum, tracing a rib. Night broke off to shiver.

“Are you trying to rush?” Nightmare traced the outer edge of the target shaped soul. It snapped into a heart shape for the second go around. “There you are.”

“I just like when ya touch me.” Killer winked, grinding up against Night’s pelvis. Night bucked against the bulge in front of him. He kept rubbing the tiny heart in his hands while Killer nuzzled into his throat to nip and lick at the sensitive vertebrae there. “Fucking delicious. Can’t wait to have ya.” Killer took a deep breath in, lost in the scent of Nightmare.

Night didn’t respond, only kissed the soul in his hands, trying to impart what he couldn’t say. I’m the lucky one. That you want me, it matters more than anything else.

Killer’s mouth licked haphazardly. The warm buzz of emotion from Night seeped into his body, unfurling the little anxieties building in the peripheral of their relationship. Killer put on a grandiose show, playing the part of the cocky bastard to his moon’s calm stoic, but Nightmare very rarely opened up this far. His moon cried less than Killer had fingers on one hand. He spoke seldomly about the past in anything but factual recounts. The fact he’d been so honest, that he could feel that pure emotion through the contact, put him in a drunken euphoria.

“Moooooon, you’re wearing too many clothes.” He pushed the hoodie off Night’s shoulders, caught on his elbows. “Come to the bed.” Killer slid his hands up to hold Night’s hands, soul dropped and returned to its place.

Killer led him towards the bed, but let him go with a sly grin. He stripped off his shirt with a twirl, revealing his ribs with hungry eyes, dropping his shorts in the next moment to persuade his love to do the same.

“Eager, are you?” Nightmare’s voice betrayed nothing, but the slow shrug off of his sweater spoke volumes.

“Already missing that touch of yours.” He gestured to his soul. “I could get off from just that.”

A peace offering, a way to back out, to build to this piece by piece. Night stepped closer to his love leaned back on the bed.

With a determined eye, he skimmed over the bulge of Killer’s cock, meeting Killer’s captivated gaze with ferocity. He only broke it to remove his suffocating shirt.

“Ignoring my needs? What type of mate do you plan to be?” Killer’s eyelights popped into existence while Nightmare seated himself on his lap. “I thought you said you’d never disappoint me…” He almost fell off when Killer sat up to meet him, smashing their teeth together.

Killer dove in, not leaving room for Nightmare to fight back, overwhelming his small lover with how much he could explore with his eyes closed. They were both pantless by the time Nightmare’s senses returned, breathless but alive with energy.

“If you’re feeling needy, we’ll focus on you then.” Nightmare had no ecto formed yet, Killer instead reaching up into his chest for the dark apple soul he’d never been allowed to touch. His hand hesitated before tapping the blackened surface. “Last chance Nightmare.” And when all he got was silence, he took it out and held it up to his face.

Unlike his own soul, the black apple sat calmly in his hand. It had little give, the dark peel a thin barrier to protect it from the outside world, everlasting and unbroken until this very moment.

“Didn’t expect that.” Killer ran his thumbs over the surface, testing the limits of the shell and Night in one swoop. His moon sat unaffected except by a blush.

“I’m sorry it’s not what you expected.” He could read Night’s hesitation in his body language, but not from the soul seated in his hands, its aura as calm on the exterior as its owner. He wanted in. Killer gently bit down on the apple, not wanting to go clean through, but maybe create a little breach. When Night didn’t react, he bit down harder. His ectobody formed instantly, boosting him up on Killer’s lap.

“OooooooH!” He broke the skin, a small cut through the outer barrier. Night hadn’t ripped it away yet, so Killer turned it over until he could work his tongue into the hole.

“KiLLeR.” Night’s thighs tightened on his legs, hips bucking down wantonly while his cyan tongue lolled out of his mouth. Killer kept working and tasting, getting deeper and deeper into the soul. “STARS, Killer, please. Fuck me!”

Tentacles curled up every limb stroking and teasing. They sought out Killer like a moth to the flame, knowing who was pleasing their master, eager to return the favor. Killer appreciated their caress, but focused in on the torrent of emotion pouring into his mouth from the apple. Night’s composure seldom broke outside of the bedroom, and even here, he was not driven to utmost debauchery, often just more openly honest about his desires. Licking directly into his core, Killer could taste how much Night was holding back. He sucked out some of the wet flavor with a slurp.

“God ya want this so bad. Good, me too.” Killer worked two fingers into the break to Night’s wrecked gasps. “My soul can’t fit in here love. Gunna have to make room for me inside ya.”

“I need you inside me, right now.” Night’s tentacles readjusted them quickly for his red cock to slide up and down Night’s already wet folds. “I love you, connect with me, I’ve got so much room for you…” Killer heard the wet squelch of Night stretching himself open with a tentacle in preparation, making his cock twitch in anticipation. He forced his tongue in around the three fingers he’d worked into Night’s soul. His reward was instantaneous.

“AAH!” Night’s knees knocked on his waist, his eye wide and hazy, which Killer took advantage of by pulling Night further onto him and starting to sink into his soaked pussy along with the slicked tentacle still stuffed inside.

“Oh FUCK!” Night’s cyan eye rolled into his skull, trembling apart at the seams. “T-they fit?”

“They sure do.” Killer pulled his soul up to the opening in Night’s. “You ready for the second squeeze?” He flexed his hips making Nightmare scream.

“Stuff me full Killer, hah, please!”

With a gentle push, his soul tapped against the inside of Night’s, the opening worked large enough for the entire thing to fit along it on one side. He watched fascinated. Normal soulmating, you could hold two souls together and they’d combine, no work required but the desire to do so, but he had to try at getting his moon open enough to reach the savory core. They sat against each other for an instant, Killer anxious if he’d gone about it wrong and Night if he could even do this at all, before Killer’s entire soul slid directly inside, combining them in a flash of color.

The red apple hung between them pleasantly. Killer’s eyelights glowed bright as Night’s went deep purple.

“Moon?” The words echoed in his mind, though it felt like he spoke them. He didn’t need to say anything, Night was him and he was Night, but his sudden desire to hear Nightmare overrode logic.

“My darling soul.” Hands rested on his face. Night’s locked eyes with his, faces moving closer, but even an inch felt too far. It was slow deliberate love, that first kiss, the taste of their soulmate for the very first time.

But then Night shifted to get a little closer and the thickness inside him sparked the desire.

That spark quickly caught, burning through both of them with the intensity of sun, each thought echoing between their souls, escalating to a constant hum that drowned out the rest. Night slid forward to take Killer and his own appendage to the hilt. Killer moaned loudly before pulling Night up to his chest with a desperate kiss. He could barely get out any words.

“I love you.” It slurred from his teeth, feeling the tentacle inside of Night curl around his cock to make it stretch out Night wider. “You’ve got my soul inside yours, ya shouldn’t mind if I fill ya with my cum right?” He thrusted experimentally; Night wailed and slid down to meet his hips. His purple blush complimented the wrecked expression, staring into Killer’s eyes like a lifeline, before nodding with a broken moan. “Fuck you’re perfect.”

He started slow. Night winced at the end of the thrusts and Killer wasn’t so far gone as to not notice; to the contrary, he had never been more aware of his moon. The sound of his voice breaking on Killer’s name a symphony, the taste of his love’s tongue a banquet, all his senses awakened at the sight of his gorgeous soulmate. And through the bond, he could feel Night’s agreement.

“Please, please, please!” Oversensitive and at the emotional limit, Killer could feel his peak rapidly approaching, speeding up to slam into Night, clapping their ecto together between lewd pants and groans. He dropped his sweaty head against Night’s shoulder.

“God Night, come for me!” Night’s pussy clamped down tight with his orgasm. Killer rode it to his own finish.

“Fuck!”

He slow thrusted through it, filling up Night with his red magic, sliding against each other with pleasant bonelessness. They fell back onto the bed in their embrace.

“Killer…”Night’s head rested on his chest, one hand rubbing over where he could see Killer’s cum inside himself. Killer felt tears drip onto his ribcage.

“Nightlight?” He cradled Night’s head. He held him tight, Night nuzzling his chest with the rarest of expressions.

“Thank you.” The genuine smile, soft and sweet, hit Killer right in their combined souls, overcome with their combined joy. He had it so bad. They readjusted to separate, sharing soft continuous kisses, settling into the blankets with unmatched contentment.

“We look pretty good together.” He stroked a finger over the red apple, both trembling with a soft sigh. “Can’t get rid of me now. No take-backs.”

“I can think of no better partner for eternity.” And that deep honesty flustered Killer. He hoped he’d get to see more of this side of his beloved moon now that they were one. Being one in all forms had unlocked more of himself than had existed before, parts he would adopt from Night starting to click in as extensions of his soul. Something dark ate at the back of Killer’s mind, but combined like this, it was held at bay effortlessly by Night’s calm thoughts and breathing.

“Let’s get some rest Nightlight. We have the rest of our lives tomorrow.” He pulled up a sheet to cover them, and placed one last kiss on Night’s teeth.

“That we do.” With their combined souls hanging between them, they slipped in restful sleep.

Killer woke up late. Looking around, he realized he’d been moved from Night’s bedroom to the study. He sat up (appropriately though not fully dressed) on the lounge that Nightmare had scooted closer to his desk.

“Good afternoon. How are you feeling?” Killer felt strangely apprehensive before realizing that the feeling wasn’t centered in his body. The immediacy lessoned the longer he thought about it, though the intensity of that wariness kept ratcheting up while he tried to speak.

“Is that you?” The sudden break in relief caused emotional whiplash and a spike of discomfort.

“Yes. My apologies, I wasn’t reigning in my reactions.” The normal calm came back, with a background fluttering of too many emotions to name. “It should be more manageable now.”

“Wow, I must be bothering the fuck outta you.” He laughed at the tinges of worry, indignation, and relief in turn. A glance at his own chest revealed only his own soul. They’d separated when sleeping it appeared.

“Always.”

“Wow, this is what you’re actually feeling?” Each emotion felt so distinct and different, the deep fondness manifesting as a touch to the cheek and a soft smile, the yearning a waltz across a marble floor, remaining a respectable distance but waiting for a moment alone to close the distance. So caught in this tide, he didn’t notice the tentacle resting along his back.

“Yes. I hope you could see through the sarcasm beforehand. But focus for a moment.” The appendage slid up his spine, Killer shivering. “I’m syphoning my power out of you by force, but once I break contact, you will be hit with whatever my corruption has done to you.”

“Still worried?” Killer grinned with a tilt of his head, shit eating smile not calming Night in the slightest.

“I didn’t want you to wake up in whatever state this will put you in. There’s a difference from knowing it’s coming to waking up overwhelmed.” Killer rolled his shoulders to ready up, taking a few breaths before nodding confidently.

“Hit me with it Nightlight.”

The instant the words left his mouth, the weight of the corruption fell on his back. He gasped, choking on the weight of the atmosphere, hate spilling out of his eyes. His soul pulsed heavily, weighted and overwhelming, drowning in a pit of self-loathing and anger that he almost couldn’t see through.

He fell off something. His hands scrambled along the floor, colliding with something that Killer clawed at until he was sat up again.

He trembled violently, bones clattering against his leverage. Sounded familiar though. Where had he heard it before? He focused on the sound to anchor himself in the moment, reflecting on it until the answer came to him suddenly. Nightmare’s desk, he’d had sex on enough times to remember the way wood sounded banging against bone.

Nightmare! He’d been with him before this.

Killer heaved in a few gulps of air. If he reached out with his magic, he could feel him, dark and powerful not too far away, and that helped get through the worst of the panic. The calm washed over him like soothing rain. It soaked into his joints until he laid back against the wood, completely still.

Amidst the black came a single bright ping of light. Hope lit in his chest like a lamp, illuminating his eyelights, finally able to see.

Feelings were too overwhelming to speak, but his staticky pupils stared at his moon’s face.

Nightmare forwent his usual propriety, his normally impassive face scrunched up in unease. His cyan pupil took in every movement, any motion or emotion he could see. Every tentacle hovered around him worriedly, barely restrained from touching Killer to sap the feeling away. He felt Night’s palms on his. He gripped them back with a tired grin.

He could see Nightmare trying to speak, but his ears hadn’t caught up to him yet, still roaring with the stress his body had gone through. He tugged on Nightmare’s arms, toppling the king to the ground into him. Pressed against his chest, he felt better already.

Oh look at his cute soulmate. God he loved him.

Night had been knocked down to kneeling over Killer’s collapsed form, sitting in his lap with flushed cyan cheeks, all right in reach of Killer. Night really should know who he was dealing with by now.

Killer kissed him fully, hands trailing to his shoulder joints to get his moon to huff and let him in. It felt incredible, their magic tongues sparking up pure passion between them through the bond. The fog from the shock of Night’s power was clearing, getting further and further away the more he touched his precious mate, measured in the volume of sounds finally reaching him. By the time they broke apart, Killer had his mind back enough to speak.

“I told you. You worry too much.” Killer grinned, eyes closed and amused. He nuzzled Night’s cheeks with his own. “If you think I was handsy before, you won’t be able to handle how much I want ya now.”

“You’re incorrigible.” Nightmare surged up into another kiss. The magical connection pulsed alive in their souls, swept away in the insatiable urge to be closer to each other. So enraptured that they only halted when they heard mumbling to the side.

“I’m not interrupting them Papyrus, they’ll take a break eventually…” Dust didn’t even flinch when their eyes snapped over to him.

“Didn’t take ya as a voyeur Dusty!” Killer laughed. Nightmare stood quickly, but didn’t move to take his place behind his desk.

“I suppose you’re reporting in on your latest assignment in Fellswap.” Night could compartmentalize like a pro, his face blank and unaffected in moments while Dust relayed his findings calmly. Killer had envied Night’s ability to sort away emotions and reject them, choosing to feel them instead of being overcome, but now that he had a direct link behind the facade, he found himself awed at his moon’s composure under enormous influence.

Calmed by the impromptu make out session, Killer searched inside himself for what was new.

The parts of the bond that came from Nightmare felt shiny, not like the pieces that had always been there. He could feel those rotting things from his own past had been broken in, worn to match the rest of him, unlike that which was added. Killer visualized Nightmare’s power like a tiny galaxy living in him. Dark and expansive, powerful and captivating, it crooked a finger at him to indulge in the negative in himself and in others around him. He could pull on it, indulge in the poisonous vapors, become more powerful in an instant.

Tentacles slithered over his arms, lifting him carefully but pulling his back flush against Nightmare’s chest.

“Now where were we?” Night’s voice rumbled through the both of them. Killer stroked each appendage and licked the corner of Nightmare’s mouth.

“Almost to the good part.”

He was level 20. Right hand of the terror of the multiverse. Mated to the god of negativity. He’d killed plenty and taken what he wanted his entire life.

Killer shut the power out of his mind. He’d take it in stride and learn to tame the damn thing. No need to throw away his sanity for more power than he already had, especially not at the cost of his moon.

One stray hand to his pelvis and the thought was gone.

“How do ya deal with the cravings?” Killer’s hand clenched around his knife, breathing through his nose in metered breaths. Blood red magic ran from his mouth where he’d bitten his tongue at the last second.

“I indulge when it is safe to do so.” Night watched cautiously from the door to the training room.

“And when’s that?” Killer curled in on himself.

“Moments like right now.”

He and Horror had been sparring, just like normal, taunting back and forth, when the corruption had reared its ugly head mid-sentence.

“Can’t keep up? Maybe that’s why you couldn’t feed Pap-” Killer instantly ate his own words, teeth cutting clean through his tongue before Horror could do anything in retaliation. He didn’t even block the attack Horror had started. They weren’t fragile, god knows that they had tougher skin than most, but there were lines you did not cross, and Killer had sprinted straight past them without looking back. He hadn’t moved since.

“So you’re feeding off my fuckup? At least that’s something.” His shirt was wet against his sternum, stuck and soaked in the front, sticky and thick on his fingers tearing into the fabric.

Nightmare pulled down, sitting beside him on the floor. Every limb hovered over Killer’s form. Times like this, he almost detested Nightmare’s superior control, unable to see beyond that carefully neutral face and the wall Nightmare could pull between their bond with ease.

“I cannot help my nature. That doesn’t mean I wished for this.” Nightmare folded his hands in his lap, a picture of patience. “He has already forgiven you.”

“He fucking shouldn’t. I knew what the fuck saying that would do.” Killer sneered at the floor. Black dripped down to mix with the crimson staining his clothes. He was such a piece of shit, giving in like this was his first damn rodeo, like he’d never had to exert ANY fucking self control! He fell forward until his face met the floor.

“You’ve only had this power for a few weeks. It takes time.” Killer could feel his tentacles tentatively soothe him at the edges, pokes and pats soft enough to be shaken off should he decide to run. “I’m sorry.”

Killer’s eyelights flicked on at the tiny pulse of sadness. Night could hide a lot, but powerful swings couldn’t be hidden from your soulmate.

He turned over to stare at his moon. His face looked steady as always, but knowing the emotion beneath gave it away. Night met his gaze evenly, but his eye had gotten soft, rounded on the edges. If he looked closely, tension pulled Night’s arms taut, elbows pressed too hard into his lap, tiny tremors in the forearms from pushing his stress to a hidden place most wouldn’t notice. Really seeing it had Killer shuffling up to sit again.

“Moon, I don’t regret anything. I’m mad at myself but not at this.” He sought out Night’s folded hands, grasping them with his dirtied ones. “The only thing directed at you is that you still keep hiding from me.”

“It’s...a lot to handle. You already feel overwhelmed, so I…”

“I get to decide when it’s too much Nightlight. Tell me how ya really feel.” The revulsion from his actions faded away, patiently waiting for Night to let down the wall.

It dropped all at once, a dam cracked open over his psyche, Killer awash in a million emotions, many that didn’t have names but ate at him sharply. Another piece of him soaked it in, eating up all Night’s doubts and self-loathing with glee. Killer flinched.

“It feels weird as fuck to like when you’re upset.” Killer scrunched up his face. “I prefer you smilin’. Or moaning.” He gave Night a saucy wink. His reward, a light peal of laughter, lit his soul up like a glowstick. Night cupped his wet face with a soft smile.

“I’d like that too.” A chaste kiss melted the dark atmosphere away, Killer left besotted in the wave of fondness from his lovely moon. “I will always feed on the negative, but in this, I gain strength from our love too.” He hummed softly at Killer’s enamoured look. “In sickness and health, my soul.”

The kiss was warm, but not drawn out. They were still in the training room after all.

“I guess I should clean up and apologize to Horror. Even if he forgives me, don’t mean I don’t have to apologize.” Killer stretched back. With a swing of his torso, he landed on his feet. Night stood to join him, resisting the urge to take him elsewhere for soft reassurances. “See ya tonight light?” Killer stuck his tongue out.

“It isn’t optional.” Night pulled him forward with a single hand by the collar of his hoodie. “I’d hunt you down if you tried to stay away.” His seductive smile made Killer purr.

“Hunt me down then Moonbeam. I look forward to it.” The pleasant shimmer of emotion under it all warmed his bones as he walked to his room for a change of clothes. Killer caught a glimpse of the hall mirror, taking in his wrecked appearance with little concern. With each day, he owned more and more of this new darkness, and one day soon, he’d have eternity left with Night. He flexed his arms to rest them behind his head.

“Now where is Horror?”

“Take Horror and get the fuck out of here.” Killer swung his blade through an ink stream. It deflected off to the side, narrowly missing Dust, who had Horror up over his shoulder.

“You can’t take Ink and Cross alone idiot.” Dust had started to back towards the exit anyway. He’d save two skins over one any day.

“Don’t need to take ‘em. Boss’s on his way, just gotta run out the clock.” His grin widened as he turned back to his opponents. The liquid hate began to pour from his sockets, dripping onto the floor, starting to puddle into pitch black pools. He slid his knife under the waterfall to coat it in the black sludge. “And I’ve gotten better at taking my time.” When he stepped forward, Cross stepped back.

“What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’re afraid.”

“Not a bit.” Cross’s stance shifted to put his blade between them. He kept readjusting his grip on his weapon, anxiously preparing for whatever new tricks Killer had up his sleeve. “I’m not so easily shaken.” His white eye went gold.

“I don’t think that’ll make that much of a difference.” Killer flipped his knife with ease, taunting his favorite punching bag of the Stars. Internally, he checked his balance to dodge positivity arrows. “Whatcha gunna do? Stare at me?”

Cross swung confidently in a forward dash. Killer jumped out of the way.

“I’ve got positivity on my side.” Killer almost laughed, but a shot of ink missed his face by an inch.

“And a little help!” Ink chuckled, setting himself up around the edges of Cross and Killer’s spar as inconvenient back up. Killer blocked a direct attack, focusing his energy to spread the corruption over to Cross’s blade at point of contact. The gold eyelight flickered until Cross whipped back.

“What the hell did he do to you?” Cross curved the sword to smash into the ground with a grimace. The sludge cracked and crumbled off.

“It’s better than the nothing Dream gave you.” Killer stuck out his tongue, enraging Cross into re-engaging.

Cross hadn’t gotten much better. His stamina had increased, drastically so, but so had Killer’s, that wasn’t making the difference. Cross stepped into the sludge pool, sliding off balance. Killer pounced on the opening. The back up ink stream caught his shoulder. He growled at the shot of pain but poured that feeling into his spark, bouncing back before Cross could even react.

Even the help wasn’t making that much of a difference. Cross just wasn’t messing up as much as usual.

Cross had always left openings in his attacks, and Killer exploited them, which upset Cross, which made him fuck up more, which made him an easier target, ad naseum until he kicked his angry, self loathing ass. Looks like he’d gone and gotten with Dream to get over himself. Well mostly, because he was still fucking up, but each success powered the positivity and that weakened Killer now, even as his own worries ate at him. It was the world’s worst snowball effect. Too absorbed in his own head; he found himself backed into a wall.

“Look who’s cornered now?” Killer hated that smile on Cross. Well, he’d either have to take a scalding or a slice to get out of this. He leaned back to push out of the corner after the swing.

“Try not to get my face. Boss’ll have no eye candy at the castle.”

“Well we can’t have that.” The sight of the tentacle gripping Cross’s knife made him swoon.

“W-what?” Cross’s eyesight dimmed back to white with Night’s touch. “How’d you get here so fast?!” Nightmare tilted his back towards Ink.

“Killer.”

“Yes Boss.” He took off towards the painter like a bolt, powered by the Night’s aura and the dread Cross eeked over the battlefield. He listened to Nightmare’s talk while easily keeping Ink busy.

“The better question, Cross, is why Dream has not come to save you. Are you just not worth saving?” He’d wrapped Cross in his tentacles, the spark of positivity being drowned out by the overwhelming panic, much tastier than normal loathing. “Did you think you could take him alone? Did you doubt that I’d come to defend what’s mine? Or is it...you can’t call him?”

“I can call him!” But no one came.

“Don’t forget who I am. I am not easily deceived.” Night’s satisfied smile drilled into Cross’s mind. “Such a pity. He mates with you but doesn’t tend to your spark. What a waste.” He tightened his hold on Cross, wincing at the tightening pressure. “Killer can call me from any corner of the world if he chooses. He can wield my gift. You were left with nothing but the promise of feeling better, while I raised my mate higher.” Night manipulated Cross to stare at him in the eyes. “Dream truly does not understand his own power, and, by extension, you.” Condescending and conceited in turns, though Killer could feel the pride beneath.

“You and Killer?” He’d barely gotten it out before his eyelights blanked.

“Not your concern.” He’d seeped most of Cross’s strength away before throwing him towards Ink disdainfully. He broke off his fight with Killer to look over at the limp offering. “I suggest you get him out of my sight. I will not spare him a second time.” Night turned away from the crumpled heap, wrecked traitor gone as soon as Ink grabbed him.

“If I said I wanted your body now, would ya hold it against me?” Killer held his arms wide open. Nightmare walked directly into them, not even waiting until Ink had fully portaled, kissing his mate fondly.

“Have I told you that you can be insufferable at times?” Killer laughed so hard he could hardly stand up straight.

“I know I’m your favorite. No need to say anything.” With a hand to guide Night on his chin, Killer angled into another kiss, soaking in the love and affection from his moon as easily as he had his worries and troubles. Nightmare rested easily between his arms, happier than Killer had ever seen and proud beyond measure of HIS soulmate.

“I love you. You are, indeed, my favorite.” He leaned into Killer’s chest. “Now, how about we go home for some preferential treatment?”

“Moon, you just read my mind.” Killer wrapped an arm around Night’s waist, sliding the other hand along his arm until he had Night’s clasped off to the side. A perfect dance pose, Night shaking his head with fake exasperation, straightening to press against him. The portal whirled open somewhere behind them. “Let’s waltz on outta here.” Night laughed.

“Lead the way Killer.”

He grinned and waltzed them right through the portal, to home.

Thank god, it POSTED.

#killermare #nightkiller #story time #soulmate AU

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a-edgar-allan-hoe · 4 years

Text

The Red Witch

Jasper Hale x Reader part 1

A/N: I might turn this into a series with my OC.

Summary: Imagine being an immortal witch from the Middle Ages and being the previous love of Jasper before he was turned. You two were separated under certain circumstances and cross each other’s path once again, years later in the present era.

A/N: I could be doing this wrong for all I know. I haven’t seen the films in a long long time so feedback is greatly appreciated. 😭 And I really wish this app gave you the ability to add a read more link.

Warnings: none

Part 2 , Part 3 , Part 4 , Part 5

It had been a quiet and chilly yet peaceful morning that day in the newly opened little bookstore coffee shop that you owned with your best friend Melanie. You were currently organizing the antique books in the antique section, running your fingers along the smooth binding and humming along to the soft 90s rock that played through your shop while the warm aroma of coffee with hints of caramel and hazelnut filled your nostrils. Standing back to look at your finished work, you picked up your warm cup of coffee and took a sip, closing your eyes and letting out a sigh in content as the buttery drink warmed you up against the chilly morning breeze that slipped through the front door.

“You’re late.” You call out jokingly, holding your coffee mug close to your chest with one hand in the pocket of your black jeans as you walk towards the entrance to see your best friend Melanie walk in.

“Late?” She raises her brow at you as she takes off her brown wool coat and sets her belongings under the counter near the register.

“By a minute.” You quirk, finishing up your coffee before slipping on your black gloves and adjusting your dark green velvet sweater that hung loosely around your torso.

“Ooh. A minute.” Melanie rolls her eyes playfully as she starts to set up the register.

You smile to yourself at her response and tie your apron around your waist, throwing your hair in a bun before walking over to the front door and flipping your sign to open.

“It’s a brand new day.” Your friend pipes in as you stare out the window, gazing out at the fog blanketing the green trees and the morning dew that covered the flowers outside your window. Your eyes followed the few cars that drove past, some of them probably going off to work or for an early breakfast. You enjoyed the days like these, the cloudy, misty days where the suns rays barely peeked through, adding a slight glow to the scenery.

It had only been a couple weeks since you and Melanie had first opened this shop in the small town of Forks, Washington. You needed a break from the busy streets of London where you grew up, which is why you moved to the US with her years ago. You had actually met her when she was touring London years ago and you two became joined at the hip ever since you discovered you both were witches. Her being a green kitchen witch and you being, well it was much harder to explain to her what kind of witch you were, since it was rare and even shunned in most covens due to the harm it caused to others. You were in fact, a blood witch. But being a blood witch came with a curse, and that was the ability to cause death and decay to anyone you touch. Which is why you wore gloves and prevented any form of physical contact. But Melanie didn’t care about that part of you and put all that aside and welcomed you with open arms, without touching your bare skin of course. You two had lived in California for some time before she finally convinced you to move down here to Forks with her.

“You seem happy today.” You hear Melanie now beside you, gazing out at the scenery as well with her hands in the pockets of her pumpkin orange curdory pinafore, her sapphire floral print sleeves rolled up at her elbows and her hair tied up with a yellow gingham scarf.

“I am. It is the peace and serenity to thank for.” You smile to yourself. And it was in fact what you longed for, for a long long time.

You both returned to your work stations shortly afterwards as you started to get your regular customers. Thankfully, so far everyone has been kind and welcomed you two to their town.

“Another chai latte for you Mrs.Garcia?” You asked the elder woman that came in with her big bag of knitting supplies as she came up to the counter.

“Oh yes please, my dear.” She answers with a chirpy voice, her eyes wrinkled at the corners from her smile as she hands the money to Melanie while you make up her drink.

She took her drink from your hands and wobbled over to a chair in the corner by the window. Setting her things down and beginning to knit on a little sweater she’s been working on for her grandson.

An hour passed and you greeted all your customers with a smile. Some of them would grab their coffee and go straight back to work, while others stayed for a while with a coffee in one hand and a book that they purchased in the other.

Everything was as sound as it could be until someone new stepped in your shop, someone you had never expected to see. You had your back turned, working on a cappuccino for a customer as you heard the individual order a black coffee and a vanilla latte from your friend. You stopped short, something seemed off. It felt as if the world came to a stop around you and you couldn’t seem to picture why. You turned around to hand the cappuccino to the previous customer before shifting to greet the person that just came in. As you took in the sight of the man across you, you felt your body freeze up. You couldn’t move a muscle from the shock as you stood there with your eyes widened and your mouth agape.

Jasper?

You wanted to cry, to scream, but nothing came out. It felt like someone currently had a rope around your throat, suffocating the air out of you. The man turned to you now, a few strands of his blonde hair falling out from behind his ear and in front of his eyes as he stood to take in your appearance. His eyes, the same eyes that used to look at you with adoration, ones you once remember as being the color of the forest were now a yellow gold and devoid of any emotion towards you. And his skin, once tan from his days being spent in the Texas sun, was now stripped of all color and left pale, like a blank canvas.

So it’s true. He was turned.

His eyes searched your face, confused at your shocked expression as you still stared at him like a deer in headlights.

For goodness sake, don’t just stand there, say something.

“Are you alright miss?” His voice brought you out of your daze, forcing you to grip onto the counter to prevent yourself from collapsing.

“I’m uh, uh, yeah, I’m I’m fine, sorry.” You stutter out, struggling to find the words to say.“You uh, um you just. Sorry, I-I thought you looked like someone I knew. Must be the hair, sorry.”

You let out a panicked laugh and place a strand of your hair behind your ear, trying to avoid his gaze as you bite your lips to prevent them from trembling.

“Pardon me, but do I know you miss?” He furrows his brows at you.

If you didn’t know any better you’d think he’d recognize you. but he didn’t, he couldn’t have, and oh did your chest tighten in pain from this.

Jasper felt a slight pull in the back of his mind upon seeing your face, something told him that he knew you, but his mind kept drawing a blank. And yet the swirl of emotions that you were currently feeling was altogether much more confusing for him.

“You’ve probably just seen me around town.” You give him a convincing smile, “I moved here not too long ago.”

“Oh, I suppose that could be it.” He smiles politely with a slight nod. “Welcome to Forks then.”

You give yet another awkward smile before turning back to the coffee maker to prepare his 2 drinks. You were so caught up in his presence that you failed to see the smaller woman now walk up to him, linking her arm with his.

“This is a nice little place isn’t it Jasper?” You heard her speak to him in this angelic voice.

“I believe it is darlin.”

Darlin. He used to call you that.

“I also found a book that I might like to read.” She shows him the cover of an old book to which he smiles at.

You silently watched the couple from the corner of your eye. The way they held each other and gazed into each other’s eyes.

He used to look at you like that.

You were nearly trembling now as you had your back turned to them, your eyes threatening to shed some tears. You took in a deep breath, forcing you to compose yourself as you turned back around to place their drinks on the counter for them to grab. You didn’t dare try to hand it to him directly, you feared that the brief contact of your fingers might be too much, and that you’d explode into a pile of misery in front of him. And you didn’t want that.

You managed to take a good look at her this time and my goodness was she gorgeous. She was ghostly pale as well, which was a stark contrast against her dark hair. And she had this pixie like aura about her that you couldn’t help but admire.

“Thank you sweetie.” The woman beamed at you, both of them grabbing their drinks before leaving out your shop with their arms still linked together.

You watched them leave out of sight, your knuckles turning white from gripping the counter. You wanted the world to open up and swallow you, leaving you in an abyss, far away from the world and the people in it. Jasper Whitlock. You never thought you’d hear that name again, much less see the man himself. And you never thought it would hurt so much to see him again before you, without a clue in his mind as to who you were.

A/N: Part 2???

#jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight imagine #twilight imagines #jasper hale x y/n #jasper hale x reader #jasper hale x you #jasper hale imagine #jasper whitlock imagine #Jasper Whitlock x reader

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dialovers-translations · 3 years

Text

DIABOLIK LOVERS Para-Selene Vol.5 Sakamaki Laito [Track 4]

Original title: 信じられるもの

Source: Diabolik Lovers Para-Selene Vol. 5 Sakamaki Laito [CD not owned by me]

Audio: Here (37:53~53:32)

Seiyuu: Hirakawa Daisuke

Translator’s note: Laito talking about his true feelings for the MC is honestly A+ content. As much as his HDB route disturbs me and the whole ‘nfu~’ thing doesn’t do it for me either, I have to admit that Laito is probably the most complex and interesting character of the franchise. (Or at least in the top 3) because the plot of his CDs is always so good. I had high hopes for this one since the Para-Selene series is generally very good and thank god Rejet did not disappoint me. uwu

Track 1 ll Track 2 ll Track 3 ll Track 4 ll Track 5

→ LIKE MY TRANSLATIONS? SUPPORT ME ON KO-FI!

Track 4: What I can Believe

*Rustle*

“Nn...Mmh...Where am I...?”

You look around, asking if he recognizes the room.

“...Haah...It’s the guest room. At a certain castle in the Demon World.”

You tilt your head to the side.

“Right, I guess you don’t know. The words you spoke to me here...What I wished for... ーー And how I was changed forever.”

*Rustle*

“You can’t recall, you can? Even though this most definitely would count as an impactful memory. I guess my existence is only worth that much to you, huh? ...Just kidding. I suppose I’m in no position to say that as the guy who was just messing around up till now. First I was pushed around by your memories, and now my own memories are doing the exact same. Laughable, isn’t it? I feel like a clown.”

You frown.

“Say...The Paraselene Syndrome can be...cured, right?”

You ask him what the Syndrome is specifically about.

“A disease caused by the Paraselene also going by the name ‘Paraselene Syndrome’. It’s the name of the illness you’ve been infected with. As far as I know, those infected lose their memories during the time the paraselene is out. These lost memories turn into hallucinations, affecting anyone who happens to be near, locking them into an illusionary world. Therefore, the illusions will end once the person regains their memories. However...I forgot one important detail. What if...they don’t remember?

Laito takes a seat on the bed.

*Thud*

“Haah...Nobody ever told me that is impossible. You might forget about our time spent together forever. As we are stuck reinacting past memories for eternity. Hilarious. I was out here getting sidetracked by the pleasure in front of my eyes, without realizing just how dangerous this situation we’re in really is. Even though that isn’t the kind of fun I’m looking for.”

You sit down next to him.

“Fufu...What’s gotten into you? Taking a seat next to me like that. Are you feeling pity towards me, perhaps?”

You express your worry.

“Pfft...Fufu...Fufufu...I can’t understand that. Why would you be worried about me? To your current self, shouldn’t I be someone you’d wish to avoid at all costs? Because unlike you, I do remember everything. How much you disliked me when we first met, for example. Hmph. Yet, in the end, you found yourself caught in my grip as I slowly but surely worked my way into your heart. (1) ...Hilarious, don’t you think? It truly is laughable. ...At one point, you’d even start saying you ‘love’ me and I tooーー ...I finally realized that I felt the same towards you.”

You listen carefully.

“But the person I love isn’t the one you are right now...It has to be my Bitch-chan...”

You tell him you’ll try your best to remember.

“Hmm? Are memories really something you regain through effort alone? Although if you claim you’re willing to remember for my sake...”

*Rustle*

“...You’d still cooperate with me, even if I were to try and kill you, right?”

Your eyes widen in fear as he pins you down.

*Thud*

“...An intense experience. Those can become the trigger to regaining your memories. Do you know what that means? That your memories are more likely to come back, if I treat you horribly. Can you truly entrust yourself to me, when you’re looking at me with eyes full of fear like that?”

You nod.

“...!! Ah...Why...? That’s pure hypocricy. You’re simply pitying me.”

*Rustle*

“...Don’t get too full of yourself. You don’t even have memories, so how dare you say that!? Right now, you’re just pretending to be a Saint! The moment your life is in true danger, those sweet words will most definitely turn ugly and rotten.”

*Rustle*

“You’ve got such a pretty neck. I’d probably have no trouble squeezing it shut. Like this...”

Laito starts strangling you.

“...You poor little thing~ Gasping for air~ Is it suffocating?”

*Rustle rustle*

“Fufu...Fufufu...I don’t intend to kill you or anything. I’m only waiting for you to reveal your shameful true nature. Aaah~ You seem to be suffering.”

*Rustle*

“Woah there...~ That was close. You can’t faint on me now, can you? ...Fufu~”

You take a deep breath.

“Exactly...You should use this opportunity to take in as much air as you can. Because soon enough...You won’t be able to breathe again once more.”

Laito kisses you deeply.

*Smooch*

“Ahn...Mmh...”

*Smooch*

“...Fufu~ The inside of your mouth is completely dry. Should I moisten it up with your blood? It feels good to get sucked from your tongue, you know? Haahn...”

He bites your tongue.

*Sluuuuurp*

“Mmh...Hah...! Haah...Ah...It tastes delicious, mixed in with your saliva. Aahn...”

*Gulp*

“Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp*

“...Hah...Say...? Don’t you think it feels great to have me suck your blood while you’re struggling to breathe? With your consciousness growing faint, doesn’t it feel like the pleasure is slowly travelling through your entire body?”

*Rustle*

“Look at you slouching...~ You’re not throwing in the towel already,are you? I mean...You were going to regain your memories because you just felt so bad for me, no? In that case, you have to go all the way. ...Or do you want to run away after all?”

You shake your head.

“...I wonder why you’re this stubborn. I don’t exist within your memories. And your body is shaking like a leaf. I can’t imagine you would do this out of any other reason but hypocricy. ...Or were you simply left unsatisfied by this? In that case, savor it with all your might. The pleasure I give you, that is. Well then...I suppose I should suck from your chest next...~?”

*RIIIIIIP*

“Ah-aaah...Look at that expression of yours. How shameless. ...Say, why don’t you try fighting back like before? Come on. Hurry!”

You refuse.　

“Kuh...! Why...are you trying to accept me? Not a single one of your memories have returned, so why are you pretending as if you know me!?”

You explain that his situation hurts you emotionally.

“Why are you experiencing heartache over this? There’s no reason for you to be suffering...The one who is hurting...is me! ...Exactly. It hurts. Very much so...I want you to love me from the bottom of your heart...”

You suddenly embrace him.

*Rustle*

“...Ah! ...Bitch-chan...? Are you sure it’s safe to do this...? You can’t guarantee what I’ll do when you embrace me like this, right?”

You tell him you want to trust him and learn to love him once more.

“...!! Those are...some very dangerous words to speak right now. (2) ...You’re going to make me believe that you will accept me for who I am, with or without your memories. Say...Can I believe in you? Will you truly...love me?”

You nod.

“Ah...I feel the same.”

He returns the hug.

*Rustle*

“Bitch-chan...You truly are a strange girl. You are probably the only one...who can rouse my emotions this much.”

*Smooch*

“...Does your neck hurt? ...I’m sorry. I grabbed it too tightly. Will you let me make it up to you...? I’ll blow your mind with pleasure...Haahn...Mmh...”

Laito bites you once more.

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“...Ah~...”

*Sluuuuurp*

“Starting to feel better? I’m sucking you gently after all. ...Nfu~ You’re making a cute expression. ...You like it when I drink your blood from here, don’t you? Mmh...”

*Rustle*

*Gulp*

“Ah...Nfu~ I knew it. I can tell just how good it feels for you from the slightest twitch of your fingers, you see? That proves just how many times we’ve repeated his action. Mmh...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

“Bitch-chan...Hold my hand...”

You hold his hand.

“I’ll pour my heart and soul into you. So...Give me your feelings too?”

You agree.

“Mmh...Thank you...”

*Gulp gulp gulp*

*BZZZZZZZZZZZ*

*WOOSH*

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

Translation notes

(1) Literally he says that she slowly had her heart melted by him.

(2) Laito uses the term 殺し文句 or ‘koroshi-monku’ which is a ‘clincher’ or a ‘pick-up line’ in English.

#diabolik lovers #dialovers #laito sakamaki #diabolik lovers paraselene #diabolik lovers translation #diabolik lovers drama cd #drama cd

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yeojaa · 4 years

Text

finders keep hers, iii.

read parts one and two! the long awaited conclusion! i’m sorry it turned into a friggin’ novel. i hope it does the first two parts justice, though. these kids are... idiots. i love them and you (and also the best beta reader @hobi-gif)! 💖

pairing. jjk x named f!reader. rating. explicit, ofc. tags. this is... really soft at certain parts. and then really raunchy at others. oops? but fr - mainly fluff with some smut at the end. you might need a filling. wc. 5.4k.

You’re buzzed into the building without a moment’s hesitation, the kind concierge with the gummy smile and greying temples beaming at you as you enter. “Nice to see you, Miss Lee.”

“You too, Mr. Choi.” A grin of your own is offered, gym bag hiked higher over your shoulder as you pause to chat. You’re in no rush. “Is he home?”

“I don’t believe so.” The sudden look of disapproval that colours the older gentleman’s features is almost comical, reminiscent of a disparaging parent. It’s the same expression you’re greeted with nearly every time you visit. “He left in a town car yesterday afternoon and I don’t think he’s been back since. That boy’s going to get himself in trouble one day.” As if Jungkook didn’t already - as if it didn’t follow him around, glued to the bottoms of his Italian leather shoes.

“Tell me about it.”

“You know…” There’s that twinkle in Mr. Choi’s eyes again - the one that tells you he’s about to repeat the same words he always does when he catches you alone. “A nice girl like you could get him to settle down.”

Your response is what it always is - a scoff and a laugh rolled into one. It careens off your tongue, ringing in the spacious lobby. “I don’t think anyone will ever get him to settle down.”

How true that is, you’re not sure. For your sake, you try not to think about it too much.

The old man is undeterred though, shrugging his narrow shoulders beneath the neat uniform he wears. It’s a little loose in the chest but immaculate otherwise, tie knotted in a classic Windsor and collar ironed perfectly. He levels you with that shrewd stare of his but says nothing further, simply engaging you in an unspoken staring contest.

Sometimes, you wonder how much he sees. How much he knows .

You break before he does, tearing your gaze away and blinking rapidly. He laughs, full bellied and deep from the chest. “Get on upstairs, Miss Lee.” You aren’t offended by the dismissal. “It’s always nice chatting with you.”

You remind yourself to bring him chocolates the next time you’re by. The ones with hazelnuts, because those are his favourite. A fact you only know because you’ve helped your best friend pick up a box for him every Christmas, writing the card and having him sign it right before it gets left behind the desk.

Actually, you helped Jungkook with a lot of things. Always had. It was simply the nature of your friendship - passed down by your parents and forged stronger by childhood playdates, your fair share of teenage squabbling, and college hangovers so bad they’d created an unbreakable bond.

Whenever he would need you, you’d be there - whether that meant picking him up at 4 AM from the airport because he wanted “some shitty fast food and to see you” or helping him pick gifts for Mother’s Day. There was no task too small, no moment too inconsequential.

Unconditional love, they called it.

It’s why you have no problem swanning into his apartment with the extra key you’ve had since he moved in, kicking off your trainers and tucking them neatly alongside the rows of black leather and expensive sneakers.

You do so much for him that you take where you can, indulging in all of the luxuries you’ve never been afforded. Unparalleled view, stupidly expensive toiletries, a damn jacuzzi tub .

You pull your sweater over your head - truthfully, one of Jungkook’s from college that you’d never felt inclined to give back - and toss it over the back of a barstool on your way into the guest suite. Your bag follows shortly after, deposited at the foot of the bed that exists as a rotating welcome mat to your and Jungkook’s circle of friends.

The rest of your clothes - sports bra, shorts, thong, socks - are stripped, folded, and tucked into the laundry bag you keep handy. You know you could leave them here and Jungkook’s housekeeper would take care of it, but you’ve never been too comfortable with that. Different upbringings.

The spray is like sweet relief the moment you step beneath the rainforest shower. It’s the perfect temperature and pressure, melting the sweat and tension from your bones.

But it isn't why you’re here, so you make quick work in the glass enclosure, scrubbing your body bare and lathering and conditioning your hair into a squeaky clean mess. Any other time, you’d just spend a good half hour standing beneath the head but you’re feeling particularly indulgent today.

Call it a spa day, courtesy of one Jeon Jungkook.

You don’t bother to dry off, water splashing across the floor as you step from the shower and sink into the spacious tub that overlooks the heart of Seoul. Diptyque bath oil encapsulates the room in a bubble of sweet almond, similarly branded candle burning on the ledge. The jets release a steady stream against your tired back and legs, massaging your limbs into jelly.

You can’t help the sigh of utter relaxation that rolls off your tongue, sinking into water in the same instance your shoulders do.

This is what dreams are made of. Anyone who says differently is an idiot and a liar.

“When are you going to tell her?”

You’re not expecting the voice and it breaks the silence like a thousand pound weight, shattering the calm and nearly startling you enough for you to knock your head on the edge of the tub.

There’s no reason for you to be surprised. Not really. This isn’t your home, after all. You aren’t entitled to any sort of privacy.

It doesn’t matter, though. The discomfort in your chest is unfolding regardless, lodging rocks in your throat.

Because it’s a female voice. Lilting, soft, draped in familiarity. Not someone brand new.

Your heart stutters at the realisation. The rush of blood against your eardrums is so loud you momentarily wonder whether they can hear it all the way in the living room. They must be able to - it’s practically deafening. You can’t even hear the rest of their conversation.

Their conversation .

Which seems to have ended, leaving only silence.

You suddenly remember your shoes, your sweater. Traces of you littered throughout the apartment that isn’t yours. God, you’re an idiot. He was going to kill you - or she was. You’re not sure which is worse.

You’re reaching for the fluffy white towel on the rack when you’re scared near half to death yet again. This time, by your best friend who cuts an imposing figure in the doorway, broad form resting casually against the frame. He looks surprisingly unbothered, curls pushed back from his forehead by a pair of sunglasses and arms folded over his chest.

“Jesus!” The shriek comes four octaves higher than it normally would, pitching into the open so loudly you wince. “You scared me!”

You can’t help the way you peek past his shoulder for a sign of the girl he’d brought home.

“Enjoying yourself?” There’s something amused dancing in the darks of his eyes, his mouth curving around the same emotion as he steps into the bathroom. You’d be bothered if he were anyone else, unnecessarily long legs carrying him to you in three strides.

“I didn’t know you were home.” You can’t quite meet his stare, still far too distracted by the mystery woman. Had he left her on the couch? Maybe his bedroom as he snuck you out? What excuse could he come up with?

“Didn’t know you were home either.”

He’s made himself comfortable right on the ledge of the tub, marked fingers dragging lazily through the still-scalding water. He doesn’t seem terribly in a rush. That puts you on edge.

Was he going to hide you in here?

“I wanted to relax after my run.” You don’t owe him an explanation - not really - but you offer it anyway. You figure you need to, when you might’ve ruined his Sunday morning romp session. You can’t bring yourself to address it, though. The words just won’t come, sitting on the tip of your tongue like thorns. It hurts to swallow.

Jungkook doesn’t further the conversation - a first for him. He’s normally a chatterbox.

The silence stretches on. Suffocating.

You force yourself to speak, staring down at your hands that are slowly pruning beneath the water. “Should I… go?” The way it comes is feeble, soft, uncertain. You hate it.

By the look of surprise on his face, he does, too. He cackles suddenly, like a goddamn witch. “Why?”

Heat floods across your cheeks. You wish you could blame it on the bath or the steam that still collects on the mirrors. It pulls high over your ears, colouring them tomato red and embarrassed. Surely, he knows why.

When he repeats himself, it’s harder, without any of the laughter from before.

Rather than answer, you wave a hand through the air, fingers wiggling. The universal sign for you know . It should be enough - you hope it’s enough. Your ego won’t let you verbalise it.

“Suddenly mute, baby?”

It isn’t quite mocking - teasing, maybe - but it stokes the fire that burns in the pit of your stomach and licks uncomfortably at the organ in your chest. You don’t even look at him as you nearly spit the words, petulant and far more bothered than you should be. “You’ve got a girl here.”

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, swathed in velvet and coloured blue. The effort you make to not shoot him a glare is herculean.

He’s still snickering when he speaks. “You mean my sister?”

“Your sister?” It’s more surprise at yourself that has you whipping to look at him, bewilderment tossing all other emotion out the window. Because his sister was practically your sister. How had you not recognised her voice? You feel silly all at once, the embarrassment from earlier fading into reticence.

“Yeah. I spent the night babysitting the twins.”

You sometimes forget how much Jungkook loves children - especially his sisters’. It’s hard to reconcile the family man he effortlessly transforms into when he spends most of his waking hours playing the perfect part of unaffected bachelor.

“How are they?” You ask because you care - you adore Minseo and Minhyuk - but also so you can move the conversation along. The last thing you want to do is dwell on your mistake.

“They’re good. Getting big.” He’s got that smile on his face - the one that’s softer than any other, with deep lines at the corners of his eyes. Reserved especially for the people he cares about most. Your favourite sight. “You can come with me next time. Minnie asked about you, anyway.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest.

Being liked by peers? Great. Being respected by your superiors? Rewarding. But being loved by children? It was in a league all its own - better than ice cream on a hot day.

“Sure.” You can’t keep the grin away.

That is, until he speaks again, circling the conversation back. “So, were you jealous?” His ability to piss you off is uncanny. It’s like it’s written into his genetic code, each molecule of his body tasked with ruining your day.

“No.” It’s meant to be a scoff. It’s not very believable.

“You sure, princess?” The fingers on your chin are wholly unnecessary - he’s got you caught in his stare, locked in place with nowhere to go.

“Yes, Bunny .” You know how much he hates the nickname, only tolerating it because it’s you. You can’t deny the pleasure that comes at the sight of his jaw tensing, muscle jumping in agitation. Just as he’s your weakness, you’re his, too. “Now let me finish—”

He cuts you off, sharp and unrelenting: “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get out of the tub or I’m pulling you out myself.” Risen to his full height, he’s an imposing figure. Even worse, there’s something you can’t read in his expression - something that has your nerves firing wildly. Your heart rattles around in your chest, uncertain.

He leaves you without another word.

You scramble out of the bath as quickly as your confused limbs allow you, knotting the towel beneath your arms. You’re not quite sure what to do next, caught between pulling your clean clothes out of your workout bag and demanding an answer from your sphinx of a best friend.

What the hell was his problem?

Your impatience wins out as you’re tugging a brush through your hair, fumbling uncharacteristically through knots until you’re too frustrated to continue. You’re ready to tear into him when you storm out of the guestroom; you’ve got a barrage of insults on your tongue, proverbial gun cocked and ready to unload.

They melt away when you spy him on the couch, neatly wrapped bouquet laid across the coffee table.

“Come here.” It’s not a request so much as a demand - commanding and soft all at once. A small part of you wants to fire off a rebuttal; that part dies when he repeats himself, louder this time.

The seat you take beside him is begrudging, a good foot of space held between your bodies. You fiddle with the hem of your towel, turning a loose thread over and over your index finger.

“What?” It’s snippy, discontent - kerosene on the fire that burns beneath Jungkook’s skin.

“Watch it,” he retorts, though there’s no acid to his words. Frankly, he sounds more frustrated than angry, more exasperated than pissed off.

That makes one of you.

Only he can bring out this side of you - brusque and biting. “ You watch it, Bunny.”

Fingers find the bridge of his nose, a gesture you don’t see very often. Guilt blooms behind your ribcage as he rubs at the tension between his eyes. For someone who has it all, he looks like he’s a moment away from losing it.

“You’re a brat, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you retort, not unkindly.

“You’re making this really hard,” he snaps in the same instant he all but throws the overwhelming bunch of flowers at you.

You nearly drop them you’re so surprised.

“What are these for?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Did I stutter?”

If you weren’t so busy studying the arrangement of florals, you’d have some witty comeback. As it stands, you’re preoccupied by the pretty bunch of peonies and tulips. You wonder what he’s done wrong - why he’s found it necessary to soften the blow with your favourite flowers.

Your thoughts drift back to his sister’s words: when are you going to tell her?

All at once, you want nothing more than to leave. You don’t want whatever heartbreak is about to come. You’re not ready for it.

“Listen—”

He cuts you off, again. “I love you.”

You’re not sure how your face looks. You imagine you could look up flabbergasted in the dictionary and you’d find a photo of your expression right now. “What?”

Jungkook won’t quite look at you, intently focused on an indiscernible point against the far wall. When he speaks the words again, they’re full of uncertainty - but not in the way you expect. The confession is as believable as any you’ve ever heard - he really does sound like he loves you - but somehow, it’s draped in dread and held aloft by hummingbird wings. “I love you.”

He’s nervous, you realise in amazement.

“Come again?”

He meets your stare then, brow knitting with unease. He doesn’t say it again, though.

“Are you messing around with me?” You don’t mean it how it comes - a little accusatory.

“I’m not an asshole.” Except both of you know he certainly can be. You don’t call him on it, though, opting instead to peer curiously at him, hands fisted around the bouquet in your lap. “I talked to my sister. She…” He shrugs once, an almost helpless roll of his shoulders. “She told me I was an idiot.”

You’re not surprised by that. Lina had always been the one to give it to him straight.

“She said I would lose you if I didn’t get my shit together.” There’s a bit of childish petulance that works its way into each syllable - he hates being told what to do. “Said I needed to tell you or I’d regret it. Which is stupid, because we’ve been best friends forever and she’s younger than me so what does she know—” He must realise he’s rambling, something he never does. “But—”

“But?” Quiet, hopeful, coaxing.

There’s a warmth in your chest - illuminating and golden and so bright it hurts to think about. It grows with each moment that passes, spurred on by the look in his eyes and how they find yours.

Hesitation pulls the silence a beat too long. The light wanes. You wonder if the moment has passed.

And then he continues, a little more earnestly. “Was she right? Am I going to lose you?”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s asking. You don’t think he even knows what he’s asking. You try to answer anyway, as honest as you can without pinning your heart directly on your sleeve. “You’ll never lose me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Did you? “You’ll never lose me.” You’re the one repeating yourself this time, just that bit harder.

“Then say it.” Again, not a request. A prayer, perhaps. Ardent and needy - a world away from the Jeon Jungkook you know.

You don’t hesitate. “I love you.”

He doesn’t either - upon you so quickly you don’t have time to blink or think.

How he kisses you now feels different. More . It’s like being consumed entirely - changed from the inside out in ways you never thought possible. Where he touches, sparks fly, filling you like stars in the night sky. Lava rolls over every inch, dragging heat and want and need from the soles of your feet to the tip of your nose. You’re gasping rather than breathing, clawing against the front of his shirt and twining your fingers into the strands that curl over his nape.

“You never told me you could kiss like that.” It’s lacking coherence, made by a partial inhale and wild, wondrous eyes.

His response is a laugh and another kiss, forceful and adoring and utterly devastating. “Shut up,” he mouths against your lips, tongue licking over your teeth and gums like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you. Hands follow in the same amorous motions, tugging and pulling and aching for you closer; the tips of his fingers sear white hot heat over your hips, the small of your waist, the delicate bones of your ribcage.

“I’m serious...” You really are - far more than you should be. You’d been missing out on this ? It’s incomprehensible.

The sound he makes is more of a growl, playful and resounding in the cavern of his chest. It rattles your own, sending your heart on a downward spiral into the pit of your stomach. His nose traces the column of your throat, soft lips guiding him further until he’s mouthing hotly over the bare skin of your shoulder. Tongue teases, delves ever so gently into the dip of your collarbone, and swipes back up, laving over the maroon that peeks around the edge of his teeth. You can’t help but keen, holding him so closely you wonder if you’re suffocating him.

“So am I.” Each syllable is punctuated by another nip, another nibble. It seems like his goal is to bloom roses across your skin - a wreath to welcome him home, made by his own touch.

You don’t mind.

“Say it again,” he demands, hopeful and unashamed from his place against your neck.

The admission comes easily, as if it’s always lived on the tip of your tongue. “I love you.”

“Again.” You’re not ready for the way he stares at you - like he’s never done before. Like he’s seeing you for the first time and he’s awestruck. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Hands find the familiar contours of his face, thumbs brushing over the hollows of his eyes, over the beauty mark that sits front and centre beneath his lip. Each graze follows a repetition of the confession, as if you might burn the three simple words beneath his skin - write it into his DNA like he’s written into yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Bunny .”

He holds you close - so tightly it feels almost as if he’ll crush you - and captures your mouth again. It’s more gentle but just as lovesick. A thousand unspoken words spill from his tongue to yours, swallowed whole with greed you don’t bother to hide.

“I need you.” It’s whiny, framed by a pout that could end wars and paired with doe eyes so wide and innocent you almost want to roll your own.

“You have me.”

“Do I?” There’s a very deliberate roll of his hips, denim of his jeans rough against the exposed softness of your inner thighs, hands manoeuvring over the partially covered swell of your hips. The press of his fingers is purposeful, digging tension into every inch. As if he might transfer some of the unadulterated need that thrums through his veins, turning his heart to jelly and brain to mush.

“Since when do you ask?” You have a point.

“You’re right,” his grin is almost lazy, drawing over his mouth in a measured crawl. “Good girls just do what they’re told, right?” His grips tightens almost imperceptibly, holding you to him almost effortlessly. You’ve been in this position a hundred times before but it’s never been this easy - like breathing.

The gasp you offer is all mock affront, hand laid palm-down across your chest. You don’t miss the way his gaze follows it before ticking lower, unabashed in its admiration. “Are you saying I’m not?”

“Don’t know, baby.” The war on your neck has resumed, teeth traded seamlessly for the softer promise of his tongue, the dry brush of his lips. It’s almost sinful, garnering sighs of affection and need from somewhere low in your throat. “Want to be a good girl for me?”

You’re not quite used to this version of him - playful and needy and not nearly as demanding as usual. A part of you wants to draw out the side of him you know is there, hidden just beneath the surface; the other wants to bask in this, all feather soft and cotton candy sweet.

“Always,” you return, with a coquettish smile and fluttering lashes.

“Always,” he murmurs, tasting it for the first time. He sounds almost giddy when he repeats it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. You think it’ll come again, laughter rolling off your tongue as you stare into the eyes of the boy you love. Instead, he speaks in a voice full of gravel and grit, all traces of your sunshine boy suddenly swallowed whole by the darks of his pupils. “Fuck - I can’t wait to have you.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?” You don’t need to push him. You like to do it anyway. It feels right .

“You’re the worst.” What Jungkook means is you’re the best and I love you and I’m going to fuck you six ways into next week . What he means is this is the scariest thing he’s ever done but it’s all right because he has you. What he means is thank you - and how he shows it is through worship.

On the way to the bedroom, he crowds every inch of you, holding you so closely you wonder if he’s trying to carve himself into your bones. He’s firm and unrelenting, balancing you against his chest as he smothers every available inch of your shoulders in sweet, sloppy kisses. He revels in the way you cling to him like you’ve never needed anything else.

In his bed, he lays you out and strips you bare. He offers devotion with every pass of his fingers, every trail of his tongue. He wants you so badly it’s hard to focus on giving you everything you deserve, but he tries anyway. He sucks love into your neck and over your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers until you’re panting and he’s aching for the same treatment.

On his knees, he prays at the altar of your body, taking his time to map the constellations on your skin, the memories written into each scar and dot. His tongue follows the raised flesh that sits across your hip - an unfortunate mishap from a schoolyard dare. You whine and he nearly cries, soothing over the sensitive spot with hands and lips and tenderness. He lays kisses on each freckle, each irregular mark. From your navel to your knee and everywhere in between, he caresses and comforts, turning those blemishes into stars.

He also teases - subtly, quietly, with wandering hands and focused breaths. You don’t realise it until it’s too late, your insides molten, your pulse a thunderclap in your ears.

“Jungkook.” It sounds more like begging than anything. Exactly what he wants.

“What’s up, princess?” Spoken so casually, as if he isn’t between your legs, long fingers tracing through the slick that coats your thighs. He gazes up from behind too long strands, all wide-eyed and terribly sweet - until he pops a digit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the taste of you. “Something wrong?”

“Stop teasing.” You hear yourself whine but it doesn’t quite sound like you, higher pitched and needier than you’ve ever been.

“I thought you were going to be good for me,” he returns with a tut and a push of that same finger deep into your cunt. He flexes it experimentally, beaming up at you when you clench around the intrusion that’s too much and not even close to being enough all at once. “You’re so wet, baby. I just slide right in.”

As if to drive his point home, he drives another finger in, scissoring them languidly to stretch you open. It’s such a pretty sight, messy and inviting. He can’t resist a taste, dragging the flat of his tongue over and around the fingers that continue to fuck into you at a faster pace.

“ Jungkook! ” You’re shrieking, bucking against the onslaught of sensations. A shapely arm immediately cages you against the bed, palm splayed across your hips.

“Stay still.” It’s a growl, teeth bared against the sensitive pearl between your legs. Words are punctuated with the softest pressure - a silent threat that goes no further. You wonder what he’ll do if he has to repeat himself. “Good girls listen, remember?”

You’re fumbling across his shoulders, nails digging crescents everywhere you can reach. You need him so badly it hurts . “Please.”

“Please what?” That patented, stupid smirk cradles his mouth, tongue peeking out as he stares at you expectantly. “If you’re going to be so demanding, at least use your words.” He watches the way your eyes roll back into your head when he slots another finger in with the others and curls them against that particular spot that has you seeing stars. The bastard has the audacity to coo at you. “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t speak?”

You’re near wailing, gasping and whining around words that sound like his name. Angry red lines sprout across his shoulders, his arms - demands carved into flesh.

He makes a sound, wistful and resigned. You think - try to think, beyond the pleasure that’s building steadily in the pit of your stomach - that he’s finally going to give you what you need. You’re almost crying for it, moisture crowding your lashes and threatening to spill over.

Then he withdraws, all at once.

You could scream. In fact, you do, red in the face and chest heaving. “I hate you!”

“No.” He’s upon you in an instant, insistent and terribly smug. There’s a playground in his smile, childish laughter spilling into the spaces between you. “You actually love me.” He noses at your neck, the heat of his palm searing against your side as he sighs almost dreamily. “Say it again.”

You answer him with something more than love - frustration and annoyance and so much devotion you can’t keep it out no matter how hard you try. “No.”

It’s a challenge more than anything. He knows it; you know it.

He accepts it readily, just as you expect him to.

“Say it.” Enamel presses steady, heavy, into the sensitive spot right beneath your ear. He mouths over the skin that blows out red and inviting beneath his ministrations, the firm press of his fingers gripping you without hesitation. You can feel the entire weight of him against you, length nestled comfortably against your core. He repeats himself as he rocks against you, dragging the swollen, leaking head of his cock through your folds with an agonising slowness that has you clenching around nothing. “Come on, baby.”

You’re keening, adjusting your hips and grinding against him. You still won’t say it, hoping to find a rhythm in the quiet that’s punctuated by your laboured breaths and his occasional laughter.

“Just say it and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything. Promise, sweetheart.”

Framed against the late morning sun, hair spilling across his forehead in curls of india ink, he’s so handsome your heart leaps into your throat. “I love you.” It’s a wet confession, carried by a wave of emotion you don’t expect.

“I love you,” he echoes, sinking into you so gradually you feel like you’re caught in slow motion, all of your focus balanced on the tip of a needle.

It’s never been like this before. Each inch is a delicious stretch, filling you and claiming you. The drag is incredible, your walls fluttering around the intrusion and aching for more. You bite back a sob, digging into the wide expanse of his back with your nails as your mouth seeks purchase anywhere it can - over his jaw, up his neck, across his shoulders. He soothes you as he presses deeper, reassurances whispered against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let me make you feel good.” When he bottoms out, you demand more - somehow, somehow - locking your ankles against the small of his waist. He doesn’t miss the way you clench, so tight around him it almost hurts , when he says those three words once again. “I love you.”

His lips find yours and he brushes them over and over - a salve for the burn he ignites beneath your skin. It doesn’t matter that he’s both the calm and the chaos. Jungkook’s always been everything to you.

The rhythm he sets is unhurried and perfect. Each snap of his hips has his cock dragging against your walls, filling and stretching you so well; everywhere his skin brushes yours, you’re alive. There are a million nerve endings going haywire beneath your skin, flashing bright as holiday lights.

That’s what it’s like - Christmas morning . Picture perfect and filled with wonder.

He’s completely smitten when he draws back just enough to see the entirety of you - your fucked-out expression, the rose-wreath he’s wrought around your neck, the sweat that beads between your tits and tempts him to duck his head. “I love you.” It’s almost hypnotising - watching you take him, pussy dripping and needy around his cock.

“I love you,” you parrot back - or try to. It’s not very coherent, driven to a point of nonsense when his hips begin to stutter and he makes up for the loss of rhythm by slipping his fingers over your clit in circle eights.

You’re at your breaking point. He knows - can read you like the back of his hand - and holds you there, back bowing to kiss you breathless, pressure unrelenting against the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, princess. Right there.”

The coil snaps at the third pass and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks, his name spilling off your tongue in tandem with the erratic thudding of your heart. White spots your vision, entire body electrified as you crash headlong into an abyss of bliss. You hear him join you with a hoarse whine, a mix of your cum slipping out of you as he rides out his own high with shallow thrusts, mouth open and panting against your shoulder.

The comedown is hazy, dusted in exhaustion and a thin sheen of sweat. When he slips from you, he doesn’t go far, tugging you comfortably against his side like you’re not both a little gross. It’s not the first time you’ve fucked but it feels different.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Bunny.”

You realise - it feels exactly like that. Making love.

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otonymous · 3 years

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Prisoner Of Love (Ikesen Kenshin - NSFW)

Description: Can two victims of circumstance find their way to love? Warnings: NSFW/18+: Explicit/graphic language — reader discretion is advised. Spoilers for the first half of Kenshin’s MS. Potential trigger warnings: angst, imprisonment, mild mentions of injuries, self-harm and death, self-loathing, anxiety, possessiveness (it IS Kenshin after all 🤣), slight dub-con elements, profanity, vaginal intercourse, squirting Word Count: ~3100 words (~17 minutes of angst and smut) Author’s Notes: Sending out a super giant thank you to the incredibly kind and gracious @azuchi-princess for commissioning this Kenshin piece from me. I cannot tell you how honoured I am to have been entrusted with writing for your husbando! 🥰💕 It was an absolutely wonderful process working with you, and I’m so glad to have been able to indulge in my need for angst and smut at the same time!

(SPOILER ALERT!) This story takes place shortly after Kenshin has MC (read: YOU!) placed behind bars as his “spoils of war,” but I have taken creative license in altering the events that occur afterwards. Moreover, the perspective shifts between that of the reader’s and Kenshin’s in the hopes of delivering that optimal punch of angst 👊🏼🤣

Please note the warnings listed above — especially the potential triggers — and avoid this read if anything makes you uncomfortable. Otherwise, dear readers, I sincerely hope that you enjoy this piece! 💕

Chapter I (Kenshin’s POV)

Betrayal.

Cutting deeper than the sharpest blade.

Unforgiving like Himetsuru-Ichimonji, severing the red string of fate as quickly as it is drawn from its scabbard.

So why was it that Kenshin still couldn’t bring himself to hate her?

Footsteps echoing along stone walls in the bowels of Kasugayama Castle — the very place where he had her cast behind bars — Kenshin wanders, trapped in a hell from which there was no escape.

For the confines of the mind were impervious to even the God of War’s sharpened steel.

And in between each beat of his thunderous heart, he hears her: gentle tears rolling down that delicate face to fall on packed earth, the ground’s inhospitable chill reaching up through limbs to rob even the final vestiges of warmth from bone. Her every shuddering breath is a weight upon his chest, suffocating until Kenshin clings to the reins of reason holding him back from storming her cell like a madman, animated solely by the fire commanding him to see, to touch…

…to love her.

Hands clenching into tight fists, Kenshin’s knuckles blanch whiter than his already pale skin when he slows to a stop. Round the corner and there she’ll be.

Woman of the Oda. The Devil King’s own.

She, who had lied in the same breath that commiserated with him as they waited for Sasuke’s return. She, whose tears left him dazzled, catching the light of the fire like precious stones even as their salt stung, seeping into his open wounds. She, who had held his hand within her own, caring not about sullying her perfect skin with his tainted blood.

Because tainted is what he is. It is what he deserves.

And yet, he can’t help but see the moonlight in her gaze, shimmering like a spectre every time he closes his eyes. Can’t stop himself from desiring the tender warmth of her smile. Still wonders at her fearless bravado in the face of a man who brought nothing but death and destruction upon friend and foe alike.

Isehime.

No.

No, he will not see her, Kenshin thinks, gaze frosting over as he wills the ice in his veins to freeze a heart he no longer wanted to feel. He walks away, forcing himself to believe that the sound of her sorrow growing faint was nothing more than mice in the walls.

Chapter II (Reader’s POV)

Ethereal moons beckon from scrolls depicting each of the four seasons — resplendent colours discordant against the drab stone walls on which they hang.

Cherry blossoms flutter against gold-foil skies; delicate petals frozen in time as they float across a folding screen.

Even the futon in the corner of your cell seemed fit for a princess at court, much more luxurious than the one in which you had slept at Azuchi.

The Dragon of Echigo had took it upon himself to see that his spoils of war would want for nothing, and yet he would deny you the one thing you truly desired:

The man himself.

Sasuke, Shingen and Yukimura would visit — sometimes together, sometimes in turn — graciously sharing their company for which you were so starved. Your ninja friend swore with as much emotion as he could muster to do anything and everything possible to persuade his lord to release you, or at the very least, agree to see you. Yukimura couldn’t stop shaking his head, the expression on his face indignant to see you treated thus, ‘boar woman’ though you were. As for Lord Shingen, he likened you to a bird in a gilded cage, trying to tempt you with offers of freedom and a ready smile on his face that surely would’ve moved any woman to see it…

…any woman but you, that is.

For in your eyes, there was only ever Kenshin — the man who came to your rescue time and time again without knowing your true identity. Intoxicating like the finest sake, each and every moment spent by his side became a precious embrace of a memory, emblazoned in your mind until it was impossible to forget:

The black cape that flowed from broad shoulders like a powerful wave, trailing behind him that night he saved you from those thugs in Azuchi. The way your feet dragged behind his footsteps, moving slow just to watch him cut swift through tall grass with all the seasoned grace of a dancer. His porcelain skin glowing from within as if lit by the light of his own moon.

And in his eyes…sorrow as unfathomable as the sea was deep, rising like smoke from sapphire and emerald in those rare moments the Dragon of Echigo let down his guard. But alas, no more.

You had broken his trust.

How many nights have you lain awake, seeking out pinprick stars through the sliver of window high above your prison and thinking about how things might have been different? What if you had disclosed your relationship with the Oda at the very start? Would the press of the cold steel of his blade be more of a consolation against your neck than the heartbreak spreading from chest to limb every time you lay down to sleep?

Sleep?

No, that was not forthcoming these days — rest a luxury you couldn’t afford until the moment you could face Kenshin for yourself and tell him that you never meant to hurt him, never meant to lie. That though Nobunaga found you first, you had no ulterior motive in approaching Kenshin other than the fact that you…you…

…simply couldn’t stay away.

No matter what anyone tried to say about him.

For even on the battlefield, every nerve singed as the stench of freshly spilt blood filled your nostrils, you still couldn’t tear your gaze from the one they revered as the God of War. Like an immortal stepping from an unfurling scroll, Kenshin moved with the fluid grace of a master painter wielding his brush, completely at one with his sword as he dispatched his enemies with a precision that terrified and awed all at once.

And when he held you in his arms that night — the same hand which had claimed countless lives bleeding into your own as you clasped it in prayer for Sasuke’s safe return — you had felt no fear; only the wish that time would stretch into eternity so that you might forever have him near.

“Kenshin.”

You say his name once…twice…the syllables rolling off your tongue to echo down the hallway like a ghost, lonely and forgotten in the dungeons of Kasugayama Castle. What was freedom to you when you couldn’t bear to break the shackles chaining you to a god who would never look your way again?

Chapter III (Kenshin’s POV)

“Kenshin.”

Her voice halts him in his tracks, one hand shooting out to rest upon the cool stone wall as Kenshin bolsters himself against the sudden weakness in his knees. When was the last time he heard her speak his name? Had it always sounded so melodic, caressing up the spine to curl gently upon the lobe of his ear?

That she is calling for him at a time when she should’ve been fast asleep is a source of elation and anxiety all at once, She is thinking of me tempered by the dread in knowing that she wasn’t getting the rest her body needed. And slowly, slowly…the scales start to tip: if she didn’t sleep, she’d become too exhausted to eat. And without eating, she would…

…die.

The nightmare would begin anew. Except this time, it would be her blood on Kenshin’s hands, spilling crimson over the scars left behind by Isehime’s lifeless body.

She’ll slip away from you like the other, the voice in his head chastises, full of malice as darkness begins unfurling from the corners of his mind, tightening the vice in his chest. They come hard and fast, thoughts tangling one over the other like a labyrinth of vines from which there was no escape:

Poison runs through your veins. Loving her would only doom the girl to misfortune and regret.

If she is not yours, could you possibly surrender her to anyone else?

You cannot outrun your curse. All those you hold dear will end up like Isehime: sleeping in the cold earth.

No one must lay eyes on her beauty, witness her elegance, know of the rare flower blooming in the depths of this dungeon.

No one but you.

Fist pulling back, Kenshin releases the full force of his strength in a punch to the wall. Bruised bone and shredded skin send blistering pain to interrupt the cacophony in his head, silence reigning supreme once more until

“Kenshin?”

…she calls for him again, voice coloured with anticipation this time. He hears a shuffle, sees her in his mind’s eye — throwing off the covers of her bedding to press against the bars, straining to peek around the wooden slats that kept her from freedom. Kept her from him.

“Please, Kenshin…is that you?”

He knows not why he does it, body moving before his mind is even aware. Kenshin had managed to make his way to her cell undetected every night since he put her there, standing silent in shadowy corners just to watch her sleep, allowing the rise and fall of her breath to soothe him with the knowledge that she was still very much alive. But now, in a single moment of thoughtlessness, he had thrown it all away.

She gasps to finally see him and even the sound of that is beautiful, resonating clear like the note of an expertly plucked koto. His gaze falls on her tightened grip around the bars, follows the solitary tear gathering starlight as it rolls down her cheek. And when her eyes widen in horror to look upon the state of his injured hand, Kenshin feels it:

A shift deep within, barely perceptible but wholly significant, like ice cracking beneath the surface of a frozen stream.

And the rush of waters that follows drowns the lovers in a flood from which neither was capable of nor willing to escape.

Chapter IV (Reader’s POV)

Perhaps he really was a god, answering every prayer that ever slipped past noiseless lips to materialize before you in that prison. His white kimono is pristine beneath that black cloak, as if emphasizing the sanctity of his being, the unalterable distance between Uesugi Kenshin and a mere mortal such as yourself. But then the rivulets of red run down that swollen hand to tell you otherwise; the revelation bittersweet because maybe now, there was a way for you to be together, complicated though circumstances were.

So you reach for him through the bars and he complies, watching as you lay kisses upon bruised fingers, feeling the familiar sting of your tears as they seep into wounded flesh and broken hearts — full of sorrow, full of joy…and impossible to stop.

“Push me away.”

His voice is soft for the hard edges of his words. Head lifting, you meet those striking eyes, focused and still. Yet, you felt the storm brewing in those blue and green depths, turmoil barely concealed beneath the ice of his gaze. And there, standing before the man whose very blood stained your lips, you refuse.

Lightning flashes in those eyes and suddenly, his fingers are curling tight about the sleeve of your kimono, Kenshin pulling you close through the bars in one swift motion until the stilted rhythm of his breath is dancing hot over your skin.

“Say it. Say you hate me, that you want absolutely nothing to do with me. Do it now or else—”

“No. Never. How could I ever bring myself to hate the one I love—”

The grimace on his handsome face cuts you off, the great Dragon of Echigo trembling at the very word, love, like it was dirty, taboo. And as the final threads of control slip from his grasp, Kenshin is moving once more without thought — his body a slave to the dictates of the heart. Yanking on the ring of keys hanging from his tapered waist, Kenshin throws open the door to your cell and in an instant, he is by your side.

“Fine. Then I’ll make you hate me.”

His whisper is a promise.

The keys clatter as they’re thrown to the ground, but all you could hear was the rush of blood in your ears, deafening with every pounding beat of your heart to feel his lips on yours for the very first time. The insistent tongue pushing into your mouth carries a hint of sake, the fervour of his kiss leaving you intoxicated and desperate for more.

Long fingers thread through the silk of your hair, Kenshin’s grip gentle yet firm as he angles your head to deepen the kiss, bringing you closer and closer until the end of his exhalation marked the beginning of your next breath. And hadn’t it always been this way, you forever chasing after the mystery that was this beautifully broken man? The intensity of his want is a spell that bewitches, inexorably pulling you into the crucible of his desire, passion matching yours flame for burning flame until all else was extinguished.

Good and bad, right or wrong.

Words insignificant like ash in the face of this all-consuming love.

“Hate me,” Kenshin begs, teeth sinking into your lower lip until the taste of your blood mixed with his. “Please…or else I’ll never give you up.”

Open-mouthed kisses now trailing wet along the column of your neck, your fingers find purchase in his golden hair, pulling hard as you yield to the sensation of his breath moving lower and lower still. Kenshin groans, the sound resonating from deep within his chest to send a rush of heat that dampens the sacred space between your legs.

Body ready and heart set, your mind had been made up long ago. So you grasp onto those shoulders — broad and strong — to pull Kenshin up before you. And in the silent space between the beating of twin hearts, you say with a conviction so strong there could be no doubt,

“I am yours.”

The sound that catches in his throat is guttural, almost feral as those eyes of emerald and sapphire train on you with the intensity of a thousand suns. A sea of emotions flit across that handsome face, subtly shifting until one finally wins out:

Need.

You barely feel it though it must’ve taken considerable force to tear your obi off, the sumptuous kimono he gifted you with slipping from your shoulders as the God of War sets you upon the futon fit for a princess. Elegant even in haste, Kenshin disrobes with the grace of snow falling on frost-covered pine, revealing porcelain skin stretched over perfectly sculpted muscle that beckons to your every nerve.

And before the dungeon’s chill could rattle your bones, he gathers you into the heat of his embrace. Skin to skin, the arms wrapped around you tremble when he whispers, “I’ve wanted you so desperately, I-I don’t think I can hold back.”

Head falling back onto your pillow, you will Kenshin to see the sincerity, the surrender in the darkened gaze that reflects his very image.

“Then give me everything. I want…all that you are.”

It tears a breathless gasp from your lips, mouth drawn open in a silent scream when Kenshin fills you to the hilt with a single thrust — the thick, hard heat of his cock testing the limits of your body with its size. Equally skilled in bed as he was on the battlefield, the God of War is a force to be reckoned with, the swing of his hips graceful even as they connect with yours, ruthless in speed and intensity.

He moves within your body like he belongs, pulling out only to dive even deeper into slick depths until pleasure bloomed pink along your skin, the hardened tips of your breasts so enticing Kenshin couldn’t help but take them into his mouth in greedy turn as he continued thrusting, harder and faster until your legs began to shake.

“Oh god, Kenshin! You feel…so…good...ahh!—”

Pants and screams echo down darkened corridors, the sound of your pleasure in being taken this way resonating in the corners of every prison cell until you think to bite onto the sleeve of your kimono. But Kenshin just shakes his head, the sweat of exertion glistening on his body as his fingers move towards your mouth.

“No, I want…hmm…to hear you. Every sound you make is…precious to me. Let it out.”

With that, he removes the embroidered fabric, lips pressing to yours to swallow every licentious moan for himself as he props your legs up against his shoulders. All of a sudden, like pieces of a puzzle sliding into place, the motion awakens sensations you never before knew existed.

Unable to scream with your lover’s tongue in your mouth, your body responds in the only other way it knew how: convulsing beneath Kenshin until he is forced to pull out, allowing a flood of your arousal to cascade past swollen lips, spilling down the insides of your thighs in a lewd display that wets the bedding beneath your entwined bodies. And yet,

“More. Please, Kenshin…I want more…”

…you were insatiable.

The sight, sound and smell of you so undone ignites a fire inside the warlord, his mind scrambled by lust. And when he slides into you once more, he fucks with absolute abandon, yearning for complete union even as he leaves you breathless to finally spill into your depths.

* * *

You awake to moonlight glowing soft beyond shoji screens and the rhythm of a heartbeat, measured and slow beneath your ear. The robe you wore was fresh and soft; vague recollections of Kenshin gently caressing your fatigued body with a washcloth filtering in and out of your thoughts. At some point, he must’ve carried you to his chambers, sleeping now as you were upon his chest.

Lifting your head, you gaze at your lover in repose. It fills you with affection to see him — heart tightening to bind you to this man. And as his muscular arm winds about your waist, you knew you would forever be a willing prisoner to his love.

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#ikesen #ikemen sengoku #ikesen kenshin #ikemen sengoku kenshin #uesugi kenshin #ikesen kenshin smut #ikesen smut #my writing #commission #azuchi-princess #thank you again my dear!#you are lovely to work with

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