#i am always STARVED FOR MOTH CONTENT!!!!!
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On your latest chasm thoughts about finding FL in a room filled with mud. Just brainrot continuation with you! Uh oh. It ended up too long, I'm sorry!
***
I could imagine him just being relieved because finally someone found him and also he would be pleasantly surprised and happy that it's you. As you reach out to swipe and clean the mud off his wings with such gentle movements, constantly assuring him that things will be okay, he just begins to melt. You take him to the part of the chasm with the least monsters - the part that looks like a tree from Sumeru (where we got that big chest after triggering several totems). He plops down on the grass, back against the tree trunk. A worried trill comes out of him as he notices the bandages around your arm. You began to unwrap the bandages to reveal slashes you've sustained while battling enemies while purging the mud on your way down deep into the Chasm. He growls softly while touching your hand with gentle, sharp talons. He would kill whoever or whatever did this to you, as soon as he gets his strength back.
"I'm fine. We'll be fine," you said.
Then you walked up to the water surrounding the area, cleaning the wound. You also fussed over him to see if he has injuries and proceeded to clean them. At times like this, your vision comes in handly. Frost swirls around the two of you - healing and closing injuries, reminiscent of his cold homeland. His eyes widen in wonder. He didn't know that you had a vision from his days in Liyue. You must have gotten it after he disappeared.
For the next few days and nights, you take care of him and he does the same. Although he would love to just drift off to sleep next to you, he would keep watch at night. Clawed hands stroking your hair as you sleep as his eyes examined every possible entry point to where you were staying. You caught him one time as you woke up from a dream, only to feel a soft stroke on your head. The Abyss Monster that you've found was undeniably gentle. You reach on top of you head to hold his hand, carefully so as not to lose your fingers. A surprised yelp emerged from him. He faces away from you, hiding his face with his other hand as he tried to desperately stay still. He was embarrassed to be caught. What would you think of him? He wasn't even human at this point. He was terrifying, alien, a predator-
His dark line of thought breaks as you leaned your head on him, snuggling into his warmth. Now he noticed how you tucked your feet into the blanket you've brought with you. As you snuggle close to him, trusting him without a doubt, he melts into a happy puddle inside. He wraps an arm around you and drapes one of his galaxy wings so that you are covered and protected. A purr reverberates in his chest as he tucks you closer. You don't know yet that he has retained some of his speech and he hates to admit that it was because he kept running into those heralds and lectors. His broken speech would suffice for now.
"Thank you, Y/N."
Your eyes snapped open at the voice, although monstrous, it held a warmth.
"You can talk? You understand me? Also - how do you know my name? I haven't mentioned it." you ask hurriedly.
He nods simply, unable to vocalize all the words for you. He desperately wanted to tell you who he was. He hopes that you wouldn't leave.
You were sitting up now, eyes shining in curiosity. "Please, tell me your name."
He fumbles with something on his armor. He pulls out a red scarf - it was wrinkled and rolled - a symbol that would stand out in a crowd, especially in Liyue.
He lets out a small sad sound, looking at you with a lonely single eye. He shakes his head and takes your hand, only to drop something on it.
Confused, you unfurl the red object. It stretches out into a scarf with sharp, pointed metal bits on the end. Your eyes widened. You used to see this scarf every morning as you walk through Liyue Harbor, on your way to the academy. It used to dangle in front of you as the 11th Harbinger discussed with his underlings or his clients. He never talked to you though, although he had somehow become a part of your morning routine. Always showing up or walking at the same time. Never with you, just near enough so you could admire him.
From your studies and the Abyssal creatures you encountered, you had an inkling that they were cursed.
Childe let out a low whine.
You came back to him, hands reaching out to clasp his hands. Oh archons, you would do anything if it meant getting him safe, if it meant getting the chance to tell him after all this time.
"Childe?"
He answers with soft, distorted, "Yes."
Your trembling hand settled on where his cheek would be, the smooth contour of his mask. It hurt you to see how far from human he was. It hurt to imagine how he must have suffered. His soft trill at your touch warms your heart.
"Let's go home," you say. An invite.
His chest burns in a good way at the words. You accepted him, his truth and darkness. You were as bright as the sun, lighting up the shadows that he lived in.
He holds your hand on his cheek. The tips of his claws stroking your skin as gently as possible. He nodded enthusiastically.
You two set out to escape the Chasm not through the main entrance/exit. People would panic at the sight of Childe. Thankfully, you've found an old hatch that led to the surface. Unfortunately, a Shadowy Husk blocked your path. You didn't even have time to react before Childe dealt with the problem. A polearm crackling with electro manifested in his hand. He moved fluidly, each second landing a hit on the enemy. When he was done, he covered the enemy with his body, so you wouldn't have to see the mess. The polearm dissipated at his command.
He through the hatch first, checking if the coast was clear, before assisting you as you exited.
Cool, pure air came into Childe's lungs for the first time in months. His archon probably despised him now for leaving his post for too long. But heavens, there must be a higher power at work because he was freed from the mud and found you. You were clutching his hand, warmth seeping through your fingers. You looked up at him with a sweet smile and began to walk towards home.
He doesn't deserve this, he thought. But he decided that he would try his best to keep you safe and happy and, to protect that smile. It was a promise. He never ever breaks his promises.
MY DEAR NEVER APOLOGIZE FOR SOMETHING BEING LONG!!! I LOVE RECEIVING LONG BRAINROTS AND THIS MADE MY DAY <333 (referencing this post)
you're quick to set out in the direction of your home, but it's quite far due to being in the outskirts of the Harbor- luckily the side passage you found out of the Chasm was unmonitored, so your comings and goings would go unnoticed. you take deep breaths as you walk, stretching your arms and inhaling clean air for the first time in what felt like ages, although you suppose it had been ages thanks to that revolting mud that coated the Chasm's ground and walls. Childe's doing much the same, almost running across the fields and turning his masked face up to relish the sunlight.
you'd be lying if you said that you had felt no effects while adventuring down in that pit- you were simply good at hiding your coughs and fatigue. but now, under the gentle eye of the sun and whoever might be the new Geo Archon, you feel your legs give out and send you sprawling into the soft grass. the texture makes you smile and laugh, then cough as the impact becomes too much for your lungs. Childe yelps your name in alarm, hastily crouching beside you to see if you're alright. his eye shines with worry every time you cough, but he relaxes ever-so-slightly when he sees that you're still smiling.
"I'm alright, really. Just side effects."
he nods, posture loosening but concern still etched on his face. so with a single swift motion, he scoops you into his arms, easily cradling your considerably smaller form against his chest. it makes you smile even more, and you lean your head on his shoulder, tracing the grooves and dips in his armor. there's not a trace of that nasty mud left anywhere, you notice with not a small sense of pride and satisfaction. Childe talks, as best he can, as he walks, his voice familiar and soft to you even if it's more growly and guttural. he doesn't speak of the Chasm- he'd rather forget either of you ever being in pain- but instead he tells you about the first day he saw you, and how curious he was, mostly due to the peculiar feeling that washed over him whenever he looked at you. that's why he started straying near you in the morning, to observe you longer and figure out the emotion he was feeling. and it wasn't till he'd been keeping up the routine for over a month that he realized what it was.
caution- but not for himself, for you. he wanted to protect you, keep you safe from harm and hold you in his arms forever.
it warms your heart to hear him confess such things, voice always dropping to a mumble as he hides his face behind his claws. you laugh kindly, pressing your face into the crook of his neck as he stumbles over his limited words, half due to embarrassment, half due to the rumbling purrs emitting from his chest. shifting yourself up, you wrap your arms around his neck and hum contently as Childe walks towards your home, and you ignore the dull, constant pain lacing itself through your lungs and injured arm.
you can deal with those later. it'll be fine, right?
#genshin impact#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#foul legacy#foul legacy childe#childe#tartaglia#genshin tartagalia#chit chat#darling mutuals#I LOVE THIS SO MUCH OHH MY GOD#YOU'RE AN AMAZING WRITER MY DEAR!!!!#and please never apologize for anything being 'too long'#i love to read EVERYTHING you send me!!!#i am always STARVED FOR MOTH CONTENT!!!!!#short scenario#other's stuff#FAVE
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I Drank Dry the River Lethe
Osamu Dazai x gn! Reader
wc: 1.2k
Warnings: none
Dazai is in love with you, he has no idea. He just knows that you make him feel…weird.
Dazai doesn’t know what’s happening to him, as far as he’s aware, you don’t have a special ability. But, that has to be the only explanation for how his heartbeat quickens whenever you walk into the room, how his breath is stolen every time you smile. How every accidental touch makes him yearn for more, like a siren song he can’t get out of his head, even if he were to jump overboard.
You were always so kind to him, a far cry from Kunikida who you claim to be best friends with. But it’s Dazai who you always hand a cup of coffee to, Dazai who you always save a pastry for. He can’t bear it, your kindness. Like he doesn’t deserve it. He’s sure you know, and yet….you still smile at him. Your smile is so bright it could rival the sun, and Dazai wouldn’t mind burning in its ultraviolet rays.
He’s staring at you now, as you sit on the corner of where Atsushi is sitting, talking animatedly at him, gesturing so wildly with your hands you nearly hit yourself in the face. You laugh, embarrassed. It’s like music to his ears, he wants to record the sound and play it on repeat over his headphones so he never forgets it, so it's ingrained into his brain.
“Dazai,” you say, “want anything from the shop?”
He blinks, taken out of his thoughts by the lilt of your voice. “What?”
You're next to him now, the scent of your body spray nearly intoxicating to him. He wants to press his nose to your throat and drink it in.
“The shop, I’m going to pick up lunch from there. Do you want anything?”
He stands, stretches and yawns. “I’ll just come with you.”
You roll your eyes, but smile still. “Well, don’t make it sound like such a chore, I could’ve offered to get you nothing.”
Dramatically he leans against your shoulder, hand over his forehead, feigning a sorrowful swoon. “And starve me to death? How cruel, even for you.”
You laugh, Dazai loves making you laugh. He craves it, almost, wants to keep doing it.
“You’re so dramatic, but alright, come along.”
He’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you asked, but for now, the shop down the street would do.
You say hello to a bunch of people as you pass by, almost all of them complete strangers. You even hum as you walk. He’s so content watching you, that he almost runs into a lamppost.
You pull him away just in time and frown. “It’s not good to have your head stuck in the clouds all the time. What if you got hit by a car?! Dr. Yosano wouldn’t have been able to heal you!”
“Awe, you’re worried about little old me?”
You let him go. “You know what, actually? Next time you daydream I’m letting you hit the pole, and I hope you get the ugliest bump on the middle of your forehead. And when you beg and plead with me for an ice pack, I am going to say I told you so.”
You let the silence linger for one moment. “And then I’ll get you the ice pack.”
He laughs, absolutely enamored with you. “I knew you enjoyed my company.”
“Of course, that’s why I get gray hairs trying to keep you around. Now, come on. I’m starving and I want to grab a good onigiri before they’re all gone!”
You grab his hand and pull you along and oh. He thinks this is the first time you’ve touched him on purpose, the feeling of your hand so impossibly warm in his he doesn’t know what to think or feel. He wants to pull you into him, wrap you up in his arms and never let go. He could die in your arms and nothing else would ever be more perfect.
Dazai knows what he feels when he looks at you now, the shortness of breath, the skipping heart. It is no spell, no special ability.
He is in love with you, drawn to you like a moth to a flame, a nail to a magnet.
Suddenly, all he wants to do is tell you, the need clawing his way to the top of his throat, being stopped only by sheer will. He will not tell you this in a shitty convenience store, where anyone could overhear. No, he won’t do that. Dazai has some semblance of romance after all, even if Kunikida thinks the opposite.
“What do you want?” You ask, observing the onigiri with a seriousness that otherwise would’ve made him chuckle, had his very being not been shaken to the core.
His eyes land on the first bento he sees and he grabs it. “This is perfect.”
You raise a brow. “Are you okay? Did you actually hit your head and I didn’t see?”
Dazai rolls his eyes. “I’m just really in the mood for….salmon.”
He absolutely was not in the mood for salmon, but you shrugged and continued perusing for the items the rest of the ADA had asked for. He even managed to regain some state of being long enough to help you carry the bag back to the agency.
You grin brightly as you enter the office. “Lunch! And I can say with one hundred percent certainty that nothing got crushed. Except for Dazai, almost.”
“I’m telling you, I could’ve avoided any oncoming traffic.”
You roll your eyes, but smile at him in exasperation. “Okay, okay. You’re tough as nails.”
Dazai shoves the whole piece of salmon in his mouth to prevent the feelings from spilling out. He nearly chokes.
You hand him a glass of water, eyes crinkled in the corner from amusement.
***
It’s just you two in the office at the end of the day. The atmosphere is almost stifling now that he has the perfect chance to confess.
It’s funny, how easily he was able to proposition other people that he thought were perfect candidates for his dream. But now that it was you, someone he knows, that he cares for….he almost can’t get the words out. Everyone he’s ever propositioned pales in comparison to you, you have wholly ruined him; there’s no one on earth like you.
You’re nervous as you turn to him. “I know why you're acting weird.”
“You do?” Shit.
“You found out about my feelings for you. I knew I was too obvious.”
Dazai blinks. “Huh?”
Realization that he didn’t know dawns on you and you rush to leave, but he grabs your arm and pulls you into a desperate kiss, like if he didn’t kiss you in that moment he would explode.
Your lips against his are a religious feeling, something to worship. He wonders if he could get amnesia so he couldn’t experience them for the first time over and over again. Wonders if, perhaps, he’s already dead and this is his eternal heaven.
Knows he’s alive once you pull away and laugh, eyes shining in disbelief and joy. He kisses you again. You smile into it.
Dazai spends a lot of time doing that until he’s certain he’ll never get tired of it.
#daylightarchive#fandom☀️: bsd#character☀️: dazai osamu#bsd x reader#bsd x you#dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai osamu x you#dazai osamu x reader#bungou stray dogs x reader#bungou stray dogs x you#bungo stray dogs x reader#bungo stray dogs x you#reader insert#sunbathing with: dazai
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How are u? I miss u bestie
hey bestie. rn i'm feeling a bit deflated tbh. i'm sure i'll be fine soon enough, but wow it just seems like there's always something bad happening for me here like one of my blogs is disappearing or an acct is being termed or a former mutual is no longer following me or a current mutual is no longer interacting w me or i'm finding out ppl r talking abt me behind my back n spinning half truths into hideous vileness or i'm visiting a mutual's blog n am immediately nauseated seeing content reblogged from the most duplicitous blogger i know of n who's made claims abt me that r the actual polar opposite of the interactions that occurred while literally echoing words i've personally said here abt striving to be authentic n genuine or i'm seeing a former mutual's response to a question abt following ppl back that talks abt how they don't rly do it anymore bc everyone turned out to be terrible ppl n knowing that i'm probably one of the ppl they think that abt but for bullshit reasons or like i'm having warm n wholesome thoughts towards someone for a split second before remembering that oh yeah wait they think i'm evil now n r no longer one of my few real friends if they ever were or i'm being told to kill myself or i'm finding myself afraid to reply to a question by someone who's been canceled for alleged disgusting things but i don't know if any of that stuff was true bc i sure as hell now know firsthand that ppl r well-capable of attributing motives that do not exist n yet here i am now paralyzed n not responding bc i don't if my once thriving but now v precarious existence here would survive the association of even answering a totally benign question n so also thereby better understand other ppl's resistance to interacting w or implicitly endorsing my content simply for the just-in-case-ness of it all or like a sick, sick individual who last showed up in my world a few yrs ago attempting to catfish me by leveraging the death of someone i cared abt showed up again yesterday either again attempting to catfish me or sending some likely unsuspecting minion to do her bidding (unclear which) n like holy hell, u know?
well the main reason i started this blog n started talking here was literally to vent n to be raw n authentic n just own all my weirdness n my conflict n my vulnerability n my perversion n my trauma n my hope n my fear n my stupidity n my experience n my insight n then when ppl completely unexpectedly to me began to follow n interact, my purpose for it expanded to connect w ppl on a real level w the parts of me that i'd let starve or had starved willfully whether out of ignorance or naivety or learned shame or simply fear of being know n to thereby find resonance n all the while to attempt for all that i'm worth to integrate it in a positive way n hopefully thereby facilitate others doing the same n maybe just maybe if i'm super extra lucky n the moths happen to flap their wings in just the right manners at the witching hour while the moon's in the right phase to be able to offer smth of worth to the world in a greater magnitude than i've been able to thus far n well i'm not going to stop trying to integrate n to connect n to be willing to stand up n own my shit until the day my heart stops beating n even w what is now at times such a stentorian din of noise that in moments i cannot even begin to tell what key it's all in or whether there's even a rhythm let alone where the downbeat went i am going to keep trying to improvise a harmony [some of which intrinsically necessitates my silence], it's still the place where i seem most to find meaningful resonance w others who r similarly motivated n similarly struggling but yeah it gets to be a little much sometimes..
but how're u bestie? n why do u miss me? do we not talk? did we ever? do i just suck so bad at replying that an anon seemed a better way to get a response?
in any case, i hope ur well, n i probably miss u too 🩵
p.s. sry i couldn't spare much punctuation what w inflation n the supply chaine n all the crimes against humanity etc.
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Hello! I was wondering, would be willing to write for The Clown/Jeffrey Hawk? Anything fluffly, really, I rarely come across fluff about him and I'm starving for it. I am in need of soft Clown content. Please and thank you :C
Hello sweetheart, I can absolutely do that for you.
Please be warned I have not written for Jeffery yet, but I will do my best.
Bhvr can rip Maurice from my cold dead hands
The Clown - Kenneth Chase / Jeffery Hawk
The carriage creaked loudly as Kenneth stepped down from its steps, rocking back into place once he stepped off. The clown had a mission of sorts. One that had taken a lot of planing, a lot of questions and partial charades with the nurse, and a many favours owed to an old coot with a gun. Entirely worth it, however.
Kenneth glanced back, a final check to ensure everything was just right, before continuing on his way. Despite his… less than gentlemanly appearance and mannerisms, Kenneth did know a thing or two about romance - sort of. He had been relatively popular in his teenage years, lending to showing him the basics of wooing someone.
Whatever he didn’t learn from then he remembered from movies, books and most recently, whatever he had been able to convey from the raspy breathes of the only person in the realm he knew had actually been married.
Tonight would test his knowledge, and it would be a lie to say he wasn’t silently panicking. Was it too much? Was it enough? Would he look like a fool? He already looked like a fool he was dressed like a clown - no, none of that. get it together, Kenneth.
The fog at the boarder of the realm began to shift, curling in and out as the land began to change. The clown straighten his back some, quickly brushing back his mussed hair and silently cursing his balding.
He watched closely as you stepped from the mist, stealing away his breath as you did. You were always stunning in his eyes, and if never failed to surprise him just how you made his heart leap. You smiled at him, stepping forward to take his outstretched hand. “Now will you tell me what you’ve been hiding?”
He smirked, turning to begin guiding you back toward the caravan. “Can’t, wouldn’t be much of a surprise.”
The two of you entered the clearing past the burned building, and you gasped. The usual carnival games and tacky attractions had been pushed aside in the corner, lending room for a single table set up in the middle. An old, moth eaten table cloth draped over it with a candle burning in the centre. Strings of lights twinkled above, were it not for the dilapidated and dirty look of everything around you - this would be like a scene from a cheesy movie.
Kenneth watched you take in the sight, silently questioning himself. Did you hate it? You have a snort of a laugh, playfully pushing him. “You’re such a dork!” Oh god, you hated it. You smiled up at him, warmth radiating off you as you took his hand again “this is wonderful, thank you”
oh, alright. He mentally laughed at himself, what had he been so worried about? Psh he still had it.
The clown gave a dramatic bow, waving an arm towards the table in a very over the top display. You laughed again as he led you to your spot, pulling your chair out for you and stumbling slightly to push it back in on the grassy ground. The rusted iron chair creaked as he sat down in it, cussing quietly under his breath. “Where’d you get this idea? ” You asked, your voice light with a playful tone.
“I’ll have ya know, I came up with all this myself. ‘m somewhat of a love expert.” He adjusted the collar of his shirt for comedic effect, pulling small laugh from you. Music to his ears. “Well I look forward to what that expert mind has planned” you smiled propping your head up with a hand.
Kenneth smiled, quite proud of himself. “Nothin’ special, just this.” He closed his eyes, a confident grin on his painted face. You stared at him, glancing around for something to happen or for him to move. After a moment, he opened his eyes, brows knitting together. “I said, just this” silence met the two of you, broken only by a laboured huff from Maurice.
“Caleb! Get your scrawny ass out here!” Jeffery shouted, thumbing his fist on the table. You heard a deep sigh, and from behind the large caravan stepped an older man you recognized. The whispered stories told around the campfire, and horrific memories of glowing eyes. The Deathslinger himself. Gone was his signature duster and hat, traded out for a simple old blue shirt and vest. Pale hair tied back and a scowl firmly placed on his features that told you he really didn’t want to be present.
The bounty hunter - or Caleb, as you’ve now found out - approached, unceremoniously dropping two plates of entity catered mystery food onto the table. “Bone apple whatever tha hell.” He said bitterly, glaring at Jeffery before turning to you and pointing a finger in your direction. “One word o’ this to anyone an’ I make you eat the harpoon.”
Jeffery coughed, fixing the man a look. Caleb turned on his heel. Muttering to himself as he limped away, once he was gone you released the laugh you had been desperately holding in. Kenneth joined you, his familiar harsh laugh filling the clearing.
You smiled, it had been so long since you had been able to enjoy a meal with someone you cared for. Yes you ate at the campfire with the others, but this was something different, something special. This was a date. A real, proper date with someone you loved. Someway, somehow Kenneth had hopped through enough hoops to arrange the closest thing to a romantic date one could get in this hell, and he had done it for you.
You reached across the table, taking his hand into yours and fixed your gaze to his. “Thank you, Kenneth. Really.”
The clown leaned forward, raising your hand to his lips and pressed a kiss to the top of your hand. “Anythin’ for you, Doll.”
#dbd imagines#dbd x reader#slasher fic#Kenneth chase x reader#jefferey hawk x reader#the clown x reader#wren writes#anonymous#I had a look at the clown tags and wow#you clown lovers really are starving.#feast my loves#I wanted to give you something extra sweet since there’s so little#hopefully it’s as tooth rottingly sweet as I hope.
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Short story — part two!
this is a continuation of my story from earlier!
the same content warnings for suicidal ideation and gore still stand !
Yusuf realizes now that he should be sobered, humbled, afraid. In the den of the minotaur.
But fear is no object as he turns and takes in the sight of the beast. Any death is sweeter than the bitter winter outside.
The creature hunches tall over him, bestial yet weak; adorned with jagged horns and clawed hands and split hooves— the cautionary visage of a minotaur. He's covered in thick, damp fur and a faded red cloak like a creature of the night, yet he’s too– ill to look predatory. His frame is giant and brutish, yet he strains to hold his wretched head up.
He doesn't seem like the abomination the townsfolk whispered about. Even in this pen of rot, he can't imagine the creature indulging the loving eroticism of death.
But it’s starving.
The beast needs to feed, and the man needs to die. Such is life for animals like them.
If the folktales are true, the creature will taste the man’s flesh and be blessed to never hunger again. If they aren’t, it doesn’t make much difference.
It doesn’t move to claim him, it only stares with lidded black eyes.
Even so the man goes on and places his life in the maw of the minotaur. He clenches his eyes shut, draws in a sharp breath, and submits to his own devouring.
“Please,” the man begs an unmoving Kallus, "end me, make love to me with your fangs. Feast upon me so that you may live– so that I may rest in peace.”
Close your jaws around him. The voice commands, Have your fill. End this.
"No," The beast utters, almost usure which voice he’s denying, "won't.. hurt you,"
His words are blunt and forceful and he no longer looks at the traveler. He’s fighting the scent, fighting to preserve something.
But despite the minotaur's objections, the man’s desire persists.
"I’ve nothing left." He grovels, “Let me offer myself. Let my death have meaning, please. I beg of you.”
“Won't lash out in hunger. Won't.” Kallus says through clenched teeth.
“And what of the slaughtered animals?” the man seethes, casting eyes on the den of rotting creatures, “What barrs my innocence from that of any creature fallen on the blade of your desire?”
The minotaur’s face distorts in grief, eyes all too present for a moment.
“Was not always... like this,” he mourns, languishing over his wretched body, “was… human once, was cursed with this body.”
“Like the faerie tales.” the man whispers, “You’ve not yet devoured a human, have you?”
“No!” he cries, staggering back with disgust, “Can not destroy my kin– can not become such an animal.”
Oh.
Silence consumes them both, yet before another word escapes either man– there comes something more intimate.
A touch.
A freezing hand ghosts across the side of a monstrous face, and holds it with wifely fervor; unafraid.
“Oh, my other,” the man whispers, “I am not kin, I am not prey; I am an oblation. To eat of my flesh would be an act of love– would make you a god,"
His words are pure bullshit. Flattery, but part of him believes.
The minotaur lets his gaze drop to the man’s neck, transfixed. It would taste so sweet, he thought, sweet and forbidden. A rope is still wrapped around his neck, the other end strung up on the branch of an old elm tree. He’s resigned, unwilling to break away.
The man’s words arouse something within Kallus. He fears he can’t stop himself from doing what he's wanted to do since the stranger arrived. But he tries. Again he denies the man.
“Then I must go, and find my death somewhere else.” he resigns, hanging his head and turning to walk away.
“No.” The beast orders.
“... What?”
“Stay here– just for tonight.” the beast says, calmer now.
And with a lasting prayer that morning will not come for him, the man obliges his new master.
Under the dim light above the den Kallus finally sees the wanderer, and in simple terms, he is moth-eaten.
Wrapped in ragged wool is a pale, thin, pestilized body. His face is gaunt and aging, his dark hair is long and unkempt, and his cheeks are scarred, tinged red with the biting cold.
He hungers as well.
To the beast he’s fragile as stained glass.
Just as beautiful too.
“Have you a name?” the man asks, watching the creature pace around the room.
He stops dead. Caught off guard by the thought that anyone cared enough to ask.
“Kallus,” he answers, in a strange, hushed tone, “and you?”
The man falters for a beat, and swiftly pulls something from around his neck.
“I was once called Omega.” He says, presenting a silver pendant with the Greek symbol on its face, “It means end of all things.”
Kallus looks at the rough edges of the relic, and in turn the rough edges of the man himself.
“But that was long ago.” he adds sharply, snapping up the necklace and stashing it away, “my real name is Yusuf.”
The creature turns the name over in his mind, drinking in the very warmth of it.
“‘Yusuf.’” he repeats, and the man shivers at the possessive way he says it.
That’s it, he thinks, call me yours.
Night has all but fallen, and the storm picks up outside. Yusuf shakes beneath his tattered cloak as he sits on the floor of the den. He curls into himself a bit, as if mourning or nursing a wound.
Those worn brown eyes catch Kallus leering, and the body shifts to cover its emaciated nature. It only draws him closer.
The behemoth moves forward on all fours, trying to be light and gentle as he skulks over piles of ravaged bodies. They’re a chorus of voices beneath his claws and hooves, led by that shameless old desire.
Maim him. Hurt him. Kill him.
It’s easier to resist, looking into his eyes.
“Are you hurt?” asks the minotaur, almost closing the distance between them.
“No.” he replies, withdrawing into his cloak.
The beast huffs and raises its towering head.
“Show your arm.”
“No, it’s nothing.” You’re going to devour me anyway, the man thinks, almost resentfully, it’s only another reason to give in.
“Show.” he orders, voice stern yet not unkind.
The man buckles under the weight of the command.
“It’s not important, it's just– my arm. I can’t feel it,” he mutters, revealing the affliction.
The limb at his right is frostbitten, reminiscent of a burned tree branch. Blackened, waxy skin stretches across the tender, withering hand. The darkness creeps up below his elbow where it meets a pale, soft body, like a falconer's glove.
It’s troubling how well Yusuf hides the pain, and how the hand hangs rigid as a body in the gallows.
“It’s dead weight.” he admits, “ but– it’s begun to spread, and it hurts. I can’t hunt, I can’t start a fire, I can’t treat it. It’s always there.”
Kallus reaches out, cautiously. He’s afraid to even touch the man in this state, considering his– ideations.
“You can still survive,”
“No, I can’t. Not like this.”
“Then find a way. Darkness is coming, you must learn to live with the pain.”
“I won’t live. It's unbearable. You could never understand.”
The beast’s ears flatten against his head, and he bites his tongue and seethes, quietly.
“Understand far too well.” Kallus all but confides, “Pain may never fully leave, but you will make it.”
“And what about you? If I survive and leave this place, what happens to you?”
There comes no reply.
The chorus is one voice stronger now.
“Why are you so stubborn?” he lashes out, “You can have me. You’ll starve if you don’t!”
“You are not a body to be offered!” Kallus dercies, violently shaking the thoughts from his head.
“Then why? If you don’t want to kill me, why would you ask me to stay?”
“Alone,” he admits.
“Do not want to be alone. Do not want you to be, either.”
Yusuf stops short at that, breathing in ragged bursts and slumping against the rigid floor. He’s begun to cry, he realizes, sharp and guttural as if his grief is being bled from a drainage wound.
He’s only helpless for a moment as a claw laces beneath his chin, tilting his head to meet a blackened gaze.
“If I am to be your god,” the behemoth says tenderly, “then-- must protect you.”
The images that flash in the man’s mind are conflicting.
Soft winter mornings in the warmth of his leviathan arms.
The spread of decay, the illness, the mourning.
Making it out together, finding hope.
Being a helpless voyeur to his god's demise.
“How?” Yusuf asks, cradling his dying arm, “How could anybody save me from all this?”
Kallus’s breath hitches as a certain hunger returns to him, yet the shame dissipates knowing that the desire is all his own.
“Sever it and offer it to me.” he says, “Let me have my fill.”
And for the first time in what feels like years, the man smiles.
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Vampire Transformation
M monster X GN reader, 3045 words.
You’ve been experiencing some strange changes in your behavior recently. Can this strange man really make sense of it for you?
You opened your eyes and stared up at the ceiling. For the past few nights, you had been completely unable to sleep.
Nothing had worked. You’d never had any problems with insomnia before. If anything, you’d had the opposite problem; getting out of bed in the morning had been a nightmare. You’d blacked out almost the instant your head had hit the pillow and you’d stayed that way until your alarm went off in the morning.
But in the past week, you’d grown restless the instant the sun vanished from the sky. It was like the sun going down flipped a switch in your body and you were wired. Not only were you not tired, but you were borderline restless. Lying in bed was tantamount to torture- minutes ticked by with agonizing slowness and the energy buzzing inside you made it feel like your skin was crawling.
Every night, the restless feelings got worse until, driven by some odd instinct, you left the house and headed out into the night.
Luckily, you lived in a fairly large city, and in a decent part of it. People wandered the streets at all hours of the night and day, which mean that you were completely inconspicuous. Driven by some odd instinct, you just meandered through the streets, waiting until morning so you could actually collapse.
“Good hunting.” You whirled around. A man was standing uncomfortably close to you. How he’d gotten there without you noticing, you had no idea. But he was there and he fell into step next to you as if you’d invited him to do so. “Didn’t realize there were any others on this turf. You’ll want to stake your claim if you don’t want anyone encroaching.”
You stared at him. Was he in a gang? He was wearing a white button-down and black dress pants with a dark jacket slung over his shoulder, which wasn’t what you considered gang style. He was also incredibly pale, almost glowing in the dark, and quite slender. Nothing about him struck you as a gangbanger. But you couldn’t think about anything else he could be referring to.
“I think you have the wrong person,” you said as carefully as you could manage. The man lifted an eyebrow at you, clearly disbelieving. He seemed to be waiting for you to suddenly go ‘Just kidding!’ When you didn’t, and the silence stretched on, the faint smile he’d been sporting slipped from his face and he gave you a more piercing look.
“You don’t know what I’m talking about, do you?” he said. His voice was softer, and there was a note in it that vacillated between amused and horrified.
“Uh. No,” you said. “Look, I think you have the wrong person. I-”
The man burst out into deep, chesty laughter, even throwing his head back. “I do not,” he said. “But I think I may be a little premature in my questioning. I’ll have to wait a little bit. Until I see you again.”
He didn’t so much vanish as he simply melted away into the night. One moment he was there, the next he’d just simply faded into the shadows and he was gone.
You blinked and swung your gaze back and forth, wondering if he would suddenly pop out of the shadows again. He didn’t return after a few minutes and the buzzing energy inside you prompted you to keep moving. You trotted along the streets.
The instant the sky started to lighten, the switch inside you that had been driving you to move an be outside flipped back the other way. You’d already wandered back to the area your apartment was in, but you still had to practically drag yourself up the stairs and into your bed. The instant your head struck the pillow, you were out.
You were out for nearly two hours before you managed to claw your way back to wakefulness. You only just managed to write out an email to your professor, telling her you weren’t going to be in class that day, before sleep sucked you back down.
You knew it was night when you woke up because your mind was sharp, no longer fogged with sleep. Not only were you focused, but you were hungry. Not a normal hunger, but something that was sharp and painful. It felt like there were shards of glass inside you cutting your stomach to shreds. It was the worst hunger pangs you’d ever experienced.
For a few minutes, you fumbled through your refrigerator, but there was nothing inside that appealed to you. You tried a few bites of your usual favorites, even digging up the pint of ice cream you’d been saving from your freezer. None of it was appealing. Your stomach, ravaged by hunger as it was, turned when you tried to eat a carrot.
The energy of the night was burning through you again and you staggered outside. The urgent need to move, to patrol, blazed in you almost stronger than your hunger.Something was wrong with your head. It was getting harder and harder to focus. It felt like the moments before you fell asleep- your consciousness blinking in and out. You weren’t going unconscious, but it was like your higher thinking was just fading away for a moment, so you were only a bundle of instincts.
You were so hungry. You were starving. Drool welled in your mouth. Food. Eat.
Something delicious wafted near you on the air. It was rich and savory and wonderful. Your conscious mind flickered for one moment, then blinked out. Instinct ruled your mind. You half vanished into the shadows of an alleyway and crouched.
The scent passed by you and you lunged. Your hands landed around his throat and closed with almost crushing strength. He couldn’t make a sound as you pulled him back, slammed him to the ground and plunged your teeth into him.
Thick, coppery liquid welled in your mouth. It was delicious, like biting into the best steak you’d ever had. It filled and soothed the awful pain in your stomach. Little whimpers welled in your throat as you drank and drank.
“I did think I’d find you here.” Someone tapped your shoulder with a foot. “Come on, let him go. You’ve terrified the poor man.”
You released him, spinning to snarl at the intruder. Some distant part of your mind recognized him as the person who had spoken to you the night before. The rest of you recognized him as an enemy. You bared your teeth and a terrible snarl rippled out through your chest.
The man chuckled. “Ooh, scary. Come on, get up.” He tapped you again with the toe of his shoe. You twisted back to look at the enemy and your prey scrambled out from underneath you. “Sorry about her. She’s a newbie, you know. Always hard training the new recruits, you know?”
The man made a motion to bolt out of the alley, managed to get to his feet, then swayed and collapsed. “Blood loss. Poor guy. He’ll be fine, probably. As for you…” The man rounded on you. You gave another deep snarl, making it as threatening as you could. “Look, you’re not as threatening as you’re trying to be by half. Chill.”
He crouched in front of you. His eyes roved over you for a moment. “You’re only about halfway through this, and it’ll get worse before it gets better. Calm down.”
There was a sensation like your mind was being turned inside out and you were suddenly very aware that you were crouched in an alleyway, human blood dribbling down your chin, the collapsed body of a human you’d tried to eat lying behind you.
“Oh my god.” Your voice was high and thin, almost on the edge of breaking. “Oh my god. What the fuck is happening to me?”
“There you go!” The man clapped a hand on your shoulder. “You’re back. Now let’s get the hell out of here. That guy’s gonna wake up and we’re not going to want to be around when he does.”
You were in such a state of shock that you simply allowed him to pull you to your feet and tug you down the street. Blood was still sticky on your chin, but the way he swept his arms around you and held a hand up close to your mouth made it look like he was trying to protect a bleeding cut. It at least seemed to quell any suspicions.
The man hauled you off to a small apartment tucked into a little alcove. It was shabby on the inside, full of the musty smell of dust and with moth-eaten furniture. The man seated you on a couch and fetched a damp cloth. “Wipe your face off. When you eat in the future, don’t dribble it all over your chin. It’s wasteful and really gross.”
You mopped at your face, wiping away the sticky trails of blood. You couldn’t stop shaking. “What is happening to me?”
The man grinned, revealing long, slightly curved fangs that nearly touched his lower lip. “You’ve becoming a vampire. Didn’t you guess that already?”
“I can’t be,” you said flatly. “I’ve never been attacked.”
“Misconception.” The man turned and started to rummage in his small refrigerator. “I mean, not a total misconception. It’s kind of right. Most humans that are turned are bitten. Just not all of them.” He emerged from the refrigerator holding a bottle, the sort people used at the gym for carrying protein shakes. It was full of a thick, pinkish liquid. He thrust it at you.
“What is that?” you asked. You took it cautiously and sniffed at it. It smelled sweet. “Is it blood?”
The man rolled his eyes. “No. It’s a smoothie.” You gave him a skeptical look. Was that sarcasm or something? “I’m not kidding. Just drink.”
You took a sip. It was incredibly thick and berry flavored, though you couldn’t make out any individual fruits. Something about the sugar cleared the remaining clouds in your head. “Vampires drink smoothies?”
The man gave a short, sharp bark of laughter. “No. Not exactly. You’re not really a vampire yet. I don’t know why, but fruit smoothies can soothe the edge of the bloodlust for a little bit. Something about the sugar content or something, I don’t know. Milkshakes are pretty good too.”
“I’m not a vampire? But you just said I was,” you said uncertainly. The man shrugged.
“I said you were turning into a vampire, not that you’re one right now. Name’s Marcus, by the way. I, if you haven’t already guessed, am a full vampire.”
You took another slurp of your smoothie. “But I didn’t get bit by anyone?”
“No. See, vampires don’t just reproduce by biting. We can also reproduce. And sometimes, we reproduce with humans. Usually, it’s not a big deal. Have a little half vampire, usually they grow into a big full vampire and join their parent as a creature of the night. But sometimes, little half vampire looses their vampire traits when they get older. Instead of going with their vampire parent, they grow up as a human. Probably marry a human and have a bunch of little human kids. And then those little human kids grow up and have more human kids, so on and so forth. But the vampire DNA keeps getting passed on and sometimes, if there’s enough of a push, the vampire traits can emerge.”
You pulled the pieces together. “I have a vampire in my family tree?”
“More than one, probably. It’s more common to have that side emerge if there’s a push from both sides of the family. It’s a genetic hiccup, or a throwback. For whatever reason, you have enough vampire in you for that bit to assert itself. By the end of the week, you’ll be a full vampire.”
You stared at him, swallowing hard. “In a week.”
“Yes. Roughly.” Marcus sat forward a little in his seat and gave you a smile. It was clearly intended to be friendly, but the enormous canines just didn’t allow it. “And I am going to help you.”
You weren’t entirely sure how it happened, but within two days, you were patrolling the city with Marcus. The smoothies were no longer taking the edge off your bloodlust and Marcus, after teaching you as much vampire lore as you could stand, decided that practical learning was also important.
“This is my territory,” he said, trotting down a street. “It covers five city blocks, which isn’t the biggest territory, but there’s a lot of competition in the city. But at least it has enough humans in it.”
You looked around. Marcus had kept insisting that all vampires could sense where their territory ended and another’s began, but you couldn’t sense anything. All you were really aware of was that everyone who passed you smelled really good and the electric lights were piercingly bright.
“All right?” Marcus asked. You squinted up at him. The streetlight behind him haloed his strong facial features in a shimmering light.
“It’s bright,” you complained.
“The lights? Your eyes will get a little more used to it when the changing settles down. For now, I have a pair of sunglasses somewhere.” He patted the pockets of his long coat. It swooshed around him when he moved and looked appropriately vampire-esque.
Your gums itched and prickled and mild aches suffused your body. You slumped against a wall, grimacing. There was an unsettling feeling in the pit of yours stomach, and you were pretty sure that wasn’t just nerves. Something in you was changing.
“Here you go!” Marcus slid the glasses onto your face, somehow managing not to poke you in the eye. You readjusted them carefully. They were easy to see through, even at night. “Are you okay?”
You realized that, over the last few minutes, you had been leaning more and more heavily on the wall for support. Your knees felt a little like jelly. “Um. I don’t feel very well.” Your gums were pulsing and waves of alternating hot and cold flooded your body.
Marcus took hold of your shoulder and gently pushed you into an alleyway. “Sit here for a minute. I’ll be right back.”
He bolted off and you placed your head between your knees. Things seemed to be squirming under your skin. You were flushed, but chills worked their way over your body. It felt like you’d come over with a sudden and terrible bout of the flu.
Something thumped to the ground in front of you. A delicious smell wafted up to you and the pulsing in your gums sharpened to a painful throbbing.
“Drink,” Marcus said. One of his hands slid down your back and he lifted the body he’d dropped in front of you to your mouth. You lunged forward, biting into the soft flesh and gulping the blood that spilled forth.
You were much neater this time, gulping down almost every drop. After only a few delicious mouthfuls, Marcus detached you. “You’re shivering,” he said. You were, and the squirming of your innards was only getting worse.
Marcus leaned you back against the wall. “Hey, I was slightly off in my timing,” he said. His voice was pitched oddly, like he was trying to be soothing, but he was barely suppressing panic himself. “You’re making the full shift to vampire now.”
Your eyes popped open and you stared wildly at him. “What?”
Marcus ignored your obvious panic and hauled you up into his arms. Carefully, he swung you around and onto his back. “Hold on tight,” he said.
It was not easy to hold onto the back of a vampire going at full speed. Motion sickness made your head spin and you squeezed your eyes shut and buried your face into the back of his neck. His smell was stronger than you’d ever smelled it before, sort of earthy and pleasant. You found yourself breathing deeply.
With a jerk, Marcus dug his feet into the ground and came to a stop. You clung to him, startled, until his hands worked your fingers loose from around his neck.
You in the middle of a sparsely forested area. Still in the city, from what you could hear. A park, then. Marcus offered you his coat and you slipped it on. “Wanted to get you away from people, somewhere relatively quiet. You’ll be disoriented for a moment when you wake up. It’s better to be somewhere like this.”
“Wake up?” Your voice was slurred.
“You’re going to pass out. But it’ll be all right. I’ll be right here.”
You felt like you were falling asleep rapidly. A tingling numbness crept up through your legs, then your arms, crawling toward your neck. Your eyes opened once, to see Marcus smiling gently down at you. Then they fell shut and you fell into darkness.
The first thing you were aware of was the smell. It invaded your senses, permeated your brain. There were unpleasant scents far away, some appealing ones that made your mouth water, and, close by, the earthy smell of dirt and wood and, closest of all, a pleasant, slightly earthy, slightly spiced scent.
You opened your eyes. It was bright. Really bright, almost daytime bright. But you could see, beyond the trees, that the moon was still out. You ran your tongue along your teeth. Your canines were extended and they itched a little.
“Feeling okay?” You turned your head. Marcus was leaning over you, a slight grin on his face. The moonlight seemed to make his skin glow and there was something mesmerizing in his eyes.
“Woah,” you said. Marcus grinned.
“I could say something similar,” he said. “Hungry?”
Your stomach twisted and you nodded. “Starving.” Marcus tugged you to your feet.
As he led you out of the park, you became more aware of the territory boundaries. You could sense them, somehow, like glowing lines along the ground. It made you a little unsettled.
“You’re not kicking me out, are you?” you asked. Marcus grinned, canines glinting.
“No. I like you too much for that,” he said. “Now, let’s go. We’ve got some hunting to do.”
Together, you ran off into the night.
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The New Legends of Monkey: Season 2 Thoughts
So, I am a bit disappointed that our fandom is so darn tiny at the moment, but I think ima dwell on all the great stuff this season gave us instead : )
GREAT and not so great STUFF AS FOLLOWS:
- WOW this season looked so good. I mean, it just seemed a lot more polished in terms of the aesthetic and the fights and all that. Seriously impressed with the upgrades
-Um, the plant? The Sandy development we got? Simply fantastic. We got more exploration of her character, some exciting fight scenes where she kicked butt and plenty of bonding with each member of the crew. Honestly was so scared that she would be overlooked, but she wasn’t. What an interesting, dynamic character. I really can’t wait for her powers and the deep sadness inside her to be explored.
-Tripitaka really is a Disney princess, huh? She completely drives the narrative forward and hold the one and only brain cell in the entire group. Even though I don’t find her quite as easy to love as Sandy, I do still admire her for being so strong and independent. This girl had to make a handful of REAL tough decisions this season and I applaud her. Constantly assaulted by doubts from everyone around her, constantly underestimated. Made of steel, this one.
-MONKEY. SO MUCH TO SAY ABOUT THIS ONE. Legitimately the most complicated character in this whole darn show. He’s self centred and egotistical, but cares so deeply for everyone. He fights non-stop with Tripitaka, but she’s canonically tHE WORLD TO HIM. He just seems so young in some ways, and so old in others. Half the time you know exactly what he’s about to do, and half the time you don’t. In all honesty, I don’t know whether it’s good writing or bad writing, but I was most definately invested. And now he’s essentially been reborn?! Like, will he remember anything? UGH, I just cannot keep up with him. I’m constantly on the edge of my seat whenever he’s on screen. I love it.
-Pigsy.... probably the most frustrating part of the show. Not him, of course, but all the fat jokes. Like, guys, I’m getting some serious Hunk (Voltron) flashbacks here. PLEASE don’t let his personality be fat jokes, dry humour and cooking. There was almost no real development for him this season, and I am underwhelmed. Like, come on, guys. Monkey gets to be half jokes and half serious, so why not Pigsy? Why let us get attached to him and invested in his trauma if you were just going to turn him into a laugh? Maybe I’m exaggerating here, but it seriously did bug me. Fingers crossed that things change.
-ROMANCE DISCUSSION TIME. Tripkey. Let’s talk about this.
I was kind of upset that they lead us on to quite the extent in season one, and then dropped the romance almost entirely in season two and replaced it with bickering, but I have to remind myself that it isn’t that big of a deal. I mean, shipping isn’t the only reason I watch. So, I’m a bit salty, but not McDonalds fries salty. You know? At least we got a couple moments. And we’re probably gonna get another season, if all goes well. There’s still time. Maybe Tripitaka needed to lose Monkey to understand his value? I mean, there was A LOT of arguing between them until the whole dark!Monkey thing happened. I think she needs to understand that, despite his faults, he is one of her best friends. She isn’t just his babysitter. So, even if they don’t end up together romantically, I’d be mostly satisfied if they just both came to grips with their love- platonic or otherwise.
-OK, so, the villains. Plenty of pros and cons to go with this one. At times they seemed really dumb, at times they were reasonably intimidating, and, at times, downright confusing. I mean, that moth lady definitely seemed like she was telling a lie with that flashback with the fake Monkey and Tripitaka! But it wasn’t brought up again! And that red hand dude was so boring. The blue guard lady was at least kind of interesting. Funnily enough, the forest-keeper-of-the-scroll lady was probably the most interesting villain. She had real motive. She wasn’t completely evil. I thought she was neat. Her, and (of course) dark!Monkey. Wow. Like, they probably should have introduced him earlier, but he was SO well done. I mean, the fight scenes with him were amazing. The design was great. His dynamic with Monkey made a lot of sense. I mean, he’s essentially the demon version of him. Both have a need for attention and a love for fun, but one values human life and the other does not. Very clear distinction, very interesting to watch. Despite not hating his clone, Monkey realized that, to protect what was most important to him, he needed to destroy it. It really makes you wonder what Monkey’s true motization is- the quest, or just protecting his friends? It’s just amazing to watch him transform when he gets serious about something.
-Puppet master dude. Knew pretty early on that he was pulling the strings, but still loved the reveal. I thought that he was a much more interesting villain than just “strong armour demon”. Not much to say about him, but he was good.
-Extra little things: The love potion scene was pure fanservice, and kind of hilarious and kind of cringy. Still processing that bit.
The boy was cool. I liked him. Didn’t love him, but liked him. I thought it was good for Tripitaka to have a decently sane person around for a change. Always in the mood for appreciating the absolute gems that are decent child actors.
MONICA IS EVIL NOW- LIKE, WHAT?! DEMON LADY BACK. ME SCREAM. Hopefully bad boi Devarri makes a comeback to team up with her. I lowkey need to know what the heck happened.
Fake!Tripitaka... was he that boy seen in the flashback burning the body with Monica but disguised? If not, how did he return to life? If so, how did that monk boy have the magic to disguise himself?
I think that’s all the notes I have right now. I know we’re all starving for content, so I thought I’d toss this out into the interwebs. Fingers crossed that our fandom grows a bit more!
#tnlom#tnlom spoilers#the new legends of monkey#tripitaka#tripkey#pigsy#sandy#netflix#monkey#dark!monkey#chai hanson#Luciane Buchanan#josh thompson#emilie cocqurerel#ugh i need more content#darn pandemic#time to turn my attention to fanfiction#: D
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Hey there! Hope you’re doing okay😊 I just finished reading your Feitan yandere-ish kidnapper fic and I’m totally hooked on it, I love it so much. Would you maybe be willing to write a part 2 of it pretty please?😁 If not that’s okay, then at least you know I liked it a lot!
I actually was kind of hoping someone would ask me to do this, I had plans for it! Sorry about the slow content, I’ve just been having a little writers block and a very minor mental mixup (try saying that ten times fast-) these past few days but I’m doing okay! Nothing too bad. And thank you so much, I’m so glad you liked it! Here’s part two for you~ hope you enjoy 😊
You quietly tried to flip over under the several layers of blankets, hoping he wouldn’t feel you moving. He didn’t react. You took a soft breath and turned your back to him completely. Your eyes immediately descry the small alarm clock on the bedside table. Reading ‘1:42 AM’ made your heart sink. It had been several months since you had seen anyone besides him. You couldn’t recall exactly how many, but you assumed it to have been a year almost. It was difficult to remember. Everything went by so slowly when you were with him.
He tried to pretend everything was normal. He tried to pretend he didn’t force you into his life. He tried to pretend you were his girlfriend. At first, after he let you out of that crawl space of a room, you refused to play along, never responding to question. Never eating what he made for you, though they were always your favorites. The man had become intolerably sweet and even told you his name. Feitan Portor.
Some form of confidence had forged its way into your veins and convinced you that you didn’t have to take this. He let you out, and you didn’t think about the consequences. You had no idea where this new attitude had even came from. Soon enough, he got tired of your ‘act’. He enforced punishments for your actions. If you didn’t respond to conversation, you’d be forced down into isolation again with no contact for days. He wouldn’t see to any of your needs until you were practically begging for his attention. For something. Anything.
Hence, you laid with him every night. The thought of those sleepless nights in his basement all alone, with only the company of the moths fluttering in and out of the window you shattered in the torture chamber as they tittered against the steel door. It made you shudder.
You hadn’t realized your mistake until you felt him shift behind you. You felt every muscle in your body tense at the sound. A grumbled groan slipped out of his mouth. You didn’t dare to check and see if he had actually woken.
A slim yet firm arm draped over your side, drawing you closer to his chest. Your breath caught in your throat. You refrained from shaking in fear that any movement might rouse him. You stayed like that for what felt like hours, watching the clock chime on minute by minute. Second by second. Your hands were growing numb from holding them under your head and pillow. You felt the deep swell of anxiety start to die down after about an hour. Though you still couldn’t manage to move a limb. You took deep, even breaths, trying to simulate sleeping so he wouldn’t notice.
He stayed like that for the rest of the night, holding you close and keeping your body in check. You started moving again, trying to signal that you were going to get up. However, to your surprise, he didn’t move. His grip stayed strong around your torso. You took a breath again, trying to wiggle your way out. He didn’t budge. You’d have to wait it out. Whenever he got up was whenever he got up. Another hour passed. And then another. Until it was 6 am.
Another rustle from behind you, a groan, and then he flipped over. You let go of your breath, moving to get up. Quietly, you pushed the blankets off of your body. Sweat dripped down your legs and my back. You had no idea why he kept so many blankets. It was searingly hot in his bedroom. You made an attempt not to trip over anything or knock stuff down. You held onto the wall gently, making your way around the bed to the door. You turned around to look at his sleeping face.
With his eyes closed, he didn’t look like himself. He was so vulnerable like this. You were used to the unnerving alertness in his expressions and movements. His pale face was slack against the pillow. You didn’t turn away from him as you cracked the door open. You took another deep breath, trying to stop the shaking and relax again before leaving the room.
Trying to escape again was futile. There was no use. Yes he was sleeping and yes it would have been easy to just get out and run, but you would be lost before you could even manage a few yards from the house. Even if he didn’t find you outside in the woods, you’d most likely freeze to death or starve before you could find a way out. Though nonetheless, you searched for something again, anything to be used as some sort of weapon. You doubted you would find anything. You had tried several times before to go against him. To hurt him. He locked you up again and hid everything out of sight. Anything that could be used was nowhere to be found.
Not only that, but the locks on the doors and windows were complicated. They couldn’t just be picked with a bobby pin or a lock pick. They were precise. You may have been skilled in lock picking, but this was a whole different matter.
Footsteps. Heavy and low energy. You quickly turned on your heel to rush to the bathroom across from his room. Closing the door and locking it, you stood over the sink, shaking and sweating all over again. Your bodyweight felt burdensome to hold onto, your bones and muscles failing to hold you up. You heard the door open and close softly. Heavy thuds thundered down the hall to the bathroom door. He tried for it.
“Y/n? Are you in there?” his voice rumbled through the wood. For a moment you didn’t answer.
“Y/n?” he tried again.
“Yes…” you responded weakly, “Yes I’m here…” your fingers dug into the white marble of the sink, causing your knuckles to whiten and crack. There was nothing after your reply. You washed your hands, trying to scrub off something that wasn’t there. Suddenly the door creaked open. You gasped, turning to face it, your back hitting the end of the sink. You could have sworn you had locked it.
He entered. Though he wasn’t very tall, he was quite intimidating nonetheless. His aura nearly covered the entire doorway. Your own small frame had somehow managed to shrink against the sink. Your breathing was sporadic. You didn’t think he was going to hurt you, but then again a part of you did. You knew well of what he was capable of.
“Good morning y/n. How did you sleep?” he questioned you, tilting his head as he shut the door behind him.
“I- I slept fine Feitan, thank you… did you uh…”
“I did, thank you.” he smiled, cutting you off sharply. There was something about the passive tone that set you off. These past few days, he had been gentle with you. Physically and emotionally. You sighed, moving away from the sink. He stood in front of the mirror, not taking his eyes off of you. Everything felt hot and cold at the same time. You hadn’t noticed that your breathing stopped again almost entirely.
Instead of brushing his teeth or looking at himself, he moved to stand in front of you, hands in his pockets. His eyes looked sympathetic.
“Are you alright y/n?” his voice was low. Despite the short height, he knew his place above you. He stayed dominant. It had been nearly a year and you still couldn’t shake off the feeling of pure terror and dread that those onyx eyes filled you with. He was just asking if you were okay. That was it. Why couldn’t you answer him?
“Yeah… I just had a bad night of rest…” you lied, terribly. He could see right through it. However, he made no comment, instead letting a smirk play at his lips.
“Maybe you should rest some more then.” he offered. You forced air down your throat, gulping down a reply. You had nothing to say. Or at least nothing you could think of to say. You fiddled with your hands, tugging lightly at your fingers. Feitan didn’t move either, keeping his hands in his pockets. He was messing with something in them. Though you couldn’t see them, his fingers caressed over something several times. You didn’t ask, afraid he’d get upset.
You didn’t let your eyes linger too long over the object. Blinking, you glanced down at the floor instead.
“Y-you’re probably right, Feitan.” you said his name to feed into his dominant nature. He seemed pleased with the action. Feitan slid over to the side so you could leave the bathroom. You did. As soon as the door was shut, you let out a breath you didn’t realize you had been holding. What was in his pocket? It was yours, wasn’t it? Or maybe you were just overthinking it. Maybe it was someone else’s. Maybe another girls’?For some reason that made you sick, you felt the ache of jealousy throb in the back of your head and in your temples. You shouldn’t have been jealous. This man had kidnapped you and tortured you and left you alone for days on end. He kept you locked up in a basement for the first few months you knew him. Though, something about the thought of him being with someone else made your skin prickle. The thought that he didn’t want you anymore. The thought that you weren’t good enough, or that you hadn’t been good enough, for him. The thought of being alone again.
You let your body sink against the cool comfort of the wall, your legs curling into you and your arms crossing over your stomach. Your head fell forward, an attempt to block out everything going on. Instead, the darkness invited more thoughts of what could possibly happen.
Escape was utterly pointless and you might as well be considered suicide. You couldn’t stay here much longer, you needed to go somewhere. Somewhere else, outside. Even if just in the yard. Even for just a few minutes. You hadn’t built that much trust from Feitan yet though, and with the way your mind was spiraling, you didn’t know if you could make it long enough to gain that trust. You had to. You had to at least try. Maybe even ask when he left the bathroom. He would say no, but it was worth a shot. You had to regain some sort of sanity. Being locked up like this all the time would only progress your pessimism.
The metal clink of the doorknob as it turned disturbed your train of thought. Your body jumped open into a defensive yet submissive position on the floor, springing back in the small hallway on your elbows and your legs ready to kick out at any time. Your chest stopped heaving when Feitan came out to check on you. His brows furrowed at you on the floor.
“I thought you went to the bedroom?” he stated plainly, shutting the light off in the bathroom. You shook your head, dizzying yourself in the process. You raised a hand to your temple to calm down the spinning of the world. Feitan made no move to help you, continuing to stare down at you. You held onto the wall for support while you pushed your legs to stand upright. You forced your eyes to meet his. Quickly, you averted your gaze again. You couldn’t hold eye contact. Not with him. Feitan must have known something was up. He stayed in his spot in the hallway in front of you.
“What is the matter with you?” he sounded more irritated now than earlier. You scraped the corners of your mind for something to say. Asking to go outside was probably a bad idea right about now, but it wouldn’t probably be your only chance to actually ask the question and have an excuse to back it up.
“I was wondering… um… if you’d let me out… just out in the yard for a few minutes...that’s it.” your voice withered as you continued the sentence. There was no change in his expression yet again. His hand dove back into his pocket for the item he withheld from you. He hummed, closing his eyes for a second and then opening them to smile down at you.
“Maybe another time, for now, you stay inside with me.”
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My first Julian x Apprentice smut and fluff!
Or any smut and fluff for that matter! Please be gentle with me I'm really a wee little babe in arms when it comes to fanfic.
(it's a oneshot)
(which is how i imagine julian to be like)
(like you know he does a one shot and boom you're pregnant)
(ok I'll just shut up and write)
(just wanna thank @4biddenleeches for the inspiration! and @arcana-choices for sharing the scenes!)
(how do I do those after the cut things!)
(please give me feedback, bad or good - it's the only way i can improve!)
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Setting: at Mazelinka's home
Kind of in line with what happened but deviates a bit?
Sorry I'm a total noob
Is it right to say lemon?
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I can't believe I kissed him when all I was supposed to do was to feed him soup.
But his lips were glowing rose red against his pale creamy skin... and oh how the colour leapt to his cheeks when our lips met.. oh, if only Mazelinka hadn't come in...
When she asked me if I wanted to sleep with him or in the cubby hole, what was I supposed to say?
And so I meekly settled for the cubby hole.
Ilya. Even the Cyrillic syllables taste like honey on my lips. But it feels like I've known him forever. Two things in life don’t lie - love and magic. I guess this is what love at first sight feels like - the invisible thread tying us together. I can see it, but can he? I can see ourselves together, warming our toes by the hearth while tangled up in sheets, kissing each other by the lamplight, but does he?
I can't breathe, with the thought of him mere inches away from me. We're separated by that moth-eaten curtain that shows more than it’s supposed to hide. Like my face, I think wryly.
I can still hear him moving around the room, flitting like a bird in a cage. A clink, and his boot drops on the floor. And then the other boot. A rustle of his overcoat, a stretch of leather - it's almost too much to bear. I close my eyes, listening, imagining my hands on his hips, his thighs, my lips on his mouth, moving downwards -
Just peep. He won't know anyway. Go on, you may never get this chance again. It's just a look. Nothing's going to happen, right?
I silently draw back the folds of the curtain, my flushed face peeping. In the dim light, I catch a glimpse of his auburn hair and his eyepatch strapped across his tousled head. He lifts the eyepatch off and lets it fall to the floor. I've seen his red sclera while his eyepatch shifted we were running from the guards. The magic within me senses some wound buried deep in his memory. I want to reach out, comfort him, hold him...
My rumination is broken when I see him reach over his shoulders and toss his chemise on the bed. He's in his breeches now, barefoot. He shifts, bending slightly. Despite myself, I lean forward, eager for more when I -
"Enjoying the view, my dear?"
I startle, crashing through the curtain, thrown off by the timbre of his voice.
I land at his feet, just as he turns. My gaze slowly travels upwards. His feet, large and solidly planted against the floor. His calves, sinewy. His thighs, slender yet revealing just a hint of the strength that lies underneath. I force my gaze away. Up and up towards his ivory abs and chest, broad, speckled with ginger. His neck - sinuous, long, with the mark I've seen glow before. My gaze finally stops at his face, framed by his chiselled jaw, and his high cheekbones. Cheekbones I wished just minutes ago I could plant kisses along. His lips, sensuous against his pale face. I gaze into his eyes, one reddened like a poppy, the other calm, with glass grey eyes like a sheet of rain. His auburn hair, ablaze by the flickering candlelight.
Please don't smirk please don't smirk please don't -
He smirked. The damned plague doctor smirked.
How did he know I was peeping? As if he read my mind, he peered at me and grinned.
"There's a mirror. I could see your feet."
Damn. Asra always said I was clever, but I forgot real world physics.
Oh, he thinks he's so smart? I’m emboldened. I stand up, dust my clothes off and stride towards him. His eyes widen.
“I’m sorry, it was a joke, please don’t hur-”
Ears burning, blood rushing to my face. I won’t be so foolish when I’ve been given a second chance by the gods. The thread that I can see tying my heart to him glows. I stop, inches before his face. He swallows, his Adam apple visibly vibrating, intrigue written all over his face.
And then I reach up and kiss him. I close my eyes, and kiss him again, and again, and again. Biting his lips, tasting his essence, his very being, nuzzling my face in his chest, the scent of my desire intertwining with his musky sweat. He stands still. Is he going to push me away? Does he like this? Was I too presumptuous?
There's only one way to find out.
I touch him. He shudders, like a spring rattling with energy, waiting to be uncoiled. I touch his face, his cheek, his shoulders, his chest. I touch him like I’ve been starved of the sense of touch for my entire life and am just learning how it feels like to touch someone. I brush my hands down his back, down his chest, curling my fingers and threading it through the silky ginger hairs on his chest. I caress his nipples - Ilya sighs and closes his eyes, and moves his arms to encircle me.
“Drop them.”
Ilya starts, his eyes flying open. He can hear the raspiness in my voice, but he’s confused.
“I- I thought that...”
All my life, I’ve always been meek. Subservient. Even Asra made decisions for me - unconfident of myself and my abilities. But in Ilya, I somehow find the strength to dominate him, to take the lead. I grin at him.
“I didn’t say you could move. You only move when I tell you to, do what I tell you to.”
Ilya blushes. Somehow I think he’s enjoying this. Who would have thought that this suave, polished doctor would go to pieces being led?
“Oh, you can hold me any way you want. Just hold me, make use of me, I don’t mind. Just tell me what to do, say the word and I’ll do it.”
Ilya smiles, a slow, lazy smile of contentment creeping up his face. I move my hands to his breeches and thumb the waist line. He makes a strangled sound.
“I didn’t tell you to move, did I? Looks like you’ll have to be punished.”
He closes his eyes and stays still. I can see it’s taking every bit of his self-control not to hold me, to keep his hands clenched by his side, willing it to stay down. This should be fun.
I brush my fingertips over the bulge between his loins. He involuntarily starts but remembers my command and stays still with great effort. I rub my palm over his thighs, skip my hand lightly over his inner thighs and then move my focus back to his loins.
With a swift motion, I push him back to the bed. His legs stick out, his bottom on the bed, looking at me with hooded eyes and a blush staining his cheeks. I drop to my knees, face to his loins. I reach down his pants and free his sex. It’s certainly happy to see me - stiff, red and long, glistening in the candlelight. He groans.
I’ve never done this before, but I instinctively move my hands around his sex and kiss the tip. He throws his head back, and recalls himself.
“I promise I won’t make a sound - hng - just - hahh - kiss me and touch me any way you like. I promise, I’ll be good.”
My hands move faster and faster, fingers forming a ring around his sex and stroking it, varying my speed. It’s taking all he’s got not to thrash around. His auburn curls peeping out from his breeches wink at me in the pale moonlight.
“Hngg- ah- I- ung”
He’s choking his sounds down, so I move towards his sex and nestle my face in those auburn curls. He immediately groans, unable to take it. I up the ante by sticking my tongue out, tasting the sweet liquid oozing out of his sex. He looks so tortured, poor boy. His face flushes red, and he grips the sheets of the bed in agony.
His sex is erect, fine, long. I have never been with a man before, but I know that tonight, come what may, I want to be Ilya's.
All of a sudden, I know what to do. I stand up and whip off my clothes. Divested of my outer layers, standing in my undergarments, my chest rubbing into his face, he leans forward, taking in my scent of arousal. At this point, I groan and ask him to touch my nipples. He pushes my chemise to the side and takes my breasts reverently, squeezing them, testing their firmness, cupping them. I throw my head back in delight and pleasure. He's placing his hands on my chest, twiddling the nubs of joy. I close my eyes. He stops. He’s unsure of himself, so I tell him to continue. He nods his head eagerly and rubs his face against my chest, bounces my chest from side to side, and takes one bud into his mouth, tongue darting around it, licking it, savouring it.
"Take off your breeches.”
“Gladly, my dear. You only have to say the word.”
He removes his mouth from my breast, giving it a kiss. His sex springs forth fully as he stands up and bends down to remove his ankles from the last vestiges of his pants. He takes off my undergarments. We embrace and tumble back onto the bed together, giggling softly.
“Ilya. Il-ly-ah. Stay still my sweet.” He immediately stays still, stiff as a board, moaning, his sex rubbing against my stomach, a clarion reminder of his desire, his arousal. For me, I think wonderingly. Amazed at how much he desires me, how much he wants me.
I pin him down on his chest with my palm and hitch myself over him. I lift myself off again and feel his sex at my entrance. I'm unsure. How is his large size going to fit?
On cue, Ilya takes his sex and rubs it slowly at my entrance, moistening it. Liquid pools and I feel his sex, insistent against my entrance, sliding in slowly.
"It's going to hurt for a short time but I promise you it'll get better. If it's too much, you can tell me. I'll be gentle."
Damned plague doctor. How did he know he's the first? The thought is pushed out of my mind by a sharp pain which winds me over. He reaches up his hands to my shoulders, stilling me, as if by holding me he can remove the pain. Looking into my eyes, he mutters an apology and continues his progress. It hurts, and suddenly, it doesn't. I can feel him moving in me, his girth, me tight and snug against him.
He bucks his hips upward, holding my hips. I've never felt like this before, such pleasure, such wild abandon. Sweat drips down my front and rolls into his bellybutton. He reaches a finger down and tastes it. My mind floats amongst the realms, I can feel the magic in me growing stronger. He grows, possesses me, I sheathe him with every thrust and buck of his hips. He reaches up to the very core of me, and he strokes me, my breasts, my hips, to make sure I'm alright.
"Ung, ah, my dear I'm going to hold back till you're alright. Don't mind me - uh, ah, mff", he groans, pulling me to rest against his chest. The bed creaks with every dip. He reaches his hand into the narrow crevice between our bodies and strokes my clit. I cry out in shock and awe.
"Do you like it? I hope it's okay for you, I - uh, oh, ohhhh, uhh - just hang on", he whispers.
With his thrusting, stroking and gently murmured words of encouragement against my ear, I'm flying, lost amongst the universe, until suddenly I feel myself melting amongst an explosion of stars. I scream out his name. Over and over again. Ilya, oh Ilya, Ilya, my Ilya.
I'm slick, I'm wet, panting and unravelling. I collapse against him. He lifts my chin up and smiles, and flips me over just like that.
"May I, my darling, my sunshine, my love?"
A well of tenderness rushes up in my chest. He called me my love. Will he know that I've made up my mind to always be in his corner, cheer him on, fight for him, uplift him? Will he know that I'm here for him, with all his flaws and complexities and insecurities?
As if in answer, he stops, gives a sigh and a grunt and releases, spent. My well, already wet, is soaked. He reaches over, patting my still quivering, trembling nub below till it quiets down. I close my eyes, blind to the world except to his face.
He lets out a sob. Startled, I look into his face, tears freely dripping down his nose.
"That was beautiful... I never knew it could be like that...I've wanted you since the day I saw you in your shop...but I didn't dare, look at me, a monster, a fugitive, how could I even dare to look at you, hold you, I-"
I still his words with a kiss and intertwine my limbs with his long ones, holding him close, stroking his hair till he falls asleep. Once I hear his rhythmic somnambulance, I gently disentangle myself and stand at the window. I blow a prayer of gratitude upwards, for giving me this one night.
Then I shut the window again, draw the curtains and join Ilya back in bed, watching the candle burn out, holding him till the dawn comes.
#julian devorak smut#julian devorak#the arcana#the arcana julian#julian x apprentice#doctor ilya#ilya devorak#ilyushka devorak#fluff#julians route#the arcana lemon
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House of the Damned Chapter One: BLOOD AFFAIR
Summary: Lust is neither love nor passion, it is but a starving beast driven mad by thirst and unyielding desire. A natural hunger akin to flame. As a daughter of the Church, a trial of purity is thrust upon you when a series of events leads you to live in a manor with six vampire brothers who are eager to possess you and claim their birthright as the strongest of the bat clan descended from Vlad.
Pairing: Taemin X Female Reader, SuperM X Female Reader
Genre: Vampire romance, Diabolik Lovers Crossover
Word Count: 7.2k+
Warning: Use of foul language and scenes with non consensual circumstances
Authors Note: Most dialogue in this story is from the Diabolik Lovers game Haunted Dark Bridal Translated by maichiruhanabira and used with permission. It is not all my original work and will follow the DL game story with some extended or altered scenes. For original content read my other works, this work will be a side project since I am a fan of the game. If you are unfamiliar with Diabolik Lovers then I hope you enjoy surprise aspects of the plot.
“Once beloved of mine, I never possessed you and yet you still haunt me.
Your absence stirs a great longing within me unquenchable by time.
Should fate take you from me again and into the shadow of another man’s arms I shall end this cruel existence.
I curse destined prophecy, I curse you in your winter’s grave.
Heartless temptress, mistress divine, your crimson kiss is now a distant shadow dancing across hot desert sands.”
You woke from your strange dream and the alluring voice that accompanied it in a haze as the car bumped along the uneven roads leading you deeper into the middle of nowhere. Since landing on the soil of Emberwater you’d asked residents of the small town for directions to Hawthorn Hill and every time they’d waved you away saying that the estate had been vacant for years or that the place was haunted. Finally, you’d found one old woman who’d been a little too willing to help at last. Her eyes had been glossed over and you realized then that she was blind. She’d told you that her son would be happy to drive you to the estate free of charge to which you graciously accepted.
You hadn’t placed much stock in the townfolk’s superstitions until you saw the manor from your window at last. This may be a mistake indeed. What could Father be thinking sending me off to stay in a place like this? Is this really where my relatives live?
You still remembered the look on your father’s face just two days before as he hurriedly packed not only his bags but yours as well, stuffing things here and there frantically as if he was running away from someone.
“I don’t understand why I can’t go with you to Europe, Father? What will happen to the church when you leave? You’ve only just come back from your last overseas trip, please don’t leave me again!” You could feel the tears forming in your eyes and you wiped them away angrily.
“Honey, don’t cry we’ve been over this.” His voice was surprisingly stern and it unsettled you further. He was always so gentle with you and his behavior now really set you on edge. “While I’m gone I’ll be passing on Church affairs to pastor Remiel. This job is simply one I cannot decline, they have requested that I go personally and in the meantime, you will be off at a nice private school and staying with distant relations of mine, the family is an old companion of the Church.”
“Which relations?” You asked.
“I haven’t told you about them since we are rather estranged, they are quite aristocratic but they will take care of you.” He said, running a hand through his graying hair and looking more tired than ever. “It’s painful for me to leave you as well but please try to understand my position. I go where the Lord tells me and you my daughter know better than to go against his will.”
He came closer then and kissed your forehead. His eyes fell to the delicate silver crucifix embedded with pink sapphires that lay around your neck. He’d given it to you at birth, ‘a prized Church heirloom made of blessed silver’ he’d said when you had asked him long ago if it had belonged to your dead mother. “Finish packing, you leave tomorrow night.” He said, before giving you a final hug and walking out the front door with his suitcase.
As you approached this pompous estate now, you were half-filled with awe and more than a little bit of hesitation. You thanked the old woman’s son for driving you so far and started walking up the path, duffel bag in hand. The manor was quite large and elegant in the way that a royal castle would be you supposed if the castle was one from a horror movie or gothic novel. Vines with small orange roses covered the yellow-painted brick in a pleasing fashion but you couldn’t shake the eerie atmosphere and dark windows that seemed to send a chill throughout your body.
Perhaps it only looks this way at night? You thought hopefully. Just then a loud crash of thunder boomed, making you jump. It began to pour so heavily then that even though you ran the rest of the way to the overhang you were already wet. You lifted the heavy brass knocker and pounded on the door.
“Excuse me?” You yelled when there was no answer. The storm must have muffled any sounds you made. Or maybe the rumors were true about the manor being haunted and you should just leave. But surely father wouldn’t send me to a haunted manor. The Church would never wish one of its members to be associated with such an unholy place.
Just then the door creaked open on its own and you wished for the thousandth time on your journey that your father had just taken you with him. But thinking rationally the door couldn’t have opened by itself, perhaps someone was hiding behind it?
“Excuse me!” You shouted again, even louder this time, “Is anyone home? My father pastor Gabriel, he must have told you I’d be arriving.” When there was still no answer you stepped into the manor and closed the heavy door behind you. No way could this door be unhinged by just the wind. You dropped your bag on the floor and entered the foyer. No one was there but the manor did seem lived in at least. You rubbed the cold away from your limbs as you explored deeper.
The hall was clean but dim, lit only by a few candelabras that you passed as you walked into the living room. You marveled at the plush red carpet and sofas as well as the tall ceiling, there was a grand staircase as well but what really caught your eye was the roaring fireplace. You hurried to it and dried off as best you could. This is getting a bit freaky no one is here.
You reached for your phone but another flash of lightning made you jump and it slid from your hands. In that single burst of light you could have sworn you saw the shadow of a person lounging on one of the sofas but perhaps it was just your mind playing tricks on you. You moved to grab your phone only to find you were not mistaken. There was a person laying on the sofa fast asleep. You must have missed him in the darkness but you’d been certain you were alone.
“U-um… E-excuse me?” You said, hesitant to wake him. The boy continued sleeping so you went on a bit louder, “I’d like to speak to the owner?”
When he didn’t answer you again you moved to touch his pale hand only to find it incredibly cold. You moved closer and waved your hand in front of his nose and felt nothing. He was so still his chest didn’t even rise and fall. Is he dead! You thought with alarm, your heart began to race frantically and painfully. You knelt on the floor beside the sofa and clutched at your chest. These attacks were happening more and more frequently and you knew it was best for your health if you didn’t freak out. There was a ringing in your ears like a voice repeatedly calling out for help. You breathed in and out trying to slow your racing heart.
You started to dial an ambulance for the boy when suddenly his eyes flashed open and his hand grabbed your wrist to stop you. You screamed loudly in surprise and tried to pull away but his grip was too strong.
“Shut up.” He said, turning his steely gaze on you.
“Excuse me! Let go now!” You shouted and tried to pull away again. He tilted his head and looked at you from head to toe curiously.
“What’s with you squealing in my ear?” He said sitting up on the sofa.
“But just a minute ago…” You said trailing off.
“Just a minute ago what?” He said with a small amused smile. “I was just sleeping comfortably in my own house. Is that a crime?
“J-just sleeping? But… I’m certain you were…”
“I was what?” The boy asked in a mocking tone, he leaned in closer. His eyes were a startling green and before you realized it he had pulled you by the waist onto the sofa and was towering over you, one hand gripping both of your wrists over your head against the pillows.
“Hey what are you doing! You said, wriggling beneath him, “Let go of me!”
“Damn, you’re noisy. It was you who suddenly broke into my house. What are you doing in a place like this?” He said, bringing his face closer to yours. “Are you a magnet for trouble? Is that it? A moth drawn to flame?”
“No! I’m not, I was supposed to come he-.”
“I’m hungry,” He said resting a finger from his free hand over your lips to silence you. “There’s nothing like getting a feast right when you wake up,” he said with a laugh that made your stomach lurch.
“Don’t touch me!” You said, trying to squirm away but his knees locked you down.
“You’re some pretty energetic prey aren’t you? Stop struggling, just be a little… quieter.” He said as he began to unbutton the collar of your blouse.
“Please, God help me!” You shouted.
Suddenly all the lights in the living room came on startling you both. You noticed the ornate chandelier above you for the first time, it’s flames twinkling and reflecting against the glasses of the man who had entered the living room. The boy above you narrowed his eyes, seemingly annoyed.
“What is all this clamor? I hope you have a sensible reason for causing so much ruckus and disrupting my reading, Mark.”
“Ah, Ten, it’s you.” Mark said with a glare.
You used that moment to pull away from the strange boy and ran over to the man.
“Please help me!”
“Hm? And you are?” The man pushed up his glasses as he surveyed you with a look that seemed both annoyed and disgusted. You gave your name hesitantly, you weren’t sure if you preferred his gaze to the boy, Mark or not. From their features you could clearly tell they were related, they shared the same sparkle to their eyes and lint of the chin but on all other accounts, they appeared quite different.
“Mark, how many times have I told you to keep your conquests to your private rooms.” Ten said.
“I Am not a conquest!” You said angrily. “I came here because my Father told me i’d be staying here from now on!” You said it as clearly and unwavering as you could, relieved that at least some of your confidence was coming back to you.
“Is that so? I know nothing of these arrangements.” Ten said, narrowing his eyes, he looked to Mark for an explanation. “Mark, what is the meaning of this?”
“Like hell should I know! You didn’t say anything about that earlier, Breastless!”
“Well, you suddenly attacked me and told me to shut up, and… wait, ‘Breastless’?”
“Yes, dummy, it’s 'cause you don’t have any tits,” Mark said with a smile.
“How dare you!” You shouted, your face turning bright red.
Ten cleared his throat, and ran a hand through his black hair, “Well, there clearly is some error and you were misinformed.”
“Oh, what do we have here?” Said another voice. You looked across the room to find yet another attractive face. His hair was bright red, he was sitting on the banister of the grand staircase. His eyes were alight with mischief as he slid down the banister and embraced you.
“Hey!” You said startled.
“Is there really a cute human girl in our living room?” The red-haired boy said. He stood in front of you and brought your hand to his lips, tipping his black hat as he did so. “Hello, pleased to meet you, Little Bitch.” You gasped in surprise as he proceeded to lick your earlobe!
“Taeyong, really now. For a woman you’ve only just met, wouldn’t you say that was a bit insolent?” Ten said crossing his arms.
“Aha Ten you’re as stiff as always. Isn’t this fine? I was just getting a quick taste of a delicious-looking girl.” Taeyong said, licking his lips. You glared at him, taking in the eyebrow piercing on the left side of his face. If it weren’t for the ornamentation and bright hair you would have said he looked almost innocent in appearance although his actions said otherwise.
“Shit, I’ll kill you, bastard,” Mark said, stepping toward Taeyong. “Fucking spitting on Breastless before me!”
Taeyong’s laugh was more of a giggle like the chiming of bells. When he’d finally stopped he said, “You’ve got to claim your food with spit before your barbaric brothers do, hmm? Otherwise, they’ll eat it all up. Isn’t that right, Baekhyun?”
Another boy just as pale as the rest walked up beside you from the shadows. His purple cotton-candy like hair gave him a youthful appearance, He looked to be as old as you but for some reason, he clutched a teddy bear in his hands. A creepy bear at that, you thought. It may have been cute once but it seemed worn out in places now and very discolored, it even had an eyepatch and you wondered if it was just for style like some pirate or had the bear really lost an eye? Baekhyun’s eyes themselves were filled with excitement as he came closer to you and said in a childlike voice, “Please let me have a lick too. Don’t move, okay?” He wasn’t really asking for permission you realized for in the next instant you felt his tongue along your ear, wet and ticklish.
You made an odd sort of squeaking noise as you tilted your head away from him. What was wrong with these boys.
“Mm.” Baekhyun said noisily, clutching his teddy tighter against his chest. “She’s sweet… It’s rare to find a tasty one amidst all those dirty humans, isn’t it?”
“What?” You said in an exasperated voice, you were tired and confused of this little game they all seemed to be playing with you.
“Hey, what is a girl doing here anyway?” Baekhyun asked.
“Isn’t she tonight’s side dish?” Taeyong said, licking his lips again.
“Dumbasses. Don’t go thinking she’s your “side dish” 'cause she’s mine. After all, ‘Yours Truly’ found her first.” Mark said laughing again.
“Oh?” Ten said in an imperious tone as he looked at Mark. “That may be so, however you failed to taste her first.”
“Fuck you, Ten! Stop saying unnecessary things!”
“Pathetic.” Ten said, shaking his head.
Listening to this banter was worse than the licking you thought and just when you had accepted that things couldn’t get worse for you yet another voice entered the scene.
“Oi, Lucas, come on out!” Mark said.
Lucas it seemed had just appeared into the living room you had no idea where he’d come from. It was all just further proof that you needed to get away from this house and fast.
“No wonder I thought I smelled a human. It was you.” Lucas said, his voice was deep and every word was quite sharp. “My sleep was interrupted thanks to you and your stench.” He said, his glare directed on you. “What’s even going on?”
When you didn’t respond Lucas yelled, “Speak, don’t ignore me!” His fist pounded against the coffee table and made you jump in surprise.
“Ahh my little bro’s as hot-blooded as usual,” Taeyong said.
“Shut up, you year-round slut!” Lucas shouted at Taeyong. “I don’t consider you my older brother at all.”
“This is making me mad. Baekhyun said in a considerably serious tone that set you more on edge than the child-like one. “If you don’t stop with this needless talking, I’ll mangle you, okay?”
“Heh. I’d like to see you try it, Lucas sneered. His blue hair was disheveled and dare you say it, mangy as if his rage had grown roots. What are you gonna do with that tiny body, pipsqueak?”
“Ugh… Look at that, Teddy.” Baekhyun said in an offended voice. “This guy will be our next prey.”
“Please be reasonable,” Ten told you sternly. As much as I try to be gentle with you, my patience can only last so long. I’d like to say they can cook and boil you as they see fit but I cannot tolerate letting my foolish younger brothers compete for you in my clean living room. Now, first of all, please tell us how you managed to stumble upon this place.”
“Well... That is… because I..” Your voice shook as you spoke. It seemed your brain was at last catching up to the mess you were in.
“What’s this, Breastless? Are you trembling?” Mark asked.
“Aha… You really are cute like this,” Taeyong said drawing close again. “Now I’d really love to eat you.”
Mark laughed. “Your teeth are chattering. We really frighten you that much, huh.”
“O-of course I am frightened! I’m in such a strange place and I can’t understand any of you at all!” You said.
“What don’t you understand? Mark asked. We’re easy to understand, aren’t we?” He said, looking at Taeyong.
“Well, the rest of us are probably not as easy to read as Mark, right?” Taeyong said, a teasing lilt in his voice.
“Now, now, please don’t interrupt. Ten said, rubbing his forehead. “This conversation is not progressing in the slightest. I truly will lose my temper if this doesn’t shape up.” He turned to you and said, “You aren’t so frightened that you cannot speak, yes? So hurry and explain your situation.” He said the words slowly as if you were dumb. “Unless you’d rather I strike you with my whip?”
“This is all some big mistake,” you said backing away. I’ll just excuse myself. I’m sorry for coming in so late and imposing.” If I don’t leave soon they may do something worse. They really don’t seem to be joking about enjoying my discomfort.
“Hold up.” Mark called out from across the room and in the next instant he was right beside you! It was as if he’d teleported. “You can’t just leave, stay here.”
“I agree,” Taeyong said immediately. “It’s ridiculously troublesome when this house only has men living in it. If Little Bitch stayed here well maybe it’d bring a little bit of elegance into our lives.” Taeyong gave you a charming smile that sent you into a panic.
“I refuse!” you said before bolting for the door. There was nothing else to do at this point but run.
“Oi! Wait!” You heard Mark shout behind you. As if you’d stay here and be their plaything! Before now you would have said ghosts and haunted houses were just legends but after seeing Mark just ‘appear’ beside you and after all of those strange encounters in this sinister house, you believed that it was indeed haunted. You’d made it all the way to the foyer before you heard another voice.
“You’re so fussy, it’s tiresome,” The voice whispered. As if from smoke a man appeared right in front of your path.
“Are you also with those other people in the next room?” You asked, barely suppressing the desire to roll your eyes at yet another person? Phantom? Blocking your path.
“‘With those other people’... Being told something like that is exceedingly upsetting.” He said, his voice was much more enjoyable to listen to than the others you thought. It was languid and reminded you of a lazy stream. Soothing and yet refined.
“Well? Are you?” You asked again. When he stepped into the light you saw that his light blue sweater matched the blue of his eyes; serene waters both stoic and cold. You shook your head to clear it, damn these beautiful faces were distracting.
“If I had to describe my relationship with them,” He said finally, “I’d say we share an undesirable but inseparable link to one another. Are you the woman that guy was talking about?” He asked.
“'That guy’?” You repeated confused.
“Oi, Taemin!” Oh no just what I need now.“You know something about her?” Mark said coming beside him.
“Maybe,” Taemin said.
“Don’t ‘maybe’ me. I would like a full explanation,” Mark demanded.
“That guy, he contacted me the other day. ‘A new housemate will be coming to live with you, so get along nicely with her’ or something along those lines,” Taemin said dismissively waving them all away with his hand. He pulled out a pair of headphones that were attached to the black choker around his neck and went to recline on a sofa.
“So then, Breastless is just another prospective bride from the Church.” Mark said.
“No wonder, this is bullcrap.” Lucas said huffily.
“She’s more of a sacrificial lamb than a bride.” Taeyong said, moving to nibble at your ear, when you tried to get away he whispered, “Isn’t that right, Little Bitch?”
Ten cleared his throat. “It appears that this is not a mistake after all.”
“Y-you’re kidding!” You said, looking at Ten imploringly.
“Stupid. What would be the use of lying to you?” Mark said.
“I’m not a bride! I’m not marrying anyone! I have no idea what you’re talking about but this is all very strange! My father is an official from the Church, and for them to send me here…”
“Isn’t it fine, being sent here by the Church?” Taemin asked as he took in your shocked expression.
“What about that is 'strange?’” Baekhyun asked in that child-like voice again.
“That would mean my father knew all about you guys and you’re all so strange.”
“What about us is?” Mark asked.
“Well…” You tried to think of a way to say in the nicest possible way that they were creeps and your father would never want you near any of them but before you could utter a word Taemin said, “Because we’re vampires?”
“What! Vampires?” You exclaimed.
“Ugh. He went and spoiled it.” Mark said, sounding completely annoyed once more.
“Spoiled it? Wait, I don’t really understand what you’re saying,” You said and you prayed silently that this was just another nightmare and perhaps you’d gone to the hospital due to heart failure and this was all your imagination.
“It’s just as Taemin said. We are part of the vampire species. The bat clan, descendants of Vlad.” Baekhyun stated seriously.
“That must be a lie! Vampires? That can’t be true…” Phantoms were one thing but you couldn’t handle this.
“It’s rather inconsiderate for you to insist that we’re lying to you.” Ten said, “Mark has already said this, but there is no reason for us to lie to a lowly human.”
“But!” Your mind was racing now. Of course, the explanation did make sense. There was the shadow apparating, the flawless features, and the pale cold skin. The Lifeless body of before and their melodic voices. Yes, it all made sense.
“Now, now, Little Bitch,” Taeyong said in that ever so charming way of his. “You just don’t want to admit it, right? That beings as superior as us exist?”
“I don’t care if she believes it or not, she’s still annoying and loud,” Lucas said.
Whatever they said, you needed to call your father and ask him yourself. You reached for your phone but found your pocket empty.
Mark held your phone out to you, “Oi, looking for this?” Mark said, waving it in the air above your head just out of reach.
“That’s mine! You yelled exasperated. “Please give it back to me!”
“Or what?” Mark said with a laugh. He continued to wave it over your head.
“Come on! Enough!” You screamed.
“What’s with that attitude? I kindly picked it up for you. Is that how you thank me? Mark said.
“Mark, hand me that.” Lucas said.
“Why?”
“I said, hand it over,” Lucas reached over and grabbed the phone from Mark.
“Wait, what do you think you’re doing!” You scream but it was too late.
“I’m doing this!” Lucas said, before crushing your phone in his fist.
“No!”
“You’ve been so annoying ever since you got here,” Lucas said, letting the phone drop to the floor.
“You bastard!” You shouted. How would you call for help now?
“Now, now, Little Bitch,” Taeyong said. “From now on, you’re going to be friends with us creatures of the night. So there’s no need for boorish things like cell phones. Right?”
“Who do you guys think you are!” You said as you bent down to pick up the remains of your cell phone.
“So,” Baekhyun said as he stroked his Teddy bear, “Are you going to leave this place?”
“That should be obvious.” You replied.
“Oh, I see. Well, that’s perfect, then.” Baekhyun said.
“Perfect?” You asked wearily.
“I’ve been very hungry for a little while now.” Baekhyun continued.
“So what?” You said, hoping to stall for time to escape and keep him talking.
“You really are a fool, aren’t you? It can only mean one thing when a vampire says he’s hungry and I do love a good chase.” And with that Baekhyun pushed you to the ground teddy bear and all. For such a small figure he had a lot of strength, most of it supernatural of course you realized. You tried to move from beneath him but he would not budge.
“Your blood smells so tasty and sweet,” Baekhyun said giggling like a child. His fangs prodded at your neck and you shuddered as you felt the tips brush against your skin. “I’ll drink it all without leaving a single drop behind. Okay?” His self imposed stupor was all you needed as you took just that moment before he would feed on you to move your hand to your chest.
“Stop!” You yelled, whipping your rosary out and using it as if it were a shield.
“Huh?” Was Baekhyun’s only reply.
Meanwhile, Taeyong was just about rolling on the floor laughing. “Little Bitch… you’re amusing! You carry a rosary with you?” He said between giggles.
“She seems to believe in the more archaic methods. Ten said. “Quite foolish, I must say.”
“But, vampires shouldn’t be able to tolerate crucifixes, garlic, or holy water…” Your voice trailed off at the look on their faces.
“What kind of fairy tale did you get that from? That’s stupid,” Mark said.
“I don’t want to hear that from someone who looks like a fairy tale character!” You shouted back.
“This is making me mad,” Baekhyun said again with a whine. He looked as if he was about to throw a tantrum. “My food is right in front of me but the dining table is getting chaotic. Why are you doing this?” He said.
“Your food! Don’t say terrible things like that! I’m a human being!”
“This is tiresome,” Taemin said, rubbing the back of his neck. “Baekhyun said that because humans are treats for us. Didn’t they lick you already?” Taemin said.
“I can’t accept that vampires exist!” You said quite stubbornly.
“Mm… That’s kind of sad. Little Bitch,” said Taeyong. “The only way to make you believe us is by doing this.” He leaned into your neck and you shouted, “I get it now, so just wait a minute!”
“Don’t wanna,” Taeyong said, running his tongue along your throat and collarbone.
“You say that, but… m-my blood is not that cheap!” You said, trying to work out a strategy that would buy you time. “Because I-I want to choose who… gets to drink my blood!”
“Heh?” Mark said in surprise.
Perhaps I shouldn’t have said that but it was the only thing I could think to say.
“That is quite displeasing. Ten said, pulling up his glasses again. “I have no clue what kind of blood you might have, but aren’t you behaving just like a high-class prostitute?”
“This is stupid. I’m out. You guys do whatever you want.” Lucas said with a huff.
“Oh!” Mark exclaimed. “A dropout already?”
“The human’s manners are deplorable,” Ten said, looking down at you. “It has been quite a while since I’ve had a woman this undisciplined.”
“Lavender's blue, dilly dilly, lavender's green, When I am king, dilly dilly, you shall be queen.” Baekhyun sang the folk song in a hauntingly beautiful voice before saying in his serious tone, “Hey… Teddy. If she doesn’t pick me, let’s both cut her to pieces, okay?”
“This has gotten interesting,” Mark said with a smile. “Naturally, you’ll pick Your’s Truly, right? It should be obvious.”
“Little Bitch, Taeyong murmured. “If you don’t pick me… you’ll definitely regret it later.”
“Whatever.” Taemin said with a tired sigh. “Just end this silly game already.”
I only suggested this in the spur of the moment, but now… what should I do?
You looked at Taemin then, listening to his headphones again trying to block out Baekhyun and Taeyong’s chatter. He seemed safer than the rest; you didn’t quite know if that was the best word for him but when those blue eyes caught your stare you said, “I choose Taemin.”
“What a pain.” He whispered before closing his eyes.
Taemin seemed lazy compared to the others, somehow he felt more normal to you and yet, well what was normal for a vampire?
“Ngh, why him? You’ve got terrible taste, Breastless!” Mark exclaimed.
“You know, he’s not usually motivated to do anything, and I do mean anything,” Taeyong said moving his hips suggestively.
“Quiet.” Taemin told him, to you he said. “Well, I don’t mind having a nice meal come to me without having to do anything. But,” He said, eyes narrowing. “If you want me to suck your blood you’ll have to offer your neck to me yourself.”
Your cheeks reddened. Right, normal. This will work out in my favor.
“Everyone listen up.” Taemin said, “If you want to touch her, well, go right ahead. But you can’t kill her.”
“Huh? We can’t? Why not?” Baekhyun asked.
“Like I know,” Taemin replied. “That guy is the one who said it. ‘Treat your guest with respect’.”
“You really should have said so sooner!” You said.
“Too troublesome.”
“T-troublesome.” You echoed. He really was very lazy, you realized.
“What’s that bastard thinking? Why do we have to treat this lame human girl with respect?” Mark said.
“There might be some meaning to it. Maybe that person is planning something,” Taeyong said.
“Like what?” Baekhyun asked him incredulously. What could such a plain girl have?”
“Who knows?” Taeyong said with a sigh. “I can’t ever understand what that guy is thinking at all.”
“You’ve lost me again.” You said, feeling confused once more.
“Shut up, Breastless. Mark said, “This is our family’s problem.”
Who was “that guy” was he the person with connections to the Church that Father told me about?
“Anyway,” Taemin said, bringing them all back to the initial topic. “That’s why you can’t go so far you kill her. And you,” Taemin said, meeting your eyes once more. “Try not to be so loud; stay out of my way.”
“The more I take, the more you fall captive to my will. When your body meets mine, this thirst, this depravity will it all fade? You are but a faint illusion on the horizon waiting for the midnight sun as you waltz further from me.”
You woke from the words of your nightmare to find yourself in an unfamiliar king sized bed and as all of the memories of yesterday night came crashing down on you at once, you wished you had just stayed asleep. Taeyong, Baekhyun, and Mark, had shown you to this extravagantly decorated room last night and you’d been so tired that as soon as they were gone you’d locked the door and fallen asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow.
You turned on the nightlight at your bedside table now and opened the curtains to find it was dark outside. You realized you must have slept the entire day away and given all the excitement you’d gone through yesterday you weren’t surprised. Without your phone you couldn’t contact your father and tell him about the trouble you were in and you knew that waiting for him to seek you out would take weeks or maybe even months. He always lost touch with you when he was traveling overseas and it incensed you to no end. His actions really show how little he truly cares about my well-being.
Settling for being vampire food felt like giving up but as long as you stood your ground they couldn’t break your spirit so easily. They would eventually get what they wanted but that didn’t mean you wouldn’t put up one hell of a fight.
Dear God, why have you given me this trial? This nightmare felt a lot like being thrown into a den of hungry lions you thought. Like some crazy test of purity.
“Hey,” Taemin said appearing in your bedroom out of nowhere.
You screamed and jumped into the bed ducking under the covers.
“Annoying woman,” Taemin said. “Don’t jump on the bed. You’ll break the floor and then Ten will throw a fit if you destroy the house.” You felt the edge of the bed sink in and you carefully peeked at him from under the pink frilly comforter. Really why would anyone decorate a place this obnoxiously. Everywhere you looked you saw stuffed animals and expensive furniture and it made you wonder how many other girls had been a guest in this room. You shuddered and moved your attention to Taemin. His eyes were closed and he was listening to his headphones again. He’d swapped his blue sweater for a school uniform and this had your mind buzzing with questions.
“Why are you wearing a school uniform? It’s nighttime already.”
“Classes start around now though.” He said, opening one eye to look at you.
Before you could ask him anything more the door swung open, even though you had been sure you locked it you supposed the lock was there more for your benefit than to really keep anyone out.
“What are you two still doing here?” Ten demanded, crossing his arms and glaring down at both of you. He was also dressed in a school uniform but unlike Taemin who wore his blazer around his shoulders, Ten's blazer was buttoned down and without a wrinkle in sight.
“The nuisance has arrived.” Taemin said, closing his eyes again.
“Taemin, would you please get in the car.” Ten said again, “I won’t ask politely again. If you two humiliate us all for being late I will-”
“Yes, alright. We’re coming now.” Taemin said.
When Ten left Taemin got up and took out a folded school uniform he’d been carrying under his arm. “Here put this on quickly and meet us in the front. I’ve already enrolled you for classes so you don’t need to worry about it.” He turned and started walking for the door.
“Thank you,” you said. You were amazed he went through the trouble. He waved your thanks away with a hand and closed the door behind him.
You hurried to dress, fearing that if you weren't downstairs in the next few minutes you’d have more vampires barging in, this time as you changed. It made sense that vampires attended a night school though you really hadn’t thought about it till now.
“Good evening, Little Bitch.” Taeyong said, greeting you at the front door with a lick to your cheek. You wiped it off with your sleeve and walked out the front door gasping when you took in the limousine parked in front. Well here’s to hoping that I will actually be able to study at this night school. Your mind anxiously wondered how many students would also be inhuman.
The School corridor was thankfully filled with a lot of normal looking people. No horns or fangs were on display but of course that didn’t mean they weren’t around if the guys were anything to go by since their fangs weren’t always on display. You’d only attended one class so far and yet you were already worn out from the bickering the boys had engaged in during the car ride earlier. The only thing that even made the day bearable was that Taemin hadn't mentioned sucking your blood. Not even once. He hadn’t even acknowledged you existed beyond giving you the uniform. Perhaps he wasn’t interested in you at all and maybe if you stayed quiet he’d end up letting you go himself without you having to beg him.
Just don’t make him mad, don’t get in his way, don’t look at his blue eyes…
“Hey you!” A girl shouted from across the corridor and you looked up.
“Me?”
“Yeah! you’re the girl who just transferred into our class today, right?”
“Oh, yes I am. Nice to meet you.” You said.
“Yeah, likewise! My name is Ellisyn,” the girl said smiling. She was tall with long tawny brown hair that fell to her waist in ringlets. “You know… I saw you when you came to school, and…” She leaned in close to your ear conspiratorially, “I was wondering, how are you related to the Hawthorn brothers?”
“What!” Well, some things happened… And Tae-”
“Ahh, yes! What about Master Taemin?”
“Huh? Are you interested in Taemin?” You asked.
Ellisyn looked at you as if you were from another planet. “Of course I am! The six Hawthorn brothers are super popular here! I am the president of Master Taemin’s fanclub myself!
“Oh I hadn’t reali-”
“I must inform you then that everyone calls Taemin the ‘Master of the Music Room’, he skips almost all of his classes to spend most of his time there. Also, he never talks to anyone that’s why I was so surprised when I saw you with him.” She narrowed her eyes suspiciously. “Are you perhaps dating one of the Hawthorn brothers?”
No Ellisyn, i’m their prey and i’m being held in that creepy place against my will and you can keep your ‘Master of the Music Room.’ These were your first thoughts but of course you replied with: “No, no! It’s nothing like that, truly!”
Ellisyn’s excitement deflated at this, “Really? Nothing?” She pouted, upset that she hadn’t come across some juicy piece of gossip. “Well, if anything does happen I promise I won’t tell anyone.” Her forked tongue escaped her mouth with a slither as she said it and you tried to look unfazed. Not a normal human then. She waved goodbye and walked off down the hall.
“I should try to steer clear of the music room.” You mumbled.
“What’s wrong with the music room?” Taeyong said, startling you as he came from behind you. “You shouldn’t let the gorgon girl bother you, I’ll keep you safe.”
“Would you stop sneaking up on me! You screamed. “Make some noise next time!”
“But the look of fear on your face is amusing, Little Bitch. Why would I go and do that?” Taeyong replied with a wink.
You rolled your eyes, “What do you want Taeyong?” Just when you said it you regretted asking.
“Instead of zoning out in the halls and talking to yourself, why don’t we have some fun together instead?” He said, eyes alight with mischief.
“Ah, no. I… I’m not free right now.”
“Then make some time to spare.” Taeyong said, stepping closer.
“I-I can’t. I still have my classes!” Ah damn it, you were stuttering again. God he unsettled you.
“Who cares about classes? Wouldn’t it be much more important for you and me to learn about our bodies instead?” He said with a smile.
You blushed and tried hiding it by opening one of your textbooks only to find yourself reading it upside down.
“You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed. Here, come over here.” He pointed down a hallway. “There’s a less-crowded classroom this way-”
You bolted, running in the opposite direction and calling over your shoulder, “I’m busy!”
Hah… That was too close!” Thankfully I got away… This time. You leaned against a classroom door trying to catch your breath. Then you noticed where you’d gotten to while you were distracted running away, it was of course, the music room. Just my luck.
You could hear soft playing coming from inside. Curious beside yourself you opened the door quietly to find Taemin playing on the grand piano, his back facing you. When he was playing he seemed quite the opposite of lazy, he was rather vivacious. You came further into the room and watched his fingers as they spirited over keys. Even the muscles along his back seemed to move with him beneath his shirt to the rhythm, it was all so mesmerizing you hadn’t really noticed he’d stopped playing until he said, “What do you want?”
��Did you hear me come in,” you asked, feeling a bit guilty to have disturbed him.
“Of course I did, you are ever so noisy. Stop looking at me, you’re making a weird face.”
You blushed and moved to look around the room knowing full well he was talking about how you had been openly gaping at him. It was cruel really how angelic these monsters could appear. Without his fangs and imperious attitude he really would have been quite admirable.
“Did you need something?” He asked, going to lay on the floor.
“Nothing. I don’t need anything really.” Perhaps you should start some conversation or it would only get more awkward. “What’s the name of the song you were playing? It was beautifu-”
“Get out if you don’t need anything. You’re fatiguing. You really don’t have any importance to me and I hate small talk.” He said, closing his eyes.
Well that was rather unfair. “I wouldn’t be in your way at all if it wasn’t for you and your brothers.” Forget not angering him, you were angry now.
“My brothers all seem to be in a frenzy over possessing your body and blood, but don’t lump me in with them. If you’re trying to use your body to gain control or whatever of our family, then it’d be pointless coming after me. Eldest or not, I don’t even care about this household. Does that change your mind? Do you regret choosing me now?” Taemin said.
You didn’t know what to say to that. You were stunned, it was almost a book coming from a man who supposedly never spoke and one who never revealed his thoughts.
“I assure you, I’m not here to gain leverage or power or anything! I just want my freedom, just like you want yours it seems.”
“Don’t act like you know me and as for trusting your word, what good is it?” He said.
“Just because you can’t take anyone else's word in your family doesn’t mean you have to shovel all of your experiences on me!” You shouted.
“I’m tired of talking. He said, getting off the floor and walking to the door. “I’ve already said what I had to.”
He really liked slithering out of conversation and being the one with the last word didn’t he.
You sat on the bench and moved your hand across the ivory keys. It’s best this way, I’ll have the best chance at escaping if he really doesn’t care about anything or anyone at all.
#taemin fanfic#superm fanfic#vampire fanfic#taemin#ten fanfic#mark fanfic#taeyong fanfic#lucas fanfic#baekhyun fanfic
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A friend and I have a little headcanon that sometimes, if the two disagree enough on something, Legacy and Childe can basically end up splitting apart. You have human Ajax, since his memory of the Abyss is with Legacy, and you have big monster Legacy, who is very instinctive/kinda feral and secretly touch-starved, big fluffy crustacean (or moth!) man that vaguely recognizes people from the fuzzy imprints of memories from Childe.
BOTH are very clingy and want attention, and both get a little (a lot) jealous of each other. Cue the three-way cuddles with you in the middle, these two sticking their tongues out at each other over your head while you obliviously doze in comfort.
(His s/o in this case has prosthetic [metal, based off Ruin Guards] limbs and they let Legacy nibble at them when he's feeling bitey and can't go fight something, as well. Took a bit of convincing for him to see it didn't hurt anything. I love talking about these silly blorbos and here I am joining you in brainrot)
you 🤝 me
talking about these blorbos
oh imagine your surprise when you come home and there are TWO people in your house- one human, one Abyssal, and both ginger-haired and very familiar. Ajax runs over to you first and hugs you tight, burying his face into your shoulder with a content sigh. Foul Legacy approaches you more cautiously, leaning forward to delicately sniff your hand before chittering in realization, his wings fluttering happily as he remembers you. but Ajax sticks his tongue out at his Abyssal half, squeezing you a little tighter as Legacy hisses quietly, his fur bristling. it takes you stepping between them with your hands up to get them to stop glaring at each other, putting aside their petty argument to snuggle up to you for a nap instead, Ajax's arm around your waist and Foul Legacy's head pressed against your stomach
the problem doesn't go away overnight- Ajax is forced to attend to his Harbinger duties and you have to go to work, leaving Foul Legacy home alone. he hates being alone, hates it so much, and when you finally return you're greeted with a very enthusiastic headbump that's definitely going to leave a bruise. you smile and spend a few minutes lavishing Legacy with attention, scratching under his chin and behind his horns, chuckling as he purrs and gently nibbles your metallic fingers. suddenly a pair of arms wrap around your shoulders, Ajax smooching your cheek and pouting, waiting for you to ruffle his hair like you always do. he sticks his tongue out at Legacy, who promptly sticks his own out, having learned what the gesture means, and you stifle another laugh
they'll go back to being just Childe eventually, but for now, you don't really mind spending time with both of them
#genshin impact#childe#tartaglia#foul legacy#foul legacy childe#genshin tartagalia#genshin childe#genshin tartaglia#chit chat#anon#*kisses both of them*#rest assured if you're in trouble they'll put aside their differences SO quickly#also you talking about prosthetics is making me want to ramble about my automaton oc aaaaaaaaaa#ajax: *sticks his tongue out at legacy*#legacy: *sticks his tongue out at ajax*#ajax: >:O!!!!!!#short scenario#other's stuff#good evening :)
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Summary: Jon goes back to before the world ended and tries to forge a different path.
Previous chapter: tumblr // AO3
Chapter 6 full text & content warnings under the cut:
CWs for Chapter 6: some ableism &internalized ableism (re: ADHD & anxiety); panic attacks; one (1) swear, because Jon is BORED and he CAN'T HANDLE IT and it is A MOOD. SPOILERS through S5.
Chapter 6: Rude Awakening
Jon is back in that blank vacuum, and time is doing that thing where every moment feels like an eternity. He suspects it might have just as much to do with his innate intolerance of boredom as it does with sensory deprivation. The lack of any sort of stimulation in this place is unbearable. He never has been able to sit still for long periods of time, and he can’t even fidget here, for fucks sake.
It’s like he’s a child again...
...seven years old and lying face-down on the kitchen floor, swinging his legs in the air, complaining loudly about how there’s nothing to do. Normally, his grandmother might snap at him to go outside and stop pestering her, but a vicious thunderstorm is passing through and she won’t let him play in it – and besides, he’s technically grounded.
Just two days ago, he had wandered off after being forbidden from leaving the yard. Again.
In his defense, there was a cat sunning itself just beyond the fence, and he wanted to say hello because he loves cats but his grandmother won’t let him have one, and then the cat stood up and yawned and trotted off, and obviously he had to follow it, and then – before he knew it, two officers were escorting him home. Again.
His grandmother had been shocked to find the police on her doorstep with her intractable grandson in tow – she hadn’t noticed he was missing – yet again.
After they left, she was furious with him for embarrassing her like that. Again and again and again.
So, now he’s under house arrest – a new term that he had picked up from the officers: “Your grandmother is going to put you under house arrest if you keep wandering off like this, kid.” The first couple times, they had found his meanderings and adventurous nature cute, albeit worrisome; by the third time, the charm had worn off and the weary indulgence vanished along with it; by the fourth time, he received a stern dressing down about safety and recklessness and making things difficult for his poor grandmother; and now, the fifth time, there had been a not-so-subtle warning about contacting social services to investigate neglect....
With each scolding, Jon would feel appropriately abashed in the moment, but it never took long for it to fade into the background, drowned out by a mind understimulated and screaming for some novel distraction. Somehow, courting negative attention was preferable to receiving no attention at all. When adults were being charitable, they called him precocious and clever. When he was testing their patience, though, he was a difficult child, a nuisance, a bother – and he had a tendency to exhaust even the most tolerant adult’s patience very, very quickly. He's always been... difficult.
God, why is he even thinking about this? Is he really so starved for something to occupy his attention that he’s digging into the annals of his childhood?
(Yes. Yes he is.)
He throws his head back with an aggravated sigh. Or he would, if he had a body here, but whenever there’s no dreamer around to witness him, he’s an incorporeal mind floating in nothingness.
What he wouldn’t give to be able to just jiggle his leg right now. Tap his fingers. Play with his hair – or better yet, Martin’s; his hair was always so soft and he would always lean into Jon’s touch like a cat. It will probably be awhile before Jon gets to touch him again. If ever. What if –
Stop, he tells himself. You’re only going to catastrophize, and then you’ll get depressed, and then you’ll be useless. Why are you always so difficult? You –
He throws the brakes so quickly he can almost feel the screeching halt. Crashing a train of thought like that is like ignoring an itch. Itch, itch, itch, the word echoes in his head – and now he wants to scratch at his worm scars.
Wait, no, don’t think about them – it’ll just make you itchy, and you don’t even have a body, which means you won’t be able to scratch, and – and, yes, now you’re itchy, and – damn it, can’t you just sit still and clear your mind for five sec–
“Um. Hello, Jon. Do you… mind if I call you Jon?”
Wait. Is that…
“I mean, you don’t actually know me. It’s just, well. ‘Archivist.’ It’s so formal, isn’t it?”
Oliver! Finally, Jon thinks with relief.
“Dreams are like that, you know. No matter how lucid you think they are, there’s always that part that just drags you along. Guess I don’t need to tell you that. At least, not right now.”
Oliver. Oliver, can you hear me?
Oliver sighs. “Wish I could tell you why I came here.”
Apparently not.
“Wish I knew why I came here.”
When in doubt, blame the Web.
“Sorry to go on, I – I don’t talk to many people these days. Putting my thoughts outside myself, it gets a bit, er, clumsy.”
Jon knows the feeling.
“Be easier if you could talk back, right? Ask me questions, have it tumble all out?”
Easier, sure. But far more unpleasant.
“But no. It’s – it’s just me. Wish there was a better way, but touching someone’s mind, it’s not as simple as that? Doesn’t always make things clearer, you know?”
Again, Jon does know.
“Still, I gave the old woman a statement, so maybe I owe you one as well. That’s how it works, right? Give your terror, give your dream?”
Unfortunately.
“It’s not like I don’t have them to spare.”
Preaching to a choir, Oliver.
“Let me tell you about how I tried to escape.”
No – let’s – can we just move things along?
“So. My name is Oliver Banks. In my other statements, I used the name Antonio Blake, but…”
Guess not.
This probably counts as a live statement, and Jon had been keen to avoid those this time around. He wishes he could cover his ears, shut his eyes, block it all out – but then again, even if he could, would he? That familiar single-minded fixation is settling over him like a heavy fog, and it’s as unnerving as ever – a craving that he doesn’t want to indulge, but once he has a taste, it feels right. The guilt never comes until after the need is satiated.
It’s nearly impossible to stop a statement once it starts. His mind starts to go fuzzy, restless, full of static and pressure. He’s always wondered: is this what compulsion feels like to the ones he turns it upon?
The static fades then, everything becoming sharp and clear and real, like a picture coming into focus. The Archivist is hungry, intent on every single word like a cat, motionless and unblinking, watching a moth beat itself senseless against a light.
And the Archive – the Archive is ravenous. Its presence looms in the background in a way that it hasn’t since before Jon passed through the rift, weighing heavily on the back of his mind.
He gives up on trying to reach out and touch Oliver’s mind for the time being, gives in to the need, and listens as the story twines itself around and through his thoughts.
When Oliver finishes his account several minutes later, Jon feels brighter, more alert, reinvigorated. The disgust and shame will creep up on him later, he’s sure, but for now, it feels right. He feels whole.
“Right,” Oliver says. “That’s, uh, it, I suppose. Maybe you heard me. Maybe you’ll dream.”
Oliver, Jon tries again. This time, for the briefest of moments, he thinks he can hear a subdued hum of static. Can you hear me?
“Then again, maybe I just wasted my breath – but I don’t think so. Honestly, I’m still not exactly sure why I’m here. But you know better than anyone how the spiders can get into your head.”
You don’t need to rub it in, Jon mutters to himself.
“Easier to just do what she asks.”
I beg to differ. The static picks up again, more of a persistent buzz this time. Oliver, listen –
“The thing is, Jon, right now you have a choice. You’ve put it off a long time, but it’s trapping you here. You’re not quite human enough to die, but still too human to survive.”
Yes, yes, I know. The buzz becomes a shrill whine. Oliver!
“You’re balanced on an edge where the End can’t touch you, but you can’t escape him. I made a choice. We all made choices. Now you have to –”
Oliver Banks.
“Um?”
Finally, Jon thinks, exasperated.
“Jon?” Oliver ventures. “Or, uh – Archivist?”
I prefer Jon.
“Huh.” Jon can pick up a soft squeaking noise, as if Oliver just leaned back in his chair. “I’ll be honest, I’m not sure how you’re even doing this.”
Neither do I, but I don’t exactly have time to contemplate that right now –
“I suppose it’s similar to Elias’ ability to broadcast knowledge into another person’s mind,” Oliver muses, almost to himself.
Oh. It… it is, isn’t it? That’s… not a comforting thought.
“I didn’t realize it was something the Archivist could do as well. I thought your job was more… acquiring knowledge, pulling answers out of people, not impressing it upon them.”
I’d… really rather not dwell on it, Jon says, tamping down the burst of fear that surges through him at the thought of comparing himself to Jonah. His mind has gotten trapped in that particular rut many times before, and it's never a good place to be.
Either Oliver respects Jon's wishes or simply doesn't care to waste energy pressing him on the matter, because he drops it and moves on to the main reason for his visit.
“Have you made your choice, Jon?”
I made my choice months ago. I just couldn’t figure out how to – how to act on it. How to actually wake up.
“I confess, I’m surprised to hear you declare your choice with such confidence.” Jon hears fabric rustling – Oliver crossing his legs, maybe? “I was led to believe that you were… almost pathologically indecisive.”
I… usually am, Jon admits, though Oliver’s phrasing is too incisive for his comfort. But I made my choice, and I’d like to follow through on it now.
“Ah. Well.” Oliver sounds uncharacteristically perturbed. It almost reminds Jon of himself when he's unable to Know something. “Not sure why you couldn't before?”
Jon wonders if it has something to do with being newly well-fed. Or maybe he just needed direct contact from the End? Speaking of – he can feel Oliver’s eyes riveted on him, quietly observing and calculating as if trying to get an accurate estimate of the Archivist.
“But – but you definitely can now. The roots are...” Oliver falters, and Jon thinks he can feel him lean in closer. “There’s something… off about you. The roots, they look… sick. Wrong. And the threads are – are tangled.” Another pause. “Can you explain it?”
Not here. I don’t want Elias listening in.
“Doesn’t he have eyes everywhere?”
Almost everywhere. The tunnels under the Institute are… a blind spot, sort of.
“And you would discuss it there?”
Within reason, Jon says warily.
He doubts whether Oliver would ever be an ally – judging from the statement he gave during the apocalypse, he’s too fatalistic to intervene one way or the other – but he doesn’t feel like an enemy, either. Maybe he would be interested in sharing information, or even just letting Jon bounce strategies and theories off of him? It might be helpful, having a mostly-neutral Avatar to consult.
Also, there's just something… lonely about Oliver.
If nothing else, it would be a break from the monotony for you, Jon adds.
“I don’t know how I feel about visiting the Institute again. Not out of fear for my safety, mind. Just don’t like the feeling of being watched. Feels… I don’t know. Slimy.”
That’s one word for it.
“Apologies. I’m not a wordsmith, if you haven’t noticed.” Jon can hear Oliver shifting uneasily in his seat now. He really is awkward, isn’t he?
I don't know, I’m sure you could put together a decent sermon on… existentialist philosophy, or macroeconomics, or the inevitability of death and taxes, or – or something.
“I’m not exactly pleasant company.” He says it matter-of-fact, but Jon thinks he can detect a trace of melancholy underneath the customary impassiveness. “People tend to be… unsettled when they meet a walking, talking memento mori.”
No more unsettling than talking to an incarnation of paranoia and terrible knowledge, Jon says sardonically. Also, the vulnerability inherent to being seen. Maybe some of the more vexing aspects of academia as well.
Oliver chuckles at that, but cuts it short. It's almost like he didn't expect it. Jon thinks maybe he can understand. Go long enough without laughing, and when you finally do, it will come out sounding all wrong to your ears. Like an out-of-tune piano, Martin said once. You have a nice laugh, Jon. You just aren't used to hearing it, and right now it's a bit rusty from disuse.
“I don’t know that I was ever good company,” says Oliver after a moment.
Can’t be any worse than I am, Jon says lightly. Maybe you’re just out of practice.
“Perhaps,” Oliver says evasively.
Well, consider it an open invitation. Just... I don't know. Keep it in mind.
“Not like I can forget anything.”
Quite a curse, isn’t it?
“I’ve made my peace with it.”
I know, Jon replies. If he’s honest with himself, he can’t help but envy Oliver to an extent – how secure he is in his role, his tranquil embrace of his destiny.
Jon isn’t being fair, though, is he? Oliver went through hell to achieve his current level of humble acceptance, and regardless of either of their current perspectives on fate and free will, the fact remains that they were both forced into making impossible choices under duress. They’ve both become something they never expected or wanted or asked to be, and... it doesn't seem like Oliver deserved it. On his good days, Jon thinks maybe he didn't, either.
“I’ll… consider the offer.” Jon can detect just a hint of curiosity beneath the reticence.
Before Jon can reply, though, he hears the door open and close.
“Can I help you?” Georgie’s voice, slicing through the quiet like the crack of a whip.
“Oh, I – I’m a friend,” Oliver says quickly, clearly taken by surprise. “Of Jon’s.”
“Are you, now.” The hard edge to her tone turns icy, and Jon can’t help feeling sorry for Oliver, pinned under that uncompromising stare of hers.
“Uh, y-yes.”
“Right. Just haven’t seen you visiting before.”
“Um, I’ve… been out of town!”
If Jon had any control over his body, he would put his head in his hands right now. Apparently Oliver is just as bad at lying on the spot as Jon is, and unfortunately for him, Georgie happens to be a natural lie detector.
“Right,” Georgie replies flatly. “The nurse didn’t say anyone else was here.”
“Oh! Oh – oh, well. Sorry if I surprised you.”
“It’s fine.”
It’s not.
“I’m Antonio!” Oliver blurts out, and Jon cringes with secondhand embarrassment.
“Sure,” Georgie says, voice dripping with disdain. “I think you’re done here.”
“Oh. Uh, right…” Oliver’s chair scrapes against the floor as he stands up. “Have I upset you, miss –”
Bad move. Georgie hates being referred to as 'miss.'
“No, you just remind me of someone.”
“Ah. I’m sorry. Were they –”
“Evil. Yes.”
“Uh. Okay, then.” It’s almost funny, an Avatar of death itself shrinking under Georgie’s scrutiny. Then again, she would likely be a force to be reckoned with even if she hadn’t lost her ability to feel fear. “Well, I just – well, I guess I should just go.”
“I guess you should.”
“Um. Goodbye, Jon. I guess I –”
“Goodbye!” Georgie says, putting on a transparently false cheery tone, and Jon can make out Oliver’s harried footsteps as Georgie ushers him out.
Once the door clicks shut, Jon hears her approach him again.
“Sorry about that, Jon, but you really don’t need friends like tha– wait. Did…?” More footsteps; then the door opens again, and Jon hears Georgie’s voice echoing distantly down the corridor. “Hey! Hey, get back here! I need to talk to you!”
Jon wonders if Oliver's already gotten away.
Oh, Jon thinks suddenly, she’s… not going to be pleased if she finds out I tried to make friends with the grim reaper. Neither is Martin, come to think of it.
He feels a twinge of guilt and worry. He’s not yet woken up, and already he’s doing things that Georgie might see as careless and self-destructive. Still, though… he doesn’t think Oliver is evil, or even particularly threatening. If anything, Jon thinks he knows now how Naomi must have felt, watching some eldritch monster fumble a conversation like any other mundane human grappling with social anxiety.
Well, what’s done is done. Oliver might not even take Jon up on the offer. No use worrying about it at the moment.
He needs to focus on waking up.
Unfortunately, Oliver didn’t explain exactly how Jon should go about waking up.
His first instinct is to think of Martin. With practiced ease, he reaches out for a memory, and –
Jon has always had an unexpected sweet tooth. He never really mentioned it to any of his coworkers. It’s not that he’s self-conscious about it; it’s more that he just never thought to share unsolicited facts about himself. Most people would take one look at Jon and either assume he takes his tea black, or that he’d prefer to fix it himself – and the latter wasn’t an unfair assumption. Martin, though… somehow, he figured it out.
It took some trial-and-error, though at the time, Jon never noticed that Martin was deliberately trying to puzzle it out. Eventually he settled on the exact right formula, and Jon – well, by the time he realized, it felt like too much time had passed to remark on it. He was never very good at compliments anyway, giving or receiving. From that point forward, though, w henever Jon was having a particularly rough day – which, by their standards, was saying a lot – Martin would make Jon’s tea sweeter than usual. It was such a small gesture in the face of the horrors that permeated all of their lives, but in retrospect, it spoke volumes.
Jon took forever to notice all those little gestures. He still feels like an ass for how ungrateful he was back then, but it just never occurred to him that anyone would put that much time or effort into learning his preferences, especially something so mundane as how he takes his tea. Jon barely put any thought into his own comfort, let alone that of others.
But Martin isn’t like Jon.
Jon has long marveled at how kindness seems to come so naturally to Martin. As much as it might seem like he just preternaturally knows the exact right things to say and do when he sees someone hurting, though, it was never effortless: Martin cares deliberately, painstakingly, actively. He prides himself on that attention to detail, on all the little acts of kindness and consideration that, when put together, make him the most thoughtful person Jon has ever met.
Of course, Jon also feels a wrench in his heart every time he thinks about how and why Martin cultivated that caretaker skill set in the first place. They talked about a lot of things, after the Lonely, and the truth had come out little by little: Martin had never had anyone in his life who loved him unconditionally. From an early age, he tried desperately to curry favor with a mother who resented him for reasons he could not help and that she would never explain. It bled into all areas of his life. Every adult role model, every passing friendship, each of his few short-lived intimate relationships was a link in a long chain of giving and sacrificing and carefully policing himself to meet others’ expectations at the cost of his own vivid inner life – and never once did he receive anything meaningful in return. For too long, Jon was a link in that chain himself.
Martin had learned to measure his worth by whether and how he could be of use to others, and always found himself wanting. Jon could relate to that unhealthy preoccupation with making himself useful, but for him, it manifested as workaholic tendencies, harsh self-criticism, and a fear of letting anyone get so close that it would actually hurt when they inevitably grew tired of him – though at the time, he would have said he just had a preference for his own company. (Funny, in retrospect; he's never been good company for himself.) Martin sought to be noticed and loved; Jon ran headlong in the other direction, unable to tolerate the vulnerability of being known or the risk of being abandoned.
He suspects that Martin would be compassionate regardless, though. And it's admirable, it's beautiful, it's brave, and Jon loves that about him – but Martin shouldn't have had to go through hell in the process of nurturing that trait. Trauma didn't help him grow; it only twisted his definition of caring until it became an instrument of self-harm. As they navigated their relationship, Martin did get better at setting boundaries and communicating his needs. It never made him any less compassionate towards Jon or anyone else. He just learned that he deserved compassion as well - from others and from himself.
Jon will always be in awe of how after everything – how Jon treated him in the beginning, how Jon left him alone and grieving in the aftermath of the Unknowing, how thoroughly the Lonely pervaded his life – Martin never once lost that instinct. He admitted to Jon that by the time Peter threw him into the Lonely, caring didn’t feel natural anymore. He was too numb and isolated to really feel a connection to other people. His empathy had been drained away. But even in its absence, Martin still made the effort to care. He still believed that human connection was important, even if he believed that he couldn’t experience it himself.
And after the world ended, when Jon was deep in his grief and hopelessness, Martin stayed by his side. Jon told him that this was no longer a world where they could trust comfort – but Martin responded with patience and kindness. He put comfort into a world where it seemed like none could exist, and Jon will always be in awe of how Martin could just… do that, and with such confidence – stubbornness, almost.
Even after Jon lost him, the memories of these moments anchored him. To hope, to care, to try – it was worth it. Or, as Martin told him more than once: “The fog doesn’t go on forever, even if sometimes it seems like it.”
Martin will be okay. He has to be. Jon just has to find his way back to him. He’s done it before; he can do it again. He just has to wake up.
“–m trying – help – came to me.”
Lost in thought, Jon almost doesn’t register the voices. They’ve been there in the background for a few minutes now, he realizes belatedly – they just hadn’t penetrated his conscious awareness. It’s like listening through six feet of soil – he curses his brain for immediately reaching for that mental image – and he strains to translate the dampened noise into coherent words.
“I came to Melanie.”
Georgie!
“Well, sorry. Right now, I’m it.”
Distantly, Jon can hear the steady ticking of a clock, and he spares a moment to be thankful that he couldn’t hear it the entire time he was asleep. It would have made his restlessness even more intolerable, and – as his thoughts veer off track, the voices go muffled again. Damn it.
It takes him a few seconds to refocus his attention.
“– don’t know why this guy would have left a tape recorder?”
Basira.
“You’re the detective,” Georgie says.
“And you’re sure it was him who left it?”
Jon didn’t hear this part the first time around, but he can safely assume they’re talking about Oliver.
“I mean, the nurses said there were no others visitors, so…” Georgie takes a breath. “Unless it appeared by magic?” A pause; Jon can practically hear Basira’s eyebrows raise. “What, seriously?”
“I don’t know,” Basira sighs. “The whole tape thing is… I don’t know.”
To be honest, Jon doesn’t Know, either. That was always one of the things that the Beholding kept to itself, much to his chagrin.
“Right, well… I showed you like you asked, so –”
Breathe, Jon tells himself. Time to wake up.
“Shh,” Basira interrupts. Jon can hear movement nearby. “Down here.”
Come on. Inhale –
Jon can feel his lungs expand ever so slightly.
“I told you.”
Good. Exhale, now.
Jon’s lungs contract, and some of the feeling starts to come into his extremities. He experimentally tries to move his hands and one of his fingers twitches, brushing against the coarse hospital linens. At least it's something.
“This is the one?”
Wake up, Jon, he tells himself, attempting to overlay his thoughts with compulsion. He tries to wiggle his toes, but it doesn’t seem like they’ve gotten the memo just yet. Come on, this is the part where you woke up before. Just – just wake up –
“Sure.”
Jon feels a brief stab of panic – Why can’t I wake up? – and then he feels his heart stutter in his chest. A telltale pins-and-needles sensation begins to spread in his fingers and – this is probably the first time he’s been relieved to experience the precursors to a panic attack.
It’s a good sign, he tells himself. You’re connected to your body again, so just –
“You don’t sound very sure,” Basira says.
It isn’t working. Why isn’t it working?
Come on, open your eyes –
“I mean – I don’t know. It might be a different model, maybe? I thought it was plastic – but yeah.”
Just sit up, just – wake up, Jon.
Nothing.
Neither Basira nor Georgie speak.
The tick of the clock is deafening.
Wait, Jon thinks. What if…
“So what does it mean?” Georgie says eventually.
Open your eyes, Archivist.
His eyes fly open and he sits bolt upright with a gasp.
“Jon!” Georgie yelps, jolting backwards as Basira simultaneously breathes, “Jesus.”
Clutching his throat with one hand, Jon continues to struggle for air in deep, rasping gulps. Each breath comes with a sharp pang and an uncomfortable tightness in his chest, his lungs protesting after months of disuse and refusing to completely expand.
Eventually, although he can still only manage half-breaths, he looks up at Georgie and Basira. Intending to apologize for frightening them, he opens his mouth and –
The tape recorder under his bed clicks on with an earsplitting, static-leaden whine.
Both women startle again, and Jon’s posture goes rigid, his other hand coming up to rest against his throat.
Sorry, he tries to say again, but nothing comes out, and the tape recorder emits another blast of white noise.
Basira and Georgie are watching him closely now – Georgie with concern, Basira with suspicion. Jon looks back with terrified eyes, panic blanketing him with all the weight of the Buried.
No, Jon thinks to himself, not again –
As his vision starts to blur, both trembling hands leave his neck and reach up to cover his mouth.
“Jon,” Georgie says gently, approaching his bedside again, “what’s wrong?”
Jon’s eyes squeeze shut, sending two streaks of tears trickling down his cheeks, and he shakes his head frantically. He tries desperately to stifle the whimper building in his chest, but it’s creeping up on him anyway.
“Breathe, Jon.” When Georgie rests her hand gently on his shoulder, he flinches violently away. She pulls back, holding both hands up palms-out in a pacifying gesture. “Okay,” she says evenly, “okay. No touching.”
Jon has had these episodes for most of his life, and Georgie had witnessed more than a few while they were dating – though they were nowhere near as frequent then as they are now. It's been awhile, but Georgie easily slips into the same soothing tone she would always use.
His brain is already tuning her out, though.
I can’t – I can’t –
The Archive prowls forward and settles in just behind his eyes, an opportunistic vulture watching intently for its next meal. If he really needs to use his voice, the library is available for reference. He just has to –
No – please, no –
Who is he even talking to?
Jon draws his knees up and locks his arms around them, curling his shoulders in and hunching forward to hide his face. He takes a shuddering breath in. It comes out as a strangled sob.
What am I supposed to do now?
End Notes:
Shorter chapter than usual this time since it was originally part of the previous chapter, BUT that kind of felt like a good place to end it for now. I hope to have Chapter 7 ready to go by early next week. Now we REALLY get into some S4 canon divergence.
Oliver's dialogue (up until the point where he starts having an actual conversation with Jon) is from MAG 121; Georgie & Basira's dialogue (up until the point where Jon wakes up) is from MAG 122.
So! For those who like Archive-speak Jon: yes there will be more of that starting next chapter. For those who don't: there will still be original dialogue too. I like writing him both ways too much, so expect a mix from here on out. (Some chapters may have more or less depending on what state Jon's in at any given moment. I'm playing around with some concepts.)
I should probably note at this point that a lot of how I write Jon's ADHD, anxiety, and other mental health stuff is heavily based on my own experiences with neurodivergence. It doesn't mean everyone experiences these diagnoses/symptoms in the same way, though. c:
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Bi the Pricking of my Thumbs #5
<< Chapter 4
Cautionary note: references past abusive/neglectful parenting.
Also on AO3.
If you’re so inclined, feel free to support me over on Ko-Fi
Chapter 5
"Adrien! Nino's here," Papa's voice carried easily into Marinette's room. "Come down and help him carry up the snacks."
"Ooh!" Despite the last three weeks of freedom to eat, do, and be what he wanted, Adrien was still visibly excited about both the arrival of his boyfriend and unlimited Dupain-Cheng treats. "Coming, Papa."
Luka draped their arms over Marinette's shoulders, brushing their cheeks together. "It's nice to see him so happy."
"I know." She smiled, contentedly leaning against them. "Getting to be part of that really makes it all worth it." Adrien had the smaller bedroom, formerly the Dupain-Cheng guest room, and he insisted he didn't mind at all. But it was nice for them to have a place to hang out, all the teens that tended to show up usually in twos and threes, that didn't feel like they were taking over the living room. So Marinette rearranged part of her room, letting Adrien decorate it with beanbags and a ridiculous TV set up for movies and gaming.
"Is it weird having him as your brother now?" Luka asked, giving her temple a light kiss. "I mean, you had a crush on him for a couple of years, and he had a crush on Ladybug for about as long."
Marinette shook her head. "That all died down a long time ago, and he's been such a good friend to me on both sides of the mask." It had been a little terrifying when Luka first told her they'd figured out she was Ladybug. She was grateful they'd waited until after Hawk Moth was in police custody to reveal they'd known almost as long as they'd known each other. They'd also known Adrien's secret, but waited to bring it up until she knew. She and Adrien had decided to keep their superhero identities on a need-to-know basis, for now, at least, and most people didn't need to know.
"No, no, no," Adrien said from somewhere just below her bedroom door. "You go up first."
"You just want to watch me walk away," Nino teased.
"And your point is?" Adrien demanded.
Marinette could imagine his expression and the shrug he'd always used at Chat Noir, but never as Adrien. She giggled and crossed her arms so she could comfortably rest her hands on Luka's shoulders.
"Goodness he's more direct and sassy than he used to be," Luka said, smothering their own laugh in her shoulder. "That's nice, too. No more guessing where he stands or what he wants."
"Hurry up, boys," Marinette called. "It's going to start in less than a minute, and I don't think we want to miss any of this."
Two sets of feet thudded up the stairs, as both Nino and Adrien carried up platters of treats, to set beside the TV. Adrien looked at Luka and Marinette, and she caught a glimpse of his plotting-Chat-Noir face. He swiftly flopped into the beanbag beside them, patting the space in front of him. "I saved a spot for you Neen."
Nino looked and rolled his eyes. "My butt is not nearly as small as Nettie's. I'm not gonna fit there."
"I'll have you know," Marinette pointed out, "that my butt is bigger than it looks."
Adrien snorted with laughter. "You're not wrong. Henceforth I shall call thee…"
"No! Absolutely not!" Marinette squirmed in Luka's hold to bat at Adrien's hand. "I will not answer to Ladybutt."
Luka buried their face in her neck, but she could feel them shaking with laughter.
Adrien flashed her the saddest kitten face is his repertoire. Then he turned it on Nino. "Come cuddle with me," he whined. "My sister is being so mean to me in this difficult time. I'm just a touch starved boy in need of emotional support."
Nino tipped his head back to look at the ceiling, before his posture sagged. "Fine." He drew the word out. "But we need to talk to your therapist about using your past trauma to manipulate your boyfriend."
"Yes!" Adrien moved back to provide a little more room. "I am your barnacle. Come be my ship."
Marinette couldn't hold back the gales of laughter and she didn't even try.
"Dude…" Nino's face was red. "You can't just say shit like that." He settled into his designated spot, not seeming to mind being pulled back against his cuddly boyfriend.
The news show returned from its commercial break, and Marinette snatched up the remote to unmute the audio.
"Welcome to today's first segment of Face to Face, I'm your host Nadja Chamack." The familiar news anchor sat on her pristine couch, but there was no one across from her, signaling that this would not be her usual show. "I'm breaking from format tonight to share a recorded interview with Adrien Agreste from last night. As all of Paris is aware, Adrien's father, Gabriel Agreste was apprehended at Paris Pride Fortnight last month by none other than Ladybug and Chat Noir. With the revelation that Monsieur Agreste was the villain Hawk Moth, the value of his fashion house plummeted, and his son vanished from the public eye." She looked straight into the camera, all good humor wiped off her face, an effect that was creepy. "Last night, Adrien shared with me a story of a broken home. Please be advised that the content of this video includes a frank discussion of child abuse which may be distressing to some viewers."
The camera focused on Nadja's screen, where photos and videos were usually displayed. And after a moment, the studio faded in from black, revealing Adrien sitting on the guest couch.
"Thank you for meeting with me Adrien," Nadja said, her voice much less chipper than usual.
Adrien nodded. "Thank you for having me. And for being willing to do this on my terms." Being able to record the show, instead of performing it live, had been his therapist's suggestion for keeping his anxiety at bay.
Nadja smiled, tipping her head slightly. "First, I wish to offer my condolences. This must be a very difficult time."
"It's weird," Adrien admitted. "It's both difficult but also the easiest thing I've ever done." His hand came up to rub at the back of his neck.
"Can you tell me what's difficult about it?" she asked gently.
"It's... " He stared off into space a moment. "It's hard to wrap your head around something like this. I mean. I knew my father was not a particularly nice man. But I had no idea he was Hawk Moth. It's... " He huffed. "I ask myself at least ten times a day why I didn't see it, how I didn't realize I was living with a terrorist."
"That does sound really difficult," Nadja agreed. "But you know Paris doesn't blame you, right?"
He gave her a rueful smile. "Thank you. I appreciate it every time someone tells me that." He shrugged. "I guess I'm harder on myself than everyone else is."
"What about the situation has been easy for you?" Nadja asked.
"I'm actually happier than I've ever been." Adrien's real smile lit up the screen. "One of my very best friends had already asked her parents if I could move in with them before the arrest."
"Before?" Nadja asked.
Adrien nodded. "Things were… not good living with my father. And she'd seen that, and made a contingency plan for me." He chuckled. "That's just sort of the way she is."
Luka snorted.
"Shush, you." Marinette poked him gently in the thigh.
"And after the arrest, it really made the most sense to just go with that plan." Contentment was clear on TV Adrien's face. "I haven't had a real family since… well… possibly ever. I mean, things were better when my mom was around, but my father was already so controlling, even back then. When she vanished, it just got worse." He sighed. "I have new parents now. We're working on the adoption process."
"Adoption?" Nadja asked in surprise. "Aren't you seventeen? Why would you look at adoption at this point?"
"Do you have a family, Nadja?" he asked softly.
She nodded.
"I really, really want that," he explained. "And I want to know that I'm going to have that for the rest of my life. I love having people I can call mama and papa. I never called my father that. There was… a lot of distance between us. A lot of neglect and unreasonable expectations. I know Papa is proud of me. There was no way Gabriel Agreste was ever going to be proud of me."
"Gabriel neglected you?" she asked. It was clearly the first she'd heard this detail.
Marinette reached out to rest a hand on Adrien's shoulder as the TV version of himself nodded. "It was common to go weeks without seeing him, though we lived in the same house. I ate meals alone, when we were scheduled to eat together. He forgot about my birthdays and stopped celebrating holidays that were important to my mom. He'd promise to show up for things, only to no-show. If I got upset about anything, he'd tell me I was too emotional, and threatened to take away what few freedoms I had. School was a common one."
Nadja stared at him, silent for a moment. "He threatened you because you had emotions?"
Adrien nodded.
"And… school? What do you mean? How did he use that as a threat?"
"I was homeschooled for years, you know," he said, conversational and bright. "I begged to go to school so I could make friends. I felt like Pinoccio, a puppet who wanted to be a real boy. I actually had to run away to school, repeatedly, before he let me attend." He sighed. "But I think he just wanted leverage. The threat of pulling me out of school would get me to cooperate with all sorts of stuff I didn't want to do."
Nadja covered her mouth, looking ill.
"Did she throw up during your interview?" Nino asked. His voice was rougher than usual. Even though he'd already heard all of this, it was still upsetting him.
"No… well, not while I was there," Adrien said. "But it gets better here." He pointed to the screen.
"You're incredibly resilient, Adrien," Nadja said softly. "How about you tell me about your clothes." She gestured to his outfit. "This is a new look for you, and it looks fantastic."
On-screen Adrien grinned and stood up to give the camera the full effect. "Yeah. This was made by my best friend. She has an online shop by the name of Maribug, and she's designed a whole new wardrobe for me."
"It's quite striking," Nadja said. "Much more vibrant than what we've grown accustomed to."
Adrien nodded. "Yeah. My father used to tightly control what I was allowed to wear. He wanted me to project an image of bland perfection. Maribug really knows me, though. And since my father deprived me of the opportunity to come out during Pride, she's created some outfits that fit my aesthetic preferences while also evoking the bi pride flag." The shirt was a pink asymmetric v-neck, with an off-center front zip. His belt was a bold purple. His pants were bright blue and snug, showing off the body Chat Noir had built up.
"Oh," Nadja said in surprise. "Congratulations."
Adrien swiped the remote and muted it again. "The rest is just niceties. You've all heard me say goodbye before."
"You meant it when you said you were happy, right?" Nino asked, twisting to look at his boyfriend.
Adrien nodded. "Really, really happy," he promised.
"I'm glad for you," Luka said. "You deserve it."
"Now that, that's out of the way," Adrien said, leaning forward and nudging the DVD player. "It's time to introduce you all to Nanatsu no Taizai. You're gonna love it."
⁂
Again, huge thanks to @galahadwilder for letting me have a go at this. I really enjoyed it, and it was nice to get to share this side of Pride.
And thanks to all who have read and commented, helping me stay motivated to finish this despite my busy schedule. I'm glad you joined me for this journey.
#Miraculous Ladybug#fanfic#my writing#Pride#Bi Pride#galahadwilder#Bi-Drien#Bi-Nette#Bi the Pricking of my Thumbs#Fluff#happy ending
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Devoted
Pairing: Loki x Reader
Prompt: Just a really body positive and saucy fic that literally no one asked for. Just felt like writing it.
A/N: I read a piece of @ohhhmyloki ‘s work a while back, and was totally inspired. I liked the little bit of body positivity, and thought we could all use more. Also, I apologize if the POV is confusing. It’s kind of second person omniscient (I know, author speak). I wanted something that still felt personal (second person, then), but allowed you to get in Loki’s head too. This fic is also THE. LONGEST. I’m done blabbering. Enjoy!
Warnings: lots of my lovely almost smut, mention of self harm, and a heck ton of self-doubt and body insecurity
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“I’m going to go hop in the shower,” you said, popping up from your spot on the bed. Loki only looked up from his book to watch you sauntering over to your bathroom door. It took every ounce of self control not to have you right then and there. He adored the way your shorts sat on your thighs, and how he could see your curves though you wore an oversized sweater. Having a nice shower seemed the perfect oppurtunity to get you naked.
He smirked that deliciously devious smirk of his.
“May I join you?”
Your cheeks flushed. Your head spun. This was partially from the hungry look he gave you- the way he watched you like a starved cat watching a sparrow. But it was also from sheer terror. You didn’t want him to see you unclothed.
It seemed trivial on the surface. You two had been naked in each other’s company many times. Except you had the comfort of the lights being off, and occasionally sheets covering you, hiding you from curious eyes. Not to mention there was too much passion to particularly see straight or contemplate anything but the pleasure. The thought of being... exposed in front of him made you nauseous.
“Darling?” You realized you were just staring at him- wide-eyed and open-mouthed. You shook head and swallowed audibly.
“Just relax, sweetheart. I’ll only be a minute.” You prayed your sweet tone and loving smile were enough to keep Loki in his place. Well, it didn’t work.
He stood up and wrapped his arms around your waist. Then he began purposefully nibbling your neck, where he knew it got you going. You held back a small moan and pushed him away before getting too caught up in the moment.
“Loki,” you tried more forcefully, “I don’t want to do this. I can’t.” Despite what many would think about him, he always respected your wishes. You knew he wouldn’t try to do anything you didn’t desire. It was one of the many reasons you loved him so dearly.
He wasn’t hurt. He wasn’t angry. He was concerned. He could tell that there was something more going on than you simply not being in the mood.
“Y/N, are you ok?”
Are you ok? For as long as you remembered, that question made you break into tears. You could be unaffected one moment, and broken down the next. You wanted to be strong for him, but as soon as Loki said those words, you could feel the familiar sting of tears.
“Please, just tell me,” he prompted. Knowing there was no way to get out of this now, you let him lead you back to the bed. You both sat there for a few minutes- you avoiding his eyes, crying a bit more, and he taking your hands in his for comfort. Finally, you drew in a sharp breath. And you told him the truth.
“I don’t want you to see me naked.” As crual as it sounds, Loki fought the urge to laugh.
“My love, I believe we’re way past that.”
“That’s not what I mean.” You struggled to find the right words, and he was patient with you. “Yeah, we’ve slept together. But you haven’t really seen me. I’m...worried you’re not going to want me anymore when you do.”
Loki didn’t respond. The silence made the rush of emotion too intense, and gave you the opportunity to carry on.
“I’m not an Asgardian goddess. I’m not even that fantastic of a Midgardian.” The word tasted funny in your mouth. “Loki, you’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. You’re meant to be with some beautiful, skinny goddess of something or other. Not me. I’m fat, I’m not at all beautiful, I’m just... nothing.” He searched your eyes frantically.
“Are you saying I shouldn’t love you because of how you think you look?” You shrugged. He grabbed your shoulders, making your eyes snap to his. He looked the way he did when he talked about his mother, or how his father wronged him, or how Thanos tortured him. He looked devastated.
“Don’t ever say that again. Ever.” His voice shook slightly, startling you. You’d only known Loki to act in such away when he truly cared about something. In a way it was comforting. In another, it terrified you.
He took your cheeks into his hands and used his thumbs to wipe away your tears. You must have looked like a mess. You knew your makeup was all down your face, and snot was beginning to dribble out of your nose. But Loki looked at with you with such admiration, it made your heart hurt.
“I love you. And that means I love all of you. You said I deserve to be with someone perfect, and I am.”
In one fluid movement, his lips were on yours. Your hands instinctively curled into his onyx locks.
After many delicate, chaste kisses, Loki tested the roiling waters. He slipped his tongue between your lips with surprising deftness. The sensation of him gliding into your open mouth, filling it nicely, caused you to grip his hair with more ferocity. You wanted him, but fear still lurked in the back of your mind.
He took his time. He wanted you to feel his deep affection for you. He worried that if he took things too hastily and passionately as he was usually inclined to, it wouldn’t have the same meaning.
Without breaking contact with you, Loki lowered you down onto the bed. Eventually he straightened and positioned himself in between your shins. His hands glided gently beneath your sweater and he raised his brows, asking for permisson. You didn’t grant it right away. You fought with yourself for several moments. What if he changed his mind about you once you were naked beneath him? Would he regret saying such sweet things to you once he saw you? How could you stand the embarrassment?
“Are you sure?” you whispered.
“Absolutely,” he breathed.
Assisting Loki in shimmying off your sweater and shorts felt like diving from a cliff. And the cold, waiting air felt like the water slamming into you, and you into it. The finality of it felt like drowning.
You watched Loki as he drank in every detail of your flesh. Almost everything was on display for his hungry gaze (you were still in your undergarments). You were unsure what to do. You were a butterfly pinned to the corkboard, or rather, as you figured, an unsightly moth.
Loki, on the other hand, was amazed. And undeniably aroused. He had never seen a creature so beautiful. And it was his duty to worship you- to hopefully make you realize how gorgeous you were.
He started where he was, and nuzzled your smooth legs. You closed your eyes in delight. Perhaps this would be worth it. He slowly worked his way upward, nuzzling and caressing as he did so.
When he arrived at your thighs, almost all restraint was thrown to the wind. The softness of them, the appealing amount of flesh to grip while ravishing you made him salivate. He so desperately wished you could see yourself as he did. Instead he could only settle for demonstrating how utterly infatuated- how utterly devoted- he was to you.
You shivered as Loki’s cool tongue dipped into and ran the length of one of your stretchmarks. Self-doubt gripped at you once again. You hated that aspect of yourself. Though he seemed to be enjoying himself, you couldn’t help the feeling he may have found them unattractive.
“Loki,” you interrupted. Unable to quite verbalize your internal struggle, you allowed him into your mind. He only responded by shaking his head and continuing his ministrations.
Loki had to have had his tongue in every single one of the marks before going all in. He sunk his teeth into your inner thigh as if sinking his teeth into the flesh of a most succulent peach. He made a small noise of pleasure in the back of his throat. Your back arched, and a hand curled back into his tosseled hair.
He continued savoring your thighs for a long while until he decided to resume his upward journey. He peppered your stomach and sides in identical bites, all the while whispering “My Queen.” You could get used to this.
After what seemed like hours, Loki’s mouth reached yours- all teeth and tongue and aching devotion. You were done for. You wanted his chilly skin against yours. You wanted him in-
Still listening to your thoughts, Loki pulled away, nodded, and tugged his shirt over his head. You reached down and helped him with the button, then the zipper, of his trousers.
•
“How are you not exhausted?” You breathed. Loki had pleasured you to your limit, but he remained unaffected. A thin sheen of sweat covered his whole being. His cheeks had the tiniest tinge of pink. His eyes were still bright and his breathing even. And despite pleasuring you many times over, he still hadn’t met his own end. You were impressed, if not a little worried you weren’t pleasurable enough. You pushed the thought away, and threw and arm over your eyes.
Loki flopped down beside you, and propped himself on an elbow.
“I’m a god, remember?” You hummed in recognition. You chastised yourself for the previous thought, reminding yourself of his inhuman stamina.
Loki traced runic patterns- spells, probably- on your side. Goosebumps covered your flesh as he did so. You were utterly content for the moment. Loki had worshipped every inch of you, and you felt a certain credibility for his devotion.
“You know,” Loki broke into your thoughts, letting his lips brush over your arm as he spoke, “I have my own insecurities about my... appeal.” You chuckled and removed your arm from your face.
“Loki, come on. You could snap your fingers, and a thousand women would be ready to ride you into oblivion.” He didn’t find your comment amusing. Your face fell.
“You’re quite right, my darling. But only in this form.”
“This form?”
He raised his eyebrows.
“You don’t know?”
You turned on your side to meet him face to face.
“Know that you’re a frost giant?”
He shook his head, then shrugged.
“You know my heritage, but you don’t know... This isn’t... this isn’t my natural form. This,” he motioned to his body, “is all an illusion.”
The curiosity was killing you, but you didn’t want to frighten him. You eased into the question, prefacing it with a handful of kisses and nips at his neck. You slid on top of him and took a stab in the dark.
“Would you show me?”
“You’ll think I’m some sort of monster,” he responded. The hurt in his eyes was heart shattering. You tucked his hair behind his ear and smiled.
“Loki, I promise you. I could never think that.” He bit at the inside of his cheek hard enough to draw blood. Nothing terrified him more than this moment. And you wanted nothing but honesty between you.
After taking one deep breath, and fixing his gaze to the ceiling, his skin began to transform into a rather calming ocean blue. It spread slowly, with no deliberate path, like ink dropped into water. His eyes shifted from their usual brilliant blue to a deep red. Portions of his skin raised into simple, sweeping lines. You followed them with a finger, coming to his hands. Another set of raised lines resided on the inside of his wrist- horizontal, different from the rest.
“Oh, Loki,” you sighed. He turned away.
“See? A monster.” You took his face in your hands. Tears reflected in his eyes.
“I love you, ok? Nothing- nothing- could change that.” You leaned down and pressed a lengthy kiss against his freezing lips. He raised a brow and trailed his hands up your thighs. You giggled.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I haven’t got anything left.” In an instant, he was hovering over you, pinning you to the bed.
“We’ll see about that.”
#tom hiddleston#Thomas William Hiddleston#Loki Laufeyson#loki#tom hiddleston fic#tom hiddleston smut#tom hiddleston x reader#tom hiddleston x you#loki x reader#loki smut#loki fanfic#hiddlesarmy
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Homecoming
Written for KakaSaku Month - Day 2
pairing: kakashi x sakura
event prompt: summer // road trip
additional prompt: “why does that sound like the plot of a coming of age film?”
genre: fluff // romance
word count: 1,364
summary: He watches them for a moment, not tempted to burst their bubble of contentment, and he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved.
A/N: Something short and super sweet because I am like two days behind on my prompts and my rainstorm fic for day one is taking way too long to finish. I hope you all enjoy!
note: this fic is unbeta’d any mistakes are my own.
In hindsight, he really shouldn’t have been all that surprised to find her in his apartment.
Sakura always had this funny way of showing up when he least expected it. Kakashi should have been able to learn to read the signs more clearly or at least be more prepared, but there is little that he – or anyone, really – can do besides go with the flow of her spontaneity. It was one of the reasons why he fell in love with her.
And yet, after all their time together, here Kakashi is, standing stock-still in the entryway to his home, transfixed by the sight of Sakura rolling around on his living room floor with Pakkun.
He watches them for a moment, not tempted to burst their bubble of contentment, and he drinks in the sight of her like a man starved.
Only after he’s had his fill and his perusal of her is complete does he state his greeting of, “I thought I locked the door when I left this morning.”
Kakashi shuffles himself through the archway, pressing the door closed and toeing off his sneakers. He doesn’t hesitate in pulling off the black medical mask in her presence, nor does Sakura have to pester him about wearing it indoors. They had a long conversation a few months back about his self-esteem, about the necessity for him to cover most, if not all, of the horrendous childhood scar that dissects the left half of his face.
Sakura insisted that despite his abnormality, she accepts all of him, and liked to periodically remind Kakashi that their group of friends felt the same way. She was empathetic towards his plight nonetheless, but that didn’t stop her from trying to coerce Kakashi into seeing things from her point of view. Let it never be said that he could be outmatched in stubbornness, however, and as a result, Sakura demanded that they come to an agreement.
The rule was as follows: Kakashi could wear the mask as much as he wanted in public, but never at home.
Not around her.
Sakura’s head shot up at the sound of his voice, fingers pausing in their tickling of a particular patch of fur on Pakkun’s belly. The pug whined at the loss, nipping at her hand in an attempt to make her start petting him again, but Sakura chose to ignore it.
Instead, she examines him, scrutinizing Kakashi in the same way he had done to her upon his arrival. Her study is slow and meticulous, staring at his toes and ending when their eyes meet.
“You did,” Sakura affirms while standing. She brushes off some of the dog hair that accumulated in her lap before adding, “But you always forget that I know where you hide the spare key.”
“There wouldn’t be a need for a spare if you would have told me you would be back,” He mutters. “I would have been here.”
The grin she graces him with is equal parts warm and coy, and Kakashi is drawn in like a moth to a flame. It seems like Sakura must be under the same spell because she meets him halfway, her arms encircling his waist while Kakashi’s wrap around her back.
He holds her close, close enough to be considered suffocating, but Sakura voices no complaints and tucks her head underneath his chin.
“You didn’t tell me you were coming home.”
It’s more of a statement than an accusation, but Kakashi can’t help but feel a twinge of embarrassment by the whiny tenor in his tone. If Sakura noticed, she doesn’t pay it any mind, pulling back far enough so that she can look him in the eye with a sly smirk curling in the right corner of her mouth.
“I wanted to surprise you.” She leans up to place a kiss on the tip of his nose. “You know, for someone who’s seeing their girlfriend for the first time in weeks, you don’t seem all that excited.”
“Maa, would you be happy to see someone that’s going to eat all of your food and steal your dog’s attention for the next three months?” Kakashi questions playfully.
Sakura pouts, her cheeks puffed out and her mouth drawn down in a frown, but Kakashi distracts her by sliding his hands up and along her shoulder blades before he buries his fingers into the tuft bubblegum pink hair at the nape of her neck.
His thumbs press into the underside of her jaw, angling her face a certain way before he leans down to kiss her.
It’s chaste, something soft and sweet, and for the first time since Sakura left for medical school at the beginning of the semester, Kakashi feels whole again. He knows for sure that Sakura reciprocates the sensation because she sighs and practically melts into his embrace.
“That,” She whispers when she pulls away a second later. “Is more like it.”
Sakura presses a kiss to the corner of his mouth, then another right under his left eye where his scar is the widest. She leans back and looks like she's about to say something, but there’s a soft ‘yip,’ then a full-on bark followed by the pitter patter of paws against the hardwood floor.
Pakkun circles them twice before he forces himself between their legs, causing them to break apart. His head sways as his eyes flicker between them, tongue lolled out to one side. Whatever the dog’s internal debate was, it appears that Sakura was the better choice because he starts pawing at her calf, demanding to be picked up.
“See what I mean,” Kakashi mumbles with a roll of his eyes. “Stealing all of my dog’s attention.”
Sakura laughs, a bell-like titter that makes his heart flutter. He really missed that sound; there’s something about hearing it in person rather than over the phone or on facetime.
“He’s liked me better since the moment you adopted him,” She corrects, bending down to pick up Pakkun. She cradles the dog against her chest with one hand, reaching out to tug on Kakashi’s sleeve with the other.
“Come on. You can welcome me home properly by cooking me dinner.”
Kakashi doesn’t protest because he knows when the time comes and he’s about halfway through stumbling, fumbling, and failing to make a decent meal for the two of them, Sakura will grant pity on him and offer some assistance.
-o-
Sometime later, after dinner is finished, the kitchen cleaned, and Pakkun walked, they are lounging on the couch, Sakura curled up against his side.
Kakashi is playing with the ends of her hair, pulling his fingers through the thick strands while halfheartedly paying attention to the movie playing on the television.
“Ino invited us on a road trip in a few days.” Sakura murmurs suddenly, eyes closed as her head rests on his shoulder. “Something about wanting to get everyone together to go explore the countryside before the summer ends.”
Kakashi snorts. “Why does that sound like the plot of a coming of age film?”
Sakura chuckles softly, and he doesn’t see her shrugging her shoulders, but he can feel her shoulders lift underneath his arm.
“It’s Ino. Do you expect anything less?”
No, no he doesn’t. It’s not the first time Kakashi has wondered how Genma has put up with the exuberant blonde for as long as he has.
There's a short stretch of silence in which Sakura shifts her position, and Kakashi changes the channel before he asks, “Do you want to go?”
Sakura doesn’t answer his question right away, and Kakashi doesn’t press, allowing her time to weigh the pros and cons internally.
Eventually, she responds with, “Why not? It’ll be nice to see everyone. I’m sure Naruto and Sai are itching to get their hands on you.”
It is a tempting prospect, and though Kakashi would prefer not to be trapped in confined spaces with Naruto for extended periods of time, he knows that it would make Sakura happy.
And for Sakura, he was willing to do just about anything.
He leans down to press a kiss against her temple before coinciding with, “Sure, but you’re packing for the both of us.”
#KakaSakuMonth2018#KakaSakuMonth#Week1Day2#KakaSaku#Kakashi#Kakashi Hatake#Sakura#Sakura Haruno#Kakashi x Sakura#There really is no plot to this#Just lots and lots of fluff#And cute little moments#domestic fluff#Same Age AU#Maybe?#I'm not sure lol#Homecoming#my fanfiction#my OTP#the otp of all otps#nera writes
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“I’m Not a Heartbreaker, Am Just Getting My Heart Broken”
“You Don’t Know Me.”
You give your hand to me, and then you say goodbye, I watch you walk away beside the lucky guy -Ray Charles
Oh, look at you. Your gonna leave a trail of broken hearts one day.
Lance beamed at his auntie. A sort of pride swells in his chest, and he smiles a crooked grin, showing teeth and all.
A future ladies’ man, that boy is. His grandmother chimes in.
Lance closes his eyes, and boy do they burn. Ugh. Why didn’t anyone warn you that being out in the far reaches of space could cause dry eyes. He rubs them with the heel of his palm, even though he shouldn’t and of course the burning increases. Like someone had dumped citrus juice right into his eyes. He plops his chin upon the edge of the table, his blue tunic slipping down one shoulder.
He hasn’t thought about his family in a while. He wondered why that memory had come back to him suddenly. Probably, because lack of sleep? Or perhaps boredom? Or Perhaps he just misses them?
“Hey, Lance?” Hunk calls.
“Hmm, yeah.”
“Are you going to share the cereal or what, man?” Huh? Oh, he had forgotten about the box of frosted flakes cradled in the crook of his arm.
“Here.” he stifles a yawn, as he slides the box across the table.
“By the way, your cereal is getting soggy.” Shiro chimes in, across from him. Oh. Yeah, cereal. He was supposed to be eating breakfast. Funny, he didn’t have much of appetite, seeing that he was practically starving, as he bound his way down the corridors and halls with an odd craving for Frosted Flakes.
“I honestly, fail to see the point in this meal.” oh, yeah. His frown deepens, that’s why he didn’t have an appetite, as he glared at prince charming over his bowl; he was sitting next to Shiro, peering down at a box of of what he assumed was Raisin Bran. Who likes Raisin Bran in the first place? Weird freaks like Lotor did.
“Huh?” Hunk stopped, mid pour of the milk.
“Why you would pour this liquid substance over it, only for it to become unappetizing.”
“I always wondered the same thing myself, when I was living on earth?” Krolia pipped in. Lance eyed the Galra woman, who sat three seats away from him, followed by Keith, and then Kolivan, who looked seriously out of place at the small table, picking at his bowl, of what appeared to also be Raisin Bran. Lance made a face.
“You’re supposed to eat the cereal before it gets soggy.”
“Then why not eat it dry?” Lotor flipped the box around, his eyes squinted as he tried to make out the foreign language on the back.
“You can,” Hunk shrugged “but most people like it with milk.”
“Is that, so?” Lotor trails off.
“Humans are quite the odd creatures.”
“You mated one, Krolia.” Kolivan states, before finally taking a bite of the strange human concoction. Whether he liked it or not was anyone’s guess.
“Hmm, I know.” Krolia lazily plop bits and pieces of dry cheerios into her mouth. Well, at least someone here has tastes, Lance thought to himself. Keith eyes his mother wearily, as he finishes off his frosted flakes.
“What’s with the face, ~Loverboy~.” His attention snapped to the half-galra woman that was flanking his right at the table, he grimaces.
“Nothing’s wrong with my face! My face is fine. Maybe you should check your face?” he pauses to glowered at her, grinding his teeth as he did, but she only offered him an ear-splitting smile in return “Can’t you sit anywhere else, but here.” he grumbled.
Ezor stuck out her tongue “Nnnnopppe.”
An odd, clipping sound caught his ear. Ah, he forgot about Narti, she was flanked at his left. Why did he feel like he was somehow being threatened, or cornered?
“Narti wants to know why you’re in such a sour mood. Your usually so, annoyingly…. chipper.”
“Well, you can tell~ Narti~, to mind her own business.”
Narti lets out a chirping noise…...
“Uh, huh…... What did she say?”
Ezor flashed a strip of razor sharp teeth “Wouldn’t you like to now.” she snickers. Narti chirps again.
Someone’s pulling his leg here, he groans.
“......Morning, everyone!” and just when his morning was about to nose drive in complete suckery, Allura had finally risen and shined. Lance feels his heart flutter, tapping against his ribcage, as his gaze greets Allura’s disheveled form, her right palm pressed to her lips, and her robe slipping off her shoulders. She was like the living embodiment of light and stars itself. And like a moth to the flame, he could only bask in her glow.
“Morning, Allura!” Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, and Keith mumbled, their voices still strained from sleep.
“Morning, Princess.” Coran, and the rest replied in unison.
“Lance are you alright? You look as if you fought more of a war, then had a good night’s rest.”
“Ah, huh, ah you know me, Allura, not the morning person.” he replies, offhandedly. She offers him a kind smile. And once more his heart soars until-she turns to lean over and plant a kiss on Lotor’s cheek and makes a seat for herself in his lap. And like Icarus his heart plummets to the oceans depths.
“Morning, Love.” she murmurs in his ear.
“Oh!” he lifts an elegant brow “and what do I owe this pleasure.” he leans into her embrace, while she brushes his stupid, perfectly, silky hair away from his brow.
“No reason.” she kisses the top of his hair, as he brings his free hand up to grasp her wrist, and kiss her palm.
Lance quickly looks away to leer at his soggy bowl of frosted flakes all bloated, and gross. He presses a fist to his cheek, as he stirs his spoon through the mess of goop.
“Oohhh, someone’s jellllyyy.” Ezor whispers through pressed lips, and Narti clips in agreement. Lance chose to ignore them.
“Y’know it’s rude to put your elbows on the table, Lance.”
“We're in space, Shiro, Earth rules don’t apply here.” he mutters, though his gaze is averted he could practically feel Shiro’s eyes roll.
“Oh, we’re having that sugary stuff, today!” Allura clasps her hands together in glee.
“I like the captain of planet crunch one!”
“Captain of...Oh, you mean Captain Crunch! Coming right up, Princess!” Hunk winked.
“It is quite delicious though, I’d do prefer it, if didn’t hurt my mouth after a while.” She frowns slightly. Lance can’t help, but find it endearingly cute…. his lips falter.
It’s soon after, that, that Lance finds himself dissociating from the adamant conversations happening around him, he had longed given up tiring to eat anything, or talking to anybody. No matter what he did his gaze kept coming back to Allura. Watching her face light up, as she took a rather ravenous bite of her favorite cereal. Gosh, she was gorgeous. And lovely, and awesome and kind. However, his sense of bliss was soon washed away once more, as he remembered she was sitting on Lotor’s lap. With Lotor’s hand wrapped, tightly and possessively around her waist. With Lotor’s large fingers drumming against her clothed thigh, as he engaged in some boring-political debate with Kolivan, that he’ll never, nor wants to understand. Allura seems more interested in listening than she is in engaging, though she asks question here and there. Then again, it’s probably because the politics is more galra focused then anything……
Lance huffs through his nose. It goes virtually unnoticed, or everyone just ignored his pity-party made for one. Why can’t they just sit like normal? And not flaunt their relationship in everybody’s face, Lance muses bitterly. He watches, as Allura, now finished with breakfast, slips her arms around Lotor’s neck, nuzzling her face into the crook of his throat, and shoulder. He hears her sigh, despite all the loud chatter. Her eyes flutter close, and content. She seems, so happy, so happy without him in the picture-Lance drops his spoon. It clinks against the porcelain, as he feels his heart drop, unceremoniously into the pit of his stomach.
He pulls his chair out with a creek.
“Whelp, I’m all finished!” he loudly announces, his arms stretched lazily, and pulled them behind his head. He does his best to leave the room with his dignity intact. And, so far, so good. No one questions him, as he strides out the door, and once it closes, the chatter commences once more.
His arms drop to his sides, and it feels like his heart is literally breaking into pieces. Bit by bit. It suddenly feels harder to breath. His hands squeeze into fists, as he releases a shudder of breath, and swallows hard.
Why him? Why does it have to be him, of all people?
Why couldn’t it be me… He seethes. Why not me?
He bites his cheek hard enough, he thinks he might have drawn blood.
So, what do you guys think? Comments, Reviews!? I had fun writing this one!
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