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perhaps-in-anotherdream · 5 months

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[CN] Victor’s Cold Winter Date (Eng Translation)

⌚Warning⌚ This post contains detailed spoilers for a date, 凛冬之约, that is yet to be released on the global server! ♡

[Translation under the cut]

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【Subbed Video】

[anika’s notes]: I do very very very highly recommend to watch the video for full immersion + absolute god-level voice acting + the gorgeous music pieces!!! ༼⁠;⁠´⁠༎ຶ⁠ ⁠۝ ⁠༎ຶ⁠༽

youtube

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【Prologue】

I behold My homeland disappear in the daylight, and emerge in the night. I behold The everlasting power engrain within the vast blood of my people. I behold A snow-white rose bloom in the winter, And I behold as it withers in the winter – each petal sailing across the ocean, To a kingdom no one can reach.

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【Chapter 1】

As the night gradually deepens, the heavy curtains in front of the window are drawn by the attendants, veiling the silvery, meandering moonlight.

I take a deep breath and push open the doors to the royal bedchamber engraved with a luxurious imperial coat of arms.

Inside the bedchamber, my newly wedded husband, King Victor, is fast asleep.

Not long ago, at the behest of my father, Duke William, I was betrothed to Victor.

Regrettably, before the ceremony could be held, my parents died of ailing health.

However, the wedding was not delayed due to the unexpected tragedy, and the ceremony proceeded as scheduled, with the Church as witness.

After all, to those people, what mattered the most was not the protagonists of the wedding, but the wedding ceremony itself.

–– That’s right, it’s not just me; even the king, Victor, is not held with significance in their eyes.

After all, it’s known to everyone in the capital that the royal family’s influence is eroding with each passing year. And since Victor succeeded to the throne, he remains in a coma all year round and is merely a puppet in the hands of the Church and nothing more.

The elusive fragrance of beeswax pervades the air in the room. I step on the soft woolen carpet and draw closer to the bedside. [1]

Lately, the capital has been shrouded in a haze of doubts and suspicion regarding the disappearance cases, and it was not the appropriate time for grandeur. Therefore, after the hasty wedding, I was ushered into the imperial palace.

And tonight marks the third night I’m spending alongside His Majesty, the King, who’s been in a state of perennial coma.

Victor is still in a deep slumber.

The light from a few candles illuminates one side of his profound features, while the lingering shadows dance across his face as if with fondness.

Throughout the generations, the kings have always been in robust health. But during Victor’s reign, his health has been continuously plagued with illness.

It seems even the gods cannot bear to be too cruel to him. His illness has only brought a touch of frailty but has not marred his looks.

I inhale softly and sit on the edge of the bed, propping my chin up as I gaze at Victor in his slumber.

MC: ...why are you still sleeping?

I’ve already started to grow accustomed to this— the bedchamber echoing only my own whispered monologues.

MC: I thought the Church was so wary of you because you had some secrets that were unknown to the outsiders.

MC: Now it seems your biggest secret is that you were born this good-looking.

I crack a joke to myself, which also lightens my mood considerably.

MC: When I think about it this way, being married to you is far better than being forced by the Church to marry one of those evil, rotten old men.

In addition, within the palace, at least, there are no hypocritical relatives and those ever-watchful eyes—

I have enough space to contemplate my plan for revenge.

MC: Revenge... revenge... MC: But how can I go about taking revenge on the Church...

Clutching a corner of Victor’s blanket, I cover my face with it in anguish.

The Church conspired to murder my parents.

Because my father was a leader of the reformist faction, they extended their malicious hands targeting my family.

And this marriage, which was arranged by my parents, is now being wielded as a means to threaten my life.

As I ponder on this, the resentment in my heart swells. I heave a sigh, deciding to change my mood and say something interesting.

I sporadically recount some happy and entertaining anecdotes from the past, treating Victor as a well-behaved “sleeping beauty doll.”

MC: ...in autumn, you know, there wasn’t much to do. Winter, in comparison, was way more fun. MC: When I was young, what I loved doing the most was building little snowmen in the courtyard of the duke’s mansion after it snowed. Look, I could make them this big—

Of course, Victor can’t see any of this, and there’s no hope for a response either. After mustering the spirit to prattle on for a while, all I am left with is endless emptiness.

I tug at the corners of my lips, forcing a smile, and as if driven by some strange impulse, I reach out and poke Victor’s face, wishing to get him to have the same expression as me.

MC: Sigh, it’s no fun. I won’t say anything more. ??(Victor): Why won’t you say anything more?

An icy voice suddenly sounds in my ears, carrying with it the raspiness of just being awakened.

I turn my head and nearly let out a scream.

MC: Y-Your Majesty... when did you...! [2]

I’m not sure when, but Victor has regained consciousness at some point. Leaning on a soft pillow, he rubs his temple with one hand.

Victor: I’m conscious, not revived back to life.

MC: ... I’ll sincerely obey Your Majesty’s command!

In a low voice, I respectfully offer him a curtsy. Victor seems to find my behavior amusing, a smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

Victor: The term of address was “you” even just a moment ago. A certain someone changed her tune rather quickly. [3] MC: I’m not “a certain someone,” I am... Victor: I know, Duke William’s only daughter. MC: [surprised] Eh...?

Victor: At the age of seven, you received a scolding for building a snowman with the servants. When you were nine, you had a quarrel with a parrot and suffered a crushing defeat––

MC: Wait a minute, you... you heard all of that?

Victor: You’re too noisy. It’d be hard not to hear, [breaks into a coughing fit] cough, cough...

His words are cut off by a cough. I hastily pour a cup of water and offer it to him under his scrutinizing gaze, keeping silent.

I can’t help but break into a cold sweat.

Could it be that... all the past events I casually mentioned, all those self-deprecating remarks, and even... did he really listen to everything?

But, two days ago, when I plucked up the courage to poke his face, he didn’t react at all... So, when did he actually become conscious?

A vague, looming sense of oppression involuntarily makes me shrink my neck, and I tentatively open my mouth.

MC: ...you know about everything regarding me?

He tilts his jaw slightly upwards, studying my features. His eyes are submerged in the shadows cast by the candlelight, reminiscent of a predator in the dark night.

A good while passes before he eventually accepts the cup, speaking in a tone that is neither amiable nor impassive.

Victor: I do.

I nod and, after a rapid mental calculation, make up my mind. I take a step forward, wearing a small smile on my face as I speak.

MC: Including the fact that I was sent as a spy by the Church?

Victor: [seemingly chokes on water] …

Victor: Are you aware of what you’re saying?

MC: Yes, I’m aware.

I wish to work together with the king to bring down the Church.

And when working with a person like Victor, being transparent and honest is the first principle.

I crouch down at the edge of the bed, looking up at Victor from below.

MC: Your Majesty, I don’t want to hide anything from you.

MC: Prior to our nuptials, my parents were brutally attacked by the Church due to their advocacy for the reformation of the Church.

MC: The Church, to exploit my worth, spared my life and assigned me to spy on you.

Victor arches an eyebrow, clearly still assessing the credibility of my words.

Victor: Continue.

I press my lips together and lower my head, trying to convey my utmost sincerity.

MC: ... I’m unsure of to what extent you know about me, but I’ve never once considered surrendering to the enemies who murdered my parents.

MC: Now, in terms of both sentiment and reason, we are a family, and I cannot betray my husband.

MC: So... Your Majesty, will you take me under your wings?

I blink my eyes at him with a pitiful look, not knowing whether Victor would buy into it.

Victor: …

As if in need of a moment to compose himself, Victor seems to momentarily avert his eyes before he turns them back to me again.

Victor: Family... you seem to have accepted your new identity quite readily.

MC: Besides you, what else do I have to rely on?

MC: On the contrary, even after hearing my confession, if you’re unwilling to help me, I don’t have anything to lose.

I flutter my eyes at Victor.

MC: Your Majesty, I’ve already got nothing left to lose.

Victor holds a straight gaze on me. In his eyes, while there is finally a hint of recognition, it’s more as if he is peering into the past through me.

Victor: ...I will help you.

His well-defined hand sweeps my loose hair strands back for me. But before I can breathe a sigh of relief, the next second, my chin is cupped and pivoted to face him.

Victor: The prerequisite is that you can offer sufficient value to me.

His grip is surprisingly strong for someone who has just regained consciousness. As our eyes interlock, his penetrating gaze intently scrutinizes my innermost thoughts.

Victor: In your eyes, your husband, whom you’d never met before, is nothing more than a puppet who remains in coma year-round, isn’t that right?

Victor unfolds his hand to me, revealing a gem as vividly red as the human heart in his pallid palm, and then he encloses his hand—

In the blink of an eye, the signs of illness are shed off his face, and a rosy hue colors his cheeks, and he seems to be bathed in a divine light.

MC: This is... do you know witchcraft?!

Victor places the gem back in its case, then casts a brief look in my direction, apparently turning a deaf ear to what I’ve said.

Victor: This doesn’t concern you.

He slowly curls his lips, and his pupils, akin to the deep sea in the darkness, are as profound and enigmatic.

Victor: There’s a set of clothing on the bedside table. If you want to prove that you’re not just a noble canary—

Victor: Tomorrow morning, change into it and accompany me out of the palace.

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[Notes]:

[1] Beeswax is often considered a symbol of “eternal love” in Eastern cultures.

[2+3] During her monologues in the 1st quarter of the date, MC was addressing Victor by “你” (informal ver. of ‘you’) pronoun. But the moment he butts in, i.e., gains consciousness, MC immediately switches to “您” (courteous/ respectful ver. of ‘you’) and the respectful address “Your Majesty,” which he teases her about here, haha.

Point to be noted: MC doesn’t switch back to the informal terms of addresses until the 3rd chapter of the date, when they’re already in love and inseparable for the time being. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

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【Chapter 2】

While I’m still struggling with myself, Victor has already closed his eyes again.

Victor: You can sleep anywhere you want; just don’t make any noise.

MC: ...Yes, Your Majesty!

The idea of having this mysterious and aloof king sleeping next to my pillow feels more chilling to me than freezing in the cold itself.

I don’t hesitate at all. I swiftly grab a pillow from the bed and get prepared to spend the night on the sofa.

But it turns out I actually overestimated my ability to withstand the cold. Before the clock hands have even moved a few notches, I quietly tiptoe back to the bed, hugging the pillow.

MC: [to herself] It’s just that the weather is too cold. I just want to feel a bit nice and warm—

With a huff, I murmur in a soft voice and gently lift the coverlet to slip inside.

Once I’ve got my body settled comfortably, I cautiously look towards the person on the pillow next to me.

Victor isn’t awakened by my movements. Even in the darkness of the night, his skin is luminously white, his features handsome— he is reminiscent of a sculpture crafted from snow.

Considering this person’s track record of feigning sleep, I simply watch him quietly without making any more rash moves.

As I continue watching like this, my mind inexplicably begins to wander.

Although just moments ago, I kept addressing him as “my husband” repeatedly, when I look at Victor’s cold and handsome demeanor, I always find it difficult to connect him with that identity.

In my impression, the image of a husband and wife is like that of my parents. So, in the future, will Victor and I also be joined at the hip and inseparable like that?

Thinking about that reserved and unsmiling face, I can’t help but get chills.

In his eyes, I seem to be nothing more than a “useful person.” But what value can I provide for him?

The more I ponder, the more my head throbs, and it’s not until the horizon starts to turn slightly pale that I eventually drift into sleep.

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With the break of dawn, I promptly get out of bed and change my attire. Victor has woken up as well.

Seemingly noticing the dark circles under my eyes, he arches an eyebrow, lifts his hand, and tosses a cloak over to me.

Victor: It seems like while your courage is not at all small, your confidence sure is lacking.

MC: I just don’t wish to unnecessarily show off in front of you.

I fasten the cloak tightly and purposely straighten my neck.

MC: Your Majesty, please lead the way.

We exit the palace through a small gate, cross through the commoner’s district, and Victor leads me straight into a small house.

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Going from the small house into the cellar, and after navigating through a labyrinth of winding pathways, the cramped field of view suddenly opens up to a wide panorama.

Everyone: Your Majesties.

I never anticipated that the entire hall would actually be filled with guards, all standing in a perfectly ordered formation.

— To pull together an assembly of so many armed personnel, Victor must have spent a substantial amount of time, hasn’t he?

I’m hardly able to restrain my inner shock as I think back to the frequent news in recent years of nobles associated with the close-knit sects being removed from power or inexplicably meeting tragic ends. Now, it seems...

Every single person, myself included, severely underestimated this “dying” king standing before me.

At this moment, Victor picks something up from the long table, and it’s only now do I notice that there are all kinds of torture equipment laid out on the table.

The appearance of these torture instruments is menacing, and at their tips, dried blood remnants are still visible.

Practically, the moment I get a good look at them, the reeking of blood and rust assaults my nostrils. I subconsciously cover my nose and mouth, tightly gripping the cuff of my sleeve.

Subordinate: Reporting to Your Majesty, these are the “refining” equipment we found at the scene.

Subordinate: But those people are as cautious as rats at dusk; we’ve only found these pieces of material evidence so far. The remains of the blood sacrifice are still being sought.

Victor nods calmly, and once the arrangements are made, the guards depart in an orderly manner through various secret passageways.

Victor and I are the only ones remaining in the large hall. I make a conscious effort to restrain myself from looking at those torture instruments, regulating the rhythm of my breathing.

MC: Your Majesty, did you bring me here to witness something so horrifying to disclose some kind of truth to me?

Victor: Face has turned pale, but still got some courage.

A smile tinged with what appears to be praise appears on his face, as he takes out from his bosom the gem that resembles a human heart from last night.

The crimson light radiating from the gem spreads across his cheeks, eerie yet bewitching.

Victor: The purpose of all these blood sacrifices is to provide energy for this “Blood King Crystal.”

My eyes widen in incredulity as I stare at the pulsating vivid red in his hand, sensing a faint inkling of what it might signify.

MC: When you hold this Blood King Crystal, your complexion appear rosier, and you don’t cough as much...

MC: Could it be that the Church officials want to extract energy from commoners to enhance their physical strength?

Victor: Not the Church; it’s the Royal Family.

Victor doesn’t shy away from nodding his head. He stares fixedly at the red gem that provides him with strength, but in his eyes, there is only icy coldness.

Victor: The vitality and longevity of successive kings across the dynasties were all due to their possession of the “Blood King Crystals” that were assembled from the lives of countless ordinary people.

Victor: The Church refines it, and the Royal Family uses it, thus resulting in the Royal Family being controlled by the Church from then on.

Victor: And anyone who uncovers this secret will die.

My thoughts go back to my parents, as well as the reformist cabinet ministers— could it be that they all had...?

My heart immediately falls into a valley.

I close my eyes for a moment, then fix my gaze firmly on the unwavering king before me, a king who has endured extreme hardships and made sacrifices to stand where he is now. [4]

MC: Your Majesty, currently, there is a significant following of the Church among the populace. We must find the evidence of the blood sacrifices and bring it to light for everyone to see.

MC: I will carry on my parents’ legacy and work alongside you to find evidence of the Church’s blood sacrifices.

In those forever serene eyes of Victor’s, I see the glint of a smile.

Victor: [assuredly with obvious happiness] It appears you’ve perfectly inherited the chivalry and wisdom of Duke William.

MC: Well... it’s not entirely that. Whether in public or private matters, it’s only right that I stand by your side.

I wink at him, half-jokingly breaking the somewhat somber atmosphere.

MC: After all, I’m not only the daughter of Duke William. I am your wife and, more importantly, the queen of this country.

Victor: Is that right? It doesn’t seem to me that a certain someone possesses the temperament of a queen.

MC: Regarding that... I will work hard, so you can’t keep teasing me all the time.

Victor laughs in spite of himself and reaches out his hand, gesturing for me to take his arm.

Victor: [laughs helplessly] Very well. My Queen, we should return now.

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After coming out of the subterranean passageway, we follow the same path back. We were in a hurry when we came here. It’s only now do I take notice of the surroundings.

In the nearby roadside, peddlers are selling fresh produce, while in the distant square, a group of less fortunate are circled around a fire, warming themselves and singing songs.

The streets in the commoner’s district are intersected, narrow, poverty-stricken yet bustling with life, in stark contrast to the overwhelming dead silence of the royal palace.

I hardly ever left the mansion, so I find myself unable to resist taking in the surroundings repeatedly.

Victor: Does the Duke’s daughter find these things interesting?

MC: ...no, no, I’m just looking around in passing, that’s all!

Victor’s hand offhandedly adjusts a corner of my cloak. He takes a long stride, veering from the route back to the palace and heading in a different direction.

Victor: That path is too narrow. Let’s stroll this way and get some fresh air.

We slowly stroll along, taking in the surroundings as we walk. Not far ahead, there is a dilapidated small tavern. Victor gestures for me to take a look.

Victor: I just suddenly recalled that you mentioned being curious when you were little and licking the snow with a fork.

Victor: During winter, the iron cups in the tavern also have an element of sweetness. You should try it some other time.

My scattered thoughts, fluttering around like wild and untamed grass, suddenly drop to the ground, and I can’t help but choke.

MC: ...Your Majesty, are you teasing me?

There is a slight curve at the tip of Victor’s brow as he gently curls the corners of his lips into a smile.

Victor: [laughs softly] Perhaps I am, or perhaps, it is a sincere recommendation.

MC: Could it be that you’ve drawn that conclusion after experiencing it firsthand?

Victor: You could say that.

Seeing him take the bait, a massive smile spreads across my face.

MC: So, speaking of, does that mean that you’ve also stuck your tongue to an iron cup in the past?

Victor seems to choke on his words for a moment. He shoots me a wordless look and walks forward, paying no mind to me.

MC: [teasingly continues] So, did that really happen? Did it happen or not...

We’ve almost circled the area surrounding the palace. Victor is tall and has long legs, but from the beginning, he has maintained a matching pace with me, making it so that I can always touch his shoulder by simply turning sideways.

The weather is very cold today; my hands and feet are freezing, yet I deeply breathe in the bitingly chilly but liberating air.

Even though I cannot purchase any dubious items to bring back to the palace, and even though I know the end of this path leads to the imperial palace that holds me captive—

But perhaps because I have someone walking alongside me, I feel surprisingly at ease.

In my sight, obscured by the chilling breeze, I see Victor squatting down and petting a skinny kitten at the corner of the alley.

The cat stretches its body and lays down lazily under Victor’s hand, meowing. Victor smiles, and both of them then look at me together.

Victor: [extremely softly] The winters in the future won’t be as chilling anymore.

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[Notes]:

[4] The idiom used here is “越王勾践,” which came to life from the true story of King Goujian. I’d encourage you guys to just even google and see the small wiki on him if you can. This idiom in and of itself is the essence of the date in terms of Victor’s perseverance, and how he imposes suffering on himself for the constant reminder of what it is he’s fighting for by refusing to use the “Blood King Crystal.”

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【Chapter 3】

Victor soon announces the news of him regaining consciousness to the masses, sending waves of shock to everyone across the country.

Amidst the reigning turmoil among the Church and the nobles, he proposes visiting the prominent noble households.

In my capacity as the queen, I rightfully visit every noble residence with him, where we find numerous correspondences implicating the collusion between the nobles and the Church.

The nobles kept the letters for the purpose of blackmailing the Church, both sides engaging in mutual exploitation, but they never once considered that there could be one day when they’d have to face the consequences.

Using the letters as a starting point, a series of pivotal evidence regarding the Church’s blood sacrifice is unearthed through Victor’s thunderous methods.

I, on the other hand, use my identity as an orphan of the reformers to help him win over the newly elevated nobles. More and more people begin to rally to our side...

When a former subordinate of my father hands me a letter, as if in tacit agreement, both Victor and I simultaneously realize that the final piece of the puzzle has fallen into place.

It’s about time for the verdict to be pronounced.

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Tomorrow, Victor will convene a National Convention to expose the crimes of the Church to the masses.

I can’t fall asleep, so I rise from the bed and pace around the bed chamber in my nightgown.

Victor: [laughs helplessly] If memory serves me right, the person set to address tomorrow is not the queen; it’s the king.

He is lying in bed with drowsy eyes. Turning towards me, he speaks in a low, raspy voice, infused with a teasing tone.

MC: ...I didn’t realize I’d wake you up despite the carpet being so thick. I guess I’ll just go outside and sleep elsewhere.

As I drape on my outer garment and am about to head outside the chamber, my wrist is suddenly gripped from behind, pulling me back onto the bed.

Victor: [in an overwhelmingly sensual tone] You’re the queen. Where do you plan on sleeping when you look like this?

Tangled up in my thoughts, I have tousled my hair, causing it to become disheveled. Victor sighs, who then picks up a comb and sits behind me.

Victor: [switches to an overwhelmingly tender tone] Dummy. What is there to be nervous about?

The moderate pressure on my hair pacifies my restless heart. I rub my ears, which have heated up, trying to shift the topic of conversation to conceal my shyness.

MC: In the past, when my father would go to visit the king, my mother would become anxious like this and often wouldn’t even be able to eat anything.

Victor: So, what would happen next? I’m afraid the duke probably wouldn’t let his duchess remain in a constant state of worry.

MC: Mm-hmm. Whenever this kind of situation arose, my father would always hold my mother’s hand...

As I speak, I immediately begin to regret it a little. It feels like I’m sending a rather awkward hint.

Without waiting for me to dwell on more embarrassing thoughts, Victor’s hand has already enveloped mine, and the warmth from his palm flows to my icy fingertips.

His temperature is reminiscent of dandelions in a garden, floating gently, landing on my face and neck.

We are the puppet king and queen, husband and wife in name only. Even though we reside together in the same bedchamber, we’ve never been this intimate.

I feel a sensation as if a feather quill is caressing my throat, making it impossible for me to conceal the true feelings harbored in my heart.

Reflexively, I tighten my grip on Victor’s hand and turn to face him.

MC: Victor, to be honest, even though I never mentioned it before, I used to think you were quite unfeeling.

Victor: There was no need to say it; it was written all over your face.

Victor: Also, not addressing me as “Your Majesty” anymore?

MC: In any case, you are not going to hold it against me now, will you?

MC: During this period of time that I’ve spent with you, running here and there together, I’ve come to realize in every passing moment that I hardly knew anything about you before.

MC: For instance, in the case of those Church henchmen, according to the old laws, their families should have been exterminated, but you chose to exercise your discretion and grant amnesty to those who were unaware.

MC: And regarding the commoners who have fallen victim to the blood sacrifice, you’ve been supporting their families with long-term financial aid.

MC: You always project an image of keeping people at a thousand-mile distance, but in reality, there is also a tender side to you.

A flicker of astonishment crosses Victor’s eyes, but he simply tightens his grip on my hand.

Victor: [with a very evident hesitation in his tone] It sounds like... getting to know me is something that brings you joy?

MC: Yes, it does. I wish to know you even better— the past you, the present you, and the future you.

I gaze deeply into his eyes.

MC: But you’re so encumbered by everything. I can only utilize the little time you set aside for me each day to learn about you amidst the calls of the people.

Victor: ...MC.

Victor’s eyes tighten, and a heartfelt and regretful emotion swirls within them.

MC: I don’t wish to rob you of your time because of my selfish desires.

MC: So, after the National Convention concludes, and when you’re no longer so busy...

I draw in a breath, low and slow. And like that, just like the first time I met him, I lay bare all my yearnings and affections before him.

MC: Reserve some time for me, will you? Not in your role as the king, but as my husband. Share your stories with me.

MC: Will you, Victor?

All my thoughts translate into clumsy words, pouring out like the way winter grass eagerly awaits spring rain, confessing everything I have in me.

Victor continues gazing at me like this, until that gaze of his becomes infused with almost sorrow and a reluctance to part.

Before I can decipher those cryptic code words, he has already cast his eyes downward, veiling the emotions within.

Is this a silent rejection? I exert myself to force a smile, intending to crack a joke to ease the situation, but then he speaks first.

Victor: [if a person’s voice alone could shatter one’s heart, I swear this would be it] There’s no need to wait till later. Let’s do it now.

In astonishment and jubilation, I look up, locking eyes with his sincere gaze.

On the night before the pivotal moment in destiny, I finally witness Victor’s wordless confession.

──────────

The following day, the National Convention proceeds as scheduled.

Attired in royal robes, Victor stands at the forefront. Below the platform, countless eyes, some treacherous and others devout, are all converged on him.

Victor: In my capacity as the king, I stand here only to declare one thing.

Victor: The mysterious disappearances in the capital over the years have all been caused by the Church.

The earth-shattering statement stirs up a commotion among the people, and the followers of the Church appear visibly unsettled.

Victor: The Church extracts energy for the “Blood King Crystal” through the massacre of civilians in blood sacrifice rituals.

Victor: As for the particulars, I will leave it to the Knight Commander to elucidate.

The attendants toss numerous sheets of paper into the crowd off the platform, each containing records of clear and unmistakable evidence.

In a matter of moments, the crowd transitions from initial silence to restlessness, ultimately erupting into an agitated uproar.

It turns out that the matter of the true culprit behind the disappearance cases has been an enduring emotional anchor for the people, completely overturning everyone’s cognition.

Some hurling curses, some wailing, and some even charging to express their scorn at the Church...

Amidst the chaos, only Victor’s voice, his calm and powerful words, continues forward with a steady resolve.

Crowd: Overthrow the Pope, give us back our people! Overthrow the Pope, give us back our people!

As the chants and shouts cease and amid the furious uproar of the crowd, the Pope, who is ringed, calmly casts a glance in Victor’s direction.

The Pope: Silence. Dear Compatriots.

The elderly Pope walks slowly to the center of the platform, an inscrutable and chilling smile playing on the layers of wrinkles on his face.

The Pope: His Majesty speaks the truth. The Church does indeed extract energy for the “Blood King Crystal,” and the blood sacrifice of civilians has truly occurred.

The Pope: However, all these casualties and deaths stemmed from the demands of the royal family!

The Pope: Throughout history, every king has relied on the “Blood King Crystal” to survive, and even our righteous and dignified king, His Majesty, is using it at this very moment!

The Pope: The very purpose of the “Blood King Crystal’s” existence is to secure the longevity of the king. Without a king, who will lead the country? How can the kingdom have a future?

The Pope raises the scepter high, directing it towards Victor.

The Pope: Your Majesty, the Church has been faithful and devoted to the Crown for all these years. As you pronounce judgment on the Church’s sins today, do you not feel a sense of guilt?

The wrath of the masses below the platform has no outlet after his manipulative and distorted speech, and their eyes shift to Victor.

Silent inquiries and judgments flood the eyes of the crowd, prepared to tear everything to shreds at any second.

The noble king, however, has maintained his impassive demeanor from the beginning. He lapses into a moment of silence, gazing into my eyes.

Amid the scrutiny of the spectators below, I lock my eyes with him, and in that gaze, I see the very same expression of unwillingness to part that I wasn’t able to discern last night.

But at this moment, I seem to understand its meaning.

Holding back the bitterness in my eyes, I take a step forward and speak in a loud voice.

MC: What the Pope said is true. The kings of the previous dynasties colluded with the Church for their personal gains, resulting in the slaughtering of civilians.

MC: However, the Blood King Crystal has never been a precious treasure, but rather a curse.

MC: As each king became more reliant on it, the health of the royal descendants suffered increasing repercussions, which led to an even deeper dependence on the Church.

MC: His Majesty has been working tirelessly to put an end to these nefarious activities, solely for the sake of the future of this country.

MC: As for the Blood King Crystal...

I close my eyes, my eloquent speech coming to an abrupt halt. This elicits puzzled murmurs from the crowd off the platform.

At this time, Victor walks to the forefront of the stage.

He retrieves the vivid red gem from his bosom, and the blinding luster falls on his chest, projecting an image as if blood were coursing through.

Victor: Behold, the Blood King Crystal.

Before anyone can comprehend, Victor swiftly exerts a slight force with his fingertips, and the Blood King Crystal instantly disintegrates into fine fragments in his hand.

Pope: You...!!

Countless crimson red powder, reminiscent of blood, streams out from between his fingers, and his complexion has already turned a shade of pallor.

The elixir of immortality, amassed from the sacrifice of countless human lives across generations of kings, the venomous sac upon which the Church depends for survival, has been completely eradicated before the eyes of everyone.

Victor: Those deserving of being brought to reckoning, not a single person will be spared.

Victor: That includes the Church, as well as the Royal family.

He unfurls the hand that holds the Blood King Crystal. His palm now only holds a thin layer of gemstone powder, and he allows it to be carried away by the northern breeze.

Victor: Henceforth, dust will return to the earth, and blood will be bestowed upon the people.

Victor: I shall personally redeem the filth that has accumulated for far too long.

—

•─────⋅◍♡◍⋅─────•

—

【Chapter 4】

In the wake of the National Convention, Victor instigates a series of reform policies to root out corruption, setting off a massive surge across the country.

He works tirelessly day and night, paying no heed to my attempts to dissuade him. There is an urgency in him that I don’t want to understand, a rush that drives him to get everything in order.

Throughout this time, I’ve been seeking out renowned physicians from everywhere, but all I’ve received are negative answers filled with a mix of dread and despair.

Until one day, he slips back into a coma again, and even the duration of his coma seems to be stretching longer and longer as the days elapse.

And all I can do, or more accurately, want to do, is simply to remain by his side.

With his eyelashes hanging low, a gentle shadow falls upon that beautiful yet pallid face, and it seems even his breathing has become very light.

As I gaze at Victor’s side profile in deep slumber, I can no longer find the same relaxed and carefree state of mind I had when I first stepped into the royal bedchamber.

He is no longer someone who could have confined me, the husband I had never met before, but rather my beloved with whom I have been through thick and thin together.

My only wish is for him to open his eyes and look at me, share some dry jokes, and then walk with me through the streets and alleys again and observe how people are living nowadays...

Victor’s life began wither away the instant the Blood King Crystal was shattered. All he can do now is expend every ounce of the remaining warmth.

He knew the consequences better than anyone else, yet he still orchestrated his own ending with his own two hands.

I remain by the bedside, tightly holding onto his hand. I can’t tell whether I’m trying to comfort him or myself.

MC: [sobbing] Victor...

Tears well up and stream down my eyes. A hand reaches up to caress my cheek, gently wiping away those tears.

Victor: Why are you crying?

Victor has woken up at some point without my notice and is now frowning as he looks at me.

Quickly, I wipe away the tears in a haphazard manner, the corners of my eyes stinging from the abrasion of my forceful fingertips.

MC: I’m alright. Are you hungry? What would you like to eat?

Victor doesn’t answer. Instead, his gaze passes over my shoulder and settles on the view outside the window.

Victor: It’s snowing.

It’s only now do I take notice that the imperial palace courtyard has already been blanketed in snow, transforming into an expanse of pristine white.

Victor: Weren’t you most fond of building snowmen when you were a child? Why not give it a try now?

MC: But your health...

Victor: [in an even tender and heart-wrenchingly weaker tone] It’s just building a snowman.

I press my lips together. The truth is, I have long grown to despise winter, and I don’t like building snowmen anymore.

After the death of my parents, the attendants who had been my companions from childhood to adulthood were all substituted with the informants from the Church, and the duke’s mansion became eerily cold and desolate.

The winter season I once loved became increasingly colder as time went on, and I no longer had the desire to go out. Warmer seasons began to become more likable to me.

But none of these are worth mentioning to Victor. Because this winter— it is marked by the moment I met him.

I nod.

MC: Of course.

MC: In that case, I must show you the snowmen-building skills I’ve honed since childhood!

I force a smile and step outside with Victor after donning our outer garments. He tucks my hand into his cloak.

Victor: A certain someone was shivering in the cold during the last outing, and she still forgot to bring her gloves this time.

MC: I did it intentionally. Otherwise, how could I get Your Majesty to help warm my hands?

With this said, I slip my chin into my cloak, and the smile at the corner of my mouth instantly fades away.

Victor’s hand is much colder than mine. Taking a deep breath, I grip his hand even tighter, and together, we step into this pure white world.

──────────

The chilly breeze howls as Victor and I tread through the snow, neither of us uttering a word. [5]

Reminiscent of a wanderer losing its way, the mist hangs over the frigid ground and eventually dissipates into the pale grayish expanse above.

Victor suddenly loosens his hold on my hand.

Victor: Didn’t you want to showcase your skills to me? Why aren’t you going yet?

I cast a brief glance at the mounds of snow under the trees, nod in silence, and reluctantly let go of his hand despite my heart breaking. [6]

MC: Well, Your Majesty, please wait for just a short while.

I tighten Victor’s cloak for him, then dash to the snowdrifts and begin building a snowman.

My hands move at a blazing pace. There is only a single thought circling in my mind right now, and that is to swiftly end this time-wasting game and return to his side as fast as possible.

To add to my woes, the newly fallen snow proves challenging to shape, much like bleached wool. Despite my vigorous efforts to press the snow together time and again, the snowballs continue to fall apart, each and every time.

A mix of vexation and restlessness churns in my heart. I have nearly exhausted all the strength left in my body to mold the snowballs, and both my hands are now aching from the cold.

Victor: [with endless helplessness] Dummy, no one is competing with you for first place. There’s no need to be in such a rush.

Subconsciously, I pause in my movements, turn my head, and find him gazing at me with a serene expression.

The urgency and anxiety in my heart seem to find equilibrium, and my hands unconsciously settle into a steadier motion.

Regrettably, the snowman I end up crafting doesn’t even qualify to be described as “adorable.” Even so, Victor earnestly lowers his head, observing it with the bearing of a connoisseur appreciating a gem.

Victor: To create this shape without it falling apart is indeed a testament to skill.

His teasing remark elicits a chuckle from me. I pick up a twig and walk over to him.

MC: There’s still one last step, but it requires Your Majesty and me to complete it together.

Placing the twig in his hand, I then hold onto his hand, and together, we draw eyes and a mouth on the snowman’s face.

Victor chuckles softly, and conversely, he grasps my hand, guiding it to make strokes.

Victor: You’re holding so tightly; its eyes are all crooked now.

Looking at the snowman with its enlarged eyes due to our modifications, I’m just about to crack a few jokes when I notice a touch of weariness on Victor’s face.

MC: We’ve almost completed the snowman. Would you like to rest for a while?

Victor: I know a tavern. Come with me.

We’ve arrived at the alley where we met that kitten before. It has undergone a complete transformation, and the newly opened tavern is bustling with patrons.

It’s a snowy day, and the tavern is filled to capacity. I initially thought that there would be no seats available. However, the owner leads us straight into a room.

MC: Huh? Did you reserve the room with the owner in advance? But you weren’t...

Victor brushes away the snowflakes off my head, seeing through my puzzlement.

Victor: I arranged it in advance, yes.

Victor: Since I didn’t know when I would be awake, I told the owner beforehand that I would have this room reserved for as long as it snows.

The fire in the hearth produces a crackling sound. Victor’s facial features are enveloped in the cloud of heat, his eyes gentle.

Victor: I just thought that one day, I would take you out to see the snow.

We sit on the terrace, sipping the warm wine. Amidst the aroma of wine wafting in the air, he speaks in a soft tone.

Victor: I did stick my tongue to a cup in the past. It happened when I was five years old and had a taste of my father, the king’s red wine in secret. My mother, the queen, had gotten quite the shock.

MC: Eh? What are you talking about...

Victor: Dummy, aren’t you always clamoring about wanting to hear my stories?

He says it as if it were the most natural thing, as if this were merely an ordinary winter day, as if we were an ordinary married couple offhandedly conversing about our everyday life while enjoying a drink and keeping ourselves warm by the fire.

The north breeze makes my eyes sting, but I still force myself to smile as I look at him.

MC: So, it turns out that His Majesty was a dummy, too, when he was five years old. How about when you were six? What was it like?

Victor: When I was six...

In the back-and-forth questions and answers, more than twenty years of Victor’s life have become etched in my mind.

I dare not listen. I can’t help but feel as if once I’ve heard everything, he will leave me. And yet, I listen carefully to every single word.

I listen to the way he speaks each word— the way his teeth collide, the way his two lips meet, the way the nuances of his trailing notes alter between closing and releasing.

Victor: Next, it’s the day when I got married to a certain someone.

MC: ...there’s no need to tell the next part of the story. After all, the stories related to me have only begun.

Victor pauses, but doesn’t follow up my words with a playful remark.

MC: ...Victor?

Victor: What’s wrong?

I shake my head, and when I open my mouth again, the name that has been lingering on the edge of my lips and weighing on my heart spills out involuntarily.

MC: Victor.

Victor: Mm, I’m here.

He tacitly acquiesces to my almost naïvely foolish behavior, responding to my call of his name over and over again. It feels as though, if only I can keep confirming like this, the hole in my heart would be filled.

MC: ...Victor.

This time, he doesn’t speak. The silence forces me to stop.

MC: [sobbing] I just want to know... what can I do to make you stay... [7]

Victor sighs softly and beckons to me.

I lean over and nestle in his frigid arms.

As if he can no longer support the weight of his long, ink-black eyelashes, he casts his gaze downward. His nearly translucent skin appears as if it’s about to blend with the sunlight.

Victor reaches out and touches my cheek, his finger pads caressing the contours of my face with utmost gentleness, as if sketching my features.

His fingertips carry with them the chill of death, making me shiver involuntarily.

Slowly and stiffly, I weave my words together, but the sentences that come out of my mouth are still shakily out of tune.

MC: [teary-eyed x1] Victor, do you find it a little chilly? Maybe your cloak is too thin?

MC: [x2] The fire is obviously burning so strongly, and the mead is also very warm... [8]

MC: [x3] Look, there’s a kitten on the eaves over there. Isn’t it the one we met that day?

MC: [x4] It looks so lively today. Seems like its frame of mind is as cheerful as ours.

When I utter the last sentence, I hear his gentle sigh.

At the same time, the laughter of playful children chasing each other, the chatter of young people, and the sighs of emotions of the elderly can be heard amidst the wind and snow.

Victor: Hear that, the sounds outside.

The sunlight seeps through the terrace, haloing and enveloping the surroundings with a layer of warm and bright haze.

Bathed in that glow, my body’s consciousness returns little by little. I tightly clutch his hand, no longer shaking.

MC: [x5] I can hear it. It’s almost New Year, and the streets are bustling and serene.

Victor: The snowfall this year is promising. So, the harvest will be abundant next year.

MC: [x6] Yes, people will become more affluent and happier.

Victor: You will be a part of it all, too, and that’s really good.

I bury myself in his chest, silently listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat, one beat after another.

The heartbeat in my ears, following its rapid pace, begins to grow increasingly feeble. A realization dawns on me, and I force myself to lift my head and look at him.

He is akin to a wan rose, wilting before my desperate eyes that seek to make him stay, withering within my outstretched arms as I reach out to hold on.

From limbs to blood, to the light in his eyes— bit by bit, the luster fades.

My king entrusts the future of this country to me, and then he steps out of time, heading toward eternal peace.

I gently incline my body, kissing his peacefully closed eyes.

MC: ...good night.

This time, I don’t receive any response from him, but the snowstorm suddenly ceases.

The curtain of the evening has already descended, and the vermillion sun sinks below the horizon. The final ray of the splendid afterglow thaws the ice and snow of the land.

MC: Victor, I will take you to witness the tomorrow of this kingdom.

──────────

[Notes]:

[5] The exact phrase here actually was “冷风呜呜作响,” which literally means “the chilly breeze is producing a mournful sound”-- the “呜呜” used here is the onomatopoetic word for “sobbing/ wailing.” wanted to include this note as an example to gush about the brilliant atmospheric descriptions LZY writers use, e.g., the picture painted here echoes that even the nature is mourning at this slow, rather unfair, transition, mirroring the heroine’s and LZY’s pain of parting. ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

[6] The expression used here is “依依不舍,” one of my favorite phrases and hated ones to translate LOL. You’d usually see this phrase being translated as “reluctant/unwilling,” but it doesn’t even come close to expressing the depth of its meaning. The phrase means “reluctance to part with sb you love/ being broken-hearted at having to leave,” with an underlying tone of “wanting to be with that person regardless,” -- and I tried to retain the OG meaning without being too wordy haha~

[7] Not sure how much of the sentiment I could make it come across in the translation—the term (留住) MC uses here literally means “ask sb to stay/ keep sb for the night/ ask them to wait.” the beauty of it lies in the fact that it expresses such a multitude of emotions— desperately wanting to keep sb in your life despite knowing it’s not up to either of you so you want to know if they can wait for you even though you know it’s not possible~ ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

[8] Mead (蜂蜜酒), also known as honey wine, is a type of alcoholic beverage made by fermenting honey mixed with water and other fruits. You can google it to know about it in detail if you want LOL.

──────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

#you guys probably already know how I’ve been screaming about this date since release haha.#it actually sits very high in my most favorite date list hahaha. and naturally as much as i wish to go on a screaming parade #- i just don't have the time right now. I'll get back to it later and do a thread on twitter B/C I HAVE SO MANY THINGS TO TALK ABOUT~#MESSIAH ARCHETYPE AT ITS FINEST. GOD FALLING IN LOVE WITH HUMAN TROPE AT ITS FINEST. YOUR NAME IS A SPELL TROPE AT ITS BEST #this date is everything EVERYTHING literally EVERYTHING— JUST UHHH #mlqc victor #mlqc li zeyan #mlqc #mr love victor #mr love queen's choice #恋与制作人 #李泽言 #love and producer #mlqc cn #mlqc spoilers #mlqc translations

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mistypsych · 11 months

Text

ANATOMY OF A CRIMINAL - CHAPTER 3

/ yoongi / suga / agust d /

summary: as a doctor you never expected to be dragged into “the criminal life”, nothing and no one seems to be true anymore, your whole world turns upside down after you save him.

pairings: yoongi mob boss x f.reader x non idol bts members.

warnings: smut, guns, knives, stabbings, blood, gore, murders, drugs, criminals, gang life, medical emergency, illness, abuse, swearing, angst, dubcon, gang violence, corruption, manipulation, lies, cheating - 18+ minors dni.

Note: Hi! This is an attempt of writing a fanfic long after writing anything at all. Please also keep in mind English is no longer my first language and it might be a bit rusty and odd at times but I try my best. The story is a non idol BTS fanfic with Suga being the main character. As promised slowly we are going into the chapters where Yoongi will be taking the main lead. If you want to join the tag list let me know!

After you had your hot bath and a glass of wine that turned into a whole bottle, tiredness of the whole event took over making you pass out on the couch. The fact was you also couldn’t bring yourself to go into the bedroom and fall asleep next to Hobi. You had yet to make sense of everything, but already your gut was telling you that all this new information was going to be a sticky deal. You dreaded that what Jungkook said is fully true and you didn’t know if you could pretend and ignore the facts.

You loved your fiancé with all your heart but could you be ok with him being dirty? Maybe if he had told you, maybe if he would not hide the fact he was entangled with the mafia and gave you a sensible explanation to all of it. You just didn’t know, because one thing you really hated was dishonesty. You could handle a lot of bad shit people have done or were doing as long as you knew about it. Once someone hid the truth from you it was a different story. You always believed the ugliest of truths was better than the prettiest of lies and this was a fucking hill you were willing to die on.

You felt a slight tingle on your cheek. A nice and warm feeling coming after it. Shutting your eyes harder and scrunching your nose you let out a quiet mumble as you felt an ache spread over your muscles. Last nights events surely strained your back. The decision to sleep on the couch did not help that matter as well.

Suddenly you felt a delicate kiss on your neck and then another one. You slowly opened your eyes to see Hobi sitting on the edge and leaning over you. Once your eyes met he gave you his sunshine smile and smoothed your hair back gently saying quietly “Hey. You slept on the couch?” his face had a bit of concern written over it. “Morning…” you croaked, your throat being dry from all the wine you consumed “Yea… I came back really late from that whole medical emergency. I drank some wine and passed out. I also didn’t wanna wake you…”

He hummed slightly soothing your cheek with his hand and grabbing a mug from the small table in-front of you. “Cold brew” he said smiling and passing the cup to you. Lifting yourself on your elbows you gladly drank the coffee, caffeine being exactly what you needed. While downing the brown liquid of life, your brain went back to yesterdays information about your fiancé that has been brutally thrown at you.

Seeing you’ve spaced out, he looked at you asking “You ok Y/N?” you shook your head throwing the intrusive thoughts to the back of your mind. You weren’t ready to confront him. Not yet. Matter of fact you didn’t believe that laying it out just like that would be a smart move. You had to plan it out safely. You could not draw suspicions and give him the option to lie himself out of trouble if what you heard about him would turn out to be true.

“Yes I’m fine.” you said forcing a smile. You had to keep your cool. He was a detective. You could not let him sense out that something was wrong. “I’m still sleepy a bit. Didn’t fully wake up yet” you cooed sitting yourself up completely.

Hoseok looked at you as if he was analyzing what you were saying but then he smiled nodding his head. “Not woken up yet hm?” he moved a bit closer to you, taking the mug out of your hands and setting it aside. You blinked a little raising an eyebrow “I’ve got just the thing to wake you up…” he said with a deep voice, a smirk painting over his lips as he leaned in to kiss your neck.

“Shit…” you thought to yourself as you didn’t think threw what to do if a situation like this occurred. Should you pressure that you are tired and not in the mood? Or should you play along? You actually didn’t know for a fact if Hobi was 100% a dirty cop and you wouldn’t be sure of it for some time. You were stressed out and needed to shut off your panicked mind. Giving in seemed like a really good idea. So once you felt his lips on you did just that.

A suppressed moan rolled out off your mouth as he licked down the skin of your throat. You weren’t aware how much you needed to be touched and just let yourself be careless at this very moment. “Told you I would get your blood flowing.” he groaned grabbing your chin and kissing you hungrily. You leaned your head back opening your mouth allowing his tongue to enter. You could feel him smiling, clearly happy about how you reacted to him.

Soon you were both out of your clothes and catching your racing breaths. Your mind still battling with the fact that Hobi might not be who you thought he was. But as his skillful fingers reached your wet core you decided to forget about it all for now. You pushed him down on the soft cushions and climbed onto him.

“So needy…” he chimed but you put your hands on his toned chest, letting your nails gently scratch over his perfect skin “Yea… so you better fuck me good Hoba!” you let the words fall out from your lips. There was no need to ask him again as you lowered yourself onto his already very hard member, deep moans coming out from both of you.

Grabbing your hips he stared thrusting into you, meeting your needy movements. Your breaths got shaky and uneven. As you bounced yourself to the sound of your bodies connecting you slightly wrapped your hand around his neck. You didn’t know what got into you. You never let yourself get too pushy with Hoseok. He was never really the rough type.

A bit shocked by your action he lifted himself into a sitting position, grabbing your back to make sure you didn’t come off of him. He continued to push deep into you as you moved your hand to his nape, not wanting to let yourself get anymore wild ideas. A knot in the bottom of your belly started to form. You pushed your hips back and forth hard into him seeking your release.

Loud groans and breaths slipping out from your mouthes. This time around all you wanted was to feel the pleasure to crash all over you. It was the only thing that mattered. You didn’t care to get intimate or sensual. You just wanted your mind blown so you could forget everything from that night, at least for a while.

So you kept the tempo, fucking your fiancé hard and fast until you both felt your bodies shaking from the short but strong release. You leaned your forehead on his chest catching your breath and not yet lifting off of him. You could feel him getting soft inside of you. He pushed your hair back from your sweaty face, saying with a slightly amused tone “well someone was in a rush today”.

Finally getting up you smiled with the corner of your lips “I guess I couldn’t wait since we didn’t get to have our fun for a while now…” you lied a bit. Truth be told you just wanted your needs fulfilled as soon as possible, so you didn’t have to be close to him for too long. You knew you were being a bit of a hypocrite, for not being honest with him. But he was the one who decided to hide things from you, so you felt you were allowed to bend the standards a bit.

Your gut was telling you that you couldn’t really trust him, that he was not being open and those facts taunted you. That is why you decided to start weaving a web of lies to shelter yourself. You could feel your morals screaming in your skull. This wasn’t like you. But you were angry, confused and fucking scared. Petrified that you were about to have your life blown up into flames and crumbled. You really had a lot to think threw. The realization that you probably will be facing some extremely hard decisions made anxiety slap you in the face.

* * * * * * * * *

The next days at work passed surprisingly well. You and Jungkook had an unspoken agreement not to bring up what happened. At least for now. Both of you didn’t direct any of the conversations towards that nights events. Luckily you were also pretty busy at the hospital.

You decided to take up extra shifts to the maximum and cover for some of your colleges. This meant you wouldn’t see Hoseok much those days. You knew you were procrastinating, but you needed to set your mind straight before making any meaningful moves and this seemed like the perfect way to do it.

Taking more on calls also meant you would get a couple days off after. You felt those would do you well and that you would then start your questioning of Hobi. Also you thought it would be good to simply go shopping and try to do the down-to earth little things to clear your racing mind and ready yourself for the tasks ahead.

You and Kook also coordinated work with the charities in such a way that you got to have the next week away from them. After all that unraveled, both of you had to fix up and manage some things in your private lives. You suspected Jungkook very much like yourself tried to ignore and push away everything that went down in that forsaken hangar. You could see he was trying hard to maintain your friendship and fix the trust he has thoughtlessly broken. But for the time being you felt other than hospital work, you needed a break from him.

* * * * * * * * *

As the final day of work before your days off passed, you could feel the anxiousness crawl up you skin. You were happy to take time for yourself but it also meant that you should start your head hunt for the truth about your fiancé. To say you were dreading that moment was an understatement. Your mind was already slowly making assessment and plans in case the accusations towards Hoseok were correct. All this shit daunted you.

Even tho you were a bit scared of the confrontation you gladly made your way back home after a long and hard day at work. Once you jumped out of the buss a couple of blocks away from your apartment, a strange feeling washed over you. Shaking it off, you turned around to check your surroundings. Nothing seemed suspicious so you shrugged, thinking it must be the anxiety toying with your tired brain.

As you were about to pass next to the alley of your apartments building, a tall figure walked out in front of you and blocked your way. Your heart dropped as you heard “Good evening doc…”. Namjoon was standing right there and looking down at you with his annoying smirk, that seemed constantly plastered to his face. If you wouldn’t know any better you would’ve surely slapped him, because of how he made your blood boil.

You could hear steps behind you as well. You turned your face to the side, so you could make out with the corner of your eye who it was. You recognized the shorter guy but the other one you did not recall seeing ever before. He was tall like Joon and had a look about him as if he has just stepped out of a GQ magazine.

“Oh wow not only is she talented but also pretty ey?” he spoke in a low, velvety voice. “Knock it off Tae, we are here to take her to the boss, not to romance her!” the low voiced brunette shook his head in disappointment and said “Don’t tell me you wouldn’t wanna find out what those capable hands could do. You know that surgeons have the steadiest of hands? Only imagine…”

You couldn’t take it anymore so you snapped “We also know how to use sharp scalpels!” the man laughed a little and winked at you clearly amused. You tried to walk off saying “And I am surely not going anywhere with your lot, so be so kind and fuck off! You have Jungook!”

You were only able to make a step before Namjoon skillfully grabbed your elbow and painfully yanked it, causing you to hiss. “I wasn’t asking doc, so now you’re gonna shut your pretty little mouth and get in the car!” he whispered angrily in your ear and stared at you warningly. You were sure if you tried something, maybe you would get away but the later consequences could be not worth it.

You ripped your arm from his grip and gave him a side eye while gritting your teeth. Now aware that you better cooperate, altho that didn’t stop the rage from bubbling in you. The fuck was their whole deal? Why did they have to bother you instead of your college. Taehyung opened the back door of the black SUV and moved his hand towards the seats in a welcoming way. If the circumstances were different you’d almost feel like some movie star. But the fact was, you knew you were about to get into deep shit.

Sighing you jumped into the car. “Jimin get in the back with her just in case she tries something” Joon said to the shortest male, who kept quiet until now. He sat next to you, his eyes scanned over you as he said quietly “Soon it will all be behind you. Just don’t make it more difficult than it needs to be…” his voice had a specific ring to it. You just gave him an angry eye roll, barely controlling yourself from telling them to eat shit and die.

Closing your eyes you waited for the drive to be over. You did your best to ignore the men who seemed to not be able to shut their mouths for even a minute. You just wanted it to be done. Go do whatever they wanted you to do and leave. Slowly your mind was starting to wonder towards considering moving back to your home country, especially if Hoseok was to turn out a liar.

Suddenly you heard the doors open and then slam. You jerked up in your seat, the loud sound startling you. Then your door got opened and you saw Tae with a big grin as he said “Let’s go!”. You dragged yourself out of the vehicle and took your medical bag. They were lucky to grab you right after work. Who knows maybe they were smarter than they looked and specifically chose that moment knowing you should have such things on you then.

You followed them inside the hangar. You could feel your back slouching a bit as if to block you from all the panic that was starting to rise from within. Walking into one of the big rooms with creepy walls made of small windows you felt your heart start to beat faster and then you saw him. He was sitting on a wonky looking stool, staring at the screen of his phone.

Once he heard footsteps, he rose his head and looked your way. You weren’t able to see his eyes during your last encounter but now they were piercing threw you in all their glory. They were almost pitch black and dark like his hair. Their gaze seemed cold but also had something extremely calm in it. You could feel a shiver run threw your whole body. He surely had an intimidating vibe about him.

“I wanted to file a complaint…” he said slowly in a raspy voice, while grabbing a cigarette and lighting it up. You raised your eyebrows giving him a dumbfounded look and letting a “Huh?” fall out of your lips. He stared down at his abdomen and then you saw it, the blood trickling threw his white T, that he styled under a Hawaiian looking shirt.

You straightened yourself and cleared your throat, showing you were starting to get ticked off “Well you are sitting here smoking instead of resting and let me take a wild guess, you sure had quite the activities in between?” you seethed threw your teeth. He took a deep puff of his cigarette letting the smoke blow out his nostrils and had an amused little smile come over his lips. “Can’t recall my doctor left any ‘doctors orders’” he hummed.

You could see he was a piece of work so, you mumbled a “Well I am not your doctor. You’re lucky you got to live in the end. You weren’t looking so hot on that table.” he jerked an eyebrow putting out the cigarette and saying “well we are gonna change the you not being my doctor part” after you heard those words, you let a loud, hysterical laugh out and dropped your bag, while clapping your hands and saying “how about FUCKING NEVER IN HELL!”. You were not about to get intimidated by some thugs, your anger went way over the roof at this point.

He sighed getting up and that was when you realized, everybody else had left the room. He walked up to you slowly like you were some sort of prey. You refused to look like a helpless deer in headlights, so you rose your head higher and masked your face with fake confidence. He was taller than you. When he got close, you realized he was a really good looking man. His body was slim and toned. His raven black hair was thick and wavy.

“I don’t recall I was asking…” he said in a very calm tone, that made you even more annoyed, so you shot the next sentence without thinking “Well I don’t care and if you kill me for refusing, you will have police looking at your hands. I don’t think you want that kind of attention…” once you heard what you spat out, you cursed at yourself in your mind.

He let out a deep laugh and shook his head saying “Oh I am well aware who’s girl your are Y/N. You think just because Jung Hoseok is fucking you, it will change the fact how well acquainted I am with the police?” you started, nervously blinking and thinking of what to say next but he cut you off “If I chose to break your pretty little neck, the police would not give one fuck, it would be just another sad accident.” he took a lose strand of your hair and tucked it behind your ear saying “That would be a waste wouldn’t it? And as much as I respect you trying not to get shaken down by a mobster, the reality is your shit outta luck and I don’t think I need to threaten your life to make you understand that?”

You could feel sweat starting to form on your forehead. The way he spoke of these things had you thinking he can make your life difficult. But you decided to try and lay out facts “Well I work in the hospital for your information and not like I would be at your every whim!” he laughed again and said very slowly “You really think that if I can handle the police like a bunch of dogs, a hospital would be a challenge? You really believe that director of yours isn’t mainly money driven?”

He looked at you with an amused gaze and shook his head lightly “But don’t worry your pretty head Y/N. I rarely get hurt and so do my men… and when we do it tends to be at nights and you wont convince me, you mainly work night shifts.” You gave him a glare, the fact he knew your name and other things about you, was bugging you beyond belief. He must have squeezed info out of your friend.

Seeing your irritation he sighed and walked behind you, just to lean over your shoulder and whisper in your ear “Don’t worry I won’t take up your precious time if it won’t be an emergency. Unless you will want me to…” You scoffed taking a step away from him and muttering “Yea for sure!” irony dripped from your voice but he did not seem bothered, if anything he was looking at you confidently as he said “Time will show won’t it? But for now…” he moved his head, showing down to his abdomen and saying calmly “I’d appreciate you handle the work you have already started”.

tags: @wobblewobble822 @nansasa @kooslilhoe @yoongisducky @danielle143 @xjiminsthighsx @nochook @kootieful

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celestialspecial · 7 months

Text

In Cold Blood (pt 1)

Synopsis: A slew of murders have you and the other detectives scratching their heads, but the killer himself seems beyond fascinated with you.

Warnings: This is probably my most warning heavy story- mentions and graphic descriptions of blood/gore, death, murder (serial killer!billy is a giveaway), weapons including gun/knives, home invasion mentions, eventual smut lets just say EVERYTHING IS 18+- read at your own discretion

Tag list: @vermillionwinter , @nerdyreaderpapi

You turned a corner, feet hitting the pavement as fast as they could. Water splashed up from a puddle but it didn’t slow you down. The buzz of traffic didn’t calm your racing heart as you skidded to a stop down a corner alley.

How had this happened? You were so sure of yourself. So careful. At least that’s how it felt.

It had started innocently enough, well maybe innocent wasn’t the correct choice of words.

It had started with the death of a local businessman. He’d been found in an alleyway, shoved between trash bins. Multiple knife wounds scattered across his torso and neck. You’d been called to investigate the scene with the other officers.

It had left your mouth dry, the other officers you worked with were rarely left speechless but this….this did it. The brutality of it was unmatched from anything you’d investigated before.

Then a few weeks later there was a woman found murdered in a similar fashion, body left in Central Park for anyone to find. Then there was another and another. It made your stomach turn.

Then you found yourself volunteering to be on the case. To figure out who the bastard was. Why they were doing this. And to put them away for as long as possible.

The longer you researched and devoted your time and energy to figuring out how to catch the murderer the less it made sense. There was no rhyme or reason or outright motives that stood out to you. Just a building body count.

That’s when you got the first call.

You’d been working from the office late one night, pouring over the latest crumb of evidence you’d been able to scrounge up. A blurry cctv blip of footage capturing a large figure in a black hoodie up over their head leaving the building where the last victim was found.

The noise jolted you from your seat, the blinds drawn in your office and the steady hum of the fluorescent lights overhead wearing away at your eyes. It was late. Very late. No one you knew would be up at this hour. Not unless it was an emergency.

You didn’t recognize the number. So not a friend or relative popping up on caller ID. You let it ring another few times before sighing, with a roll of your eyes and sliding to answer it.

“Hello?”

“Detective Archer.” You felt your body freeze at your name being used. The voice crackled on the other end. Deep. Male. But it was edited somewhat, like he was speaking through some sort of device to conceal his voice.

“Who is this?”

“Ah ah ah that’s on a need to know basis.”

“And I don’t need to know?” You pushed away from your desk standing to walk over to your closed office door. Peeking through the blinds to see the still empty office.

“I’m not in your office if that’s what you think.” Your blood ran cold as you froze in place, fingers just pulling away from the door.

“Are you…watching me?” Your eyes flitted to the windows on the right side of your office, rushing over and drawing the blinds closed.

“Always.”

The word hung on the phone line, heavy silence.

“You’re him.”

“There’s a lot of “hims” out there, I’m going to need you to be more specific.” He was taunting you.

“The killer.” Laughter rang out in the other end.

“It took you a little while there, detective. Here I was thinking you were the top of your class.”

“Why are you calling me?” You moved back to your desk wondering if there was some way you could trace the call from your cell phone.

“To ask what your favorite scary movie is.”

“Fuck off.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“It’s the only one you’re gonna get.”

“Come on Detective, play a little game with me.”

“Is that what you think this is?” You hissed into the phone. “A fuckin game?” Your heart pounded in your chest. Rage bubbling up and leeching into your voice.

“It is to me.”

Then with that the line went dead. You swore, tossing your phone onto your desk falling back into your seat.

Hands scratching your head, fingers twining furiously through your hair. Eyes squeezed shut as you’re cursed once more before calling your boss and the rest of your team to alert them to this new development.

Another victim was found a few weeks later, a single stab wound to the chest right over the heart. A Large Bowie knife was left in the body, with a swath of paper folded and held in place by the weapon.

You talked with witnesses and scribbled into your notes after consulting with another officer before turning on your heel to head back to the office.

Knowing tonight you’d drink a pot of coffee and review how out of character this kill was from the previous victims. Was this even done by the same person? Did you have another murderer out there to watch out for? It made your head spin.

“Detective, I think you need to see this.” A cop named Thomas motioned you over to him holding out the piece of paper just removed from the victim.

You took the now unfolded paper from him eyes roving the page. A large red heart was drawn on it with blood. Whether it was the victims or someone else’s you couldn’t be sure, but that wasn’t the thing that worried you most.

Inside the heart was writing, scratchy red ballpoint pen spelling out in large letters, “Archer.” A gift, a love letter, a taunt, you weren’t sure which one it was but it made your blood run cold.

Hot water poured over your skin in the shower, hoping the scalding heat would strip away the knot in your stomach. Whenever you closed your eyes all you could see was the heart, teasing you.

The paper had been placed in an evidence bag and was now being tested but you couldn’t shake the visual from your head. Turning the water off and reveling in the steam before you wrapped a towel around yourself stepping into the bedroom.

All your scattered notes and random photographs littered your home desk and you were starting to feel pathetic at your lack of purchase on this slippery case. How many people needed to end up dead because you couldn’t do your fucking job?

Then the phone rang. A million thoughts ran through your head before you said fuck it and answered.

“Hello?”

“Did you get my gift?”

“You’re sick you know that?” You flipped on the tracer you’d installed on your phone after your last call.

“Detective, I’m wounded. I gave you a lovely gesture of our relationship.”

“The only relationship we have is going to be when I arrest your ass and put you away for the rest of your life.”

“I love when you flirt back with me.”

You rubbed your brow absentmindedly, hating how limited you felt. How you felt like back in training being ridiculed by higher ups.

“Why are you doing this?”

“I enjoy talking to you, Detective.”

“No. Killing people. Innocent people.”

“Who said they were innocent?”

“Who says you get to be judge, jury and executioner?”

If you stalled long enough it’d give your tracer a better chance of locking onto where the call was coming from. Giving you a shred of further evidence.

“You look very nice tonight.”

Your fist subconsciously gripped your towel tighter to your chest. The curtains in your apartment were drawn, and you had checked the lock over four times out of habit.

“How do you know how I look?” You wedged your phone into the crook of you neck, holding it in place as you reached into the end table pulling out your gun and checking the chamber was full.

“Are you close to catching me, Detective? Have I been occupying as much space in your mind as you do mine?”

You padded slowly down the hall, weapon held firm, pointing into each room as you passed. The heat from the bathroom emanated into the kitchen and you swiveled around the corner poised for an attack.

It never came.

He was toying with you. He wasn’t here.

“Why would I be in your head?”

You heard a thump back in your bedroom and the hair on the back of your neck stood up at the sound. The line was silent as you waited for a response, slowly inching back towards your room, gun held aloft.

The only sound you could hear was your own heart thundering in your chest as you eased into the doorway, ears straining to hear any other movement. In a rush if adrenaline you tossed the phone onto the bed throwing open the closet door.

It was empty.

Keeping with your agitated pace, falling to the floor and checking under the bed only to see it bare as well. Angrily snatching the phone back and biting into the mouthpiece.

“Where the fuck are you?!”

At that you heard footsteps back from the bathroom, thumping through your apartment and your front door being thrown open, the alarm blaring.

Scrambling to catch up you stumbled into your living room and were greeted by the open door leading into the hallway of your apartment complex broken open, the chain lock busted and scraping back and forth as it hung limply.

The line went dead and you immediately dialed 911, waiting for a familiar operator to answer as you relayed your predicament. When you heard confirmation they were on the way you rushed back into the bathroom to grab your robe.

There on the mirror was drawn a heart, like that from the note found on the victim. The condensation beaded up as it bled in various water droplets from the remaining steam from the shower.

The months continued on, all leads turning up nil. The tracer you had used only led you to a discarded burner phone in a trash bin by soho. The murders had briefly slowed down.

The phone calls however had not.

Their length and timing varied but it was always the same voice. Slightly skewed but a man’s voice all the same. It had helped you rule out a female suspect.

The continued goading wasn’t the main thing grating on your nerves. No it would be much simpler if that was it. The true horror was how you began to wait for the calls.

You refused to use the term, enjoy. But they no longer caused your blood to run cold in the same way. One day to your absolute dismay after a long stressful meeting you actually felt your shoulders unclench when your phone rang.

“Long day Archer?”

“How can you ask me that when you’re the source of my stress?”

“Am I?”

Besides the phone calls there was the disturbing hints of affection. A bouquet had appeared at your desk at work one day. No note, but you didn’t need one to know who it was from.

Then a bottle of expensive wine was left on the steps of the precinct with another card bearing only a simplistically drawn heart inside.

The bottle was immediately taken in as evidence and dusted for prints. There obviously were none. No matter what you did he was always ten steps ahead. 5D chess in the most infuriating way.

“How was the wine?”

“If you’re so aware of my every move you’d know I didn’t drink it.”

“Shame, 1913 was supposedly a good year for that merlot.”

“I’m growing tired of our Hannibal Lecter and Clarice dynamic.”

“Who says that’s what we are?”

“WE are nothing.”

A tsk’ing crackled over the line.

“You and I both know that’s not true.”

“Then what are we?”

You put the phone on speaker as you pulled out a container of chinese food leftovers from your fridge. Popping the lid off and shoveling it into a bowl before sliding it into the microwave.

A chuckle came from the other end. You hated how it didn’t feel gross and malicious like it should.

You continued on, mind listing a slew of options as you watched your food rotate in the microwave.

“Phantom and Christine. Michael Myers and Laurie strode. Billy Loomis and Sidney Prescott.”

“You never did tell me your favorite scary movie.”

you sighed dramatically as the oven dinged and you removed your food, returning it to the counter, pulling your hair into a messy bun.

“You do look stunning Detective. I’m shocked someone of your caliber went into law enforcement.”

“I think it’s unfair you know what I look like and yet Ive never seen you before.”

“Nice try Archer.” You couldn’t suppress the small laugh that shook your shoulders a tad.

“It was worth a try.”

Walking into work the next morning you were immediately greeted by another detective, John Lawson. His cheeks were ruddy and he seemed to be out of breath.

“What’s going on?”

“We have a photo of our killer.”

You felt your stomach flip, either from excitement or nerves.

“What?”

He took out a printed sheet of paper, it showed a dim alleyway and a victim from the other night slumped in the background.

Sure enough there in the foreground was a man, in a black hoodie, black pants and military boots. The hood pulled up over his head and underneath the hood a stark white mask, covered in a multitude of scratches and cracks that seemed to be painted on.

He was staring straight at the camera, knife glinting in one hand, the other raised in a mock wave.

“Smug bastard.”

#billy russo #ben barnes #the punisher #billy russo x female reader #billy russo x reader #billy russo fanfic #ben barnes character #the punisher fanfiction #the punisher au #billy russo jigsaw #billy russo x y/n #billy russo x you #serial killer #serial killer!billy x detective!reader #true crime #halloween #halloween fanfic

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sexysapphicshopowner · 8 days

Text

🤎 Context/AU (Alternate Universe): Big news for the dreamgirls!! Aftermath of 'Twenty Foreplay'

🤎 soft!wife!dreamgirl!sevika x wife!dreamgirl!reader

🤎 CW/TW: abuse, violence, death, murder, child sexual abuse, adult language, pregnancy, lesbians, pet names, fluff, angst, abortion attempt, sevika has a tragic backstory, eating disorder, drug use, mentions of alcoholism, sorry if I forgot any, not proofread/edited so excuse any mistakes

🤎 A/N: It's late, I know, life happens. I actually cut it short bc it was starting to get a lot heavier than I wanted and the flow was starting to get a bit sloppy. So have this.

🤎 Notes: Um, I cried while writing most of the flashback parts. I love the dreamgirls.

🤎 Word count: 12.4k

Aromatic wisps of rosemary and sage wafted through the bathroom, the scents intermingling with that of the light and warm, semi-bubbly milk bath your wife had drawn for you when she’d gotten home for the day. You let out a soft sigh, your head barely hanging over the edge as you sunk further into the calming water, trying to let as much stress seep out of you as possible.

Familiar and comforting hands found your shoulders, a kiss being planted on your temple as she spoke, voice barely a rumble over the neo-soul that was playing from the speaker on the sink counter, “How are you feeling, dream girl?”

“Better now that you’re in here,” you hummed as you looked up to her, pressing a kiss to her chin as she massaged your shoulders.

Her laugh was quiet as she ducked lower to press an upside-down kiss to your lips before kissing up the bridge of your nose. The playful little pecks turned reverent as her lips landed back at your forehead, peppering across the area as her hands moved.

Fingers splayed out over your neck and partially your collar as she pressed her thumbs behind your ears, rubbing in circles. You all but melted in her hands, letting your eyes slip closed once more as you enjoyed her touch and kiss.

“Have you started yet? I dropped last night.”

You shook your head, letting out a little sigh, “Not yet, though I wish it would hurry up. These body aches are killing me and if I keep gagging, I’m gonna throw up and that’s gonna make me cry.”

She cooed, thumbs now tracing down, applying a slight pressure as she dragged them along the line of your jaw, “My poor little mama...”

“Why poor me? You’re the one that’s actually on. I should’ve been the one drawing a bath for you when you got home.”

“Sure, but if you never drop then, you know what that means,” she hinted.

You rolled your eyes playfully, humming, “True... we’ll see. I’ll let you know what happens. We both know my cycle is still very off and weird.” “Right, right. Now about this gag-”

“No.”

“You didn’t even let me finish,” she pouted.

“I don’t have to. You were about to ask if it’s too bad for me to suck a lil’ dick. You’re so sick and twisted and completely un-slick, little nasty,” you shook your head, pushing her face playfully.

“Well, you’ve got me there. It was worth a try in my book,” she shrugged.

“Uh-huh. You disgust me.”

“Do I? Do I really,” she asked playfully, as you looked up, leaning your head back just a little further.

You beckoned her closer as you leaned your head back a little further, “Kiss, kiss.”

She happily obliges, leaning down to meet your lips as you stretch up just the tiniest bit. The kiss isn’t long, but it was enough to sate you until you could kiss her properly later. She mumbles against your lips as she pulls away, “I’m so in love with you and everything about you...”

Your breath caught as you looked up at her, finding that same indescribable flame that always burned within her silvery eyes. Somehow the color still hadn’t dulled against the harsh reality of life as a Zaunite. Even more, that loving look in them only seemed to be larger every time you caught her eye.

You were swooning.

It wasn’t until her lips pressed to your forehead that you were pulled out of your reverie, blinking up at her as you turned around in the tub to look up at her properly as you leaned onto your arms, folding them over the edge of the bathtub, “I love you more.”

“Yeah?”

You nodded, beckoning her closer with the crook of a finger, “Uh-huh. C'mere. I’ll show you how much I love you.”

She all but fell back into your lips, sighing into your kiss as it consumed her, your nails raking over her scalp as your fingers slid into her hair, thumbs tracing her jaw just in front of her ears.

In a very uncharacteristic move, she pulled from the embrace before you could even deepen it, huffing, “You can’t kiss me like that, dreamy...”

“Why not?”

She shook her head to clear it, wiping her face, “Because then I’m gonna wanna get into the tub with you, then I’m gonna fuck you and I’m supposed to be focused on doing other things right now.”

“Such as?”

She just chuckled in response before planting a much more chaste kiss to your lips, following it with another to the tip of your nose, the final one touching your forehead as she stood, “What fun would it be if I just told you, mama? I’ll be back in a sec with some sparkling white grape. Just in case I did knock you up, which... not to toot my own dick, but I’m pretty certain I did.”

Your laugh was more of a splutter as you choked on your spit and air at the same time, “For Janna’s sake, Sevi, it’s ‘toot my own horn’. I can’t stand your nasty ass sometimes.”

“Then it’s a wonderful thing you’re in the tub right now, isn’t it?”

“Girl- just hurry up, I want cuddles when I get out of here.”

She blew you a final kiss from the doorway before disappearing into the rest of the house to do whatever it was she was hiding from you. As promised, she’d come back with the sparkling juice, to which you accepted gratefully with a little kiss before sinking back into your bath, lazily holding the champagne flute over the side of the tub as you sipped on the drink idly.

Sevika doesn’t like men.

All the men out there who’ve ever wanted to fuck her can thank her father for the aversion.

You see, when your childhood consists of being pimped out to strange men to pay your alcoholic father’s gambling debts, constantly getting into street fights, and then getting your ass handed to you once you get home- you don’t have much time to really discover yourself.

Maybe in a different universe- one where Sevika wasn’t born in Zaun... where her father wasn’t abusive... where she wasn’t sex trafficked by the very man that was meant to protect her... she might’ve been attracted to men.

But this wasn’t that universe.

Her fear of relationships with men quickly grew into an outright disgust of them.

And then it got worse.

For Sevika, it started with the vomiting.

For probably all the ladies living up Topside, the first sign would’ve been a missed period. Thanks to life in the Lanes, however, Sevika was pretty used to her period not coming at all sometimes. It never came with a baby before though.

She’d been dancing the line of unknown pregnancy scares since she was 11. Now she was 21, still under the thumb of her father, and even worse- pregnant.

It wasn’t long before you were wrapped in a fluffy robe, feet slid into your house slippers as Sev guided you into the kitchen with her hands over your eyes under the guise of ‘driving you’ to her secret little surprise.

You stumbled a bit and she took a little pause, “You okay?”

“I smell food.”

Her chuckle was hearty and you could almost hear the head shake that accompanied her words, “I’m sure you do. Almost there, dream girl.”

Her hands were removed from your eyes without warning and allowed your eyes to adjust as she leaned her face over your shoulder, hands coming down to their usual home base of your waist as you took in the ambient, candlelit dinner she’d put together for you guys, “Sev...”

She shook her head before you could continue, “Yes, I’m on my period and that’s your favorite time to spoil me, but I wanted to treat my wife.”

You poked your lip out as you turned your head to look at her, “Sev...”

She giggled, peppering the side of your face with kisses, “Don’t cry, mama... it’s just dinner. I can’t even cook like you.”

You sniffled, fanning your eyes, “Shut it, my emotions are just everywhere right now. It’s not about your cooking skills, even though we both know I’ve taught you well... It’s about the gesture, and you know it.”

She nodded, lips now at your shoulder, “I know... hope you love it.”

“Of course, I love it... I love you...” you mumbled, holding a hand against her cheek.

“Alright, alright, sit and eat,” she prompted, pulling your chair out with her foot. Before you could protest as she sat you down, she pressed several kisses to your face, “And I love you too. Never forget it.”

You had a stupid smile on your face throughout the entirety of dinner.

Emetophobia.

The fear of vomiting or seeing others being sick.

Sevika had experienced her father’s violent reactions to her throwing up before.

The first time was when she was 6.

It was a particularly bad winter in Zaun. The smog was thicker, the cold seemed to seep into the very core of the Lanes.

She’d been battling the sniffles and a nasty fever for days, all the while still being forced to ‘put herself to use’ by her father.

Then it got worse.

Then she began to throw up.

At first, she hid it well. She’d swallow it down when she couldn’t get out of his sight. When she could, she’d always go out to an alley, ducking and weaving through bodies of what the little girl only hoped was just drunkards and junkies who’d passed out on a bender rather than what a six-year-old Sevika knew in her heart were either already dead or close to it.

Up until this point, the extent of physical abuse coming directly from her father was a slap across the face or being picked up by the front of her shirt and shaken around.

Then she brought him breakfast and didn’t make it out of his room fast enough to go puke out back.

That was the catalyst for the abuses that would be-fall her for the next few decades of her life.

Throw up tastes disgusting.

It tastes even worse going back down after being licked up off your father’s grimy boots.

Even worse, the feeling of wanting to re-release those fluids again when you were forced to lick those same boots clean until they were no longer grimy.

Sevika trained herself to hold her throw up in after that.

Your music from the bathroom was moved to one of the counters in the kitchen, incense burning in the holder as you and Sevika cuddled up into each other, you perched up on her lap with the two of you picking from the same plate in between soft kisses and intimate looks.

It was just you and your wife, enjoying the presence and company of one another in the midst of the meal she’d prepared.

You leaned back against her chest, letting out a happy sigh, “You know... I’m so proud of you for this.”

“Yeah,” she asked softly. The softness of her voice, the genuine question in that one word was so cute. You turned in her lap, sitting sideways atop her, cupping her cheek in a hand as you smiled warmly, pressing a kiss to the bridge of her nose.

You kept your voice at the same level of hers as you responded, “Of course, I’m proud, baby. You pan fried the rice properly and everything. I’m so very proud to see you picking up cooking a little more.”

Your heart broke a little at the tears that glossed over her silver orbs as she looked up at you, “Really? You mean it?”

“Yes, baby, I mean it. What’s wrong,” you cooed, bringing your other hand to her cheek to stroke both of them with your thumbs, “Talk to me, baby.”

She shrugged, looking away, “I dunno... I just... I feel like I’ve been struggling to eat lately. Like I’ve been having to force myself to eat so I just... I wasn’t sure if I was in the right headspace to be cooking tonight, but I wanted to treat you, you know?”

“Sev...” you began.

“Don’t... it’s okay, doll. I’ll-”

“Sevika,” you stopped her, keeping her face turned to yours as you moved again, this time to straddle her, “Will you look at me? Please?”

She shook her head in your gentle grip, tears beginning to well, threatening to spill over as she fought hard to blink them back, “I can’t...”

“And why not?”

“I don’t want to see you disappointed in me...” she whispered, voice barely the ghost of a whisper. It was the smallest you’d heard her voice in a while. The last time was... you softened, further, bringing your voice to a warmer tone.

“I’m not disappointed in you, baby. And I never could be, especially not for something like that. I’m actually proud of you. Very proud that instead of shutting down, you’re talking about it. I know how hard that is for you, especially when it comes to your eating. So with that being said, will you please look at me?”

Watery eyes met yours as she nibbled the inside of her cheek, whispering, “Promise?”

“Of course, baby. I promise, I’m not disappointed.”

She took a shuddery, breath, closing her eyes as she leaned her forehead against your chest, “I love you...”

You pressed a kiss into her hair, rubbing her back, “I love you too, baby. You wanna try and eat a little something more for me? Or do you just wanna talk? What did you eat today?”

“Um.... I had a few bites of the lunch you made me, but then I.... let Ran eat the rest... I’m sorry...”

“Baby, you don’t have to keep apologizing. Can you at least drink some water and eat a little something? Just a couple of bites?” She whined and you let out a little sigh, running your fingers through her hair, “Have you smoked yet?”

“Mhm.”

“Didn’t help?”

“No.”

“Okay... You’ll try again later?”

“Sure.”

“If you can’t that’s fine, but you gotta promise me you’ll try and eat well tomorrow, okay?”

“I promise...”

A plaintive silence fell over the two of you. It wasn’t uncomfortable, just... somber. You didn’t comment when she began to pick a few bites off the plate again, simply smiling that she was getting some form of food in her, even if it wasn’t a lot.

At some point, Sevika had stopped eating, hands gripping at your waist, hips and thighs as she pressed kisses along the line of your neck and shoulder. Her hands strayed to your stomach as she mumbled, “Hey, mama?”

“Yes, my love?”

She chuckled as you stuffed your face with food, wiping some from your cheek, “What if I really did knock you up in one try?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised. I mean, how many times did you nut in me? And we were both ovulating around that time too. It was like perfectly timed for us to actually end up with a baby.”

She didn’t say anything else for a few moments, and you went right back to eating before she rested her chin on your shoulder, tracing your side with her mechanic hand, “You make me want a family...”

“Yeah?”

She nodded, “Yeah... even with life down here... the work that I do... you make me wanna have something to leave behind... a little family that’s like... a legacy of our love. Like, yes, I wanna be a mother and give our kids the things that I never had, but I also want people to see our kids and know that those are our kids. Like... they know that our kids have two loving moms that are actively in love.”

You let out a little giggle, turning to the side in her lap to wrap your arms around her neck, pressing a kiss to her cheek as you held her other one, stroking your thumb over her cheekbone, “You’re so cute... I love you, and I would love to have your babies, and I know what you’re trying to say, I promise.”

She relaxed, letting out a sigh of relief as she leaned into your hand on her face, “Thank Janna, I thought I was just rambling stupidly.”

You shook your head, pressing more kisses to her face and lips, “No, I understood you perfectly.”

“Have I told you how much I love you today?”

You giggled, nodding, “Yeah, a little bit. You always remind me that I’m loved... it’s why I married you.”

“Really?”

“Of course. Baby, you told me you loved me within our first four dates. It was so cute because you were still learning to navigate love and healthy relationships... we both were, and still are, but here I had the big, scary lady of Zaun and she was looking at me like a puppy and telling me that she thought she was falling in love with me. I think that was the moment when I truly felt like I had found my person in you. And well... the rest is really history. By the time you asked me to marry you, I couldn’t say anything but yes.”

She had idly reached for her wedding band that she always wore on a chain around her neck, fiddling with it as she looked up at you in her lap, “You never once like... entertained saying no? Or maybe waiting a little longer?”

“Never. I knew when I met you that I had to snatch you up and it was just my luck that you seemed to have the same thought process when it came to me. I love you. And that’s not changing. So yes, I mean it when I say I wanna have your children, or that I love you more than anything, or that I’d do anything you asked of me because you’re... you’re everything to me, Sev... and I know that when it comes to us talking about kids it’s hard for you... but you’ve given me so much and I wanna give you the same thing in return. If given the chance, I wouldn’t change a thing about our relationship... well...”

Her eyes snapped up to you from her ring as worry laced through her features, “Well?”

You snickered, placing a gentle kiss to the bridge of her nose, “If I could go back, I would make sure I’d asked you to marry me before you could ask me.”

“You’re so,” she rolled her eyes, unable to hide her smile as you shut her up with another little kiss. She pulled you further into her lap with a happy little sigh, “I love you, dream girl.”

You leaned into her, resting your head on her shoulder as you wrapped an arm around her, your other hand coming up to her chest, fingernail tracing along her collarbone, “I love you too.”

“Done eating?”

You nodded, patting your stomach, “May or may not be a baby-baby in here, but there’s definitely a food baby in here.”

The way she perked up almost like a little kid was too cute as she asked, “I did good?”

The sated and full sigh you let out was all the answer she really needed, but you furthered it as you spoke, “Fuck yes...”

She rubbed your back with one hand, her other one grabbing hold of your hand to kiss each of your fingertips, “You’re so cute. It wasn’t even all that, mama.”

“Uh-huh, it was gourmet. My compliments to the chef.”

She raised a brow, voice full of ulterior motives and that all-too-familiar lilt as she muttered, “If you weren’t clearly about to fall asleep, I would ask for some better compliments, you know.”

You quirked a brow sleepily, looking up at her through low and hooded eyes, “Huh?”

“Alright, c’mon. To bed with you,” she prodded, adjusting her hold on you to pick you up with your legs wrapped around her waist.

You instinctively looped your arms around her neck, pressing a few kisses to it as you hummed, “I love you.”

“So I’ve noticed. I love you too.”

“I love you.”

She chuckled, “I love you too, baby.”

“I love you.”

She used her foot to push open the door to your shared bedroom, nodding as she used her foot to close the door once more, “Uh-huh, I love you too, dreamy. What’s up?”

You shrugged as she sat down on the edge of the bed with you in her lap again, “Just feel like I haven’t said it enough today, you were at work all day, baby. Gotta reach our quota.”

“We have a quota?”

“Mhm,” you nodded against her shoulder, eyes closed as you planted lazy kisses against whatever skin was closest to you.

Her breath hitched in her throat and she assumed a firmer grip on your hip as she hummed, “And what exactly would that number be?”

“We say ‘I love you’ at least 76 times a day. And we kiss at least 280 times.”

She chuckled, hand stroking along your hip and thigh as she nodded, “And where did you get these numbers from? Your ass?”

“I’ve always counted.”

That shut her up before she asked her next question a few moments later, “Are these exact numbers?”

“An average. I did say ‘at least’.”

“Huh.... you’re gay.”

“Okay, but you married me so what does that say about you?”

“That I did.” She turned to press a kiss to your forehead, just below your hairline before resting her head against yours, “I love you, dream girl.”

You melted in her arms, nuzzling into the crook of her neck as you tightened your hold around her waist, “I love you...”

“I love you,” she called again with a soft lilt in her tone as her thumb traced circles at the side of your hip.

A heavy blush was creeping up from your chest, your skin growing warm as you let out a shaky breath, “I love you...”

“You okay?”

“Uh-huh...”

“Words, mama.” You huffed and she shook her head, “No, ma’am. Talk to me. You goin’ to sleep on me?”

“No.”

“No?”

You shook your head against her, “Mh-mh.”

She just chuckled, rubbing your back with one hand as she cradled the back of your head with the other, pressing kisses into your hair, “Whatever you say, mama.”

Sevika’s pregnancy scares were probably a lot more than she realized, but with little actual knowledge of her body, and the compounding factor of probably the world’s most irregular cycle, she spent the majority of her tween, teen, and young adult years none the wiser to any of the times where her body was seemingly contemplating the creation of a child.

Until it started.

At first, it was just a random nausea spell here and there.

Then the nausea grew constant, the smallest smells setting her off with this horrible gagging.

And then she threw up.

All she could think of was what she was supposed to do when her father found out. No, no... he couldn’t find out.

Flashbacks of that day when she was 6 have been haunting her since the first day of nausea. The intensity all but doubled when she woke up running for the toilet.

Terrified didn’t even begin to cover the amalgamation of emotions Sevika was feeling when she realized what was going on with her.

She thrust herself into ‘working’. Unsure of how far along she was and unable to actually find out, she decided to swallow down her daily morning sickness whenever it cropped up if she could, and when she couldn’t, she was straight to the nearest toilet.

That didn’t stop her father from finding out.

Sevika was sat on the bathroom floor, groaning under her breath after being unable to force herself to swallow her vomit back down. She was too weak and out of it to scramble and get herself together.

If it wasn’t bad enough that she’d thrown up- didn't even get the chance to flush the toilet yet- her lack of reaction to his presence only further incensed the already drunk and irate man that called himself her father.

It was a shitshow.

Sevika was hemmed up by the collar of her shirt, his fist shaking as he barked in her face, questioning if this was why she’d been ‘underperforming’ lately. Too stunned to speak and reeling from the sudden yanking up from the floor, she sputtered, dizzy with a pounding headache as she tried to form a response.

The more she floundered to actually engage with him, the more angry and downright belligerent he became.

As always, he didn’t see his daughter, shaking under his grip of her collar.

No, he saw the extra mouth he’d been having to feed.

He saw the reason his wife was dead.

He saw red.

By the time Sevika found her words to even begin attempting to answer his barrage of questions and demands, his fist was already connecting with her face, his grip on her shirt the only thing saving her from ending up sprawled on the bathroom floor.

It was going to be a beating for the books.

You didn’t even realize it when she’d laid you down in the bed on the pillows, tucking you in, until she was sliding into bed next to you, wrapping her arms around you from behind with a kiss to the back of your shoulder, “Hm?”

She shook her head, reaching a hand into your robe to hold one of your breasts as another kiss was planted to the side of your neck, “Go to sleep, mama. I just had to go get out of my work clothes.”

You let out a little groan, turning in her arms to nestle into her, your face tucked under her chin as you mumbled, “Hmmm... g’night.... love you...”

With a little chuckle she pressed kisses into your hair, rubbing your lower back as she whispered against you, “Good night, my love. Sleep well.”

You didn’t sleep very well at all.

Along with the aches and random pains in weird places in your body- a tugging in your lower abdomen that also had a random stabbing along with it, back pain, an almost constant headache, and just a general discomfort and ache in your body- you also had this constant metal taste that was like having a mouthful of rusty change in your mouth at all times.

You were constantly waking up throughout the night from the discomfort, the violent urge to brush your teeth to purge your mouth of the vile metallic tang plaguing you. This, compounded with your incessant gagging, had you growing nauseous with the mere thought of your toothbrush starting to make you want to dry-heave.

You were presently standing over the sink, tears in your eyes as you tried to prepare yourself to gargle some mouthwash after having thrown up for about the fifth time since you woke up in the middle of the night.

Sevika, ever the stony sleeper, had no idea until she rolled over, finding your cold spot in the bed next to her. She groaned, calling out in a sleep-filled voice, “Baby, what’re you doin’? Come back so we can cuddle...”

You huffed, gripping onto the counter of the bathroom sink, fighting the urge to dry-heave again, “I’ll be back in a second....”

You could hear her trudging footsteps coming closer to the bathroom until she was coming up behind you, rubbing your back and pulling hair out of your face, concern and sleep both written on her features, “What’s wrong, baby?”

“I just.... I’m fine, I’ll be fine,” you shook your head, pushing her hand away before grabbing the capful of mouthwash.

“You can’t lie to me, dream girl. You’re crying, you’re pale... you look like shit and you’re supposed to be asleep right now. Talk to me.”

“I’m in pain, gagging now has nausea with it, I just threw up, so now I gotta wash that out of my mouth, but that’s still not going to get rid of this fucking taste in my mouth and I just-”

“Hey,” she moved to stand right in front of you, hands on your arms as she rubbed them to try and calm you back down, “Avalanche, you’re spiraling, dreamy. Take a deep breath with me and we’ll go sit down and talk, okay?”

You nodded as you looked up at her, taking a shaky but somewhat deep breath along with her as she nodded along, continuing to rub your arms with her thumbs tracing circles.

You let out a hiccup when you went to exhale and the second the tears started to brew again, she shook her head, “No, no, eyes on me... You’re safe... you’re okay, I promise. I’m here. You are okay, you’re doing so well, my love. Let’s try again, okay? Deep breaths.”

It took a few more tries before you finally relaxed in her hold, wrapping your arms around her. She brought one hand up to play in your hair, the pads of her fingers rubbing your scalp as her claws on her mech hand trailed lightly up and down your back.

She ended up taking you to the kitchen, sitting you down as she made you a glass of water with two and a half ice cubes- just the way you liked it after an episode like that, holding your free hand and kissing your knuckles and fingertips as you drank with your other hand.

When you sat the glass down, she stepped between your legs, still stroking her thumb over the back of your knuckles, “Whenever you’re ready, we’ll talk. If you don’t wanna talk, we can go back to sleep. If you want a distraction, we can watch something, or I could read you something. Just let me know, okay?”

You nodded, reaching up with your other arm for her to come closer. She pressed a kiss to your cheek before leaning into the embrace, wrapping you up in her arms. The two of you remained that way for a few quiet moments until you looked up at her with a sniffle, your chin on her chest, “Sev?”

“Yes, dreamy?”

“Can you read to me in bed?”

“Absolutely, baby. Do you wanna stay with me while I grab a book or go get comfy?” You held onto her tighter and she nodded, stroking your hair, “Alright, I got you.” She moved so that she could give you a piggyback while she grabbed a book. She ran her finger over the titles, moving on to the next one when you let out a little ‘mh-mh’ sound at each one until giving a nod when she got to a book you wanted to hear.

Once you were both back in bed, Sevika sat up against the headboard with you lying on your stomach between her legs curled up into her chest, she started reading the book, her voice still rather raspy from sleep. She held the book in one hand, her other one up at your face, stroking your cheek with the back of her fingers and only moving to flip the page.

Eventually, you closed your eyes, enjoying the vibrations of her voice in her chest beneath your head and the feel of her fingers on your face. Unconsciously, you took hold of her hand, fiddling with her fingers. She paused in her reading to check in, “You okay?”

“My mouth feels empty,” you lamented softly, the traces of whining laced in your voice.

She kissed your temple, “You’ve got my fingers, mama. Do you want me to keep reading?”

Sevika was no stranger to your occasional bouts like this. You hadn’t had a panic attack like that in a while, but usually when you did, you came out of them feeling very subby, not saying much, and your oral fixation would kick up, usually leading you to say things like ‘my mouth feels empty’.

You nodded in response to her question as you closed your eyes again, softly sucking and gnawing on her index finger. She smiled as your breathing evened out, setting the book aside as she pulled the covers over you both, allowing you to keep her finger before she picked the book back up.

A little groan left you as you took one more finger into your mouth, shifting atop her with your right arm wrapped around her. She shushed you softly, pressing a kiss to your hair, “I’m right here, dream girl... I’ll never let you go... promise...”

First, he punched.

Blow after blow into her face.

To this day, Sevika still has the slightest taste of blood that crops up in her mouth for no apparent reason from time to time.

It was clear that he was just making himself angrier with each hit, the strikes growing more violent and frenzied the more he spoke, barking at her about bringing another unwanted mouth into the household, about how she was still going to have to work. How could she be so foolish as to allow something like this? Half of his yelling barely made any sense but one thing was clear- he was saying that she’d gotten pregnant on purpose, trying to get out of pulling her weight around here.

His grip started to shake on her collar until he’d thrown her to the floor, too lazy to bend over and keep using his hands, so here came the infamous worker’s boots, smashing into her stomach and chest with seemingly reckless abandon- yet somehow still managing a concentration of kicks to her stomach. Sevika curled in on herself slightly, instinctively going to guard her stomach which left her chest open.

There was a sick crunch with each kick there, blood bubbling up out of her mouth as her body was wracked with coughs, the blood spattering across the floor with each one. Her father stopped for a few moments, leaning against the wall to catch his breath as he wheezed.

"You... are fuckin'.... pathetic..." he huffed, turning back around to prod her face with his foot.

He spat down at her as she lay there, voice gruff as he all but growled, “Get the fuck up.”

Sevika was already weak when he came in, having been throwing up essentially all morning before he'd come in to find her when he got home. It hurt to even breathe, ribs threatening to puncture her lungs with every shallow breath she managed, let alone for her to actually get up off the floor.

She didn’t move.

He gave her a shove with his foot, pushing her onto her back as his voice got louder, “Did you not hear me, bitch? Get the fuck up!”

Tears brewed at the back of her eyes. She always says the back because she learned early on not to cry. He hated that almost more than he hated her.

With a great amount of effort, she rolled onto her side, then her stomach before bracing her hands against the floor to push herself up, low grunts and huffs escaping her the whole way.

She barely got a few inches off the floor before he used his foot once again to kick her, knocking her back down, “Get up.”

It was getting harder to hold those tears.

She wasn’t foolish enough to hope that actually ending up pregnant would change things. She never hoped for anything. But some subconscious part of her did. While she had no plans on keeping the child, not that her father would let her anyway, something deep within her secretly wanted to.

Her arms were wobbly, weak as she started to push up again. Each time she started to get up as he was demanding, he’d kick up under her, right into her stomach.

She knew what he was doing.

She didn’t want to lose the baby.

Not like this.

But she couldn’t do anything.

For years after his death, she berated herself for not killing him sooner.

After all if she had...

To say you had a disgusting cocktail of things seemingly going wrong with you would’ve been an understatement.

You were locked in an almost unending cycle of sorts. First, you’d feel so nauseous it was almost like you were seasick. Then you’d throw up, which meant you had to brush your teeth after, lest the unceasing metallic taste be joined by vomit, which meant more gagging and possible throwing up. Then to make you feel even worse, now your gums were bleeding.

And there was the pains.

Sevika could barely keep up, but she was doing her best. She went into work less often, explaining the situation to Silco. When she did go in, he kept her for shorter hours, having her back home to you before afternoon.

You guys were still awaiting your now questionably late period when you called from the bathroom one morning, “Baby?”

“Yes, mama?”

“Can you bring me a liner from the closet?”

“You dropped?”

“I think?”

She entered the room with a liner in one hand and fresh panties in the other, “You think?”

“It’s never been this light before. It’s not spotting, but it’s not my usual first day either,” you explained, letting her see the red and brown that now stained the panties you were wearing initially before you tossed them across the bathroom and into the hamper, taking the fresh ones and the liner from her with a soft ‘thank you’ as you changed.

She leaned against the sink, clearly studying you, trying to rack her brain for any sort of explanation.

“This just started?”

“Yeah?”

“Hm.”

“What are you thinking about over there? I’m not dying, am I?”

She looked at you like she could kill you before whatever this was did, “Don’t talk like that. I’m just trying to make sense of this. Perhaps we should visit your mom...”

The last line was muttered more to herself, but you responded all the same. Your mother was a doctor. More than that, she was a pretty damn good one, and she specialized in childbirth and care. She’d helped numerous women through what could’ve otherwise been fatal pregnancies, not to mention you come from a very... fertile line of women.

“Would that make you feel better if I did?”

She nodded immediately, “Yes, please. If anyone will know what’s going on with you, it’s definitely her.”

“You know that’s a six-day trip, right?”

“Don’t care. I’ll work something out with Silco if need be, but I need to know what’s going on with my girl. Start packing when you get out of here, I’ll be back in 45, okay?”

You huffed, grumbling to yourself, “Watch it just be somethin’ stupid."

“Nothing’s stupid when it comes to you, dream girl. Don’t make me fuck a reminder into you when I get back.”

“You’re leavin’ without my kisses? Do y’even love me anymore,” you wailed dramatically.

You could almost sense her playful eye-roll as you heard her steps clunking back toward your shared bedroom. She bent down to meet you as you placed the liner into your new panties, pressing two kisses to your lips, “Happy now?”

“No,” you pouted, your bottom lip poked out as you looked up at her sadly.

She stooped down to your level, face softening, “What’s wrong, my love?”

“You only gave me two kisses....” you whined, dead serious.

Her face fell and she pushed your knee, “Don’t scare me like that, I thought something was really wrong, dreamy. Mmmmwah, better?”

You couldn’t help the giggle that escaped you as she planted a very audible kiss on your lips, nodding, “Yes, thank you. And insufficient kisses it very much serious business.”

“Yeah, when it’s you depriving me, not the other way around. Hurry and get ready, okay? The sooner we figure out what’s going on with you, the better.”

“I know, I know. I’ll be fine. Go talk your way into going with me,” you waved her on, getting up from the toilet as you flushed with one hand, turning the sink on with the other to wash your hands.

She got maybe three steps away from the door before she was back in the bathroom, tugging your face to hers for a searing- almost teasing- kiss as she muttered before pulling away, “I love you, lock the doors and windows, I’ll be back soon, okay?”

Despite already missing her presence with her standing right in front of you, you managed a smile, pecking her lips once more, “Hurry, Sevi. The longer it takes you to leave, the longer I have to be here by myself.”

“Say it back first,” she mumbled against your lips, the two of you still trading kisses back and forth.

You pressed a lengthier kiss to her lips, looking up at her with a whisper, “I love you...”

She tilted her head to rest her forehead against yours, closing her eyes, “I’ll be back, okay?”

“Sev-”

“I’m fine. I’ll be back.”

She quickly suppressed the brewing tears, heading to go ask Silco for some time off to make the trip.

Sevika spent that night on the bathroom floor, bloodied and bruised, still coughing up blood periodically as she cradled her stomach, praying to whoever was out there that she didn’t die on that floor.

She didn’t die.

Even more, neither did her baby.

Sevika wasn’t excited.

She wasn’t happy to be bringing this life into the world.

Sevika was petrified about the mere idea of it all.

If she kept the baby, there was the chance her father would kill the baby, or worse, the baby would end up being abused just as she was. She couldn’t have that happen.

But did she truly want to give it away?

If the baby was lucky, it would end up being sent topside to Piltover. It’d be safe there as much as she hated to think about her child ending up being a topsider.

But more likely than not, the kid would end up just in the system. Sent off from home to home around the Lanes. Or even worse, the kid could end up being one of the many orphans on the street.

Sevika didn’t know what she wanted. Or what she would do.

To make matters worse, her father acted as if she weren’t even pregnant in the first place.

She was still working, now having to do even more ‘work’ to make up for the “lackluster performance” from the week she first found out she was pregnant. She was also working at home again, something she hadn’t done much since she’d become an adult.

It took months for her to begin showing, and by the time she had, it was almost as if her father intended for her to keep the baby. The physical abuse was now reduced to the occasional slap or hair snatch here and there, and though the verbal and emotional abuse intensified in its place, he’d begun seemingly making room for the new addition.

He was by no means happy about the prospect of his daughter having a child. But the way he saw it, that was another worker to bring money in to fund his drinking, gambling, and other vices.

The way Sevika saw it? She'd rather die than let her child go through the same things she did. Whether this was something she wanted or not, she knew that if she had to have this child, she’d protect it with her life.

It’s nowhere near the first time you’ve had to make this trip to see your mom. 6 days there, 6 days back.

The majority of your journey is spent with your symptoms playing a twisted game of roulette, alternating between which ones will be your biggest issue that day.

You’re a constant mess of tears, throwing up, gagging, whining, and for the life of you, you cannot stop peeing, only to end up releasing barely a trickle if even a few drops.

You’re tired.

Sevika is also tired.

Your wife wasn’t much of a caregiver when the two of you met. She wasn’t the worst, but it was clear that she was still very much learning. By now she's got it pretty much mastered.

She’s been holding you through everything, offering up massages, cuddles, and her fingers whenever you’re starting to get too overwhelmed by all the different compounding symptoms of what’s looking more and more like a pregnancy.

That’s when the nosebleeds started.

You’ve never had a nosebleed before. Aside from getting your nose broken that one time, you’d only ever dealt with Sevika’s nosebleeds that she gets during the winter from her nostrils drying out. But you? Never had it happen.

However, you knew what it meant.

It ran in the family. Bloody noses and sensitive- sometimes bleeding- gums were some of the earliest pregnancy symptoms within your family. If you didn’t know based on your other symptoms, all other weird yet slightly common symptoms of pregnancy, you definitely knew now.

You were both in your hotel room, the last stop before the final half-day stretch that would get you to your mother’s house, your back to her front as she trailed her fingers over your stomach, muttering affirmations and praises under her breath at how good you’d been holding up when you felt what you thought was your nose running.

You reached up to swipe at your nose with a sniff, pulling your sleeve away to find red now smeared across it, “Oh no...”

She sat up with you, eyes going wide, “Baby?”

You held your nose, pinching the bottom of your nostrils as you cupped your other hand under your chin, holding your head forward while running to the bathroom.

It’s not an overwhelming amount of blood. You’ve seen Sevika come home with much worse from particularly bloody brawls at The Last Drop for sure. But to your wife? You may as well be dying.

Sev is right on your heels, a face towel in her hands already being run under some warm tap water as she pulls you in front of her, taking hold of your chin with her mech hand and assessing the situation as she cleans your face with the towel in her other one.

“This isn’t normal.... d’you think we can leave tonight? Get a jump on some answers? I’m worried about you.”

“Baby, it’s just a nosebleed. I won’t bleed out by morning. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

She shakes her head, turning your face side-to-side face for signs of any bruising or other things that may be outwardly wrong with you. When she finds none, she starts to gently prod at your nose with a finger, pushing against the bridge and around, “You don’t get it, dreamy. You don’t get nosebleeds. I get those like an orphan gets the cold and flu. Not you... I don’t know a single person in the Lanes who’s just never had a nosebleed like you... I’m scared.”

While you were now very certain about being pregnant, you wanted to wait to tell her, so you simply took hold of her arms- standard panic protocol between the two of you- as you spoke gently, “Baby, there’s a lot of things going on with me that just aren’t normal for me, but that’s why we’re on this trip. We’ll get answers in the morning, okay? Breathe for me, deep breaths.”

Sevika’s barrage of questions and worries fizzle out on her tongue as she locks in with you, mumbling a small, “Avalanche,” as she takes a deep breath in time with your own.

“There we go, my love. What can I do for you to make you feel a bit better right now? If you wanna get back on the road, we can. Or we can go cuddle and I’ll braid your hair. Or we can watch our show. Whenever you’re ready, just let me know, okay?”

She closed her eyes as she took a final breath, opening them once she blew it back out, “Can you braid my hair and we watch our show?”

“Of course, baby. Come on, relax time. If my nose bleeds again tonight, we’ll get up and head on immediately.”

The two of you ended up back in bed, Sevika’s head in your lap as you gave her a few braids to pull back into two little pigtails in place of her usual half pony, you guys’ show playing in the background of her giving you updates on the things she’s gotta do for Silco when you two return back home.

“And then he was literally all whiny talking about how he needs me to come in at some point when we get back so I can go head up the factory and take stock.”

You snickered, pulling a hair tie around her first little pigtail, “We need to get this man a calculator class or something. Oh, remind me it’s time for a trim when we get home, your undercut is practically long enough for me to braid it too.”

She rolled her eyes, rolling over in your lap to face you so you could do the other side of her hair, “Oh hush, it’s not that long.”

“Nah, I’m just being extra.”

“I love you...”

“I love you too.”

She squeezed her eyes closed, gritting her teeth, “I love you...”

You noticed the tense in her jaw, voice softening, “I love you more, baby.”

“Avalanche,” she said meekly, fist gripping your shirt.

You set your comb aside, pulling her up and into your arms as you wrapped your legs around her, allowing her to bury her face in your chest. Slowly rocking side to side, you stroked her hair with one hand, holding her tightly with your other arm as you pressed kisses to her temple and along her hairline, “I got you, Vika.... I’ll never let you go.... never leave... You’re safe... I love you... I’m always going to love you... nothing you do will change that... We’ve been married for so long now... We’re planning babies... We’re still gonna get our homestead... And you can have your animals... I’ll have my fruits and veggies... Me ‘n you, baby...”

You kept whispering little reassurances, reminding her about you guys’ life plan, the things the two of you have already accomplished together, the ones still to come, all while rocking her and playing in her hair. She was holding onto you for dear life. You’d been waiting for it to hit her again, knowing what time of year it was.

When her breathing evened out and her grip on you relaxed just the tiniest bit, you pulled back slightly, cleaning the crust from her eyes with your shirt before pulling the article off, tossing it to the floor. You finished her cute little pigtails while she slept, pausing to press a kiss to her nose every time she started to stir a little bit.

You watched a few more episodes of you guys’ show, making sure to put it back to where it was when she fell asleep before you relaxed as well, pulling the covers up over the two of you.

With a final kiss to her nose, this one earning a soft smile in her sleep, you leaned your head against hers before following her to sleep, mumbling, “Sweet dreams, my love... You’re gonna be a great mother...”

Pregnancy was... well...

Sevika wasn’t sure how to describe her pregnancy. She was in such a weird place after the initial day of her father finding out that she wasn’t sure what to make of anything.

One moment, he was “caring” for her- which really just meant not beating the shit out of her and pimping her out- and the next he was either acting like she didn’t exist or, again, human punching bag.

As far as symptoms, her vomiting didn’t last very long, took her maybe two weeks after that day for her to get a handle on forcing her morning sickness back down no matter what.

She really didn’t get the chance to think about it much. Sure, she had aches and pains. Sure, she had cravings. Sure, she was in and out of bathrooms like it was nobody’s business. But, those were all just minor- trivial things that ranged from annoying to slightly inconvenient at times.

The hard part was delivery.

Sevika delivered her daughter herself.

Alone, in a back alley, deep in the very heart of Zaun.

Giving birth hurt more than anything she’d ever felt before and anything she’d ever feel after.

Sevika didn’t know much about her body.

Besides the hateful things spewed about it from her father, the lustful words from her “clients”, and the few things she’d managed to sneak and read back when she was younger, she actually didn’t know much about how her body worked, let alone pregnancy.

But something seemed to come over her.

It was as if suddenly she knew everything she needed to have her baby safely.

Yes, she was giving birth in a dirty alleyway- the whole of Zaun was dirty, it was unavoidable- but even through the pain she was... calm.

She wasn’t worried about someone finding her and interfering. She wasn’t worried about her father.

All she cared about was making sure her baby made it out into this world.

And she did it.

With nothing but a lighter, a shoelace, a pocketknife, and some stolen whiskey, she delivered her baby.

A girl.

She always wanted to have a daughter when she was little.

She told herself that she’d have a girl so she could give her all the love and care that her father never showed her.

She named her Mieko.

Sevika didn’t know who the father was before now.

And even though Mieko was but a newborn, she knew.

This baby belonged to her father.

The next morning was a rush.

Sev wanted to get to your mom’s as soon as possible. She didn’t say anything about last night aside from asking if your nose had bled any more after she fell asleep, and you didn’t mention it either.

But the cloud still hung.

You noticed her fiddling with the two shell casings that hung from the same chain as her wedding ring. Every so often her hand would stray up to her neckline, fingers practically searching for the items that sat just beneath the fabric of her shirt. Each time you just gave her mech hand a little squeeze, kissing the back of it just the same as you would her flesh hand.

She was thankful you didn’t pry. You never did, actually. Sure, you knew what the casings held within them, and even more you knew exactly what it meant when she started to play with them, but you didn’t bother her about it. You gave her breath and space to grieve in her own way, never pushing for answers, never making her feel weak for showing her sadness. It was one of the many reasons she loved you so much.

Naturally, the somber mood slowly started to lift the closer the two of you got to your mother’s place of residence. You knew Sev was only mostly trying to distract herself, but you also knew how much she and your mother adored one another.

Presently, she was still fiddling with that chain of hers, rubbing the casings between her fingers as she spoke, “D’you think she’ll try and keep us here if it turns out we’re just having a baby?”

“As if you’d be opposed. The way you two act, people would swear I was the one who married in.”

She chuckled, sticking her tongue out at you, “Don’t be mad at me because moms prefers me. I’m just that guy.”

You rolled your eyes, playfully mushing her in the face, “Literally die. Don’t ever say some stupid shit like that again.”

“Or what?”

“No booty.”

“What?!” She cried incredulously, immediately on her knees, “C’mon, mama, you know I was just playing. ‘M sorry...” she trailed, looking up at you with puppy eyes.

You couldn’t help the snicker that escaped you as you pulled her up by her chin, being sure to press your lips to hers when she got close enough before she was once again standing over you, “You gotta be nice to me, okay? I’m 65 percent sure mom wrote me out of her will to put you in it.”

She rolled her eyes playfully before leaning down to kiss you once more, “Oh, please, even if she did you already know I’d just give it all to you anyway.”

“True, true.”

“You ready?”

“Yeah, are you?”

“Hell yeah. If you end up not being pregnant we’ll just try again when we get home... so long as you’re not dying or something.”

“What if I was?”

“Don’t make me beat your ass, dreamy.”

You gasped dramatically, “You tryna eat my ass?!”

“I most certainly would hope not.”

The two of you immediately forgot about the little argument that was about to start as you both raced to get to your mom first from where she stood on her porch.

“Mommy,” you exclaimed as you launched yourself into her arms.

She let out a dramatized grunt as she wrapped you up in her embrace, squeezing you tightly, “I wish you’d have told me you were coming before I felt you. Would’ve made your favorites.”

“Sorry, it was kind of an emergency.”

Sevika cut in, tugging you out of the way, “Yeah, kinda like you hogging moms right now.”

Your mother snickered, squeezing Sev just the same, “You two need to be nice and stop fighting over me all the time. You both know that I love you equally.”

“But Sev’s not even-”

“What did I just say, gummy?”

You huffed, folding your arms as you grumbled under your breath, “I can’t stand either of you.”

When the two finally released each other, your mother turned her attention back to you, raising a brow, “Sevi, baby, can you do me a favor?”

“Anything, moms.”

“Go to the garden and gather the vegetables I’ll need for stir fry, please. I’ll be in the kitchen after I finish with this one,” she requested, eyes never leaving you as she seemed to be scrutinizing you. Sev left with a kiss to your cheek and another to your mom’s temple before she practically skipped away into the garden like the overgrown kid she really was.

“Do you have something you wanna tell me?”

“What do you mean, ma?”

“You’re choosing that card? Step into my office, gummy.”

You bit your lip as you followed after her into her home office, fiddling with the hem of your hoodie, “I swear to you, I don’t think I’ve got anything worse than a cold-”

“Sit down,” she instructs, not looking to play these games with you. You shut up immediately, sitting back as she takes your vitals, “Last period?”

“9 weeks ago.”

“6 weeks late, huh?”

“I know what you’re thinking and-”

“Did you know I’ve been dreaming about fish for a month now? Tiny little fish swimming around with tadpoles.”

You looked up at her as she handed you a cup, “Seriously, ma? I’m literally your only gay child.”

She raised a brow, “What does that have to do with me? Piss. I’m testing everyone, it hasn’t just been you.”

“So you tested Ky?”

“Sure did.”

You rolled your eyes the moment your back was turned, a slipper promptly smacking you in the back of the head, “Ow! I didn’t even say anything.”

“You rolled your eyes and you were grumbling in your head about me making your brother take a pregnancy test. Obviously, I tested his wife, genius.”

You smacked, rubbing the back of your head, “I didn’t even-” she raised her other slipper and you promptly shut your mouth before grabbing her slipper from earlier, handing it back to her. “I started getting the nosebleeds,” you mumbled softly.

She looked up from her clipboard, voice and eyes softer than before, “Dear, why you know-”

“That it means I’m pregnant? Yeah... I know...”

She set her things aside, wrapping her arms around you, “Oh my little girl... all grown up... about to have a little girl of her own.”

You chuckled through the tears that had begun to fall, “We don’t even know if it’s a girl yet. Not even close to finding that out.”

She waved your argument away, rubbing your back, “Did you forget who your mother is?”

You didn’t answer, holding her a little tighter. Your mom softened, voice quiet as she questioned, “What’s wrong, gummy?”

“I’m scared...”

“Of?”

“All of it.... being a mom... having a kid in the heart of Zaun... what if... what if Sevika falls out of love with me? Or I fuck up and lose the baby somehow? Or-”

“Excuse me? I know this isn’t how I raised you to think.”

“I know, but-”

“No buts. You’re scared of being a mom? Comes with the territory. You’re scared of having your kid in the heart of Zaun? Guess what, baby girl, that’s where my mom had me, and look at how I turned out. You think you’ll somehow breathe wrong and lose the baby, I already know because I know you- you won’t. I’ll check you two out properly before you guys go back home just to be sure everything is fine and in working order with you and your body and the baby.”

“As for Sevika? Sweet girl, if you think that girl is going anywhere away from you, then you clearly have a lot of learning to do. She looks at you like you’re the very air she needs to breathe; as if you hung the sun, moon, and stars just for her. That girl loves you even more than I do, and you’re my baby,” she chimed, playfully pinching your cheek, “Make no mistake, there’s nothing that could make her fall out of love with you. Not this one. And by Janna, if she does- call me.”

You chuckled through your tears, letting out a little sigh, “I got this?”

She gave you a kiss to your forehead, “Yes, sweet girl. You’ve got this. And I’ll be here the whole time, okay? And you’ve got a wife that loves you... You’ll be okay. And if you ever want to move back up here at any time during your pregnancy or after, let me know. My door is always open, you know this.”

“I know....”

The two of you stood like that for a good while before you mumbled, “Mommy?”

“Yes, gummy?”

“Thank you.”

She let out a soft sigh, shaking her head as she held you a little tighter, “Anything for my girl. I’ll keep the news to myself so you can tell my other daughter, alright?”

“Thanks... I love you.”

She planted an audible kiss to your forehead, “Of course, little one. I love you more. Now clean that pretty little face and get yourself together. I’ll tell your wife you’re using the bathroom while we get dinner going, okay?”

You let out a happy little sigh, giving your mother one last good squeeze, “Thanks, mommy.”

She gave your stomach a little pat before turning to leave, “Don’t take too long or you know she’ll come find you. Also, you have a cold, sit your ass on the couch when you come out and don’t you dare set foot in my kitchen, you hear?”

“Yes, mommy. I’ll be out in a second.”

The door closed behind her and you placed a hand on your stomach letting out a little breath, “Now I’ve gotta figure out how to tell your mom about you, angel.”

2 years.

Sevika had been hiding her daughter from her father successfully for 2 years.

She doesn’t know how he found her. She didn’t know then and, to this day, she doesn’t know now.

She’d returned to her childhood home from a day of “work”, heart falling from her stomach as Mieko came tottering to her, wrapping around her leg.

For the longest time, fear was the only word she could use to describe that day, but no... it was something more than that. Sevika wasn’t just afraid. She was horrified. Petrified even.

How long had her daughter been alone with her father? How did he find her? How long had he known about her? Was this his first time coming into contact with her?

A million questions and terrible scenarios ran through her mind, the soft pat of her daughter’s hand on her leg pulling her from the slow descent into panic. She couldn’t help but smile at her baby, picking her up and smothering her in kisses as the little girl dissolved into giggles. She could feel her father’s eyes watching her every move.

“You take her to the back room.” His voice was gruff as always, words short and to the point.

Sevika froze. She knew what was coming for her if she let go of her daughter and faced him alone. She didn’t move, arms clutching onto her child as her heart raced even faster than her thoughts.

There had to be a way out of this.

Her father hated repeating himself. His anger was palpable, a churning storm ready to roll through the house as he slammed his fist down, “Back room, now!”

The loud noise and his elevated voice scared Mieko. She started crying. He hates crying.

Sevika slowly backed toward the front door, holding a crying Mieko to her chest as she tried to quiet her.

Wrong.

Her father was in front of her in an instant, large hands reaching for Mieko. Sevika went to turn around, run back out the door, only to have her face smashed into it, her daughter torn from her arms by his other hand. He shook the crying child, screaming at her to shut up.

Disoriented with blurry vision, Sevika stood on unsure feet, trying to reach for her daughter back.

She felt that familiar tiny hand clutch her finger for the briefest of moments before a shot rang out.

She saw red.

Sevika’s hand strayed to the shell casings around her neck frequently throughout dinner, her eyes misty and sort of far away. Your mother looked to you, wondering what was up with her daughter in law, but you waved off her concern, stroking your thumb over Sevika’s thigh in a show of silent comfort each time she withdrew from the conversation.

After dinner was finished and the dishes had been put away, your mother left for bed with a kiss to each of your foreheads. You sat on the couch with your wife, rolling a cigar for her as she curled around you, her flesh hand at your stomach, tracing patterns over the bit of skin poking from beneath your top.

You placed the ‘gar between your lips, lighting it before taking a hit and holding it out for your wife.

She took it, not hitting it, but studying it before she took a hit, sighing upon her exhale of the smoke.

“How are you feelin’,” you asked softly, playing with her semi-wavy hair that had been freed from the braids and pigtails you’d made the night prior.

“Stressed... worried...” she trailed off, voice falling quieter as she passed the blunt back to you, “sad...”

“Where do you wanna start?”

She shrugged, unwrapping herself from around you to sit up beside you, “Dunno... it’s all just a lot right now...”

You leaned your head on her shoulder, taking a couple more hits of the blunt before you passed it back to her, taking up interest in her mech hand as you started to fiddle with the metal, “Okay.... what’s got you stressed?”

“Everything...”

“But in particular at this moment?”

She didn’t answer for a few moments, eyes clouding over again. You gave her mech hand a squeeze, whispering gently, “Hey...”

“Hm?”

“You keep leaving me... Talk to me...”

“Is it possible to miss someone you’ve never met?”

Her mom.

You gave a small nod, “Entirely possible.”

“It’s like.... this longing... But it’s more than that because how can you long for something you never truly had? Even worse to miss someone who... who’s not here anymore because of you...”

Her last sentence was like a ghost, the words dissipating the moment they left her lips.

“Sevi...”

“It’s fine, I’m-”

“No, you aren’t, baby... And you don’t have to be. It’s okay to not be okay... But I wish you’d stop faulting yourself for that...”

She let out a sigh, holding the blunt out for you, “I know... Just.... can we talk about something else? Or just cuddle and smoke?”

You nodded as you took another hit, “We can do that.”

The silence that fell was comfortable, the two of you sharing the blunt back and forth until it was nothing but a roach left. You leaned to place it in the ashtray on the coffee table before moving to lay aginst Sev’s chest.

Your body was buzzing. It had been a while since you last smoked and you felt that familiar sensation of both floating and sinking into your wife’s body as you lay atop her, her arms wrapped loosely around your waist, flesh hand trazing lazy patterns along your spine.

You tilted your head slightly to look up at her, her eyes fixated on the ceiling, but not really- she was thinking.

“You have such pretty eyes,” you whispered.

Her grin was immediate as she moved her vision down to you, those silver orbs darkened in her high state, “You think so?”

You nodded, curling further into her as you closed your own eyes, “So pretty... I hope the baby gets your eyes.”

Sevika is known for being a woman who revels in violence.

The Scary lady of Zaun.

She’s the one who kicks ass and takes names- no questions.

But it wasn’t always like that.

The shot flipped a switch in her.

To be quite honest, she’s not sure what exactly killed him.

Maybe it was her beating him.

Maybe it was her bashing his skull into the wall.

Maybe she’d broken his ribs with her kicks, punctured a lung or even better his heart.

She didn’t know.

But when the rage had settled and her father lie dead on the floor, she saw her little girl.

She crumpled, those tears she’d been holding back for so long in her life ripped from her as she held her girl in her arms.

Those tiny fingers wrapped around her pinky for the last time, matching silver orbs growing dim as Mieko took her final breath in her mother’s arms.

Sevika’s heart stopped in her chest as she froze beneath you.

You sat up, looking down to find her eyes glossed over, a single tear escaping, “Sev?”

Her eyes were wide, heart hammering away in her chest, threatening to burst from it as she just barely managed to speak, “You... you’re...”

You took her hands, nodding as you whispered, “Yeah, baby... I’m pregnant.”

You were holding back tears of your own. You’d only seen your wife cry once, and that was on your wedding day. Sevika crying was as rare as you getting a nosebleed.

You cupped her face in your hands, wiping away her tears as they fell. She seemed frozen, eyes faraway again as she whispered feebly, “You...”

Sevika didn’t know what to say. She had dreamed about this moment, played it out a million different ways in her head. She just knew she’d wrap you up in her arms, a mess of kisses and giggles. But now that it was here, the two of you under the light of the fire in your mom’s living room, she was stuck.

Her eyes focused on you as you spoke, tears in your eyes, “Hey, come back to me? You okay?”

No, she wasn’t okay.

“You’re pregnant...” she whispered, still sounding like she didn’t believe it.

You let out a soft chuckle, nodding as you leaned in to kiss a line down her nose, ending with her lips, “We made a baby, Sev...”

There were stars in her eyes as she stared at you. She was never one for flowery language, she’d tried, but she always stumbled over her words or felt like she’d just come off cheesy. Her hands moved to your waist, thumbs stroking the sides of your stomach as she looked up at you, “We did...”

“We’re gonna be parents...”

“We are...” she whispered, her words thick as she blinked away a fresh batch of tears.

You didn’t wipe them away this time. Instead, you pulled her closer, wrapping your arms around her as she tucked her face into the crook of your neck. If you felt her tears soak through your shirt, you didn’t say anything, fingers combing through her hair as you rocked softly.

Sevika was swimming through her thoughts in her mind. She was petrified and ecstatic at the same time, but the fear seemed to overtake the happiness by an astounding wave, causing her to press further into you. You simply wrapped your arms tighter around her, pressing a kiss into her hair as you rubbed her back to keep her grounded.

Her mind was running about a million miles a minute. Flashbacks of her own pregnancy, her labor and delivery in that cramped alley... the few moments of peace and happiness shared with her daughter.... Mieko’s eyes as the life leaked from them...

Then she thought about you. The life the two of you have settled into together. The day that started all of this when the two of you decided to try for a baby. About all the shit you’ve had to put up with thus far and all the things to come.

She pulled back to look at you, silver eyes glistening still in the lowlight, pupils blown as she found her voice, whispering under her breath, “Thank you...”

Your eyes caught on your mother, a soft smile on your face as she mouthed, “I told you so.”

🤎©️ All work belongs to sexysapphicshopowner. Do not use or repost my content in any way without my consent or permission. Thank you! 🤎

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myfandomprompts · 1 year

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𝐀𝐞𝐦𝐨𝐧𝐝 𝐱 𝐑𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 | 𝐘𝐨𝐮 𝐖𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐀𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐖𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐌𝐞 - 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝟕

Warning: Slight explicitness Masterlist (Part 6 - Part 8)

Summary: You find your old habits in the Red Keep, although war times are making your life quite difficult as Aemond possesses the most fire power.

A/N: This story will be spoiler free of the Dance for now on, as I have not read the books.

You woke up with the news. Aemond and Aegon were to fly off to war within the day, to join the army that had been sent in advance to the Riverlands where the Black Queen tried to surround the Crownlands.

So you were up early, having dressed up alone and your feet leading you to the training grounds, an old habit you had while growing up in King's Landing. You would always venture to where Aemond was at the time, eager to see him spar, excelling at him as he grew stronger and fiercer. It had been a pleasure of yours once.

And today did not disappoint.

At last you saw him, and this for the first time since your arrival from Storm's End, his silver hair flowing around him as he swung his sword at three men he kept yelling at, evidently very upset. You wondered what made him so angry as you watched him strike blow after blow, a way of externalising his anger, you thought. But seeing him like this, chest heaving as he got the upper hand on his opponents, was enticing, and you couldn't help but think about the night you spent with him at Storm’s End.

Since this night, your sleeps have been restless, overcome by dreams of his touch, the sensations he gave your skin, and by the way he made you see stars, only to wake up in your bed alone and feel empty again. You realised that you missed his presence dearly. During those sleepless nights, you had even tried to reproduce what he so easily managed to do to you back in the stormy chambers, but it wasn't enough. He was. So you grew more frustrated as the days passed, unable to focus on a mere task. And now he was there.

From your position on the balcony above the training ground, you thought yourself far enough not to draw attention to you, but you ended up being quite wrong.

Aemond, like attracted to something he couldn't see, had raised his gaze up toward you and froze on the spot for a while, giving one of his opponent’s the opportunity to strike. Aemond managed to block the blow swiftly at the last moment and send the man on the ground with a grunt.

You swallowed nervously as you now saw him throw his sword away and take great strides toward you, locking his eye with yours as he reached the stairs. Seconds after that, he was facing you, his gaze so murderous that you felt forced to take a few steps back.

He came very close to your body as murmurs started to rise from the fighting pit at the Prince's sudden departure. Now inches from you, his wide eye frantically searching yours, your throat felt dry, unable to say a single word.

"I've been looking for you, my Lady. Sent for you. But no responses," he said, tone dangerously low. "Do you find it funny in some way? Hiding from me like you did?"

You found this unfair. Not being able to see him was not entirely your fault, as you did go to your usual places around the castle, without mentioning your father's refusal and the fact that Aemond was rather busy in meetings and war preparation. But you were certainly not ready to say that to him, as his body currently screamed for violence, his breathing still heavy from his fight.

"I did not know where to find you, my Prince," you lied. "And no urgency led me to seek an audience with you of late," you managed to say without a flicker in your voice.

This was less of a lie, but you couldn't exactly reveal that you were aching for his presence every single day you walked on this earth. And most concerningly, every single night.

Aemond inhaled sharply at your answer. It was like you had slapped him, and you had no choice but to stand your ground as he took a step closer.

"And what of my urgency? Are you telling me that you are indifferent to it?" he whispered, his breath on your cheek.

Flashes of him between your parted legs and your own failed attempts during your lonely nights came through your mind and you closed your eyes briefly to chase the image. He didn't miss the shiver that roamed your entire body and when you opened your eyes again, you saw his devilish grin appear.

"Ah... Here we are," he said mischievously, and you were sure that something in your eyes shifted, the sign of both your shame and desire.

You sensed a presence near you and you remembered that you were not alone. Two nobles had walked past you on the balcony, glaring at the both of you. Aemond seemed to remember himself as well as he reluctantly put distance between you, waited for them to disappear and gently pushed at your waist.

"Walk with me," he commanded, looking around at the crowd below in the training ground as if he desired nothing but to annihilate all of them.

So you followed, walking side by side at a respectful distance until you reached the gardens at the seaside. The walk was silent, Aemond looking straight ahead, tensed, and you felt compelled to talk, at least to ease the evident tension.

"I've visited Helaena recently, and the children," you announced. "They grew up fast, I even found them to be looking up to their father as they demanded his attention quite sweetly."

At this moment you thought about telling him the reasons you had left all of these months ago to Dragonstone, on false pretences, that now you believed him. You wanted to apologise about not trusting him, in not thinking the twins weren't his, and that it was why you had abandoned him. But you found it unwise at the moment, watching his jaw clench at the mention of Aegon.

"Am I to understand that you saw my brother of late?" he asked.

"Yes I did," you replied, happy to make him say something, anything. "He even showed interest in my stay in the Storm's Lands."

You didn't know why you would say that to him but it seemed to have an unexpected effect.

"I don't want you to be near Aegon again," he deadpanned.

"I beg your pardon? I can't possibly promise you th-"

"Since he became King, he tends to be rather discourteous and forgets himself easily. Even more so than before. It would be unfortunate if I was to be labelled a Kingslayer as well as a Kinslayer."

At this moment you understood that he had chosen to own it. The death of Lucerys. Even though you knew of the guilt he had confessed to you at Storm’s End, here in King's Landing, this incident was viewed as the inevitable consequences of Aemond's short temper and cause of the ongoing conflict. The realisation made you pity him. You never imagined how much Aemond was concealing to the court, to his family.

But for the moment, you sent frantic looks around you, concerned at anyone who could have heard him.

"Aemond! Don't say things like that!" you scolded, glancing around as you entered a more secluded area, and you were surprised to discover an amused look on his face, apparently finding your panicked state quite funny.

"Always so careful," his smile grew wider as he pulled you further into the ivy-covered ruins you were in and before you knew it, his lips had crashed on yours, one hand cupping your cheek and the other on your waist, the kiss surprisingly soft considering the many moods he demonstrated since he left the training grounds.

You put your hands on his chest as you gasped for air, looking up at him.

"We shouldn't do that... Not right before you are to leave me, flying straight into battle." You gave him a desperate look. He only sighed and started to play with your necklace.

"It'll only be for several hours," he told you. "Vhagar is the mightiest dragon there is, I will be back before you know it."

"But I'll still worry. This is only the beginning and none of us has seen war yet. So many things can go wrong and I cannot stand the thought of you not coming back," you admitted, unsure of why you were so honest at this moment. You felt one of his fingers graze your cheek.

"Then trust me. Have faith in Vhagar, have faith in me," he said with watchful eyes. "No harm will come to me as I promised no harm will come to you."

You nodded weakly, wanting so dearly to believe him as he put his forehead against yours softly.

"And I find your worry rather appealing my Lady," he continued, amusement filling his voice again. "Is it that you are so enthralled with me that you don't want me to leave your side?" he said jokingly, but you didn't enjoy it as much as him, images of Cassandra flashing through your mind, the woman that ought to be at his side one day.

"Do not jest about that Aemond please," you answered, but he was half listening, taking hold of your hips and bringing you closer in a swift movement.

"And as for this..." he said before pulling you into a kiss once more, his hand taking hold of your chin softly. "I would do it at any moment, even if I'm flying into battle, as you put it."

His confidence made you forget the thought of Cassandra and you were soon lost in his gaze, the lilac of his eye casting a sort of longing you’ve never seen in Aemond before. But the moment passed as he kissed your forehead in goodbyes and turned away, watching him leave the gardens, believing that it was not, indeed, the last time you saw him.

You spent the afternoon between the library and your father's office, until you decided that you should do something about the stress your body was suffering from. Vhagar and Sunfyre had gone since noon, and dread was now your constant companion. So you decided to visit someone who would share your anguish, and went to Helaena's.

On your way there, you heard muffled crying coming from another corridor. Following the noise, you found a boy, no more than ten years of age, crouching on the floor, head in his hand, hiccups escaping him as he cried.

"There my child, why are you crying?" you said as you extended your hand to his shoulder tenderly, making him look up at you.

"It's- my doll," he stuttered through sobs. "Another boy hid it because he thought it was funny, and when I went to look for it I-, I got lost."

"What is your name?" you asked, smiling sweetly at him. He reminded you of your brother, even if he seemed much younger than him.

"Hugo," he replied. "I am Hugo Vance of Atranta."

"Well Hugo, do not worry, I've lived here most of my life and I know my way around better than the maids. We will find your doll and you'll be returning to your family in no time, agreed?"

Your warm smile seems to soothe him as he looked at you like you were the saviour he was looking for. He nodded, stood up and took your hand as you led him through a well-known hiding place where you used to hide Aegon's belongings with Aemond when he was insufferable to him as a child. You were sure that the hiding spot was still quite popular among the next generation.

And you were right. The doll was found and Hugo, in his happiness, talked all the way to the guest wing where he resided. He thanked you and gave you a warm goodbye before disappearing.

Thanks to him, you had managed to take Aemond off your mind, but it came back quickly as you walked towards the Queen's apartments once again, only to find them quite crowded.

Helaena welcomed you warmly, happy to see you, while intendants and maids were faring around the room, the twins playing with the nurses on the ground. You went to sit next to your friend to greet her, only then noticing the Dowager Queen, Alicent Hightower, looking out of the window, clearly anxious and waiting for her sons to return. You tried not to acknowledge her as the intendants kept bothering her with matters you had no interest in, staying near Helaena the whole time and attempting to escape the uneasiness you both felt considering the circumstances. It worked quite well until you felt the presence of the older Queen coming to sit across from you.

During your childhood, Queen Alicent seemed quite happy with the friendship you had with her children, surely content that they were spending time with others rather than with Rhaenyra's children. But it has been years since she smiled at you, her newly found religious faith and duties making her more and more distant. And now you felt troubled as she gave you side glances that you found it difficult to ignore.

"Do you pray, Lady Y/N?" she asked you, surprisingly taking interest in you.

"I do your Grace. Especially now," you answered simply.

"It is a hard time indeed, my sons are out there fighting, and all that we women can do is pray for their safe return and hope that what we have accomplished is enough," she said religiously. "Is it not quite unfair to be limited by our position when we surely could do much more?"

You nodded, rather agreeing with her, but staying silent before the Queen's strong gaze, however, until an intendant came and requested her attention.

"Your Grace, we have received the list of items requested by Lord Baratheon, regarding the wedding of his daughter to Prince Aemond." he said, presenting a piece of parchment. "You are asked to review it before we may begin preparation soon."

Alicent sighed and took the paper, but you didn't miss the way she glanced at you, analysing your reaction. You let nothing appear as your heart began to beat faster in your chest.

Soon, Aemond will be married to a pretty black-haired girl, and there was nothing you could do about it, more than you already had against your own accord in fact. The thought made you so infuriated that at this moment you feared the Queen would see, but nothing happened.

You wondered if she had got wind of the rumours that emanated from Storm's Land about you and her son, if she believed them. But you said nothing else of all of the afternoon, avoiding the Queen's gaze before retiring to your chambers for the night, more lost at your feelings than you thought you would ever be.

Whatever feelings you were harbouring for him, for the man who would soon marry to a woman who will give him sons, they were meaningless. You would not stand to be the girl who was infatuated with a married man, to your childhood friend, you owed it to the realm. However, the pain you felt in your heart at the realisation told you that you were incapable to suppress those feelings any more, you were in too deep, years of affections now shifting into more and hitting you like waves. Escaping, like you did all of those months ago with Dragonstone, would not work. Nothing would work. So you were doomed to suffer in silence, and keep your head high as you would watch him being pulled away from you.

It was the next day, after an agitated night filled with dreams of Aemond falling in battle that you learned of his return.

You were having tea with other ladies of the court when your father entered and informed you of the dragons' return. You stood up immediately in relief and excitement but the tensed feature of your lord father made you stop: Aegon had been injured, and was now under the close care of his family and the maesters. It appeared that the Greens' army had been victorious, however, but all that mattered to you is the relief you felt at their return.

But you didn't see Aemond for another whole day, only hearing rumours of Aegon being out of danger as he slowly recovered, but you grew more frustrated as no new information reached you. You didn't even have the details of his predicament, only that he could not make any public appearances of yet.

Another day passed, and you became more upset, unable to admit to yourself why. Aemond surely was not prevented from making public appearances, and yet he was nowhere to be seen.

One night you saw Vhagar flying around the castle briefly and disappearing behind a cliff along the coast. You wondered if Aemond was with her at that moment. It didn't soothe you in the slightest.

On the third day, you heard that a feast was to be held, in honour of the recent victory in the Riverlands and to the renewed health of the King. You were apprehensive for the festivities to take place.

"If I may, my Lady!"

You were on your way to the Weirwood Tree when you heard someone call you. When you turned you saw a young man walking toward you, tall, black-haired and green-eyed. He was easy on the eyes, you thought as he levelled with you in the corridor.

"My name is Addam, Addam Vance," he said as he bowed slightly. "I am glad to finally meet you, as I heard much about you. I believe you have met my brother."

You stayed silent, taken aback by the sudden encounter.

"Hugo," he continued as you said nothing. "You helped him find his doll?" he smiled.

"Oh yes! My apologies." You now saw the resemblance between the two brothers and were relieved that the one before you did not take your silence as ill-mannered. "He is a sweet boy, I could not have let him in this state," you assured warmly.

"Of course, I did not doubt your kind character when he told me that "a beautiful nice maiden" had helped him during my absence," he said with a grin. You felt your cheeks warm up a little at that. He kept on.

"My apologies but, even as I know of your virtues, I do not know your name," he said kindly.

"Oh, I am Y/N, Y/N of House Lydden," you bowed gracefully as you introduced yourself, and he stared at you, not missing a beat of your movement. When you straightened up again, you were curious.

"You said you were absent. Were you in the Riverlands perhaps?" you asked, titling your head to the side.

"I was, my Lady. My father in his loyalty and that of my House, came to fight for the King, and so did I. We've only just returned this morning after days of march."

"By the gods you must be exhausted!' you exclaimed. "I am glad you returned unharmed, my Lord. I'm sure you are looking forward to the victory feast tomorrow as well."

"It will be rewarding for sure, but only a brief distraction, as the war is not over unfortunately. I fear that all of this could have been avoided, but here we are, our only solace is in hoping that all that bloodshed will soon be over." He stated wisely. You smiled, agreeing with him, impressed by his maturity.

Seconds passed where neither of you spoke, only gazing at each other before Addam eventually broke the silence.

"I will leave you be my Lady, as I do not wish to keep you with boring stories of war," he shyly laughed as he took your hand and kissed the back of it. "But I hope to cross your path again soon."

And he left. You did not know what it was, but there was a shift in the atmosphere you did not notice until he was gone. You breathed and resumed your walk, thinking about House Vance.

Aemond finally landed, Vhagar roaring under him as she lowered her wings on the ground.

It has been days since the battle in the Riverlands and yet he did not have a moment of peace. Upon his return and due to Aegon's injury, it was decided that watching the ship movements between the Gullet and King's Landing was of the utmost importance. And because he was the only one able to fly now, he had been sent above the Bay, surveilling the waters and soaring through the sky. The few times he was back in the Red Keep, it was only for his mother to drown him under matters he did not care about, her worried state always growing more and more now that Aegon was injured. As much as he liked his mother and the war councils, he wished that he could all send them to hell and do as he liked, as he was the only one that could, in his mind, do what it takes to win this war, the only one capable.

But Aemond understood the meaning of duty, and like his mother, understood that he was to do his best to protect his family and the realm.

So he indulged them, even agreeing to this ridiculous marriage arrangement. If ever the Baratheons were stupid enough to stand along the side the Blacks, Aemond would have burned Storm's End right away, and be done with it. But it was not the way his family planned things. Instead he would wed, in exchange for loyalty. If there was one thing Aemond was familiar with, it was sacrifice, having experienced it first hand when he was ten. But as more time passed, the more he told himself that this marriage was the last thing he wanted.

Because it would mean that he could not have you completely.

-0- Part 8

@let-love-bleeds-red @crazylokonugget @jeyramarie @ephemeralninon @mrswhitethornbelikov @dudfahsn @missusnora @queenofterrasen418 @honeytrapsblogp-graham @heathclifftragedyy @discowizard88 @ivartheblessed @xceafh @bubbletae7 @omgkatherine97 @tzipora-art @signyvenetia

#saemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #aemond x oc #aemond x female original character #aemond x original character #aemond x you #house targaryen #hotd #house of the dragon #aemond #vhagar #possessive behaviour #ywawm

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hyerinrose · 1 year

Text

Lovesick

《Onesided! M Yandere X Yandere! GN Reader》

A/N : its been a while since i last wrote a long fic. Might be crusty but hope you like it! Also i gave reader's obsession name, darling based on an utau.

T/W : Obsessive behaviour, possessive behaviour, stalking, implied murder, implied harm done towards reader's darling, blood, threats (made towards reader's darling and yan)

•┈••✦ 🖤✦••┈•🖤•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•

[Name] were perched ontop of a tree, dressed in all black outfit with a camera in hand. The absence of a street light causes them to blend into the night. They are what a text book definition of a stalker, in which they are.

Despite it being late at midnight, [Name] were not once exhausted and kept their eye trailed onto the figure across them. The person was sleeping soundly in their bed, blissfully unaware of a stalker watching them.

This obsession they have with Darling had been going on for a few month. They were the longest one so far out of the many obsession [Name] have. What is it the way the look, act or their personality? They don't know what gravitate them towards Darling so much.

Click. Clack. Click.

"That's another one for the collection of Darling sleeping, perfection as always" [Name] sighed lovingly while caressing the polaroid picture they just took.

"[Name] is that you?" Their head snapped so fast towards the sound of their name, it could give them whiplash.

Their previous alertness fades away and replaced with annoyance once they saw who it was. The male who called out to them grinned as he saw [Name].

"What do you want, Vance. I told you to piss off and leave me alone before didn't I?" The [H/C] coloured person scoffed and turned their attention back to Darling's slumbering form.

They're so perfect. I love them so much-

"Dude what the hell?!" They whispered yelled as Vance suddenly took a seat beside them on the tree. It sound less romantic considering the animosity [Name] had towards the other.

Vance shrugged them off and proceed to snuggled up beside them, causing [Name]'s fight or flight mode to be activated and pushes him off the tree. They really don't like to be touched.

"You're cruel as always, love" Vance laughed breathily, pain coursing through his body from the fall.

As he stared up at [Name] he was reminded of how he fell in love with them. The day he met the love of his life.

•┈••✦ 🖤✦••┈•🖤•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•

"Oi, what are you doing there, huh?"

Vance were slacking off his class again, he rather had an earful lecture from his parents than rot in that class. He'd usually would laze around at the back of the school but today he saw someone following another in a rather suspicious way.

The person tensed up at Vance's voice. They stopped in their track and the ginger eventually caught up to them.

"Hey I asked you-"

Suddenly the [H/C]-nette pinned him onto the wall, catching him off guard. Then, he felt the sharp tip of a blade pointed at his neck, ready to slit his throat with a swift move.

The two were in an isolated area of the school, no one goes here unless they wanted to do shady business. Vance felt sweat rolled down his body from fear but along with that something else was brewing up.

"Never heard of a saying to not stick your nose in people's business?" They spoke with an icy tone, their [E/C] glinted menacingly.

"N-no.." he weakly muttered, his legs feels like jello with how much it shook.

"No? Well let this be a lesson for you.. that is if you're still alive after this" The person smiled, pressing the knife on his skin and drawing bits of blood.

Mustering up whatever foolish courage he had, he spoke.

"P-please spare me" Vance gasped in between his words, eyes glossy with unshed tears.

The [H/C]-nette hums, considering his words in their thoughts before finally releasing him. Vance fell on the floor immediately, his legs giving up.

"Very well then, I'll spare you this once since I don't want to get myself dirty, I have a meeting with my beloved later on. Under one condition, never speak of this to anyone" they tucked their knife back into their pocket, fixing themselves up.

Before he could breathe a sigh of relief, the person faced him with the same murderous look. It sent shivers down his spine.

"Or I'll finish you off myself" with that they left him shaken on the ground, his heart thundering in his chest.

It was not out of fear, It was of excitement.

"I think.. I'm in love with them"

•┈••✦ 🖤✦••┈•🖤•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•

"Vance? I didn't kill you did I? I hope I did" [Name]'s voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Picking himself up, he brushes the leaves off of him and proceed to climb the tree again as if he hadn't been pushed off the first time.

"Fucking hell.. you're still alive. I should've killed you before" They uttered out exhasperately, stunned to see the ginger beside them again.

"Told you ya can't get rid of me that easy, love" He said with a shit eating grin on his face.

[Name] sighed and focuses their attention on Darling again. They're not going to let this bastard stopped them from their nightly routine of observing Darling.

Darling, their darling and only theirs. Their sweet ol' Darling.

Those that dared to get close to [Name]'s beloved had been dealed accordingly. "I don't get what you see in them honestly. They're plain, average and boring. Undeservingly of your love and attention-" the grating voice of Vance reminded them of the company they have.

"One more word, Vance. I swear one more fucking word and I'll kill you for real this time"

There it was the side of them he had been trying to coax out. He meant those words though, every single one of them. Oh how Vance long to be the center of their attention, the root of their obsession.

Instead it was wasted on this thing. What did they do to captivate [Name] like they did him?! With each day his patience with them grows thinner as his desire to be theirs and make them his consumed his mind.

"I don't care. I don't care anymore! When will you look at me like you did with that bitch? I love you so much when they don't even know you existed, I'm willing to kill for you, die for you and yet you're still in love with them!" Vance yelled, his feelings for them bleeding out on the open.

"What do I need to do- to make you love me? Do I need to kill them for you to see how devoted I am to you?" At this point, Vance had jumped off the tree before [Name] had the chance to attack him. His blue irises were manic as a smile curled upon his lips.

I guess it's time for him to get rid of the one who's in his way of getting [Name]. He'll pay them a visit after school tomorrow when he knew that [Name] couldn't be there.

One way or another, he will make [Name] his.

"You will learn how to love me [Name]"

•┈••✦ 🖤✦••┈•🖤•┈••✦ 🖤 ✦••┈•

Reblogs and notes are appreciated!

#yandere x reader #tw: yandere #yandere #yandere imagines #yandere oc #yandere x darling #yandere x you #gender neutral reader #yandere male #yandere x y/n

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notmazikeen · 26 days

Text

The Villain | Choso Kamo

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

‧₊˚✧[chapter 4]✧˚₊‧

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

The humid air stung his face, the engine of his motorcycle roared. He was speeding through the city, trying to get home as quick as possible.

Choso had a black cyberpunk mask on. It had two lines over his eyes and a long line over his nose. The mask was eerie... Especially if you were cowering beneath the monster of a man.

He had on a black spandex bodysuit, it morphed perfectly to his body. Every curve of his muscular body, on display to his victims.

Choso had a sensor in his suit that led him to his victims, when he marks someone their blood is marked with a sort of tracker. With his senses being heightened he can smell his victims blood, only making him want to kill them more.

Everyone thought that the reasoning behind his killing were pointless, that he was just murdering people for fun. It truly would make sense but Choso was very strict on his targets.

The reasonings include: he developed an obsession to the person, he was wronged by the person, the person is 'evil', and if the person inflicted harm to his late family.

He justified his killings by leaving evidence at the scene, if they were corrupt he'd leave papers and photos of them getting caught in the act. He would always draw a symbol in blood where he killed his victims. The symbol was the same as his mask, two lines over his eyes, one over his nose. Odd enough it was never in his victim's blood. Choso used his own blood to mark up his trophies.

As Choso sped through the highway, weaving between cars, he found himself at a beach house. The same beach house he was at the other night.

He turned off his motorcycle and slowly pushed it into the garage. He quickly got off his bike and closed the garage with a button.

He pressed something like a button on his neck and his mask dissolved. He threw a jacket over his black suit and opened the door to go inside the house.

"Niko. I'm back." He grumbled.

A man that was around the same height as Choso walked out of the kitchen. He had blonde hair and brown eyes. He was muscular but nowhere as big as Choso. "Hey Choso! Back so soon?" Niko shot him a smile.

"Yea I didn't find what I was looking for." He mumbled, sounded dissatisfied.

"Aw did the pretty girl run off? You know while she was here for my party, I noticed she kept staring at you." Niko said with a smirk.

Choso rolled his eyes, "Her name is Mazikeen and not everything I do revolves around her. You idiot, you know I can track her right?"

Niko chuckled at his words. "I'm not a dumbass, I upgrade your suit for you. Alsoooo you ignored what I said. She definitely thinks your attractive dude." He rolled his eyes, as if Choso could ever live without him.

Choso growled at his friend, "Yea my bad... I've been watching her. Her parents are never home, I'm positive they work for the government."

"Awe, poor thing. She's off limits for you dude." Niko winked at him and turned to walk away. "I'll be in my room if you need me. Foods in the fridge." He then turned down the hallway and closed his bedroom door behind him.

Choso pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. 'I will have her.'

He reached for the fridge handle and pulled out a takeout box, it was from an Asian restaurant. Inside was white rice and steak with a spicy chili oil sauce. His favorite meal of the week. He set the box on the counter and began eating his dinner.

He abruptly put his fork down, and closed his eyes. Choso could tell Mazikeen was in the area. Her blood scent filled his nose. He growled and shot up.

Choso grabbed his food and walked quickly to his room. He slammed his door and set his food down on his desk.

His body was flushed and hot. He needed that girl. He needed to smell her sweet perfume again. He needed to see her enticing eyes glaring up at him.

Choso ripped his clothes off his body before walking into his private bathroom. He needed to wipe her scent away, he needed to distract himself. If he couldn't hold himself back he would unintentionally hurt her.

Choso grabbed his drawer handle and pulled out a blunt along with a lighter. He lit the blunt and rushed to take a rather long puff.

As he finished off the blunt he let out a sigh. He didn't have any violent intentions as of now, but he had a growing problem. ( ;) )

He glared at himself in the mirror, looking himself up and down. He knew he was attractive, he worked excessively hard to get his body how he wanted. His height just made him more fuckable.

He stepped into the shower, turning the dial all the way to hot. He ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes.

"I don't know if I want to kill you or fuck your brains out..." He groaned.

His hand trailed down to his growing erection. The slower he moved the more desperate he felt, he needed to be touched. Choso needed Mazikeen.

Choso had been watching her for a while now. He became obsessed with her schedule. His roommate knew Taiga, and Choso got ready for that party knowing Mazikeen would come along.

His hand grasped his dick, moving up and down the length ever so slowly. He threw his head back and bit his lip. Ever since he talked to Mazikeen in person the other night, he had been insanely horny. He knew his affect on her.

Thinking about their exchange, Choso moved his hand faster along his dick. Gripping his length tighter. He let out a moan as he whispered, "Ugh princess..."

His dick was throbbing in anticipation, the veins popping out very prominently. He'd moan every now and then, and whisper pet names he called Mazikeen.

He felt heat building up in his stomach, he wanted to cum so badly, he was desperate for the release. But he kept edging himself, slowing down his hand.

Choso leaned his arm against the shower wall, moving his head ontop of his arm, using it as cushion against the hard surface. He was hunched over, panting and whining. He looked down at his large dick and watched as his hand traveled up and down his length.

"F-Fuck..!" He moaned out, cum spilled out onto the shower floor. He caught his breath and brushed his wet hair out of his face.

The Red Death was a sexually deprived murderer and he wanted nothing more than to fuck some girl he's been stalking.

He may seem all big and bad, but Choso really just wants love and affection. He isn't always a raging douchebag, especially when he is alone with someone he cares about.

Choso is the city's super villain, but would he have to change himself for Mazikeen? He could barely stop his urges, he had absolutely no intention of marking her. He also knew that her family knew what her being marked meant. They were going to put her on lockdown for a while, but that wasn't going to stop him from seeing her.

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bisexual-horror-fan · 1 year

Note

ok so. first of all, bex, hiiii! thanks for being a buddy, i adore your writing and your sense of humor ( ˘ ³˘)♥ i come to you with a mutual favorite boy!! i was wondering if you could write Leslie Vernon doing his thing, picking out his final girl (fem reader, i'm also getting self indulgent with this lol), but as he starts to plant seeds and lure her and a few friends in, she's guessing his twists, tracing the path to how he's trying to single someone in the group out (possibly doesn't know it's her until it's too late). the entire time, she's doing it with excitable golden retriever levels of interest. she's not eager to die, of course. maybe she's just too read up on the horror genre and a little shocked that she walked into one. maybe she just hopes that when it comes down to her that the killer will give her a good chase sequence. 😏 it can be nsfw or not, i'll leave the rest up to you because i know you'll do something great with this (sorry that i'm asking for a lot ;; ) so really!! tysm in advance!! ❤❤❤

Well helllloooooo Riri!

So this has been sitting in the ol box for a while but my God, I think this is totally worth the wait! I went really hard on this one and adore it, this is just like, my sexuality summed up, you know what I mean? Let’s not fucking waste time, let’s GO!

—

Rating. Explicit. Length. 5K. Leslie Vernon X FEM! AFAB! Reader. She/Her Pronouns Used. Warnings: Terms Like Final Girl Used. Stalking. The Reader Is A Confident Little Shit. Exciteable Reader. Supportive Eugene And Jamie. You And Leslie Match. Taunting. Discussions Of Horror, Meta, Tropes. Canon Compliant Violence. Blood. Gore. Murder. Death. Fighting. Struggle. Choking. Grinding. Dry Humping. Premature Ejaculation.

—

How The Fuck?

—

It is a frankly gorgeous day.

The sun is out, it feels almost too hot considering how close fall is. He had just gotten some lunch, a BLT on toasted rye and a soda. His health is important, especially with the big night coming up so he has been severely cutting back on the smaller treats, but today was great so far, so why not indulge?

He was in the front seat of his van, right now it was time to watch, he’d been observing for a while, and the core group was out and about on a Saturday, down town, doing what normal young adults do when free, light shopping, easy socialisation, grabbing lunch just like he had.

After taking the first bite of his sandwich he was looking out the windshield, keeping his eyes sharp but still trying to look casual of course, he doesn't want to draw attention doing what he is. He had the window open and was leaning on one arm, resting on his elbow, soda held loosely in his grip and it took him a second too long to realise that you weren't with the group at the moment. Maybe you’d ducked into the cafe you'd all been sitting outside at for something? So unlike him to lose track of you when you were the most important one to watch, he looks down for two seconds for a napkin and this is what happens.

He is of course going to wait this and subsequently you out until he hears a voice right next to him, saying loud and clear, a question of, “Why have you been following me and my friends for the past few weeks?”

Leslie is not an easy guy to scare or sneak up on, usually that's his schtick after all but he manages to appear unaffected, a simple turn of his head, looking you up and down and he hasn’t actually been this physically close to you yet. He wasn’t expecting that to happen today, he wouldn’t let it throw him off his game however, careful planning can only take you so far, you still need to think on your feet and be good at improv, luckily he was amazing at “yes anding-” so there was nothing to fear, this was just a test of his skills.

“What are you talking about?” He asked in a tone that read as confused, pulling his hand back into the car and taking a leisurely sip of his soda, and you smiled, a small cock of your head to the side, “Do I really need to repeat myself? Alright.”

A small shake of your head, a hand comes up and tucks some hair behind your ear as you reiterate your question, “Why have you been following me and my friends for the past few weeks?”

“Again, I have no idea what you’re talking abou-” You cut him off and say with a laugh, “Come on, save it. I’m not stupid.”

He wasn’t giving up yet, he still kept on playing defence, “Listen, I really dunno what the hell you’re thinking but I can tell you that you’re wrong, it’s a small town! Is it a crime to be in the same place at the same time as you?.” He took another bite of his sandwich and you purse your lips in consideration before saying with raised eyebrows, “Not a CRIME no, but still, an awfully big coincidence for it to be happening for weeks on end.”

A hand over his mouth as he replied, “Okay?” A lick over his lips, catching some stray mayo before continuing now that his mouthful was dealt with, he does his best to keep his tone even, “Stranger things and bigger coincidences have happened.”

“Sure, sure. You’re right.”

You let that hang in the air between you both, watching intently as he took another drink before speaking, “So your van-” You kicked the bottom of the door lightly for emphasis, an action that got a raise of his eyebrows, you don’t let it stop you. “-this van, was outside my friends house during our sleepover last week? Along with those scattered apples and the rather suspicious slashes on the tree outside her place we found the next morning.”

That did make him stop.

He caught your eye. Wide smile, leaning in a bit closer as you said, “Just coincidence again?”

When no retort came you spoke again, “I think you’re up to something and I think I know just what it is.”

“Do you now?” He asked, unconvinced, and you hummed, one hand slipping into your pocket, “It’s sooo clear. Just like, look at us-”

You turned, leaned your elbow next to his on the open window frame of the van and pointed down the street to the cafe’ where your friends were all seated. “-a healthy group of young adults, people you wouldn’t normally expect to hang out, but have history, investment, hit a few key demographics and tick a few boxes.” A flourish of your hand, he leaned closer, watching through your splayed fingers as they danced passing over the group before coming to yourself, a gesture down the length of your own body. You note that his eyes still follow your hand.

A beat and then, you point to him, “A mysterious guy who keeps following us around, watching us, coincidentally always nearby, attempting to let his presence not truly be known, but felt, however remaining ultimately unnoticeable before he really wants himself to be. Strange moments enacted by him leaves us all questioning, little clues and hints thrown out hoping to hook us, get us to do something, but what?”

He felt tense, was trying not to show it but he thinks he might be failing.

You press on, “It’s all too clear. I think you are after us for one purpose. You’re a slasher and we-” Another gesture from yourself and to your friends, “-are your target group.”

He is stunned.

How the fuck did you ever figure all this out?

He would need to clean this up, find a new group, this is going to totally fuck up his whole schedule, but then your hands are gripping the window’s edge and you are saying excitedly, “Ha! I Knew it! I can see it on your face! I guessed it!”

You weren’t…Scared?

No, not at all, you looked happy, barely able to contain yourself.

You were talking a mile a minute, big grin and bouncing on your heels, “This is so fucking cool, it’s like stepping into a horror movie for real! I cannot believe you picked us, this is massively exciting for me, you have no idea.”

You drummed your hands on the window’s edge and said, “I don’t wanna keep you from your ‘work’-”, putting air quotes around the word with a wink before saying, “-don’t let me stop you or spoil your fun, okay? I’m excited to see where this goes.”

And just like that you were walking off, a wave over your shoulder and a call of, “Good luck!” As you made your way back towards your friends and all he could do was stare as you went.

Fuck.

He looked down at his sandwich, some of the bacon grease had slipped out of the wrapper and onto his pants and he grimaced, suddenly his appetite was gone.

The rest of the session watching you was tense. You didn’t even glance in his direction. Just laughing it up and having a good time with your friends. He kept expecting you to give him some kind of acknowledgement but there was none and he wasn’t sure what he was meant to do in this situation. He planned for many things and situations and scenarios but not someone in his target group figuring out his whole bit without him wanting them to.

He watched you and your friends leave and he sat there for another ten minutes collecting himself before he started up the van and put it in drive, heading off to the two people he knew could absolutely help him with this.

He was now leaning back on the couch in Eugene and Jamie’s living room after having just spilled his guts explaining all of what went down this afternoon and his thoughts, going back over what happened before today wasn’t needed because he’d already shared the rest as it was going down over the past few weeks.

“So what’s the problem?” Eugene asked and Leslie laughed, a frustrated sound, hand rubbing over his eyes and down his face before his arms crossed and he said, “The problem is she found me out so early! It’s gonna ruin everything, she knows and now-”

“And now what? She thinks she knows but you didn’t confirm anything. If anything you can use this to your advantage, Les. Plus, ever since those boys in California isn’t meta all the rage? Lean into it.” Eugene said and Leslie actually considered it for a moment.

Meta was popular, it was modern and true while convention and tradition was important, newness always had to be introduced to keep things fresh and exciting, preventing things from going stale or stagnant was a must and it isn’t like he didn’t enjoy it, like or see the appeal of it. A chance to dabble more into it was exciting. Plus, Eugene hadn’t steered him wrong yet, he still had some lingering doubts, he asked, “Do you really think I can still pull this off with her being aware?”

Jamie had been listening intently from the kitchen, she had been plating up some cookies that she baked earlier that afternoon. She came into the living room, saying, “Leslie, c’mon now, if anyone can do this it’s you.”

She held the plate and offered it up to Eugene who took a cookie with a thank you. She set the plate on the coffee table in front of Leslie before perching herself on the arm of Eugene’s chair. He slipped an arm around her waist and she pressed a kiss to the top of his head with a smile as Leslie responded, “Yeah?”

Eugene responded enthusiastically, “Yes! You’re very smart, think of it as a challenge! Trying to pull one over on her when she is suspecting you and thinks she knows what is coming, it’s a chance for-” Jamie cut in, saying, “Growth.”

“Yes, exactly, a chance for growth, thank you.” Eugene praised with a squeeze of his arm around her, “Just think of how amazing it would feel to stick this landing. I think you are more than ready for something like this.”

He leaned forward, picked up a cookie, hunger, excitement and passion was reignited as he started, “Okay so help me out, which misdirect do you think would be better?”

The afternoon was spent then on planning just how he could get a leg up on you.

He had to play this just right, had to be careful and take it easy, he took even more precautions but you just kept figuring shit out.

No matter how well he hid, no matter the subtlety, there you were, picking up on it. He wondered if you were fucking with him, truly aware or it was just dumb fucking luck at some point. There would be some small moment that would make you stop, look around, and then somehow, inexplicably, look in his direction, point down to the clue he left in hopes of placing a quiet suggestion to pull you and your friends to the Vernon farm and you pointed down to it, before giving a thumbs up and mouthing to him, “Nice!”

Then there was the night he actually scared you all in person, in full garb and everyone else’s faces were marred with a truly horrified expression but you were smiling so hard it looked like it hurt your cheeks, everyone else was so distracted they didn’t notice you clapping a little in your overeager thrill. But he noticed. He couldn’t stop noticing every little thing about you.

It was infuriating.

It was exhilarating.

You hadn’t said anything to your friends. They were all totally ignorant, he wondered why, did you not care for them? Did you seriously think he wouldn’t go through with this? Or did you fear if you spilled the beans that this game would end? You really, really wanted to see this one through to the end and that pushed him further.

When the night arrived he was feeling a whole host of emotions, anxiety, nervousness, but mostly, he felt ready, proud, over the moon happy and joyfully enamoured with the entire process coming to a head. Tonight was even better because of your probing and pushing, it forced him to take this outing to greater heights and he would be lying if he said he wasn’t thankful for that.

The night itself was very surprising.

A few good twists and turns, some more improv and quick on his feet thinking but overall, it was going fantastically. Your friends were dropping like flies, there were many scares and running and screaming and yet you were still not that shaken for a seriously annoyingly long time until you came across your friends bodies in person.

That managed to shake you.

It was a very satisfying moment for Leslie.

Seeing you actually scared, that cute little smile falling, the terror washing over your features, permeating into your eyes, God, it was just so delicious. It had him wanting more.

Picking a favourite moment during this event was tricky. There was something to be said for the way blood splattered across the front of his outfit, the heat of salty iron contrasting against the cold fall air, or the pathetic sounds your friend made when he broke their neck from hanging them, but the best is of course, obvious.

That second when you knew it was you. That one thing you hadn’t been able to work out, the one thing you hadn’t managed to figure out, who was meant to face off with him, who was the final girl? It took you entirely too long to realise that it was you.

Witnessing the change he brought out in you was everything he felt he needed. The chase was a good one, you made your way through the orchard beautifully, strides had a good amount of confidence to them but the occasional stumble, sneakers slipping on mud did more for him than he thought even his vocabulary could capture. When you broke out of the orchard, frantically looking around, you called out to him, arms out, proclaiming you were ready.

It was very “I Know What You Did Last Summer.” but you didn’t care, cliches be damned, this felt real and right in the moment. “I’m right here! I know you want me, Vernon! What are you waiting for?!”

Weren’t you so bold? Of course he picked up on the reference, he appreciated it, helped solidify it was the right choice. He sneaks around, watching you carefully and when he was right behind you he came forward, he played it just right, making sure to step on a twig and snapped it audibly enough for you to hear. Your head snaps to the side, eyes wide and you see him a few seconds before his hands are on you, a curse and your body jerks away, hands gripping the weapon you held tighter you try to turn as fast as possible to face him.

You nearly trip on your own feet in the process but you manage, you stare up into that blue-grey mask, into those dark soulless voids that made up where the eyes should be and you breathed out, gaze hard and face lined with concentration and determination, “Finally. I’ve been dying for you to show up.”

He was thankful for the mask, if not for it you might have seen how he was unable to stop his lips from almost twitching up into a smile and that might ruin the mood. He loved this, the fight you have been putting up, the little jokes, the aspects and bits of you that had been shifting, changing, clicking just so into place to become this new person he knew you could be. He wanted to say something back but he knew it wasn’t right, not the correct moment. The tension was thick, you could feel the weight of his stare even though you couldn’t actually see his eyes, and the next moment happened, the one he’d been craving, aching for God knows how long in pure anticipation to experience.

You swung at him.

Thick and heavy two by four laden with rusty nails that threatened tetanus gripped between your hands came towards him with an impressive speed and the fight began. The first blow was deflected but it still hurt, the way and the angle it hit his forearm causing a small shock of pain to his system.

You weren’t deterred. You swung again and again, he swung back, managed to get a few blows in, your face was going to be a little worse for wear. You tasted blood and were thankful your teeth all seemed intact.

The last strike managed to hit him hard. A few of those bent and twisted nails bit into his palm when he reached out and managed to grab onto it. He held back the hiss of pain, blood spilled, leaked through the puncture wounds of the nails and down his wrist and arm, he took advantage however and ripped the wood from your hands. He used his other hand to remove it, pulling hard to release the embedded nails, he flung the improvised weapon aside, and you managed to surprise him again, a small look away when he threw it meant that when he looked back he wasn’t counting on you racing towards him, you charged him with a yell. Your arms around his waist, hands locked behind his lower back as you tackled him, the slippery mud had already made your scuffle difficult when standing but you launching yourself with this much force makes his bare feet slide, your weight thrown into him makes him topple and he falls.

It hurt you both, he landed on your wrists and you groaned from the pain, he grunted, wind slightly knocked out of him as well as the sensation of freezing cold muck already seeping into the holes in his shirt. You don’t stop, you need to keep this momentum, you were still in disbelief that you had gotten the drop on him, you pulled your arms out from under him, scrambling so you were sitting up, knees on either side, straddling him. He didn’t waste time either, even with you on top of him his hand found its way to your throat, grip hard, managing a good hold even with the slick scarlet straining his hand but your own hand barely faltered, as you fumble along his side. He knows what you are after, his other hand joins the first and he squeezes, air is stolen, eyes want to roll back, you don’t give up.

The lack of air begins to take hold quickly, his grip is bruising, he has so much strength, he could crush your windpipe if the angle was slightly different, if you weren’t sitting fully up right on him. You are mindful to sit straight as much as you can, if you lean forward you know he could do you in, your hand feels and just as you are truly struggling to breath your hand finds it. Fingers latched onto the well worn wooden handle and you pull it towards you, stealing his sickle from where it was resting on his hip previously and you look down at him, holding the weapon, his weapon, to his throat.

A stand off with his hands on your neck and the curved blade pressing into his and you were praying he’d break first. His hands loosened when you broke the skin, his hands didn’t lift but they did ease, sucking down a few deep breaths you keep your eyes on him.

“I’ll do it.” You heaved, hair partially in your face, sweaty and smeared with mud and blood, looking down at him, “Don’t think I won’t.”

He knew you could. But would you?

Your hips shift and he thinks you might be adjusting, gearing up to do just that but that first move, it was just that, the first of many. It starts easy, a slow rock, “When I knew you were really going to go through with this, I got so excited.”

A laugh breaks out, his hands slip further, truly captivated as you speak while sat astride him, “I mean it is pretty unbelievable. Being cast in a real life horror movie without even being aware I was ever auditioning?” You muse for a moment that your life was the audition you supposed, you continue speaking, “It’s like a dream, a sick, fucked up, totally twisted dream.”

More moves, an outright roll of your hips and holy shit the realisation hits like a truck, you were grinding on him, you were getting off on this. “You really threw yourself into this! Gave your all, you had us all running scared, trying to figure out where this was going, picking it apart? It’s been ruling my thoughts for weeks.”

A quiet hum leaves you, it appears the seam of your jeans was doing everything for you and surely you had to feel the predicament you were putting him in, he was hanging off your every word, choking you long forgotten as he was starting to strain in his overalls. “Even with all my fantasising about this, I never, ever would have imagined I was the one for you, that I was the one you were doing this for, that it was MY attention you were trying to catch.”

Another strong buck of your hips and a quiet moan slips out before you admit, “Well you sure got it.”

The urge to touch was too great, his hands locked onto your shoulders and he moves too, grinds up into you and you gasp. Your grip on the handle tightened, you forced your hand down harder, the small split in his skin deepened, blood welling up, beginning to pool in the hollow of his throat and he groaned. “That was the one move you coulda made safely without me slashing your throat wide open so good job.”

You squirm on top of him, “But you're playing a dangerous game here. Better not move any other part of yourself or I’ll watch the life drain out of you right here.”

This isn’t at all what he was expecting.

Would he have loved for this shift to happen between you both eventually? Of course! But on the first night? You holding his weapon to his neck, about to slide deep and ruin him, all while grinding your clothed cunt on his almost painfully hard dick, still trapped in the fabric covering himself, it had him throbbing with need, it was too good to pass up. You’d already been showing him over and over again that true planning was good, necessary, but being able to work on the fly, improv, rolling with the punches had undeniable appeal and deserved its own place.

So fuck the timing not being what he had initially thought it would be, he let himself indulge.

The pair of you work together. A precarious and tentative dance, you and he were unable to look away from one another as you ground down and he moved up, working on stimulating yourselves and each other. Leslie was wrecked under you in short order. He had fucked people, of course he had but somehow, some way, this, right now, fully dressed and rutting against each other, caked in dirt and blood on the wet muddy grass just outside the orchard was by far the hottest thing he had ever experienced.

The reasons as to why were all too obvious. The night, the exchange of power, the first overt expression of your sexuality that he was bearing witness to, the fact it was directed at him. You threatening his life with the sickle you stole off his hip with startling confidence and you, just, fuck, you.

It was doing his head in. Felt like he was somewhere between swimming and drowning, alive and electric. He was panting behind his mask, his breathing matching yours in pace and pitch as he watched, your brow creased, split bottom lip from where he had landed a good hit on you earlier tucked between your teeth.

He watches the pleasure play out over your face, the emotion tinting in your eyes, you reach forward with your other hand, fingers hook under the bottom of his mask and he tries to turn his head to prevent you seeing his face. He wants it on, wants the game to continue, doesn't want to break the fantasy, you grunt, a shake of your head, “Uh-uh. Don’t fight it.”

Another push of the sickle makes him relent, a reminder you could end this right here, he doesn’t want that, not yet, not till you fall apart on top of him. He allows you to peel his mask away, tossing it aside. You look down on his sweat stained and made up face. “There you are.”

You looked pleased to see him, really see him as he was. He pressed down on your shoulders, forced you tighter to him, making it so the grinding on one another was stronger, more pressure, better.

"Can't hide from me." It leaves you as if it is the sweetest melody, sing-songy and caught in the no-mans-land between a laugh and a moan as you swirl your hips.

The moans were breaking up your panting, you struggle to keep pace, and were you really going to? Was he going to get to not only see you cum while grinding yourself on him but be the reason that you experience such pleasure for the first time from another person?

It proved too much. He is dragged to the edge in the blink of an eye.

His own head thrown back, hitting the damp ground, tendons in his arms and neck flex, sweat trailing down his temple and the tension breaks. A groan leaves him, his own hips stuttering up into you, eyes can’t leave as you watch him cum into the tight denim concealing him. Your own end is sealed by the knowledge that you made the big bad killer who gutted all your friends tonight bust in his overalls like he was a nervous and inexperienced teenager.

“I got you.” You taunted, breathlessly before you tumble over the edge into hard earned bliss.

Your peak hits with a weak whimper, the pleasure spikes, back arching and even with your clammy and trembling hand, you manage to move it. You pull, dragging the tip that had already broken the skin earlier slice through. He hadn’t even truly finished cumming when you slashed, you were mid-orgasm yourself when you slowly split his throat open. The move was from left to right and when you reached the opposite side from where you started you jerk the sickle and with a flourish it pulls free, blood splatters over you just as it had to him earlier.

Another roll of your hips, drawing out your pleasure as much as possible, wringing out every ounce of sensation possible from your pulsing clit trapped against your soaked underwear. Your mouth is open, you taste salt and unfiltered him across as your tongue, feel his grip loosen, the sounds of him choking on his own blood and struggling to breathe acting as the soundtrack for your climax, a feast for your eyes as you watch the life drain from him under you, just like you promised earlier.

Sensation reaches it's natural end as does he.

Your hips slow and then eventually stop. Your chest rising and falling, you attempt to catch your breath, you drop his sickle beside him, it hits the ground with a thump .The bloody back of your hand wipes over your forehead, it smears crimson against the slick skin as you move your hair aside. You stay there for a moment.

Just looking down at him.

Taking it all in.

The cool evening air on your skin, the quietness of it all now that the struggle is over, the sense of finality.

You make yourself get up on shaky legs, you move off of him and turn to leave him behind.

Before the entrance of the orchard you pause. A bite of your already hurting bottom lip you can’t help yourself. You turn, look over your shoulder and see he is no longer there. The only clue of your struggle and his body is flattened grass and spilled blood.

A laugh tears out, it makes you roll your eyes fondly, hands stuck in your jeans pockets, you turn forward again, start to walk the way you came in, as you call out, “You son of a bitch, I’ll get you next time!”

You leave with the taste of him still lingering on your tongue, outfit, including your underwear, completely ruined.

He was nearby, already wrapping his throat to stop the bleeding. You did a decent job but you didn’t cut nearly deep enough and missed the major arteries, all the same it was impressive, he couldn’t be happier. Even with the pain, the shaking fingers that were rushing to cover his wound, he smiled. This was going to scar up nicely, the first memento he got to keep from a hopefully long back and forth as slasher and final girl.

He took off, hand on his throat, holding white that was steadily staining red, making his way to Eugene and Jamie’s to get stitched up properly. He thought about what you called out, he hoped you would get him even worse next time. If you were so smart and savvy your first time out, he can only imagine how you are going to be the following outing you shared, he’d need to plan well, step his game up if he had any hope of measuring up.

You did have very high expectations and he’d be damned if he couldn’t meet them.

Were it not for how much he was hurting and the fear that if he did that it would worsen his bleeding he’d be humming, “So This Is Love.”, as the events of the evening already wanted to replay over his mind.

#BHF writing #BHF asks #Slasher X reader #leslie vernon x reader #I LOVE THIS ONE Y'ALL #HOPE YOU DO TOO

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i-did-not-mean-to · 2 months

Text

YOTP - March

Ah! I might be crawling on my hands and knees, but I shall give you the monthly OTP nevertheless.

I love you all very much, and I hope you can forgive me for being so absent (and absent-minded) lately. Life is getting a bit much for me...

Either way, have two grumpy singers!

Pairing: Daeron x Maglor

Prompts: Fresh starts, Road Trip, Getting back together/mutual pining, "make me", acceptance, fairy tale AU (of sorts)

Words: 2515

Warnings: Sadness, unprocessed grief, a kiss, Modern AU

“Princess,” Daeron singsonged, irony dripping like acid from his melodious voice. “Your carriage awaits!”

“Fuck off,” Maglor replied in an uncharacteristically gruff hiss and swept past the unfairly tall, light-haired nuisance with what he envisioned as regal equanimity.

Glaring at the small, frantically blinking light at the far end of the luxurious caravan, he wedged himself behind the steering wheel and suppressed a shivering sigh.

After millennia of resentful solitude, his boredom had finally gotten the better of him, and—dusting off his long-forgotten impish streak—the last surviving son of Fëanor had ultimately given in to the temptation of singing again.

The world around him had, of course, changed drastically, and so he had found himself in an endless, milling queue for what was generally known as a “casting show”. Oh! The indignity!

With the rise and fall of one-hit-wonders and the increasing popularity of self-produced clips on various platforms, the format was ailing, and he had felt strangely touched by the faded glory of a dying genre—the dramatic flair of bittersweet nostalgia had always appealed to him, after all.

Never could he have predicted the shock and amazement that had washed through him upon discovering a familiar face amongst the sea of strangers, all of them impatiently waiting to get their fleeting moment in the sun.

Daeron of Doriath had grinned wistfully. “Alive, yeah?”

Even now, as his knuckles were white and tense around the cheap imitation of black leather, Maglor was overcome with helpless ire as he recalled that callous greeting.

His own heart had given a painful lurch, and his tongue had felt heavy and unwieldy in his dry mouth.

In truth, he resented Daeron for having had the readiness of mind to quip however feebly and half-heartedly when he had been struggling to even draw breath.

Evidently, Maglor had heard rumours about Daeron’s disappearance, and—while the world was in the throes of the Black Death—he had even attempted to do some discreet investigations, but he had never expected to behold that sharp-featured, unbearably impassive face in person again.

Once upon a time, they had shared a few torrid nights of illicit pleasure, and Maglor had always liked to think that they would have made for good long-term lovers, had things been different.

As history had played out, though, too many grievous deeds of treason and murder had ultimately fallen like unforgiving scythes between Daeron’s people and his own, and they had been torn apart before their fragile bond had ever truly knitted.

Many a time, Maglor—overcome with loneliness and longing—had assured himself that it had been for the best, despite the nagging sting of persistent doubt at the back of his mind.

“Do you ever think of the fairy tale ending we didn’t get?”

Maglor’s eyes widened as the sharp jerk of Daeron’s head made him realise that he had spoken these words aloud.

In his former life, he had been known to love causing a stir, but he now resented himself for having betrayed his own resolution not to give the vultures of the TV show any material they could cut and mangle into some melodramatic narrative of mutual pining and inevitable heartbreak.

As was to be expected of two musical heroes of another time, Daeron and he had passed the initial try-outs with flying colours, and the producer—who seemed more interested in a marketable storyline than in actual skill—had promptly decided that they were to share a camping car to a yet undisclosed location where the first “challenge” would be held.

Having performed in desolate war camps and in front of highly spoiled, complacent audiences alike, Maglor was fundamentally unafraid of the potential discontentment of a few blatantly unarmed mortals which, quite naturally, only contributed to his popularity with the viewers of the sensationalist show.

His frantically cheery demeanour, especially in juxtaposition with Daeron’s almost hostile aloofness, had thus immediately captured the hearts and minds of the faceless, nameless spectators behind innumerable screens all across the world.

Unfortunately, neither one of them, having always been reasonably popular, had had the good sense to refuse this arrangement, which meant that they were now perched together in a structurally unsound box of laughably thin metal that was hurtling down bumpy streets towards an undoubtedly underwhelming destination.

After a long moment of silently toying with the grotesque collection of porcelain dolls, plush toys, and ragdolls Maglor seemed to carry around like talismans or voodoo dolls, Daeron scoffed.

“Why, Káno, don’t write us off just yet. Returned from oblivion and obsolescence, here we are, competing once more,” he rasped. Maglor took his eyes off the road to witness the mocking twinkle in those enchantingly unfathomable eyes.

Oh, Daeron had always loved speaking in riddles, and nothing amused him more than to harp on the subtext of a situation until its thrumming strings screamed their protest.

Bowing his head in a poor imitation of gratitude, Maglor narrowed his eyes to flashing slivers of bared steel.

“Isn’t that how these tales go?” Daeron chortled. “The princess, singing mournful songs by the raging sea, and the lost knight finding her at the very last moment. I seem to remember a story of a daring prince who found his paramour—captured and detained by dragons and evil monsters—by singing to his lost love. Are you familiar with it?”

This time, Maglor gave an audible grunt. The naked pain vibrating in the sound made Daeron press his lips together as if he could recall the hasty, cruel words he had just unleashed.

“Forget I’ve said anything,” he hissed. “The years have not been kind to my mind.”

Again, Daeron tapped his fingertip against the pale cheek of an antique figurine of a flame-haired angel. “Nelyafinwë Maitimo,” he whispered as if to call one who could no longer hear neither curses nor praise.

With a choked sound of raw emotion, Maglor wrenched around the steering wheel dangerously. “I haven’t heard their names for so long, spoken by a voice that isn’t mine. Forgive me…”

“I have bought your paintings, by the way,*” Daeron confessed, drawn into the depthless pool of the other’s unexpected vulnerability as easily now as that first time they had met under a new moon. “It took me centuries to find them all, but they’re safe with me.”

“Sometimes,” he then disjointedly answered that involuntary question, hanging like a raincloud between them, in a sober, startlingly beautiful whisper. “At times, when the night is oppressive and starless, and the wind sings dirges of another era, yes, then I think of you and of all that might have been.”

Maglor had expected mockery and scalding disdain, but Daeron’s candid reply, drenched in blood and unshed tears, left him speechless as he stared sightlessly at the road unwinding like a drab, greyish ribbon before him.

For what felt like an eternity, they just sat in silence as the empty, barren landscape flew past them.

In their former life, there would have been loud, competitive singing, but they seemed to agree that whatever they shared was too fragile and precious to drag it out into the open under the dispassionate, greedy eye of a soulless camera.

“Maybe we should take a break,” Daeron said suddenly, almost making Maglor veer off the road again with shock as that old-familiar, powerful voice rattled him like a shockwave.

He nodded shakily—usually, he was better at observing and emulating the little weaknesses of the incarnates amongst which they were hiding, but his mind had been obsessively dissecting every minute detail of Daeron’s confession.

Indubitably, a mere human would need to stretch their legs and rest their eyes after hours of driving! Maglor resented himself for not having thought of it himself, and—never one to forego a challenge—he added cheerily that he could indeed do with a snack.

A tiny twitch passed over Daeron’s face—was it exasperated disbelief or earnest amusement?—but he, in turn, nodded as if he did not know that the blessed and cursed prince of the Ñoldor could have covered the distance their rickety caravan had just crossed without resting or eating. “Sure, we can go for a walk.”

They chuckled quietly in unison, remembering with heartbroken melancholy how mercilessly they had once been berated for their half-hearted dissembling and open petulance.

Again, they seemed to concur that they’d bear much worse than the tasteless, guileless prying of a ruthless producer if it meant that they could weather the devastatingly deserved displeasure of their lost loved ones once more.

Alas, they were alone in this world, and thus they could be as dishonest in their demeanour as they wanted.

The playful duplicity and leisurely prevarication that had once been a harmless affectation had seemingly turned into a dire necessity throughout the ages, though, and Daeron rubbed his thumb distractedly across the pendant—old, golden wood, engraved in a language few could read nowadays—as Maglor pulled into a near-empty parking lot.

They moved slowly and clumsily as they exited the parked trailer, masterfully emulating the signs of fatigue and stiffness they’d observed in friends and foes countless times.

“Do you really want to walk?” Maglor asked. Haven’t we walked enough? Even though that second, slightly bitter question never made it past his lips, Daeron could easily discern it between the lines.

“Yes—didn’t you say that you were hungry?” He looked famished, Daeron thought with a pang of agonising nostalgia and resentful pity.

He remembered the soft, full silhouette of Kanafinwë, blessed song of Fëanáro’s and Nerdanel’s love, and he shivered with dismay at the sight of the unbecomingly gaunt, hollow-cheeked creature stalking past him.

This fading shadow of a once glorious prince looked like something cut out of a cheap fashion magazine, paper-thin and oddly flat, which undoubtedly impressed foolish girls and shallow youngsters who, of course, had no way of knowing that Maglor had once possessed the kind of beauty neither song nor hefty tome might ever have captured or encompassed.

“Let me buy you a sandwich,” he said with a forced grin and elbowed Maglor in the ribs. “You look like you need it!”

“A soggy sandwich from a vending machine?” Maglor made a face. “I remember the amazing feasts you used to prepare for me. Do you?”

Clenching his teeth to keep the wailing dirge of lost love—bewept and interred so many ages ago—from bursting from his lips in a hailstorm of fire and blood, Daeron nodded tersely. “You called me ‘nightingale’ then, and you loved the bittersweet taste of the pale berries that only grew in our shadowy meadows,” he whispered. “I remember.”

A barking, unsteady laugh escaped Maglor. “They were like you—complex, acrid, and delicious. I—”

They had reached the edge of the bare, bleak cement desert and sat down under a gnarled, greyish tree that had lost all its colour and vitality in the constant haze of exhaust fumes and empty souls.

“Should I go check whether they have a fresh sandwich for you?” Daeron broke the silence that thrummed like a single chord vibrating endlessly between them. “You don’t look much like the lark I once loved anymore, but you still sound the same.”

Maglor’s head snapped up in a sharp jerk. He had not thought of that silly nickname in a literal eternity—at least as far as everyone around him was concerned—and hearing it spoken so tenderly pierced his heart.

“Lark,” he repeated slowly. “Because I was so loud and annoying.”

“Because you were the herald of dawn, of light, of hope!” Daeron contradicted gruffly.

“Who brought death and destruction, never you forget.” Averting his eyes from the shining hero of his unfinished fairy tale, Maglor felt a surge of that age-old despair and weariness crawling up his clogged throat.

“We did that quite well on our own.” Shrugging lopsidedly—a little too fast to fully hide the lingering echoes of unprocessed feelings of resentment and desire—Daeron gave a long-drawn, distinctly miserable sigh. “Either way, it’s done and over. Your kings and mine, the fair maidens we disappointed and deserted, the kin we betrayed…they’re all gone and won’t come back any time soon. Might as well eat that sandwich, what say you? I want you to eat something—I’ve always loved watching you eat!”

“Make me!” The right corner of Maglor’s mouth twitched, and just as Daeron decided that he’d accept this as consent and wanted to jog back to the small, rancid store they’d passed by on their way to the lonely tree, all the air was knocked out of his lungs.

“You said…you said I loved Doriath’s berries and…that you’d loved me,” Maglor whispered tremulously.

Maybe it was the rare quality of his voice or perhaps it was Daeron’s exceptional hearing, but these words seemed to swell into a deafening crescendo, underscored by the roaring of the blood in his temples and ears.

He had stupidly let this slip, hadn’t he?

“I admit that the past tense, no matter how deserved, wounds me,” the fallen prince admitted in a low, trembling voice.

“No—” Daeron took a deep, audible breath. “That was a long time ago, and many things have changed, haven’t they?”

Crestfallen, the other—still so beautiful underneath the tarnished patina of faded glory—nodded. “I guess all things must change. Nevertheless, your voice still makes my heart skip a beat, so I guess some precious fragments of our previous lives stay blessedly untouched by the ravages of war and the unrelenting destruction of time.”

Daeron could have said a million things—he wanted to object and argue—but, instead, he simply closed his cool palms around Maglor’s drawn face and pulled him in a soft, tender kiss.

As their eyes closed, lids fluttering wildly, they could almost feel the gentle, fragrant winds of a faraway verdant forest caress their clammy brow, and echoes of songs that had not been played in millennia filled the cool air.

That first kiss was as delicate as butterfly wings, but it shifted the world off its axis irrevocably, nevertheless.

“We’re no longer who we once were…and that might be for the better,” Daeron breathed against those sweet, poisonous lips. “But—as that greasy executive didn’t tire of pointing out—we each have a compellingly tragic backstory, fraught with mystery and misery, that only we know about. Let me recite the names of your brothers to you while we hold on to what is left of us.”

“Sandwiches and sad songs?” Maglor teased feebly. “How the mighty have fallen!”

“Whatever you want, princess. It’s just you and me, left stranded in this decrepit, dying world. At the edge of time, afloat in the everlasting darkness of self-imposed isolation, we remain.”

“Are you saying that it is time to go home? Together?” Reluctance and longing wrought a complex melody that echoed through their souls, reviving old grievances and immortal affection.

“Not yet, darling. Let’s give them a show…” Daeron whispered. “One last encore before the final curtain, what say you, my lark?”

* If you want the spin-off story of Daeron travelling around to find and purchase (steal, blackmail, and do crime in general) Maglor's paintings, let me know!

Thank you for bearing with me! Lots of love!

-> Masterlist

#og post #Fanfiction #writing #IDNMT writes #jrrt #Tolkien fanfiction #YOTP #yotp 2023 prompts #DaeMags #Daeron #Maglor #March #Fresh Starts #Road Trip #Fairy tale AU #Getting back together #Mutual pining #Make me #Acceptance

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mamibaddie · 2 years

Text

When The Heart Beats || Vampire!Eddie Munson x Reader

Chapter 4: Take Me to Church

Authors Note: Surprise! I decided to upload the next chapter early just cause. This is my first time writing smut so please be gentle! (No pun intended.) please let me know what you think. ☺️❤️✨ I don’t consent to my work being stolen, published else where, or translated. Minors DNI.

Here’s a link to chapter 3

Warnings: blood, language, smut!!!, blood kink, slight knife kink (if you squint), cunnilingus, spit kink, vampire activities. 18+ only!!!

You wrung out a raw piece of steak for the fourth time today. Ever since you found out what Eddie truly is, you’ve been helping him feed. You thought it’d be easy, buying raw meat from the grocery store and keeping stacks of it in your refrigerator and freezer but it’s grown to be too much. It’s been a week since he came back. He’s been hiding in your attic ever since. The townspeople believe him to be a murderer and the crew believe he’s dead, it was…somewhat easier this way. But you could tell Eddie was getting antsy. He’d always want to go with you to the grocery store or drop you off at work, you were confused at first. Vampires couldn’t go out in the daylight but he said,

“I can go out, just for a limited time.”

Which made somewhat sense, maybe not everything is exactly as they say it is in folklore. He wanted to go outside… and he wanted to feed more and more.

You were worried about him getting caught. Until one evening you seen him out by the grocery store. You walked over to him in a fast pace, trying not to draw too much attention to yourself. You grabbed him by the arm.

“What are you doing?! Are you insane?! Someone could see you!”

He shrugged,

“doesn’t seem like it.”

He motioned around you both. You looked and people were actually minding their business. As if Eddie’s face hadn’t been plastered all over the news and town. He began to talk while you kept looking around in amazement, “That’s one of my other powers that I have.”

You turned and looked at him.

“Not only can I look into peoples heads, I can make them…think differently…I can make them do things.”

You looked at him in amazement and shock. You didn’t know what to say or think because now, it seemed as though what happened with Eddie, never happened in the first place.

You thought back to the night he came back. After his shower, you notice how there’s nothing there. No bite marks from the bats. His neck is clear, the marks from strangulation were nonexistent. You knew he was a vampire, but you didn’t know the extent of his abilities. It both astounded and terrified you at the same time. While his abilities continued to grow, so didn’t his hunger. There was only so much meat in Hawkins that you can acquire without looking suspicious. You even resorted to driving a little out of Hawkins to get more meat. It never seemed like it was enough. Eddie began to complain.

“I just don’t understand why I can’t feed?!” He growled. It was late at night when you both were having this conversation.

“You know why, it’s not…morally correct… it’s safer for you to do it this way.”

“Safer for who? Y/N… there are people out there who…aren’t good people.”

You looked him in shock. You understood what he was insinuating and it wasn’t like it was untrue. But that doesn’t make it right. Your silence must’ve been enough for him because he sighed and said,

“The blood from the meat doesn’t… satisfy me…the way human blood does.”

You looked at each other for a while, then you blinked and turned to look out the window. It didn’t feel right to keep him cooped up in this house, but what could you do?

It wasn’t until that night when you both lie down to sleep. Well, mostly you because Eddie doesn’t sleep and when he does, it’s typically in the day time. He looked at you with those big, beautiful doe eyes of his. The ones you absolutely adore. He only wore his boxers to bed with you. His entire body now a few shades paler than before. You remembered after his shower, you noticed how there’s nothing there. No bite marks from the bats. His neck was clear, the marks from strangulation were nonexistent. Everything was absolutely gone, as if it never happened at all.

If it weren’t for the bloodthirsty appetite he now has, you would’ve convinced yourself that it was all a dream. As you were drawing little circles into Eddie’s arms. He decided to break the silence.

“I don’t know how much more animal blood I can take.”

You stopped and looked up at him. “Why? What’s wrong with it?” You asked quietly.

“It’s….too stale and bland… it’s not enough anymore.”

You sat up in bed and looked away, twisting your head to where your neck was on full display for Eddie. He sorta heard you, but your voice was becoming more and more distant. All he could focus on was that one vein that was prominent in your neck.

He tried to hold hisself off. Your natural scent was just so alluring, so inviting. He had caught himself numerous times inhaling your scent while you were asleep. He couldn’t help it, even when he was a human, he had woken up before in the middle of the night and would admire you while you slept. He didn’t think it was weird, he’d never do anything to you that wasn’t consensual. He just found you to be entirely ethereal. The more he focused on that vein, the more he became aware of everything.

He can hear your heart beat faster, he can even see the blood coursing through your veins. It looked like a dark red iridescent color, bumping through you. By this time you just roll your eyes and lay back in bed. Everything you said went in one ear and out the other. He blinks fast and tries to shake it off. Before he gave into his desires, he turns away fast and bites his own wrist in an attempt to fight off his insatiable hunger. You jump up and lean over to him.

“Eddie stop!”

He continues on and it scares you.

“Eddie stop it! Please!”

You rip his wrist from himself. The wound already began to slowly heal as if nothing ever happened. “I’m just so hungry…” he says with a shaky voice.

“What did you do before this? Before you visited me?”

He just looks at you, as if he was peering into your soul.

“Eddie…?”

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you…” he said.

“You came back from the dead… we’re way beyond belief.”

He explained what he had to do. How he put people in trances and sucked their blood… but only enough to satisfy him. He never turned or killed anyone. You had assumed it was animal meat. The same blood you’ve been feeding him. It all made sense after hearing what people at your work was saying. How people would lose track of time and wake up in strange places disoriented.

“What else can I do?” He said. You thought for a second, you’d do anything for Eddie. So, what you were about to say isn’t that far fetched, at least, not to you.

“You can feed from me.”

He looked up with glassy, wide eyes.

“No…no… I can’t do that.” He said, shaking his head

“Why not?”

“Because…. Because what if I lose control?”

“You won’t. I trust you.”

You said. He stayed quiet. You got up and walked over to your dresser. You dig in a drawer and pulled out the knife he got you for your birthday one year, “to protect yourself when I’m not around” he once said. You walked over to the bed and took your shorts off. His eyes began to get wide. You turned your leg open and sliced a small cut it in. The blood slowly began to trickle out of the cut. You looked at Eddie and seen his eyes begin to dilate.

“Drink from me.”

He began to slowly crawl over to you on the bed, keeping eye contact with the blood that was trickling down your thigh.

“Are you sure?” He Whispered. “I’m positive.” You reply.

He slowly got off the bed and got on his knees in front of you. He slowly started to lick up your leg, starting from the side of your knee cap to where the cut was formed. All while keeping eye contact. Your breath started to falter. You should feel sick to your stomach but all you could feel was a warmth pull in your lower region. He started to suck at the cut. He took one of his nails that grew at an alarming rate and was about to add a puncture right by the cut when he looked at you, silently asking you for your permission. You nodded and he dug his nail into your thigh. You silently yelped. You didn’t know if Eddie noticed or not, so enchanted by the blood flow and how good you tasted. He let out small moans while drinking from you.

“You’re so sweet baby, fuck, I could drink from you forever.”

He drank from you a little more before he looked back up at you. “You’re turned on, aren’t you?” You felt a warmth settle across your face.

“How’d you-“

“I can smell you. Your pretty pussy is crying for me. Don’t worry, my fair maiden. I’ll take care of you.”

Before you knew it, he grabbed both sides of your hips, picked you up, and moved you to the bed. He pulled your panties to the side and slowly licked a stripe up your pussy to your clit. His eyes rolled back.

“So sweet” he murmured before he dove into your heat.

He ate you out with the reverence of a man at the altar. Moaning and groaning against you. The slurps and growls coming from him were almost obscene but you were no better. The bump of his nose against your clit felt so good. You began to buck against him slightly.

“I thought about this ever since I’ve been back…”

He said, more to himself than to you.

“I thought about making you come undone with a flick of my tongue. Making you squirm underneath me, feeling your tight cunt squeeze me.”

You let out a moan and threw your head back. Your back started to arch and you were whimpering. Eddie was always good at cunnilingus. He always knew the right spots to drive you crazy. But this was so much more than that. By now, your thighs had several trickles of blood coming down them and to the side. All connecting to Eddie’s mouth. He followed one stream with his tongue. The sight alone was so erotic, it brought you over the edge. Eddie took noticed and moved to your pussy, drinking up everything you had to offer.

“Didn’t take you for the type to have a blood kink. My pretty, innocent woman. All for me.”

He said, keeping his eyes on you.

“Think you can give me another?”

You nodded your head. “Please E-Eddie. Please make me cum again.”

He crawled up your body. He nuzzled his nose against yours. Both of your eyes closed.

“Let me hear you say it baby.”

He pulled away and looked into your eyes. You were confused at first, but the longer you looked into his, you began to understand what he was asking for.

“Say you’re mine.”

“I’m yours Eddie,” you said with no hesitation. “I’m all yours and yours only.”

“That’s my pretty girl.”

He pulled you in for a kiss. It was deep and passionate but then slowly became needy and desperate. You both were moaning into each other’s mouth. He nipped your bottom lip with his fang. It hurt at first but slowly started to feel amazing the more Eddie kissed you. He was so desperate for your sweet taste. He look you bottom lip into his mouth and sucked on it. He let it go with a pop. He slowly kissed down your body, careful to not get too close to your neck. He moved from your shoulders, to your chest, and stomach. It was as if he was worshipping your body.

“A week being away from you has felt like an eternity, my love. But I’m here to make up for it.”

He slowly trailed his hand up your body, brushing against your clit before making his way back down, squeezing at your right tit. He focus on your nipple, gently twisting it between his fingers until it pebbled. He had left behind streaks of a mixture of your blood, essence, and his spit on your upper body. It awakened something primal in him.

“But that’s just one of the many fantasies I’ve had since.”

He removed himself from you which surprised you. He caressed your face with his cold hand.

”Open up for me baby.”

And you did. You didn’t know what for but you were too drunk from the feeling of his tongue to care. He slide his thumb in your mouth. It was mixed with your essence and blood.

“Get it nice and wet for me baby”. You closed your eyes and moaned. “Shit, you’re so fucking hot.”

His voice was now gravely, coated with lust. He pulled his thumb out with a loud pop! He placed it on your clit and your nerves went wild. He hummed.

“Doesn’t feel wet enough.” He slightly leaned over you and dropped his spit onto your clit, slowly dripping down to your soaked entrance. You felt your orgasm coming closer.

“I-I’m gonna cum Eddie… I- shit!” Instead of going faster, he went slower. Savoring every moment of your whimpers and desperation. He kept in time with his own hips. Humping the bed at the same pace he was eating you out at.“Fuck- you’re such a good girl. That’s it, cum for me baby. I want to feel you come undone around my tongue.”

He started to flick his tongue in and out of you. You started to buck your hips into his face, in a rhythmic time against him. It was enough to send you over the edge. It felt like you were on the verge of having an outer body experience. Your orgasm came over you in a crashing wave. You threw your arm over your face. You moaned, “Oh God….”

He pulled away from you. You looked up at him through the slits of your eyes, the moonlight hitting him just right enough to see the slightly possessive look in his eyes. His mouth covered with a mixture of your blood and essence with a small trail running down his neck. In this position, with the moonlight reflecting off his eyes, you were able to see the way his eyes turned. They were black with a red trim around it. His fangs on full display.

“Not God…” he said in a deep voice that felt as smooth as silk, “just me.”

Taglist: @capmedusa @lunar-flwr @celestixldarling @nxrdamp @da-disappointment @ratherdieasthedevil @saltysoftgrungeofscience @awesomesauce-abbie @sl-tfor-joseph-quinn @bb-eilish

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie the freak munson #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson smut #vampire!eddie munson x reader #vampire!eddie x reader #eddie munson x black!reader #eddie munson x female reader

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apricotbuncakes · 11 months

Text

Welcome Home AU Info & Masterlist

The At Dead of Night Au (or ADON AU for short)

This AU is based on the game At Dead of Night! The game and my AU have themes of Suicide, Child Neglect, Child Abuse, Child Death and Murder so please be cautious when reading/engaging with this AU! All posts I make about this AU will be labeled with appropriate warnings (based on the content of the post itself.

I’m do not have the energy to digitalize and color these yet so have my sketchbook sketches for now (color to be added later). I’ll draw better sketches later too.

Summary: The ADON AU follows Julie as she navigates an old and barely upkept hotel trying to free her friends (Eddie, Howdy and Frank) from locked hotel rooms. As she does so, she must help ghosts haunting the premises remember what happened to them, all while getting chased around by Wally (and the ghost possessing him)!

Wally Playfellow (Alive): Son of James Playfellow and Poppy Partridge (the latter by marriage). When he’s not possessed, he is a gentle and loving person. Although not very outgoing, he does love to preform on stage, preforming for children before bedtime and having a more adult themed show later in the evening. His stage name is Wally Darling.

James Playfellow (Dead): Father of Wally Playfellow and deceased husband to the late Poppy. He was manipulative to Wally and often used him for personal gains. His tactics grew to be more violent overtime, which resulted in his death where he was killed by {REDACTED}. The image above shows his form when he was alive. His mother was a puppet and his father was half puppet, resulting in him having more human features such as skin and a nose while still retaining black eyes and blue hair, like his mother's. His hair, despite being naturally blue, does grey as a human's would.

Poppy Partridge (Dead): Poppy is the mother of Wally Playfellow and deceased wife of James Playfellow. Although not biologically related, she considers herself to be Wally’s only mother (his previous one passing on after birth). Wally sees her the same way. After the death of her husband, she struggles with major anxiety and depressive episodes that leave her staying inside the hotel most days. She has to hire the help of Harvey Home, who then goes on to be the proprietor of the hotel. She takes the free time she has to be a doting and devoted mother to Wally.

Dr. Barnaby Beagle (Dead): A therapy dog that was hired by Poppy when Wally was a teenager to help him after his violent outburst got too much for Poppy to handle alone. Barnaby is genuine in his attempts at helping Wally, though in the end is unsuccessful in changing Wally’s mannerisms.

Fun Fact: Barnaby is the only Ghost to be still have his legs! It’s his personal choice to appear as such.

Harvey Home (Dead): Mr. Home was hired by Poppy to run the hotel since she was unable to. He and Wally rarely get along. When Wally was younger, Harvey simply dealt with the disrespect. As he got older he started to tolerate it less and less. Although incredibly patient under normal circumstances, Wally seems to bring out the worst in him. After all his hard work, Home was appointed the proprietor by Poppy. He gets to enjoy his position very little since he dies soon after he is appointed.

Sally Starlet (Dead): Sally and her family were frequent patrons of the hotel since her father traveled for work and often brought his family with him. Sally was familiar with the hotel and Wally. They used to play well together in the stage area. This is how Wally learned to love the spotlight. After Wally’s behavior begins to change, Sally drifted apart from him and often preferred to play on her own.

Julie Joyful (Alive): she is set to meet her friends Frank, Eddie, and howdy at the hotel before they go on a trip. Julie is the last to check in with her friends. She sees Wally attack Frank and runs downstairs to make it called the cops. The phone doesn’t work. She finds a scrying mirror, a compass and ghost speaker. The adventure begins.

Frank Frankly, Howdy Pillar, Eddie Dear (Unknown): All three arrived before Julie and were attacked one by one after a gentle refusal to watch Wally’s show that evening. Just like the friends in the original game, they are only a background motivator for Julie, and make no significant contributions to the series of events.

NOTES: Not all of the back stories from the games will transfer over identically to this AU. While a lot of the themes and ways of dying do indeed transfer over, this AU is not identical. A handful of things mentioned in the original game are not themes I want to add to this AU for personal reasons.

Boundaries for my AU

ADON AU Fanfiction

Chapter 1 Cover Art

Chapter 1 Funny Moments

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shadowbriar · 2 years

Text

Backburner - Eddie Munson

Pairing : (F/M) || Eddie Munson x Reader, Unrequited! Steve Harrington x Reader. Word Count : 3.2k Warning : Angst. You know what happened to Eddie. Notes : Inspired by Niki - Backburner. An ever ending loop of she’s chasing another, while he could only wait and love her in silent, praying that one day she’ll turn on her backburner.

Her breathing was hitched. Steve's telling of his six little nuggets dream was a clear confession of his undying affection towards Nancy. Even when he mentions no name, the way his eyes were glued on her as each words roll out of his tongue was a clear giveaway. No matter how many years have passed, he is still utterly and undeniably in love with her.

She averts her gaze to the road, trying to distract her mind from pitying herself too much that she might burst into tears How silly of her to have hoped that Steve might have changed his view of her. That he might tweaked his heart a little and piqued interest on her. The late night calls, how he sounded so lonely and sad every time he rings, were giving her the idea that perhaps, at last, he might have found comfort in her.

The kind of comfort you find in someone you.. Love.

A hand rests gently on top of hers. Eddie's calloused finger tips brushes her skin as he makes small circles, trying to show support. His eyes were evidently filled with worry.

She smiles at the gesture, silently grateful that he's lending her a shoulder to lean on. Though their friendship may have just bloomed, no thanks to Jason and his friends who are dumb enough to believe that he's killed Chrissy, Eddie is surely one of the few people who could read her like an opened book.

It was as if he's always known her.

"Are you okay?" Eddie whispers, careful not to let the children hear and draw more attention.

She nods, flashing a weak smile, "Never better."

He sighs, looking as if he’s feeling the shared heartbreak.

When Eddie felt that 1986 would be his year, he didn’t think that it would go anyway near his current reality. He was supposed to be with her after he graduated, gather up enough courage as he feels he’s more worthy after to finally confess his harboring feelings. Her trying to help save him as the whole town hunts him down and plaster him as a murderer was certainly not in his list.

But at the very least, he’s grateful to finally have the chance to be close to her as he is right at this very second.

Not with the fact that she’s having her heart broken right now of course.

“I’m sorry, Eddie.”

He raises his brows, a friendly smile still tucked on his lips, “What for?”

“For thinking that you were a freak.” She says shamefully, shrugging her shoulders “I mean now that I think about it, I couldn’t even find one reason why I was friend with Jason let alone believed his mean words about you in school.”

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Eddie says lightly, brushing it off “Besides, I’ve grown into it. Being boxed into the freak show gives me more peace and space to.. Observe.”

“Observe? Observe what?”

“Everything. Things, people, stuff.” He lists, trying not to spill her as one of it.

She teases, resting her chin on her hand as she stares at him more comfortable, “Well, did you ever observe anything related to me?”

“No, not really.” He lies, licking his lips as he tries to subdue the heat that is growing on his cheeks. She is the only one he has eyes for after all.

“That’s a shame.” She fake pouts, looking dejected “I thought I make quite an eye-catching cheerleader.”

“No, you are! Honestly, it’s hard to take off of my eyes from you.”

She squints her eyes, smiling as he takes her bait.

“I mean, I’ve never been to any game and watch you cheer, but if I did, I’m sure I would’ve seen you.” Eddie stammers, trying to figure out words that could best portray his meanings without spoiling his own secret “And then I might observe your right after.”

She smiles, nodding to his words.

Sometimes, when tranquility hits, whether its in the middle of the night or from a fraction of times like this, she wishes that Eddie would see her a little bit more than a friend. Have him as her safety net once she finally grow tired of chasing Steve. A very selfish wish of hers, but the comfort she’d felt ever since Eddie came to her life has been hard to ignore.

Secretly, Eddie wishes the same thing too.

____

The four of them walks through the Upside Down forest in darkness. Robin and her was walking far front than Nancy and Steve, who seem to have a whole load of problems to talk about. Their quiet conversations, how Steve tries to show his devotion to Nancy even as the world rips apart, were becoming her last straws. She could no longer be the fool who try to reach for the stars when his universe have obviously gravitates towards another.

“Steve,” She calls as the two of them finally caught up to her pace “Can I have a talk with you?”

Steve’s brows were furrows, confused at the sudden seriousness in her tone.

“I’ll go and catch up Robin.” Nancy says, nodding as she gives the two some space.

“Is everything alright?” Steve asks, his eyes filled with worry now “Are you feeling okay? Do you need something?”

“That talk, in the van, about your dream and how you wanted to have six little nuggets,” She started, going straight down to business “You were talking about your dream with Nancy, weren’t you? You dreamed of building a family with her.”

Steve licks his lip, nodding ever so lightly as if he’s afraid to admit it.

“Why are you so cruel to me, Steve?” She asks, forcing a half-hearted chuckle “You know how I feel about you, how I’ve loved and cared for you all these years and yet- Yet you’re toying with me.”

“I never meant to do that to you.” Steve says gently, trying to ease her pain “I’m trying, I really am. I’m trying to return your feelings but the more I try, the harder it is for me to breath because I know that I’m only hurting us both.”

She shakes her head as she forces a smile, “You never tried, Steve. You were only ever kind to me because you fear you’ll lose me, just like you lost Nancy.”

Steve gulps, trying to find a word to utter.

Her chest were hung heavy with every passing second. The guilt visibly bleeding out of him was slicing her heart though she’s always known of it. That she was just stalling for reality to catch up and burst her bubble of hope. That her legs finally grow tired of running on the same spot, never a step closer to him. That he was never hers to lose.

“I think I’m on the wrong team. I’ll be with Henderson and Eddie instead.”

____

Eddie has to rub his eyes when he saw her running towards the trailer. He’s heard that being in the brink of life might make you see things that aren’t necessarily there, things that are too good to be true. But seeing that very smile he’s always adored in distance as she waves closer were a bigger enough fuel to make him get out of the trailer and see her for himself.

And to his pleasure, she really is here.

“Change of plan,” She says between her panting “I’ll be supervising you two. None of you get to act hero and die under my watch.”

Eddie grins, instinctively pulling her into a hug.

She froze at the sudden embrace, the unfamiliar gesture made her body malfunctioned and turned as still as stone. It took her a moment before finally finding her way to hug him back, giving him the very same comfort he’s giving to her. Given the circumstances, a hug is certainly what they need.

As they prepares for the metal showdown, she finds herself sitting next to Eddie. Dustin was busy elsewhere with the cords, talking to himself in means of calming down. Everyone was on edge, waiting for their signs to be echoed through the radio.

"You know, if we’re not dying and the world is not ending, this place is actually not that bad.” Eddie says as he points at the sky “I mean, look at it. Bats flying around, snowflakes, scarlet thunder lighting the sky. Romantic.”

She chuckles, “Your idea of romantic is pretty alarming.”

“Well it sure is better than a date at Benny’s Burgers. That place is overrated.”

She nods, agreeing his statement with a smile.

Eddie knows that her presence now isn’t anywhere caused by her worry for him nor Dustin. It must have stemmed to something to related to her and Steve. A bigger part of him wanted to ignore it and just cherish the fact that she’s there with him, having small talks and hearing her laughter though the state of current affairs were grim, but letting her brood in her own distress was never his character. He’ll break himself first before letting the girl he loves be heartbroken alone.

A bad habit he’s done more frequent lately.

“What happened out there?” He asks, secretly bracing himself for another strike to the heart “Did you have a fight with Steve?”

She bites her inner cheek, shaking her head, “No, not really. I just realized how much of a fool I’ve been for begging him to love me and just- You know, kinda bolted after that.”

“You’re not a fool. Everyone wants to be loved by the people they love, it’s in our nature.”

“Yeah, but not everyone has been hoping for their crush to notice and return their feelings for years. I hoard my devotion for him for three years. Three whole years, can you believe that?”

Eddie smiles, shaking his head. If she thinks liking someone for three years were long, wait until she knows that he’s been admiring her ever since middle school.

“I just- I don’t know. Sometimes I can’t help but to wonder if it was just me. If I was the problem. If I’m simply not worthy of love.”

“Don’t say that.” He argues, his facial expression turns to slight anger “You’re worth every love there is in this world. Harrington is an a hole who don’t understand what true love is.”

She turns to see Eddie, a slight hope raising in her heart.

“You are the most beautiful babe of Hawkins High. Hell, in all of Hawkins you’re the only one who matters. You might not see it but others do. You deserve all the love you give to others and more.”

“You talk too nice of me, Ed.” She says with a smile, rolling her eyes “You barely know me. We’ve only been friends for like a week.”

“I know you more than you think I do.” He argues, unintentionally showing his cards “I know how you always put yourself last when it comes to friends and family. How you always try to lift everyone up, though it might heavy you down and drown you deeper in your own struggles.”

She remains quiet, certain pieces of puzzles coming to its place in her mind.

“I just- I just wish that you could see yourself the way others see you. The way I see you.” Eddie continues, trying to make a point “You don’t see how beautiful you are when you laugh, even when you try to cover yourself. You don’t see how beautiful you are when you do that little dance everytime you eat some food you love. You don’t see how beautiful you are when you run to me just now, waving your hand like an idiot as if it’s hard for me to see you. In any given place and time, I would always be able to see you.”

The storm inside her was raging with every words he utters. He was telling every single thought that has ever crossed her mind every time Steve calls her and wonders if he was unworthy of love.

Eddie’s words were her words to Steve.

“Eddie..”

“Shit.” He mutters as he processes her reaction, looking down with a force chuckle “I’ve completely out myself, didn’t I?”

She takes a huge gulp, trying to swallow down the block in her throat.

Her wish of having Eddie to hold feelings for her have come true. In fact, it has always been true without her knowing. It’s just that with everything that’s happened, having to let go of Steve just an hour ago, she doesn’t have the capability to respond to his confession.

Eddie forces a smile, “You don’t have to say anything. I walked myself into that trap.”

“Eddie..”

“I better check on Henderson.”

Spending no other second, Eddie walks away. She could tell from his words that Eddie has hold this secret for quite sometime. The despair and genuineness of his tone shows that it’s been a ticking bomb he’s tried so hard to diffuse. How his eyes were glued on her, whispering all that his words could not touch, she understands it clearly.

But she wasn’t in the right state of mind to give a respond. The last thing she’d want to do is to hurt him, though evidently she’s done it unknowingly. All these times ranting about Steve must have wound him.

Perhaps, when the night ends and morning comes, they could find the time to talk about this.

____

“Go, go, go, go!” Dustin yells as they run from the swarm of demobats.

The plan has worked. Thousands of demobats are now flying around the trailer, clawing on every window and doors as they try to enter. She watches at the side with a smile as Eddie and Dustin geek over how metal it was. It’s true, it was the most metal ever.

Eddie tries to compose himself as he hears her soft laughter, trying not to ruin his image after just looking so metal out there. This might have been his only chance of getting out of the freak box and show his real worth to her. Better not mess it up.

As the screeching grows louder, the three of them then runs further inside the trailer, standing right by the portal. Their backs are touching each other, trying to cover each other’s blind spots should the bats enter. Their hearts were beating fast, skin laced in nervous sweat as they alertly try to hear the bat’s movements.

“They can’t get in through there, can they?” Dustin asks worriedly as their eyes meet the vent by the roof.

As if on cue, the swarm of demobats enter the trailer. The three of them tried to stab them with their weapons, yelling in fear as more and more demobats try to come in.

A close call was made as Eddie slam the nailed tin shield to the roof. Though the victory was short lived as the demobats try to enter from different vents. In a short time, large number of demobats have entered the trailer, pushing them to go through the portal.

She went first, reaching safety she lands on the mattress on the other side. She then quickly help Dustin who’s mouth is never shut from cursing and panicking over the given condition.

“Eddie, hurry!” She says as Dustin finally landed “Come on now, we can’t fight all of them!”

But instead of reaching for the rope, Eddie only stood and stares at her. His eyes look around as if trying to figure something out.

“Eddie, what are you doing? Just jump!” She says frantically, afraid that he might pull an impromptu stunt “Eddie!”

Answering her nightmare, Eddie grabs the spear and cut the rope. He puts away the mattress on his side, making sure that she and Dustin wouldn’t be able to return as he reaches for the tin shield.

“Eddie, what are you doing?!” Dustin yells in horror.

“I’m buying more time.”

“No!”

Her wail echoes.

Eddie was out of sight, running back out to fight the demobats. Her tears were spilling, running her hands through her hair as she tries to think this through.

“Desperate time calls for desperate measures.” She whispers as she grabs a chair and put it under the portal “Dustin, give me a lift.”

“What?”

“Hurry up!”

Crying himself, Dustin tries to help her get through the portal. Being a cheerleader, it wasn’t hard for her to make a jump but the difference in gravity surely made her off balance. She groans as she fell on the other side, possibly fracturing her shoulder blade. But she couldn’t wince too long in pain. Eddie needs her.

“Wait, help me!”

“Sorry, Dustin.” She says in pain, standing up “I’ll come back to you later.”

Taking the left spear, she runs outside the trailer. She calls for him, frantically looking for the brunette boy. As she run out, she could see the storm of demobats with Eddie standing on its eye taunting them as if he isn’t in enough trouble.

She tries to scream and get the demobats’ attention as she runs at them but they don’t budge. It was as if they have had their minds settled on Eddie.

Her scream gets more frantic as they begin to fly at him, ripping his flesh with their horned tails and fangs. Eddie’s scream feels louder than the thunder blaring on the sky. The sight of him being tortured is making her cry even harder.

After what seems to be eternity, the demobats suddenly fall to the ground. Phase four has finally been executed. But victory was still out of reach as she sees Eddie lays limp on the ground. She reaches to him, pulling him to her lap and trying to ignore the excruciating pain from her shoulder as she tries to hold him close.

“Eddie, you dipshit!” She snarls, her anger and worry fusing into one “I told you no improvising, why can’t you just listen to me for once?!”

“I’m sorry.” He says in between his chokes, blood coming out of his mouth “I only did what I thought was necessary.”

She shakes her head in disapproval, crying.

“And I also wanted to impress you.”

She sniffles, chuckling, “You little shit.”

“Are you impressed?”

“I am.” She nods, tears still flowing down her cheeks “But please stick to your guitar the next time you try to impress me.”

“I don’t think there’ll be a next time.”

“Don’t say that.” She says fast, pulling him close “We’ll get you to a hospital and have you patch up.”

Eddie’s breathing was getting heavier. His chokes were more apparent as more blood come out of his mouth. Her clothes are now covered in his blood.

“You’ll hate me for this.” He says between his choking “I love you.”

“No, not now.” She shushed him gently, placing her hand on his cheek “Tell me that later, when we graduate. Kiss me after we get that diploma, okay? This is your year, remember?”

Eddie nods faintly, smiling, “It’s finally my year.”

She nods, unable to find other words to utter.

Eddie smiles, staring at her. This is perfect. Dying at the hands of the girl he’s loved more than anyone. He knows that he’s being selfish, finding comfort in her tears but for once he wanted to be selfish and chose the way he departs from life. He wanted to be selfish and have her cradle him, telling him that everything will be alright.

“I love you.”

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x female oc #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson angst #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson oneshot

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