#suddenly brought back to life in a strange new time
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Second Chance
part 2 of rivals
Jo's second camp with the team is nearly over and she gets news of her future.
2,367 words
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“Hi, kid.”
I grinned at the familiar voice as I closed the door behind me.
“Hey, Becky.”
The woman smiled at me as I threw my bag onto the open bed. I hadn’t exactly expected Jill to room me with Becky again, but it was nice. Becky had helped to make sure that I actually got to bed at a responsible time and that I wasn’t late to any meetings or practices. After all, it had been quite easy for me to get distracted by everything else.
“Did you get to go to the lake?”
“Yeah, we went for a couple of days,” I admitted.
Becky nodded at that before she turned back to the book that she was reading. I tilted my head as I read the title.
“ The Portrait of Dorian Gray ,” I read off the spin. Becky looked up at me with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never read it.”
“I could read it out loud, if you’d like.”
I smiled at Becky as I nodded. Becky looked back down at the book as I kicked my shoes off.
“‘I have always been my own master; had at least always been so, till I met Dorian Gray. Then--but I don't know how to explain it to you. Something seemed to tell me that I was on the verge of a terrible crisis in my life. I had a strange feeling that Fate had in store for me exquisite joys and exquisite sorrows. I grew afraid, and turned to quit the room. It was not conscience that made me do so: it was a sort of cowardice. I take no credit to myself for trying to escape.’”
I grinned as Becky read the words on the pages. I knew that we had at least an hour, if not two, until our meeting started since they were still waiting on quite a few players to get into the hotel. I didn’t give Becky time to start the next paragraph as I crawled into her bed before ducking my head under her left arm so I could look at the pages. Becky stayed silent for a moment as I got comfortable.
It wasn’t until I had settled down and stopped moving that Becky continued.
“‘Conscience and cowardice are really the same things, Basil. Conscience is the trade name of the firm. That is all.’
‘I don't believe that, Harry, and I don't believe you do either. However, whatever was my motive--and it may have been pride, for I used to be very proud--I certainly struggled to the door. There, of course, I stumbled against Lady Brandon. 'You are not going to run away so soon, Mr. Hallward?' she screamed out. You know her curiously shrill voice?’”
Becky’s voice was definitely one of the most soothing voices I had ever heard. Maybe she could become a professional audiobook reader or something like that once she retired from playing. Or even just take it up during the off-season. I wouldn’t mind listening to Becky read me more books if her voice was always this soothing.
“‘Yes; she is a peacock in everything but beauty,’ said Lord Henry, pulling the daisy to bits with his long, nervous fingers.
‘I could not get rid of her. She brought me up to Royalties, and people with Stars and Garters, and elderly ladies with gigantic tiaras and parrot noses. She spoke of me as her dearest friend. I had only met her once before, but she took it into her head to lionize me. I believe some picture of mine had made a great success at the time, at least had been chattered about in the penny newspapers, which is the nineteenth-century standard of immortality. Suddenly I found myself face to face with the young man whose personality had so strangely stirred me. We were quite close, almost touching. Our eyes met again. It was reckless of me, but I asked Lady Brandon to introduce me to him. Perhaps it was not so reckless, after all. It was simply inevitable. We would have spoken to each other without any introduction. I am sure of that. Dorian told me so afterwards. He, too, felt that we were destined to know each other.’”
I couldn’t find it in myself to fight off the sleep as Becky’s voice lulled me into darkness.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Hey, pipsqueak.”
I looked at Hope who had sat down across from me. I titled my head at her sudden presence. I knew that she often sat at the table with Carli and Christie during our meals. But they were both seated at a table that was behind Hope.
“Hi, Hope.”
I looked over my shoulder where most of the team was still getting their food. Being small did come with advantages, such as being small enough to get around everyone so I could be one of the first to get my food. I spotted Becky and Alyssa who were just now grabbing their own plates to fill them up. I turned back to look at Hope.
“Look, I just came to say that maybe you aren’t that bad.”
I raised my eyebrows at that. Hope complimenting me had been the last thing I was expecting. After all, we still weren’t getting along that well. It seemed like we both tolerated each other just enough for a fight not to break out during practice, but that didn’t stop the two of us from exchanging words during practice.
“I mean, don’t get me wrong,” Hope said as she kept her eyes trained on her plate as she stabbed some of the food with her fork. “You still aren’t better than I am. But that doesn’t mean you aren’t helping us out.”
I stayed silent, causing Hope to look up at me. She just stared back at me. I was trying to figure out if this was some kind of joke or something.
“Who are you and what have you done with Hope Solo?”
Hope chuckled at that as she nodded.
“That’s cute, pipsqueak.”
“No seriously. Hope Solo would never compliment me. We go at each other’s throats,” I said as I shook my head. I turned my attention back to my plate. Hope had to be seriously sick if she was being nice to me all of a sudden. “Mine and Hope’s relationship does not consist of us being nice to each other. We’re like sweet potatoes and mustard. They don’t go together. I don’t give a shit what Mick says either. He’s a weirdo for eating sweet potatoes and mustard.”
“No, I’m serious, Jo,” Hope said. I paused at that before I looked up at Hope. “Can you just take the compliment?”
I shook my head. I really couldn’t.
At least not from Hope.
This was too weird. Hope wasn’t supposed to be nice to me. She wasn’t supposed to compliment me.
“Is everything okay over here?”
Hope and I both looked at Becky who took a seat next to me. I sent Becky a small smile before I turned back to Hope. I slowly nodded my head as I realized just what this was about.
“You’re being nice 'cause I saved your ass in the goal.”
“Jo! Language!”
I rolled my eyes at that. I already had a mom at home, I didn’t need Becky deciding to mother me while I was at camp too.
“No.”
“You said that way too fast for it to be true! This is about me saving you in the goal.” I grinned as I glanced at Alyssa who sat next to Becky. So it wasn’t because Hope actually wanted to get to know me. “You just feel bad that you tried acting all tough and like you could stop me and then you couldn’t back it up and I had to save the game against France so we didn’t draw again.”
“I don’t need help in the goal, pipsqueak .”
“Sure you don’t.”
It felt good knowing that Hope had felt bad after I saved her skin.
“You could have just said thank you.”
“Jo,” Becky said. I looked over at her as I raised my eyebrows. I wasn’t too sure why she really cared what happened between Hope and me. “Just take the compliment.”
“But she’s only saying it because I made the stop on the goal line.”
“Jo. Take the compliment.”
My jaw slacked a bit at that. I couldn’t believe that Becky was actually taking Hope’s side.
“Thank you for the compliment,” I said once I eventually turned back to Hope. The goalie smirked at me as she stood up. I rolled my eyes as I lowered my voice. “Good thing you’re good at soccer. Cause the porch light’s on, but there ain’t no one home.”
It wasn’t until Hope was well out of earshot that I felt the hand connect with the back of my head.
“Ow!”
“You’re lucky she didn’t hear that comment,” Becky hissed quietly. I slumped back against my chair at that. I really wasn’t in the mood for another lecture. “I get it. You don’t get along with Hope and you might never get along with Hope, but she’s our goalie. You are going to have to stop trying to provoke her.”
“She doesn’t treat me fairly. Why should I be the one to have to extend the olive branch?” I asked as I leaned forward to get closer to Becky. “She’s the adult. I’m only fifteen.”
“Jo-”
“No, it’s bullshit.”
“Langauge.”
“And I don’t need another mom. I already have one.”
Becky sighed as she leaned back in her own chair. I looked away from her.
“What if I talk to Hope?”
Becky and I both looked over at Alyssa. I had honestly forgotten that she was sitting at the table with us because of how quiet she had been. It was something that Becky told me I would have to get used to though.
“As if that would make it any better.”
“That would be great. Thank you, Alyssa.”
I huffed as I pushed myself away from the table. I had already finished my plate and if it gave me an excuse to be away from Alyssa and Becky right now, I would take it. I didn’t need everyone else fighting my battles for me. It was part of the problem. If everyone else fought my battles for me then no one would ever take me seriously.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“So, I heard that you and Hope got into it,” Jill said as I was wrapping my hand. I sighed as I looked up at her. “Is there a problem that I, as the coach, need to address between you two?”
“No.”
Jill nodded her head slowly as she still looked down at me as I finished wrapping my hand. I rubbed the bridge of my nose before looking back up at her.
“Is there anything else?”
“I really hoped that you and Hope would have gotten over this by now,” Jill said. I softly groaned as my shoulders slumped forward. “I’ll be honest with you, kid. I want to call you up for the August game and September-”
“I get it,” I assured her. I glanced at where the rest of the team was getting ready. Even though I had been friendly enough with Alyssa and Becky, the rest still seemed hesitant to get close to me. “Who wants a kid on their team when they’re the best in the world?”
“Jolene, that isn’t it.”
“Isn’t it?”
I looked away from Jill and down at my shoes. I knew that it was. It wasn’t the first time I had been left behind because I was the youngest one, and I doubted that it would be the last.
“Jo, you’re gonna be called to the U-20 team in just days,” Jill said as she bent down so that we were equal in height. “I encouraged them to do so. I think it would be a great opportunity.”
I looked back over to the rest of the team. But my eyes zeroed in on Hope. I knew what she would say when she found out that I wouldn’t be called to the team in August or September.
“The U-20 World Cup will be over before August. So what’s the point in keeping me out of the September camp?”
Hope would only boost and brag if I was gone longer than I needed to be. Plus, I didn’t want to lose the pace of play that came with the national team if I was gone for too long.
“Because you’re only fifteen, Jo. You will have to go to school and finish your education,” Jill said. I looked back at her. I didn’t care about that, I just cared about my future in soccer. “If your grades suffer too much, then I can’t call you up. You will be gone until late August if you guys make it to the finals.”
“So why have me go to the U-20 team instead of getting more practice with the senior team?”
“Because the U-20 team is going to a World Cup. It might not be the World Cup you were hoping for, but it will give you a taste of what it will be like next year,” Jill said as she sighed. I wondered if she would ever get tired of me and all my questions. “You’ll be expected to be a leader on the U-20 team as you’ve already been called up to the senior team. That will also be a good experience for you. I don’t expect that you’ll be seen as a leader on this team for years, maybe not until I’m gone even, but it will happen eventually, and leading a team at a World Cup, even a youth one, will be good for you.”
“Yeah, sure.”
Jill sighed as she patted my leg before standing up. If I had to prove myself to Jill at the youth level again, I was going to do it. Nothing would stop me from winning gold in August. Maybe then, the rest of the team would also start to see me as more than just some kid.
#uswnt imagine#woso imagine#leah williamson imagine#uswnt x reader#woso x reader#leah williamson x reader#uswnt imagines#woso imagines#leah williamson imagines#uswnt#woso#leah williamson
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The way you say my name
Feyd Rautha Harkonnen x female!Reader
Its pure smut and since its about Feyd, there are some warnings: he is not so gentle. There is desire on both sides and it ends up getting in the praise kink/forced orgasm territory.
Summary: Your planet has brought magic into the galaxy - a source of new spice- and upended the political status quo. You are the sole heiress of your house and the emperor decided that the best way to protect your family's survival is to betroth you to the most enigmatic but violent fighter in the known universe: Na Baron Feyd Rautha Harkonnen, dangerously seductive and very intrigued by you …
2.203 words
one shot ( for now)
_________
Your whole body was tense, filled with anticipation and nervousness. You noticed your fingers were unconsciously playing with your belt again, and with effort you made yourself refrain from doing so. It was not your first time in the Emperor's court, nor was it your first state reception. Still, it was the first time you had set foot on Kaitain since the new spice was discovered on your planet. Something that had been considered impossible for millennia and that would shake the existing power structures in the Landsraat and the entire known universe. From an insignificant house on a planet beyond Orion, blessed with centuries of stability because of it, your family has been catapulted into a position of a central political player. Your fate, albeit a small piece of a power play against the backdrop the these developments. "Our task is greater than ourselves. Our fears, smaller." The mantra that helped you hold a steady course. You relax your shoulders and notice how your back straightens.
At that moment, a festively dressed servant entered the room to announce Baron Vladimir Harkonnen and his nephews arrival. Even though you had been prepared for this encounter, the sight was a shock to her. At the first glance he is less imposing then Rabban, who moved into the room like a mountain of muscle and leather uniform. But there is a slow and steady menace in the way he carries himself. His demeanor, both elegant and commanding, reminded you of a marble statue brought to life; his skin almost seemed to illuminate the room, a contrast stark against the dim flicker of torches.
If he had eyebrows, he would certainly have raised one a little crookedly by now. But as it was, his ice-blue eyes suddenly started at you, and you sensed a hardness in his entire demeanor that you weren't used to at home and whose traces you might have felt in her upbringing with Bene Gesserit, but which had always been wrapped in a velvet glove. But power, violence and strength were clear to see in this man. The reason why the Emperor wants to make him your husband - the only one who can apparently guarantee the safety of your planet. He was not used to having to hide his true character. And that is exactly what you would make his downfall.
The formalities dragged on endlessly, time seems to slow down under his gaze. He cannot comprehend you, the strangeness of your features, the luxuriant curls of your hair falling over your shoulders in an elegant half updo, the waves of burgundy silk of your cloak adorning your shoulders, your dress of the same silk and lace - how can anyone appear so vulnerable and exposed? Especially one who holds the key to the most coveted of secrets - a new spice, as powerful as the one exported from Arrakis, but with fewer dangers, Fremen rebellions and more sustainable methods of harvesting. Only this thin fabric separates you from him, something his knife could shred in seconds. He notices that your eyes have left his and are now focused on his hand, gripping the blade at his waist so tightly that his knuckles turn white. He unclenches his hand and offers it to you, bowing slightly.
"My lady, would you allow me to escort you?"
You place your hand on his and he almost jerks back, surprised by its warmth.
"A mere twist of nature, I tend to forget how shocking it must be to someone not from my home. Our temperature has evolved to be slightly higher than the average, so that when the temperature drops at night, we never fall below a certain threshold".
He listens to you as you walk down the hall towards the banquet room, taking in your voice, the slight swish of your gown on the floor, the click of the delicate gold chains around your neck disappearing into the modest cut of your dress.
His thoughts oscillate between genuine intrigue with you and your planet, both of which he will soon call his, and a burning desire to test your seemingly obvious fragility, to see how many times he can take you before you beg for mercy, how many bites into your skin will make you whimper, how many slaps on your ass will bring you to your knees regretting whatever misdeed you may have done. You can see his hunger, thinly veiled by manners, and you are sure that he is not accusing you in front of everyone for being in the Emperor's house and not on Giedi Prime. He seems so lost in thought that you have to repeat your question.
"Are you all right, Na Baron? Is something wrong? My conversational skills must be truly dull to bore you so".
He seems to come back to the present, his eyes resting on yours again, the colour of pure blue, like a deep frozen mountain lake. You look down, and just as he finds his voice, the Emperor rises to end the banquet.
"Then I shall bid you good night. If you wish, join me in the botanical garden tomorrow before noon. Perhaps my conversation skills will have improved by then".
He nods and stands to pull out your chair, taking the opportunity to let his fingers slide down your spine through your dress as he moves the chair to the side. He will join you tomorrow alright.
_____
The sun flickers through the canopy of trees above you, leaving a mosaic of shadows on the small, flat cobblestones of the path. You have your hair in a braid that sits like a halo around your head, your arms bare in the sun, dressed in a light linen top and form-fitting trousers that allow for more movement as you tend to the plants. The small patch in front of you is half empty, with small plants dug up. Their purple roots are gnarled and wobbly, while the vines are the darkest shade of green. A tiny bead of sweat clings to your eyebrow, and you pull off your glove to remove it.
"Is this how my intended likes to spend her time?" His voice behind you, rough and deep. You are startled and drop the glove. He picks it up and holds it out to you, looking straight into your eyes again.
"Thank you. Sometimes I do," you give him an open smile and take the glove back from him, he holds it for a second longer than necessary, seemingly puzzled by your open expression once again. "These plants are from my home, the Emperor tries his best to cultivate them here, but we cannot figure out why they do not develop as they should," you look up at him, his gaze still unmoved from your face.
"Am I boring you again, Na Baron?"
"Not at all," his tongue moves over his lush lips, brushing his cupid's bow.
"Well then, these tiny plants are one of the main factors in the production of the new spice. Their sap is..." You take a small knife from the box beside you and just as you cut into one of the roots, your hand slips and a red streak of blood appears on your left hand. In an instant, a small trail of red drips down your palm and onto the light stones at your feet.
His eye darkens as he grabs your post, ignoring the plant in the flower bed, and brings the injured hand to his lips. A shower passes through you, his tongue brushing your skin, electrifying.
"You should be more careful, my lady."
His voice almost a growl, his soft and plush lips sucking lightly at your skin, leaving a red mark around them.
"Yes, I should, Feyd," you are not sure if calling him by his name was a familiarity you allowed yourself too soon, but his reaction proves you wrong. His arms are wrapped around your waist, his face inches from yours. You feel your breath mix, his scent sweet and musky around you.
"Say my name again" There is no politeness to hide his hunger now.
"Feyd..." An almost unbearable exhalation is all you can manage. And with that, he closes the gap between you and descends on your lips, devouring you. His kiss tastes slightly metallic as you taste your blood on his lips, his tongue touching your teeth, demanding entry. You give in, melting into his ministrations, your hands unable to stay still, reaching for his neck, nails digging into the porcelain skin, he almost Monas into the kiss, his hands clawing at your bottom, gripping the flesh in an iron grip. You make a small sound that seems to be all he has been waiting for. Leaving your swollen lips, his attack continues in your jaw and neck, leaving small marks. You feel his arrousal pressing against you and your right hand lets go of his throat and slides over the leather in a rhythmic motion. Before you can think how you can take so much, his size is obvious even fully clothed, he grabs the knife from before and cuts open your top, not bothering with the buttons, leaving your chest exposed to him. His mouth travels to your nipples, his tongue dancing around them before his mouth closes on them and his other hands pinch the other hard. You moan, the pain delicious and unexpected, making you arch even more towards him. He unties the rest of your clothes, leaving you bare to him. A drop of your wetness makes its way from your core along your inner thigh as you melt in his arms. His hand wanders deeper along your hipbones and thighs and as he catches the drop his predatory smile becomes a grin.
„My lady seems to be enjoying herself... Kneel down".
You obey, the hard floor hurting your knees almost immediately. He pulls his swollen cock out of his trousers and strokes the head along your lips. You open your mouth and begin to lick his shaft with broad strokes, sucking the tip in and letting it fall from your mouth with a wet plop. He watches your every move and pushes a lock of hair that has come loose from your braid out of your face.
"Yes, that's a good girl, keep going."
Spurred on by the praise, you redouble your efforts, disregarding the discomfort of kneeling on the pavement and look up at him to find him completely mesmerised. He cannot believe how willingly you give yourself to him, without reservation. He feels as if he has found something sacred, something so precious and wild that he cannot imagine ever getting enough of it. He steadies your neck and finds his own rhythm, fucking your throat hard, the gurgling sound coming from you like music to his ears, you are struggling for air but he is relentless, filling you with his cum until you swallow every last drop. Your eyes almost in tears, you try to catch your breath, but Feyd has other plans as he helps you to your feet and lays you down on the patch of fresh earth. He spreads your legs and caresses your core. The pain seems to dissolve into a sea of pleasure, leaving you disoriented and greedy, your hands pressing the back of his head into your cunt. He moans in approval, sending more delicious vibrations through your cleat and as his tongue fins you entrance, you lose yourself in the orgasm, chanting his name with more earnestness than any prayer that was ever to leave your lips.
He looks up at you and just when you think you are going to get a break from his ministrations, he pauses only to strip, his leather overalls falling to the floor and revealing his muscles. He grasps your hips and you spread your legs even wider, giving him an unobstructed view of you and your pulsating cunt.
"So ready to take me, my lady, so ready for my cock to fill you," he smiles, aligning himself with your entrance and thrusting in at once. His cock, thick and throbbing, disappears inside you as you continue to chant his name. He rams into you with abandon, his head touching your wall as his hands wander from your hips to your breasts, kneading them, whipping you into the frenzy of the second high, spasming even harder around his cock.
"I think you can come again for me, my Na Baroness," he whispers in your ear as he lowers himself over you, one hand loving your breasts to study himself on the floor, the fingers of the other circling your clit. You moan, overstimulated and hot, writhing under his touch.
"I know you can do it," he continues, not slowing down, and he is right as you cum again, this time sending him over the edge, his movements becoming ragged as his seed fills you. As your both breathing calms, you look into his eyes again and you know he is a goner, lost to the magic of your touch and how your desires dance together.
#feyd rautha#feyd rautha imagine#dune part ii#feyd x reader#feyd smut#feyd x you#dune movie#arranged marriage#shameless smut#feyd oneshot#feyd rautha harkonnen#house harkonnen#dune part 2#feyd rautha x reader#fem reader#reader insert#x reader#x female reader#praise k!nk
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unspoken thoughts
tags: modern au, wrothesley x fem! reader, roomates to lovers, reader goes on a blind date with a karen (tm), biker! wrio!!!!
word count: 1.7k
masterlist | taglist
“Hey, Bun. How was work?”
You meet Wriothesley with a level glare, as you fumble with locking the door. Maybe rooming with him had saved you money on rent, but what you’d saved had definitely been replaced with extra stress.
“I told you to stop calling me bunny.”
“Perhaps if you didn’t blush like that when I do, I would stop.” He replies, nursing a cup of tea and a book as he relaxes on the sofa. You glare at him again but lower yourself onto the sofa beside him.
“New delivery?” You ask, referring to the tea.
“The one that was delayed,” he says. “It was worth the wait.” He raises the cup to you and you take a sip, taking stock of all the flavours you can before Wriothesley begins to talk about it. One day, you’re sure he’ll find out that you actually have no interest in his teas, and that despite the fact he drives you mad, he’s actually just nice to listen to.
“Seems it was worth the money too,” You say once he’s finished talking. “Definitely belongs in the top ten.”
“Maybe even top five,” he replies, mostly to himself as you stand up. “More work?” he asks lightly, expecting you to grumble about how you're tired of always working, and you wish your manager would stop expecting you to work overtime for free, but this time you smile coyly.
“I have a blind date,” you say quietly, trying to ignore the way he’s looking up at you. “My friend set me up. He’s apparently a very refined, classy guy from a good family, and my friend says he thinks we’d get along well.”
“I wonder what your friend defines as a good family,” Wriothesley says, sipping his tea. “Money? Influence?” He’d never truly considered what you’d look for in a partner before, in fact, he liked to try and avoid the thought if possible. He prefers to only think about the things which affect him directly. But now the topic has been brought up, he suddenly feels strange. If coming from a good family is important to you… That would immediately take him out of the running, wouldn’t it?
“I dunno.” you shrug. “Sometimes my friend just says things. Anyway, thanks for sharing your tea. I’m gonna go get ready.”
Wriothesley watches as you walk away, sighing lightly as he takes another sip of his tea. He’s lived with you for so long that he never truly thought about how his life at home would change if you got a boyfriend. Would it mean he could no longer share his teas with you? Would he have to stop letting you sleep on him when you watch movies together?
He sits with his thoughts until he hears your keys as you leave your room.
“I’m off. Don’t stay up for me.” You smile, and Wriothesley can't help but hate himself for hating how happy you seem to be leaving. He sips his now-cold tea and nods.
“Have fun.”
“You’re grumbling. What’s the matter?” you say, pulling your jacket on.
“I am not grumbling.” he shoots back, standing up to go to the kitchen. “My tea got cold. That’s all.”
“You are so grumbling right now.” you grin. Wriothelsey doesn't know if you are purposefully ignoring his bad mood or if you're so excited about your date that you simply don’t notice, but he doesn’t really like either of those answers. “See you later!”
And then Wriothesley finds himself alone again. Maybe he’d taken it for granted that you’d always be around. Maybe he isn't as okay with the silence as he’d made himself believe he was.
Even though you told him not to wait up, he finds himself unable to sleep. He tells himself it's not because he’s worried, it's just because he had a rare lie in this morning. It's natural for his body to be slightly out of sync, right? You’re perfectly capable of taking care of yourself, and today is just like every other day and–
His phone is ringing. It’s odd for him to get called by his manager so late in the day, but it's also not rare.
It's even rarer for it to be you calling.
“Wriothesley?”
“Hey, Bun. What’s going on?” He can’t help but smile a little. There you are on a date, but you’re calling him.
“Are you busy right now?”
It's only then that he notices the wavering in your voice.
“I’m not. What’s the matter?”
“Can you come and get me? I… I’m sorry, I just don’t know who else to call.”
You sound cold, he notices. Your teeth chatter together in between your words, and the wavering in your voice seems to be getting worse.
“Where are you? Why aren’t you inside?” He grabs his keys and he’s out of the door before you even have the chance to respond. His legs are moving faster than his mind can, and he’s already halfway down the stairs before he knows it.
You tell him where you are, but pointedly avoid his second question, and he supposes that’s fair. Maybe you just don’t want to share.
“I’m coming. Don’t move.”
Even despite the fact he’s glad you called him, Wriothesley wonders why you didn’t call an Uber. You’ve always been very vocal about how much you hate his motorcycle, and how you wish he’d just get a car. is the situation so dire that you don't care anymore?
When he gets to you, you’re sat outside of an upscale restaurant. He’s sure you left with a jacket, but you don’t have it on now.
“Hey,” he says, sitting next to you. “What’s the matter?”
You burst into tears when he asks you that question, and for a second, Wriothesley has no clue what to do. It’s you who buries your face into his chest, sobbing desperately.
“It was going okay at first, but the waitress got the guy’s order wrong and he went crazy. So they asked him to pay and leave, and then he said he didn’t want to because his order was wrong. He demanded that a manager come and then he said that I should pay. And I said I’d pay for my half, but as I was saying that I wasn’t going to pay for him, the manager came and picked up the wrong end of the stick, and she wouldn’t listen to the waitress who was defending me. So she asked us both to leave, and he’s screaming his head off, and they barely even gave me time to grab my phone before they marched us out. They would have left me with him while he was blowing his top if it wasn’t for the waitress who came with me until he left.” you cling onto his jacket. “I’m so embarrassed.”
“Don’t be embarrassed.” He says lowly. “It’s not your fault. It was never your fault.” He shrugs his jacket off and puts it over your shoulders. “Show me your table. I’ll get your stuff.”
“Wriothesley, please.” You can feel the anger radiating off him, and you worry about what will happen if he ends up on the wrong side of that manager.
“You shouldn’t suffer because of a guy with no manners. Let me get your things.”
You nod but insist on staying outside. The waitress that you said helped you earlier is the one that greets Wriothesley at the door, and you watch on as she brings him your things, and he settles the bill.
“You didn’t have to do that,” You tell Wriothesley as he returns.
“I did. Shall we go?” He asks, handing you a helmet. He’d bought that helmet for you when you first moved in together, just in case you ever needed to use his motorbike, but you always refused. He’s glad that it’s finally getting used at least once.
The ride home is silent, and you don’t say anything until you get back into your apartment. The feeling of the wind against your skin and your arms around Wriothesley calms you, and even though you feel humiliated by the actions of your stupid blind date, you feel that maybe things aren’t all that bad.
“You finally stopped calling me bunny,” you say, as you flop onto the sofa. Wriothesley hums in response as he fills up the kettle. In his haste, he’d left all of the lights in the apartment on.
“Does it bother you?”
“A little.”
“You’re so contrary.” He says finally. “You say you hate me calling you bunny, but here you are. You say you hate my motorbike, but you’re okay with me using it to pick you up.”
“I don’t hate your motorcycle.” You say, sitting up to look at him properly. “I think it’s cool.”
“Right, that’s why you refused to ever be near it.”
“I just hated the thought of you getting hurt on it.” You say finally. “It scared me.” He hands you a cup of tea and sits next to you. He hadn’t expected that to be your reasoning. “A part of me hoped that you wouldn’t let me go on that date, you know.”
“Why? It’s not my place to tell you what not to do. If you want to go on a blind date, I can’t stop you.” Those are the words he’d told himself as he watched you leave—you were your own person and it wasn’t his place to try and police what you do.
“You don’t understand.”
“Maybe I don’t,” he replies. “Help me understand.”
You take a deep breath. “If I kissed you, would that help you get it?”
“I don’t know. I suppose you’ll have to try.” He smiles. He barely even gets to finish his sentence when you pull him down to you and kiss him. In all the time he imagined he’d get to kiss you, he didn't think you’d be the one to initiate–-but even still, he wraps his arms around you and pulls you closer.
“Do you get it now?” you ask giddily.
“Not quite.”
So you kiss him again and again until he gets the message.
Bonus:
“You’re not the sharpest pencil in the box, really, are you?”
“Luckily for me, you’d make a great sharpener.”
© 2023, thesparklingwriter. please do not copy, edit, repost, or translate.
notes: um ig its time to add wrio to my taglist form lol.. i really cannot get a good grip on his character so if you read this without thinking "he would not do that" then I am relieved but if you did i am also not surprised lol
#wriothesley#wriothesley x reader#wrio x reader#wriothesley genshin#genshin impact#genshin x reader#genshin fluff#wriothesley fluff#genshin wriothesley
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Spoil
pairing: Prince Regent!Aemond Targaryen x reader
word count: 3.6k
warnings: lowkey dark!aemond, alys river type themed, reader’s family gets killed, reader is a plaything, sexual themes and descriptions (not a smut), fluff at the end :)
a/n THAT GIF OML uuhhh this came to me in a fever dream apologies.
summary She’s his spoil of war, and his new found confidant.
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read time: 13 mins 26 seconds
A spoil of war.
Is the one thing you had been demeaned down to. From a visiting Lady to Harrenhal, a betrothed to one of the Strong sons, and now to nothing. A spoil of war.
The first time you ever saw him was weeks after the fateful night that your life collapsed. You still remember the cool breeze in your nightgown and the loose hair around your shoulders. How the moon shone so brightly, but only in the early evening before the fight began. Smoke then filled the air as your new home was captured.
And then they were gone.
The Blacks had just packed up everything and… left? The castle you once knew to be lively, despite its cracks, was suddenly sullen and empty. Few staff remained from the ones who fled. You clung to your betrothed along with the rest of his family. Life felt like a ticking time bomb.
It was midday when you heard the roar of the great dragon, Vhagar. A strange time to invade, but there wasn’t much to do. A glimmer of hope, you thought. A glimmer of hope.
Hope is only something a fool would believe in now, you truly believed.
The Strong family was rounded up by the one-eyed Prince. You had heard of him before and knew what the people whispered about him. Kinslayer. Evil. Egotistical. Irrational.
A plea for help, you thought. How foolish you feel now. The Kinslayer swiftly went one by one, killing every single last Strong, down to the grandchildren. All you could do was scream. Your betrothed was gone, and so was his family. The women and the children were all gone. And all that was left was you.
The worst death of all, you supposed. It was certain now, you were the last one on your knees pleading for your life. Perhaps in another lifetime, you deserved this. Watching your new family die one by one, knowing of your fate. As the Kinslayer approached you, his sword bloodied in his hand, blood splattered all over his armor, and his face, his white hair matted with the blood of your betrothed. His facial expression was unreadable as you stared him dead in the eyes. A soft prayer came from your lips as he looked at you like you were the most disgusting thing he had ever seen now, as a scowl moved to his lips.
His hatred for the Strong family was inconceivable. Why did such a man hate a family that much?
He stared you down, taking in every single inch of you. An evil snarl approached his lips as he grunted. “Mmm…”
“She’ll do.” he called out to a man in armor, an older one than the Prince and with Dornish features.
She’ll do? What in the Seven Hells is that supposed to mean?
The Dornish Knight took you by the shoulders and forced you off your feet and whispered into your ear softly as he was escorting you to horseback, his hand resting on the small of your back. “Just be quiet and listen. Pledge your allegiance to King Aegon. Then you’ll be fine.” His words were far from comforting as he intended them to be. Your betrothed blood was still fresh on your hands.
A war camp was your new home. One of the dirtiest places on earth, not for a Lady such as yourself. Men were constantly poking and prodding at you, calling and shouting at you all sorts of terrible names. When you first arrived, you were brought into a quiet tent away from the evil eyes of the soldiers. The Dornish man sat with you and spoke softly. He seemed as if he didn’t want to scare you, but he still did nonetheless. You pledged your allegiance to King Aegon and kept quiet, listening to the first piece of advice he gave you. He introduced himself to you as Ser Criston Cole. You feared for your life, and the only thing seemingly keeping it here was this Ser Criston Cole.
After a while, Ser Criston left you alone. And for a while, you sat confused as so many things were running through your head. Your cries continued as well did the trembles in your hands, the hands you couldn’t pull your eyes from as they were covered with your love's blood.
A maid who was silent the whole time came in with a tub and began to bathe you after you were alone for a while. Why? You had no clue. A bath did seem nice though, you wished to be rid of the horrors that painted your body. You cried as the maid washed you, traumatized by the events of that day. The clear water turned a murky brown as your old life was washed away. A new dress was gifted to you. One of a deep green and a sinch in the middle, tied with golden strings. It was long-sleeved and floor length, keeping you warm in the harsh, cold, rainy environment where the camp was located. And along was an optional green coat of fur, embroidered with beautiful designs. Something you would never normally choose, but there wasn’t really a choice. The dress was soft and felt a bit snug around your body, but you didn’t feel like complaining would be a good idea at the moment.
Your hair was combed by this maid as her quick hands moved through your locks. It reminded you of your old life and your old Lady maid. Who you thought must be dead by now. The soothing words of your old Lady maid calmed you for a bit, as you closed your eyes and pretended you were simply not there.
The maid dressed you and quickly left. You didn’t know the Dornish man was guarding this tent until the maid left, and you saw a glimpse of his armor from the flap of the tent that was exposed when she left.
Ser Criston returned and looked you up and down. It was not in a perverse way though, more of an inspection. Like you were some… some item being prepared. He sighed.
“He’ll be happy.” Ser Criston stated, crossing his arms.
“Who, may I ask?” you finally spoke.
“Prince Aemond.” Ser Criston replied, giving you one last look up and down. “He spared you for a reason, my Lady. You should be eternally grateful for him and his grace when it came to you.”
Prince Aemond? Having grace?
Ser Criston escorted you to another tent. The men whistled and whooped as you walked by, looking like a fresh piece of meat to the soldiers who hadn’t felt the touch of their ladies for weeks. Heat rose to your cheeks as you looked at your boots, praying this nightmare would end. But oh, it had just begun.
Prince Aemond sat in his tent. It was identical to every single one each soldier had on the outside, but on the inside, it was quite different. The delicately carved chairs and a large bed of hay with many pelts over it caught your eye before the Prince did. You didn’t even notice Criston leaving your side until you turned to speak to him, and he was gone.
He was sitting in front of the fire. His armor was gone, and his hair was cleaned. His stockings were hung by the fire as they seemed to be drying as he sat in a chair, not looking in your direction. You stood still, fear wracked your body as you tried to think of something to do. Should you speak? Just stand there? Wait for him to approach you?
“Come,” he said commandingly as he flicked a few of his fingers towards you, beckoning you over to his side. The Prince didn’t even look your way. His voice was much calmer than it was at Harrenhal. You listened, approaching him with hesitance.
He looked up at you, taking in your features with the same blank look as he did at Harrenhal.
“Do you know who I am?” he asked harshly as you stood next to his chair awkwardly. You nodded. “Mmm…” he hummed once again, moving his hand in a way to ask you to sit in the opposite chair. The chair creaked a bit as you sat, giving an unexpected chill down your spine.
“When I speak to you, you respond to me in words. No nods. Understood?” he scolded you, his tone of voice making you twitch.
“Yes.” you squeaked out, almost silently.
“Yes, what…?” Prince Aemond asked you, testing you to see your limits. “Yes, my Prince.”
“Good girl. You learn quickly.” he purred, standing up from his chair to approach you. You froze as he did, not wanting to mess up. This was your only chance at survival. The Prince circled you, almost as a lion did to its prey not once, not twice, but three times. You couldn’t meet his gaze.
“What is your name…?” he asked, now standing in front of you. You answered him swiftly with your name and your house.
“Your father bent the knee to the Princess Rhaenyra, is that correct?”
Your heart skipped a beat. He had? You genuinely had no clue, as you were already living in Harrenhal with your betrothed as the war broke out.
“M-my father, your grace, I have not seen him in many moons.” you quivered, your eyes fixated on the brick of the fireplace.
“But yet you are his kin…” Aemond sighed, picking up a lock of your hair in his hands. “Such a shame. Ironic, isn’t it? He had pledged his allegiance to Rhaenyra, and yet you are mine.” he chuckled. His laugh sent chills down your spine. You stayed silent.
“How old are you?” he asked, dropping your piece of hair and looking down at you menacingly.
“Twenty, your grace.” you replied hastily, afraid of his presence. “And I suspect you were betrothed to a Strong boy, is that it…?”
You nodded.
“Use your words,” he said demeaningly, his long lanky fingers meeting your chin as he pulled your sad eyes up to meet his gaze. “Yes, my Prince.” “Good girl.”
His words went straight between your thighs. “I think I’ll like you,” he says, letting go of your chin. Tears brimmed your eyes. “Do not worry. I will not touch you tonight.” he says somewhat softer, as he grabs your hand. You didn’t even realize they were shaking. “Touch me?” you asked, looking up at him.
“Oh yes. Don’t you understand what this is…?” he asked, making her feel like an idiot. The way he spoke was so demeaning, making her feel like she was the stupidest person alive. How had she not figured out what this was yet? “No.” she whispered. It was all making sense now.
“You are mine. Mine to do with what I please. My spoil, as some say. You will do as I say, won’t you?” he asked, letting go of your shaking hand. You felt like your tongue was numb as he spoke. No emotion was shown on your face as you felt him kneel down in front of you. He placed a hand on your thigh.
“Are you afraid of me?” he asked after a while. You met his gaze as he looked up to you, he seemed like an evil spirit had possessed him. His face was different, his lips curled into a cruel smirk. You were speechless again. Aemond was getting obviously annoyed by your lack of response. “You should be,” he said, his grip on your thigh tightening as your breath quickened. “Tell me, my Lady. Are you going to be a good girl and listen to me? Be my plaything, my lover, my company… or would you rather join the Silent Sisters? I cannot kill such a beauty as yourself.”
His other hand moved to caress your cheek. He awaited your answer.
“I-I…” you stuttered. The Prince grew impatient. “Answer me, now!” he yelled at you. You finally cracked.
“Yes, yes, I’ll listen, I'm sorry.” you cried, cringing at the sudden raising of his voice. His cruel smile only widened. “Good girl.”
-
He was gentle to you at first, but every time after grew harsher and harsher. He often prided himself on seeing you at his mercy, his hand on your stomach as he fucked you slowly. He liked the way you muttered his name as he held you in his arms as you were about to reach your peak. He enjoyed watching you leak his seed out on your thighs as you rested in bed after a long night of pleasure.
Even if he was rough, he never treated you as his whore. He would often put your own pleasure above his, which was quite unexpected. In many senses around the camp, you were seen as his Queen. Even if that was far from the truth.
He never liked it much when you spoke. He had no desire to know about your life, your dislikes, and interests, or anything remotely personal about you. He used you. He took and took and gave nothing in return, besides a mutual pleasure for each other. He took your company, as you would sleep next to him in his bed every night. He never held you or whispered sweet nothings to you as you fell asleep. He took your time, as you waited around for him all day. You had grown quite lazy and bored, with close to nothing to do. He took your worth. Yes, he didn’t treat you as his whore. But he would call you names that made you feel like one. You figured it made him feel better about himself, making you beg for his cock and calling you a slut afterward. Aemond would often tell you mid fucking about how beautiful you would look bearing his bastards. Or how good you looked with him buried inside of you.
Aemond had returned for the night. You had gotten used to the angry footsteps and the sudden whooshing open of the tent door flap when he would return from his days. You hadn’t seen him for five days. You heard of his return to the camp by a few passing soldiers and expected his presence in your chambers tonight. But tonight seemed different. It was eerie how quiet he was. He was usually eager to get his armor off and to fuck you, but tonight was more solemn. He angrily threw his eyepatch on the floor and kicked his armor. It startled you a bit as you watched him seemingly throw a tantrum. Mentally preparing yourself for a night of torture, you began your routine as you had in the past few weeks and began undressing.
“No,” he said, emotionless, not facing to look at you. You stopped. This had never happened. He took off his armor and set it aside, and made his way slowly to the bed in his underclothes. You sat on the bed, unsure of what to do. He couldn’t look at you. Aemond could sense your confusion and your uncertainty.
“Not tonight.” he said, his voice sounding weaker and weaker with each syllable. “Oh.” you said quietly, adjusting your nightgown back on comfortably. You sat in bed next to him.
He reached up a hand and took a lock of your hair in it and twirled it in his fingers. He hummed. You just looked down at what he was doing and watched his fingers, then looked into his gaze. He seemed to have revealed an emotion, for the first time in weeks. Sadness.
You wanted to ask what was wrong but decided to keep your mouth shut. He didn’t like when you talked.
He waited a long time before he spoke. He sat there, not moving, and seemingly staring into space. Groups of soldiers marched by, the only sound breaking the deafening silence between the two of you. You knew better than to speak.
“How has Hilda been treating you?” he asks quietly, still not meeting your gaze.
“Hilda?” you asked, confused. “Your maid.” he said annoyed that you didn’t know what he was talking about. His tongue had a sharp, defensive tone to it.
“Oh,” you replied, confused as to why he was making conversation. He never usually did. “She’s been kind.”
Aemond nodded. He was trying. So hard. He just didn’t know how to approach you with what he really needed tonight. Kindness was something he had not equipped in a while.
“Come,” he said, placing a hand on your back suddenly. You were hesitant. “I won’t hurt you.”
You listened to him and scooted over in the bed, lying next to Aemond as he wrapped his arms around you in a sudden movement. Your stomach was filled with butterflies and fear as he did, he pulled you closer to him. You had so many questions, questions you wished to ask and knew you couldn’t. And you stood still as touched you, confused as to what he wanted from you.
“Do you want me to embrace you?” you asked softly. He nodded, burying his head near your chest and the crook of your neck. You could feel his warm breath on your neck.
What the fuck was this…?
One of your hands wrapped around his head and cradled it as the other moved to his back and gave him some small circles with your fingers. He let out a long sigh.
He looked up at you as he rested in your arms. His eyes were wet and his face was one you had never seen before. Aemond seemed like a complete stranger at that moment. “Do you love me?” he asked her with a tired voice.
She most certainly did not. But that was not the answer he was currently seeking.
“I do,” she said, caressing the side of his face and moving stray strands of hair out of the way. He just held her tighter and placed his head back on your chest, his breathing becoming shallow as he tried to hold in the tears. You were so utterly confused. He knew she truly didn’t love him. But he needed to know if she was obedient enough to lie for him. To hold his secrets, to be an extension of just his thing to toy with. He needed somebody desperately right now, and the only thing he craved was touch. Touch and your attention. He didn’t love you and you didn’t love him. But it hurt nobody to just play the part they were supposed to that night. He was in need.
“I-I went to Rook’s Rest,” Aemond began to speak. His tone was different from his usual commands, he sounded scared. You had never seen this side of him before. She nodded, stroking his hair as he spoke. “My brother, Aegon, and I…”
You had never heard him speak of the King so informally.
“We fought our cousin Rhaenys and her dragon… and we won but-” his voice hitched. He was… he was shaking? “It’s okay.” you said softly, daring to speak as your lover shook in your grasp.
You knew tears were now falling down his cheeks but didn’t dare to say a single thing about it. You knew deep down, he was just a scared little boy. Aemond was only twenty as you were. His big persona of being a ruthless kinslayer was peeling back and he was revealing himself to you. It was something he never did, only in the solemn private moments with his mother years ago.
He had broken at the sight of what he was about to tell her.
“Aegon got hurt. Really bad.”
He was telling you confidential information about the King. He was trusting you. “I-I’m sorry.” you replied sincerely. His hands moved around your ribcage and the other snaked around your back. He felt the fabric of your dress and played with it between his fingers as he tried to calm himself. “H-he can’t walk and he’s burned terribly and he’s barely conscious, and his dragon is injured, and... You-you mustn't tell anyone.” he whimpered, his tone stiffening at the last sentence as his ramblings came to an end. “Never,” you whispered, combing through his hair with your fingers to try and calm him.
“I’m- they made me… they made me Prince Regent.” Aemond confessed as the words left his lips with a sour taste. You could tell he was terrified.
Oh shit.
Aemond in a sense, was King. She finally understood how dire King Aegon’s condition was and understood why Aemond had been acting so strangely that night.
“Isn’t that a good thing?” you asked him softly, trying to look to the positive side. If the positive side even existed in this situation.
“No!” he seemingly barked at you suddenly, making you tense a bit. “I’m sorry…” he whispered, running his hand over the side of your ribcage and down to your hips. You had never heard this man once apologize for anything. He looked up to you with his red eyes as he craved your touch. You cupped his cheek, clearing the tears from his right cheek with your thumb. You knew he was afraid. Shocked. Terrified. And he was asking for you.
“I will pray for the King’s recovery, your grace.”
“Aemond…” he said softly. You were confused and he read it on your face. “When-when we’re like this. Don’t bother with the titles. I am just Aemond.”
You nodded.
“I will pray for the King’s recovery, Aemond.” you corrected yourself. “And that your reign may be successful.”
She kissed the top of his head. He held her close.
“Everything will be okay.”
He held you like that for the rest of the night. No violence. No sex. No words. Just you and him, in a moment where he could have his last bit of clarity before he had to put the mask back on and perform for everyone else in his life. He was quite thankful for you that night. Aemond wept quietly as you held the most powerful man in Westeros all throughout that night.
-
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make it taste like love
Loki x Reader
Summary: You felt him before you even met him. And despite the pain he carried around, his soul was one of the most beautiful you'd ever seen.
A/N: A spur-of-the-moment idea that I simply couldn't ignore. I really hope you guys enjoy it, and yes I'm working on part two of my series with Loki as well. <3
Word count: 6k
Masterlist
The battle had left its mark on everyone, both physically and mentally. All the lives that were lost wouldn't be brought back. But everyone took solace in the fact that Thanos and his army were no longer a threat. And now, it was a time for rebuilding.
Wakanda's grassland was a battlefield. Bodies of both friend and foe lay scattered on the ground. The mourning loomed heavy in the air, you could feel it weighing down on your chest, your throat, and lungs. It was suffocating, prickling into your skin like needles. Yet you still walked, your boots crushing the grass underneath while you avoided stepping on stretched arms and legs, you needed to make sure no one else remained left behind.
A few feet away, the mad titan who once threatened the entire universe lay lifeless on the ground, his head disconnected from his body. For him, you felt no pity.
King T'Challa was both happy and sad to see you and the others leave. Happy, because it meant the end of a war; sad, because of having to say farewell to dear friends. But you, Steve, Natasha, and Banner were needed back in town, back at the Avengers compound; to welcome Tony back on earth, and because Thanos' attack had reverberated in many other places. It seemed like the Avengers were back in the game.
─── ·❆· ───
This morning was a gloomy one. Grey skies peeked behind your curtains in the early hours of the day, maybe it would rain soon. It's been two weeks since the battle, and you were glad to see that most people were recovering; each in their own way, but recovering nonetheless.
You were already up when the clock hit 7:30 AM, holding a warm cup of coffee between your hands, and staring out into the compound's driveway and past the treeline through the big windows of the kitchen. Today would be the day that Thor came back, he'd been helping with the settling of his people in New Asgard until now, but you've heard about him not wanting to be king anymore. You were happy for him, you never did think that a ruler's life suited him anyway—and you missed your friend.
"He gets one chance, Rogers. One chance and that's it." Tony's voice suddenly caught your attention as he stepped into the kitchen, you turned your back to the window so you could watch as your resident Iron Man poured himself a cup of coffee without looking at his mug. Steve was right beside him, his hands on his hips as he sighed quietly, already all too used to Tony's moods.
"Yes, one chance, he proved himself enough by helping us fight against Thanos, I suppose we owe him the benefit of the doubt," Steve agreed, still holding his voice calm.
With a smirk on your lips, you approached your teammates. "What's going on, guys?" You leaned on the kitchen island, taking a sip of your coffee.
Tony ran his tongue over his bottom lip, his expression less than pleased as he took a sip of his own coffee before saying; "point break is bringing his beloved brother to our home." He shrugged, and said in a quieter tone, "Says he changed or something."
"Loki will be staying with us?" You raised an eyebrow. The attack on New York happened before you joined the team, but you were familiar enough with it to be wary of Thor's brother, even if Thor did speak more nicely of him recently. Still, you had never actually met Loki to form your own opinion.
"That's… to be decided," Tony grumbled, shooting a glance toward Steve. "But yes, pretty much. And, by the way, Strange wasn't happy about having reindeer games back in the city either."
"Wow, you guys finally agree on something," you snickered.
Tony mouthed a 'don't' to you, before Steve said; "Strange knows we'll handle it if anything happens, but Thor vouches for him, so…"
You gave Steve a soft smile, and as much as you understood Tony's wariness, you agreed with the Captain. Loki didn't have the best of pasts with the City, but his help in the recent battle was one of many game-changers. He deserved a second chance.
Strangely enough, you found yourself excited to meet the God of Mischief. It was in your nature to analyze people, watch them from afar, and learn about the things they'd rather not say out loud. And someone like Loki, who had both once tried to take over your planet and now helped in saving it, was bound to raise some curiosity.
No more than an hour passed before you heard Thor's strong voice all the way from the living room. A small smile instantly came to your lips as you discarded your book, got up from the couch, and put on your slippers, rushing to the main doors to greet him.
Before you could turn the last corner, however, you came to an abrupt halt. Your breath got caught up in your throat and you had to lean back on the wall for support. Clutching the fabric of your shirt right above your heart, you were glad that this particular hallway was currently empty.
You could hear Thor's voice just around the corner, Tony was there too, but their words were faint and far away. Your vision was suddenly a little blurry, and underneath your palm you could feel your heart beating frantically.
See, this was nothing that hadn't happened before, after all, you are an empath. But a feeling this heavy rarely comes unannounced, unwanted. It briefly reminded you of when you first discovered your power, when you had no control and could pick up on pain, anger, joy, and pleasure that were not your own even if you didn't want to. Yet now, after years of living with it, you had learned to dose your perception of the feelings around you; now, when you weren't willingly focusing, other people's emotions felt more like a gentle whisper, a gush of chilly wind on your skin—something you were able to ignore if you wanted to.
But this overwhelming sadness; this emptiness, and loss, and pain; it came to you with such force that you were not able to block out. Seconds felt like hours, until the surprise of the new feeling passed and you took back control. Whispers of it remained, lurking in your stomach and in the back of your throat, but with a bit of extra focus, you were able to handle it.
And once your mind was finally clear again, it hit you. Who did you catch these feelings from?
You took a step around the corner cautiously, hands buried in your pockets as your eyes roamed your surroundings. There was no one around besides Tony, Thor, and Loki.
You knew it right away. You were familiar with the emotions radiating from Tony and Thor; but him, the raven-haired trickster, he was new, and if you didn't feel empathy for him before, you did now.
Loki held himself immaculately, a straight posture and a serene expression on his face. You had no idea how he did it, how he was able to hold all of those feelings in and still look so well put together; because one glance into his soul and you already felt like crying.
There was a light drizzle falling outside, maybe that's why Loki's black blazer seemed to be shining under the bright lights of the entrance hall. His eyes—bright and ocean-green—were settled on you; the realization got you feeling hyperaware of each movement you made. Even his gaze was heavy.
Thor's booming voice calling your name captured your attention then, he had a big smile on his face and before you knew it he already had your feet off the floor as he held you in a hug.
You laughed against his shoulder, hugging him back just as tight and telling him all about how much you missed him. Still, when you let go, your eyes found Loki's again, he hadn't stopped looking at you once.
─── ·❆· ───
The opinions about Loki's presence in the compound were mixed, but most of your teammates seemed fine with it; truth be told, no one paid much attention to him. As you'd expected, Loki's room was on your floor, because that's where Thor stayed too; as well as Tony, Natasha, and Yelena.
It's been a few days since his arrival, yet you haven't had the opportunity to properly speak with him, alone. But you've been feeling him a lot. Whether it was you subconsciously focusing on him more, or something else, it seemed like your body was more in tune and connected with his than you've ever been with anyone else. You picked up on a few of his emotions even if you weren't actively trying to; you felt his bouts of uneasiness when someone would stare at him for too long, you felt his gentle serenity whenever he'd sit near the windows to read a book, you felt his sparks of joy when people greeted him with a good morning or asked if he'd want coffee; but most of all, you still felt that lingering sadness that followed him everywhere he went, a weight he seemed to be all too used to having around.
In some ways, you felt as if you were invading his privacy, and that bothered you. During the day you tried to keep your mind as busy as you could to keep yourself from feeling him; in the late hours of the night though, when you were trying to sleep, there wasn't much you could do.
You have been tossing and turning in bed for probably about two hours now, drifting in and out of sleep. The crescent moon just outside your window seemed to be taunting you, amused with your misfortune. You scoffed as you glared at the natural satellite—great, now you were arguing with the cosmos.
Loki was having a nightmare. You could tell by the rapid beating of his heart and the cold sweat running down his forehead—your abilities went way beyond simply feeling other people's emotions, but sometimes you wished they wouldn't. It's not the first time that you've felt Loki's restless sleep in the short time he's been here. Your heart ached for him; it got you wanting to alleviate his pain.
But you couldn't do that, so you got up from your bed, put on your fluffy slippers, and made a beeline for the kitchen. The air outside was chilly, biting at your warm skin and making you shiver. At this hour of the night, the compound was completely dark and quiet, a big contrast to how it was when the sun was up. You asked Friday to turn on one of the lights in the kitchen, giving the space a dim-lit look as the single light bled into the adjacent living room.
You rubbed the sleep from your eyes, humming the lyrics of the song stuck in your head as you reached for the upper cabinet to grab a mug so you could make yourself some tea. When you turned around again though, a gasp escaped your mouth and you nearly dropped the mug you were holding. You cursed quietly under your breath, placing a hand over your heart; if you weren't fully awake before, you sure were now. "You scared me," you muttered, trying a small smile.
The reason for your lack of sleep stood before you, with dark green slippers that matched his button-up pajama shirt, and his hair the messier you've ever seen it be. "Sorry, it was not my intention," Loki smirked back at you.
It hit you that this was finally the first time you were alone with him, and you'd been caught off guard. You tapped your mug, opening your lips but no words came out. Loki's eyes remained on you, unwavering, yet his gaze was so… soft, gentle even; his eyebrows weren't creased and he patiently waited for you with his hands in the pockets of his checkered pajama pants. He didn't look like the god you usually saw roaming the halls during the day.
"It's alright. I was just making tea," you said finally, gesturing to your mug, "would you like me to make one for you too?"
Loki's surprise at your offer was so great that you felt it in your bones. What was he expecting you to do?
His lips parted only slightly and he straightened his posture before saying; "I would- yes, I would like that."
You couldn't help the full smile that came to your lips and crinkled the side of your eyes, "great, sit down, it'll be ready in just a moment."
The warm mug between your hands warmed up your skin. It felt nice, sitting like this with Loki; in a quiet kitchen with only you and him, and just the lonely light to your left softly highlighting his features in front of you. It was a peaceful silence, and you couldn't help but check if he felt it too.
The rhythm of his heart was calm, his soul felt light and at ease; not completely, but the most you've ever felt from him.
"Why are you here?" His sultry voice snapped you back to reality.
"Uh- I'm sorry?" You frowned.
"Why are you here, if I may ask?" Loki tilted his head amusedly, his fingers tracing the brim of his mug. "Thor mentioned you had… abilities, but he never specified what they are."
Now it was your turn to be surprised by his curiosity for you. "Well, to put it simply, I'm an empath," you told him.
Loki blinked, once, twice, at your response. He looked at you for a moment before inquiring further; "and to put it completely?"
You smirked then, folding your arms over the table. "I can feel people's emotions, if I want to; their anger, happiness, hesitation, fear. But I can also feel their heartbeats, the blood cursing through their bodies. I can tell when they're lying or telling the truth, if they're tired or hurt. And sometimes, I can influence those emotions," you paused, hesitating for a beat, "bring fear, or… take away pain."
Loki grew tense after learning of what you could do. To be fair, most people did at first, you were used to it. Be he felt different, his heartbeat sped up and stayed that way. He'd put his guard up, and it brought a pang of hurt to your chest.
"Are you always feeling everything then?" He narrowed his eyes.
"Gods, no," you breathed, "at first I did, and it was awful. But with time, I learned to control it." You tried smiling at him, but his eyes were downcast, focused on his mug.
You bit your lower lip in nervousness. Looking past Loki and out the window, you could see the first signs of the sunrise peeking over the horizon, dark skies turning a soft lilac and blue; you'd been here longer than you realized.
When Loki glanced up at you again, his bright eyes still held sparks of that same softness from earlier. He pursed his lips in a smile; "thank you for the tea." And with that, he got up and left, leaving you in the company of the first birds who always sang in the mornings.
─── ·❆· ───
You made Loki nervous. It wasn't a bad kind of nervous, it was the kind that sped up his heart and made his cold hands feel clammy.
Out of everyone in the compound, you were the kindest. You'd always shoot him a smile whenever you'd pass by each other in the hallways; you'd always save a seat for him at the table; you always respected his silence whenever you came into the library and caught him reading his book, saying a quiet hello and nothing more, just sitting on one of the armchairs with your own book and allowing him to enjoy his moment, and more recently, your presence too.
When he'd finally learned of your abilities, he got apprehensive, worried even; that you'd pick up on whatever it was that he felt when he was near you, and it would drive you away.
So far, it hasn't happened yet.
The sun was out today, and with it, so was everyone else. In the spacious backyard of the compound, Steve was in charge of the barbecue, and Tony was in charge of the drinks. Natasha had sunglasses covering her eyes while she and Clint bickered over a game of cards; Yelena was sitting beside her sister at the lunch table, however, she seemed to be on Clint's side of the argument. Thor and Banner were laughing together as they made fun of Steve's cooking skills, who tried to defend himself by saying he wasn't actually done yet. Tony looked like he was trying to convince Bucky to drink a dubious-looking beverage, the latter didn't seem too keen on it.
And Loki watched them from afar, from the living room window of his floor. Thor had asked that he join them downstairs, saying something about how he should start trying to fit in and mingle, instead of just existing in the others' presence. Making friends wasn't Loki's forte; as much as he'd fight not to admit it, he was still working up the courage.
With a long sigh, Loki turned around and made his way to the place where he'd been spending most of his free time.
The compound's library was quite huge. One of the few rooms in the whole facility that had warm colors painting the walls and lacked the modern look; tall wooden shelves held thousands of books, a soft beige carpet covered the floor, and there were armchairs and sofas scattered in corners and in-between shelves creating comfortable, isolated nooks for reading. Loki's favorite spot was a worn armchair that stood near one of the big windows, it was surrounded by books that most people didn't read anymore, and the window itself overlooked the treeline in which the sun hid behind at the end of every day; sometimes as he sat there to read, it reminded him of his room back in Asgard.
Loki walked brushing his fingers over the spine of the old books, watching as dust particles danced in the sunlight. But as he rounded the shelf that led to his spot, he abruptly stopped in his tracks, feet glued to the carpet.
You sat cross-legged on the worn armchair, with a thick book lying in your lap that held all of your attention; the sun was shining right behind you, creating a halo above your head and bathing the strands of your hair in golden. You looked like something out of his favorite tale, more enchanting than all of the Midgard poetry books he's ever read.
It seemed like you two were making a habit of bumping into each other unexpectedly.
Loki gulped, squaring his shoulders. A beat passed, and then two, until you finally noticed him from the corner of your eyes. You looked up at him with your eyebrows softly raised in surprise, a gentle smile lifted the sides of your mouth; "Loki, hi."
"Hello," Loki greeted you slowly, his eyes shifting from the book in your lap to your eyes, "shouldn't you be out with the others, enjoying the sun?"
"Should I?" You narrowed your eyes, lazily closing your book and getting up from the armchair. "Shouldn't you?" You asked then, smirking as you raised an eyebrow and took a step towards him.
Loki's heart stumbled inside his chest, he breathed out a laugh. "I'm not big on hangouts."
You hummed, burying your hands in the pockets of your jeans. "Why is that?"
For a moment, Loki dwelled on whether to be honest or come up with an easy lie. But you were looking up at him with such delicacy, such attention, not a trace of hatred or judgment in your warm eyes. It almost looked as if you cared... about him.
Loki breathed in sharply through his nose, the words rolled off his tongue on their own; "I doubt many of your friends would enjoy my presence there."
You blinked up at him, lips parting before you told him quietly; "I would."
There was a distant burning behind Loki's eyes, his mouth felt dry. No one had ever rendered him completely speechless before, yet now, you had done just that. With his silence, you avoided his eyes and ran your tongue over your bottom lip in a motion that he couldn't help but follow.
"And..." You continued, voice sweet as honey, traveling between the bookshelves in the secluded library, "We'll never know if we don't try, right?"
The way you referred to you and him as 'we' got a foreign feeling blossoming inside Loki's chest, all warm and tingly. When you offered him your hand, so you could guide him downstairs to meet the others, he took it.
─── ·❆· ───
After a full week of taking care of the whole city, Saturday nights were a time for having fun and relaxing; aka movie nights with the team. Everyone sat together in the main living room of the compound, Tony had labeled it 'mandatory bonding day'. The room itself was pretty spacious, dimly lit, with two big comfortable couches and a TV that almost covered the whole wall, and a small kitchen right beside it for easy snacks and drinks.
"Right, I'm thinking... Terminator." Tony suggested as he came from the kitchen with an extra large bowl of popcorn in his arms.
"We saw that one already," Steve complained as he fumbled with the remote.
"There are multiple ones," Tony said, smugly, as he plopped himself on the couch and threw popcorn in his mouth.
Thor, who sat beside you, suddenly perked up with a giddy smile on his face; "oh I've always enjoyed that one who has the girl with the long, magic hair." The god gestured to his own hair.
Tony gaped at him, his fingers holding the popcorn were frozen midair. "Tangled?" He exclaimed then, eyebrows raised, "You wanna watch Tangled? in my house?"
You fought to hide a smile. "Technically it's our house," you quipped, after all, you were to blame for Thor's love for the Disney movie.
"Why don't we just watch both? The night is still young," Yelena finally suggested from her spot by the corner of the couch.
As they continued bickering, your eyes finally caught sight of the one you'd been waiting for.
Loki walked into the living room quietly, his socked feet barely making any noise on the expensive flooring. His gaze found yours before he saw anything else in the room, and a gentle, shy smile appeared on his lips.
You'd grown very close, very fast. Loki had started seeking your presence more and more each passing day; during the mornings he'd wait for you with an extra cup of coffee in hand, during the missions it was already routine that you two were a pair, and during the night you never parted ways without him planting a kiss on your forehead first.
Never in your life had you met someone quite like him, who carried such a bruised heart and still managed to be so loving. It made you wonder if anyone had ever bothered to see how beautiful his soul was, for you had fallen in love with it before you even touched his skin.
You gently patted the vacant seat on your left side, lifting the thin blanket covering your legs so Loki could sit down, and once he did you draped part of it over his legs as well.
"What's today's punishment?" Loki smirked, making himself comfortable beside you. His shoulder flush with yours.
"Stop it, movie nights are nice. I know you secretly enjoy them too," you chuckled, bumping his knee with yours. His proximity raised goosebumps all over your skin, and if you weren't so focused on your own feelings, you would've felt how much Loki's heart was racing as well.
"I only come to these because you do too," Loki mumbled, his eyes focused on the TV and a frown appearing on his eyebrows as the first scenes from Tangled played on the screen.
Your breath caught on your throat. He had said it so casually, so easily. You wondered if he had even realized the weight of his own words. "Right," you whispered, a little breathless.
It didn't take long for the only light in the room to be the one coming from the TV. When Tangled hit the 45-minute mark, Tony was already snoring and Thor had finished two bowls of popcorn. You, however, were wide awake and fully aware of Loki's arm resting on the back of the couch. What a cliche move, you thought to yourself, your cheeks burning hot and biting back a smile.
Loki's face as he watched the movie was nothing short of comical, one would think he was watching a period drama; his lips hovering ever so slightly before he'd scoff at a musical scene, his eyes softening as the romance between Rapunzel and Flynn blossomed, the way he mindlessly played with the ends of your hair. You watched him more than you watched the movie, and you didn't miss the way he froze and gulped when you finally rested your head on his shoulder.
─── ·❆· ───
The day had started out fine; a cold yet sunny morning, your fingers brushing Loki's when he handed you your cup of coffee, no eminent trouble in the city, everything was normal and fine; until it took a turn for the worse.
You didn't hear the fight, you didn't know exactly what caused it, but you felt it immediately. Anger, hurt, and pain were suddenly heavy in the air even through the closed door of your bedroom. As soon as a shiver ran up and down your spine you got up and all but ran outside to chase the somber feeling.
The elevator doors of your floor weren't even fully open yet when Loki busted his way through them, Thor hot on his heels.
"I knew it was a mistake coming here," Loki snapped, his steps fast as he put as much distance between himself and Thor as he could, nearly running straight into you in the process.
"You know what, brother," Thor began, he had stopped walking, standing in the middle of the living room, "Maybe it really was a mistake to bring you here, you don't care about anyone but yourself, it's almost as if you enjoy hurting people, you can't help it. It'll always be like this, that's why you're better off on your own." Thor wasn't shouting, but his words rang loudly in the room; his chest heaving when he stopped speaking.
You had held your breath the entire time, gripping the back of a kitchen stool until your knuckles turned white. Thor was angry, you could feel it even without being near him, but he didn't mean what he had said, not entirely. Thor's emotions were a passing wind on your skin though, for who you really felt, stood just a few feet behind you.
Loki had his back turned to his brother when he spoke, and he didn't turn around after. Even without looking at him, you could feel the way he trembled, unsteady hands closed into tight fists to mask his hurt; he gulped back a sob, and kept on walking to his bedroom without a word.
You could choke with the amount of pain radiating off of Loki; heavy, sickening, all-encompassing pain that you felt so vividly in your skin and bones. You only shot Thor an angry glance and muttered; "Damnit Thor," before turning around hastily. You thought you heard Thor calling after you, but you decided to ignore him, your priorities already set.
You ran after Loki, catching up just before his door slammed shut. Taking a deep breath, you walked into his bedroom and softly closed the door behind you with a click.
You'd never actually been in Loki's room before, so you took a single moment to glance around. The room itself was a little bare, with only the necessities such as a double bed, a dresser, a desk, a small bookshelf, and the door that led to his bathroom. You made a mental note to gift him something to liven up his space; maybe a plant.
Loki had his back turned to you still, both his hands resting on his waist as his head hung low. But you knew he knew it was you there with him, by the simple fact that he was allowing you to stay.
The silence was a heavy one, packed with the electricity of two souls tightly holding onto each other. Loki was trying so hard to keep all his pain in control, his shoulders shaking with each breath he took; but you could feel it as if it was your own.
"Loki," you said his name in nothing but breath, testing the waters. You took half a step toward him as you fidgeted with your hands.
He didn't answer. You weren't expecting him to.
You pursed your lips before saying; "he didn't mean it," your voice was choked and took effort to come out, the back of your eyes already burning, "what Thor said. He- he didn't mean it."
A few beats passed, and then; "doesn't matter if he did." Loki's words cracked in the middle, it was the most broken you'd ever heard him sound. "He's right."
"He's not," you told him in the same heartbeat, not a tint of hesitation in your tone.
Loki turned around, his gaze finally finding yours and there were tears pooling at the bottom lid of his bright eyes. "Yes, he is," he took a single big step toward you, nearly closing the distance between you and him. Loki's lips trembled as he struggled to keep talking; "and why is it that you care? What's in it for you?"
He was hurt, and he was frustrated, and he was angry; you knew that. Still, you couldn't help but be taken aback by his question. What could he even mean by that? Did he really believe that all this time that you'd been dancing around each other's feelings, it wasn't real?
"Loki, I-" you stuttered, not knowing how to say it without baring your heart in the process. Your hesitation got Loki avoiding his eyes from yours, and you forced yourself to go on. "There's nothing 'in it for me' I just... care about you."
Still waiting for the other shoe to drop, Loki softly shook his head, scoffing. His tears were a blink away from spilling, he felt as if barbed wire was wrapped around his throat, and his heart threatened to jump from his chest and straight into your hands.
It scared him. How easily you could make his walls crumble like paper in the rain. He flinched slightly when he felt the ghost of your touch on his cheek, blinking multiple times when your thumb brushed away a single tear rolling down his cheek. You touched him as if he were porcelain, and yet it still broke him.
"Is it that hard to believe that you're important to me?" You asked then, voice nothing but a whisper in the short space separating your bodies. With your hand still holding his cheek, you forced his eyes back on yours. "You have a good heart, Loki. I just wish you could see it the way I do. I wish everyone could see it."
The crooked smile he gave you nearly made your own tears fall. "You don't know what you're talking about, you don't know what I've done," he told you quietly, more than anything, he sounded utterly defeated.
"But I do know," your free hand found one of his then, and you tangled your fingers together loosely, "I might not have been with the Avengers when you attacked New York, but I was still in New York. And I still mean it, you could tell me every single bad thing you've ever done and I'd still tell you how good you are, because I see it. Every single day, Loki. I feel you every single day, and I can feel all this-" Your words caught in your throat and you tasted your tears on your lips. "-All this pain that you carry around and you still choose to be good."
Too many emotions swam behind his eyes for you to put a finger in any of them. But tears were running freely down Loki's cheeks now, pooling against your hand resting on his cheek.
"What did you-" he tried, gasping for air as if he was underwater. This was foreign territory. You had a place in his heart no one else could ever have, he realized, and his heart was beating faster than his mind knew what to do with. "You've been prying into my emotions without me knowing?" He sounded more desperate than annoyed.
"I didn't want to," You explained quickly, "I- I never meant to, but for some reason, I can't block you out." Shrugging weakly, you slowly dropped the hand resting on his cheek, missing the way he glanced down in search of your warmth. "I tried. I really tried."
There was a vulnerability in Loki's eyes you'd never seen before. He looked at you as if he'd just realized what love is. You wondered if you mimicked the same gaze—you sure felt it.
Loki shuffled in his stance. His hand, still holding onto yours, tightened its grip. "I'm-" He avoided your eyes, looking somewhere past your shoulder, "I'm sorry you had to feel all that."
You softened at his words, shaking your head and taking another step forward until your sneakers bumped his shoes. "Wasn't your fault," you whispered.
Loki gulped back a sob after you spoke, and that was the last straw for you to let go of his hand and pull his body to yours in an embrace.
He melted into you.
Loki's fingers dug into the fabric of your shirt and he buried his head against your shoulder—you soon felt it becoming damp, yet you only hugged him tighter. With the desperation he was holding you with, you wondered when was the last time someone had held him.
The soft sobs escaping him were muffled against you. And you couldn't help but stroke his back, the tips of your fingers burying into his very soul. "I'm sorry you had to go through all of this alone." You spoke near his ear, feeling the goosebumps that raised on his skin. "You never deserved it," you promised.
You weren't sure how much time passed, you stayed there for as long as Loki needed you to. When he eventually pulled away, he didn't go far, his hands kept holding your body close to him as if he was afraid you'd leave if he let go.
His bright eyes didn't hold a storm anymore, they were more like a calm sea. A soft frown etched itself into his eyebrows, "did you… take away my pain?"
You chuckled quietly, "No, I can't take away people's emotions." You lifted a hand until your fingertips could brush the skin on his forehead, "But I can make them lighter." You traced an invisible line over his eyebrow and until you reached his cheekbone, "Make the weight just a little bit easier to carry."
Loki leaned into your touch, almost closing his eyes. His hands that rested on your back traced your spine and pulled you closer. "Darling, you've been making it easier ever since the first day I met you."
⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ
Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keeps me motivated to continue posting here, so I’d appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment. <3
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Welcome to Your Life
Pairing: dark vampire!Steve Rogers x f!reader
Word Count: ~3.75k
Summary: During a drunken night out on vacation, you're brought to a strange club and presented to a mysterious man. Part of Everybody Wants to Rule the World
Warnings: Horror elements, dark elements, mind control, some blood and gore, feeding on humans, captivity, dub/con, SMUT - All of my work is 18+ - Minors DNI
Divider by @saradika
We're All Monsters
Masterlist
A/N: And here it is, the first part of Vampire Steve's solo story! If you missed his introduction, it was in I Can't Sleep Cause My Bed's On Fire. You don't need to read that before you read this, but some of the world-building (specifically how his club works) might be helpful. Plus, it's a vampire threesome, so 🥵🥵🥵
This is also the first part of the new, super-expanded supernatural universe that I'm doing with @paperweight91, playing off of what I started with my Psycho Killer AU. Big thanks to Chelsea for all her help on this and for just how much fun it's been to come up with ideas with her for this whole universe.
Now, where it might get slightly confusing, but I really hope it doesn't. This story introduces a new character, Cutter, who will eventually be a reader in one of Chelsea's stories in her werewolf half of this au. She is not physically described at all here, other than being a woman. I hope it gets you excited about what @paperweight91 has in store for her.
As always, any comments, reblogs, or asks are very appreciated. You know how much I love this Steve. Please come screech with me about him!!!
You were shaking. That was the only thing you knew. You didn’t know where you were or what you were doing there. Not even how you’d gotten there, just that you were standing in the back room of some club, surrounded by people—were they people? Of course, they were. What else could they be?!—unable to move, and you couldn’t stop shaking.
You’d been on vacation with some friends in Berlin. You’d all decided to have a wild night out together but were quickly separated. While tipsily searching for them at a club, you’d bumped into a man, an American, who told you his name was Cole. And suddenly, looking for your friends didn’t seem as important. He’d told you he knew a great bar just a few blocks away. You didn’t really remember agreeing to go with him, but now you were here, in a room full of strangers who wouldn’t stop leering at you. No one had done anything or even said anything, but you knew in your bones that you were not safe. And yet, you couldn’t move.
Cole, especially, wouldn’t take his eyes off you, your neck in particular. You desperately wished for something to cover up your club attire. A woman was leaning against the wall in the corner, sharpening her ridiculously long nails with a knife. She looked up occasionally, and this time her gaze landed on Cole, a scowl on her face. “You know he gets first taste,” she said, before looking back down in disinterest.
“I know,” he said, his fingers drumming impatiently on his thigh.
“Everything has to get his approval before it goes on the menu,” she continued, still not looking up as she filed her nails to a terrifying point.
“Yes,” Cole gritted out, “I know that, Cutter. I’m not fucking new.”
“Then stop acting like you’re jonesing for your next fix. You’re that fucking hungry? Go get yourself something to eat that actually is on the menu.” Nothing they were saying made any sense.
He scowled at her, but started to leave the room, and then, suddenly, stopped. Everyone stopped. Cutter looked up, listening for something, then pushed herself off the wall and made her way over to you. She brushed one of her exceedingly sharp nails over your bottom lip. Looking you in the eye, she breathed, “Kneel, sweetheart.” And you were on your knees before you had any idea what had happened. She smiled at you and added, “Be quiet,” and you knew, in every cell, that you wouldn’t have been able to make any noise if you’d tried.
One of the doors opened and a tall, broad, beautiful man came into the room and you felt the energy of everything change. It was like it was all, yourself included, suddenly charged with electricity. You’d never felt anything like it. He zeroed in on you instantly and made his way over. You felt the instinct to cower, but it was far away, almost like it was behind a wall. And you still couldn’t move anyway. All you could do was shiver.
The man looked at you carefully. “Pretty,” he said, absently. He brushed his thumb over your lower lip just like Cutter had. Then he gripped your chin and angled it up so you were forced to make eye contact. “Give me your wrist,” he said and you couldn’t explain the feeling that moved through your body, only that you reached your wrist up to him, you had to, and waited for him to take it. He took it in his firm grip and placed his thumb right over your pulse point. He pressed down hard and smiled when you still didn’t move, didn’t react. It was like you didn’t know how. And then, something happened, so quickly you couldn’t process it. Fangs descended into his mouth and he lowered his head to your wrist and bit down hard. It was some of the worst pain you’d ever felt, but you didn’t pull away, didn’t make a sound. It wasn’t until you felt the wetness on your cheeks that you even realized you were crying. It was like all the different parts of you were separated.
He pulled his teeth from your wrist and then licked the wound clean. He grinned at you and said, “You have excellent taste in cocktails, honey.” Then he looked over at Cutter and his smile dropped. “She’s still drunk. You should have known better.”
Her mouth fell open, and then she flung her hand out at Cole who stood sheepishly on the other side of the room. “Cole’s the one who brought her in!”
He was in front of her in a blink, the arm that was still in the air now in his firm grasp. She grimaced. “And you know exactly how good his judgment is,” he growled.
“Steve,” she whispered, just barely loud enough for you to hear her.
The man (could you even call him that? Deep down you knew what he was), Steve, brought his face as close to hers as possible. “When I put you in charge,” he said, so lowly, “I expect you to be in charge.”
She just stared at him for a moment meeting his gaze, then dropped her own and nodded. He smiled fondly, you were surprised to see, and kissed her on the cheek. “You know he needs supervision.”
He made his way back to where you were still kneeling, now cradling your arm. He bent down to you slightly and stroked a hand down your neck. “There’s something there, though,” he said, although you weren’t sure who he was talking to. Certainly not to you. “Underneath everything else. I’ll try her again tomorrow and see how she is when the blood’s pure.”
You gazed up at him, confused, and he gripped your chin in his hand. “You may speak,” he said.
“I don’t understand what’s happening,” was all you could manage.
“Oh honey, of course, you don’t,” he said with a grin that frightened you. “The good news is that you’ll never need to understand anything ever again.” He looked back up at the room at large. “Set her up in a room upstairs.” He released your chin and made his way to the exit, pausing as he was almost out the door to call “Cole!” over his shoulder. The other man quickly followed him out of the room.
Cutter came to stand in front of you. She looked you in the eye and said, “Up,” and without thinking, you were on your feet. “Such a good girl,” she cooed. “Follow me,” and suddenly that was all you wanted to do.
The room she took you to was better described as a cell. There was a cot, a toilet, and a sink. No windows. Painted grey. It was tiny. Cutter left as soon as you were inside and you heard the door lock behind her.
You sat down on the bed and closed your eyes. You felt the urge to panic but it was like your body wouldn’t cooperate. Your heart rate stayed steady, your breaths even. You were calm, even if that was the last thing you wanted to be.
These people must have done something to you. People, right. You knew what they were. Every single one of them had stared at your neck. Steve had fangs and he’d literally drank your blood. You knew, even if an hour ago you would’ve sworn that was just fantasy. Vampires. You were being held captive by vampires. What the hell?
There was nothing to occupy your time in here except for your thoughts, so you curled up on the cot and tried to convince yourself that it was all a bizarre dream. Eventually, your exhaustion overtook you and you fell asleep.
You weren’t sure when exactly you woke up. You hadn’t seen a single window since Cole had brought you into the building last night. Because sunlight kills vampires, you thought to yourself, somewhat hysterically. Your memories of the night before were… weird. And not just because you swear someone drank your blood. They were patchy. And yes, you’d been drunk, but not that drunk. Not so drunk that you blacked out small portions of the night. And certainly not so drunk that you hallucinated vampires. Fuck. Fuck fuck fuck. There was no way out of the cell. Nothing in it that would help you. All you could do was wait for whatever it was that was coming for you.
Sometime later, hours probably, a slit in the door you hadn’t noticed before was opened, and a tray was slid through. Food. You gathered it quickly and sat on the bed. There was a carton of water and a plate with a large salad that was mostly made up of spinach and lentils. Iron-rich food, your mind supplied. The previous night seemed more and more real.
.You thought about refusing the salad, but you were so hungry, so you ate it. It was surprisingly good, but not what you would have chosen for what would probably be your last meal. You lay back down when you were finished, curled up on your side, and daydreamed of something more satisfying than a spinach salad.
More time passed. You stared at the walls and tried not to freak out. You wondered if your friends had made it back to the hotel. How long it took for them to realize you were missing. Were the police searching for you? Did your family know? You couldn’t help it when the tears started. You were pretty sure you were going to die here.
You dozed in and out for who knows how long. And then the door opened. Steve walked in with Cole behind him, carrying a chair. You jolted up and pressed yourself into the wall. “Stop,” Steve said, and everything did. “Calm down,” and you felt everything in your body slow. Suddenly, you couldn’t access whatever it was that you’d been so scared of. So you sat still and watched him.
Cole handed Steve the chair and he placed it in front of your cot. He sat down and looked at you. His gaze made you feel so small. He reached out his hand and brushed the backs of his fingers against your knee. A chill ran up your spine, not just fear, but an excitement too, that you couldn’t explain. “Give me your other wrist,” he said, lowly, and you immediately did. He took it in his hand and brought it up to his nose, forcing you to lean forward. He inhaled deeply. “Much better,” he said. “You’re all sobered up now, aren’t you?”
You didn’t respond. You knew, deep inside yourself, that he didn’t want you to. His fangs dropped and you braced yourself, something in the far recesses of your mind knowing that you should be scared. With a slight grin, he sank his teeth into your wrist. The pain was just as bad as the night before but soon, so much quicker than the last time, it was over and Steve was pulling away, his eyes still locked on you.
“Shit,” he breathed.
“What?” Cole asked, from his place by the door. “She’s that bad?”
“No,” Steve growled. “She tastes like sunshine.” He stood up and leaned over you, running the back of one finger across your cheek. “Precious thing.”
You looked up at him and blinked. “Please,” you said, “please, I want to go home.”
“No, honey,” he cooed, so gently, “you’ll never go home again.” As you tried to process that through the fog, he turned to Cole. “Put her in my private reserves. I’ll have her for dinner.” And then he was out of the room.
Cole looked at you, a pout on his face. “Goddamnit,” he grumbled, “I’ve been waiting for a taste.”
“You’re gonna bite me, too?” you asked, alarmed.
He sighed. “Not anymore. I’d rather not face the true death, thanks.” He looked you in the eye. “Come with me.”
You felt something move through you at that. There was definitely a strong urge to obey that you wouldn’t resist, but it was nothing like what you felt with Steve, or even Cutter, where it was like your body was on strings. It wasn’t a huge weakness, but you were taking note of everything at this point.
Cole took you through a long series of hallways that you couldn’t hope to keep track of. Cole talked the whole way, mostly inane bits about his frustrations with the pecking order in whatever vampire organization this was. You marveled for a moment at the fact that you were describing something to do with mythical monsters as inane. Finally, just as you arrived at a door not dissimilar to the one you’d just come out of, he concluded with “You’re a really good listener.”
You gaped at him. What did he think was happening here? He’d targeted you, done something to you to bring you here where you were trapped and probably going to die and he thought you cared that he didn’t feel respected enough by his fellow monsters???
But staying alive right now was your primary concern, so you just quietly said, “Thank you,” and let him show you into the room.
It was much bigger than the cell, but still small, along the lines of a spacious walk-in closet. There was a plush rug under your feet, a deep rose color. A four-poster bed was to one side covered in a big, fluffy comforter that was in a lighter shade of dusty pink and piled with pillows to match. The far wall was entirely made of mahogany built-in bookcases that were completely full of books. There was a soft-looking armchair in the corner by the shelves. You turned back to Cole and asked, “What is this?”
“It’s your room,” he said with a smile. He looked you in the eye. “Now,” he said, and you felt his words travel through your body. He pointed at a door without breaking eye contact, “that’s your bathroom. You’re going to use it now to get very clean and smooth. There are lotions you’ll use after to make yourself soft. There are things in there,” he pointed to a beautiful armoire in the corner, “for you to change into when you’re done. Steve will be back in a few hours and you will be ready for him. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” you said, your voice coming out of you without any conscious thought or effort, “I’ll be ready for Steve.”
“Good girl,” he said, and gently patted your cheek. He stood awkwardly, watching you, but now that the command was in you, you were focused on getting to the bathroom so you could get clean. He was in your way.
“I have to get ready for Steve,” you told him, your voice sounding oddly robotic to your own ears.
Cole blinked at you and then sighed. “Right,” he said, sounding almost forlorn. He stared at you again and then shook his head. “I’ll see you again soon,” he said, stroking one hand down your arm. And then he finally left.
It was the most luxurious shower of your life.
When you came out of the bathroom, clean, smooth, and more moisturized than you’d ever been, you opened the armoire to find a small collection of slips in different sizes hanging in it. You found the one that would fit you best and put it on. It was black, a combination of silk and lace. It felt expensive against your skin. You searched the drawers, and next to a collection of silk briefs, you found a pair of black lace panties that would work for you.
Once you were dressed (or as dressed as you were going to be with what was available), you moved to the bookshelves. They were chock full of every genre and category you could think of. Vaunted classics next to dime store romances. Shakespeare collections and airport schlock. You ran your fingers across the spines, when, suddenly, from behind you–
“If there’s something you particularly enjoy, let me know and I’ll have someone get it for you.”
You spun around to find Steve just inches from you. You hadn’t heard a noise when he’d come in. There was a coldness emanating from him that made goosebumps rise along your flesh. Your breath caught and he grinned. You inhaled and asked, “You aren’t going to kill me?”
He laughed. “Oh no, Sunshine. You’re too delicious. I’m going to be feeding from you for a long, long time.”
You tried to back up, but the wall of bookcases blocked you. You pressed yourself into it anyway. He opened his mouth and you hurried to say “Please don’t make me calm down!”
His eyes narrowed and he tilted his head to the side. “Explain,” he commanded and you were obeying before you even registered the word.
“I don’t know what you’re doing to me, but I feel it when you tell me to do things. And I– I don’t know. I don’t know.” You wanted to obey, every part of you was trying, but you had no vocabulary for any of what this was. So you were left chanting, “I don’t know,” over and over.
“Stop,” he said, and of course, everything did. “You can feel it?” he asked. “The compulsion? You actually feel it move through your body?”
The word was new to you, but you knew what he meant. You nodded and he hummed. “Oh, you are very interesting, aren’t you, pet?”
You didn’t say anything to that, just watched him warily. He gave you a sharklike grin that sent chills down your spine and said “Now, calm down.”
And just like before, you felt everything inside you slow. Your body sagged a bit against the shelves, no longer trying to push your way through them.
“There,” he said, cupping your face in his large hand. “Isn’t that better, little pet?”
He guided you to the armchair and sat down in it, pulling you onto his lap. You could feel the supernatural strength in his thighs as you settled on top of him, sidesaddle, as he took all of your weight without any reaction at all. He scratched his thumbnail down your jugular and you closed your eyes. “It hurts,” you said, your tone surprisingly flat for how afraid of all this you’d been just a moment before.
“Hmm?” he questioned, as he nuzzled his nose along your throat.
“When you bite me,” you said, still so calm, “it hurts so much.”
“Oh, is that all?” he asked and you could hear the smile in his voice. “Don’t worry, Sunshine, I’ll make it feel just as good for you as it will for me.”
With that, he moved one of his hands in between your legs, slowly sliding it up your thigh. His face was fully in the crook of your neck when he mumbled “Feel this,” and you felt the command vibrate through your whole body. The calmness that had flattened you faded away and you let out a little whine when his hand reached your mound. He pushed your panties to the side and slid his fingers between your folds. You gasped as he quickly found your clit, tracing slow lazy circles around it. You tried to grind down onto his hand and you felt him huff a laugh into your neck. His tongue darted out, licking a wide stripe all along your vein. You let out another whine, so desperate this time.
He chuckled again. “I was going to make you get wet for me,” he said, as his fingers began to prod at your hole gently, his thumb still working at your clit, “but I don’t need to, do I? Or at least, not with my voice.” He was right, you were already soaking, and there was no resistance as he slipped one finger inside of you. You squirmed against his hand and he added another finger.
His mouth was still on your neck, lapping and nipping at your jugular, but he hadn’t sunk his teeth in yet. He scissored his fingers for a moment, stretching you so good that you cried out before he added a third. They stroked inside your walls, looking for your spot. He found it and you threw your head back.
“Come on,” he growled, “give me what I need.” He curled his fingers, scraping against that place inside you just right. You screamed as you were thrown over the edge of your orgasm and that’s the moment he finally sunk his fangs into your neck. You felt it, you did. The pain was just as intense as before but mingled with some of the strongest pleasure you’d ever felt, you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Your body spasmed around his fingers as he loudly sucked from your neck. You swore that you could feel the blood rushing to both places. You babbled as you coasted along the waves of your orgasm, feeling like it would never end. Even as the aftershocks quieted and slowed down, his mouth was still latched to your neck, taking what he needed from you. Your body was fully collapsed into his now. Everything offered up for the taking.
Finally, his teeth left you and he gently licked the blood from your skin. He slowly removed his fingers from you and you whined at the emptiness. He brought them up to your lips. “Clean up your mess,” he commanded and your mouth dropped open without thinking. He slid his fingers in and you swirled your tongue around them. You tasted yourself, sweet and musky, as you sucked him clean. He pulled them out with a soft pop and wiped them on the bodice of your slip.
You looked at his face. He still had your blood on his lips. You felt the odd urge to kiss him but didn’t have the chance as he pushed you off his lap. Your knees buckled, too weak to stand. He laughed gently, like you might at a cute animal that was struggling, as he lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed. He laid you down and tucked you in. “Rest up, Sunshine,” he cooed, and your body did as it was told, quickly sinking into sleep. “I’ll be back for more soon.”
Tag list is open
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#everybody wants to rule the world#we're all monsters#dark!steve rogers#dark!steve rogers x reader#dark steve rogers#dark steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x reader#steve rogers x you#steve rogers fic#steve rogers x f!reader#steve rogers x female reader#steve rogers#captain america#vampire au#dark!fic#dark fic#chris evans fanfiction#fanfic#kris wrote something
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Many things to discover - Douma x fem!reader
Warnings: smut w/o plot, fingerfucking
Word count: ~2,4k
MASTERLIST
The moonlight bathed the temple in a soft, silver light. The only sound that could be heard was the gentle murmur of the wind rustling through the leaves.
You were nervous as you crept up to Douma's chamber. You had heard stories of the wise guru and was curious to see him in person. Taking a deep breath, you carefully slided the shoji door open and peered inside.
Douma was asleep, or at least he looked like it, and you could barely make out his features in the dim light. You were mesmerized by his beauty and, before you knew it, you were standing right next to him. You wanted to touch him, to feel the warmth of his skin, but you couldn't bring yourself to do it. Finally yet, you reached out and gently put a hand on his chest, biting the inner side of your cheek at the feeling of a tensed muscles, so well defined.
Little did you know Douma had often pretended to be asleep, with his eyes gently closed, giving off the impression of peaceful slumber. His senses were heightened, and he was acutely aware of his surroundings, even when it appeared that he was in a deep sleep. He listened to the gentle rustle of the wind, the pitter-patter of the rain on the roof; he would remain in that state of simulated sleep, for hours on end, until he felt it was safe to rise and continue his nocturnal activities.
Douma stirred and opened his eyes, grasped your wrist and pulled you down on his bed, but instead of getting angry, he smiled at you, cocking his eyebrow. "Well, well, well, what brings you here?" he asked, his voice low and smooth, as he leaned back against the pillows on his bed.
Your heart pounding in your chest as you tried to find the right words. "I...I just wanted to check up on you," you stammered, feeling suddenly self-conscious under his intense gaze.
Douma's smile widened, and he chuckled softly. "Is that so?" he replied, his hand reaching out to brush a lock of hair away from your face. "Or perhaps you came to see me because you couldn't resist my charm?"
Douma's presence was both comforting and alluring, and you found yourself drawn to him.
As you looked up at him, his eyes met yours, and you could see the genuine curiosity and interest in them. "So, tell me," he whispered, his tone playful yet sincere. "What's been on your mind lately?"
"I was curious about you. I couldn't quite put my finger on it, but there was something intriguing about you."
Douma tilted his head slightly, his gaze fixed on you. "Oh? And what was it that piqued your curiosity?" he chuckled rather darkly.
"It was the way you carried yourself," you replied, your voice soft but steady. "You seemed so confident, so sure of yourself. I couldn't help but wonder who you were and what you were capable of."
A small smile played at the corners of Douma's lips, and he reached out to gently brush his fingers against your cheek. "I see," he murmured. "Well, I'm glad that you found me interesting. And I'm even happier that you decided to stick around."
As you sat on his bed, he paused and stared at you with an intense gaze, his eyes searching for recognition. Suddenly, his eyes widened in realization, and a soft gasp escaped his lips. "I remember you now," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. Yes, I remember now. Your parents were devoted followers of mine for many years, and they brought you here some time ago to be a new member of my cult," Douma tapped his chin with his long, sharp nail. Douma's expression softened, and he reached out to gently touch your cheek. "And now here you are, all grown up and by my side once again. It's like we were always meant to be together."
As he spoke, you felt a strange sense of deja vu wash over you. It was as if you had known Douma your entire life, and yet at the same time, he was still a complete mystery to you.
"Don't be afraid," he said in a soft voice, "I won't hurt you." He extended a hand towards you, and as you hesitated, he gave you an encouraging smile. "Come closer."
As you moved towards him, he took your hand in his and held it gently, his fingers entwining with yours. He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your cheek.
Without a word, he pulled you closer and your lips met. The kiss was soft and warm, full of passion and longing. Douma pulled you closer and the intensity of the moment was palpable. He explored you with his hands and felt your body tremble. His desire for you was growing with each passing second. He leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, feeling your breathing became more rapid. His hands moved lower and he could feel your body quiver in anticipation. He wanted more and you apparently wanted the same.
Finally, you found the courage to take a step forward. Without breaking eye contact, you slowly moved to straddle him, feeling the coldness of his body against yours. You could feel his breath on your face as you leaned in closer, your heart pounding in your chest.
He responded with a low chuckle, his eyes still fixed on yours. "Don't be shy, my dear," he murmured, his hand moving to rest on the small of your back.
Encouraged by his words, you leaned in further, your lips brushing against his. The touch was electrifying, and you felt your entire body tremble with desire. As the kiss deepened, you found yourself lost in the sensation, the coldness of his lips against yours, the feel of his hands on your body. You had never felt so alive.
Finally, you broke away, gasping for air. Douma's eyes were filled with a hunger that matched your own, and you knew that this was only the beginning of a wild, thrilling journey with the Upper Moon Two. "I know about your secret," you whispered quietly. "I know you're a demon."
As you spoke the words about Douma being a demon, he couldn't help but chuckle darkly, his lips curling into a sly smirk. He raised a brow and leaned back, propping himself on his elbows, the soft sound of his laughter filling the room. "You're not wrong," he said in a carefree tone, his eyes glinting with a mischievous gleam. "I am a demon, after all." He tilted his head slightly, his expression still playful as he gazed at you. "Does that scare you, my dear? Or does it make you curious?" he teased, his voice low and seductive.
A hint of fear was lingering in your voice as you spoke. "I've heard that demons eat humans, and I don't want to end up as your next meal."
Douma chuckled softly, the sound sending shivers down your spine. "You don't have to worry about that. I have no interest in eating anyone right now, especially not sweet and courageous as you."
Despite your initial fear, you found yourself drawn to Douma's otherworldly charm. Without thinking, you reached out and gently brushed your lips against his cheek, feeling the coldness of his skin beneath your lips.
Douma watched you hungrily; your body so close that he could feel the heat radiating from it. You moved your hands up his chest, teasing his nipples with your fingertips. He shivered in anticipation as your lips brushed lightly against his neck and he let out a moan of pleasure, curling his lips in a grin.
Your hands moved lower, tracing a path of fire across his abdomen. You looked up at him, your dark eyes filled with passion and desire. You couldn't help but smile at him, feeling a rush of warmth spread through your body. "I just wanted to show you how much I appreciate you," you replied softly, your gaze locked on his. "And I was curious about you"
Douma's lips curved into a small smile as he reached up to cup your cheek in his hand. "I appreciate you too," he said, his thumb brushing gently over your skin. Douma pulled you closer, tasting your lips as his hands roamed over your body. He felt you responding to his touch and he knew he wanted you more than anything.
You unbuttoned your kimono and let it slide off your shoulders, revealing the soft curves of your body. Next, you unclasped your bra and let it fall to the ground, feeling the cool air brush against your bare skin. There was no piece of clothing protecting you from his hungry eyes anymore.
Douma's lips curved into a smirk. "Am I to assume you are enjoying the freedom of not wearing panties?" he asked, amusement lacing his voice. "No need to be embarrassed, my dear. I rather enjoy the sight," he said, his fingers tracing along the exposed skin of your calf, moving up to soon knead the warm fesh of your thighs. "Look at you. You're so beautiful and eager."
Douma suddenly placed his hands on your waist and with a swift motion, he flipped you effortlessly, leaving you stunned. "You're light as a feather," Douma remarked, grinning widely as he pinned you down to the bed.
As you watched him, your teeth found your lower lip, and you bit down gently, unable to tear your gaze away from the sight before you. "I think you're content with my late night visit."
As his finger ventured into the warmth of your wet folds, you couldn't help but notice how slick your arousal had made you. Douma's middle finger glided along your slick walls with such ease, it was as if it was coated in a fine layer of massage oil. He continued his exploration, sliding his slender finger down to the very depths of your core. Your eyes widened with a mix of surprise and pleasure, causing your abdominal muscles to flex as you arched your back in response. "Oh!"
Douma applied more pressure to your slit, parting your lips with his fingers. As his digit hooked inside you, you couldn't help but gasp at the sensation of him penetrating you. Slowly, he delved deeper and deeper, eliciting a silent response from you as your pussy walls gripped his finger tightly. Your hips began to wiggle, instinctively trying to retreat from the sensation, only to press back down onto Douma's hand in surrender.
Douma leaned in, his lips closing around your left nipple. You gasped as you watched him lick and suck at the sensitive bud, sending waves of pleasure through your body. His other hand rubbed around the side of your breast, squeezing and massaging the soft flesh beneath his cold palm. You could feel the coldness of his body against your own delicate, curvy form.
As he pulled his finger out, you moaned softly, already missing the feeling of him inside you. But then he plunged it back in, and you were transported to a new level of ecstasy. Your hips instinctively began to move, riding his finger with a rhythm you had never known before. Each thrust sent you closer and closer to the edge, and you could feel your body start to tremble in anticipation of what was to come.
"Don't stop, don't stop, my master," you moaned, your voice shaky with pleasure.
Douma's finger continued to pump into you with an increasing pace.
You could hear the wet sounds of his finger moving in and out of your pussy, and it only turned you on more. As he added a second finger, your back arched and your moans grew louder. Your breasts bounced with each thrust of his fingers, and you couldn't help but grip onto his shoulders tightly. His fingers filled you up so completely, and the sensation was overwhelming. "Don't stop, Douma," you begged, your eyes closed in ecstasy. "Please, don't stop."
Your body convulsed with pleasure as the orgasmic waves crashed through you. You gasped for air and clenched your teeth, trying to hold back the moans that threatened to escape your lips. Your thighs trembled as they pressed tightly against Douma's hand, his long fingers still buried deep inside your soaking wet pussy. Your entire body shook as the climax consumed you, and you cried out in ecstasy, "Oh God, yes!" Your juices gushed out onto his hand, coating it in your essence as you continued to shudder with pleasure.
With a dark chuckle, Douma brought his hand, drenched in your essence, straight to his mouth. Not breaking eye contact with you, he slipped his fingers between his lips and let out a low moan as he tasted your juices. His grin widened as he savored the flavor, relishing in the sensation. "Well, well, Y/N," he purred, his voice laced with desire. "I must admit, you are absolutely delicious."
You felt your cheeks flush and the only sound that escaped your parted lips was a quiet groan as you watched Douma.
His cold hand caressed the curve of your waist, his sharp nails grazing the soft skin of your hip, sending shivers down your spine.
Douma leaned in, his breath hot on your lips, and captured them with a deep, passionate kiss. Your tongues intertwined in a seductive dance, and you tasted the faint sweetness of yourself on his tongue. The taste of your own essence on his tongue only intensified the intimate moment, causing your senses to ignite with an unquenchable desire.
As he pulled back, his fingers trailed down your side, and he whispered into your ear., "I think there are many things I have yet to discover about you tonight," he murmured, his voice husky with desire. "And I must say, my dear lotus, I am so fucking curious to find out."
In that moment, you knew that the night would be filled with endless exploration and pleasure, as Douma's insatiable hunger for you could not be quenched. The promise of new discoveries and indulgences filled you with a heady excitement, as you eagerly anticipated what was yet to come.
#douma#doma#douma x reader#douma x reader smut#douma x you#douma x y/n#doma x reader#kny doma#kny douma#kny smut#upper moon two#demon slayer smut#demon slayer#kny#kimetsu no yaiba
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Unexpected beginnings
⊹♡— in which she falls pregnant, and the father is her brother’s teammate
Charles Leclerc x Sainz!fem!reader
Warnings: angst (?), pregnancy, sexual illusions
I wake up one morning, feeling a strange sense of unease. My thoughts drift back to that one reckless night a few weeks ago when I had a brief encounter with Charles, my brother Carlos' teammates. The memory is a blur, but now a growing suspicion gnaws at me.
As the days pass, my body starts to exhibit unusual signs. The nagging nausea, the inexplicable exhaustion—these aren't normal for me. Panic sets in, and I decide to take a pregnancy test.
In the small bathroom, trembling hands clutching the test stick, I wait for those critical moments. Time seems to stand still. A faint blue line appears, and my heart sinks. I take a deep breath, hoping for a negative result, but it's undeniably positive.
Tears well up in my eyes as reality crashes down. The child I'm carrying belongs to Charles, Carlos' teammate, and is bound to turn our lives upside down. My mind races with questions, guilt, and confusion. How could I have been so careless? How will Carlos react when he finds out? How can we navigate this tangled web of secrets and lies?
I'm left with an overwhelming mix of emotions—fear, regret, and an impending sense of chaos. The one-night stand that brought me here is now a life-changing event that will forever bind our lives in ways we could never have anticipated.
I'm nervous, scared, and unsure of how to break the news to Charles.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
I make the decision to join Carlos for the race in Singapore this weekend, not necessarily in support of him, although I’ll do that anyways, but more so because I need to tell Charles, and this is the easiest way to get to him.
I stand outside Charles’ hotel room, my heart pounding in my chest. It's a chilly evening, and the dimly lit corridor seems to close in around me. This is it, I think to myself. I take a deep breath, then raise my hand to knock on the door. Charles, is behind that door, and I have to tell him I’m carrying his baby.
After a moment, the door swings open, and Charles's surprised expression quickly shifts to one of recognition. "Hey, y/n, what brings you here?" he asks, a friendly smile on his face.
"Can we talk, Charles? It's kind of urgent," I reply, trying to sound as composed as possible.
He furrows his brow, sensing the seriousness in my voice, and steps back, allowing me to enter the room. I take a seat on the edge of the bed, nervously fiddling with my hands. Charles closes the door and sits down across from me.
"What's going on? You look really worried," he says, concern evident in his eyes.
I take another deep breath and look directly into his eyes. "Charles, we need to talk about that night," I begin, my voice trembling slightly.
His face turns serious as he remembers the night we shared together not so long ago. "Yeah, I've been thinking about it too," he admits, his gaze dropping to his hands.
I swallow hard, my throat suddenly dry. "Charles, I'm pregnant," I blurt out, unable to meet his eyes.
His head shoots up, his eyes wide with shock. "Pregnant?" he repeats, his voice barely above a whisper.
I nod, tears welling up in my eyes. "Yes, and it’s yours."
Charles's shock turns into a mix of emotions: surprise, concern, and then something unexpected. A glint of excitement sparks in his eyes. "Wow, I-I'm going to be a dad?" he says, his voice filled with wonder.
I can't help but share in his excitement, and for a moment, our faces light up with the prospect of parenthood. "Yes, Charles, we're going to be parents," I reply, a genuine smile breaking through.
But the excitement fades as quickly as it appeared when the reality of the situation hits us both. "Carlos is going to be furious," I say, expression turning serious once more.
He reaches out and takes my hand, a look of genuine care in his eyes. "Hey, no matter what, I'm here for you and our baby. We'll figure this out together, even if it won't be easy."
We sit there in silence, hands still entwined, as the weight of the situation settles in. Despite the rollercoaster of emotions and the challenges ahead, I can't help but feel a glimmer of hope in the warmth of Charles's gaze and the promise of a shared journey into parenthood.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
In the days that follow, we share moments of vulnerability and affection. After finding out about the pregnancy, we sit together, our hearts heavy with the weight of this newfound responsibility. Then, one evening, as we're sitting on the couch, he leans in and kisses me softly. It's our first kiss since discovering that we're going to be parents, and it's filled with a mixture of emotions—love, fear, and hope.
"I love you," Charles whispers against my lips, making my heart swell with affection. It's a profound moment, and we hold each other close, cherishing the newfound depth of our connection.
As we continue to navigate the complexities of impending parenthood, our bond grows stronger. We find solace in each other's company, often staying up late into the night, sharing our dreams and concerns.
One evening, after a particularly heartfelt conversation about our hopes for the future, I turn to Charles with a smile. "I can't believe how lucky we are to have each other," I say, my eyes filled with gratitude.
Charles nods, his expression reflecting my sentiments. "I know. I wouldn't want to go through this with anyone else but you."
Our hands find each other's, fingers entwining as if seeking reassurance in this journey. "It's scary, you know," I admit, my voice barely above a whisper. "But I'm starting to feel excited about becoming parents."
Charles chuckles softly, his thumb gently tracing circles on the back of my hand. "Me too. And I promise, we'll figure it out together."
Charles turns his gaze toward the horizon, his eyes distant yet thoughtful. "You know," he begins, "I've been thinking about what kind of parents we'll be."
I look at him with curiosity, intrigued by his musings. "What do you mean?"
He smiles, his eyes meeting mine again. "I mean, we have our hopes and dreams, but it's also about how we'll support and love our child, no matter what. That's what truly matters."
I nod in agreement, touched by his sincerity. "You're right. Our love and commitment to each other, and to our future child, will guide us through."
The breeze continues to sway the leaves, and you both feel a sense of unity and purpose in this quiet moment together, ready to embrace the journey ahead.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
As the pregnancy progresses, Charles and I attend a crucial doctor's appointment together. We sit side by side in the examination room, holding hands, and listening to the doctor's words with bated breath.
As the ultrasound begins, the room fills with the rhythmic sound of our baby's heartbeat. Charles watches the screen intently, his hand gripping mine.
"There it is," Dr. Anderson says, pointing at the tiny, flickering image. "Your baby's heart is strong."
Charles squeezes my hand, his eyes shining with emotion. "That's our baby," he whispers.
As the doctor continues the examination, we ask questions about the pregnancy and what lies ahead. Charles is eager to learn everything he can, showing his genuine concern.
"So, when can we find out the gender?" he asks.
Dr. Anderson smiles. "Typically, we can determine the gender during the next appointment in a few weeks. Would you like to know?"
Charles and I exchange glances, and I nod. "Yes, we'd like to know."
After the appointment, as we walk out of the clinic, Charles turns to me with a gentle smile. "I'm here for you, every step of the way."
I feel a surge of gratitude for this kind-hearted man who has stepped into my life during this challenging time. "I love you so much."
With that, we head home, our hearts brimming with anticipation for the arrival of our little one. Though we aren't officially a couple, we both know that this unexpected journey has already brought us closer together.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
I nervously fidget with my hands as I wait for Carlos to arrive. I had called him and asked him to come over, as Charles and I decided that it wouldn’t be right to hide the pregnancy from him any longer. He was my brother after all, and we had always been close, so I wanted him to be with me during my first pregnancy.
I knew that the news I had to share with him wouldn't be an easy pill for him to swallow, but it had to be said. I just hoped that he would understand and support Charles and I.
As soon as Carlos walks through the front door, I take a deep breath and prepare to tell him what has been weighing heavily on my heart for weeks now.
"Carlos, we need to talk to you about something," I say, my voice trembling slightly.
He raises an eyebrow, looking at us cautiously. "What is it?"
"I'm pregnant," I say simply, bracing myself for his reaction.
Carlos' face contorts with anger as he takes a step back. "What? Whose baby is it?"
"It's Charles' baby," I admit, my eyes downcast.
Carlos' fists clench at his sides, and he takes a deep breath before spitting out, "I can't believe you would do this to me, Charles is my teammate yes, but he’s also my friend. Do you know what you’ve done? This could ruin everything!"
"I really am so sorry, Carlos," I say, feeling the tears welling up in my eyes. "We didn't plan for this to happen. It just did."
Carlos rolls his eyes. "Right. Because that's a valid excuse. I can't even look at you right now."
The hurt in his voice is palpable, and I can't help but feel like I've let him down. "Please, Carlos. I need your support right now, not your anger."
He shakes his head, scoffing at me. "Support? How am I supposed to support this? Do you even care about me at all?"
I can't hold back the tears anymore, and I break down, sobs wracking my whole body. "I do care about you, Carlos. But this just happened. And I can't change it, I wouldn’t want to change it. I'm sorry."
Silence falls over the room as Carlos stares down at me, his expression still angry and hurt. But then Charles steps in, placing a comforting hand on my back and speaking up.
"Carlos, you need to calm down. She's carrying my baby, yes. But that doesn't change how much she cares about you. And it certainly doesn't warrant you insulting our relationship."
Charles' words seem to snap Carlos out of his angry stupor, and he takes a deep breath before turning to leave. "I need to get out of here. I can't deal with this right now."
As soon as the door closes behind him, Charles pulls me into a tight hug, rubbing circles on my back to soothe me.
"I'm sorry he reacted that way," he murmurs into my hair. "But I'm here for you, and I'll make sure you're okay."
His words are a balm to my heart, and I cling to him, grateful for his support and understanding. Together, we'll get through this, no matter what anyone else thinks.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
Weeks later, you get a knock on your door taht catches you by surprise. You aren’t expecting anyone, and one look at Charles tells you he isn’t either.
“I’ll get it,” you declare. Charles nods and follows you to the entrance, where Carlos stands shifting his weight from foot to foot. His face is a mix of remorse and stubbornness.
"Hey," you say tentatively.
Carlos looks at you and then at Charles, his eyes filled with regret. "I... I'm sorry," he mumbles.
Charles folds his arms across his chest, his expression stern. "You should be. What you said was out of line."
Carlos sighs, his shoulders slumping. "I know. I messed up, okay? I was just shocked, and I reacted poorly. Can we talk about this?"
You all move to the living room, settling onto the couch and chairs. You take a deep breath. "Carlos, we understand that you were surprised. But your reaction was hurtful. We wanted you to be a part of this journey with us."
Carlos runs a hand through his hair, a guilty look on his face. "I know, and I regret how I acted. I've been thinking about it a lot since our argument. I just didn't expect this, and it took me by surprise."
Charles softens his gaze, but his tone remains firm. "We're not asking you to be thrilled about it, Carlos. But we need your support. This is a big deal for us, and we want you to be a part of our child's life."
Carlos nods, his eyes brimming with tears. "I want to be there for you, for you too, Charles. I'm just scared, you know? Scared for both of you."
You reach out and take Carlos's hand. "We're scared too, Carlos. But we're also excited and determined. We love each other, and we're committed to making this work."
Charles uncrosses his arms and leans forward. "Carlos, we're not expecting you to have all the answers or to be perfect. But we need you on our side. Can you be there for us?"
Carlos wipes away a tear and nods vigorously. "Yes, yes, I can. I want to be there. I want to be an uncle to your child."
You smile through your own tears and squeeze Carlos's hand. "Thank you, Carlos. That means the world to us."
Over the next few hours, you talk, laugh, and even shed a few more tears. It isn't a perfect reconciliation, but it's a genuine one. You, Charles, and Carlos know that there will still be challenges ahead, but you're determined to face them together, as a family.
₊˚⊹♡: ⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆
The day of the birth arrives, and it's a long and emotional journey. Charles is by my side, holding my hand, and offering words of encouragement throughout the labor. The pain, the fear, and the exhaustion all seem worth it when we finally hold our baby boy, Matteo, in our arms.
Tears fill Charles' eyes as he cradles our son for the first time. "He's perfect," he whispers, his voice choked with emotion.
Our love story has been one of challenges, growth, and newfound depths. But as we gaze at our precious son, we know that every moment, every tear, and every obstacle we've faced has led us to this beautiful, heartwarming beginning as a family.
#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc one shot#charles leclerc smut#charles leclerc x reader#formula 1#formula 1 one shot#charles leclerc#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#formula 1 imagine#carlos sainz#carlos sainz imagine#formula 1 x female reader#formula 1 smut#formula 1 x you
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safe haven ~ rafe cameron
my masterlist
Rafe needed to feel loved.
All of his life, he tried to fight for his father's love and always ended up on the losing side. His father would always put Sarah above him and there was nothing he could do that would change that.
Being deprived of love for such a long time made falling in love with you feel so foreign and strange, but it ultimately saved his life.
Since the moment he had laid his eyes on you, he knew he was done for.
When you agreed to be his girlfriend, he swore he could feel his lungs receiving a new lease on life.
The love you provided him with was nothing he had ever felt before. He had never before felt so cared for, so safe and loved with someone before. He didn't know who he had to thank for sending such an angel his way, but he would do it for the rest of his life.
Loving Rafe was the best decision you had ever made. Teaching him how to love and showing him what being loved felt like has been your biggest accomplishment to date. Seeing the broken boy who had spent years and years fighting for someone to love him, to make him feel seen, suddenly loving with all he had in him brought you happiness like never before.
After every bad argument with his father, he would come to you. After every single bad day, after anything, his first and only stop would be you.
You reveled in the fact that you were the only person he trusted enough to go to in time of need. The only person he would even think about going to, no matter the problem.
It most commonly happened when he would get into yet another fight with Ward, it had become something of a custom in the last couple of months.
Tonight was no different.
You had been doing some homework, wanting to get it out of the way so you could enjoy some free days in the upcoming period when you heard a loud knock downstairs.
"Y/N? Rafe's here" you heard your father call from downstairs, which had you worriedly climbing down the stairs.
It wasn't uncommon for Rafe to always be at your house, but he usually always told you he would be coming over. It was never like this.
You thanked your father who just smiled at you and retreated back to the living room, leaving you in the entrance hall with your boyfriend.
"Baby? Why didn't you tell me you were coming over?" you asked once you stopped in front of him, wrapping your arms around his tall and muscular body.
"I wasn't planning on coming here tonight, but I just had to see you" his words were muffled by his face pressed in your neck, and by the way his muscles were tense and rigid under your touch, you knew what had happened.
Ward, once again.
"Let's go upstairs and we can talk about it, okay?" your voice was soft, making Rafe's insides turn to mush.
He nodded as he pulled away from the embrace, taking your hand instead and letting you pull him upstairs to your bedroom.
He knew he wasn't being fair to you, coming to you for comfort every single time his dad would lash out at him. He knew he needed to man up and get a grip, but how could he when you provided so much warmth and safety and love to his soul?
How could he not need you when you were his breath of fresh air? The only thing he needed to survive and keep going? No, it was impossible.
When you had finally reached your room, you closed the door behind you and sat with Rafe on your bed, laying down and cuddling him to your chest.
You slowly started running your hands through his hair, scratching at his scalp and twirling some of the longer strands of his dirty blonde hair around your fingers.
Rafe hummed slowly and closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of being in your arms after having had such a long and awful day.
"Do you want to talk about what happened?" you whispered, not wanting to disturb the peaceful atmosphere that had settled in the room.
Rafe didn't answer straight away, which you figured was a sign that he didn't want to discuss what had happened with his father, but he soon started talking in a tired, worn out voice.
"He thinks I'm turning soft because of you. Not taking care of business the way I usually did before we got together, shit like that. He doesn't see how good you're for me and how much better I'm doing since we've been dating, how calmer I am and the fact that I'm clean. It's a change he doesn't seem to think of as productive so he automatically hates it. Told me to either break up with you or pack my things and get out of the house" he explained, your heart breaking slowly with each word that came out of his mouth.
You knew from the very beginning that Ward thought you were a 'bad influence' over Rafe just because he started getting his life together after you became a couple. He stopped drinking, he's been clean for 2 years, his violent outbursts were almost non-existent and he was seriously preparing to take over the company from your father. Your father had decided that his retirement age was coming up and talked to Rafe about him taking over the company, which meant even more distancing from Ward.
Unfortunately for Ward, that also meant that he could no longer count on Rafe to do illegal things for him, 'take care' of the opposition or scare people shitless, Rafe refused to be involved with that.
Hence, this.
"Oh, baby. I am so sorry" you squeezed him tighter, planting kisses on the top of his head.
He shrugged, only squeezing you tighter and burying his head deeper into the place between your neck and your shoulder.
"I'm gonna need to find a place to stay, was thinking about going to see some places these days before I go and pick up my things" he explained further, making you confused.
Did he really think he would be staying anywhere else other than your house?
"Don't be ridiculous, love. You're gonna stay here with me. We have plenty of rooms where you can keep your things and plenty of space. My parents adore you, they love having you around and they hate your father. Imagine all the time we're going to be able to spend together from now on" you finished on an excited note, making Rafe chuckle.
He loved your ability to turn every single bad thing into a positive one, shine light in the darkest of places.
"I don't want to feel like a burden, especially not to your parents" he commented, even though he wanted nothing more than to stay there with you and your family.
"Don't be silly, you and I both know just how much my parents love you. They're going to enjoy having you around all the time, especially my dad"
Rafe and your dad had a very special relationship. Ever since you started dating, your dad had been the father Ward never was to Rafe. He took him under his wing, showed him the ropes and prepared him for when he would hold the ropes. They would take your family's boat and go fishing for a day or two to bond, they would prepare BBQs together, hang out, watch football games. They sometimes spent more time together than either of them did with you.
Your mother had the same adoration for Rafe as your father. From the moment she had realized how serious your relationship was, she did everything in hew power to show him how much she appreciated him for taking care of you, for being by your side and loving you as much as he did. She too was the mother Rafe had once lost and she provided him with the motherly love and touch he desperately needed.
He was part of your family, whether he knew it or not.
"I can't thank you enough, baby. I love you and your parents so fucking much" he raised his head and took your face in his hand, bending your face just enough to pull you into a deep kiss, pouring every single emotion he felt towards you into the kiss.
You kissed him back just as passionately, determined to never allow Rafe to feel like this anymore.
You would make sure he knew how important and loved he was even if it was the last thing you would do.
After all, you were his safe haven.
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Death is always around the corner
Leona + Death!Reader
Riddle, Leona, Azul, Jamil, Vil, Idia, Malleus
Let's set the Scene: Masterlist
Something was off about this Mirror ceremony, Crowley could feel it. But decided to shack it off and continue with the ceremony.
As the night continued, all the new students were neatly sorted into dorms. There was just one coffin left, and just as he was about to insert the key to unlock the coffin. The coffin began to thrash and shack, as puffs of blue fire spewed out from the creaks in the coffin. The headmaster quickly stepped away from the coffin when the lid suddenly blasts off its hinges in a blaze of fire.
From the coffin, a grey cat creature with blue fire ears skitted across the ground. The crowd of students stared in confusion till something caught their attention. An eerie whistle could be heard from the smoking coffin. Out from the smoke steeped a mysterious figure. A figure dressed in the school's ceremonial robes stepped out into the chamber. They stood unnaturally still as the hood of their robe completely obscured their face as they continued to eerily whistle.
"U-Um, excuse me young...Um... You could have waited a few seconds longer till I opened the gate. Anyways please present yourself to the dark mirror," Crowley stuttered as he hurried the stranger.
The mirror awakened to look at the figure, and only stared in... fear?
"Ugh, I can smell... a disgusting amount of blot," The figure spat.
🦁Leona Kingscholar🦁
Now our story starts a bit earlier than expected. In a large greenhouse is where our story begins for this chapter. While Ace and deuce went to look for baskets, Grim was forced to partner with...Y/n. They smiled ever so slightly, kneeling down with hands outstretched. Inviting Grim to climb onto their shoulder, but Grim arched his back as his fur stood on end. The fire cat quickly walked ahead, as Y/n simply followed behind.
As the two walked in silence, Y/n didn't see the tail laid across their path.
"AAGH!" Growled a voice as a swift motion, whacked Grimm off his feet.
Grim quickly scampered behind Y/n for protection as a lion beastmen stood to his feet in annoyance. Leona growled as he faced the the two.
“You got some nerves stepping on my tail and just walking away,” Leona scoffed.
“A-are you the groundskeeper?” Grimm asked nervously.
“Nothing worse than napping and minding my own business only for some low life to step on my tail,” Leona growled.
Yet Y/n smiled in amusement, much to Leona’s annoyances. Leona knew this was the strange new student, this is his first time seeing them up close. Yet when he leaned in to smell this strange student, there was no scent.
“I’m not sorry, you shouldn’t be resting near where people walk. And someone of your standing should have better things to do,” Y/n simply.
“Grrr! I am not in the best of moods, and I think it’s only fair rip out your younger and show you your places,” Leona snarled as he prepared to fight.
“Oh, a lazy glutton of a lion thinks he scares me? Haha, this is cute,” Y/n laughed, unbothered by his threats.
Leona tried to throw punches at the figure, but they dodged with little effort. All the while criticizing his skill. Leona’s anger grew more and more. He pulled out his magic pen and began to fire off spells at Y/n, who pulled out their scythes and effortlessly deflected the magic.
Know it was Y/n's turn. With terrifying speed, y/n charged Leona. With a swift but strong kick to the chest, shoving Leona into a metal pole. The lion prince groaned in pain as he tried to raise his pen to compose himself. Only for Y/n to swipe the pen out of his hands, and with the other brought down the scythe. leaving a minor cut over his scar.
"Leona!" a voice called.
Leona turned to see Ruggie making his way over with his lunch. The prince swiftly turned back to look at Y/n, but they and Grim were gone.
Leona knew from then on, that this Y/n person was not someone to underestimate. As long as they stay out of his business, then he had nothing to worry about.
But that didn't last long when Crowley ordered Y/n to investigate the strange and spiking accidents around the school. Promising to let them participate in the magic shift tournament.
Y/n already knew who was behind this but decided to let Grim earn his reward. And decided to play the investigation game, but that doesn't mean they won't pay them a visit.
As Leona and Ruggie discussed their plan, Leona noticed a figure in the shadow, it was Jack.
"What are you doing here late in the night? Are you so homesick that you need someone to sing you a lullaby?" Leona smirked.
"I want to know the reason why you’re doing this," Jack growled.
" I see now. You want to hear a bedtime story, huh. Fine, I’ll tell you. For two years in a row now, we’ve always lost at the first match against Diasomnia and Malleus. Ever since we went against them, our dorm, which was known for making opponents tremble, looks like weak kittens now," Leona explained.
"Doing something as low as cheating is wrong!" Jack growled.
"Jack… I’m doing this because I’m concerned about the students’ futures, you know? f the whole world sees us defeat Malleus, all those offers will come back to Savanaclaw together with our dignity. Are you planning on ruining your seniors’ futures?" Leona said with a slight glare.
"Th-that’s…! I’m sure you can take Malleus on if you play with your full potential, Perfect!" Jack tried to reason.
But Leona had enough and set everyone out of his room, wanting peace and quiet and to go to bed. Bed just as he was about to relax an eerie whistle. His hair stood on end as his arms trembled.
"For the future of your dormmates huh? This is the dumbest lie I have ever heard from you," Y/n laughed as they fiddled with some of Leona's jewelry. As they sat in the window.
"What are you doing here?!" Leona hissed, baring his teeth.
"Just wanted to hear the justifications behind your actions. I'm surprised a lazy cat like you has the brain capacity to think of something like this. Especially since it seems you can't do the bare minimum to do something as simple as graduating," Y/n mocked with their haunted red eyes.
"Shut up!" Leona growled as he grabbed a vase.
Y/n chuckled as they playfully dogged a vase Leona threw at them. Leona backed away slowly as Y/n stepped into the room. They sat down at the table and pulled a book from their hood. A book with his name on it.
"I'll cut to the chase. I know you gave from the start, I can't wait to see you fail miserably," Y/n chuckled.
"You don't know that," Leona spat.
"So why not just... Rest forever?" Y/n as they opened Leona's book to the final page. The wanted poster. "Just sign right here."
Y/n said as they tapped the dead print.
"Is this some sick Joke!?" Leona growled as he raised his pen.
Y/n simply stared at Leona, studying him. Eventually, they closed the book and vanished into the shadows.
"See you soon," Y/n said as they whistled into the night.
Ruggie came rushing through the door and was shocked to see Leona frozen and in fear.
But they continued with the plan, but with the help of jack. Malleus and the rest of Diasomnia were safe. But this broke what little motivation Leona had, giving up then and there.
This did not go well with the dormmates that followed him this far. But this only deeply annoyed Leona, as his magic started to go wild.
He held Ruggie aloft as he began to turn everything to sand, and dry out the poor hyena boy. Y/n growled dangerously as they swiped at Leona, dropping the poor boy.
Before Ruggie could hit the ground, Y/n caught him and handed the boy to Jack to keep him safe.
_____________________________________________________________
As Leona sat in his world of darkness, an eerie whistle snapped him out of his stupor.
"What's wrong Lives flashing before your eyes?" Y/n asked as they held their scythes.
"So that's who you really are, Death," Leona glared. "So you've come for me, after seeing all I have been through."
"Yes, and I am not impressed. Even if you were to be the firstborn, your attitude and lazy habits would still make people doubt you. Even so You were born with a silver spoon in your mouth, and have great privileges compared to those around you," Y/n snarled.
Leona still looking defeated didn't even turn to Look at Y/n.
"So, No matter what I do I will never be more th-" But Leona was cut off with a powerful punch to the left side of his face.
"You Never Tried! So you have no right to make that excuse. You just sat your @$$ down and pitted yourself. I have been here since the dawn of time and your experience is nothing unique," Y/n scoffed as they pummeled Leona.
"You Could have been great, but you wasted every opportunity your statues served to you on a silver platter. I have seen many second princes who were fronted with the same issues as you, they didn't take it sitting down. They went out I did something about it. Many even had more impact than their kings," Y/n continued as they held up the wanted poster. " Sign it."
Leona covered with bruises stared at the poster, as his life flashed again. As Y/n watched they could see something shift, not entirely, but it was a start. As Leona struggled to stand and spit a bit of blood out of his mouth.
"You know what. No, I'm going to live to spite you," Leona coughed. " And prove every single one of you wrong."
Y/n stared into Leona's eyes and smirked as they lowered their blade from Leona's neck. It wasn't much, but it was a start.
"Well prove it," Y/n smirked warmly, as they exited through a door of light.
Leona woke up, much to everyone's relief. Leona noticed as Everyone gathered around, Y/n stood off by themselves. Jack is the only one to approach with no fear.
Leona composed himself and challenged Y/n to Magishift. Saying in a battle he could never win, but in a game of skill, maybe.
Y/n smiled warmly and accepted the challenge, it's been a long time since they were invited to play in a game. If only there wasn't so much blot gathering.
#Death!reader#twisted wonderland#twisted wonderland x reader#disney twisted wonderland#twst yuu#leona x reader#leona kingscholar#leona kingscholar x reader#twst leona#twst headcanons
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Every End Is The Beginning Of The Next End.
Alastor x Fem! Reader
Warnings:choking, swears, injuries, mind breaking, slightly gore.
Notes: I hope you will like it! It is one-shoot, i dont plan to write another chapter.(⌐■-■)
Who knew that Alastor could be interested in an ordinary person. A person who, due to the loss of herself and going crazy from failures, summoned a demon to sell him her soul. Is this advisable? You didn’t care. And now you are reaching out your shaking hand to the demon to make a deal. A bright green light illuminates your dark room, the demon takes on a more eerie form, but you don’t care. You look at him with an empty look. The look of a dead, hopeless human.
Alastor's dark red eyes sparkled in the darkness, studying you.Your emotionless face, empty eyes...He saw many humans with who he made a deal, but you..You were sometimes new. Everyone were asking for a fame, money, strength! But you...you asked him to bring a little love to your life, wich surprised him.You wanted to sell your soul...for a 1 year of comfort and relationship?! Its so pathetic for him, but also so amusing.
You never got enough love in your childhood, parents always arguing, always at work, never have enough time for you, never here... You never felt true love and care, without help of someone close to you, you fell to this pit of darkness, suffer and destruction.
At the time when deal was settled, Alastor disappeared in shadows, leaving you alone, but watched...
Year felt like eternity.You found a guy who loved you and you felt yourself answering his love.You forgot about all the problems and horrors that you had in the past.Sweet talks, perfect mornings, you felt like you are in heaven, it was a perfect life.You already forgot about the deal.All you thought about was your partner. About the one who brought you joy.
All this time, Alastor was watching you from the shadows. He gave you the opportunity to live this goal in joy, as it was said in the deal.. He was amazed at how a person changes, giving him just a little love. He even found something in it....humorous....but..No matter how strange and unusual it was for a demon, he began to have feelings for you... strange feelings. He began to be annoyed by how happy you looked with this man. he should be in his place. he has your soul. Only he is in the right to evoke emotions in you.
In the last week of the year, he reminded of himself. You stood at the mirror and straightened your clothes, when suddenly your reflection began to blur and soon Alastor appeared instead of your reflection... You took a few steps back, almost falling. His grin widened slightly. He tilted his head to the side, as if mocking your fear.
"...What do you want...time is not up yet." You asked, raising your head slightly to slightly hide your fear, but this only caused the demon to chuckle. You heard his radio voice sound in your head, but the reflection in the mirror did not move its mouth. "Ah, darling, I know, I just wanted to remind you that your joys will soon come to an end."
“I know without you... Disappear.” Alastor frowned. He was angry at your insolence. You suddenly felt like you were lacking oxygen, you fell to your knees in front of the mirror, leaning your hands on the floor. Something was choking you, your eyes widened in fear , you felt cold, as if you had been sent outside in summer clothes in winter. “Tsk, tsk, tsk, you shouldn’t talk like that to someone who has you on a leash.”
You felt tears appearing in the corners of your eyes, you somehow raised your head and looked in the mirror. Alastor was still there with a sadistic grin. His eyes were narrowed in mockery. "P-please....Al-Alastor..."
"Address me right." His radio voice echoed in your head.You felt your strength leaving you.
"M-master.. s-sto-"
"Wrong"
You felt the invisible grip on your throat become stronger. A few more seconds and you will lose consciousness.
"Excuse me, m-master..F-forgive me for my i-ignorance!!!"
You finally took a deep breath, feeling that access to oxygen was no longer blocked.You lowered your head down, not wanting to look at the demon.Alastor watched your every move, he took great pleasure in the concept that you were in his power. It was something different, not what he usually felt when he played with his other victims.
The rest of the week was like hell, Alastor did not let you enjoy it. Every time he came into your dream, causing you horror just from his demonic appearance... No, not from the usual one, but from his full form.. Those big horns. ..fingers...no, they’re not even fingers, but long claws. He showed up in reflections every time. Just when you didn’t expect to see him there. Your boyfriend was of course worried about your condition, but you said that “Everything is fine, dear, I just didn't get enough sleep..."
It was the evening of the last day. You felt broken.You quarreled with your boyfriend, he said that he was disgusted with a person like you.
"I don't know what happened to you, but it's not you. You disgust me."
"B-but-"
"That's enough. I'm leaving."
You were lying on the sofa, your eyes swollen from crying, your hair disheveled, dark circles under your eyes from lack of sleep.You felt exactly the same as when you made a deal with the demon.Your hand lay on top of your face. You didn’t want to see anything.You wanted all of this already to end.
A hot tear slowly flowed from your face.Sound of wind playing with curtains was heard in the dead silence..You were going through the memories of how well you spent this year. Smile...Joy...you felt cold.No.Not because it was cold at home.Because of the fear.
You felt someone's presence next to the sofa.
"Here is my end" You understood, not opening your eyes.A graceful wave of your hand... A second and the sofa was covered in your blood. Alastor stood near the sofa, which was now completely covered in blood, leaning on his cane.
"It is not end, my dear.This is the beginning of the end."
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel x you#alastor#alastor the radio demon#hazbin alastor#hazbin hotel x reader#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you
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Chosen by Eywa - New Beginnings - Chapter 5
← chapter 4 | chapter 6 →
contains: arranged marriage, mentions of war and grief, angst, one-sided enemies to lovers, slow burn
wc: 5.8k
chosen by eywa masterlist | general avatar masterlist
a/n: see? i promised two chapters within a week and i'm delivering!!! also the next chapter is going to be the finale and i'm so bummed out about it. i feel very connected to this story and planning it from the beginning had brought me lots of peace
For a while, Y/N remained frozen, watching from a distance as the Na’vi surrounded the motionless body of her former love. Neteyam, who felt sick to his stomach just from the mere sight of Kaye, anxiously observed Y/N, waiting for something to happen, though he wasn’t sure what exactly to expect. Any kind of reaction instilled a sense of dread within him; would she ever be able to move on from that?
Jake had no time to recount the entire situation over the wired comms device. As the Olo’eyktan, he had to explain everything in a hurry to Neteyam, while also soaring through the territory in case anyone else defied the curfew and needed to be protected. But Jake’s voice gave it away - the worry, the guilt he had carried as the chief for such a pointless death. Kaye, who had lost his tracking device earlier, during the surveillance, and had been instructed to just abandon it, opted for sneaking after the curfew and searching for it. Joined by a friend, they landed within the area and continued their search on foot, when a single bullet suddenly found its mark beneath Kaye’s ribcage, tearing right through his left lung. The devilish human, a vile being who had no business lurking the land this late, and who had possessed neither the size nor the strength to bring down a Na’vi, somehow managed a victory. One that he’d boast about to his comrades later. By the time Kaye was hoisted onto the back of his friend's ikran and flown back to camp, it was already too late.
The surrounding Na'vi watched in horror as he drew his final breath, and then he was gone. It shattered Y/N. Her frozen composure suddenly moved, then a loud cry, as if she was in physical pain. A cry that had been suppressed for countless years, ingrained deep within her throat since the tragic day her parents were taken from her. Like an overwhelmingly big wave, desperation, remorse and guilt threatened her with loneliness she could no longer bear.
The Na'vi pressed closer to Kaye, shielding him from her view, but she surged forward to close that distance. It was as if she believed she could somehow resurrect him, breathe life back into his still form. It was strange and peculiar — how could a woman, bound to another man, suddenly mourn so passionately for a stranger?
Sobbing, she drew nearer, but hands, one after another, pushed her away from Kaye. Encountered with resistance and hushed pleas to calm down, Y/N only grew more desperate to reach him. Neteyam trailed closely behind her, but refrained from restraining her. Y/N was giving a piece of herself that she had kept closed off for years, as she crumbled before the entire clan. But he could only wait for her to reach for him when she was ready.
Yäyä’s cry was what pierced through the atmosphere then, bringing the crowd to a stillness. Having performed the sacred bond with Kaye and falling for him, his death felt like a nightmare. A nightmare she’d likely have after Kaye’s small but reckless rebellions, fueled by the desire to resist his parents' authority sometimes. As people stepped away, some not quick enough and pushed aside by her determined shoves, Yäyä pressed forward to make her way to her mate.
Through the haze, Y/N watched the unraveling scene and then it suddenly hit her like a thunderbolt. It should have been her, not Yäyä. To be bearing the weight of the loss, to forge a connection with Kaye, then ultimately release him back into the embrace of the Great Mother. Tears blurred Y/N's vision as she watched the poor girl kneel beside her beloved's lifeless body, hunching over him as if she was shielding him from the prying gazes of others.
Neteyam gulped down nervously, his hand reaching out to gently grasp Y/N's upper arm. His touch was delicate, so light that she barely registered it. Y/N turned her gaze towards him, her brows furrowing in a pitiful expression, and in that moment he thought he could hear his heart drop at the sight.
“Neteyam,” she whispered weakly, unsure of what exactly she was asking of him, but he understood anyway.
His arms opened instinctively, inviting her into an embrace, and the force with which her body collided with his threatened to knock him off balance. Her face pressed tightly against his chest, arms wrapped around his back, pressing on all of the wounds she was treating just a few moments ago, hurting him but he paid it no mind. She sobbed against him, and with every breath she took, he cradled her head gently, drawing her closer. Y/N’s words came in a blur, and he couldn’t understand what she was trying to tell him, but before he could even ask, Kiri appeared next to them, her hands resting on Y/N's back.
“Y/N, let’s get away from here, yeah?”
Kiri and Neteyam shared a knowing look, and he nodded in agreement. Slowly, he began to step back, gently guiding Y/N with him, never releasing his hold on her. Almost instinctively, Y/N's feet followed the movements of his body, as if they were entrained to his every step.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The remainder of the night passed by in a blur. Y/N had barely come to terms with the fact that the man she had once loved was now gone. No matter how much she regretted being with him, being his, no matter how much she hated him, nothing could have outweighed the immense pain she felt at his loss. Even though he had never truly been hers to begin with. The haunting image of Yäyä, broken and fragile, crumbling under the weight of grief, sent shivers down her spine.
Neteyam, who had brought Y/N back home with Kiri, now found himself alone with her. Kiri had promised to check on them later, as her assistance was required with the preparations for the upcoming funeral. Sitting on the ground, Y/N’s back leaned into his chest, the position that would have been awkward in any other circumstance, but now provided a sense of comfort. Y/N was no longer crying, and though Neteyam couldn’t see her face, he could guess that she had calmed down.
"I'm sorry," she mumbled, turning her face to meet his gaze. He furrowed his brows in response, his eyes tracing the trails of dried tears on her cheeks.
"Why are you apologizing?"
"I must have caused a scene…" Y/N's voice hitched, her gaze shifting downward as she fidgeted in her seat, "I didn't mean to... to... I'm not his mate... I mean, I just... and right next to Yäyä... I had no right to..."
"The right to grieve?" Neteyam completed her thought, his frown deepening. "Y/N, you have every right to feel pain. You were in love with him."
"I know," she sniffled, "But I wasn't -" another sniffle interrupted her words, "I'm sorry if it causes you any trouble."
"Y/N, I don't care about any of that," he assured her, his voice gentle, soothing like cool water against weary muscles.
Y/N shook her head, still refusing to meet his gaze. Now that the situation had settled in and she reflected on her actions, she had realized that she took away from the secrecy of their relationship with Kaye. And along with it, she made a cut in Neteyam’s carefully crafted image. Made space for the clan to speculate.
"Look at me," he insisted, gently lifting her chin with a finger, "You have every right to grieve for someone you loved. Nothing else matters."
She nodded weakly, her hand wrapping around his wrist in silent gratitude. Neteyam's eyes roamed across her face, searching for something he couldn't quite articulate. He gulped.
“We are a team, remember? Whether we like it or not, you can rely on me.”
And so, Neteyam stayed by her side throughout the night. He dozed off from time to time, only to awaken and check if she was still peaceful in his embrace. Neteyam wondered if she was truly comfortable in that position. He tried shifting his weight every now and then, attempting to create more space for her, but she’d only grumble in dissatisfaction and cling tighter to his chest.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The loss of Kaye, this time both literal and physical, was more dull rather than acute. Days seemed to stretch on endlessly, each one feeling like a month, and it was only at nights when Y/N felt just a little like herself. Neteyam became her guardian, shielding her fragile bubble from any disruptions, not tolerating even his grandmother, who sought to push Y/N back into her duties. He understood that she needed her time, and he was ready to give her as much as she required, becoming the only consonant in her routine. His heart swelled with a clinging torturous protectiveness towards her that he embraced without hesitation.
Eventually, though it still seemed too soon, Y/N returned back to her duties. The lessons she had missed were especially hard, but she only encouraged the challenge because it helped her take her mind off things. But what distracted her even more, an undeniable part of her recovery, was the man she was promised to. As if Neteyam had effortlessly woven himself into her thoughts, his scent lingered in her home, his gaze on her was so warm, it surpassed the brilliance of a thousand suns. Slowly, but surely, somethin started to bloom inside of her that felt beyond gratitude and loyalty towards him.
Now more often than out of obligation, their paths continued to intersect, with Neteyam seeking her out in between his breaks under the reasoning of checking on her. Small activities they shared nestled the dearest place in her heart, easing the scars left behind by Kaye's tragic passing. Like a balm for her wounds, Neteyam became everything that she craved.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
All that time, Neteyam feared that Kaye’s death would affect the fragile relationship he had with Y/N, thinking that she would drift further away under the weight of grief. But when she leaned on Neteyam instead, seeking comfort and finding strength in his support, he realized that maybe the roots of their bond had taken deeper than they ever saw coming. And if they survived this, then maybe they could face anything together.
But the newfound confidence quickly wavered with a single announcement. The fear of tying their lives together was mutual, seeped into both of their thoughts. They couldn’t deny the pull they felt for another but the weight of the ceremony, looming over them as an unknown abyss, was too heavy to sustain.
“You two look like ghosts, what did grandmother say?” Kiri was eager to tease her brother and Y/N, once they walked out of Mo’at’s tent.
Y/N felt a knot form in her stomach at the question, glancing up at Neteyam next to her, who seemed equally anxious, chewing on his bottom lip. Was their bond strong enough to survive such timing? Kiri, tired of waiting, raised her eyebrows to urge them to speak.
“Tsahik has set the day for the ceremony,” Neteyam took a deep sigh before passing the news to his sister, "It will take place in ten days' time, during the next full moon."
“So soon?” Kiri questioned, glancing between her brother and Y/N.
“The bond between two mates is supposed to be sacred, and Eywa has deemed it the right time for our union,” Y/N repeated Mo’at’s words.
Neither of them protested.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“I can’t today,” Y/N forced an apologetic smile, “There's so much to prepare for the ceremony. I’m sure you’d -”
“I understand,” Neteyam nodded eagerly to convince her he really did, “I have preparations to make as well.”
Y/N let out a sigh of relief, the interaction had been repeated a few times already over the course of the past few days, ever since Mo’at had declared the date for the blessing of their union as mates. Neteyam backed out of the healing tent with a sheepish smile, but his mind was a mess. He couldn’t understand why she suddenly made him so nervous? The weight of the approaching ceremony fueled his unease every time he saw her now.
To make the matters worse, the vision from his Dream Hunt relentlessly invaded his dreams every night. There she was, the graceful and strong woman standing beside him, holding his hand, haunting his subconscious that was already stirred with the events in his life. The unusually long necklace, adorned with blue feathers and layered twice, hung from her neck, cascading down to her hips. But as his eyes tried tracing her face, it felt like the image of her slipped through his grasp like sand. No matter how hard he tried, her face remained a mystery. He would wake up in the middle of the night, the vision of this woman lingering in his mind, and he would desperately try to recapture the moments, hiding his face in between his knees and squeezing his eyes shut to go back. But his thoughts would invariably drift to his soon-to-be mate.
What was Y/N feeling? There was a whirlwind of emotions, bundled up from the loss, from the gain, from the upcoming unknown. But she wasn’t quite ready to face their depths. So she occupied herself with preparations for the ceremony earnestly, not out of her wish to become Neteyam’s, rather out of desperation to avoid him as much as she could. Seeing him made it all too real, too rushed, so instead she had declared herself to be busy for walks, for talks, for any kind of interaction that’d be long enough to give away her anxiousness.
To choose and make the ceremonial special mixes, to weave her garments, to prepare a gift for her future mate - everything seemed to be more important, than spending time with Neteyam. But deep down, she was just scared. Of facing the guilt she carried for letting go of Kaye and having her heart beat for Neteyam now.
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
The night was draped in a blanket of darkness when Neteyam found himself standing outside Y/N’s home, the faint flicker of light from the inside drawing him closer. He hesitated for a moment before nearing the entrance. He wanted to respect this distance between them that she eagerly seeked out but it’s been too difficult.
The sight of Y/N immediately took his breath away. Under the soft glow of the handmade fluorescent lamps, Y/N was hunching over a piece of unfinished jewelry, her fingers working swiftly, with far more ease than when she worked on mats. The piece resembled a traditional Omatikaya necklace but its intricacy suggested a higher rank than any of their clan members would typically wear. It was as if she had envisioned him wearing it one day, in his rightful place as the Olo'eyktan. Neteyam gulped nervously at the thought.
Y/N, sensing his presence, suddenly looked up from her work, eyes widening in surprise to find him standing there. It had been a while since they had been truly alone together, ever since the announcement of the ceremony.
“Neteyam?” her voice was quiet, “What are you doing here?”
Neteyam cleared his throat, his gaze lingering on the unfinished necklace for a moment.
"I... I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "I saw the light and... I wanted to see what you were doing."
Y/N clutched the half-finished necklace, hiding it from his view with a hurry. A small pout settled on her face from his sudden curiosity.
“It’s not done, stop looking,” she ordered protectively.
“Is it for me?” Neteyam couldn’t resist the prying.
He stepped further, sitting down in front of her and craning his neck to catch a glimpse of the piece she was masterfully hiding from him. He chuckled to himself, shaking his head in amusement at the childish behavior.
“Seriously, aren’t you going to show it to me?”
“No, it has to be a surprise,” she was a little irritated with his sternness.
“Really?” he quirked an eyebrow with irony.
“Well, can I see your gift?” Y/N challenged him back.
“No, but -”
“Then I’m not showing you this. It’s not finished yet.”
He smirked, finding the whole banter just amusing and relaxing for the first time in days, but decided not to push it. Deciding to give her a little more space, he leaned back on his palms and watched with a glint in his eyes, as Y/N quickly gathered her supplies away, hiding the necklace as promptly as she could under her working table.
“Why are you even awake at this hour?”
Her question caused him to falter. It really has slipped his mind to come up with an excuse to invade her space this late at night.
“I guess… I wanted to check on you. We haven’t spoken in a while.”
“We spoke this morning.”
“No, not like that,” Neteyam shook his head, “I mean a real conversation.”
“Yeah, well… we have been busy, it’s not like…” Y/N trailed off guiltily.
“Not like you were avoiding me?”
“What? No!” she quickly withdrew from the accusation, though it was a truthful one.
“Come on, Y/N. I can see that you’re dreading to spend time with me. I know this timing for the ceremony is not ideal, but if we just push through this together, instead of doing it alone -” his words tumbled out of his mouth in a rush, but Y/N interrupted him, pressing a finger to his lips. His eyes widened, waiting for an explanation.
"I'm just nervous," she confessed softly, her hand falling back into her lap.
“You are?”
“Of course, aren’t you?”
“Are you kidding me? I haven’t slept in a week!” Neteyam chuckled with relief.
A soft smile stretched Y/N’s lips, and under the soft light, it almost seemed like Neteyam was glowing too, a bright orange warmth radiated from within his chest and spread out all the way to his cheeks.
“I didn’t know that you had the ability to get nervous,” Y/N couldn't help but tease.
He gave her a lopsided smirk, almost as if he was annoyed but at the same time excited that the feeling of being wrapped up in her comfort had finally returned.
"Even I can have flaws sometimes," he playfully retorted, earning a playful smack on his chest in response.
He caught her palm in his hand, gently placing it against his chest just above his ribcage, and both of their heartbeats picked up. Y/N looked up at him with tenderness, surprised by the intimate gesture, but it felt more profound than any moment she had ever shared with Kaye. The intensity in Neteyam's eyes mirrored her own emotions, as if he was pleading for something, anything from her. When his eyes fell to her lips, a blush warmed her cheeks, and Y/N cleared her throat. Quickly, Neteyam withdrew his hand, rising to his feet. The air in the room suddenly filled with a hint of awkwardness
"Well, I better go. I have to wake up early tomorrow," he hurriedly explained, "It's... um, a really important mission."
Y/N nodded with slight disappointment, not sure if it was aimed more at him or at herself.
“Good luck, Neteyam.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“Neteyam!” Y/N shouted, her eyes fluttering open.
With a ragged breath and cheeks wet from tears, she jumped off of her mat immediately, having just woken up from a vivid nightmare. Her heart pounded at the images of Neteyam going off the mission and never returning. This rotten feeling of something bad happening gripped her stomach, urging her to rush out of her home as soon as her feet could carry her.
It was already an early morning, sun just barely rising from behind the horizon, and Y/N feared she might have been too late. Her steps were fueled by desperation, as she finally made it to Sully's home, ignoring the cold morning air sending shivers down her skin. Before she could proceed further into the pod, Jake, who went unnoticed by the young woman, caught her attention.
“Are you okay, kid?” he raised his eyebrows in response to her flinch, clearly not expecting to be seeing him.
The Olo’eyktan was sitting on the ground, his back leaning against the wall, the strange sky people's weapons were laid out in front of him, as he was in the middle of checking every single one before the day ahead. Y/N only nodded, the reality of her actions just settling in, turning her cheeks dark blue from all the embarrassment crashing in.
“Oel ngati kameie,” she quickly signed to him, bowing her head slightly, “Is Neteyam still home?”
Jake hummed with a slight confusion, still unsure of what the girl had been doing so early in the morning there, clearly distraught. But before he could voice out his response, Neteyam already walked out of the pod, with his mother right behind him. Y/N’s eyes quickly traced the similar weapons adorning both Na’vi, their war paint already on. She caught them just a moment before they were ready to leave, and drew in a small breath of relief.
“Oel ngati kameie,” she gestured quickly to Neytiri, her eyes darting between the woman and her son.
Both were surprised to see her there but the anxiousness plastered over Y/N’s face worried Neteyam. He greeted her back, silently asking for an explanation with his gaze. Just like Jake, Neytiri observed the exchange with a small frown.
“Y/N, is something wrong?” Neteyam urged her gently, his own voice haltering at the sudden fear of rejection.
He went home last night content with their mutual confessions, thinking that they had reached an understanding. But right then, as she stood before him like that, doubts started reappearing in his mind. What if she was there to tell him she wasn’t ready? That she regretted agreeing to the union?
“I have to speak with you right now,” Y/N requested with a stern voice.
“We don’t have time for that, kid,” Jake intervened, as he stood up from his seat, “Once Lo’ak is ready, we’re leaving for the mission.”
Y/N’s eyes darted pleadingly between the three Sully’s. Her hand reached out for Neteyam’s, clinging to him, as she glanced back at Jake, her voice breaking.
“It is very important, please.”
“Jake,” Neytiri finally chimed in, her tone empathetic, “Let them speak.”
The chief shook his head with slight irritation but complied with his mate’s wish anyway. His gaze softened once it landed on their intertwined hands.
“Alright, but only for a minute. I’m serious, Neteyam.”
“Yes, sir.”
Quickly, Y/N nodded in gratitude to the Olo’eyktan, as she led Neteyam slightly away from them, enough to feel safe in her confession. Her eyes were already tearing up, and she wasn’t really sure why, but Neteyam tensed up immediately, preparing himself to take whatever she was going to throw at him.
"Neteyam, you can't go on this mission. I had a dream, and... you never came back from it. You can't go now," she began to babble, her words rushed and jumbled together.
“Y/N, what are you talking about?” he frowned, barely managing to get anything out of what she said.
"I saw you in my dream! You got shot and fell from your ikran during the mission. I lost you," she choked, her eyes welling up with tears once again. "Please, you have to listen to me."
“Y/N, I can’t miss out on this mission. It is too important,” Neteyam stepped closer, his voice reassuring her with his gentle tone, “You just had a nightmare. It wasn’t real.”
“I can’t lose you too,” a tear streamed down her cheek.
As the first rays of sunrise painted the sky, Neteyam's heart swelled with a love as vast as the forests of Pandora. The sight of her, standing there with tear-filled eyes, pleading for him to stay, stirred something deep within him. He could feel the roots of their connection grow stronger, intertwining with his every fiber. With a tender touch, he wiped her cheek with his palm, then tucked the hair behind her ear.
“I will be safe, I promise.”
“I can’t let you go.”
“My child,” Neytiri's voice broke the moment, drawing their attention.
Y/N hastily wiped away her eyes, aware that Neytiri had likely overheard their conversation. In the past days, most of Y/N’s time was spent on the preparations, occupying herself with endless options for things that were not as important as just her being ready mentally. But the pressure of perfection weighed even heavier on Y/N under Neytiri's watchful presence. As a Na'vi deeply rooted in tradition and loyalty to their home, Neytiri's opinion held great significance. Y/N couldn't help but feel a nervousness, fearing that her choices would be met with disapproval. Though she didn’t know that Neytiri’s attentiveness was only fueled by the intention of seeking out signs that Y/N and her eldest son were finally growing closer. Now seeing the way Y/N teared up at the mere thought of Neteyam getting hurt had finally satisfied that curiosity.
“Do not worry about Neteyam, he is a skilled warrior, and he will be safe,” she stepped closer to Y/N, hand reaching out to softly pat her back.
“But the dream -”
“It is only a bad dream,” Neytiri interrupted the small protest, “Kiri has told me about how busy and restless you have been recently. Perhaps even nervous about the nearing of the ceremony? That must have affected your mood.”
Y/N nodded hesitantly at the inquiry. Neytiri offered her an understanding smile.
“You worry too much,” she concluded, “Stay with the girls today. They’ll help you with distractions.”
“Especially Tuk,” Neteyam chimed in with a reassuring smile, “She has been dying to spend time with you anyway.”
︵‿︵‿︵‿︵
“I made you a necklace!” Tuk's eyes sparkled with enthusiasm as she jumped up from the ground, eager to present her masterpiece she had been crafting for the past days under the guidance of her mother.
“Oh, Tuk, you didn’t have to!” Y/N leaned back, a gentle smile gracing her lips, as she observed the young girl.
"She's been eager to welcome you into the family, so," Kiri replied with a smirk, taking a seat next to Y/N, "She even convinced Lo'ak to find these blue feathers for her."
“Hey, don’t spoil it!”
Y/N chuckled at the distraction, but as she waited for Tuk to retreat the necklace, her thoughts drifted back to Neteyam. The Sully’s tent was already filled with darkness, it was way past the sunset and the war party still hasn’t returned from their mission. Y/N sat up straight, her posture tensing up at the thoughts, trying to steady her nervous breaths. The chaos that unfolded from Tuk’s search for the gift somehow brought that panic back into her. Kiri observed her friend with curiosity.
To Kiri, Y/N changed drastically in the past months. The way she carried herself, how she slowly grew more accustomed to the idea of being in an arranged union with Neteyam, her active involvement in the preparations. She seemed like a changed person, better, stronger. And though at first Kiri had written it off as being an aftermath of distracting herself from Kaye’s death, now seeing how anxious Y/N was turning with every minute as she glanced towards the door, it was evident that it was rather the effect of her older brother.
“They’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”
“Hm?” Y/N turned to face her, “It is so late though…”
“But the mission was kind of big and dangerous and they had to be extra careful?” Kiri quirked her eyebrow, a slight irony registering in her voice, “Trust me, they have done this a thousand times. Dad and mom won’t let anything bad happen.”
“Of course, I do not question your parents’ bravery and skill, it is just,” Y/N took a deep sigh, “This dream really messed me up.”
“You refused to believe Tsahik’s vision from Eywa about you and Neteyam but you think a silly nightmare you had is a warning?”
“No,” Y/N blushed deeply at the mention of the vision, then casted her gaze downwards, “I do believe Tsahik now.”
The very idea that Y/N had strongly opposed was now tinged with an unexpected delight. The thought of the Great Mother orchestrating the entire situation to bring her and Neteyam closer together sent such a pleasant shiver down her spine. Thankfully, before Kiri could tease her about the open admittance, Tuk interrupted, kneeling in front of them and placing a string of beads and blue feathers in Y/N's lap.
“Here! Lo’ak said it will be too long but you’re tall, right?” Tuk’s eyes twinkled with excitement.
Y/N couldn't suppress a snort of amusement, grateful for the momentary distraction. She let Tuk place the necklace around her neck in two layers, even though it was still overly long and disproportionate for an adult Na'vi. As Y/N stood up, the feathery necklace cascaded down to her hip bone. But it was surprisingly complimenting her tall frame.
"Well, Tuk, what do you think?" Y/N attempted a half-hearted twirl, earning a genuine laughter from the little girl.
“That looks nice!” a male voice chimed in, and all eyes turned towards the entrance.
It was Jake, walking in with a knowing smile, already recognizing the handiwork of his youngest. Y/N's own smile faded instantly, her heart pounding in her chest as she anxiously scanned the room for a familiar face. One after the other, Neytiri and Lo'ak entered, carrying items, retreated from the mission, but the commotion of Tuk running to her parents and their concerned inquiries to Kiri began to fade into the background. Y/N's eyes locked onto the man she had been worrying about the entire day, and her knees were ready to give out at the mere sight of him.
Neteyam, visibly exhausted and weary, entered the room carrying the remaining weapons they had retrieved. When his eyes met Y/N's, they lit up with a sudden glow. Without hesitation, she leaped towards him, and though his arms were still occupied with unfamiliar items, she wrapped her own around his neck with a sigh of relief.
“Thank Eywa, you’re okay!” Y/N tightened her grasp, burying her face in the crook of his neck.
Neteyam, taken aback by the sudden affection, took a brief moment to set aside the items he was carrying and hugged her back. A toothy joyful grin quickly made its way to his face.
"I'm more than okay," he chuckled, his heart melting from the warmth. He almost didn’t even notice the way his family watched the whole interaction with teasing smiles.
He rolled his eyes at his father, who gave him an approving nod, but couldn’t ignore the way his heart raced in sync with Y/N’s. The lines of worry and exhaustion that had been etched onto his face throughout the heavy mission began to fade away within the comfort of her arms.
“So grandmother was right,” Lo’ak mumbled with sarcasm, though the nature of Y/N’s and Neteyam’s relationship had been predicted by the whole family since a few weeks ago.
“They like each other, right, mom?” Tuk's voice echoed loudly through the room, pulling Neteyam and Y/N back to the present moment. Neytiri, her eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and affection, nodded in response to her daughter's question.
Y/N quickly unwrapped herself from Neteyam, an awkwardness finding a way into the air. She gave him a sheepish apologetic smile but his gentle smile in return sent a pleasant warmth to her cheeks. Hastily, she averted her eyes, settling them on the family.
“Come on, let’s give them some privacy guys,” Jake pretended to be serious about it, but not even he could hide the excitement in his own tone, “We’ll go to Tsahik for a check-up and will be back soon.”
Like toddlers, one after the other, Neytiri rushed her kids out. But all of them still kept those teasing, mischievous expressions on their faces. Even Lo’ak, who had barely shown any interest in the arrangement since its beginning, dealing with his own difficulties with his parents, couldn’t help but snicker at his brother, knowing exactly what he was going to joke about later, when they were alone. On his way out, Jake gave them a final nod.
“Y/N, you’re staying with us tonight, right?”
Awkwardly, she could only nod back.
Once the tent was empty, Y/N took a moment before finally turning around to face Neteyam. He still had that soft look on his face that made it dawn upon her how much she missed him. And that maybe she loved him?
Simultaneously, Neteyam’s eyes traced her face, then the blue caught his attention and as he took in the obnoxiously long necklace around her neck adorned with big blue feathers, his breath got stuck in his throat.
“Is that yours?” he asked suddenly.
“Oh, yeah, Tuk gave it to me,” she answered a little confused.
The vision from his Dream Hunt suddenly felt complete - the tall beautiful woman standing next to him, a long necklace hanging low from her neck. It was supposed to be Y/N! The woman he had been obsessed with the idea of, that Eywa herself had chosen for him, wasn't just a mere concept of a destined mate; it was Y/N, standing right beside him.
a/n: pls ignore if this is poorly written, i didn't spend enough time on proofreading this, so?? anyway, prepare for more fluff for the finale :)
finale
♡ taglist ♡ : @kiri-tuk @samiiistarss @afro-hispwriter @iwantjaketosullyme @thexplosivegirl @peachinsomniac @im-in-a-pansexual-panik @koala-wonderland @sakura-onesan @dimplesxx @i-live-in-a-fantasy-daydream @theycallmesia @crazy4books1 @empiricsad @summertimedepression @vihelm @cleverzonkwombatsludge @ducks118 @couragemydearheart @xstarsmvxz @jkeluv @qtkat @marsbars09 @buckysleftarm420 @soleilmoon @blueslxt-primary @kavyaas-world @books-for-summer @tojis-discord-kitten @nerdybouquetofkittens-blog @jackiehollanderr @totesnothere04
#♡♡♡#neteyam x y/n#neteyam x reader#chosen by eywa series#neteyam sully x reader#neteyam sully#neteyam angst#forced marriage#arranged marriage#one sided love#enemies to lovers#angsty romance#avatar 2 fic#avatar x reader#neteyam x omatikaya!reader#jake sully#tsahik#fanfiction#avatar fic recs#avatar 2#neteyam#avatar the way of water#olo'eyktan#reader x neteyam#sully brothers#slowburn#slow burn romance
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The Ascent of Lying
Why, Mordor people? Why do you lie?
Is it stupidity? Hunger Greed for clicks? That #silly, #silly itch to be FIRST? And RIGHT?
The Ascent of Lying started in this fandom with *urv. Her Google sources, her undying obsession for S (and the mandatory hypocrisy that comes along with it), her paltry stories fit for people who never took a flight overseas in their entire life (not something bad at all, but in this context, this makes you incredibly fragile), her remake of the Twilight fandom hullaballoo and her chutzpah.
It continued with Jess, on this side of the fandom: her OTT girlish enthusiasm, her elusiveness IRL and finally, her capitulation and resurrection, under the same name, but with a totally opposed POV. For perhaps you don't know it, but Jess 2.0 has been back since quite a while ago, now making amends about her former strong beliefs. Even taking full responsibility for some 'receipts' (remember the S lemon pin/wedding ring one? she confirmed it was her and it probably was a #silly, horrible lie). How convenient and how depressing, isn't it? Reading her new, sparse blog brought along two firm thoughts: why this need to robotically inform us about her happiness and her change of heart? Also, how many Anons did Jess 2.0 send, since her comeback, to this side of the fandom?
Let this disappointment be my sin, then and let the link to her new hole in the wall remain undisclosed by this page. I have no wish to either start a flaming war, nor give this woman more space than she deserves:
You'll have to deal with the very childish LMAO and this completely irresponsible explanation: 'it was fun to fantasize at the time'. No, lady: you LIED. You lied through your teeth and because you had the privilege of having a thirsty audience, you thoroughly enjoyed this strange avatar of fame, as you say it publicly yourself, now. You even were, most probably, heavily used by ***'s PR and even S (that is a very firm belief), just like another very fragile individual, who switched sides in a far more vocal and pathetic way. That makes for a mixed bag of truths and lies, something I think we all are way too familiar with, by now. But that does not preclude, nor excuse in any shape or form, your eagerness to ahem, 'embellish" a very real love story and twist it according to your naivete and parochial life experience. Morally, you are 0, to me: a sentimental troll, completely on par with *urv.
I could blather on and on about Jess's main competitor, Puffy, too. I think I already wrote enough about her, if only because many believed me to be her latest avatar, which is completely ridiculous, but ridiculous with an agenda. So, did Puffy lie, too? Probably, especially while creating Stella and Deep Throat out of thin air. Let's agree she heavily extrapolated, which is a shame, because some of her analysis is really spot on.
The Ascent of Lying then morphed, along with an US busy social and political agenda being more and more sensitive to the 'fake news" issue, towards the Factchecker Anti blogs, who mimicked neutrality and promoted online stalking to unprecedented levels. Along came people like Meowkabob, who even manufactured their own facts/evidence and released them online. That was perfectly premeditated and done for increased credibility (I have debunked her shite last fall, if you remember), being fully aware that her libel could not be justified only by a prior, questionable, 'London experience', of which we conveniently have no concrete details. The other blog, you all know and sometimes visit: whether she is a PR plant or lonely rider doesn't really matter, yet a stalker and a hypocrite in her own right, too. The fact that both these persons suddenly felt an urge to express themselves during the heavily conspiratorial climate of the first COVID pandemic wave is not innocent at all, I think.
Lying is the real Uncharted Territory of this fandom and one of the main reasons we seldom have nice things to talk about, anymore. I barely scratched its surface and merely stated the obvious. If anything, it only comforted and strengthened my own beliefs, which I always strived to base on personal findings and facts, along with other likeminded people's experience. And I'd rather take the general brunt and simply say 'I don't know", than embellish. Also, when I am wrong, I am wrong: it happens to the best of us and it's always either immediately edited and explained or taken full responsibility for.
What I do know with a reasonable degree of certainty is that These Two are together. And this is all that matters to me, justifying my presence here.
Thank you for coming to my TED talk. There's more, but here is just an overview of the sentiments that prompted my next investigation.
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Stucked - Part 3
You're trapped in a game and a new threat is lurking.
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Pairing: John "Soap" MacTavish x reader, Simon "Ghost" Riley x reader
Tags: Mentions of death, Mentions of blood and gore, Blood and Violence, Sexual Scenes, Alternate Universe, No use of Y/N, Not Beta Read, AFAB Reader
Trigger Warning: Contains mentions of violence. Please, keep that in mind!
⚠️MDNI⚠️
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Author's Note
I watched too much Netflix on the weekend, so here is the next part! Everything gets even more complicated.
Have fun! :D
Part 1, Part 2
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"Simon, it's been so long since we met!" Pam squeals, turning to the new man with such enthusiasm as if she really knew him for years, even though you're pretty sure that this strange figure has never paid his respects in the game until now. And the fact that your partner freely allows herself to be pulled into an overly intimate hug makes your stomach turn. Because you get that visceral feeling of a wolf hugging a deer before sinking its teeth into its flesh and tearing it to shreds.
Because you're not so naive as not to know that the newcomer didn't appear here to help you. And all you have to do is look at Johnny and see that cheerful light in his sky-blue eyes, which are too sincere for the stranger to be just a simple side character. No, this man exudes a different kind of menace, and you've died just enough and been in enough pain to recognize the dark cruelty in those warm brown eyes when they look at you.
You take careful steps closer to the porch, and your grip on the strap of your bag tightens almost painfully, as if the poor fabric could save you, whatever might be lurking to pounce on you. Everything has gone through an unsettling change, as if the game has turned into a fleeting mirage, approaching which, instead of the apparent calm, more horrors would await. And you're sure that whatever this goddamn place is up to, it's trying to discourage you from getting out in increasingly evil ways. Why throw in more and more unusual twists otherwise?
And as soon as you step onto the veranda, the wooden planks creak under your shoes, as if the small voice would want to warn you to be on your guard. Although all your senses are sharpened by the stress, and all your muscles are filled with energy ready to flee, you're still unprepared as Johnny hugs you, even though this is the only certain point since the restart, which takes place in the same way as before. But when he pulls you to his broad chest, and his strong arms wrap around you, your heart skips a beat because like a lightning strike, the memories of last night come back to you. His hot breath caresses your neck, and as the sensitive skin begins to tingle wildly, your stomach shrinks to an impossibly small size, because the burning reminder of his touch smolders in each and every pore of yours. As if every inch he touched in the suffocating darkness of the kitchen would be covered in aching flames at the same time, so that you know where he marked you for himself.
And your body acts almost on its own, because as you feel the hardness slowly coming to life in his groin pressing to your stomach, visceral fear rushes through you, and you want nothing more than to run away. Your hands come to life on their own, and you push the man away from you so forcefully that even he himself is surprised. And as you step back and fix your frightened gaze on him, you see the grim glint in his eyes, with which he stares at you for a moment. And the little voice in your head that tells you, that your rejection brought a much harsher distaste to the handsome face than any pain you caused him yesterday…
But what worries you much more than this is how, from this small movement, reality suddenly freezes around you, and all eyes are settled on you with such tense disbelief that it makes the little hairs on your back stand up. An inexpressible tension spreads over the faces of your two companions, their delicate features for a fleeting moment resembling more closely to the plastic mannequins standing lifelessly in store windows. You see a small muscle twitch on Rebecca's face, as her wide, glassy eyes stare at you, the gentle innocence replaced by something quite terrifying. Her fingers are clenched into fists with such force that her knuckles slowly turn white, and small drops of blood emerge from her closed fingers as her nails dig into her palm. You immediately understand that you made a mistake. Because this game won't tolerate you openly defying it. It doesn't like it when you stop the sick charade prematurely, because you spoil the fun. Fuck.
"I'm just… a little tired, sorry." You stammer, immediately letting the first words, which form in your panic-stricken brain, fall to your mouth, and as the force that painfully squeezes Pam's jaw eases a little, you know that you’ll have to be more careful. "I'm going to rest a little." You pull a weak smile on your face and hate how pathetically thin the voice that comes out of you is.
The ominous shadow that had sits there suddenly disappears from Johnny's face, and as if the game had calmed down at the first signs of your desperation, the tense moment dissipates, and the stomach-churning peacefulness, that weaves through this cursed fever dream like a disgusting illness, takes its place again.
"Come on, Bunny, don't worry about it." Johnny reassures you, and although his tone is perfectly relaxed, you still discover the hard promise behind the harmless words. This small opposition will have serious consequences, and you don't even dare to imagine how this stupid mistake of yours will affect the course of the already unusual events. "Go unpack. Ye'll need yer strength for the party." He says lightheartedly, and the smile that escapes to his full lips makes your stomach jump uncomfortably, because even though the mask of innocence is now resting on his face, you can already read his every little twitch all too well. And from the way, despite the cheerfully upward curve of his mouth, the same sparkle that you discovered in the reflection of the window, when you were trapped by him in that blasted kitchen, moves into his eyes, and fear grips your insides in an icy fist almost immediately. Because there's nothing sweet or charming about the way your every nerve admits that you've been thrust into the spotlight of a predator's undivided attention.
Without a word, you head inside, almost sprinting from the stress that is awakening in your body, like a scared little mouse that is about to flee from the cat. The stranger, Simon, lets you storm over the threshold, and if your mind didn't cling to every last crumb of your sanity so bitterly, you might wonder why he's cooperating so willingly. Everything has a price and nothing happens without a reason. Every drop of peace, every grain of kindness is a deceptive trap. But you want to escape too quickly.
Your pulse is pounding in your ears as you run up the stairs, and you automatically make your way to your room, because even if someone would wake you up from a dream, you'd find it, you've wandered through this horrible house so many times. You almost tear open the door as you rush in, and you slam it behind you with such speed that even you get startled by the impact. But nothing happens, no one comes after you, and when you finally calm down and sure that you were able to hide from the prying eyes, you stumble through the friendly little room panting, just to fall on your bed with trembling legs.
Burying your face in your hands, you try to hold back the start of the scream slowly rising in your throat, and between the wooden paneled walls only the gentle rustling of your breathing echoes, as you try to swallow the air in heavy gulps from panic, to see if your lungs will be filled with peace along with the fine particles of dust. And it takes what seems like a thousand years before the frantic beating of your heart finally eases, and you dance back from the panic attack that the last few hours you experienced so enthusiastically drove you towards. Goddamnit.
Everything went so awfully well, you finally started to understand the rules, you navigated yourself through the maze of clues, you really made progress, but now everything seems to be collapsing like a damn house of cards. You've already died twice without having a chance to progress, and if that wasn't horrible enough, Johnny's strange behavior, his increasingly dirty tactics, and the arrival of the newcomer shake this hellish vision-like torture chamber to its foundations. And now you're not even sure how to move forward, because you feel that every single step you take forward is followed by an even more cruel pushback, and with every minute, every hour, every night you spend here, you drift further away from the way out. Although, you want nothing more. For real air caress your skin, the ringing of the laughter of real people in your ears, and to finally not suffer and hurt, again, and again, and again... Enough!
You run your hands through your hair with a frustrated sigh, and you'd like to pull out the strands in clumps, but you know that it won't make the situation any easier or any less complicated. You have to find a solution because whoever or whatever created this game is meant to keep you here. It occurs to you that maybe this damn place feeds on your pain and fear, and if that's the case, then it makes sense that it’ll do everything it can to drag you into even deeper and more complicated problems, where it can watch you writhe in its clutches. But you are stronger than that. The instinct to survive and the desire for freedom is much stronger in you than to let yourself be trampled. You won't let those killers in sheep's clothing, nor the thousands of dangers lurking around you, deter you from your goal.
And when you feel that enough confidence has returned to your limbs, and your legs can safely support you, then although the trembling of terror is still there in your muscles, the fog of alarm has lifted from your brain enough so that you can focus on planning. You can't do anything else but wait to see how the story develops with the new character, and watch in the background to observe what else changes. You need to gather information, because you're almost certain that Simon is another killer who will try to hunt you down. And thus three possible attackers will be panting in your heels. You have to be careful, and you have to move forward now, because you can't waste another night on distractions. Today you have to get behind the locked door. No matter what it takes.
And that suddenly reminds you that maybe it's time to check the key you got. But as your fingers reach into your pocket, they feel nothing but emptiness, and this makes you rummage through all the hidden corners of your jeans, but the miserable little object still doesn't appear. It wouldn't be the first time that some clues don't pop up again where you previously hid them, which is why, even though you have a bad suspicion in the back of your head, you keep your composure and turn towards your bag carelessly thrown on your bed. But no matter how deep you dig among the many clothes and small trinkets, you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for. And then the dreadful feeling claws into your stomach with an iron fist, and like a deadly poison, fear snakes its way into your cells, paralyzing every single nerve.
You grab your bag with hasty movements, and you turn it upside down so hurriedly to violently shake every hidden knick-knack out of it, that the thousand and one personal belongings hidden inside land with a dull thud on the floor. And no matter how you try to scan through the chaos with your eyes, no matter how you search among your clothes scattered on the ground with your hands, there's no sign of the key, as if it had been swallowed by earth. And your mind immediately tries to produce a series of solutions to somewhat alleviate the bitter taste of despair bubbling up in your throat, but each answer that seems likely pushes you further and further towards hysteria. It's possible that the key has returned to its original location and you have to go get it again, but this is a more solvable problem. But if the key has completely disappeared, it means that the game has rearranged the clues and you can start the pursuit all over again, because you have no idea what the path you need to take can be... meanwhile, one more danger is out to get you. This damn, trashy, vile game!
You feel the weight of realization sinking deeper and deeper into you, and with each passing minute, the situation you have fallen into seems increasingly hopeless. And it makes no sense for everything to turn upside down so suddenly, but no matter how hard you try to put together the puzzle that could help you decipher what caused the tiny little moment that started the whole upheaval like an avalanche, you can't figure out what you could have messed up. But you're sure it has something to do with Johnny. His lustful adventure was the catalyst for the whole unimaginable complication, and since then nothing has been the same. And if everything took a dark turn because of him, then it will be worth keeping an eye on him, because he can only bring more trouble to your head.
But as you look around the room with the confusion of a chased animal, your senses, dulled by stress, still find something utterly alien in the false calm of the neat little room. Because you're pretty sure that until now none of the books resting on the bookshelf had an intelligible title, but only a random sequence of letters on them, which always looked more like a gibberish language that appeared in a dream than any real one. But now you're definitely reading meaningful words on the spines of books, and that makes your body charge towards the bookshelf in a minute.
And when you get closer and read the message that appears on them, you're already quite sure that this miserable game wants to contact you. Because even though none of them would make sense individually, as you turn your head and read the titles outlined on the shabby covers one by one, you quickly understand the message:
Let me help you a little, Bunny :) Open me!
This is the first time that the system has given you such an obvious sign, so even though a thousand alarm bells are ringing in your head, your curiosity is much stronger. And you have a fleeting feeling that you’re not in a position to say no.
You reach carefully for the last book, which encourages you to dig in with a hypocritical kindness, as if something terrible could happen at any moment. And you already know this miserable place too well to know, that behind every seemingly innocent thing, something quite horrible can be hidden, like a demon waiting to break your neck when you are unwary.
But, when you pull out the volume, not a single monster jumps out from a secret corner to take your life, and although this eases the gnawing worry in your stomach, it doesn't completely put your suspicion to sleep. But when you open it, you're greeted with blank pages, and you flip through the wretched book in confusion, until finally a short message becomes visible. And although there are only a few short lines, it's enough to plant the seeds of terror in your mind.
I won't bite, don't be afraid,
I just want a playmate,
And if your blood is shed once more by my kin,
Whose mark has already bloomed on your skin,
Then you'll fall into the abyss deeper,
And you'll stay here with me forever :)
And you don't have to be particularly smart to understand what the game is trying to tell you. Because your trembling hand finds the strange mark on your stomach through your clothes, which starts to burn your skin with almost boiling heat. The lines stare mockingly at you, and you can almost feel how this devilish place laughs at you, as despair takes over you. You can't die by the same hand again, because if you do… you'll never get out. And that's enough to push your already worn-out body to the brink of fainting.
The first searing agony of a migraine-like pain rips into your head, because the hundreds of thoughts echoing in your mind strain uncomfortably against your skull. As if the world would start spinning with you, and you weakly let the damned book fall out of your hands. You unconsciously stumble over the traces of disorder lying on the floor, and drag yourself to the bathroom to freshen up a bit. There are too many new stimuli, everything is happening too fast, and you must not fall apart now. Because this new rule has put a rope around your neck, and it only takes one wrong move to strangle yourself. You can't let this happen.
You need all your strength, as Johnny so aptly remarked earlier. Because you feel in your bones, how the sour disappointment settles into them, that from now on everything will be much more difficult, and you'll have to overcome even more obstacles. Like rolling a large rock to the top of a mountain, which at a careless moment can bring you down with it. But you don't give up. You never give up.
In the small bathroom, you stagger to the sink and, still lost in your thoughts, you open the faucet, so as the frosty fingers caress your skin, the chaos raging in your brain begins to ease a little. Collecting a little water with your palms, you sprinkle your face, and as soon as the cold droplets bite into your skin like small needles, then despite the unpleasant feeling, you repeat your movement, as if this could be the solution to how to escape from the corner where the game is slowly driving you.
And although it doesn't completely remove the stress that is slowly turning into exhaustion from your limbs, the cold sobers you up just enough, that when you reach for the towel and bury your face in the soft cotton, the aching tension that settles on you dulls a bit. You need a plan. Because if that's true, then your hours are numbered. The masked killer can't kill you more than once, because that means you're stuck here. At best, you have two more chances to die with impunity, and then you're racing against time and the game's nefarious moves. But how do you stay alive in a horror game long enough? Anything can cause you to lose, and in light of new developments, you can no longer be sure that the same steps will raise death flags as they did until now. What will happen if you survive the night? The next day dawns, and? What's next? A completely unknown storyline will unfold in front of you and the chances of you surviving it are very small.
With a tired huff, you throw the towel back on its holder, and your mind is too busy with your racing doubts to notice in time that you’re not alone. You only break out of your thoughts when you return to the room and are greeted by someone, who appeared there like a ghost. Silently and uninvited.
You knew at first sight that Simon is not an ordinary character, and as he stands in the middle of a room bathed in the light of the setting sun, and the golden rays wrap his tall figure in a warm embrace, you realize that your intuition wasn't wrong. If you hadn't already seen enough horror hidden behind angelic faces thanks to Johnny, you'd let him lull your suspicions. But you see how menacingly the muscles are bulging under his sweater, and you can immediately imagine that those strong hands, which are now calmly lifting a bra from the hurried mess left behind, could snap your neck in an instant. You're not fooled by the nonchalance with which he raises the black-laced underwear in front of him, because you can see the merciless hunger in those dark eyes, that you encounter in his friend's as well. This man is as dangerous as anything else in this nightmare. And despite all the attractive features that peek out from under the black mask, you know that behind the beauty lies a bloodthirsty intention.
"I see you unpacked." He notes without any hint of unease, and his deep voice hits you completely unexpectedly. It's interwoven with a strong accent, which could even make the words that roll off his tongue deceptively attractive, and the pleasant hoarseness makes your stomach flutters in confusion. Not because you are naive enough to allow yourself to be seduced, but because he speaks to you with such an intimate tone that belies your very recent acquaintance. Although as the story stands, you’re not a stranger to him, but he very much is to you.
And at other times, maybe you wouldn't attach any importance to it, and you wouldn't mind him looking through your personal belongings, because nothing is yours. Not the clothes, not the shoes, not the shampoo, not the shower gel. Nothing. Only objects generated by the game, with no emotion attached to them. Now, however, as he stands there among the clothes scattered on the floor and slowly holds the bra to his face, and despite the mask, he inhales its scent with a deep breath, you feel an uncomfortable tension wash over you. Because he doesn't know that you've never worn that little black piece of clothing before, and probably never will, and that's what makes the situation so bizarre... The whole movement, as he closes his eyes and buries his nose in the fine material, creates something quite obscene, which makes the lump that you just managed to remove cling to your throat with renewed force. What the hell is he doing?
"I was just looking for something." You break the silent moment, hoping that whatever he's doing you'll disturb him enough with your little comment so that he finishes it. But as his eyelids open lazily and he glances down at you from under his blond eyelashes, you regret that you drew his attention to you. The darkness that settles in those brown eyes is unmistakable and makes goosebumps prickle instinctively through your body. Because his gaze makes you feel like he's flaying you alive with it, so that he can get to your desperately pounding heart by the shortest route. And you're pretty sure that he can clearly hear your pulse racing between your ribs, because there's no other way to explain why amused wrinkles gather around his eyes.
"Did you find it?" He continues to inquire unperturbed, throwing the underwear back on the ground. And when his gaze almost immediately falls on the book resting on the floor, the snow-white pages of which shine with bleak emptiness between the walls of the room that are slowly enveloped into semi-darkness, then you know that he didn't discover this little thing just now. Because he studies the barren pages as if he knew the secret it revealed to you.
"I think." You reply carefully, and you follow every change in his face with wary eyes, because at this point, every little twitch can be a sign for you. You need to get to know the new source of danger as soon as possible, because from here on there is no room for mistakes, unless you want to be trapped in this temporary hell forever. And you rather force yourself and defy the instinct of flight that awakens in your muscles, because you cannot run away.
But when he leaves his place and advances towards you with comfortable steps, you have to try with every fiber of your being to stay on your feet, because his slow walk may seem harmless to anyone, but you recognize the unspoken threat lurking in his movements.
"You know, I showed Johnny this house." He suddenly changes the subject, and it takes a few seconds for you to realize what he told you. And as the conversation that you have already listened to dozens of times at the dinner table pops up in your mind, shock appears on your face much sooner than your brain can prevent it. "At first he didn't see the potential in it, but he soon understood that we needed it." He explains, as though he just wants to reveal to you a long-cherished secret. And the meaning behind his words tightens your throat, as if his long fingers were already locked around your neck. And from the dryness that settles in your esophagus, it's like you're sending blades into your stomach with every swallow.
"It's a really nice place." You mumble weakly, because it becomes all too clear, as he stops a few narrow steps in front of you, how huge this man is. He looms menacingly over you, and as you raise your head, craning your neck at an uncomfortable angle, to direct your alarmed gaze at him, it becomes painfully obvious that you won't survive the new threat once it tracks you down. Terrible power flows from each sturdy muscle, and the little voice in the back of your mind immediately tells you that whatever he plans to do with you, you would have no chance of resisting. And this powerless feeling seems all too familiar, as if you've stood in the shadow of this horrifying force before.
"It will be." He agrees with your statement, and your heart skips a beat in fright, as one of his huge hands reaches to your face and gently caresses your skin damp from fear, as if he were afraid that you would be crushed by even a stray touch. And your consciousness drifting to the edge of blacking out is close to breaking... But you don't dare to lose sight of him. "Somethin' was missin' from it until now." He continues, and there is something sickly private about the way his thumb finds your quivering lips and strokes them with a feather-light touch. "But we have already found out what the mistake could’ve been." He adds, and his gaze sinks into yours with such a significant weight that you understand what he means without him saying it out loud. But the realization only causes even more chaos in your mind, because you don't like what he's trying to imply with it one bit. And no matter how much you try to calm yourself down by saying that only the story reveals the secret motivations of your attackers to you, but the doubt is restlessly scratching in your brain, which screams that this isn't what it's about... Because as his palm slowly travels to the nape of your neck and pulls you to his strong body without much resistance, as the thick arms wrap around you and the bitter smell of tobacco creeps into your nose with the vileness of a poison, then every part of you becomes paralyzed. A fictional character can't suggest that they've been waiting for you until now, right?
And as his free hand wanders to your waist and begins to draw small circles there with mocking tenderness, then the foreboding takes over you with an impossible force. Because there is nothing comforting in the way he buries his face in your hair, and the way the burning heat of his body crawls through the disgusting legs of a deadly disease into your cells icy with terror. And everyone else could think of this quiet moment as intimate, even romantic, but you know the dirty tricks of this fucking game better than that. You know a wolf hugged you to himself. And you just meekly let him decide when he sinks his teeth into you.
"Don't spoil the game because I don't want to punish you." He grumbles, and although his voice is barely louder than a whisper, your ears can hear the warning perfectly. And you don't like what he’s suggesting with his words. Because you know exactly what kind of pain he promises you if you spoil the fun. But… isn't that too early yet? Shouldn't he be playing the innocent character? After all, monsters only wake up with the appearance of night... "Now you've found your way home." He states simply, with a conviction that is impossible to ignore. And that one sentence is enough to make the air painfully stuck in your lungs, and a metallic taste escape on your tongue, as your teeth sink into the inside of your cheek, before a desperate scream can break out of your throat. Because now you are quite sure that Simon is not a simple character. He knows what's going on here. He knows you don't belong here. And when, with condescending kindness, he smooths a kiss on the trembling line of your lips through his mask, you already know that he has no intention of letting you get out of here.
"Dinner will be ready soon. Don't be late." He walks away as quickly as he appeared, and as he strolls out of the room, you're left alone with the suffocating pressure trapped between the cozy walls, which slowly drags your overburdened body under its weight.
What do you do now?
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— " (I'M) WAITING FOR THE SUN "
｡ ㅤꕤ ㅤ PAIRING: dazai osamu & reader.
SYNOPSIS: it was just a single string, so thin it could easily be cut with scissors, however, with just that mere red thread, it tied you to him.
tags ➜ alternate universe — modern, no abilities, painter!reader, writer!dazai dreams, pining, generally a fluff, soulmates trope, catching feelings, open ending, named reader — only last name though, dazai osamu is bad with feelings implication. ‹𝟹
⋆ author's notes: I wanted to try something new and the first thing that came in my mind was soulmates trope.
send an order!! → guide ❀ flowers ←
You have always been a dreamer.
Oftentimes you would drift away from your surroundings into an imaginary world, your sense of reality blurring away.
In that world you would feel relaxed, happy and at peace even if it's for merely a few minutes. A world where you could erase everyday from your mind and form an illusion of something you were unable to grasp, a world filled with colors and beauty.
It's bittersweet.
And although it's painful knowing these are nothing more but surreal fantasies, hopes and dreams it's worth it in the end.
However—as of late, your daydreams changed into a one singular daydream that, for whatever reason, keeps replaying in your mind like a broken record.
Day or night, in the painting room or in the peace of your room, whenever you close your eyes, be it a ten minute nap or eight hours of sleep the same scenario will play in front of your eyes over and over again.
Sun will shine its way through the grass as your fingers brush against your creamy white lace dress. Birds will sing their song to which you'll hum under your breath as the fruity smell of just bloomed flowers lingers in the air.
You'll sing and dance and laugh as if you're the only one in the world.
Then after a while you'll approach a big cherry tree in bloom, and suddenly you won't be alone anymore. There, in front of that very tree, will stand a person with chocolate colored brown hair carried by the wind, wearing a white button up shirt along with black trousers.
They'll look in the distance, seemingly unfazed and each time and even after twenty times you've seen the ending, you would approach them slowly when—as if on cue the person will turn around and you would freeze up at your spot, your heart skipping a beat because in front of you will stand the most beautiful human you have ever encountered. For a moment, they'll lock eyes before they vanish into the air, leaving no trace behind.
Then you'll twitch, snapping back to reality.
bleary and cloudy, immense hues of darkness lay hold of your sight, then as the starch gradually settles to the bottom and the skim rises to the top, at last your eyes wearily open—unable to remember his face.
It's as if when their eyes lock everything fades and your brain stops. It's weird and the more times it happens the more annoying it gets.
The person in your dreams feels familiar yet so out of reach. Like you've known them your entire life but hasn't even met them yet, as if the two of you were tied by a red thread of fate.
His presence is strong. Unique. Strange.
You can remember the way the smell of carnations surrounded him, the way his chocolate colored brown hair rode on the breeze, the way they were so tall you almost felt embarrassed standing near him but you can't, for the love of god, remember their face.
You feel their stare on your face. You know that your eyes lock each time and that each time they do your heart skips a beat. You know it and yet you can't pinpoint even the most obvious things, like their color.
You want to know more and everytime that you feel like you're getting closer to discovering something, you would get pulled out of the state of unconsciousness, snapping you back into reality.
It was as if it was mocking you, laughing at the anger it was giving you.
Your eyebrows knitted together, hands balling into a fist.
You ha—
The sound of wood splitting in half brought you back into reality, disrupting the scrambles of thoughts beginning to form within your mind.
huh ?
You lift your head, met with the sight of your paintbrush splitted into two. The other half of the paintbrush falls, accompanied with the sound of thud.
Your lips, which were previously formed into a thin line, parted.
"nazoki, did you just break your brush?"
you tense up. you feel everyone's eyes shift to your frame, hushed whispers accompanied with snickers filling the room. sweat builds up on your hands as the giggles continued, and you bit down on your lip, hovering your gaze on your thighs.
"It can be easily fixed but remember, that's not your own and you need to learn how to be careful with the brushes."
meekly, you dipped your head in response.
"yes ma'am..."
❀
It was already late when you arrived back home.
The sun had gone down, and the skies embraced by hues of warm colors had turned into vast of blackness already.
You didn't change out of your clothes, with the fatigue beginning to overtake your body, you didn't bother to do so.
You gently unlocked the door to your room and slipped inside.
you were greeted with pure abyss, which was anticipated since it was already night. however, there was still some disinctive things within the shadows, like the books sheltered on the shelves, the roses in the vase on the nightstand, and the paintings in the corner of your room.
you perk up.
you moved, walking towards to the empty canvas at the corner of your room.
In front of you, you laid down an empty white canvas and some newly bought paint from few days ago. without a second thought you started painting. You didn't know what you were going for just yet but you settled on just letting your hand move freely across the canvas.
One stroke then another—you paint sky, petals and a silhouette.
So far it's turning pretty decent but the more you draw the more anxious you became. The brush in your hand starts shaking as you reached out to paint the silhouette's face.
...
What now?
Cold sweat runs down your face and you had to take a moment to snap back to reality. Suddenly your stomach fills with dread and you had to take a break from painting.
The face. You couldn't remember the face.
You didn't finish the painting that day.
❀
There is no need for you to open your eyes because when you came to your own senses, feeling grass beneath your palms as the sun beams directly in your face, you knew exactly where you were.
Despite going to sleep in a bad mood you can't help but feel strangely relaxed now that you're here.
Slowly opening your eyes, you sit up and took a look around. Nothing, as far as you're aware, has changed. It's still the same dreamy place you visit everyday (sometimes even multiple times).
Birds are still singing, the sun is still shining and the flowers are still blooming.
After a short walk you find out the unknown person is also still here, simply staring at the distance.
You freeze in place and simply admires them from afar, staring at their back profile.
They stand there unbothered.
You take a big risk of walking up to them—not too close but not as far in an attempt to get a better view. Nothing.
You're scared.
Then you get a crazy idea.
Now you're terrified.
Quickly, before you get a chance to make a cowardly decision and back up, you ran towards the person and grabs their wrist, not giving them enough time to turn around.
First thing that you felt is warmth. Their skin is warm.
You lift your head head and meets their face that is now painted with a shocked expression, lips parted. When your eyes meet you felt fear, surprise, shock, happiness, anxiety all at once because you've finally caught them.
Then all emotions swirling within your chest dulls and the person slips away, disappearing from your grip once again.
❀
First thing, you did when you woke up is rush towards the canvas and frantically attempts to copy down the face, that expression of surprise and alarm, as similar as possible before eventually it too leaves your mind.
However it doesn't turn out anything like you've seen just a few moments prior. The expression on its own looks pretty amazing and the face is really unique, not quite like anything you've drawn before, but it's not his.
Shit.
Why? why couldn't you do it?
You were so close and yet—
You slipped up.
You didn't get it.
You needed to remember.
You didn't know why.
All you knew is that this person drives you crazy.
❀
Surrounding you, there was variety of pages of papers, canvas, multiple art supplies.
You pull out canvas after canvas messing up, repainting, scrapping, breaking, trying again, over and over again but nothing feels right.
Before long, what little memory of the person's face is left in your memory vanishes leaving you with an uneasy feeling in your chest. You fall to your knees, gripping the paintbrush in your palm firmly, cursing yourself. Why? Why couldn't you remember?
It continues like this for a while. After every nap you would pull out your sketchbook, which has by now found its new place under your pillow, and try to sketch the face but each and every time you'd be met with another failed attempt.
It felt like a curse of some sort. Wanting to remember but not being able to. Wanting to know but not being able to meet. Wanting to understand but not being able to learn.
You've tried many different ways. You tried jumping him. You tried running into him. You tried approaching him slowly. Sometimes you'd lock eyes with him, sometimes he'd disappear the moment they establish physical contact. You'd sketch day and night but you just couldn't nail it.
Slowly but noticeably a pile of crumpled up paper in your trash can started increasing. So far you've ruined three canvases and wasted almost an entire sketchbook which gave her an confrontation from your roommate, both from the trash and the one canvas you borrowed from her.
"If you need canvas, please just buy one for yourself. I'm gonna get scolded by my mother."
"the trash can in your room is starting to overflow with trash... some of the trash are even on the floor already, please dispose of them if you can. I don't know what you're trying to do but you should give it a little break, it doesn't seem like you're getting anywhere either way."
you've apologized multiple times for it, but in spite of her intentions being different, the painful truth behind her words pierces through your heart like an arrow. You weren't not getting anywhere that much is right but she's trying.
you were trying so hard because for the first time in a while you had a goal set in mind.
That night you didn't bother the guy. Instead, you sat down leaning on that big tree watching him stand just a few meters ahead of you.
You haven't given up of course but god you were tired. you sigh, releasing the tension in your body, closing your eyes beneath the tree's shadow.
You didn't know what you expected but someone snapping you out of your thoughts you sitting next to you was not it.
For a moment, you were too scared to look aside because this is a rare opportunity and you couldn't mess this up and yet at the same time you could wake up at any moment so if you were to waste this it would eat you up from inside for days. Anxiously, you moved your head and catches sight of the brown haired individual's side profile. It's the sight so dazzling you suck in your breath and bites your lip and just stares.
Every time you visit, you noticed a small detail you haven't before. Like how they shift from one leg to the other when the cold breeze brushes against their concealed arms, you wondered if it was really that cold for him, or how messy his hair was, you could've presumed he didn't take care of himself.
Today, you notice his eyes are shimmering brown, bright and full of life, no . they weren't full of life, they were filled with pure abyss, barely reflecting any source of tiny sparks. He was tired, lonely, and empty. You wondered how long they spent in this realm. Does he have a home? What's his story and how did he end up here? Just now after you take a good look at them, you started questioning all those things. Up until now all you knew was that they were here each time you fell asleep and that your face gets red and your heart skips a beat whenever you get near.
For the first time that you stared at them for more than two seconds, you started noticing all the little details. His bone structure, every single lash on his eye, even how messy his hair was. You take a mental note of it and stares for so long that you didn't even realize he might've feel awkward until they cough and move their face to the side, hiding their face a little bit further with the locks of his hair.
"I'm sorry."
You speak up slowly.
You wonder if he was even real.
"I didn't mean to make you uncomfortable."
Silence. Heavy, uncomfortable, cold, suffocating silence.
He gives her a side eye but don't say a word. You, not knowing how to react, just stares. You stare back, drowning in their eyes, not even realizing how close they've gotten to each other.
You have drawn many portraits of many different people up until this point in your life. The beauty of it all is that every person is different, unique and beautiful in their own way. Each painting you did is special because it's not like any other. That's, in your opinion, the beauty of this world. Even now, this person that might be nothing more than a fragment of your wild imagination is unlike any other you've met.
They are so beautiful it made you sick. Not just their physical appearance but their aura and their company. The way when their hands touch it sends an electric shock through your body or the way you get all warm and fuzzy inside when you were near him.
you swallowed down a thick saliva, forcing yourself to speak again, you didn't know what you were gonna say but with the tense atmosphere between the two of you, you wanted to ease it up, thus allowing the words in your throat to carry out.
"Hey."
The boy shifts his gaze towards you upon your call, moving his head along his gaze. You feel the hue of light red beginning to adorn your cheeks as soon he turns his head to your direction.
You fidgeted with your fingers, "You're a very pretty person."
You could feel his stare on you, but he didn't utter a single word.
"When I say pretty, I don't mean it just at that... you're so pretty that I could be with you all day just to watch the cherry blossom tree's bright pink light glow on your skin and how it brings out a million subtle sparks of color in your eyes, and In the evening, I could draw you all night long until I have no more strength, and when it's finally night with the moon, I could close my eyes to remember the day going by as a reflection of you."
as you spoke, you couldn't help but notice how close your faces were with just a few centimeters apart from each other. you two were so close, It distilled a warm fuzzy feeling within your chest.
"you're quite talkative."
for once within several dreams, he finally uttered a single word, and just the mere sound of his voice made you speechless. he leans his head slightly closer and you couldn't help but think that your faces will crash. you were sure your faces will crash and you're scared if they do the universe as we know will explode but the world collapses before you could get a chance to blink and suddenly you were panting in the pitch dark of an all too familiar room.
❀
They say everything comes with its good and bad sides so you presumed the same must go for this entire situation too.
If it were up to you, you'd say the good thing is you finally finished your painting. After so much time and effort you have finally created something you're satisfied with.
Bad, or rather unfortunate, thing is that the next time you went to sleep you didn't dream at all. At first you thought it was a mistake so you pulled her blanket over your frame and went to sleep again despite the morning sun desperately trying to climb on your bed through the closed windows and your roommate gently knocking on your door.
Nothing.
After a few more times of not being able to wake up in that imaginary world of yours, you started to freak out a little. It was understandable though. When you spend so much time somewhere, so much that it turns into a habit, it's only natural to get worried when it abruptly stops with no sign whatsoever.
For now you'll just have to learn to adjust to your new reality.
❀
It has been a year since you last dreamed of that dream.
you struggled to accept the truth, occasionally glancing at the painting you've finished right after your last dream. however, as time passed by, you managed to divert your attention to much more important things, slowly forgetting the world you would often dream off.
you didn't know whether you liked it or not but you supposed it was fine since a lot of great opportunities were beginning to appear to you.
"That's why nazoki-san, we would love to invite you as a guest artist for our next gallery showcase!" Words were ringing in your ears like an echo. There were thousands and one emotion flowing through her body. Excitement, joy, disbelief, anxiety and so much more.
Finally, It's finally happening. You couldn't help but think to yourself. All that hard work and effort is finally paying off.
When you got a call from a nearby gallery asking for someone with your last name, you presumed it was for your mother, a professional artist who had few of her works showcased there, that's why the first thing you felt when they said it's you they needed was confusion.
You've been drawing for years, joined many different art courses and took many drawing classes, participated in many events but getting an offer to have some of your work showcased in a big, professional and well-known gallery for one of their events was something new—a step closer to achieving your dream.
Of course, you didn't hesitate and swiftly agreed to the offer.
It's only when it came time to choose your best work you got a tad uncertain about which paintings to pick.
You decided to go for one landscape drawing, one abstract and one portrait.
Choosing a landscape and abstract was easy, you simply chose your most recent work, a work which, by chance, was seen by her classmates and some teachers and received tons of compliments.
Choosing a portrait was a bit harder though—there was just so much diversity between your models you'd feel bad choosing one out of many other, just as beautiful, ones.
You dig through the canvases in an attempt to find a perfect one when your hands suddenly brush against the beige fabric pulled over one of the canvases, hiding it from view.
A drop of cold sweat rolls down your neck as you uncover the familiar painting. It's still the same as you left it a year ago.
When your dreams stopped you felt as if you lost a part of yourself. Being unable to face the painting you worked so hard on, you ended up covering it up and leaving it to collect dust in the pile of canvases.
Even now when you looked at it, a part of you feels like sinking but the feeling of dread is easily outshined with the feeling of nostalgia and warmth.
you decided which portrait to bring to the event.
❀
More people have visited the event than you had originally planned, it was almost a bit overwhelming. Almost. All the praise you got made up for it.
You would be lying if you said you didn't like to be praised. You loved the words of affirmation, to hear someone from a higher level acknowledge her efforts and make sure you're on the right track.
You were silently lurking in the crowd the entire day, starting conversations when you'd get the chance, giving speeches about her art.
You talked and talked, over and over again, repeating what you've already said over twenty times by now and every group so far would listen carefully. Seeing them genuinely interested in your work made it all worthwhile.
Soon enough, night fell and people started leaving one by one, saying their goodbyes. It's a shame that the day has come to an end but if you're lucky maybe you will get more chances like this in the near future.
"nazoki-san!" One of the gallerys workers approaches you, "Would you mind picking up your work? I still have some guests to see off."
"Alright! Thank you so much again!" You bow down your head before you make your way to the hall where your work has been showcased up until now. It was a part of their agreement that when the event is over you'll get to bring your paintings back home.
When you step foot into the room, however, you find you weren't not alone. Almost like a deja-vu, in front of her stands a familiar brown haired person with their back turned towards you, in his hand, he held a book, it seemed like he was looking for some inspiration.
Your heart sinks.
Immediately, you stop in your tracks.
How?
Blood in your veins freezes as the cold sweat starts dripping down your face. It can't be…could it?
"E-excuse me-e—" you tried to speak up but your voice breaks in the most embarrassing way possible.
The person twitches in surprise, turning around with a startled expression on their face and it's the same damn expression you saw that day when you first grabbed their hand. you swear it is. It has to.
The person points an index finger to himself, tilting his head to the side, "Me?" as soon as you heard that voice, you knew damn well it was.
For a short moment their eyes lock. It's the same chocolate colored eyes holding the same lonesome warmth and oh you want to rush towards them at full speed and tackle them to the ground but youi calm yourself down and continues to talk, "We're closing."
Your voice comes off stronger and steadier this time but the hint of nervousness can still be distinguished.
"Oh… I'm sorry. I got lost in my thoughts."
So much happened today. You talked a lot, you walked a lot and on top of that you woke up early with only three hours of sleep the night prior, perhaps you're just imagining things. Maybe you're daydreaming again. But his voice sounds so real and you can see them so vividly even with you vision blurry from exhaustion.
There is so much you wanted to know, how, why, what, when, huh?? you heard stories about people's dreams coming true, about how some met people in their dreams but you never imagined anything so…extraordinary happening to you. But here you were with so many questions lingering in your head and so little time so you decided fuck it no matter what happens this time, no matter what kind of story your faith is writing, whatever happens in this timeline you weren't letting them go again.
The chocolate haired person gives you a warm smile, although, It looked a bit forced, you didn't say anything as he turns back to glance at the painting in front of them one last time.
"I was just thinking about how this painting looks a lot like me."
Your knees buckle up underneath you.
Weak .
you felt weak.
but you couldn't even focus on that, all you could focus on was how the person you've been longing for was indeed right in front of you.
and with that, the interlude halts.
₍⑅ᐢ..ᐢ₎ taglists are open everytime.
2024 © reposts are prohibited with/without permission... plagiarism is prohibited. don’t translate my work without my permission. i will take measures of reporting you. reblogs and likes are appreciated.
#♱ 𝗟𝗔𝗜𝗩𝗔𝗜 ::#★ works .ᐟ#dazai x reader#beastzai x reader#beast dazai x reader#dazai osamu x reader#bsd x reader#osamu dazai x reader#dazai x you#dazai x y/n
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