#ther is no part of my body that is not in pain
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My bones may be broken, but my spirit is not
#inspriationalquotes#broken bones#this is about my kung fu training#i am in pain#i mean it literally#ther is no part of my body that is not in pain#i got my ass beat bruh#someone took a video#pls delete me
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꧁༺ 𝐵𝒾𝓇𝓉𝒽 𝒪𝒻 𝒜 𝑀𝒾𝓇𝒶𝒸𝓁𝑒 ༻꧂
Astarion didn’t think this pregnancy would last, that the gods would laugh at his face once more while stripping him of his child. However the wiggling infant in his arms confirms that the gods showed him mercy for once in his life.
Pregnancy - Birth - Angst - Fluff
(Click For Part 1)
A cry escaped your lips when the pain became too much, leaning on the wall for support. Astarion wasn’t too far from you, never was ever since he found out you were caring something precious within you. He was fast on his feet bursting through the twin doors in Elven Tavern; he took in your appearance and notices the sweat that glistens on your body, your damp hair clinging to your face, “What is it!? What’s wrong?!”
Astarion’s face was full of apprehension, he only ever expected the worst to happen with either you or the child. He didn’t think this pregnancy would last and that the gods would laugh at his face once more while stripping him of his child. He had heard rumors about vampires being able to get others pregnant but most would wind up as miscarriages… or worse, the death of the mother.
“Astarion! I-its happening, the bab-” another pained scream erupts from you as you hold below your swollen belly. Your eyes wander over to where your water had broken, no blood evident. The sheer dread in Astarion slowly dissipates and instead is replaced with a fangy grin as he sees the puddle on the floor.
High spirits only last so long with Astarion though, his doubts always end up consuming him, “Are you sure?…” it was still so hard for him to believe that this world would show him some sort of mercy or happiness. “H-how do you know…” his voice was quiet, “that it’s not already dead inside you…?” Head hanging while his vermilion eyes stared at your stomach.
You can only nod with a soft smile, “it would seem not every god or goddess loathes you, Astarion… Your child- our child, is ready.”
‘’If you’re sure I’ll find Shadowhe-’’
You grabbed Astarions cotton shirt with a steel grip, stopping him from leaving. “Ther-“ you hold back another scream, “ngh-! There’s no time, you’ll have to do-“ You couldn’t contain it, your cries interrupted you, Astarion holding onto you as panic filled his face. He never thought he could get more pale, but he’s sure if he could see himself he’d be as white as the snow in Icewind Dale.
“No! no! No! Absolutely not! You want my help?! What are you thinking!? I only know how to stick a child inside you, not the other way around!?’’
The way his voice always gets so high pitched when irritable was something you always found amusing. Had you not been in so much agony you probably would’ve had some sort of retort.
Instead you twist your body in his grip to grab hold the sides of his face, “You can do this, you’re so much stronger than you give yourself credit for. Look at everything you’ve overcome.”
Astarion clicked his tongue, “I’ve only made it this far because I’ve had you at my side.”
“Then it’s a good thing I’m the one carrying your child and at your side now,” removing your hands from his face you grabbed his hand, “we can do this.”
Wasting no more time, Astarion rolled up his sleeves and ripped your dress before helping you onto the bed. His hands were shaking as he helped you on the bed, the veins and muscles in his arms slightly protruding as he grabbed your legs from under you to move you closer to the bed's edge. Nervous was an understatement, he was the one who was going to deliver his own child, what if he uses too much strength- “Astarion,” you broke his thoughts, nodding to him, reassuring him it’s okay.
Bending forward, Astarion gazes at your stomach speaking to his unborn child, “you pick now of all times to want out… really?”
Your legs were propped up and spread as you took a sharp breath through the contractions. He looked at you and kissed the inside of your thigh, praying for the first time in years that the gods would make sure it all goes smoothly.
You never heard how the doors to your shared inn opened up to reveal the rest of your companions. Never heard how your baby cried out as Gale shoved a finger in its face trying to be playful, or how Astarion yelled at him, “Gods! Why do you always have to ruin a good moment, Gale!”
“Awh look at the little guy, little Astary!” Karlach was so happy for you both that she couldn’t contain her tears of joy, “H-how’s” wiping away her tears, “how’s mama bear doing?”
Astarion took a seat on the bed next to you, cradling his son best he could as the infant tries to grab the string on his ruffled shirt. “Exhausted. I’m not sure if you noticed, but if you look around to see the mess we made we had to deliver our son on our own since someone wasn’t around.” He looks to shadowheart.
“It looks like my skills weren’t needed,” she smiles at the vampire, “good job, Astarion.”
Halsin spoke out for you knowing full well that they should let you get some sleep, “We should all take our leave for a while, or at least give the new parents some space. This is a precious time, a joyous one for them both.” His large arms stretch out to guide the party away from you both.
Astarion’s grip on his son tightens as he carefully maneuvers down next to you. His smile never falters while placing yours and his son between you both, his arm wrapping around the two of you pulling you both into him. It never crossed his mind until now, but he never needed to ascend, never needed that type of power because he’s realized that you are what gives him strength. You and his son are what will keep him strong enough be your shield.
#bg3#baldurs gate 3#baldurs gate#astarion#astarion acunin#astarion bg3#astarion x tav#astarion x reader#bg3 x reader#tav#astarion x you
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mystified
part 2
summary: after sudden attacks on women around town, you take a self defense class. ellie, your long standing crush is the instructor
part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4
each chapter will have their own warnings please read them! eventual smut
cw: mentions of child abuse and implication of attempted sexual assault (does not go into detail for either), panic attack
fluff and angst
light rocking against your shoulder and a distant call of your name pulls you from your deep slumber making you groan, not conscious enough to take in where you are. “hey sleepyhead, wake up.” ellie’s raspy whisper has you cracking one eye open. you’re too tired to even speak or think coherently, making you hum in question.
ellie chuckles and looks at you for a moment before speaking. “sorry to wake you up so early.. I gotta be at the construction site in an hour.” you blink away your remnants of sleep and realize ellie has damp hair, is fully dressed for the day and the sun isn’t even up yet. “it’s okay. sorry I fell asleep here I didn’t even realize.” she smiles softly, “no worries, I don’t mind. you looked pretty comfy..I can drive you home on my way to work.”
the short drive to your house shares a peaceful, comfortable silence between you and ellie. the sky painting a breathtaking winter sunrise of pinks and purple. ellie pulls up to your house way too quickly for your liking, the small disappointment of having to part ways felt in your chest.
“thanks for the ride and letting me crash at your place.. I had fun last night.”
“me too,” she smiles and you feel that warmth settle deep in your stomach again. it’s a rarity to see her full smile “it’s no problem, really.. are you busy tonight?”
“no, I don’t think I have anything going on.” you know you don’t actually have anything going on. you bite the inside of your cheek to try to suppress a smile, but ellie looks between your eyes and down at your mouth and smirks at you. caught.
“well, if you’re not busy later you wanna hang out? I get off at 3, we can go to a cafe or something.” she clears her throat and you can see how physically painful this is for her. she forces herself to keep eye contact though.
you giggle and she narrows her eyes at you playfully, unspoken words and body language received between the both of you. “yeah, I’m down. just text me when you get off.”
“alright cool I can pick you up. see you later, ___.”
me: DINA wake the fuck up!!!!!
dina🤍: bitch its literally 7am why tf are u disturbing me
me: wow. anyway! last night I was walking to ur house and some creepy dude pulls up next to me asking me for directions and shit acting super sketchy. ellie pulls up out of nowhere and goes all psycho ellie mode and pulls out a fucking switchblade. I was like 😦 but it was also so hot. he skids off and she gets pics of his plates and we go back to her place for joel to deal with it. he thinks the cops can keep an eye out for that car and see if that guy has anything to do with the assaults happening. it was lowkey really scary but I’m okay. we ended up smoking and talking for hours and it was literally perfect and then we ended up falling asleep and I woke up in the middle of the night laying ON HER CHEST with her arm around me. we’re hanging out again tonight
dina🤍: wtf that’s so fucking scary! im glad ur okay:( but ommg im so excited for u angel. its ab damn time some moves are made and we can go on double dates tg hehe
me: ok let’s not get ahead of ourselves here we’ll see what happens. that’s all I wanted to tell u. ur allowed to go back to sleep now:)
dina🤍: wow how gracious of u. lmk how everything goes though <33
clothes are strewn all over your bed and floor, while you frantically try to find a cute outfit to wear. it’s fine, it’s just ellie. she’s seen you a million times since you were both 14. you finally settle on a pair of jeans and a black sweater, with your chelsea doc martens. good enough.
ellie🌿🗡️: Hey, I’m outside whenever you’re ready.
me: be right there!
okay, just breathe. everything’s fine!
as you hop into the passenger seat, ellie looks you up and down. “you look good.” you give her a shy smile and observe her; hair tied half up, in a dark green flannel with an oversized black denim jacket, black jeans with her usual pair of converse, multiple rings on her long fingers, and the scent of her woodsy cologne. “thanks, you don’t look too bad yourself.” she smiles and shakes her head, pulling out of your driveway.
“yeah, he almost dropped a whole fucking plank of wood on my head today!”
you start laughing, walking out of the coffee shop together. “maybe the hit would’ve done you good, ellie. you are very hard headed.” ellie’s jaw drops “wow, someone’s feisty today, huh?” you smile and roll your eyes, going to shove her and she catches your wrist, pulling you close to her. your breath hitches and you look down at her lips. something behind you catches ellie’s attention, her smile dropping instantly and face turning ghostly pale.
“ellie? what’s wrong?” she grabs your hand and walks you quickly to the car, opening your door to make sure you get in first before frantically hopping into her seat and speeding out of the parking lot.
“hey, what’s going on?” she shakes her head and doesn’t respond, her chest rising and falling at a rapid rate, eyebrows scrunched together.
the speed of her driving and her concerning behavior is stressing you the fuck out. she pulls up to her house and lets you both in before she runs up the stairs to the bathroom, whipping the door shut with a loud slam.
you slowly walk up the stairs, not knowing whether or not to give her privacy. you suddenly hear her crying and hyperventilating. “ellie, I’m coming in.”
ellie is seated on the floor next to the tub with her head between her legs, forearms laid on her knees. “hey, hey I’m here. can I touch you?” she nods and you gently take her hand, softly rubbing the back of her palm while you place her other hand against your chest. “try to follow my breathing, okay?” you take slow, deep breaths for her to follow until she calms down.
“I’m sorry.” she avoids looking at you. “no, I’m here for you, okay? you don’t have to hide from me.” she wipes the rest of her tears from her eyes and nods. you move to sit next to her and gently rub her back, still holding her hand.
“do you wanna talk about it?” she clears her throat and looks straight ahead. “I uh… saw one of my old foster parents. he was pretty fucked up,” she lets out a dry laugh. “thought I was over it but I didn’t expect to see him.”
“what did he do?” she looks at you in contemplation before looking away with a cold, steely gaze. she sniffs and nods, “he… used to beat the shit out of me all the time for no reason.” she looks down at her scarred tattoo and rubs the skin. “this burn… he tried to-“ she clenches her jaw and shakes her head. “anyway, I managed to get away before he did anything, but I ended up burning my arm on the stove in the midst of it all. tried to press charges but that didn’t work, big shocker,” she scoffs. “I ran away and refused to go back so they placed me with joel and he eventually adopted me.”
she looks back up at you, trying to gauge what you’re thinking. you don’t realize you’re crying until she wipes away a tear from your cheek. “hey, don’t cry it was a long time ago I was just… not prepared for all of that.”
“sorry, I just hate that you had to go through all of that, especially at such a young age.” she lets out a deep breath and nods. “sorry our date got ruined” she gives you a sad smile.
“it wasn’t,” you squeeze her hand “I had a good time and I’m just glad I was able to be here with you.” you look up in thought, “do you have brownie mix?” she looks at you in confusion and lets out a small laugh “uh, I dunno, why?” “whenever I’m sad or going through something, I like to bake because it gives me something to do to take my mind off of everything and brownies are fucking good.” you nod with conviction. ellie laughs, “you are so fucking cute. c’mon let’s go see if I have some brownie mix.”
as you mix the chocolatey batter, and hum to the song playing on the speaker, ellie leans against the counter and watches you. she loves the domesticity and warmth you surround her with, and you were right, doing all of this is making her feel better.
“are you just gonna stand there and stare at me or are you gonna help?” “nah I think I’m good right here” she smirks at you. you nod slowly and look at her with mischief, holding up the spoon. her eyes widen and she points her finger at you, “don’t you fucking dare.”
you chase ellie around the kitchen island, out of breath from laughing and she ends up slipping on her sock, grabbing onto the counter for balance. as you run up to her and try to smear the batter on her face, she grabs your arm. you struggle against her, making you trip over her leg and she catches you, wrapping her arms around your waist. both of your laughters fade into small smiles as both of your eyes trails to each other’s lips. ellie’s face becomes serious as she leans in, lips ghosting yours. the sound of the front door opening has you both abruptly backing away from each other. fucking joel.
“hey kiddo, what are y’all up to?” ellie’s face is beet red and she clears her throat, “just making some brownies. why are you home?” ellie’s voice holds a bit of an edge to it.
“well, damn, I’ll get outta your hair in a minute, just stoppin’ by, forgot to pack my dinner.” she hums in annoyance. your eyes widen at the tension ellie is radiating.
“joel! my parents wanted me to give this to you as a thanks for the free self defense lesson, and for helping me out yesterday.” you open up your bag and take out a bottle of whiskey. ellie’s brows furrow, oops you forgot to tell her.
joel holds the bottle at a downward angle “would’ya look at that.. I’ll be sure to send my thanks to them.” he walks to the fridge and grabs out a container. “alright I’m headin’ out,” he looks at ellie “do me a favor, don’t burn the house down.” she groans and rolls her eyes.
“mm, these brownies are fucking good. you were right after all.” you scoff and smack her arm, “of course I was right. don’t ever doubt me again.” ellie rolls her eyes, “yes ma’am,” she quips sarcastically. “now, pay attention, this is my favorite part of the movie,” you say with feigned sternness. she smiles and nods, finishing off her brownie and leans back into her pillows.
you rest your head on her shoulder and place your hand on her stomach, tracing small patterns. you look up at her and whisper, “ellie?”
“hm?”
“do you really feel okay now?”
she turns her head to the side to look at you, face only inches away, and nods slowly. you feel her breath ghosting your lips and your heart starts racing, chest rising up and down quickly. ellie parts her mouth and licks her lips, leaning in, kissing you softly. she pulls away to look at you, before sitting up and grabbing your face, deepening the kiss.
HA sorry to edge u all. things are gonna get spicy as fuck in the next chapter. interactions are much appreciated 💗
taglist: @me-and-your-husband @fireflyels
#emmysfics#ellie williams#ellie williams x reader#ellie tlou#ellie tlou2#ellie the last of us#ellie williams the last of us#ellie williams tlou#ellie williams fanfic#tlou ellie#ellie williams angst#ellie williams fanfiction#ellie williams fic#ellie williams fluff#ellie williams x f!reader#ellie williams x you#ellie williams x female reader
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do u have general kink hcs for aged up!karma akabane? :’> he’d be such a kinky bastard and i’m such a brat so i’m just over here like 👀
A FUN DISCOVERY
“Karma's Kinks...”
pairing: aged up!karma akabane x reader
words: 0.9k
genre/s: mature, MINORS DNI!
warning/s: swearing, kinks, sex, mentions of dick, no pronouns (unless i slipped)
synopsis: karma's kinks... plus you
masterlist
a/n: answering this before any of the other asks in my inbox right now is unfair (because i just got this the other day), but when i read karma akabane and kinks; something awoken in me. hope you're happy with this because i don't delve with anything sexual and this my first attempt (we ignore the deku's and shoto's headcanon; i wrote that sht when i was a dumbass).
karma akabane is one sadistic hot bastard and so i'm very sure that's a big part in his sexual desires. i also think this guy has a good amount of common kinks, but also has these specific wants during sex.
kinks i'm sure that he'd have:
bare backing (having anal or vaginal sex without a condom)
cum marking (letting a man's semen visibly dry on your skin or keeping a man's semen inside of you via plugs)
the feeling of him raw inside of you just makes it better for him. would he cum inside though? no because he'd rather see his cum sprayed all over you; on your face, on your stomach, on your back, on your ass... anywhere on you. just the image of it makes him all hard again.
begging kink (begging and pleading to have sex, for release/orgasm, to perform an act, etc.)
controlling orgasm (different from orgasm denial/delay because in this your partner gives you all the reasons to cum, but when you are close, they ask you to hold it which can get quite exciting if properly executed and done)
orgasm denial/delay aka edging (type of play where someone's orgasm is denied entirely, limited/ruined or delayed)
are you guys seeing my vision yet?
he loves it when you beg him to cum already. he loves to tease you and making you suffer relentlessly especially when it comes to you finally getting that sweet sweet release. when you tell him that you're about to finish, he suddenly stops all together and waits for a few seconds as you whine loudly to him.
karma loves hearing that whine come out of your mouth and that moan you make after he takes his entire dick out and pounds it back into your hole.
sadism (the kink for providing pain)
an obvious kink of his, but there's layers to it.
bitting (the act of bitting or nipping the skink whether it is to break skin or leave marks) or leaving marks in general
choking
degrader (like to degrade and humiliate their partner either by acting upon them in a degrading way or by forcing them to do things they consider degrading)
face slapping
rigger (likes to restrain their partners, either by physical item [cuffs, ropes, etc.] or instruction [known as mental bondage]. restraint can be full-body, or involve a single body part. bondage may include furnitures and devices)
spanking
he loves leaving marks on you, any kind of marking whether it'd be bites or a shit ton of hickeys. choking you while degrading you is one of his favorite things to do. also slapping your face, especially when you're giving him a blow job. your face turning red from the multiple slaps he'd given you. it makes it look like you're flustered. he also loves spanking your ass since every time he does, you'd make a moan.
but here's some next level sadism (in my opinion):
electric play (playing with electricity and tame shocks well above the lethal level)
wax play (playing with molten hot wax)
he definitely tried other types of plays, but these two are the ones he likes the most. he likes using electricity on your nipples because he loves to watch you bite your lip in pain and let out an airy moan once you get used to the pleasurable pain (he likes watching your nipples slowly perk up as well).
some times when he pounds you from behind, he'd hold a candle above your back and let the wax fall and land there. every time you fell a hot wax drip on your back, you'd arch your back further down and let out a cry of pain that then turns into pleasure.
loud moaning
being dominant
brat tamer
he likes being in control and touching you and making you scream which is why i think he wouldn't like voyeurism because he'd rather do you himself than watch.
public sex
here me out...
he loves to tease you right?
the biggest tease is him fucking you in public. works especially well if you work in the same building/company as him. the thrill of being in a public place where anyone could catch him pounding himself into you. you trying your best to scold him by saying "karma, we're in public!" but ultimately gets shut up by his mouth and/or dick.
that type of excitement; he just can't get enough of it.
and then a kink that i'm not sure he'd have, but it'd be pretty fitting if he did:
crying ("i love to see you cry")
i think that once you start crying either from begging or from something else, he'd fuck you like there's no tomorrow.
crying would be his ultimate turn on (and i'd be fucking terrified).
the first time you cried is when karma tried hot wax on you for the first time (only because you weren't a masochist yet) (yet because karma made you into a masochist).
he watched the wax melt off of the candle and drop onto your exposed back. you cried in pain as your reflexes took over and you flipped yourself onto your back. you stared at karma with tears threatening to fall out of your eyes.
"what the fuck was that?" you asked with a shaky breath as a tear rolled down your cheek.
karma blinked owlishly. then, in a quick second, he hooked his arms under your legs and slammed your back against the wall. his hands flat against the wall, pushing you against it as much as he can. he slammed his dick back inside you and pounded in devilish speed (you cried a bit more, which just fueled him a lot).
let's just say it lasted until the next morning.
masterlist
a/n: i'm very shocked with how this turned out. i actually quite like what i wrote here.
#reader#s/o#s/o headcanons#x reader#s/o tag#assassination classroom#ansatsu kyoushitsu#karma#karma akabane#karma x reader#karma akabane x reader#karma akabane smut#assclass#headcanons#hcs#reader insert#karma akabane headcanons#karma akabane hcs#akabane karma
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This is how I feel Zero would met player HAHHA, they werent prepared to face an adult human per se XD.
Au belongs to @asamary!
I am going to rant a bit about it under the cut.
He uses they/he pronouns
He is slightly smaller than catnap
So Zero was just in a intership for a short period before he found the truth and wanted to out it but they got him and turn him into a toy! When he found the truth he met the prototype but his fascination of gadgets and mechanism was stronger than feeling fear XD
He can produce energy via his emotions and on his own will if he is in good shape, he met the critters soon after, he was in charge of the time for movies or shows and story telling. His knowledge in mechanism made him be able to have more dinamic storytelling using tricks with lights and such.
Zero then loses their temper electrocuting a scientist not on purpose trying to stop them for taking more kids, in wich the scientist take notice and take him to the labs in wich he got experimented more and amplifying his production of electricity.
He then kept being experimented while being plugged to the facility providing electricity to a portion of it. He became a living generator.
The prototype then offered them to be part of the hour of joy by the promise of revenge and freedom and no more pain, he accepted and shut the facility down from electricity and closed the doors from many places trapping everyone inside.
Now this is where the the au and canon takes different paths
Since in canon Zero gets deceived by the Prototype and was kept as a generator for the prototype (basically he will still be used as a generator by the prototype) the prototype would carve a mouth in the shape of a smile on Zero so he can feed. Zero dislikes him after being betrayed.
In the au since the prototype just killed the scientists and the bad people, Zero is very loyal to the prototype and helps them finding the more bad people by hacking security cameras or websites, but he stays in the town most of the time.
In the au Zero lives in the basement of the aparment the critters live in (if they are in a building and not just a singular house lmao) He produces the energy of a portion of the city, if he doesnt their electricity would go hirewire, he just plugs himself at night and acumulates the electricity in the generators.
If there is a storm and ther ei s apower outage he can easily feed the building, you just need to wake him up and tell him about it.
Zero has 6 minicritters of themselfves in wich some are patrolling and some are around him, they are like security cameras in a way
They go around fixing a lot of stuff around town specially electronics,
He likes to create gadgets, toys or artwork from metal, thats why he would go to the dupmster zone to search for parts and bring them home, they find admiration how the prototype can dissamble an object to create another so he looks up to the prototype like a teacher.
He is usually in the background doing mundane fixes there and there, because he was isolated and the only contact was when they experimented on him, he gets veyr anxious around adult humans but with time you can see he is just a silly guy who adores affection he just doesnt know how to handle it yet.
I like to think they are the guy whom people go when something gets broken or need assitance with.
I really couldnt stop thinkning about the au, its 2 am but I probs forgot things.
If ya dont mind I shall keep doing lil comics about this au with my oc in it qwq
Now just a wip of a future ref I am making
Some fun facts:
He dislikes being touched in the back
The Prototype helped zero gain a mouth and get unplugged from the cables since it was a tedious and careful task.
The minicriters have different shapes (i forgot to put the x body marks on the square anthena minicrtitter :()
Simple shape on anthena= complex shape on body and vice versa.
He can speak human language very soflty but it feels off for him specially if he talks for to long it starts to hurt. (He normally talks in gibberish like puppycat from the show :D)
The stronger the emotion the more energy he can produce
If there are tvs plug on them or he touches them, he can comunicate with those using memories and replicating the voice from that memory (is like doing a collage of different voices and images in a tv) he can also project their dreams on tvs
He is very light
The scarf/coat is attached to them like part of their body.
They are protective of their friends he isnt very strong but will fight for them
He gets sometimes ghost pains in their back, the scale of pain depends of the day
ANYWAYS thats it me thinks I shall make lil comics about all the facts and other stuff other times qwq
If u read everything, thank you and hello! Hope u have a good day :D
Also sorry about the grammar and writting english is not first language and its 2 am HAHAHA
They have a hard time hidding how they really feel because the color their anthena, eyes and stars may change by how he feels
He tries to always stay calm and with right composure but he is actually very emotional, he just had learn how to manage the emotions
#poppy playtime#poppy playtime au#poppy playtime sweet home au#poppy playtime player#oc Zero Signal#smiling critters oc#probably forgot stuff but oh well#I can already see mistakes but im tired#my art#poppy playtime oc#sweet home au
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The Boy & The Witch _ Part 2
[Human!Alastor x Witch!Reader]
Part 1 — Part 2 (here)
The boy, now named Alastor, came often to your little home in the forest. His attitude could be described as excited, eager, and twisted. You’d say that it was near your level and perhaps over as time goes by. You weren’t wrong
Alastor was more adapt in learning darker arts. While you can heal, Alastor shows no talent in such. Though as if to make up for it, he was extremely talented in shadows. A form of magic you have trouble with due to your abilities in the purer magic. Soon, his shadow came to life with glowing eyes and a crescent moon as its smile
You told him that he needs to control his shadow as it started doing it own thing when it came to life. It was harmless to you, but if anyone were to find out, there’d be hell to pay. It took a while but Alastor and his shadow got used to each other. When dealing with sentile beings, it takes time, you told him while he mediated, if he wants more control, he must be of sound mind and body first
Once, you were in town again, gathering on some supplies to stock up and saw Alastor. You were going to greet him, but you saw a women step into the frame. You figured it was his mother, but you were conflicted, his smile was genuine, familiar to how happy you saw him when he was learning and mastering the darker arts of voodoo magic
Thinking back, he never mentioned his mother to you, only his father that he loathed and seeked revenge on. The conclusion you came to was that he was doing it for his mother too, the mistreatment included her
You left, reminding yourself to talk with Alastor the next time he visited
“You know you can’t go to Heaven now that you meddle in voodoo magic, right?” You leaned against the door frame of your little experiment room, your arms crossed over your chest while you looked at the back of Alastor’s form. You noticed his shadow’s smile turned to a frown and shivered, but Alastor reminded focus on his task
“What brought this along?” Alastor questioned as he grind down some animal bones accounting to one of your many books
“The other day, I saw you with your mother I presume. She’s a nice lady that will go to Heaven and you’re damned for Hell.” You continued
“You’ll be there with me, right?”
“Well, of course, I’m the one that brought you into this, so naturally. I think my family and relatives made some sort of clan down there. They living the life ther.” You chuckled, “And Hell is supposed to be a punishment too.”
“If you’ll be in Hell as well, I can live without my mother there, she belongs in Heaven. I’ll treasure my time here now while I’m alive.” Alastor spoke softly
Your eyes narrowed, a small frown on your face, you turned to leave but not before saying, “Then you shouldn’t be there with me. Go back home, boy.”
Like Alastor was listening to you, he didn’t come back the next day, or the day after. For a while, your home was void of the apprentice you took in and given the name of Alastor to. You’ll admit that you felt lonely and thought if you were being too cruel to him
You waited for a week longer to see if there was any change in Alastor’s visit to the forest. Oddly enough, there was no sighting of him. Why you say that because when he was younger, he’d play disappearance for a few days to catch your attention. You found him hiding within the tree branches when you went to look for him
But now it was a teenager, nearly adult. Some can say you two grow up together, you’re not shy to admit that he has grown to be quite the lady’s killer. He has gonna popular in school and town. Getting a nice internship at the radio station to prepare him for his future career
You knew that under his perfect front, how painful and cruel his life behind closed doors was. Not to mention his cruelty and heinous thoughts he habour to those that do him wrong. So you left your home when the sun was about to set to where Alastor’s home was. You peeked inside from one of the uncovered windows. It was all quiet. Too quiet
Securing your cloak and the deep hood over head, you went to the back door. Using your own shorted staff, you tapped the lock and unlocked the door as it opened on its own and closed when you entered into the house
You wandered around, coming to a stop when you passed the living room with a body laid on the carpet and another on the couch. You cautiously stepped forward, checking the mother to see if she was breathing, when she was, despite the blood from her head. You turned to the man, father of Alastor’s due to the resemblance, and checked his breathing. He was sleeping
Kneeling down, you hovered your hand over the mother’s injured head and healed her a bit. Then you turned your attention to the staircase and slowly made your way up. When you made it up, you scanned the doors that were all opened, except one. You stood before it, trying the handle first, locked. You did the same thing to the back door and unlocked it with ease
The door creeked with a whine, you eyes pierced into the room, bathed in the light from the setting sun. You noticed the motionless body on the bed and made your way over. You sat on the edge of the head, facing away from Alastor. “You know, your mother’s in a dying state. But I healed her enough to get through the night.”
Alastor merely flinched, enough of a sign to show you he was awake and listening
“I wonder though, still you let this father, this man, to rule over your life any longer. You’re not the only one suffering.” You spoke
You sat there playing with your shortened staff when you left Alastor get up and left the room. You waited for a while before you followed suit and went down. You weren’t surprised to see Alastor standing over the now dead body of his father and the blood staff in his hands
With a snap of your fingers, the living room was in a worst wreck. You walked over to Alastor, pausing to let him lean over you. “Don’t worry, this would be like your family was attacked by armed robbers. You’re going to sleep for a while and your neighbours will find out then alert the police. I honoured your revenge, now let me handle the aftermath.”
As if your words were what he needed, his eyes closed shut and his full weight crashed into yours. You carefully kneeled down to set him on the floor. Making sure he was just sleeping. You eyed his shadow and pushed the staff to it so that it was hidden when the neighbours and officers come
You stood on the branch of a nearby tree, its leaves hiding you while you watched concerned and nosy individuals crowd around Alastor’s house. The police set up the perimeter and medical officers brought Alastor and his mother’s unconscious bodies to the hospital
“Glad it wasn’t the young boy or the mother that’s killed.”
“Yeah, would have been unjust.”
“Now they can live peacefully.”
“That’s good.”
So the father wasn’t well-liked already. You thought to yourself, your staff elongated to its original form. You tapped the end of it to the tree branch. All the better. You stared down as the deceased body was brought out. Makes for an easier target. I have to ask my family to catch his soul.
Note: Long overdue part 2. Since things have slowed down, I'm working on the requests meant for longer writing. The ones where I can rant or is just a short answers will be posted quicker~
Circe Y.
Other Works: MASTERLIST
Taglist:
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@crowleysthings
@donustellaron@mistpurpl3
#alastor imagine#alastor x reader#alastor x y/n#alastor x you#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel alastor#alastor headcanons#hazbin hotel fanfiction#alastor#hazbin hotel oneshots#Circe's Nighty Writings#Circe's requested writings#human alastor#The Boy & The Witch
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(post in question) @elegysonnet
Thank you! None of my ideas are really solid yet.. but I can explain the reasoning behind their designs and tell you a bit of the back stories that I've got so far! :}} (prepare for a WALL of text-YOU ASKED FOR IT--)
First, Jevil. I pictured my Jevil being locked away in a cell for many many years. Like I think canon Jevil was. The wear and tear you see on his clothes is just wear that developed overtime from being in that cell. I might update his old outfit later.. but so far the torn gloves, missing bell and worn shoe are from the years of being locked away. Now eventually he is able to break out of his cell and escape into the multiverse. I'm not sure how, but thinking its gonna have to do with mirrors. He probably wanted to go back to his AU, but if he did he'd just wind up right back in that cell. So he.. left. And just kind'a roams the multiverse now, looking for a new home I guess.
Now during his travels he was able to find bits of clothing to replace/repair his old outfit. Replacing his shirt, finding a new cape, cutting out a corner to patch his new shirt- Finding a cheap Christmas bell to replace his old one. Using standard bandages to patch his shoe- cutting a square out of the overalls to fit his tail and patch his torn hat- <XDD stuff like that.
Now turning to Grillby.. My Grillby's AU was suddenly destroyed. And Jevil saved him from being destroyed along with it. But Grillby isn't exactly grateful.. rather he's overcome with grief over the loss of his world and family, and is actually angry with Jevil for having saved him. He would have rather just been extinguished along side his wife and daughter..
Because of this emotional turmoil, Grillby tuned blue and stayed blue. (See this post for my Grillby color headcanons-) I drew him in his bartender outfit but that wont stick. He ends up wearing what ever trash clothes he can find. His uniform is the last existing thing from his AU. And he dare not let his emotional instability burn it up. So he keeps it folded up neatly in his backpack and just tosses the backpack aside when he gets upset enough to start burning things uncontrollably..
Now for the creepy one, Spamton! He comes from an AU where things function a bit differently then our usual Deltarune. One of the big differences is the acid in the queens castle is blue instead of green. And yes! I did go with the acid lake theory :00-- but instead shrinking when falling into the acid.. my Spamton just kind'a.. fell apart. Its like the structural integrity of his body just collapsed. He kind'a got Gastered- The outer layer of his face and hands got so dry that huge splits formed all over his face and knuckles. His teeth got stuck together and became one big glob of hard mass. His hair melted together, his pants and shirt became part of him.. Its pretty yucky. He was in so much pain and he didn't know what to do.. Well, that's when Jevil showed up.
I'm thinking that taking Spamton outside of his AU didn't eliminate his pain.. rather.. being away from his world effected his body and.. changed his pain. Changed how it hurts or where it hurts. In a way, Spamton is in "less pain" when he's outside of his AU, because the pain is different and more.. tolerable..? Somewhat.?? So he chose to leave his AU and stay with Jevil. Its not like he was leaving anything behind.. the people in his AU treated him horribly. As they traveled, they got a cloak and some goggles/glasses for him. Spamton also struggled with motor function in his hands. like Gaster.. So Jevil wrapped them in bandages to keep them together and help them move more coherently.
Also Grillby kind'a envy's Spamton for having an AU to freely return to. And thinks that despite the pain and struggles, he should return. He still has the opportunity to make a life for himself there. But you cant really blame Spamton for following the only person who has ever shown him kindness and changed his blinding pain into something else..
Then there's Goner kid. I'm thinking that she is from an AU where she fell into the core perhaps? But she's not a part of Gaster. She doesn't have anything that ties herself to him. She's just, out there. All alone..
Jevil finds her and feels sorry for her.. so he helps her to get back to her AU. Only to discover that another version of her already exists and took her place. In order to bring her back to her world, you would have to destroy her other self.. But her other self is a person too.. someone who can love, who can think, its a person. Jevil wont kill her and Goner kid doesn't want him too. But she's still heart broken.
Her entire identity was stolen. She has nothing left to her name.. not ever her name. Its not hers anymore. So to cheer her up Jevil gives her a new name. One completely unique to her. Goner kid smiles, and decides to follow Jevil where ever he goes. She cant have her old life or name back, but she can live a new life, with her new name and new best friend. (I might reveal that name in a future comic👀👀)
Eventually during their travels they come across an AU where Alphys made robot arms for Monster Kid. Now MK is like a teenager in this AU so he doesn't need the other arm models that Alphys built for him. So she simply gives a pair of little arms to Goner kid! The pink bow was also a gift from Jevil so there's that XD-
Now River person.. I haven't really been able to flesh her out too much actually. But I'm thinking that River person is in a similar situation to Goner kid and Grillby. She cant go back to her AU for some reason and is heart broken. Maybe it was destroyed like Grillby's was? I imagine that she's not mad at Jevil for saving her though. And I don't think she'd be grieving her life like Grillby is. More of.. she's grieving for.. everyone else's life?? She would take people on trips down the river and hear about their life and stories. Their hopes and dreams.. Hear about what the children wanted to be when they grew up. Only to have all that snuffed out. Gone. Yet she remains? Why her? She feels that compared to the others from her world.. She was simple. Was of less value then those that she spoke to. She feels like someone, anyone should have been saved in her place. Maybe survivors guilt would be a good way to put it?
But she's not angry with Jevil for saving her. Just.. hollow. Conflicted.. appreciative..? But still conflicted-
ANYWAYS, wall of text over XDD I hope you enjoyed reading all of that and I answered all of your burning questions. :}} Feel free to send more!
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What's Eight Plus Seven?
Part One🦇Part Two🦇Part Three🦇Part Four🦇Part Five
"Did you ask about my sandwich?" is the first thing Robin asks him when he falls through her window. Only after the question has been asked does Robin turn on the lamp beside her bed.
"Ow," he replies, because he's landed on her shoes. One is digging into the center of his back and the other his buttcheek.
"I'll take that as a no," she swings her legs off the side of the bed, sitting up to look down at him. "You know, with the amount of noise you just made, you might as well have used the front door."
"We both know your parent's know I'm here, anyway. The use of your window is to avoid conversation with your mom. She always asks if I'm planning to propose before you go to college, or after you graduate."
Robin gags. "Don't remind me. Now get off the floor and tell me when I'm to expect lunch delivered by Eddie to Family Video?"
Steve does haul himself off the floor, then, because the shoes are painful. He joins Robin on the bed, shoulder to shoulder, and leans against her. "Sorry. I forgot to ask about your sandwich."
"I forgive you. Now, to the secondary issue of the night. Show me your knuckles."
"What!?" Steve usually prides himself at being able to keep up with Robin and her random thoughts, but this is so out of left field.
Robin just grabs the hand closest to her for inspection. It doesn't take her long to drop it and reach across him to grab his other hand. "Hmm. No signs of physical damage. Did you smother him to death with a pillow instead?"
Ah. "Har har. No. There was no violence of any kind. There was some yelling, at first, and I got the last word in-" "the most important part of any argument." "-because I screamed fuck you and then ran to my room but then... then he looked so sad about it. I even tried to a pick a fight, twice!-" "Yes, yes, your self-destructive tendencies." "-but Eddie really seemed upset by it all, which, he should. If he hadn't been a dick then I wouldn't be holding a grudge. But..."
"But you were also a dick back the rest of high school, so maybe the hurts can like... even out and go away?"
"Well, we didn't word it like that but that was the, like, ending we came to, yeah. Dustin was right. He's a dick, but like, in the same way I am, I guess."
Robin leans away from him so she can sway her body back, bumping her shoulder against his. "So, to summarize...?"
Steve shrugs. "We talked it out, I told him about Christopher and like, glossed over my parents leaving me alone all the time but I think he picked up on it. Especially after I told him your theory about why I was so attached to a cousin I saw for three to four weeks once a year."
"Hey, don't do that. Don't downplay how you're feeling or smack talk your own emotions. Those are my jobs and I'll not have you leaving me unemployed. Now come on. Let's lay down, and you can be the little spoon, and tell me all about it."
"You just don't want to see my ugly cry face."
"I don't want to see your ugly cry face," Robin parrots back as she clicks off the lamp before they lay down and do exactly as promised. Steve retells the whole night in as much detail as he can remember and Robin does spoon him, patting at his head and giving his stomach a little squeeze every time his voice goes watery.
Eddie left Steve's house with his entire worldview shifted. He hasn't felt this rocked about events since learning monsters were real. And the thing that has rocked him the most isn't learning that Steve had essentially been abandoned by his parents when he was fourteen, or even learning about the tangled web inside Steve that consists of his love for fantasy, curiosity for DnD, and grief for the loss of his cousin.
No, what has rocked Eddie, what worldview has shifted, is his perception of himself and how he has been viewing the world. Him and his fucking Munson Doctrine.
It had served him well, back when he'd first learned the word 'doctrine' in sixth grade and made his own then and there. It let him draw clean and clear lines between what hurts and what doesn't, what keeps him safe and what didn't. Befriend the lost sheep, avoid the jocks. Flight was the superior fight or flight response.
And he had made changes over the years; as a rule, don't tell the cops shit about anything, ever. Make yourself the target to help the little guy (if you're the weirdest kid in school, the others might get overlooked). Slash the tires of everyone who dunks your head in a toilet.
Those kinds of changes.
Around junior year, Eddie started selling because they needed a second income. He'd put in application around town, first, but hadn't received a single call back. Hell, four the places he applied straight up told him they wouldn't hire him so he could quit checking in on his application. He knew Reefer Rick wouldn't turn him away. Not when Eddie could get to the high-schoolers Rick knew would pay too much for too little a hell of a lot easier than Rick could.
It came with the added bonus of bullying ending for him, when the same people who used to shove him around or knock things out of his hands ended up wanting to buy some drug or another, and instead of finding Reefer Rick waiting at the picnic table in the trees out of view, they found Eddie.
This added a new point to the doctrine: charge jocks double. He'd held to that until Chrissy, who had seemed so much more like one of his sheep than a jock.
And, well, everything after Chrissy should have ended the Munson Doctrine completely. Because he'd used it to put people in nice, little boxes that made sense in his mind and that was fucking blown to pieces.
Nancy Wheeler, badass gun-owner who he watched make a sawed-off shotgun? She'd in a box labeled 'Priss, Prim, and Proper' and wasn't that a fucking lie.
Robin Buckley, who he knew withstood Russian torture and willing walked into Hell to save the world? He hadn't ever even given her a second thought. She wasn't a jock, a nerd, or a customer, so she just didn't really exist. Which is so shitty of him to realize.
And Steve. Steve fucking Harrington, who ripped a goddamn giant bat demon apart with his bare hands after biting it and then spit the blood out like every horror movie fans wet dream? Like Eddie's wet dream. Well, he'd been a real dick most of high school. That was a fair box to place him in, at the time.
But because of that goddamned Munson Doctrine, he'd been a dick to Steve first. He'd ruined any chance at even being Steve's friend.
Or he had, before tonight.
It's a really fucking humbling thing, to have your own biases thrown in your face. Don't get him wrong, at first it absolutely made him livid. It hurt, and made him defensive, when Steve didn't just accept his apology. He'd instead shot back, something about him not being wrong about who Steve turned out to be and then Steve... Steve had said 'lashing out at me first, at my reading ability, and mocking me for not being quick at math' and Eddie had felt his stomach drop.
He hadn't remembered that day, not nearly as clearly as Steve did, but Steve's words had brought the moment back to him. He couldn't recall exactly what he'd said but he remembered the feeling of satisfaction at humiliating Steve some random jock that day. Satisfaction at flipping the script and getting to be the one who wasn't hurt. He'd laughed at Steve with the other people who had gathered to watch Steve struggle to do simple addition. He'd retold the story to everyone in Hellfire after school and they'd all cheered about it, told Eddie he was right to do what he'd done.
What he remembers even more, though, is coming home to Wayne and bragging about it. Thinking of the responses he got from his friends. But Wayne didn't congratulate him. Wayne had nodded softly along with the story and then said, 'you can't be the one to hit first, Edward. You throw one to many punches and soon enough yer knuckles don't feel the pain anymore.'
Eddie had puffed up, defended himself, yelled at his uncle for defending a jock and Wayne had interrupted him there.
"He mighta been the jock, but you were the bully."
That had hurt almost as much as every punch his father had ever thrown at him. And did Eddie even learn from it?
No. He doesn't think so.
Eddie had a shit life until his Uncle stepped in, stepped up, and showed him that love was unconditional.
And he's just spent the whole evening learning about Steve, and how the love of his parents had always been conditional. (And never in a way Steve could achieve. Not that Steve had said their love was conditional, but you don't abandon a kid you love at fourteen.)
Steve's every decision until the Upside Down had happened was based on what his parents would think or want. Trying to earn his dad's respect or some shit.
Steve's dad might not have hit him, but Eddie knows an unloving father.
Jesus, all this thinking makes Eddie want a cigarette. He drags himself off his bed and to the window, which he yanks open and leans half out to smoke because this is a new trailer and Wayne asked him to smoke outside when they moved into it.
He left Steve's house feeling like they could be friends, which is great. Way more than Eddie expected. It was just also... a lot to process. A lot to take in.
Jesus. He'd never expected Steve to really be willing to play 20 questions to get to know him, either; that he was willing to set his grudge aside and try, even with his anger at Eddie wrapped up in grief for Christopher. Eddie wouldn't have been able to do it.
Not with his Doctrine in the way.
He doesn't need to change everything about himself, but he definitely needs a deep dive into who he is verses who he wants to be, or has thought himself to be. Steve admitted to bettering himself and Eddie wants to be a person worthy of being around Steve.
And being honest with himself in the quiet of his room, Eddie wants be a person worthy of being with Steve.
He's allowed to be a little delusional about it all, he thinks.
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The Amateur | part 2 preview
sugardaddy!ceo!harry x burlesque!dancer!yn
New Patreon exclusive short series preview! Part 1 out now on Patreon! Part 2 to be posted January 2.
Series Summary: Y/n is a down-on-her-luck burlesque dancer sleeping in her car. Harry is a wealthy CEO looking for someone to spoil.
Preview Word Count: 2.3k
Part 1 Preview
Note: This has not been very proofread or edited - there may be some changes with the final version.
At nearly 7 pm she heard the door open and she heard Harry’s voice so she quickly went toward the foyer to see Harry entering. And Veronica.
Oh.
Y/n sheepishly waved and then looked toward the kitchen and back at the pair.
“Hey. Veronica needed to drop by to pick up something. Apparently, she left an earring here?” He said as he turned to look at the gorgeous vixen standing next to him.
She smirked and nodded as she looked Y/n up and down, “That’s right. Somehow I made it home with one of them but the other is missing. I’m assuming it was knocked out of my ear. That was kind of a wild night…” she laughed and Harry frowned as he looked at Y/n.
Pity.
Y/n tucked her lips into her mouth and nodded. She turned back to walk into the kitchen. She was feeling so dumb. So dumb for thinking she could do something nice for a man who didn’t want anything from her. So dumb for trying to make it up to him in any way when he simply didn’t care. He had Veronica, or his pick really. He was wealthy and handsome and he didn’t need Y/n. She was just a victim he felt pity for.
She took a deep breath and sat at the marble island on a stool. She wasn’t going to cry. But she felt an unease in her body about the situation that she hadn’t felt before. Yes, she was a bit jealous but it was more than that. She felt dumb. She felt like she’d gotten her hopes up somehow. She’d grown too attached.
Harry never did anything to indicate he was interested. Not once. He had only treated her with kindness and patience. How could she mistake it for anything but pity?
She jumped when she felt a large hand rubbing over her back. She looked up at Harry who was standing behind her, looking down at her with soft eyes.
Pity.
“Sorry. She wanted to come last week but I told her she needed to wait. I figured you’re feeling a bit better today. She’s been bugging me about this earring…”
Y/n waved him off, “It’s fine. No need to be sorry. It’s your house, Harry.”
And that was true. No matter the circumstances, Harry hadn’t done anything wrong. It was Y/n who’d let his kindness morph into some kind of deeper meaning. Something she let manifest physically in the bathroom during her bath when she let her fingers wander the day before. She’d been pent up. She needed a release and Harry was attractive and sweet and he’d smiled at her especially warmly that morning.
But now, she was feeling small. And stupid.
“Harry!” Veronica’s voice sang out.
Harry sighed and kept his hand on Y/n’s back as he leaned down next to her, “I’m gonna help her. She’ll be out of here soon. Okay?”
Y/n just smiled and shrugged. Didn’t matter. The moment Harry walked out of the kitchen Y/n went into her bedroom and closed the door behind her. She put her hands onto her face and as soon as she pressed her palms over her skin she winced at the pain. She wasn’t swollen but her face was still tender. She cursed under her breath as she walked toward the large window to look out.
She needed to get it together. Soon she’d be healed and need to move on. Harry would probably be thankful for it too. She was lost in her thoughts when there was a knock at the door, causing her to jump.
Yeah, that was another thing that sucked. She was too jumpy these days.
“You made dinner. Gonna come eat with me?” Harry said softly.
Y/n turned and looked at the man in the door. He was so handsome. She would just never get over the way he looked at her. Having his eyes on her warmed her up but she had to be realistic. It was just that he was so attractive with alluring eyes. It made it seem there was something there that wasn’t. She had to stop kidding herself.
She nodded with a half-smile and walked toward him. She was a little hungry.
They both sat down to eat, “Did she find her earring?”
Harry chewed his mouthful and kept his eyes on his plate, “No. She didn’t. I don’t know if it’s actually here or not.”
“So, do you have her over often?” Y/n inquired. She wanted the hard truth. She wanted to know that Harry was off limits because in her imaginary world, he was her knight in shining armor and she was growing more and more attached to him.
Harry sat up and took a sip of the wine (turns out the wine was expensive but Harry insisted on having it anyway) before turning to look at Y/n, “She’s been here before. A couple of times.”
Y/n nodded and looked back to her plate of pasta with a sour stomach suddenly. She sat her fork down and nodded. It wasn’t her place to get jealous or upset.
She listened as Harry scraped his plate, scooping up the last bit of pasta. It was quiet.
Too quiet.
Harry cleared his throat, “I mean… I haven’t seen her since that night you saw us together. So that’s like, a month ago? Well, except when I went to the club a couple of times she was there. But that was the last time she was here, a month ago.”
Y/n turned to look at Harry, “So she was here before that? Then why did she want your card with your number on it?”
Harry breathed a laugh out of his nose, “She didn’t have my number before. I didn’t really want her to have it.”
“But you brought her here. You just didn’t want her to call you?” Y/n couldn’t help the questions coming out. She wanted Harry to tell her they were fucking and how he was in love with Veronica. She needed confirmation that he felt only pity for Y/n.
Harry sighed, “Yes. I brought her here. But, look, it was nothing. Not really. Just a warm body. That sounds really shitty…” he shook his head and kept his eyes soft on hers.
Y/n smiled and nodded as she got up to clear their plates. She knew it. They’d been fucking. Of course. They were a perfect match. Veronica with mile-long legs and silky smooth hair, luscious lips, perfectly shaped brows… And Harry was… well, he was Harry. A complete masterpiece of a man.
“Y/n… I… what do you want to know? I mean… I’m an open book here. Are you… jealous?” Harry was closer to her than she wanted him to be in that moment. Directly behind her.
Y/n paused and set the plates in the sink, “You think I’m jealous? God, Harry…” The disdain in her voice was clear. She was sick of being pitied.
Harry’s hands were on her shoulders and nudging her to turn gently toward him, “I don’t know. Your questions sounded… maybe you’re just curious. I shouldn’t have said that. Of course, you’re not jealous. You even told me you have a boyfriend so you wouldn’t…”
Y/n laughed and shook her head, “A boyfriend? No. We just haven’t officially broken up but he’s back home posting Snapchat pictures with random girls and he hasn’t even bothered to find out where I am or if I’m okay. He doesn’t even know I’m in Las Vegas. So boyfriend? Nah…” she huffed and shook her head.
Harry nodded. She did tell him most of that when they spoke about Chad. Just not the part where they weren’t still really together. Harry had a feeling that was the case but he didn’t want to ask her outright and seem nosy.
“Okay,” Harry kept his eyes on Y/n’s, or at least he tried as she was dodging looking directly at him, “just…” he sighed and shook his head, “I don’t want you to think I’m still doing anything with her, though. That was a couple of times. I told you I get lonely. We talked about it a little.”
And they had. Y/n knew Harry wasn’t a virgin by a long shot. Of course, he was getting it regularly. But he did always mention how it was just a physical thing. But he never mentioned he was doing it with Veronica. Not that he needed to specify.
“I know, Harry. It’s okay,” Y/n finally looked up at him, “Really. You’re an… attractive man and you need to, well, you know,” she smiled and felt herself blush. Her saving grace was the bruising to hide the rush of blood to the apples of her cheeks.
“You think I’m attractive?” His mouth quirked up to one side as he tilted his head to the side.
“Well, yeah,” Y/n shrugged.
Harry released her shoulders and nodded, “Hmm… good to know.”
She watched him walk to the island and pick up both glasses of wine. He stepped back in front of the bruised girl and handed her the glass, “Cheers,” he held his glass out.
Y/n raised a brow as she lifted her glass to clink with Harry’s, “To what?”
Harry took a sip and shrugged and then smiled down at her, “To us. You’re doing well, and I’m happy that I have your company. It’s been really nice having you here. Haven’t been lonely since you’ve been here with me.”
Y/n took a sip and kept her eyes on the man but with a look of disbelief in her eyes. She wasn’t buying it.
“What?! You don’t believe me when I tell you this every single time, but I truly like your company. You’re funny and you’re nice, Y/n. I’ve liked you since I first met you. I got lucky to have such a perfect house guest.” He leaned his hip to the island across from where she stood and she mimicked his pose, leaning her hip to the marble at the sink and shook her head, “I don’t believe you because I think you’re just being nice. Like you felt you had to take me in or I’d be out on the street. Which I’m thankful for!”
Harry let out a frustrated sigh but kept a small smile on his face, “You’re insane. You think I’d let just anyone stay in my house with me because I was worried they’d be on the street? If you were Veronica she’d be out of luck. I’d never let her stay here. Maybe for a night or two but she doesn’t have a kind heart like you. She’d probably screw me over or something. I don’t actually trust her. You, I trust.”
Y/n furrowed her brow, “You don’t have to keep comparing me to her you know. I get it. She’s hot and you like to fuck her, and I’m nice and you like to talk to me.”
Harry cackled a belly laugh that instantly put a smile on Y/n’s face, as he put his hand behind him onto the countertop and looked up at the ceiling, “Jesus Christ, Y/n.”
“It’s the truth. She’s fuckable but not trustworthy. I’m disfigured, but nice and so therefore trustworthy,” Y/n laughed as she spoke.
Harry pushed himself off the counter, leaving his glass of cabernet on the island as he stepped forward to breach the space between himself and Y/n. He took her glass out of her hand, placing it on the counter behind her, and brought his hands up to cup her face with a frown, “Disfigured?” He shook his head.
Y/n kept her eyes on him. The mood had changed so suddenly she wasn’t quite sure she understood what he was doing, but his hands on her face were welcome and gentle and warm.
“Y/n… Even with these bruises, and scrapes,” he brushed his thumb over the purple skin on her cheek and down toward the edge of her lip, “you’re so beautiful. I mean…” he dropped his hands from her face and laughed, grasping her hands in his he kept his eyes on her face, “And that’s just your physical beauty. The rest of you… god. You’re more than just this, Y/n,” he said as he released her hands and slowly brushed his fingertips upward on the inside of her forearms, the most sensitive part of her skin, until he met the bend of her arm and wrapped his hands around the topmost part of her forearms.
She was shocked. She was starting to look somewhat normal again but she was still bruised and had splotches on her face and a body that was slow moving. There was no way she was more beautiful than Veronica. Sure maybe Y/n was nicer, but prettier? Certainly not beautiful like he said.
“You don’t believe me?” Harry scrunched his brows as he looked down at Y/n.
She swallowed and shook her head, “No. I don’t.”
Harry closed his eyes, his hands still holding her forearms as he pulled her arms to wrap around him and then brought his own arms around her and burrowed his face into the crook of her neck. The hug was perfect. Just tight enough to make a point, but still gentle enough that it didn’t hurt her body.
His warm breath cascaded over her neck and the tip of his nose pressed into her skin as he spoke, “Then I’ll keep telling you until you believe me. And…” he let out a heavy breath that had Y/n squeezing her eyes closed and feeling her heart pound in her chest, “I can show you even. If you want.”
A/N: This 3 part series will only be posted on Patreon. If you'd like more of this, I'd be so thankful to you for subscribing! xoxo
#harry styles smut#harry styles#patreon exclusive#ceo!harry#sugardaddy!harry#sugar daddy!harry#harry styles x reader#firstpost#harry styles fanfic#harry styles fic#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles writing#harry styles fiction#harry styles x yn#harry styles one shot#harry styles x y/n#harry#harry smut#harry x reader#harry x yn#harry styles angst#harry styles fluff#dancer!yn#harry styles concept#harry styles imagine#harry edward styles#harrystyles
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PANORAMA — SHUNTARO C.
sypnosis : after getting stabbed and succeeding in killing the king of spades, you think if chishiya made it out alive.
tags : ooc chishiya, idk how to write angst, very short AND HUGE AIB SPOILERS I GUESS BUT STILL, THER R AIB SPOILERS SOO READ AT UR OWN RISK, mentions of blood, guns(?), n bombs. tell me if missed anything.
note : this will probably have a part two idk it depends...... AND THIS IS MY FIRST CHISHIYA FIC SO EXPECT SOME OOC CHISHIYA..... [ frustrated groan ] also fem reader
everything was chaotic, and luckily, the three of you found an, kuina, aguni and also heiya. there were only two games left. two more games. you'll surely get back to the real world.
“ oh i almost forgot, my good luck charm! ” kuina said, getting something from her pocket.
it was a bomb that chishiya made. you remember him giving you one too.
chishiya.
and arisu came up with a plan, luring the king of spade and using it at a close range. and you liked the idea.
and with usagi, kuina, an, heiya, and aguni they'll be the bait.
“ i'm going…too. ” you said, frowning. usagi smiled.
“ we'll do this together! ” she says, with a confident smile.
you didn't know if arisu's plan succeeded, but you heard an explosion somewhere, so the plan went good, probably.
you couldn't focus, all you can feel was the overflowing pain, in your lower abdomen. yeah. the king of spades stabbed you.
and you couldn't move, the pain hurted like a bitch. you just wanted to end this. after all, it was just one game? is it?
many hours passed, it was getting dark, you were thinking about chishiya. is he alright? oh god. you hope that he makes it out alive.
and oh, you remember that time.
“ what if we get seperated by the time this game almost ends? ” you asked him.
he chuckled, “ i'm sure, we can recognize each other anywhere. ”
you giggled, “ we're one souls, in two bodies. are we? ”
he patted your head, “ yeah. we are. ”
a small memory popping up after the wind. a deep echo in your ear.
your warm tears starts falling on your cold cheeks, not even realizing.
like a shining star in a pitch darkness, we can recognize each other anywhere.
that radiant moment will bloom forever, like a PANORAMA.
“ chishiya. . . ” you stop.
the green hill, the campfire at night before participating in games, you miss those time with him.
so precious, and you'll cherish them all.
“ we're meant to be one, like the first moment we met, my heart beats fast. ”
you'll make a way out of here in borderlands with him. you're sure of it.
“ chishiya, i'll remember this forever, i promise. ”
don't let me down.
: @weronikasstuff , @surshica wanna tag u guys cause idk
#alice in borderland#chishiya x reader#chishiya shuntaro#chishiya shuntaro angst#chishiya shuntaro fluff#alice in borderland season 2#aib imagines#aib spoilers#chishiya x fem!reader#arisu ryohei#usagi yuzuha#kuina hikari#aib kuina#alice in borderland season 1#chishiya shuntaro x you#chishiya shuntaro imagine#works.
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Part I
A/N: So here's the second chapter of Bodyguard. I'm excited to see where this goes, bc honestly right now I don't have everything planned out, I'm just going with the flow. Let me know what you think :)
Y/N pushed her glasses further up on the bridge of her nose, sighing as she attempted to get more comfortable in the chair she'd deemed her work-from-home space. She was pouring through the files that had been sent from her office, signing off on some of the easier cases - shots, medicines, things of the like. She had secured a fill-in veterinary student - the very top of his class - to administer the injections while she healed.
Her fingers were tapping over the keys of the laptop, her eyes never leaving the screen. She was very aware of the presence on the sofa before her, cerulean eyes scanning over her as she worked. She glanced up over the top of her screen, meeting his eyes.
"You know you don't have to stare at me the whole time," Y/N spoke, deciding the silence had gone on long enough. "I don't think I'm going to disappear if you find something else to do."
John shook his head, his hands clasped over his stomach as he sat. "Just doing my job, Miss."
Y/N suppressed a shiver, distaste for the pleasantry. "Don't call me miss, it makes me feel old."
John cocked a brow at her. "You're not old."
"I know," she replied. "But the next thing I know you'll be trying to start with ma'am. Just call me Y/N. Or Bunny."
"Okay," John relented easily. "Just doing my job, Bunny."
Y/N smiled, happy with her win. "Thank you."
They sat in silence for most of the day, the distinct sound of keys being pressed filling the room. John had finally decided to turn something on the television, a more than welcome background noise for them both. He had turned on a soccer match, something that the veterinarian had no idea about, and was thoroughly absorbed.
A deep, irritated groan filled the room and Bunny's head shot up, not expecting the sound that barreled from him. He was sitting straight up, his eyes zeroed in on the screen. "Fuckin' muppet."
"What is it?" she asked, confused by the sudden change. She glanced over at the television, trying to figure out what had happened, but it was just a bunch of players crowded around, pushing and pulling at each other. "Did someone get hurt?"
John shook his head with a sigh. "No, just a stupid call."
"Wow, you're a dedicated fan, huh?" Bunny asks, her brow furrowed. "I didn't take you for a soccer guy."
"I'm not a fan of soccer," John almost glares at her, his eyes flashing. "It's football."
"Not in America," she bites back a laugh. "Maybe across the pond."
John sighs and mumbles. "Where everything makes a little more sense."
A little while later, after the game had finished, a loud grumble came from Y/N's stomach. Her eyes widened and she looked up at John, placing her hand over the offending noise. Her cheeks burned at just how loud it had been - she hadn't realized that she'd gone all day without so much as a bite of food.
"Hungry?" John's lips curled beneath his mustache.
Y/N nodded. "Let me just get a few more cases out of the way and then I'll eat."
"Not happening," John said, authority coloring his words. "I'm here to keep you safe, can't do that if you fall over from starvation."
Y/N rolled her eyes. "I won't starve from not eating for a few hours. I've gone longer than that at work."
"Not with me," John informs her. "Your aunt is trusting me with your care. I don't take that lightly."
"Fine," she grumbled. She saved her work and closed the screen on her laptop, placing the device on the table beside her. She braced herself for the task of getting out of her seat, dread coursing through her veins as she realized it wasn't going to be easy. Her body was aching and, although not completely broken, one of her ribs had been fractured.
"Damn it," she hissed through her teeth as she raised to her full height. Tears flooded her eyes but she blinked them back, the pain slowly subsiding as she stood there. "I swear I'm not a wuss."
"Never said you were," he said, his lips pressed into a tight line. "You okay now?"
"Yeah," she told him. "It just... takes me a minute."
Slowly, she made her way into the kitchen of her apartment. She rifled through her freezer, trying to find the easiest meal she could, and grinned when she found a frozen pizza stashed in the back. She pulled it out, carefully, so as not to upset her rib more. She busied herself preheating the oven and finding her pizza pan, but the more she stood and moved the more the nagging pain in her side intensified. She was all but huffing when John came to check on her.
"Damn it, woman," he tutted behind her, a gentle hand on her lower back trying to guide her back to the living room. "Go sit down, I can make a blood pizza."
Y/N turned her neck to glare at him. "I'm perfectly capable of making it."
"More than," he agreed, his gruff voice right in her ear. "But you need to sit down and rest. Get back to normal as quickly as possible, yeah?"
The woman frowned, knowing he was right, but not wanting to admit it. She felt a twinge of defiance toward him. "If I go sit am I still allowed to work?"
John's stare was blank and he was unamused. "No. You've done enough work today. Isn't your office closed by now, anyway?"
She glanced at the clock on the stove - it was five o'clock, and her office was indeed closed. She pursed her lips but said nothing.
"Go sit down," he all but commanded her. "I'll chuck the pizza in and bring you an icepack."
"Fine," she sighed, stopping by her medicine cabinet and grabbing a bottle of ibuprofen. "Just so you know, I don't like to lose an argument," she told him.
"Neither does Kate," he told her with a grin, "but she also knows when she's wrong. Now go sit."
If she was able she would've stomped her way back to the living room, but the pain prevented her from doing so. She decided to sit on the couch, which was better for watching TV than the chair, and grabbed a pillow, pressing it against her chest to help with the ache. It wasn't long before John came into the room, an icepack in hand. He held it out to her, almost as if it were a peace offering.
"Don't put it directly on your skin," he advised her softly. "Do you have something to take your meds with?"
She shook her head no, reaching out to take the icepack. "Thank you."
"Just-"
"doing your job," she finished for him, looking up at him from her seated spot on the sofa. "It's almost like I've heard that somewhere before..."
"Cheeky," John noted as he crossed his arms over his wide chest, a grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "I'll be back with the pizza."
A few minutes later he strolled into the room, two plates in hand. He had cut the pizza - for a military-trained man a little haphazardly - and threw two pieces on each of their plates. He sat hers onto her lap, making sure she had a hold on it before releasing his grip. "What would you like to drink?"
"A water is fine," she said quietly, a feeling of shame settled deep in her bones. She hated being coddled. John turned to retrieve their beverages when she spoke up. "Could you bring the ranch dressing, too?"
John stopped, his back stiff. He turned his neck to see her, a barely contained look of disgust on his face. "Ranch dressing?"
"You know what ranch is, I'm sure," she said, puzzled by his reaction to her request.
He nodded, turning to face her fully. "Of course I do," he said, "but eating it on pizza?"
Y/N tapped her finger on the side of her plate. "Uh, yeah? What about it?"
"It's a crime," he told her seriously. "A crime against food."
A laugh bubbled from her lips, pain exploding through her torso. She gasped and pressed the pillow tighter against her, "Ow, ow..."
John watched her silently, his hands coming out to steady her. "You alright?"
She nodded. "I'm okay."
"All this over some dressing," he mumbled, his hands still on her upper arms.
Y/N glanced up at him through her lashes, the pain slowly ebbing. "You have no idea what you're missing."
"Fuckin' Americans," he mumbled under his breath, but still loud enough for her to hear, and then straightened his back and disappeared into the kitchen. They ate in silence, watching reruns on the television as they shared their first meal together. John grimaced a bit when she dipped her pizza in the white dressing and took a large bite of it. She chewed it with the beginning of a smile, noticing him watching her eat.
"Don't judge me," she said around her bite of food. "It's so good."
John shook his head. "I'll take your word for it."
"Try it," she encouraged him, holding her plate out to him to dip his slice. "It'll change your life."
He pulled his plate away from her, protecting his food from hers. "I'm good, thanks."
"C'mon," she pressured. "One bite and I'll shut up."
He shook his head. "I've gone my whole life without having it, I think I'll pass."
"A life without ranch," she mused. "What a sad existence."
He shook his head and went back to watching the television as she continued to happily eat her ranch-covered pizza. Once they had finished and John had taken the plates to the sink they simply sat and relaxed. Y/N was curled against one side of the sofa while John sat on the opposite side, his legs spread wide. It was comfortable, Y/N realized, having someone here with her. She didn't think she'd warm up to him this quickly, but she saw what her aunt liked about the Captain.
"So how long have you known Aunt Kate?" Y/N asked suddenly, her curiosity taking over. "She's never really said a lot about you."
John looked over at her, studying her question. "A long time."
"Wow," she said sarcastically, "such an enlightening answer."
John sighed and looked to be thinking about whether he should tell her or not. "It's been over ten years, at least."
"Ten years," Y/N repeated. She was quiet for a beat and then asked, "So how old are you?"
"Old enough," he answered simply. "Why does it make any difference?"
"Because I want to know," she said, tampering down the urge to throw something at him. "Do you ever give a straight answer?"
John smirked and shrugged. "When the situation calls for it."
"That's really annoying," Y/N pointed out. "That's fine, I'll just guess, then. I like guessing games." She hummed as she thought, looking over him. He had flecks of gray at his temples, but his face gave nothing away. "I'm going to say that...you aren't forty yet?"
"That isn't a guess," he chuckled, "that's another question."
"Don't be like that," she groaned. "I'll tell you my age if you tell me yours."
"I already know your age," he told her simply. "Your aunt told me the basics before I came."
"Fine," she huffed, rolling her eyes at him. "Be boring."
John fought back a smile, but he softened under her agitated gaze. "I'm not yet forty."
Y/N gave him a blinding grin, her eyes crinkling. "See, now that wasn't so hard was it?"
An amused hum left him, and he shook his head. "No, but it's so fun to watch you get angry."
She opened her mouth to retort, but a shrill ring from her cellphone cut her off. She dug it out of her pocket as gently as she could and looked at the screen. "It's Aunt Kate."
Before answering the video call she straightened her hair and wiped her mouth, making sure she'd gotten all remnants of pizza off her face.
"Hey Kate," she greeted, fighting the urge to flinch as she saw the bruising on her face.
"Bunny," Kate replied, seated in her office. "How are you feeling?"
"I'm feeling better," Y/N smiled softly, touched by her aunt's concern. "I managed to squeeze in a little work today."
"Don't overdo it, you're supposed to be resting," Kate warned her seriously. "Is everything going okay with John?"
John eyed the phone at the mention of his name. "Everything's fine, Laswell."
"Good to hear," Kate replied. "I'm glad everything is going smoothly."
Y/N took a deep breath, not wanting to ask but needing an answer at the same time. "Have you found out anything about the men who attacked me?"
"Not yet," Kate told her. "Just give me time, Bunny. I will find them."
Y/N's heart beat rapidly, she felt it in every nerve in her body. She swallowed down her anxiety and gave her aunt a small, forced smile. "I know you will."
"I'll call you back when I get more news," Kate assured her. "Get some rest, okay?"
Y/N promised and disconnected the call. She stared at her phone, her mind racing - she had made a conscious effort not to think about the violence that had been inflicted on her just a day prior, trying to push it from her mind completely. She didn't want to live in fear, and while it hadn't been easy she'd managed.
Work and the man beside her had kept her thoughts busy, but now...
"What's going on in that head of yours, eh?" John asked her, genuinely curious. "You haven't been this quiet all evening."
She sighed, picking at her cuticles. "Just thinking."
"Vague answer," he replied.
She looked at him through the corner of her eye. "Like you have any room to talk."
"Touche," John smiled at her. "Really, what are you thinking?"
"I just hope we get them," she admitted quietly. "I don't like feeling vulnerable. Scared in my own home, scared to go to work."
"That's why I'm here," John said, his eyes softening. "I won't let them hurt you, not again."
#john price#call of duty#john price x reader#john price x laswell!reader#cod#kate laswell#bodyguard au
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The dragon, The Witch and the Window.
Part two
Part one here
Aemond tries to find a way to bring you back to him, but the red witch has other ideas.
"It is cold, my love, come away from the window." Aemond asked you, wrapping a thick blanket around your shoulders and guiding you away from the window. It had once been open fully, allowing all ellements to drift in and out.
"I don't mind it." You reply letting him lead you to the dressing table.
"We are leaving today, for your cousin's house. Will you please reconsider the carriage? Riding on Vaghar will be much faster." He pleaded with you yet again.
"Perhaps at DragonStone we could find you a new dragon? There are three wild ones living amongst theirs I believe."
"I don't want another dragon. I want my dragon. What happened Reagaran's body?"
Aemond had been dreading the moment you asked him this question.
"Vaghar took him. I don't know where." He knlet down beside you, "She bonded with him, I think in their own way ther were lovers." You watch him in the mirror.
"Why are we going to Dragonstone?" You ask.
"For you. You were always happiest there."
"For me? There is no me."
Aemond drops his head to your hand.
"Then perhaps we will find you there?"
You knew he was begging you. He begged everyday with his kind hands, and gentle voice. He brought gifts, your favourite flowers, soaps you'd always liked amongst them.
"I do not wish to fly." You say at last, standing from the table and moving toward the door. A maid placed a long heavy cloak over your shoulders. Aemond followed, slipping into his own heavy coat.
"Take my hand, my love."
Returning to your silence you placed your arm through his and followed him through the castle. Two guards walked behind you. They were always behind you. walking down the marbled stairs you stumbled, a jolt of pain in your side took your breath away. Aemond gripped you with both hands.
"What is it? Are you hurt?" He tried to study you for any signs of outward pain.
"I'm fine, walking still hurts." you hold onto him the rest of the way leaning into his side. He helps you into the carriage, sitting you on the sofest cushions he could muster.
"Aemond? A word?" His mother called to him. He left you reluctantly to the maids.
"What is it mother?"
"Don't go! Your sister will never let you leave." Alicent begged him.
"It is just for y/n to feel better. She needs her home." He tried to reasure her.
"No, Aemond, Daemon will kill you. How many times do I have to tell you? This entire marriage was always going to fail."
"Mother, enough. I will send a Raven when we have arrived safely." He gives her short nod of his head before climbing back into the carriage. The maids excuse themselves and leave for their horses.
The journey began. the journey went on. for three days it went on, The carriage you sat in was long, long enough that you had a small bed, a table of food and seating area to yourselves. The winter air whipped in through the gaps in the wood, so you kept yourself hidden below the blankets. At night Aemond would join you, pull you close to his body. Each time you hoped it would bring you warmth, yet, every time you continued to shiver.
"I wish I could warm you somehow." Your husband rubbed your cold fingers between his hands. "You need to dress, we will be arriving soon." The winter had come so quickly to Westeros, leaving no time to gather proper clothing. Your husband helped to place two pairs of your thickest stockings over your legs and helped you to pull the dress over your head.
"would you like me to help you?" You ask when he turns to add a second shirt to his outfit.
"I'm alright. Thank you." He fumbled with the buttons and ties on his clothes. You move to him, taking his hands and pushing them down to his side so you could fix his tunic.
"You're nervous." You whisper.
"Your cousin isn't my biggest fan, and I'm not particularly keen on being in the same room as the boy who cut out my eye." He tightens his jaw.
"You attacked the girls and called them names." You remind him. "You should be nervous. You will be lucky if my cousin doesn't behead you the moment he sees you." You look into his face, eyes cold.
"I'm sorry." He repeated the two words he said every day. Another pain hit you, this time higher, closer to your lungs and you doubled over with the pain, falling to Aemond's arms.
"What is it? The pains again? What can I do?" He asked quickly. He held you against him and moved to the chairs. The carriages rolled down to stop. "Can you stand?" He looked at you, his chest heavy.
Pushing your teeth together you nod and push yourself to stand, trying to ignore the pain. Both of you step out into the cold, stark light of shoreline castle. Your cousin Daemon and his wife Rhaenyra had walked down to greet you. Daemon marched forward pulling you out of Aemond's hands. You winced as his hold caused you more pain.
"Kill him." Daemon growled at his guards. You grabbed at his tunic.
"No. Cousin, no." You say turning back to your husband.
Aemond followed quietly behind the rest of you up the long steps to the castle. He stayed silent as they showed you both to your chambers. Said nothing as they settled you into the room. Three fireplaces had been lit and all windows sealed shut with heavy shutters.
Rhaenyra stepped close to him before leaving the room, "We are glad you are here brother." She smiled at him.
Days passed you by. Both of you had settled into the life of Dragonstone. One night alone by your fires Aemond admitted to you that he felt freer here than he ever had at Kingslanding. He told you one evening that he had forgiven Luce for taking his eye.
The two of you had fallen asleep on the soft bed in your chambers, a dull night outside with the turning of winter to spring. Pain pulled you from your sleep. A pain that felt as if your guts were attempting to rip out of your skin. Once stood a shiver ran from your toes to your head and no longer did you have control of yourself.
When Aemond woke, it was as if from a nightmare, though he hadn't been dreaming. He felt the lack of presence instantly. Panic set into him as he searched the room, the door was open. Aemond flew out of it, calling your name as he followed the dark corridors.
"what is it?" Jace flung open his door at the noise.
"I can't find y/n." Jace could see the fear in his uncle's face.
"How long has she been gone?" He asked.
"I don't know, we were asleep. Windows, what windows are open?" Aemond felt his mouth turning to cotton.
"Windows? Every room has at least three."
"We need to find her, Jace."
"I'll get the others-" Jace started, his sentence cut off by Aemond turning stiff, his eyes glazed white, all expression of emotion fell from his face. Aemond turned, walked stiffly through the halls. Jace followed him.
"Get my mother and Daemon." He ordered a guard as they passed him.
Aemond walked blindly into the grand hall, he ascended the winding stairs of the far tower. At the top a room void of any furniture stood with a window long and wide. You stood silently at the edge, a small metal barrier at your ankles. Aemond stopped a few paces behind you. Not close enough to touch you. Jace walked around him, followed your eyeline. Across the bridge on the cliff edge stood a woman clothed in red robes. The wind whipped the fabric around her.
Rhaenyra, Daemon, Luce and the girls came running in behind you all.
"What is this?" Rhaenyra demanded.
"Out there, there is a woman." Jace pointed to her.
Daemon growled low in his throat.
"She is a witch. I've seen her like before."
"What do we do?" Rhaenyra asked.
"We need to know what she wants." Daemon looked around.
"Aemond, she wants Aemond." Beala said. "Y/n told us, she got into the castle as a maid seduced him. Before she was cast out they forced moon tea into her."
You room a step closer to the edge, Jace grabbed your shoulders trying to hold you back. Whatever magic she held of you was too strong, he could not pull you away.
"What do we do?" Rhaenyra felt panic settling in her chest.
"Give her what she wants!" Daemon shoved Aemond's shoulder and he took a step forward. Rhaenyra grabbed her husband.
"Stop Daemon."
"I'll go out to her." Rhaena stated, "I'll find what she wants."
Jace went with her. Everyone watched as the pair walked to the gates. When you took another step Daemon demanded that rope be put up at the window. Four lengths of thick rope were tied across the window. Aemond had moved closer to your back as they worked. His hands had taken hold of your shoulders.
The screech of a dragon rang through the air and Sunfyre Darkened the moon for a moment before flying to the window. The Prince jumped from his mount and through the ropes.
"The witch has him. We have to get through to him." Aegon shouted, he placed one hand on Aemond's chest, "Brother, you must stop. Listen to me, Aemond. You're going to hurt her. You're going to hurt y/n."
Aemond blinked.
"Here me, Brother. Y/n will die!"
Aegon moved his hand to his brother's, slowly sliding it away from your shoulders. He walked Aemond backward away from the window.
"Hold him!" He yelled at Daemon before running to you. He glanced out at the witch, she was facing Rhaena and Jace. "Y/n, it's Aegon, you need to come away from the window. Please." Your body was still rigid, you barely swayed when he pushed you. "Please y/n."
He voice carried into Aemond's mind, echoing in his ears. One name, repeating. Y/n, y/n, y/n. Each time the voice drew closer until vision began to come back to him. The hand of his uncle pressed to his chest.
"Y/n." He choked out. Daemon looked round to him. "Don't let her jump, please." He clawed at Daemon's arms. "Please uncle." He pushed against him Daemon shoved the prince back against the wall. "Please, let me go! Uncle let me go to her." He tried to push against him again. Daemon looked at him, seeing that his eye was no longer clouded over.
The dark sky that had been clear of clouds now shifted. A new darkness rolled over, blocking out the stars. A crack of thunder shook the sky, the walls and their legs. A flash of flame burst into the room and Jace and Rhaena dropped to the ground beside Rhaenyra. Your body strained against the ropes as Aegon fought to hold you back.
"what's happening?" Luce called out.
"She wants me." Aemond dropped his head in defeat. "She'll kill you all."
"No, Aemond, you can't." Aegon shouted.
"I won't let y/n die. Let me go."
He pushed against Daemon once more, this time gaining traction and moving away. Aemond walked to the window and slid through the ropes. Turning to you, he saw the white eyes that stared blankly out. The prince held your face, pressing his forehead to yours.
"I won't let her kill you." He looked to his brother, "Don't let mother win, she is blinded by our grandsire. Bend the knee to Rhaenyra." Before Aegon could argue Aemond stepped backward falling from the window. His arms out beside him, looking up at you.
Red flames licked around his body, capturing his body, whisking him across the water to the witch.
@blue-serendipity @daeneryqueenofhearts
#aemond fanfiction#aemond one eye#aemond targaryen#aemond x reader#hotd#daemon x rhaenyra#rhaenyra targaryen
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Lance Sweets (Bones)- Short Story : Chapter 3
Bickering in the Jeffersonian is almost like your cup of coffee in the morning. You can’t help but smile when Booth and Brennan go back and forth about their perspectives on a chosen topic. You’re all standing over the most recent victim’s remains. Going over possible scenarios. Hodgins and Angela have made great progress and Brennan is trying to discourage Booth from conjecture.
Her mortal enemy.
“It’s a theory, Bones. I’m not saying an actual samurai slashed this guy in half.”
“Good, because we’re not certain that’s what happened.”
You smile. This has become the best part of your life. Being around these intelligent and interesting people.
“Well, we’re still waiting for Hodgins to get the results from the last scrap of evidence. Until then let’s just assume that there is a potential for samurais. “ Camile jokes.
You’re about to give your own little note on what it could be, but all of their bodies become stiff. You pause. It’s apparent that they aren’t stiff per se.
They are frozen.
So is everything and everyone else in the lab.
Your eyes harden.
“Show yourself.”
This isn’t any old sorcerer.
A figure steps from around the corner and you walk down the short flight of stairs, eyes fixed on his gait. He’s wearing a hood, head bent. You can’t see his eyes. Not at first.
The green cloak isn’t something you recognize. When he finally lifts his head, those emerald hues are glowing.
“Who are you?”
You’re at a distance, but you stand your ground.
“Who I am doesn’t really matter. Who you are is what’s more important.”
You don’t like this. As powerful as you are, picking a fight with this being is reckless. His presence emits power that throws you off.
“I’m not here to cause any problems. “
“Forgive me if I’m not the most trusting. Why did you do this? What do you want?”
“I only want to return a favor.”
You mean to ask exactly what he’s talking about, but the sound of footsteps in the distance breaks your focus.
“(Y/N)?”
It’s Sweets.
He looks around the room clearly confused and you’re just as puzzled.
“How are you..”
You don’t understand why Sweets isn’t frozen like everyone else.
That being turns to him, and something about Sweet’s entire posture changes. He looks more sure. Less like a psychologist and more like a god.
“Is it time, Spectre?” Sweets questions.
“It is.”
Now you’re completely lost.
“What is going on!!” You demand.
Sweets turns to you and something about his expression is very disarming. He walks over to you, and when he reaches out and takes your hand, it feels different.
“I apologize for deceiving you, it was never my intention.”
The familiarity behind his gaze has struck you. Your breath comes out ragged, because it’s hard to believe.
Process.
“Ae..ther…?”
His smile is hesitant. He takes your hand, leaving a kiss on it like he’d done so many times in the past.
“I was certain after the war I would cease to exist. But I was fortunate. Rewarded for my part in maintaining humanity. I wanted nothing more than to tell you. The first day you walked through that door I was grateful, but I could not reveal myself. "
A single tear streams down your cheek and he lifts his hand, wiping it away.
“I’m sorry for the pain I’ve put you through (Y/N).”
How can you ever be mad? You both fought on the same side during that war. There had been so many. Being immortal felt like torture when you knew that the one person you would have gladly died for would not be with you.
“I’m the one who asked him to keep his identity a secret.” Spectre says. You turn.
“You and I are the same. We understand the bigger picture of humanity. My duty is to protect the balance. You’ve done the same here on earth. The least I could do was make your journey less lonely. The universe helps its protectors. You both deserve the ending that you were robbed off. I know what it’s like to live without the one you care most about.”
You can see his sincerity as well as his understanding. You aren’t sure what to say to convey your gratitude. He’d literally given you the one thing that you’ve wanted most in the world.
“T-Thank you…Thank you so much Spectre.”
He smiles.
“You can call me Oliver.”
Sweets is wearing a similar smile.
“Thank you for all you’ve done. Truly. Being here with her, it’s all that I’ve ever wanted. “ Sweets expresses.
You only ever dreamed about the same.
“I’m the one that should be thanking the both of you. Keep fighting the good fight, I’ll be around.”
The ring of light that sparks again in his irises catches your attention. Oliver gives a small wave, and just like that, it all restarts. Bodies start moving around the institute as if nothing happened and Oliver is gone.
“So, what did you guys need me for?”
Sweets turns to the rest of the team that smiles at his words. You’re still in a bit of awe. Learning what you did.
“Hey, everything alright (Y/N)?” Booth calls from his spot.
You turn to Sweets who gazes at you innocently.
Reaching over, you grab the lapels of his shirt as you pull him in for a heated kiss. You hear the sounds of surprise. A few whistles, but you don’t care. He’s clearly caught off guard. It takes a moment, but he finally reciprocates, arms curling around your body as he pulls you flush against him. It’s definitely unprofessional to have a full on make out session right in the middle of your job, but you could care less. After what feels like an eternity, you pull away, breathing heavily. His eyes search yours, licking his lips.
“You’re coming home with me tonight.” You whisper.
He nods, still dazed.
“Yes, of course…”
You finally release your hold, turning to the rest of them.
“So what do we know?” You say casually.
They all seem to be recovering from what just happened. It might be a shock for all of them, but you’ve never been happier.
#lancesweets#eternallife#care#trust#bones 2005#temperance brennan#seeley booth#magic#humor#soulmates#gods#feelings#lancexreader#family
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ParasiteCrazes Au (RiseOTTMNT Horror Au)
So, here part 4 of Donnie acting odd after the Krang Indicent. ParasiteCrazes Au.
_Flashback to Splinter's death_
Donnie's POV:(Wakes up from a huge headache)
Donnie-Ugh...painful sigh and goans...Why now for a unwanted headache...I have lot of work to do, but nooo!... My dum-dum brothers demand that I... me...to get sleep.. how unnecessary... Nervous Laugh...I should get medicine for this...pained sigh...headache..
(Starts walking to the medbay, while walking instead of going to the medbay but went to Splinter's room)
*Knocking on door*
Donnie's Thoughts- Why won't my body listen to me...Oh..Well I...feeeelll...ssoooo........HUNGRY...
Splinter-Ah...Purple my boy, what are you doing up?..Is something wrong, my son?..
Donnie?- Fa..ther...It...hurtss...I...want..a.....hug.......please...
Splinter-Sure, Donatello..Come here.*hugs Donnie?* There you go, my boy.
Donnie?-*hugs harder* I'm....ssoooo.....soorrrry.....
Splinter-Wha-(crush to death by a hug from Donnie?)
Donnie?-I'm...*single tear runs down his face* so...sor-HUNGRY!!...
Here the of Donnie being himself for a few moments. Well, I hope you guys enjoy and don't bother with the choose between A or B because I'm doing both so, Thanks for the notes and follows.
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The Dark Knight Fanfic (Joker x OC) Part 2
(ONE WEEK BEFORE)
It was a late night in one of the shadier parts of downtown Gotham. Lottie Wayne said goodbye to her friends at the "Thrills" strip club after her shift of pole dancing. Her audience had been mostly Sal Maroni's goons, with a few of the other regulars. Gothams world of crime fascinated her, and this was her main reason for sneaking out of her dorm every Tuesday and Friday night to work at the club. The other reasons were pure boredom and the adrenaline rush she got from watching everyone's eyes on her when she danced.
Stuffing her neon pink platform heels in her bag and putting on some white ballet flats, she made her way out the back door, walking down the familiar alleyways. Sure, it wasn't the safest thing for her to walk home alone, but Lottie didn't mind the risk. It gave her a chance to sort out her thoughts, and if need be, she kept a knife gripped in her hand (something she had become accustomed to using in a pinch). She knew all the best places to dispose of a body in downtown Gotham. Uptown (where Gotham University was) had less options. Everything was so clean and tidy up there. Lottie hated that.
Lottie turned a dimly lit corner, and stumbled, tripping over a crack in the pavement. She let out a yelp, falling forward onto her face. She groaned, trying to get up but slipping and falling again. "Shit." She said, feeling irritation rise up in her throat. Her lip was bleeding and she'd ripped a hole in her black leggings. 'I must've gotten too distracted thinking about the information I got out of Maroni's men. It's amazing what people feel comfortable telling strippers.' She thought, smiling then wincing as the pain in her mouth started to grow more apparent. She heard footsteps approaching from behind her, and the sound of something heavy being dragged on the ground. She sat up, flipping open her knife and turning around, scrambling to her feet. She squinted in the dark, but her eyes could only make out the tall figure of a man, who appeared to be dragging a body by the collar of its shirt behind him. The man didn't seem to see her, as he started humming softly.
'This is my chance. If I'm quiet enough I can get away...' Lottie thought, shivering. She stepped back carefully, turning from the man and making her way slowly along the alleyway's wall. 'Almost ther-'
"Going somewhere, uh, doll-face?" A nasally voice asked, alarmingly close behind her.
Lottie rolled her eyes, turning. "Look, mister. I don't have enough time to kill you, hide your body in the nearest ditch and get all the way back to my dorm at Gotham University. So if you'd kindly piss off, I'd appreciate it. Otherwise, things won't end well for you." Lottie said.
The man took several steps closer. Lottie's eyes widened as the dim light illuminated the face of the infamous Joker himself. "That's a nice knife you've got there. I have a very similar one, uh, right here." He gracefully slipped a knife out of his inner coat pocket, flipping it open.
This man was not to be underestimated. Lottie took a step back, only to realize there was a wall behind her. The Joker pinned her up against the wall, holding the knife to her throat and licking his scarred lips in anticipation.
Lottie stared back at him, eyes alight with fascination. "Nice to finally meet you. Back at the club, Gambol told me you stole quite a bit from the mob banks. Or, am I mistaken?"
The Joker looked momentarily taken aback, but regained his intimidating composure quite quickly. "You're not wrong.." He laughed maniacally. "But what's a sweet girl like you doing hanging out with the mob? Are you by any chance, Maroni's squeeze?"
Lottie grimaced with disgust. "No, I'm out of his league." She writhed, trying to get free of the Joker's grip, very aware of how much the knife was pressing into her neck.
"You have a little fight in you. I like that." He growled. Then he did something completely unexpected. He released his grip on her and flipped his knife closed, stepping back.
Lottie furrowed her brow in confusion. Seeing this, the Joker grinned, clearly amused by her flustered expression. Lottie cleared her throat, stepping away from the wall, and approaching him.
"Don't push your luck, beautiful." The Joker said, caught off guard by her not making any attempt to run away.
"I'm not. I just think it would be rude for me not to give you my name, seeing as I know yours so well." Lottie said confidently.
"You are a strange one."
"You can call me Lottie." She smiled, blushing a bit when she saw the way he was looking at her. "I'm a student at Gotham University, but I'm usually around this area on Tuesday and Thursday nights."
"Why are you telling me this? Aren't you scared of me?" The Joker said, returning her look of fascination.
"I have a feeling this won't be the last time I see you. At least," Lottie smirked, "I don't want it to be." And with that, she picked up her bag from the ground and left the alleyway. Behind her she could hear the Joker's wild laughter in the night.
#joker fanfiction#joker x reader#joker x oc#the dark knight fanfic#the dark knight#fanfic#nolanverse#batman oc#batman fanfiction#batman#joker#heath ledger#Gotham
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Verum Vindictae - I
Masterlist, Chpt. II
Pairing: Marcus x OC (Josephine "Jo" Carlisle)
Fandom: John Wick (2014)
Summary: Bound by a blood oath she made fourteen years ago, Jo is desperately trying to escape a world she used to dream of when she is tasked with killing the infamous "Baba Yaga" and must face the truth of her past as everything she has ever known unravels around her.
WARNINGS: violence, language, eventual explicit sexual content
Notes: Okay this could probably use some editing lol but oh well. One of my current WIP novellas.
This story is part of my Willem Dafoe Challenge.
Taglist: @glitter-and-gasoline, @giona45-5, @imwithyoutiltheendofthelinebucky, @emilynightshade89
18:05, October 21st
“I need you to kill John Wick.”
The words still lingered in the back of my mind, drowned out not even by the sheets of rain that splattered the pavement of New York, that pummeled the umbrella that I clutched with numb, icy fingers. They were the very words that had sentenced me, the very words that had made the past fourteen years all for nothing. The very words that had shattered my existence – or my hope of one – in just a few seconds.
As I walked, I paid attention this time to the advertisements in the shop windows, on their TV screens, in an attempt to distract myself, to bring even a semblance of normalcy to the circumstances I had found myself in.
One of the screens was alight with flame; tendrils of bright orange lapped at the black smoke that poured from the windows of a suburban house.
I snapped my head away, my heart quickening in my chest, the stench of smoke seeming to cloud the damp, Autumn air, the roar of the flames making the rain soundless for a few moments. I brought my arm up to shield my face from the heat.
My lungs ached from how much I screamed, wailing something blood-curdling into air thick with smoke. I must’ve been dying. Someone’s arms wrapped around my fragile body, and I buried my face in the fabric of their shirt, sputtering pitifully to expel my lungs of this cruel calamity. I wasn’t sure who it was, couldn’t smell them past the horrid stench of the fire.
A jolt passed through me as a beam, white-hot with fire, came tumbling beside us, my saviour lurching to the side and holding me tighter. I threw my arm up, the heat attacking the side of my face, stinging my tear-streaked eye. And then, cold washed over me, and I let a shaking arm fall around their shoulder, and my head was light, the world spinning, but the last thing I saw was the house lit like a torch, an orange flash, bright in the dark of night.
My eyes darted to another store window, my breath coming shaky from my lungs as I lowered my arm. A few confused stares bore into me, but I ignored them, focusing instead on the merchandise behind the glass.
Costumes, colourful and lurid, lining racks. Pink tutus, elegant leotards in every shade, flowy skirts and dresses and sequined purple top hats. There was an odd, unsettling familiarity, and so I let my gaze travel to the shoes positioned in the store window. Black jazz shoes, tap shoes that glinted with metal outsoles, and a pair of ballet slippers, stark white save for the beads of crimson that speckled them.
My heart seized, and my ankles seemed to ache beneath me as I walked, and I blinked.
The red was gone.
Every limb held rigid, my toes screaming at me in pain, my heart in my throat as I moved not in beauty or grace but in fear. The stern gaze of my mentor on every flick of my fingers, every dart of my feet.
Pain like I’d never felt before shot through the nerve of my leg up to my spine, and I plummeted, my vision undulating. I collapsed on the stage in a tangle of my own limbs, my fingers reaching gingerly for the misshapen ankle that bled, speckling my white slippers in an awful shade of red.
I was going to die, and the worst moments of my life were flashing before my eyes.
I couldn’t kill John. He’d been the one to help clean my slippers, been the one to tell me that someday, he’d get me out of there, that someday, I wouldn’t have to dance for anyone, wouldn’t have to be a slave to anyone.
He’d been wrong about that last part, of course. Funny, how things worked out. But that wasn’t his fault; it was mine. I had chosen this path. I had chosen vengeance and murder. It was my blood on that marker, not his.
I waved over a taxi, and sunk into the backseat, my black overcoat and raven locks blending with the darkness of the faux leather. I wished to disappear, to be gone from the nightmare that was this life, to no longer look over my shoulder and wonder if each face I passed on the streets was out to get me.
The taxi pulled in front of the Continental – a towering edifice sat nestled between tree-shadowed roads that branched into a somewhat quiet intersection. The structure had never ceased to amaze me when I was younger, even before it had been remodeled, but now was a sight to behold to anyone – the ivy, growing along otherwise seemingly-untouched architecture, the modern outdoor sconces that sat nestled between each pillar in the vintage colonnade either side of the gold-accented doors.
It was my only safe-house; the Continental, for years, had served as the only grounds that assassins were forbidden from conducting business on. But that wasn’t why I was here.
I folded my umbrella as I came beneath the awning: a black canopy marked with the letter “C”.
Upon entering the Continental, the roar of the heavy rain all but ceased, replaced by the subtle notes of classical music and the faint hum of activity in the lobby. My boots seemed to strike the marbled floors with a piercing conviction, catching the attention of the concierge – a familiar, friendly face.
Fourteen years, Charon had been nothing but kind to me. Though I knew it was all because I was living in Baba Yaga’s shadow, I couldn’t help but feel a certain comfort when he greeted me, the subtle lamplight gleaming in the frames of his glasses and the hint of a warm smile quirking at his lip.
“A pleasure seeing you, Miss Carlisle,” the concierge said.
I dipped my head slightly in acknowledgment, but, like John, I wasn’t one for formalities – especially not when I was on a job.
“Has John been here?” I asked.
Charon’s gaze bore into mine for a second or two, but his hint of a smile never faded. “Mr. Wick? Yes, he checked in earlier this afternoon.”
“I need to see him,” I said. “What room?”
“Miss, you know I cannot disclose that information.”
I nodded slowly, and bit my lip. Everyone at the Continental was bound by a code, the same code that forbade violence on the grounds. It transcended business, rivalries, markers and even family. Because everyone knew what happened when you broke it.
“The usual?” I asked Charon. John had always favoured a suite on the seventh floor. Habits. Even the most feared hitmen couldn’t seem to break them.
Charon said nothing, but his gaze told me enough.
“Thank you,” I said, and dipped my fingers into the pocket of my overcoat. I withdrew a gold coin and slid it across the marbled counter.
Charon’s eyes darted down to the coin, and he asked as he slipped it into the register below the desk, “Would you like a room, Miss Carlisle?”
I hesitated. Occasionally, I’d stayed at the Continental when it was more convenient for business, or when my boss became too insufferable, but I’d always had a home to return to. Now I was truly on my own, and I needed a place to stay.
“Yes, please,” I said, and slid another coin across the counter.
Charon handed me a room key, and said, “I believe Mr. Wick is out on business at the moment. May I suggest a drink at the bar?”
As I tucked the key into my pocket, my stomach clenched. Though I shouldn’t have doubted John’s capability in conducting said business, the little girl in me who’d found solace in his company when our mentor had pushed me too hard, who’d once cried into his shoulder, had seen him as a brother – she couldn’t help but fear for him, no matter how infamous he’d become.
Deft but vicious in their movements, they had all the elegance of the dancers, but none of the refined absence of freedom. They bled from savage blows, not pointed toes or fractured ankles. One boy, his dark hair tied back from hard-set eyes, fought as if he were dancing, though each movement was unpredictable. Graceful yet raw. I could’ve watched them spar for hours.
The boy was quick to pin his opponent to the ground, and their instructor uttered some words in Russian – a language I was still learning –, seeming to dismiss them. The trainees dispersed, and the boy let down his hair to his shoulders, seemingly eager to be unbound by the customs of the Ruska Room.
I had received my ballet slippers that morning, and they were held stiffly in one hand as I approached the boy – practically waddled over, for my legs were so short.
His gaze lowered to me instantly, though his face was void of emotion, brown eyes still cold as the earth, brows still strung by a faint knit.
“Can you teach me?” I asked him.
His gaze wandered to the slippers I clutched beside me, and then back to my eyes.
“Maybe when you’re older.”
“Miss Carlisle?”
Charon’s voice snapped me from the memory, pulled me from the rich incense and bitter vodka and the tincture of sweat and the sharp commands in a once-foreign tongue.
“Yes, thank you,” I said, the faintest tinge of my old accent bleeding through my words, and he told me to enjoy my stay, as per usual, though my feet guided me almost insensibly through the halls to the club.
The bright marble of the lobby was a stark contrast to the club; I found myself swathed in its mellowed lighting of shamrock and tangerine, ensconced in the slightly-more upbeat notes of the live jazz music played by a bedazzled singer and her band. Rich, red curtains were strung alongside the wall adjacent to the bar, where several members of the Continental sipped at martinis and cocktails.
The dining area was densely-populated at this hour, many couples and singles seated at small, white-clothed tables near the stage. The red-black, half-circle booths that lined the darker, quieter corners of the club were seldom occupied, most usually reserved. But my eye caught on one occupant, a bright amber eye flashing like a torch in the dim light, the other half of his face obscured by that mask I knew all too well, the collar of a black coat tugged up around his neck as if he were hiding something.
His one-eyed stare was immediately on me, freezing my stride in the middle of the dining area, my spine setting itself rigid.
Only when a woman stopped to pay him a greeting did our gazes break, did the breath return to my lungs. I scowled, watching as a couple others took notice of his presence and went to exchange greetings.
Cain was one of the most renowned assassins in the hotel. Though he boasted nowhere near the same accomplishments as Baba Yaga, he still had his tales told in hushed tones by those in the business, like the couple that sat beside me, glancing over to him and whispering bashfully in each other’s ears.
These tales were all true, because they were my tales. I should’ve been the one that they were whispering about.
I turned on my heel and started towards the bar, smoothing out my overcoat as I took a seat on one of the tall stools. No sooner did I take a seat did my phone buzz in my pocket, and as I went to reach for it, my fingers just barely ghosting across the case, my head snapped to my left, where the man beside me drew his attention from his drink to his own pocket. He procured his phone.
I dug mine out, heart thudding wildly in my chest, and nearly fumbled for the unlock button. My screen read:
ANONYMOUS CONTRACT. JONATHAN WICK. 2 MIL.
My heart plummeted into my gut, and I shoved the device back in my pocket, swallowing past a suddenly-dry throat. I cast my gaze around the club, at every face, now lit by the light of their phone screens, now big-eyed and awed. Everyone was whispering now; everyone was speaking in mad, hushed tones.
I had anticipated that the name on that contract would’ve been mine, but this… this was worse.
“Let me try,” he said, taking the slipper from the hands that I’d practically scrubbed raw in an attempt to work out the stains of my blood.
Tension was released from my diaphragm in a shaky mess of a sigh, and my fingers, ruddy and chafed, trembled. Once finished my feat of raw adrenaline, I collapsed, back sinking against the side of the tub and my tailbone hitting the ceramic floor with a sharp jolt of pain. But it was nothing in comparison to the ankle that brushed the tiles the wrong way as my leg folded before me. Spilled, soapy water seeped into the cast, and I couldn’t suppress my whimper as every nerve screamed at me, pain coursing through the tendons of my leg like fire.
He looked up from the slipper, dusky locks falling in front of eyes that were usually impossible to read, but now shone faintly with a gentle concern.
“Let me take a look at your ankle,” he said.
I shook my head stubbornly, hair fraying from its bun as my head rocked against the side of the tub. “She told me to have my slippers clean by tomorrow morning,” I protested, voice straining not to break under the stress, a tear threatening to bead at my eye.
He sighed, and set my slipper aside to begin peeling at the bandaging of my ankle. My leg seized, and I bit my tongue, iron spiking it as I tried desperately to keep the tears at bay.
“Hey,” he said, and swept a thumb beneath my eye, to collect the moisture that had spilled. “It’s okay to cry. She’s not here.”
“No,” I murmured past gritted teeth. “No, it’s not.”
I clenched my jaw now, teeth grinding, as I stood from the bar, and marched myself to the booth in the corner.
Cain’s eye, flashing bright, was trained on me as I took my seat across from him.
“Take the contract down,” I hissed.
One dark eyebrow curved upward, as if surprised, but quickly fell back into place, framing that wretched eye that burned with an ember of barely contained rage.
“I will if you do what I asked of you,” he replied, voice low. He wanted to keep this discreet; everything was always discreet.
My jaw clenched tighter, and I growled, “I told you, I won’t. I can’t.”
“You can,” he said, and a slender hand reached to clasp over mine, but I yanked my arm back with a virulent animosity.
His mouth curved into a bitter line, and he said, “He’s not your brother, Josephine. He’s not your family. Your loyalty is displaced. When is the last time you spoke to the man?”
My gaze hardened, and yet I found it difficult to look him in his eye, so it dragged across the leather of the mask that obscured the half of his face that I’d never seen, adorned by tiny, silver cogs and banded around a nest of gelled, silvering-black locks. A sharp chin dipped downward, brow knitting as he studied me from that burning eye.
I met it finally to say, “Then I have no family.”
The flame of his eye may have flickered, something akin to hurt dampening the fire that lit an amber lamplight. But I didn’t spare him so much as another glance as I stood from the booth, and turned my back on the man who, despite possibly being the closest thing I had to family since John’s retirement, had done nothing but trick me, use me, betray me.
I was done playing by the rules. I was done weighing one’s life with mine.
#john wick#2014#marcus#willem dafoe#fanfiction#fanfic#writing#my writing#oc: josephine#oc: cain#eventual smut#slow burn#mdni#verum vindictae#the willem dafoe challenge
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