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bigfatbimbo · 2 months

Note

How does Vox angst sound? Something where the reader has to take care of an injured Vox?

I’m a Bad Liar with a Savior Complex —

1.5k words,, Vox x reader

summary — After a bad fight with Valentino, Vox seeks comfort in his bootycall, you.

warnings — Toxic relationships, abuse, manipulation, Vox being a dick, Valentino is his own warning, hurt/comfort

a/n — I think I went way too ham on this one. The request was “Vox angst” not a poorly written shakespeare play.

You weren’t expecting anyone that night, let alone your self proclaimed bootycall, Vox. The knock at your door was surprising on its own, but your amazement only grew when you opened it.

“Are you going to let me in—ozzz—or are you just going to st—aa—are?” He spoke through gritted teeth and with effort.

“Vox,” you place your hand on his shoulder and usher him in, “what the hell happened to you?”

Already familiar with your apartment, he flips down on the couch almost immediately and leans in head back.

Under the dim lighting of your one singular lamp, you take him in; screen cracked at the right corner, shirt disheveled, and from what you could see in his face, eyes tired and sunken.

“Oh not much—chh—“ He sighed, glitching slightly, “—just a peachy day in the park.”

You didn’t know what to do. Vox was no picnic, unfortunately, you knew that better than most. But you vaguely wonder what could have provoked this?

Vox was a smooth talker, he usually didn’t fail to charm people and kiss ass to get what he wanted. You doubt Alastor had time to cause that kind of damage these days, not to mention the interest.

So the one culprit for the mess that sat in front of you had to be… oh.

“Jesus. How’d you piss him off this time?” You genuinely ask, coming over to accompany Vox on the couch.

“Well—bzz— he’s always pissed about something. Today’s tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of—mhh—me,” Vox sighed deeply and winced as he sat up.

“Why, do you like the new look?” Coming from anyone else, the comment would have been an attempt to lighten the mood. However, Vox only meant to condescend the baffled look in your eyes.

‘Why are you just sitting there? Help me,’ his eyes, well, what’s left of his eyes said.

You sigh and get up, stopping to stare down at him one last time, “So, what do we need to fix this?”

He contemplated for a moment, “Well, I got the hell out of dodge before I had the chance to grab a spare—szc—screen so—“ he pointed to the area around his face, “anything to stop my fucking face from chipping off would be great.”

“So, like what? Fucking ducktape?” your attempt at a joke fell flat when the expression on his face didn’t move.

He simply grimaced.

You frown and look longingly towards your kitchen, “I’ll see what I have.”

You end up settling for ducktape after all. A purely comical solution to what can only be described as a miserable situation.

You patched him up gently, your hand resting on the bottom of his screen and covering the chipped part, as delicately as possible, with ducktape.

“You know, it would be kind of funny. The ducktape, I mean,” you try to smile, “…but it’s not funny.”

For once in his entire existence, it seemed Vox had nothing to say. No smart-ass remarks or egotistical words fell from his mouth. Only quiet silence as he breathed shakily in and out.

You couldn’t help but analyze his actions in your head. He must be getting sick of it, being treated like garbage by Val, by Alastor, by everyone who should respect him.

Except Vox’s empire, his power, any of it couldn’t help in this regard. Valentino was apart of his life in hell, and quietly it was dawning on Vox that even he couldn’t talk his way out of this.

Not entirely anyway. They needed eachother in some sick sense. Vox knew this, and now it seemed so did you.

Your heart ached for the man. In all of his terrible ways he seemed to be finding that cruelty was a double sided sword. Except this time, he got stabbed straight through.

You finished patching him up in silence, before leaning down and placing a kiss on the top, undamaged side of screen.

Your thumb caressed the area of his cheek softly. He shut his eyes and leaned into the gentle touch, frowning deeply.

You sit down next to him once again. “You’re staying with me tonight, okay?”

He nodded weakly, partly because he didn’t want to upset his head injury. But also partially to show you how vulnerable he felt at the moment. Although an upsettingly subtle que, he gazed up at you in hopes you would just take care of him without him having to ask.

Thankfully you catch on. You guide him up from the couch and rub his back gently while leading him to the bedroom and sitting him down.

“I have some t-shirts and sweatpants in the closet. I’m gonna go get you some water,” you say, soothingly rubbing his back before leaving.

When you come back, he already changed into comfier clothing and set his work clothes on a chair near your bed, in order to not wrinkle them.

He lays curled up on the bed with his eyes open, looking as if he was about to cry. You cringe at the thought. You’d been awkward enough tonight, Vox crying did not need to add to that.

You come over to him with the iced cold cup, sit him up right, and place it in his hands.

“Drink,” you command. He does, without hesitation. Jesus, you think, Vox taking orders. Thats new.

After downing the whole glass in one large swig, he sets it on the bed side table.

“He threw a f—fff—ucking wine bottle at me,” Vox said glumly.

You were just happy he was talking again. You cuddle up close to him on the bed, taking him under your arm, trying not to mind the less than ideal way the corner of Vox’s screen poked into your jaw. Oh well, Vox seemed comfortable enough.

He curled closer to you, sinking into your side and shutting his eyes, but not with the intention of falling asleep.

“I’m sorry. He’s such a douchebag,” And what? Vox isn’t? Your inability to comfort him was weighing unbareabley on your mind. Do better.

“But you’re safe now, sweetheart,” you pull him closer to you under the blankets, “I’m not gonna let anything happen to you.”

Vox hummed, the sides of his mouth flickering down as the lump in his throat grew tighter.

You kept going, “You handled it so well. You get to relax now, okay? Nothing bad’s gonna happen under my watch.”

It was stupid, Vox thought. He was an overlord, a powerful one at that. Protection was below him. But so was getting fucked up by his angry boyfriend and running off to his side pieces apartment, so who knows?

In hindsight, it was his fault. He was sloppy in his ways of manipulation tonight and Val had caught onto him. Well, in a figurative and literal sense, he supposed.

Oh, how the powerful fall at the feet of those closest to them. Serves him right.

He knows you aren’t stupid. You knew what he said earlier about how Val’s ‘tantrum had nothing to do with the likes of him’ was a lie.

And yet, here you were helping him. Vox couldn’t wrap his head around it. Just as he couldn’t understand why you continued spewing such comforting words.

Words that, if you asked anyone else, he didn’t deserve. He stopped himself from dwelling on it when he felt the tears brew in the corner of his eyes.

“I’m proud of you, Vox,” you speak softly.

He burrows his screen in your chest. “No, you’re not,” he whispers, grasping onto your shirt softly, “And I thought I was the—spzz— the liar.”

“I’m not lying. It takes a lot to survive that crazy ass moth. Let alone, everyday. I am proud of you,” you plant a kiss on the top of his head.

That was the breaking point. Vox tried to justify his tears in his mind; It’s not like he hadn’t already been embarrassingly vulnerable tonight, anyways. Could it get much worse?

For you, maybe. As the waterworks flowed, you shushed him softly and rubbed his back. Honestly, you were a little worried about the tears fucking up his system, because of all the cracks in his head.

Thankfully, you didn’t notice any changes, basic bodily function-wise.

You found Vox’s outburst of tears specifically alarming. He muttered little apologies throughout. However, it seemed less and less about the tears themselves.

He clung to you and his the remains of his face in your shirt, hoping you wouldn’t get pissed off at the wetness around your collar.

You let him cry, and shush him with small gentle words of praise. He looks up at you, screen slick and shiny. You lean down to give him a watery, but gentle kiss.

The sad part, you think to yourself, is that you know exactly what’s going to happen tomorrow.

Things will go back to normal, Vox’s walls will come back up as if this never happened, and he’ll continue seeing Valentino. He’ll act as if he never confided in you, and once again, you two will only be an occasional good-fuck.

There was no lesson in any of this. Almost as if the whole experience was completely futile. Nothing would change, and Vox and Val would continue in their toxic, horny, power struggle. Vox using Val to his advantage, Val getting pissed off and fucking him up.

What did you expect? Well, you’d just about accepted this fact when Vox, half asleep, all cried out, and sleepily drooling on your shirt, muttered three small words.

“I love you.”

a/n — link to part two is here

#hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x you #hazbin hotel fluff #hazbin hotel vox #vox x you #vox x reader #vox hazbin hotel #hazbin vox

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sluts-assembled · 3 months

Text

Aftershock

Someone bought me a coffee...that's why Reader is a little bit more descriptive than usual.

Warnings: NSFW, non consensual vaginal sex, non consensual oral sex, non consensual spanking, hair pulling, gun play, Daddy kink, face slapping, violence, degradation, humiliation

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Something feels wrong in the air when you get back to the school with Riko, Suguru, and Satoru. You don’t sense a shift in cursed energy, and everything seems fine otherwise…that is until a sword impales Gojo right before your youthful eyes. Your heart throbs in rapid beats as you pull your sword out from the sheath on your skirt.

Many words are spoken, but you hear none as Suguru pulls you and Riko towards the school.

“What?” You breathe with so many questions on your tongue but none finding their way past your throat. Gulping, you shake your head. “Geto, we can’t just leave him!”

“You’ll be safer with me. I promise. We need to get Riko to safety.”

You bite back a cry as you look over your shoulder at your friend now fighting with the man who stabbed him. If he’s fully healed, then Suguru must be right. Gojo can handle him. You need to keep moving and secure the vessel for Tengen.

Too much happens at a faster rate than you can process. One second, Riko is telling Geto and you that she wants to keep living, she’s only a young girl who still has plenty of life left in her. This girl is more than just the Star Plasma Vessel, she is a bright star herself. You can’t help but hope that Geto will allow the girl to reach her wish, but then a shot rings out, and a bullet passes through the young teen’s skull right in front of you. Geto’s reaction is much the same as yours as shock courses through him.

He orders you to run, and you should listen to him, but your feet fail to move. Your eyes are trained on the man who stabbed Gojo as he walks towards you two with a gun in hand. Shaking your head to clear your mind, you reach for your sword.

Whoosh. Your hair sways with the breeze as something moves by you so quickly, and your sword vanishes from its sheath. You see this man with a scar on the edge of his lip balance your weapon in his hand.

“Hey, don’t you know it’s rude to play with something that doesn’t belong to you,” is all you can quip as you bear your teeth at him.

“’Guess I’ll just hafta play with ya instead. I think I’ll like the pretty sounds ya make when I have ya screamin’ in pain.”

His eyes glint with sinister revelations, and you’re forced behind Geto’s protective arm.

“RUN! NOW!” He pushes you towards an exit so that you can get away quicky.

This time, you must listen because the man who stabbed Gojo and just took your sword at lightning speed isn’t someone Suguru thinks you have a chance of winning against.

To be honest…you’re not even sure if you could beat him in a two-on-one. If Geto has free reign in a fight, then he doesn’t need to worry about structure damage or collateral. You would probably just be in the way. With amplification to your cursed technique, you move as fast as you can to flee the area and bring in outside help. Maybe Nanami? Mei Mei? You run as far and fast as you can to find your classmates, but where the hell is everyone?

You check classroom after classroom only to end up with nothing. It’s as if everyone left early for the day. When you go to exit the school and check the dorms, you’re pushed face first into a wall. Your heavy breasts cushion the impact, but you came so close to hitting your forehead against the hard surface.

You look over your shoulder, having to crane your neck because he towers over you. It’s him.

“Who are you?” You can’t help but wonder, needing a name to place with all of the utter chaos he’s causing. The terror he’s filling you with needs to match not just a face.

“’Name’s Toji. Now, where’s a little bunny like ya runnin’ off to? The only place ya need to be is right here.” His rather large hand finds your wrist, holding it down by your side as he leans his head down to the soft nape of your neck.

You snap your head back, trying to catch his nose with the back of your skull.

He foresees your movements and tilts his head out of the way. “Too slow, little bunny. Too fuckin’ slow.”

Toji quickly pins you to the wall by your hips. His thumbs dip into your high waisted skirt, and he can’t help but play with the fabric teasingly. “This yer little school uniform, sweetheart? Do the boys try to catch a peek when yer doin’ all kinds of big girl fighting?”

His patronization bothers you immensely. You’re an asset to this school, an accomplished martial artist and swordswoman. He’s acting as if you’re nothing but a young girl who just entered middle school!

Wrenching your wrists up to the small of your back, he works a knee in between your thighs, spreading your feet apart until the fabric of his pants is nestled right against your clothed pussy.

“Stop talking to me like that, you asshole! I’ll fucking kill you if you try anything. I swear to God, this isn’t funny!”

You jut your shoulder out, trying to gain leverage against the wall. Once again, you find your curvy tits smashed against it.

“Watch that pretty mouth, or I’ll hafta wash it out with my come,” he whispers salaciously into your ear.

You shriek and kick your foot up, trying to stomp on his toe. Your feet are too far apart, and Toji is having too much fun watching all of your attempts. The entertainment leaves him chuckling lowly, darkly, like a rattle snake with predatory intentions.

He nudges your thighs farther and farther apart. With your chest and cheek squished against the wall, wrists pinned behind your back as your spine arches, and feet more than just shoulder length apart, Toji has you bent at a very odd angle. Still, you can feel something growing, poking into the seat of your skirt.

You know exactly what that is, and you don’t want it anywhere near you.

“No…no, no, no!” Your shrill voice fills the hallway as he spins you around to face him. You didn’t notice every detail about him before, but now, you can’t help but take every malevolent inch of him in.

His tall frame, bulky with muscles that must have taken an immense amount of endurance and consistency to form. His eyes as black as a moonless night. The way even his clothes cling to him like moss on stones, enhancing every sculpted line of his abdomen. Even the faded scar on his lip seems much more prominent. The last thing you take in is his wild hair, not as long as Geto’s, but just as black as a raven’s. Everything about this man from his clothes to his nature drips with darkness.

However, this is your chance to try something, to even show him that you’re not going to stand here and take his perverted assault. Your right fist shoots out, but he slips his head, missing your fist as you aim for his jaw. Again, your next attack curves upwards, trying to slam your knuckles into his liver. As you witnessed earlier, he shows off his amazing speed once more, countering your fists with parries and punches of his own. You dodge and block his quick hands as hard as you can, sweat budding on your brow as he runs down your stamina. You have to act quick, be just as fast as him. You don’t want to deliver any kicks without a set up, and now is the perfect time as you see an opening in his stomach. A jab has you keep your other fist up by your jaw to prevent him from knocking you out, a cross to set up the kick, and the final delivery.

What you do not expect is for him to grab your fucking thigh and throw you into the goddamn wall. Your back crashes against it, a large fissure in the surface as you slump down to the ground. You roll over, getting your bearings, hefting yourself up on hands and knees. You look to your side, but he’s nowhere to be found. No, not a chance. He’s behind you.

Toji flexes his foot, stomping your left butt cheek so hard that you fall on your stomach.

“Fuck!” You scream in anger at the humiliation he’s putting you through.

Crouching down, he grabs you by your hair, pulling your head up. He gives you a smirk full of condescension. “Nice…but too fuckin’ slow, hon. Yer gonna hafta pick up the pace if ya wanna land a blow on me. I think I’d rather have ya blow my cock though. Sounds a lot more fun than this little back and forth.”

Your neck feels on the verge of snapping if he keeps this up any longer. You try to grab his wrist, to pry him off of your locks, but you only end up forcing him to pull your hair even harder. Relenting, you drop your hand from his joint and try to elbow him in the ribs. Finally, you land a decent shot, but you don’t move him. Not in the slightest. Instead, it seems you only poked the bear, but the bear is pissed nonetheless.

He bashes your head into the floor, and you use all of the cursed energy you have to protect yourself from the harm. Your brow only bloodied slightly from the abuse; your brains rattled even more.

Toji hefts you up over his broad shoulder, slinging an arm over the back of your knees, smacking your ass once as he starts walking towards a classroom.

“Ya know,” he begins as he slides open one of the shoji doors, “’should be glad ya ran away from your friend when you did. Just means I don’t have anyone gettin’ in my way.” He drops you on the desk at the front of the room.

You scrunch your eyes closed from the impact of being dropped on your back, spine hitting hard wood. Sitting up, you use your elbow as balance, but with only so much room, Toji doesn’t exactly let you get far. He drags you towards him by your ankles, a cruel grin twisting his lips as he flattens you back out on the desktop. His hands clasp your knees in a crushing grip, pushing them all the way up to your buxom chest as he slithers back in between your legs, just like when he held you against the wall.

Unable to kick, unable to knee him, unable to do much, you beat your clenched fists against his chest, attempting to strike his face even. It gets you nowhere, and you feel truly hopeless as reality dawns on you. You can do nothing as he begins biting and sucking on your collarbone and throat, leaving toothy marks and O shaped bruises in the wake of his pouty lips.

His hands once on your knees slip underneath your navy-blue skirt, fingers ghosting the waistband of your panties, pulling on the silky fabric until he tears them off completely. They fall to the floor in tatters of lavender with a white rose on the front, and you scream at him to let you go, to put an end to this torment.

“I get it! You’re bigger than me! Is that what you’re trying to prove?!” You bite at him, trying to prolong this, to keep him away from you as long as you can.

He eyes you, those midnight orbs staring into you like a dragon facing its hoard of gold. “This isn’t about me proving anything. Nah, after dealin’ with yer little friends, I need some stress relief, and yer cute little pussy is the perfect thing to take it out on.”

Already in between your legs, he has no need to pry your knees further apart, yet he does all the same. He wants a good look at the treasure he just found. His scar quirks up as he stares at your velvety folds, and he whistles with satisfaction. “I was right. It is pretty cute.”

Your tiny cunt flutters at the compliment, wet and glistening in preparation for what is to come.

He doesn’t rid himself of his clothes. He only pushes his white trousers down enough to free his cock. However, he does rip at yours, intent on causing you as much mortification as he possibly can. With your school uniform in shreds on the floor along with the sheath to your long-forgotten sword, you’re completely bare and oh-so vulnerable to this beast.

“Ya ready, hon? I just know it’s gonna be tight.” He grunts as he lines himself up with your quaking slit. “Be a good girl, n’ take a deep breath for me.”

But you hold it, and his cock jabs inside of you so hard that you wish you had listened to him. Biting your lip, you throw your head back with a yelp of pain, much like a kicked pup.

“I warned ya,” is all he has to say before he thrusts into you, hips digging into yours, carving his monumental length into your womb, breaking your virginity.

You’re too tight, too small, and he’s so huge. It hurts as he tears through tissue, but it feels pleasant as his cock begins to settle inside your walls. You can feel his veiny member twitch inside of you, can see the bliss on his face as he gets to know your most intimate parts.

Toji furthers the penetration by pressing your knees all the way up to your tits again, holding you there as he looks straight at you. “Keep those eyes open. I wanna see the look on yer face when ya come all over my cock.”

You gasp, everything about him is just so incredibly massive as he continues to bully his way inside of you. Blinking up at him with teary eyes, you give into his demands and meet his dark gaze.

Confliction takes over your body as your brain reminds you that this is rape, but your body argues that his erection is just so nice and filling. You hold back a moan when you feel him hit a tiny ball of something that causes your hips to bump up and meet his, your clit tickled by his black patch of scratchy pubes. You turn your head to the side to avoid showing him that you’re responding to his ministrations, but he slaps you, red fingerprints blooming across the apple of your cheek.

“Thought I told ya to keep those cry baby eyes on me, hon,” he sneers at you, waiting for you to face him again.

And you do. You look at him with a trembling lip as the tears finally edge their way past your waterline and fall in fat rolls, joining at your chin before trailing down to your chest, slipping and disappearing in between your heaving breasts.

You keep your focus on him, even as he frees one knee in order to spank your ass harshly. His palm comes crashing down again and again and again. Several times, a dozen times. It makes no difference to you as he blindly smacks away at whatever flesh he can find. You’re more than positive the area he just beat is a cherry red with flecks of indigo bruises. It makes you want to squeeze your eyes shut and cry out, makes you want to twist under his hold, but you don’t dare to do any of it. You have to keep your eyes on him.

“I fucking hate you,” you whisper at him with disdain tinting your features.

“Yeah? Doesn’t really matter to me,” he presses into you, causing you to arch your back just right for him.

You elicit a lewd moan from the feeling of having him pound deeply into you like the little fuck toy that you are for him. It drives him wild, only spurring him to quicken his pace as he creates a mess out of you. Tiny and stupid with big tits just made for his meaty paws. That’s all you are to this bulky man as he rapes your virgin pussy, your slit weeping around his fat cock with a mixture of blood and juices.

In a last-ditch effort to get him off of your body, you reach out and try to jab your thumbs into his eyes, but you just haven’t learned your lessen yet.

“What a naughty little girl,” he drawls out, and your body goes into another state of shock for the second time today as you feel the cold barrel of his gun against your temple. “Seems someone oughta teach ya a lesson in behavin’.” He rests his finger along the barrel, just close enough to the trigger if you were to try anything again.

Fear strangles you. You can’t breathe, too afraid that even the slightest bounce of your breasts might set him off to shoot the gun. Whimpering as you bite your lip, you nod in submission.

I won’t fight you anymore.

It’s an unspoken agreement, one that he acknowledges with the slyest of grins.

Internally, you seethe with rage yet sob with agonized torment from the guttural and feral fucking. You hate the fact that you have given in to him, you hate yourself for it most of all, but with the gun pressed to your skull as he bucks his hips into you…what choice do you really have?

Suddenly, laughter rumbles from his chest, deep and rolling like thunder in charcoal skies. “It’s kinda funny. Six Eyes is bleedin’ out somewhere, and here ya are gettin’ fucked like a little bitch in heat.”

Tears well up in your eyes as your mouth parts. How could you not have realized Toji being here means that he won against your classmates?

“What did you do to him?” You can’t help but ask, curiosity tormenting you alongside the hulk of a man mounting you.

“I fuckin’ killed ‘em, sweetheart.”

And the tears flow faster like a heavy current. It’s probably the same for Geto then. The dam breaks, and your breath hitches as you succumb to your agonized and pained wails which built up inside of you since he began playing with you.

“Don’t cry, princess. ‘S alright. I’ll take care of ya. Make ya cry for a bunch of different reasons,” he jabs at your insecurity as he wipes away your tears with the barrel of his gun.

And he lives up to his word, splitting your pussy with such vigor that you momentarily forget Gojo’s predicament as your back arches off of the table, hitting that tiny bomb embedded in your walls with the thick tip of his cockhead, causing a beautiful explosion to go off. Your body jolts as waves of pleasure overcome you more than several times, until you’re nothing but a twitching little prize on his wet dick.

Your orgasm and blood soak his entire length, and all he has to do to finish up is push the barrel in between your brows and demand you suck him off.

“Come on, sweetheart. Open wide for Daddy.”

It’s like calling himself that comes so naturally to him, like he doesn’t mind referring to himself in that way. Such a sacred relationship, and he doesn’t care one bit if he tramples over it, making a mockery of it.

You eye the hung and fat girth of his stalk, the still twitchy vein throbbing away at the prospect of filling your toothy cavern.

Again, with the barrel of the gun set between your eyes, what choice do you have but to follow along? Your obedience serves you well, but only for so long as he cocks the gun and strokes your hair with it, calling you all sorts of pretty and demented pet names while you take him so far that your nose rubs against his patch of hair surrounding the base of his length. Not trimmed in the slightest yet not overgrown, the musky scent wafts into your nostrils while you gag on his mushroom tip.

Your eyes water again as he shoves your head so far into his lower abdomen, you have to grip his hips to steady yourself as you’re overcome with lack of oxygen. Drool seeps past the corner of your lips, trailing down your chin along with those crocodile tears of yours.

“Yeah, I think this suits ya much better than being a Jujutsu Sorcerer. Put that mouth and puss to good use.”

You have a sudden urge to bite down on him, but he sees it in your glaring eyes and prevents it from happening by taping your forehead with the black weapon quite harshly in your opinion. It leaves you flinching, feeling as though a bruise might be left behind from the way he’s tap, tap, tapping you with the gun, silently ordering you to obey his every command or else.

Averting your eyes, you continue to bob your mouth along his shaft like the cheap slut he’s making you feel, and there’s nothing you can do but submit and “clean him up”. He shoves himself down your throat once more, twice more, again and again until come fills your mouth, and you’re forced to swallow it down.

His behemoth sized cock pops free past your lips, and you let your head fall back, not caring about the uncomfortableness of your skull hitting the wooden surface. You watch as Toji hops down from the desk, adjusting his pants before putting his gun away.

And that’s the last you see of Toji, your rapist, the man who snatched your virginity, the guy who couldn’t even be bothered to give you his shirt. You have to walk all the way back to the dorms with nothing on. But there’s Gojo and Geto…alive. And even though everything went horribly wrong today, at least you still have your friends.

#jujutsu kaisen #toji fushiguro #toji x reader #toji smut #jjk toji #toji x you #toji fushigro x reader #toji fic #jujutsu kaisen toji #dilf toji #jujutsu toji #fushiguro toji x reader #jjk smut

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sailor-aviator · 3 months

Text

Fool's Fare: Chapter Six

Pairing: Jake "Hangman" Seresin x Reader

Summary: Captain Jake "Hangman" Seresin had come close to swinging from the gallows more times than he would care to admit. He's stolen, cheated, even killed. The worst thing he's ever done? Broken the heart of a woman. Having broken the heart of the woman whom Davy Jones himself had fallen for six years ago, Jake is now cursed to live as something not dead, but not alive. He's doomed to live a half-life for the rest of his existence unless he manages to obtain the treasure Davy Jones deems most valuable. The problem? He has no idea what it is, and he only had seven years to obtain it.

Trigger Warning: Brief mentions of loss of loved ones, Guppy has a meltdown (justified), Talks of Curse, Talks of the supernatural, Sword Fighting, Flirting, Someone gets stabbed (like run through with a sword), Descriptions of blood, Mentions of alcohol, Swearing, Assault but not really (you'll see), Smut (knife play, dry humping, groping, dirty talk, both get off), angst, a smidge of fluff. I think that's it, but let me know if I missed anything!

Word Count: 5.8k

Series Masterlist || Moodboards || Playlist || Jake "Hangman" Seresin Tag List

It was strange how time changed everything and yet nothing all at once. Time changed the seasons and the tides, caring not for whom it affected. It changed the day to night and back again, it changed youth into age. Yes, time changed. It changed and it took.

It took stone and weathered it away. It took the air that the flame of your candle needed to breathe. It took your happy life and turned it into nothing but distant memories, and it took lives, leaving nothing but others to mourn.

Time had taken your father and then your mother, and now you had to dread the day it would take Bradley away from you too. Time was greedy, and it would take and take and take until you stopped it. Time was your greatest enemy.

“Look alive, Guppy.”

You turned to see Jake strutting across the deck, barely catching the movement of his arm as he threw something to your feet. The bundle landed with a dull clang and you glanced down from your spot at the side of the ship where you had been watching the water race past as it sailed in the open waters.

It had been two days since Jake had revealed the curse to you, and you were still coming to terms with what you now knew.

“You have less than a year to break the curse?” You had breathed, eyes growing wider at the blond’s words as they hung in the air between the two of you.

“I can’t break the curse,” Jake responded, leaning against a stack of crates. “I have less than a year to find the treasure.”

“What’s the difference?” You huffed, shooting him a glare. He rolled his eyes, scoffing as he folded his arms over his broad chest.

“The difference,” he all but spat, “is that even if I have the treasure in my hand, the curse won’t lift until Davy Jones gives his seal of approval.”

“But how are you supposed to know that you have it? What happens if you don’t have it?”

“I imagine that’s part of the punishment, Guppy,” he sighed. “I’m left to sail the ocean for seven years looking for a treasure that could quite literally be anything, and I won’t know if I’ve succeeded until the end of those seven years when I meet him back on that beach.”

“And your crew?” You asked, crossing your own arms as you stared at him, fear clutching at your stomach and forming a pit as you thought of your brother. “How does this curse affect them?”

“That depends,” Jake answered, eyes darting to yours for a brief moment before looking away.

“On what?” You pressed, irritation clawing to the surface at his dodginess.

“On how loyal they are to me.”

“What?” You balked, head jerking back at his words.

“The more loyal a man is to me,” he sighed, scrubbing a hand over his face as he continued to pointedly look away from you, “the more the curse affects them. From the moment a man signs his name over in service to me, the curse will affect him until his time of service is up or until the curse is lifted.”

“But Bradley signed up with less than a year left,” you pointed out, words met with a heavy silence. You stared at the captain in front of you, his face giving nothing away as he stared out over the sea. The realization hit you all at once.

“You knew,” you breathed, a sinking feeling coming to rest in the pit of your stomach. “You knew that he would have to see it through to the end. He would either be free once the curse is lifted or he’d be doomed to sail with you for eternity.”

His eyes met yours then, mossy green swirling with a mixture of emotions that you couldn’t even begin to try and place. No, you were too angry. Angry at the man in front of you for tricking your brother into the possibility of eternal servitude. Angry at your brother for his casual recklessness by signing up for a crew he knew nothing about. Angry at how little time you had to fix all of it.

“You looked at me in that pub, knew how desperate I was for him to not go, and still you let him sign away his life to you,” you seethed, hot, angry tears gathering in your eyes. Jake had the decency to look ashamed by your words, but still you continued. “He’s all I have left, did you even stop to consider that? If something happens to him-”

A sob ripped its way through you, the harsh, ugly sound of your anguish jarring to your ears. Jake’s eyes widened as he watched you, and had you not been feeling like your world was crashing down around you, you might have laughed at the uneasy expression on his handsome features. Sucking in a breath in an attempt to calm yourself, you clutched at your skirt, fingers tensed so hard you feared they might freeze that way.

“If something happens to him,” you croaked, your breaths coming out in shuddering waves as you once again locked eyes with the blond in front of you, malice pouring from you with such vitriol, you saw him physically recoil away from you, “I will have nothing. Do you hear me? I will be all alone in this world, Jake Seresin. Nothing to my name and no one to call home. I will be forced to find some way to provide for myself, knowing that there was nothing I could do to save the only family I had left in this world.”

You took a step away from him, scrubbing furiously at your eyes and cheeks, desperately trying to pull yourself together.

“Guppy.”

Your eyes snapped open, head whipping towards the stairs leading to the galley. Bradley stood at the top step, a pained expression on his face as he watched you. Watched as you came to the realization that your lifeline, him, was slowly disappearing with nothing you could do to stop it. No, that wasn’t true. You just had to find the treasure that Davy Jones deemed worthy, and then this whole nightmare would be over. Jake already had his hands on the Soul of Polaris, which was as good a thing to place your trust in as any.

Sucking in a breath, you shot one last glare to Jake, noticing how he had schooled his features to show no hint of emotion.

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Captain?” You snapped, hands clenched back at your sides, venom dripping from every word. He studied you for a second more before shaking his head slowly.

“No,” he murmured, voice thicker than before. “You’re dismissed.”

Without another word, and without sparing another glance at Bradley, you stalked off towards the cabin, feeling both sets of eyes on you as you slammed the door shut behind you.

And now here you were two days later, having not talked to much of anyone save for a few clipped responses. You eyed the bundle distastefully, glancing up to see Jake shrugging off his coat, leaving him in his simple, white shirt and trousers. The top few buttons were undone on his shirt, exposing the broad expanse of his chest to the midday sun, and you tried to ignore the way you could see the hairs of his chest peeking out from behind the fabric. You would certainly never admit to how your mouth watered at the sight.

“What?” You snapped, crossing your arms as you glared at the captain. He smirked at you, green eyes twinkling as he dropped down to peel the sleeve back from the bundle. His hands wrapped around the silver hilt of a sword, the metal gleaming in the sun as he lifted it, weighing it in his hands before handing it over, the hilt side towards you.

A breeze rushed through, rippling the fabric of his shirt and revealing more skin in the process, and you could feel your cheeks heat up at the sight of more of his golden skin on display.

You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of chuckling, glaring up at the blond as he grinned lasciviously at you.

“See something you like?” He asked, a knowing gleam in his eyes as you huffed.

“Something I’d like to run through with this rapier, maybe,” you scowled, grabbing the hilt perhaps a little too forcefully.

Jake chuckled, stepping back and allowing some distance between the two of you. You stared at the sword in your hand dumbly, wondering just what exactly he wanted you to do with it. Your question was soon answered when he settled into a fighting stance, feet planted firmly on the deck while his right hand stretched out, sword pointed at you.

“What are you doing?” You asked dryly, a frown tugging at the corner of your lips as you looked at the sword in your grasp before glancing back up at him. His smirk remained steadfast as he relaxed back into a normal stance, gesturing at you with quick flicks of the metal in his hand.

“A little birdy told me that you never learned how to use a sword,” he explained, scowling slightly as he repeated the information. “That’s unacceptable from members of my crew.”

“A little birdy told you?” You repeated with a hum, eyes glancing over towards the area of the ship where you last saw Bradley. He was pointedly looking away from you, inspecting the ropes on the side of the ship, his only giveaway being the red at the tips of his ears. Looking back at Jake, you arched a brow.

“Yes, a little birdy,” he affirmed, a face of faux seriousness now stretched across his features. “It amazes me that your father never thought it wise to teach you this skill.”

“Yes, well,” you sneered, “he didn’t think it prudent that I know a great many things, as it would turn out.”

“A shame,” Jake hummed, nodding solemnly. “It’s a good thing that I’m here to rectify the situation. Imagine if word got out that the daughter of the legendary pirate captain Maverick Mitchell couldn’t even use a sword properly.”

“Legendary, huh?” You snorted, rolling your eyes with a wry smile. “Somehow I doubt that.”

Movement around you seemed to stop as the words left your lips, and you glanced around to see several members of the crew giving you odd looks. Your eyes trained back on the blond in front of you as he arched an eyebrow at you.

“You really have no idea, do you?” He hummed, chuckling at your blank expression. He took the few steps across the deck and back towards you, so close that you could feel the heat radiating off of him. “Your father is one of the most well known pirates to have ever lived. Some who fear him and others who revere him.”

“And where do you stand?” You asked him, cursing how small your voice sounded as you gazed up at him.

“Well,” he smirked, “I wasn’t on the seas long enough to fear him, so I suppose you can count me as one of his admirers.”

“Tell me about him?” You asked before you could remember the fact that you were supposed to be angry with the man in front of you. His smirk turned devilish as he looked you over from top to bottom, teeth catching his bottom lip before humming and backing up once more.

“Practice first,” he declared, shifting back into his fighting stance, arm once again outstretched towards you. “Now copy my stance.”

You eyed him, slowly moving to copy him, hoping that you were doing it right. Jake’s lips pursed as he studied you, the disapproval dashing any hopes that you had managed to copy him correctly. He let out a sigh, dropping out of the stance to walk over towards you. He circled you, stopping at your back, and you waited with bated breath. His hands slowly slid to hold your hips, causing you to nearly jump out of your skin at the unexpected contact.

“Easy, Guppy,” he chuckled, the low sound sending a shiver up your spine and heat to your cheeks.

Slowly, Jake repositioned you, and irritatingly you noticed the difference in balance as he did so.

“You want to angle your hips like this,” he murmured into your ear, his breath fanning in warm waves across your cheek. “Feel the difference?”

Not trusting yourself to speak, you gave a jerky nod, pointedly refusing to turn and meet his eyes.

“Good girl,” he hummed, lips brushing against the shell of your ear. You felt him smirk against you as you let out a gasp. His fingertips lingered on your hips for a moment before he moved to reposition your arm. Once he was satisfied, he took his spot in front of you once more.

“How’s about a deal, Guppy?” He asked, brow arching once more as he watched you. “For every hit you land on me, I’ll tell you something about your father.”

“What about when you land a hit on me?” You questioned, frowning lightly. His smirk grew as he readied himself.

“For every hit I land on you,” he drawled, lifting his sword, “I get a minute of your company.”

“That’s ridicul-”

Before you could finish, he lunged, catching you off guard and managing to land a tap at your shoulder. You blustered, staring at him with mouth agape as he smiled at you smugly.

“That doesn’t count!” You cried, glaring at him. “I wasn’t ready.”

“Rule number one of pirateering, Guppy,” he grinned, “always be prepared for the unexpected. That’s one minute of your time for me.”

You scowled at him, lunging forward with your sword, a strike he easily blocked. The clashing of metal rang out across the deck and the crew gathered to watch with growing interest.

“You’re going to have to try a lot harder than that if you want to land a blow,” he mocked, lunging forward once more. You attempted to dodge, veering right clumsily. You let out an indignant squawk as he hit your ass with the broad side of his blade, shooting him a murderous look as he laughed at you.

“That’s two minutes.”

The two of you carried on for about half an hour before you finally asked for a break. Your chest heaved with exertion, limbs and lungs burning for oxygen as you hunched over against your knees. There had been a couple of times where you could have landed a blow, but it had been too risky. The chances you had would have led to serious injury, and you weren’t keen on seriously injuring or maiming your captain just yet. Jake seemed to know what you were doing, as each time you didn’t take the shot, the smile from his face grew smaller and smaller until he was openly glaring at you.

“Again,” he commanded, whipping his blade to his side with a loud thwip as it cut through the air. “And this time act like you want to land a blow.”

“What is that supposed to mean?” You snapped, straightening up a little in indignation.

“There were twelve times where you could have landed a blow on me,” he scowled, “and you didn’t. Quit wasting opportunities to strike at me.”

“Apologies, Captain, if I’m not in the mood to take another plunge overboard for maiming you,” you sneered. Jake barked a humorless laugh, a wry smiling curling on his lips.

“Is that what this is about?” He asked, a dangerous glint in his eye. “You think you’re going to hurt me?”

You said nothing, watching him wearily as he took slow, measured steps towards you. You straightened up as he drew near, raising your sword, uncertain if he was going to strike. He paused, glancing down for a brief second before back up at you, something akin to pride sparked in his eyes before flashing back to the ire he now directed at you.

“At least you learned something,” he snickered, drawing closer, and in your uncertainty, you raised your sword higher, trying to put some distance between the two of you. His lips curled dangerously, causing your heart to race for a completely different reason now. He took another step towards you, and you pressed the tip of your sword into his stomach, cursing the small tremor in your hands.

Pausing, Jake once again glanced down at the blade before locking eyes with you. He took another step, the sharp blade piercing his skin and allowing rivulets of scarlet red to run down his golden skin in sharp contrast. You inhaled sharply as he took another step, further impaling himself on the blade. Jake let out a quiet grunt as he took yet another step, eyes never straying from yours as he did so. Finally, he stopped, and you stared with horrified fascination as the stream of blood soaked his shirt and trousers, some dripping onto the wood below him.

“Neither alive, nor dead,” he murmured, something else mixing with the anger now. “I can feel pain, but no harm will come to me while this curse ensnares my soul, Guppy.”

He reached out a hand to brush your face, and it was then that you realized that you were crying. Fingers danced across the apple of your cheek, trailing down to tilt your head back. His thumb rested on the pillow of your bottom lip, stroking slightly.

“You can’t hurt me, Guppy,” he continued, a look of solemnity now on his face as he studied you. “But things can still hurt you, and I’ll be damned if I let you continue on not being able to defend yourself.”

He stepped back, taking the sword with him as it fell from your grasp. With a hiss, he pulled it from his gut, wiping the blade down on his already ruined trousers. He glanced around at the crew, features shifting to one of annoyance before settling on cold.

“Get back to work,” he snapped, and with that the crew scurried to occupy themselves. Jake didn’t spare you another glance before stalking off towards the cabins, the door slamming shut behind him. It was the loud sound that set you in motion, whirling around to once again take purchase by the railing of the ship. You scrubbed furiously at your eyes, making a point to ignore the crew members who walked past you, shooting you sympathetic looks as they prepared to dock for the night. You settled on the railing, curling in on yourself as a figure saddled up next to you, facing the sea as the ship raced toward the shore.

“Guppy,” Bradley sighed, glancing over at you with worry clear on his face.

“What?” You mumbled miserably, refusing to meet his eyes. The two of you stayed in silence for a moment. You, wishing that you could disappear, and Bradley, waiting for you to acknowledge what happened.

“You can’t stay mad at him,” he said finally, looking back out at the water. You shot him a glare at that.

“The hell I can’t.”

“You can’t,” he said matter-of-factly. “Because he’s not the one you’re really mad at.”

“Of course I’m mad at him,” you protested, eyes shifting back to the sea. “None of this would be happening if it wasn’t for him!”

He looked back at you then, a condescending look on his face.

“Guppy,” he chided. You glanced back at him, frowning at the knowing smile on his face. “You and I both know you’re lying.”

You glared at him, pressing your face into your arms where they rested atop your knees.

“Fine,” he sighed, grasping the railing and leaning back, head tilted toward the sky. “You can pretend that he’s the one to blame, but you and I both know that the one you’re really mad at is me.”

“What?” You frowned, sitting up to look at him.

“You’re mad at me for choosing to leave,” he continued, shrugging as if it didn’t bother him. “You feel like you can’t blame me though because you think it’ll push me away and you can’t stand the thought of losing me. So instead, you focus all the anger you have for me on the next best thing, but I’m telling you, he’s not the one to blame here.”

“You want me to be mad at you?” You asked, brow furrowing in confusion. He gave a one sided shrug, peering at you past his nose.

“I want you to be honest with me about how you’re feeling,” he replied. “I want you to be mad at me if that’s what you’re feeling. It was my choice to sign up for the crew. It was my choice to leave. I made choices, Guppy, and you can’t be mad at other people for it.”

You chewed over his words silently, feeling some of the tension slip from your shoulders. Bradley gave you a soft smile, knocking his shoulder against yours.

“Anyway, he’s right,” he added, looking at you seriously. “You need to be able to protect yourself, and that’s why I picked up this at the last port.”

He reached into his pocket, pulling out a small dagger, the hilt a simple brown and the metal shining in the afternoon sun. You took it from him, eyes widening with intrigue as you inspected the gift.

“Come on, kid,” he chuckled, stepping back away from the railing and gesturing for you to follow. “We’ve got work to do.”

The pub was crowded as you sat wedged in between Bradley and Mickey, several different groups singing their own shanties off key. The room smelled of stale beer and old piss, and you inspected the mug in front of you with weary eyes. Wrinkling your nose, you pushed the glass back, eyeing the room around you. Your pub back home would never be this dirty.

“Having fun yet?” Mickey called over the roar of the crowd. You rolled your eyes, giving him a half-hearted scowl as you gestured to the people around you.

“You call this having fun?” You asked him, causing his head to tip back in laughter as his dark curls bounced around his face.

“You get used to finding amusement after years of not being able to get drunk,” he explained, shrugging good-naturedly. “Besides, best to make the most of a rotten situation, right? We all have to be here to show strength as we get new recruits.”

“Doesn’t that bother you?” You frowned. “Knowing that those men have no idea what they’re signing up for?”

“Does anyone really know what they’re signing up for?” He countered. “I mean, really, truly know. Sure you have an idea, but anything can happen when you’re out at sea.”

“I suppose that’s true,” you sighed, absentmindedly rubbing at your shoulder, the muscles still sore from your impromptu sword fighting lesson from that morning. Mickey watched you for a moment, concern shining in his eyes.

“You look like you could use some rest,” he murmured, moving to stand and catching Bradley’s attention in the process. “Why don’t I take you back to the ship?”

“You’re leaving?” Bradley asked, studying you for any signs that something might be wrong. “I’ll come with you.”

“No, no,” you said, waving them off. “You two should stay. Wouldn’t want the captain getting angry that I stole two of his men away.”

“Guppy,” Bradley started, a scowl dancing across his face. You put a hand up to stop him.

“I mean it, I’ll be fine. Besides,” you chirped, pulling out the dagger that Bradley had handed you earlier that day, “I have this. If anyone tries to mess with me, I’ll just stick this where the sun doesn’t shine.”

Bradley eyes you wearily, looking like he was going to argue, but stopped when something caught his eye. He pressed his lips together before slowly nodding.

“Yeah,” he grumbled. “Yeah, okay. Just be careful, alright?”

You gave him one last smile before pushing your way through the crowd and out into the streets.

It wasn’t surprising how quiet all seemed around you given how late it was. The only sounds to be heard coming from the pub and the neighboring brothel. You began your trek back towards the docks, relishing in the cool, night air that blew around you. Humming a tune to yourself, it was a few minutes before you noticed the sound of footsteps behind you. You slowly and carefully reached for the blade at your side, wrapping your fingers around the hilt just as fingers wrapped around your upper arm, twisting you around. You sucked in a breath of air as you moved to stab your assailant in the groin, wincing as they gripped the wrist that held the dagger, pushing you up against the nearest building. You let out a grunt as your back hit the wall, closing your eyes at the sharp pain running up your back.

“Just because you can’t kill me, doesn’t mean that it won’t hurt, sweet girl.”

Your eyes snapped open to lock onto mossy green. Jake stared down at you, an amused smirk on his face as he watched you catch up to what was happening.

“You,” you breathed, brow pinching in confusion.

“Followed you out of the pub to make sure you didn’t get into any trouble, but it took me a minute to catch up with you,” he explained, sounding bored. His hands wrapped around the hilt of the dagger, taking it out of your hand and holding it up to the lamplight. “This is cute, is this new?”

You were suddenly keenly aware of the position you found yourself in. Back pressed against the wall, Jake’s hips pinning you there as he held both of your wrists in one hand, the other still examining the blade.

“Just got it today, Captain,” you huffed, scowling up at the man in question. The corner of his lips twitched as he turned his attention back to you.

“You should be careful about how you throw that word around, pretty girl,” he smirked, twirling the knife before pressing the flat of it to the tip of your nose in a quick tap. “You’d be surprised at the kind of effect it has on a man.”

You gasped as he pressed closer, the hard planes of him settling against you as his breath washed over you. Gazing up at him, you jutted your chin out in a challenge.

“How’s that, Captain?” You pressed. Jake’s smirk grew as he dragged the knife from the tip of your nose, down across your lips and chin, over the swell of your breasts, and stopping at the string that held your shirt together. He dipped the dagger under the string, pulling quickly so that the fabric cut in one, swift motion.

“Hey!” You cried indignantly, glaring at him as he did the same to the next three strands.

“I had to ruin a perfectly good shirt today in order to teach you a lesson,” he drawled, eyeing you with a purse of his lips. “Seems only fair that I get to return the favor.”

“I think this is hardly an equal punishment,” you gritted, squirming against him as a flush of heat rose to your cheeks. Your shirt did little to cover you from any eyes that might see you in that moment, but that was a thought that twitted at the back of your mind. No, you were too focused on the way Jake’s own eyes roamed over you, hunger growing with every swipe over your exposed skin.

“Perhaps you’re right,” he murmured, eyes locking back onto yours. He leaned forward, his lips grazing yours, smirking as he pulled back slightly only for you to chase him. “But, I do have thirty minutes of your company to claim.”

His lips were on yours before you could respond, molding against yours as you moaned at his touch. His free hand dragged up your side before groping your breast through the scraps of your newly destroyed shirt. Squeezing, his tongue dove into your mouth as you gasped into him, practically devouring you whole. You arched into his touch, using your now free hands to run through his surprisingly soft, blond locks and dragging him closer to you. You were barely aware of him tucking the dagger into the band of his pants as he grabbed the back of your thighs, hoisting your legs up and around his waist.

His lips left yours then, hot open-mouthed kisses placed furiously across your jaw and down your neck. You tilted your head to the side, giving him more access that he freely used to nip and suck at the skin you offered him.

“So soft,” he breathed, nuzzling your shoulder as his right hand came up to squeeze your breast once again. “Never felt anyone so soft.”

You let out a loud cry as he gave a rather harsh bite to your shoulder, your hands tugging on the strands of his hair in a manner you were sure had to be painful.

“Make the prettiest, little noises, pretty girl,” he hummed, looking up at you long enough to see the devilish smirk that worked its way onto his handsome face. “Don’t even have you around my cock yet, and you already look this fucked out.”

“Jake,” you breathed, gasping as he pressed his hips further into you. You could feel the hard length of him through his trousers and from where your skirt had ridden up.

“You feel what you do to me?” He asked. “You’ve been doing this since the first moment I laid eyes on you. Been thinking about how tight your pussy is going to feel wrapped around me. Been fucking my hand at the very thought of you milking me dry.”

You moaned at his words, rolling your hips into his as you peppered kisses across his face. Jake closed his eyes, seeming to relish in the attention you were bestowing upon him, one hand moving around to grab your ass as the other lavished attention at your nipple. He hauled you against him, grinding you down onto the prominent bulge.

“You like the sound of that?” He murmured, ducking his head back down to your neck, biting a particularly sensitive patch of skin then quickly laving it with his tongue. “Like the sound of me filling you up? Dirty girl, I bet you love the idea that anyone could see us right now. See how you’re falling apart for me even though I’m barely touching you.”

His teeth dug into the juncture of your shoulder and neck, and your cry of pain quickly dissolved into a moan of pleasure. Jake hummed, running his nose up and down the length of your neck.

“My pretty girl likes pain, huh?” He hummed. You were too lost in the sensations of pleasure he was pulling from you to notice his hand letting go of your ass to reach for his trousers. You jumped as the cool sensation of metal once again dragged across the swell of your breasts, your eyes popping open to stare down at where Jake ran the tip of the dagger across your skin. Not hard enough to cut, but enough for you to feel the pressure.

You hissed as he pressed the tip of the blade into the skin of your left breast, the sting quickly giving way to a wave of pleasure as he placed his lips over the cut, his tongue swirling over the skin. Your head hit the wall behind you as you let out a wanton cry of pleasure, feeling Jake smirk against you.

“My dirty girl likes that, huh?” He crooned, tossing the dagger to the ground and using the same hand to wrap in your hair as he forced you to look at him. He ground his bulge into your beating core, moaning at the heat radiating off of you as he crashed his lips to yours.

“Such a good girl for me, Guppy,” he moaned as he pulled away, bringing his right hand up from your breast. His thumb rested on your bottom lip before pushing the tip into your mouth. You suckled at it on instinct, never breaking eye contact as he groaned at the feel of your tongue laving over the digit.

“Fuck,” he hissed, picking up his pace. You let out quiet cries as the coil in your abdomen began to tighten, Fingers falling to his shoulders and leaving angry, red welts in their wake.

“That’s it,” he groaned, rutting into you. “Mark me, sweet girl. Show everyone who I belong to. Wanna wear your marks for days.”

You sucked harder at his thumb as you attempted to meet his thrusts, chest heaving with exertion. Jake saw the look on your face, taking his thumb out of your mouth to push your hair back.

“Come on, Guppy,” he crooned, losing himself in the sensations of you as he chased both of your highs. “Be a good girl for me, yeah? I can see how close you are, can practically feel your pretty little cunt fluttering against me. Can’t wait to be buried balls deep inside of you, feel you squeezing around me. Feel me leaking out of you. I’s okay though, I’d just push it back into you, and then I’d fill you up again and again until you’re swelling with me.”

You moaned at his words, jerking when a particularly hard thrust hit the sensitive nub at the juncture of your thighs, sending you over the edge with a loud cry. Jake thrust against you a few more times before stilling, sinking his teeth into the skin of your neck as he panted his release.

His hands rested on your thighs, smoothing up and down the exposed skin in gentle strokes as the two of you calmed down. Your hands ran through his hair gently, humming your content as you placed soft kisses to his temple.

“I’m sorry.”

Your brow furrowed as you glanced down at him, fingers stilling in his hair.

“For what?” You asked. His fingers stilled at your hips, gripping a little tighter as he stayed wrapped in your embrace.

“For all of it,” he whispered, pressing his face tighter to you. “For being an ass. For tricking Bradley into signing. For not saying something sooner about the curse. For being the reason you might be all alone.”

He trailed off near the end, and for a minute, neither of you said anything. Instead, you scratched the back of his head, earning a contented hum that almost sounded like a purr. Sighing, you rested your cheek against the top of his head, holding him closer.

“Bradley made his own choices,” you whispered, closing your eyes.

A/N: I don't think this is my best smut, which is disappointing considering this was supposed to be alley scene 2.0, but alas, it is what it is. As always, reblogs and comments are greatly appreciated! You can also find my works on AO3 under the username sailor_aviator.

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professionalfanatic · 3 months

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It's been two hundred years since Magnus Bane lost his husband. Two hundred years since he'd lost the love of his life, Alexander Gideon Lightwood.

Magnus stood, looking out at the starry lights of the busy New York City. The streets were brimming with life, and the sounds were deafening as always. The horns of the cars, the screeches of the brakes, the low hum of people talking, they were all just the same as they had been two hundred years ago.

Strange how everything had changed and remained unchanged at the same time.

Magnus cradled his half filled wine glass lovingly. Once upon a time he would have done that to Alec's face, and would have pressed a kiss to his forehead. But now Alec was gone.

He looked down at the letter on the table. He wanted to read it, and throw it away, both at the same time. Magnus closed his eyes, feeling the familiar prickling behind his eyes. He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood.

Did he have the courage to read the last letter Alec had left him?

Before Alec had died, he'd given Magnus a huge bundle of letters. He'd been on his deathbed at the time, the Brothers having declared that there was nothing they could do to save Alec's life. Alec had smiled at Magnus, and had told him to open the second drawer of his bedside cabinet. Once Magnus had discovered the letters there, Alec had whispered that he hoped the letters to help. And then he had closed his beautiful blue eyes forever, leaving Magnus with a bundle of letters and a lifetime of wonderful memories.

He'd gone, leaving Magnus to grieve for eternity.

Magnus's throat burned, and he inhaled sharply. Alec's death still hurt like a sword stabbed through his heart.

He'd read the first letter, the one with the simple sentence on the envelope saying when you miss me.

He had been missing Alec so much that he had been almost suffocating with the pain. His heart had been aching, as if someone was twisting the invisible knife in his chest. He was almost gasping for breath and he wanted nothing more than to die, to end this numbing pain.

And then he'd read Alec's letter.

" My dear,

My own Magnus, " it had read, "This letter is for you when you miss me. Miss me dreadfully.

Your heart must be wrenching with pain, and it must be difficult for you to breathe. The pain must be intense, and you'd surely be wanting to die, and just end everything. That's what I felt when Jace died.

But, Magnus, I haven't left you. I'm still here, I'm still here with you. And do you know how you could see me? Close your eyes, Magnus, and whisper my name. You'll see me then. Because you see, I didn’t leave you. I'm still alive, in your heart, and in all the memories we made together. "

At the end of the letter Magnus had sobbed his heart out, clutching the letter so hard that it had ripped in half. His heart felt as if it had splintered into a million smithereens.

But he had felt a little better. The ache of not seeing Alec would never go away, but it had lessened. Enough for him to go on living at least.

And the letters had helped. Alec had written one for every occasion.

He'd written one for when Magnus is so angry he wanted to burn the world down. A letter filled with the soothing love which always made Magnus calm down. Magnus thought he heard Alec's soft voice when he read it, easing his boiling anger, just how a lullaby would comfort a toddler.

Alec had written one for when he is so sad that he couldn’t function. When he fell into a black hole and couldn’t find his way out at all. Alec's letter cheered him just the way Alec had always did. How he always reminded him that there were always good things in this world.

And there was another letter. A letter full of reassurance when Magnus depreciated himself, hated everything about his existence. Hated his demon eyes, hated his magic, and felt that no one could ever love a filthy Downworlder like him. Alec swept those misgivings away with his loving and caring letter, just like he'd done when he had been alive.

Another one for the time he'd first smiled after Alec's death. He'd seeked comfort in Alec's letter after feeling unbelievably guilty for enjoying something without Alec. For being happy without his Alec. Being happy after the man he loved died. Alec's letter filled with joy and laughter lighted up Magnus's bleak life.

And so the letters had gone on.

Magnus had read them over the past two centuries, reminding himself again and again as to why he'd fallen in love with the blue eyed Shadowhunter.

But when he'd woken up that morning, he had closed his eyes, and had tried to imagine his Alec, he hadn't been able to. He still lived in his heart, but the image wasn't clear. It was hazy, a sort of warm feeling you keep close to your heart. You remember the gist, but the fine details have faded.

Magnus remembered how Alec had laughed when he was with Jace and Isabelle, but he couldn’t clearly recall how deep his laugh was. He knew Alec smelled wonderful, but what he exactly smelled like, he couldn’t bring to memory. He knew he loved the way Alec kissed him, but he couldn’t remember exactly how Alec did so. Whether he leaned in first, or stroked a thumb across his cheek first. He knew Alec tasted sweet, but like what, he didn’t remember.

And he knew Alec had the bluest eyes possible, bluer than the ocean, than the sky, and even more than his magic, but Magnus couldn’t remember the exact shade.

He had sat on his bed, shocked and shaken to the core, scared that if he would forget these details, small ones, yes, but the ones which made Alec, well, Alec, he'd forget something else. Something important. And, this hurt him more than anything, that Alec would finally fade into a distant memory, a warm and welcome one he'd think only on his hard days.

And Alec, his dear sweet Alec, he knew that this would happen eventually. So he'd left a letter, his very last letter addressed with a simple when you forget the exact shade of my eyes.

Magnus had never really believed that he'd forget Alec's eyes. Their exact colour and shape. He had believed himself to have a better memory, that he'd remember those gems which had attracted him to Alec in the first place. But he'd forgotten. It had taken him two hundred years, but yes. He'd forgotten.

Taking a deep breathe, Magnus took the letter with shaking hands. He ran a light finger over the cursive writing on the envelope, reliving the way Alec looped his ys with a sad smile. He tore open the envelope and pulled the letter out, a much bigger one than the others, and began to read it.

Magnus had expected it to be a letter with sad reproachings. But he was wrong, of course he was wrong. How could he have thought that his Alec would ever even think of hurting him?

Alec's letter was filled with joy, happiness and warmth, just like him. Magnus felt his lips tugging into a teary smile seeing the pictures Alec had enclosed in his letter. The first one they'd taken together as a couple. Alec was clutching Magnus's hand with a determined smile, a glint in those blue eyes of his, challenging anyone who'd dare say anything against him. Magnus had been incredibly proud of Alec, his boyfriend for standing up against all the prejudices of the Nephilium.

The next picture was the one they'd taken in India. The one where Magnus had worn a saree. Alec had laughed so hard that tears had escaped from his eyes. He had looked at Magnus, his blue eyes crinkled and his mouth open in a little gasp. He had looked absolutely stunning, and for the first time in centuries Magnus had felt his heart skip a beat. And that had been the moment he had realised that there was no going back. He'd fallen for this man so hard that he hadn't realised it until he hit rock bottom.

Magnus choked back a sob when he looked at the picture of them cuddling Max together. Alec was holding him close to his chest, caring for their most precious treasure. Max was smiling up at Alec, waving his tiny blue arms. Alec's eyes were filled with the warmth and wonder at seeing Max, their Max, their baby smile at him.

And then all that was left was the last picture. With trembling hands Magnus picked it up and stared at it.

It was a picture of their wedding.

Underneath it, Alec had written one small sentence.

The happiest day of my life.

Magnus stared at it until he couldn’t see clearly, making him realise that tears were flowing from his eyes.

Alec.

His husband Alec.

Magnus remembered how nervous Alec had been when he'd proposed to him. He had twisted and turned his hands so much that Magnus had been afraid of him actually breaking a bone. He'd bitten his lip, drawing blood, and had let out a series of shaky breaths.

But when he'd finally pushed the question forward, Magnus had searched Alec's eyes, and those blue orbs had shone with nothing but certainty and conviction.

It had taken Magnus less than a second to say yes.

And the wedding, Magnus looked at the picture, looking at how handsome Alec was, wearing a black tuxedo with gold and blue lining. Gold to symbolise Nephilium, and blue for Magnus's warlock lineage.

The wedding of the century, they'd called it. The union of a Nephilium and a Downworlder, of an Angel and Demon, but above all, the union of two souls who loved each other with all their hearts.

As a tear slipped down his cheek, Magnus read the last part of Alec's letter.

And one day, again, you'll fall for someone else. Love someone with that beautiful heart of yours. And that should happen, Magnus. For you're an extraordinary man, and it has always been my greatest privilege and joy to love and to be loved by a man like you. The best gift Raziel ever bestowed on me.

And when you fall for someone else, love another, give them your entire heart. Fall in love again, and again, and never close of your heart.

Don't fear betraying me, love, and never think our story will be forgotten. It shall forever be written in the stars, and most importantly your heart.

I'm happy to have been part of your life, Magnus.

Tear drops decorated the letter when Magnus finished reading. Drawing a trembling breathe in, he collected all the letters Alec had ever left him, and cuddled them to his chest, pretending that it was Alec he was holding close to him. And in a way, he was. Alec had poured his entire soul into those letter.

Of course their story would forever be remembered. Even when Alec faded into a distant memory, a warm yet unreachable one, he'd live forever in Magnus's heart.

After all, how could he forget the man who taught him to love again?

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My first ever fanfic! Wrote this when I was obsessed with Malec. Just some thoughts of Magnus after Alec's death. :)

#malec fanfic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #shadowhunters #cassandra clare #wrote this cause i wanted to be sad #mialovesbl #angst #character death #sad #fanfic #ao3

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mawofthemagnetar · 6 months

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So I was thinking about NameMC...

And this ensued. I may expand on this, we'll see.

“Oh, not again!” Impulse moaned.

Zed opened his mouth to ask what was happening, when the air in front of both of them shimmered. A four-bladed drone popped out of the walls between the worlds, and swiped a blue scanner beam over Impulse from head to toe. Before either hermit could react, the drone dove back into the crack in the air and vanished.

Impulse buried his face in his hands.

“I’m so tired of this, Zed. Just sick to death. I changed my shirt. So what?”

Zed nodded, leaning back on the rock he’d found. Impulse had indeed changed out of his dwarf costume and back into his familiar black t-shirt and cargo shorts. Impulse flicked his tail irritably, the yellow spines just below the surface sticking up just slightly in annoyance.

Zed swallowed, leaning back against the boulder at spawn.

“…I mean, isn’t that…doesn’t this happen to everyone?” Zed said cautiously, “you change your shirt, the drones pop out and scan you, and they go away again. Mate, you know as well as I do-“

“But- why?!” Impulse protested, “Here, look. Open your comm. Go to the index.”

Zed rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, I know, I know. The MC Lookbook. I know! You know I had people wearing my Ezed Kenized getup the day after I finished sewing it!...actually, hold on. On further reflection, you’ve got a point.”

Impulse flapped his wings irritably.

“Look, dude, I’m just. This is so frustrating. Is this even right? Like-“

A shout cut the air, and both men jerked their heads up.

“GET AWAY FROM ME!” Cleo yelled, swinging her sword at a nearby drone, “THAT’S TOO BLOODY CLOSE!”

She’d changed out of her blue evening dress into the sportier getup she liked for the Life games, and Zed smiled sympathetically as the drone vanished into thin air.

“I just- like- is this okay?” Impulse asked slowly, “Are the people sending these things out- Like, I know, I know, I know it’s harmless. It’s just collecting stuff for the lookbook. I get it. But…”

“-but the drones once jumped Skizz as he was stepping out of a hot tub?” Zed snickered.

Impulse shuddered.

“Yeah. How do you think that red speedo ended up all over…you know what, nevermind.”

They both sighed, and Zed shook his head.

“Someday, I want to get a whole bunch of shirts.” Zed said slowly, “A whole bunch of jumpers, like this one. In all different colours, and then I’ll wear a different colour every day of the week. Not just a pile of forty brown jumpers like this one.”

“I want to wear black cargo shorts.” Impulse blurted out, “And I want to wear a wristwatch.”

They both fell silent.

Impulse glanced over at Zed, and a stab of fear lanced through his heart.

“…Zed? You’ve got that look on your face. I don’t like that look.”

“Hmm? Oh, nothing, nothing. I wasn’t thinking about anything. Well, maybe a few things. But anyway, enough about me! You! And Tango, but he’s still getting out of Decked Out. You two have fun with your silly traffic, you hear me?”

“Traff- oh. Yeah, I’ll have fun, don’t worry.” Impulse beamed, “I’ll be back after we’re done today’s game. It’s only like, three hours, Zed.”

Zed shook his head.

“Yeah, I know, but still. Be careful. Ren came back off his rocker awhile ago. Or was that something else? You know what, nevermind.”

Impulse chuckled, and an alarm went off on his comm.

“Alright, Well, nice chatting with you, Zed. Anyway, I gotta go.”

And with that, he selected the option to leave the server, and vanished.

Zed stroked his chin, and slid off the boulder he was sitting on. This was giving him…ideas.

#magnetar writes #IDK I had some thoughts about stuff #this is likely a little incoherent but I may expand on it if there's interest #call this the Fashion Police AU

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gayandfairycore · 1 month

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Just hold me

Summary: y/n pendragon, is well protected by the knights of the round table and her big brother but when they’re ambushed in the woods and the capable princess is hurt, Gwaine comes to her rescue. But is he too late to save her?

A/n: I love my Irish husband!! gwaines one of my absolute favourites, I Also couldn’t resist making him reader’s bodyguard ahh so cute!! Princess x bodyguard trope or well Princess x knight. I swear it does end in fluff (nothings ever permanent) Also c/h/n means childhood nickname.

Warning: blood, fighting, reader stabs people, readers kinda savage, until she gets owned, angst, major character death, gwaines a little ooc, grammar mistakes.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

The, cool breeze of the forest blew through your hair as the horses continued their trot through the woods neighbouring Camelot, your friends hyper aware of every sound, of every creak in the trees, that blew the leaves. They were wary of every rustling of breeze, and every old muddy footprint.

Everyone on edge since morgana turned a new leaf, and decided her siblings were her enemy and the crown was her life’s purpose, it made a heavy sadness linger in your heart. A great deal of dread that made your skin itch.

Your e/c eyes observed the surroundings, Arthur infront, Merlin beside him, you behind Merlin Gwaine next to you, and the rest of the knights littered all around you all in a protective circle, so that if your sister crawled out from the wood work and decided to attack you they would be ready. And prepared for a fight with the witch.

Out of the both of you Arthur had been taking her betrayal harder than you, he had been sulking in his room with Merlin more than usual and the loss of your father, it was a wound too fresh for the man.

From morganas betrayal, to uthers death, magic seemingly left only destruction in its wake, and Arthur’s life felt like it was falling apart. you were Arthur’s only hope.

the only one he had still on his side. still alive. If the boy was protective before he became even more protective after your sisters betrayal, so protective he assigned gwaine as your personal knight.

Smooth talking, drunk, sticks his hands in beehives, Beautiful, talented, quick witted, gwaine. You never wanted a personal guard but he was talented with a sword, and it helped he looked good in the uniform. So you weren’t too angry at your brother thinking you needed protection, you were fully capable of course you’d been sparing with Arthur since you were kids and beating him for just as long.

But no matter your skills you were defenceless against your sisters magic. everyone was.

You let out a nervous breath at the thought, the hairs on the back of your neck started to stand up your purple velvet cape obscuring your face but still you felt bare, like there were eyes on you.

Whirling your head around your eyes bore into the wooded bush a few meters away looking for any movement or any sign of life, you observed the bush with narrow eyes, paranoid.

“Are you alright Princess?” gwaine asked his horse matching your pace beside you, as he leaned to your ear, his hot breath fanning your face as he whispered. His brown eyes staring protectively at you.

“Hm? oh- yes fine…” you trailed off eyes never leaving the trees, your heart dropped to your stomach as you gripped the reigns tightly in your hands the leather straps rough against your skin as you squeezed tightly.

your twin daggers strapped to your hips, their weight giving you a sense of comfort as your brain started to catastrophize.

“You don’t look alright.” Gwaine pressed, his eyes flickering over your face protectively, You could tell he didn’t believe a thing you said. Ignoring the fluttering in your chest you couldn’t stop looking at the woods around you something felt off.

“There’s nothing there, princess.” The man reassured his voice stern but gentle, his hand placed over yours on the reigns. And his comforting hands over yours made you release your bruising grip on the reigns.

“I know, I just have…a bad feeling.” You murmur, your eyes swimming with worry a mix of familiar paranoia, and intuition.

gwaine was inclined to believe you and your bad feeling when he caught sight of a dark figure hidden behind trees.

The man had been hiding his own unsettling feeling since the moment your group ventured further into the forest, but Arthur appeared unaware of his sister, and her guards paranoia as he commanded the group, “we’ll stop here, let the horses rest.”

Arthur always had a voice that seemingly echoed even if he didn’t want it too, and by his tone of voice he wasn’t taking no for an answer.

Your eyes locked with Gwaines and it appeared the man didn’t have enough energy to mask his emotions this time. Anxiety was present in his eyes. A wave of nausea washed over you.

As Arthur lead the seven of you to a small grassed area surrounded by trees a small stream only a few steps away the soft continuous flow of water hid the shakiness of your breaths as you shrugged your leg over your stallion, your leg leaving his stirrup as you hit the floor, Gwaine already circling around to you his reigns in hand as you lead your horses to the river.

“I have a bad feeling still. and I know you do too. Do not lie to me gwaine.” You pleaded to the man as you lead your horse to the stream and your hands run over your horses back as he drinks beside you. The cool breeze blowing under your cape.

“Please, Princess. I don’t want to worry you.” Gwaine eventually says his gaze lowered onto the stream at your feet.

“Please gwaine, you know nothing scares me.” You tease bumping his arm with yours but your voice betrays you it shakes as you speaks. you had lied to him you were scared. who wouldn’t be, you may have had the knights of Camelot to guard you but it would do nothing if you were caught by surprised and surrounded. Which was easier to do the longer you waited.

Gwaines gloved hand came out to hold yours in a tight grip, “nothing will happen to you princess I swear.” The dark haired man promises his dark eyes stern with promise.

Before you could reply to the man the whiz of an arrow souring past your head and shouts of your friends alert you to your fears and you whip your head up quickly looking into the trees around you, a large group of 60 men clad in dark clothes surrounded you.

Bandits working for morgana, great.

Sharing a look with Gwaine the man draws his sword and a smug smile graces his lips at the idea of a fight and you can’t help but think he looks really hot but the fight around you snaps you from your daydream and alerts you to pull your daggers from their sheaths.

And they glint dangerously in the light the shouts of your friends in your makeshift camp only a few few feet away, fades into nothingness far too focused on yourself and gwaine to worry for your friends. They had more knights than you and Gwaine did.

But by the sheer volume of bandits around, you and gwaine began to realise just how much trouble you’re really in. gravitating toward eachother you stood back to back as the leering bandits drew closer.

“Stay close Princess I’ll take majority. if they come at you, you know what to do?” Gwaine asked his sword out infront of him protectively

“Kill em?” You look up at the man with a tilt of your head a mischievous look in your eyes and the knight beside you laughs

“Yeah, kill em.” The raven haired man looks at you with a smug, slightly proud smirk on his face and he gentle elbows you to focus,

So you Hold up your daggers to protect your face an equally smug smile draws across your lips and in a blink of an eye the fight begins.

the silver sword of one man goes to come down on you and you parry it with ease holding it away from you as you slash across his chest with your other dagger, as his body leans to the side you plunge your weapon into his chest his blood staining your silver blade, and you watch in morbid curiosity as the man groans and he falls to the forest floor dead.

You don’t bat an eye at the corpse, Instead you find yourself ducking a long sword from another bandit as the whiz of arrows fly around you, you can’t see Gwaine in your periphery too busy avoiding the large man infront of you as he stalks toward you. no matter your height he seems to be giant.

“You’re going to die little dragon.” He laughs his voice like charcoal and his sword held easily in his hands

“No. I’m not.” You sneer spinning your dagger in your hand and planting your feet into the mud more as he goes to slash at your torso you leap backwards out of the way, he’s as slow as he is big but the power of his hits shake the very earth beneath your feet.

And what’s worse his powerful hits are full of accuracy, as he whirls around to hit you again and both daggers go to hold him off, the sounds of your blades grinding together hurts your ears and you grind your teeth determined to not die by this giant.

pushing his sword to the ground you surge forward planting your dagger into an artery by his leg in retaliation the giants blade comes towards you at full force his swing takes you off guard and you narrowly miss his blow that was meant to sever your head from your neck. and in doing so you don’t pay attention to the pain that lands itself in your shoulder.

The adrenaline masks any pain, but you’re angry now the smug smile of the bandit infront of you angers you so much you take your dagger in your hand and fling it into the eye of the giant Infront of you and the sharpness of your dagger embeds itself into his eye socket. His eye makes a horrid squish as blood and juices squirt. And the man drops dead beside you. Bus long sword falling beside him.

You sneer and grab your dagger from his eye and as you pull it from the socket more blood squirts, you exclaim in disgust as his blood stains your face

An angry shout from a small dirty blonde bandit fills the air as he makes quick action toward you his battle cry falling on deaf ears and you go to throw your dagger, gwaine beats you too it his sword lacerate the man’s throat and he falls dead easily.

Breathing a sigh of relief you look to the brunette knight and he nods in respect before going to fight more of the approaching bandits.

The sound of twigs breaking behind you urge you to duck and you narrowly miss a sword meant for your head instead you grab the man’s arm and fling him over you as he hits the ground with a groan, he lays underneath you as you prepare to plunge your dagger in his chest. his legs sweep yours and you too end up on your back beside the man and your weapon lays just out of reach as the man crawls ontop of you.

His hands grip your throat tightly and your eyes blow wide in panic as your claw at his hands it’s useless so your fingers vacate to his face and your fingers lodge into his eye sockets as his grip on your throat tightens

“Come on!” Your mind screams at you as blackness swims in your vision before a sword lodges through the man’s chest and drenches you in his blood Gwaine is there standing above you as he watches you cough desperate for air. His eyes filled with worry as he gives you his hand helping you to your feet as you continue to wheeze lungs screaming for air.

“Are you alright princess?!” His hands grip your biceps as he pulls you to his chest hands holding the back of your head in worry

“I’m fine, pretty boy. Thanks for saving me.” You nod at the man but your hands shake as gwaine hands you your discarded weapons the daggers bring you comfort as you look at the world around you still there are more bandits around you but it appears many have dissipated.

Whether they have retreated, or they’ve gone to cause your friends havoc you aren’t sure but you can’t find yourself to worry for your friends. You’re too busy looking into gwaines chocolate brown eyes, and you can’t help but place a kiss to gwaines cheek when you pull back from his bearded face you catch sight of an approaching man.

“DUCK!” You scream and the knight ducks just in time. You quickly bring one of your dagger to block their sword as they manoeuvre their blade back and then you both fall into a kind of deadly dance pushing further and further away from Gwaine. Your blades mash against each other and you continue to miss his slashes and jabs.

The bandit moves his sword quickly, too quick to dodge and he manages to cut off a piece of your hair and slice your cheek your blood begins to trickle down your face and in anger you jam your dagger through his leather armour and directly into the man’s heart.

His blade falls from his hold and he drops limply. His eyes glare at you the entire time his body fails him. The body collapses onto the bottom of you cape staining the purple darker with blood and you make the decision to cut the latch dropping your cloak so that nothing holds you down.

Your tunic, and pants cling to your body tightly stained with the blood of your enemies, you don’t care not about the bodies littering the forest floor, or the wetness in your boot from stepping through the stream for better ground to fight on. Not about your friends and if they’re fighting an onslaught of bandits. All you care about is not dying.

The volume of men have dipped significantly but there are still 4 or 5 of them and one man left is an archer quickly loading his bow and releasing the arrows at yourself and Gwaine, if you two were worse fighters he would’ve loaded quite a few into the pair of you marching toward the man you hold your daggers outward crimson blood drops from the tip and soaks quickly into the squishy mud ridden forest floor. The bandit quickly loads an arrow and lets it fly, you avoid his shot with ease ducking beneath it he knocks another and fires it in quick succession and you find yourself skidding against the mud it coats your pants as you miss his fire and the man is panicked now as you stand up,

And you watch his hands shake as he tries to load his bow, it’s too late, you’re on top of the man. “Please! Please your grace, Spare me. I have children! please” He whimpers beneath you and your heart aches in your chest

As your eyes rake the man’s figure you make the decision to hit him over the head with the butt of your dagger and you don’t spare the man another glance before you walk away.

Turning your back to the archer you observe the carnage, Gwaine had gotten quite a few bandits defeated in quick time, the man now intense fight with probably the best bandit here. he’s quick, and talented with a sword.

But Gwaine keeps his own, and you deem it safe enough to not watch the man anymore instead you find yourself up against the final man he’s large like the man you fought before, but this man is smart.

And his dagger drips with something other than blood, a deep blue, oozing liquid? poison. You quickly realise

And now you’re sure you never want to let this man’s weapon touch you. his stinking grey teeth peak through his lips as he sizes you up, the princess of Camelot, clearly exhausted. Clearly covered in a mix of blood and mud, and very obviously in pain. The giants sword from before had managed to rattle your teeth with his hit but you’d been so distracted it hadn’t even registered. clearly the adrenaline of your other injuries had began to wear off.

And This man is quicker then expected as he hurries to you, his sword cuts through the air like butter and he’s clearly just as skilled as the man battling against gwaine. And looking back on it they seemed to be twins.

the moment his blade comes too close for comfort you’re parrying his strike, and the grinding of blades are deafening in your ears.

the ache in your shoulder swells through you the gruesome cut oozing and it makes your strength falter you move slower the burning pain shooting through your shoulder sends you waves of more then just discomfort.

you feel bile well in your throat but you don’t falter as you slash at the bandit he avoids it with ease, every duck, every twirl, every slice, he avoids.

It’s like he’s been watching you? observing your moves? and it’s abundantly clear even with the exhaustion plaguing your muscles and the slick mud beneath you. It makes you worried.

Springing back away from the man you slash at his shoulder nicking him with the blade and watching as he cringes back in more annoyance than pain. and when his sword goes to make contact with your body you duck away from the man until eventually you find yourself behind him

just when things began to look up, just when you were finally winning.

Until The pained shout from gwaine only a few feet away causes you to lose focus and your gaze is set on the Irish man on the floor his chain mail dirty, his face covered in blood and mud, his hair a mess, and a sword held above the man. In a deadly fashion.

And your body moves before your mind and you find yourself flinging your dagger into the bandits back watching satisfied as the man falls dead over the top of gwaine, letting out a sigh of relief at the sight you completely forget that you were mid fight with a bandit yourself. A bandit with a blade coated in poison.

“Y/n!” Before you can get your bearings in order gwaines shouting Your name

And you turn just in time to see the man drive his sword in your side and you whip your head up to look at the man who just stabbed you a horrid smile on his face, as the sharp searing pain of a sword impaling you burns your insides. your warm blood trickles from the wound around the sword, and you drop your spare dagger to the floor unconsciously you seemingly have no control of your body, and your eyes shine with unshead tears. It’s the worst pain you’ve ever felt in your entire life like the world is spinning and your side feels like it’s on fire.

The man stand carelessly above you smiling a sickly smile as he rips his blade out of you and you don’t muffle your shout of pain, you know you’re going to die when the man brings his sword up to cut you down and your tears fall you can’t bare to look at his face your mind filling with thoughts of gwaine if you were going to die you’d die with the man you loved on your mind.

Shutting your eyes tightly you expect the killing blow, only to feel nothing? Cracking an eye open Gwaine’s sword embeds itself directly in the bandits heart, you watch as gwaine pulls his sword out quickly and rushes to your aid as he watches your knees buckle. And you don’t go to stop your knees from colliding with the mud instead your shaky hands go to hold your bleeding wound, your hand immediately stain with blood when they come into contact with the wound.

Gwaine Holds your bloody form in his arms your hands stained with your blood you feel sick to your stomach, and sweat begins to break on your forehead, you feel like you’re already losing feeling in your feet.

As Gwaines strong arms wrap around you as the knight lifts you up against him, his arms around your knees and shoulders respectively.

He moves quickly to the rest of the knights, and despite the delirius state you’re in from the lack of blood you can only heart your heart beat in your ears but everytime he runs you see a glimpse of his face and you can see he’s screaming.

Your heart constricts in your chest and you whimper in his arms “j-just hold me.”

the man looks down at you with eyes full of tears and that shine with something akin to love. But almost as quickly as the shine came its gone, replaced with fear. It makes Gwaine tighten his grip on you and scream louder

And through the blurriness of your vision you see your brothers scared face break the tree line and b-line to you, as your head lulls to the side you watch Arthur get closer to you and you feel him take you in his arms, sobs escape the young kings as he slumps to his knees you in his embrace “y/n- c/h/n, please don’t do this to me.”

Arthur mutters rocking you back and forth and you see Merlin over his shoulder, face white as a ghost. Hands tightly held over his mouth, and the last thing you see is the servant boy boss the knights around with commands about how to help you, before the darkness takes you.

𓍊𓋼𓍊𓋼𓍊

There’s a guttural ache in your bones from the fight and a dull burning from your stomach it’s accompanied with a hard pressure on your wound that makes you yell out a sickening blood curdling scream and by the feeling of multiple hands holding you down to stop the thrashing it’s abundantly clear Merlin’s trying his best to save you.

Your brothers hands are familiar as they grip your shoulders, holding you down, you’re alive, mentally you’re awake but you can’t open your eyes.

You can’t control your own twitching body, the wet feeling of your sticky blood on your side, but you can hear every little thing around you, and yet you still can’t open your eyes and there’s this horrible wheezing sound.

And you come to realise it’s your breathing…it feels like you’re breathing through sand and every breath you take fills your lungs with sand like an hour glass.

and then you feel that familiar pressure on your wound and suddenly you feel everything, every burning stabbing sensation, all over your body it burns as quickly and as hot as a wild fire and it feels like hours before you finally feel absolutely nothing again.

And you think maybe it lasts for awhile, but there’s no way to tell time. It’s funny when you can see nothing but the back of your eyelids and the world is dark and you can’t feel the muddy floor beneath your back. you can’t feel the sticks, and the dirt, and the sound of the stream, you can’t smell your brothers familiar scent, you can’t feel the wetness of your boot, or the dried blood on your body, and you can’t see gwaines face.

Or hear his comforting voice, you can’t discern anything but blankness and you half think you’ve stopped breathing. As if your very lungs don’t heave against the poison in your blood stream anymore

But you think whilst you’re trapped in darkness that Your nose bleeds, and your mouth fills with red blood and those who surround your body begin to realise how dire every second is.

Merlin is the only one who can save you. He’s the only one who can rip deaths cold hands from your body and ground you to earth. your chest doesn’t rise.

and those around you know you’re dead. And you can’t feel it yourself, like your spirit is lifting from the cage that is your body up into the sky, ripping through you and part of you is ready to go.

But Gwaine and Merlin will not allow it, Gwaine drops beside your body his hands pumping your chest to start your heart and his lips are on yours pumping oxygen into your lungs.

and it gives Merlin enough time to mutter a healing spell his eyes glow gold and its mere moments that your translucent spirit ripping from your vessel slams back into your body.

Gwaine still continues his assault on your ribs breathing air into your lungs, he ignores the metallic taste from your lips, and he pleads with every god he can that you will come back to him.

And it’s almost as if the gods deem him worthy.

And you wake up gasping for air springing up from your brothers hold your eyes snapping open your chest heaves with effort to fill your lungs and your heart beat is sluggish before beating hard and strong against your chest.

And Merlin’s hands are on your side checking your wound the gaping hole sealed, and Your wound is practically gone. The servant boy quickly bandages your side before anyone can notice but his bandages

Can’t hide the gross greeny purple tendrils that peak out from the off white plaster. Your side feels clean but the blood still sticks to your face and the pain in your side and shoulder still lingers but you can’t bring yourself to care when gwaine gently takes you from your brothers embrace and hold you so gently against him.

“Oh Princess, never do that to me again.” His calloused hands hold you against him tightly and he tries to mask their shaking.

But you don’t care pulling back from his holds Your eyes take his figure and you can’t help yourself, You smash your lips against his and his beard tickles your skin. and it takes him no time to kiss back his lips mash against yours in a feverish kiss. It’s like your lips fit together perfectly and you find yourself wishing to never let go of the knight in front of you.

His tears fall onto your skin and you don’t care, you pull him closer to your body and you don’t care when your lungs burn screaming for air.

You never want to be apart from him.

Not when you just tasted the sour nothingness of death. It doesn’t wait. It’s cold, and uncaring.

And Gwaine feels your hands shake as you pull him closer his heart physically hurts for you he’s sure you’re probably freaking out.

After you pull back from your kisses you look at the faces of your friends around you, Arthur’s blood shot eyes filled with tears stare at you with such fear, such uncertainty.

the ghostly look in his eyes as he looks at you tugs your heart strings. You realise he can’t differentiate if you’re truly here. And alive he had just seen his sister die. And be brought back.

Of course it would be a lot to process.

beside you Merlin his shaky hands and nervous smile his red hands stained with your blood, and his wet teary face that looks so scared as he looks at you with a mixture of nervousness at the use of his magic and happiness you’re alive.

And your eyes flicker to everyone around you from Leon, who you’ve known since childhood- to elyan, and Percival. who you haven’t known for such a long time but still felt their world shake when your heart stopped beating. You were their princess to see you die in front of them…it was heavy.

Your dead body would haunt them for the rest of their days,the cold desolate blue of your lips and the way your head lulled in gwaines arms.

Tears littered everyone’s eyes as your brother and Gwaine were the first to pull you into an embrace the rest of your friends quickly followed, their iron grip on you brought you so much love and peace.

A chorus of “I’m glad you’re alive” to “good to have you back” ranged from your friends before elyan was the first person to suggest moving to a safer area the unsettling feeling of the corpses scattered around you all made you uneasy, it especially made Gwaine the most uneasy, the man couldn’t stop his intrusive thoughts what if it was you they were leaving behind? What if you died and your corpse was left to decay on the muddy floor of the forest no one around to mourn you it made him feel a bit unwell.

So finally you all high tailed it out of there to a new camp well maned by your friends, a camp where absolutely no one could ambush you. Where it was safe enough for Merlin to patch up your friends injuries.

And night fell quickly the stars shone overhead the green grass served as a pillow under your head and the rocks surrounding you like a barrier from bandits.the ruins of an old castle like a comforting shield and The slight hill you all now camped on was far out of the forest of the rival kingdom where you all were ambushed, finally on safe ground.

Merlin had stayed close to you for most of the early evening to ensure you were alright. And that he didn’t seal up any left over poison.

Crickets chirped in the back ground as yourself and Merlin sat in silence staring at the fire. You turned to the boy, speaking gently “thank you, I know what you did.”

You smiled at the boy, a knowing glint in your eye and Merlin felt his heart drop as he shrugged

“It’s what anyone would have done, milady. I’m glad you’re still with us” Merlin smiled kindly he had a soft spot for the youngest pendragon she was always kind to him, and unlike her sister her perception of him didn’t change. Out of every pendragon she was probably the one Merlin trusted with his secrets the most.

You were Always clever and observant, you were definitely someone he’d protect with his life just like Arthur.

“That’s the thing though, Merlin. I was gone…I wasn’t- my heart stopped” you struggled to find the words putting your legs to your chest as you watched the flames

“I was dead. I felt my heart stop, my heart knew what was happening my- my soul? Was leaving my body and something pulled me back in. It wasn’t Gwaines kiss of life although it did help” you chuckled before you became serious again “It was you Merlin.” You spoke your voice shaky but sure of yourself as you looked the boy in his terrified eyes

“Please y/n It’s not like that.” Merlin pleaded, his hand reaching for you and his skin getting sweaty and nervous at the thought of the youngest pendragon knowing he had magic, it wasn’t that he didn’t trust her on the contrary he trusted her whole heartedly but he was always nervous to let people in on his magic it tended to get them killed.

Will, His father, Lancelot… Merlin hated how his magic could save lives but in the end he’s always lose something he hoped this time things would be different.

“I know magic when I see it Merlin, don’t worry I’d never tell. You saved my life. I should have you knighted” You smiled at the boy, before bumping your shoulders together.

“Oh please don’t-“ Merlin started disgust in his voice at the idea of joining your friends as a knight laughing at Merlin’s horrified face

“Don’t worry, I won’t. But really thank you Merlin. You deserve more credit” you smiled at the boy before pushing off of the ground and making your way to Gwaine over by the ruins watching the stars through the window on the second story lost in thought

“Mind if I join you?” You called, watching as the Irish man jumped clumsily almost falling through the window.

“Not not at all, please sit” Gwaine replied shuffling over sitting beside the man you watched the stars from the window in silence for a moment

“I’m sorry” you both spoke at the same time, swallowing a laugh at the unintentional overlap

“You go” you pressed sitting up and looking at Gwaine intently

“I’m sorry, I’m the reason you died…I didn’t protect you. It was my only job and I let you get stabbed.” Gwaine shook his head the man couldn’t bare to look at you in your eyes too afraid he’d see your lifeless ones staring back in a way he was thankful your eyes shut when you died.

In a way it looked like you were sleeping, only the lack of a rise and fall of your chest showed gwaine that you weren’t just sleeping. You were dead and it was gwaines fault.

The man blamed himself, kept running through the last battle moments over and over in his head. If he didn’t shout, if he was quieter maybe everything could have been avoided, or if he listened to your funny feeling maybe you all never would have even been ambushed.

It made Gwaine start to appreciate his friends “funny feelings” something Merlin and the youngest pendragon both shared Gwaine couldn’t get the thoughts out of his head that he was the reason everything happened.

“Gwaine” you placed your hand over his, “it wasn’t your fault, I know what you’re doing. Stop blaming yourself.” Your grip on gwaines hands tightened trying to reassure him it could have happened to anyone.

“But I should have listened to you. I didn’t and you died! You fucking died!” Gwaine cries, his hands cover his mouth to mask his sob he’s striped himself of his chain mail now he’s left wearing a blue tunic and a leather bangle that clings to his muscley arm you know it’s not the right time but god does he look good.

“Gwaine.” You shout shaking his shoulders so he’ll finally look at you

“Just shut up and kiss me.” You sigh in the silver light of the moon, its only Gwaine and yourself in the ruins and you want to take full advantage of that

“Yes Princess”

#Gwaine x reader #bbc merlin imagine #bbc Merlin x reader #gwaine x fem reader #gwaine #bbc merlin

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argisthebulwark · 1 year

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The line “You were destined to be the end of his life one way or the other.” from that miraak fic you just posted made me think of one of those senerios where a prophesy is worded really edited and what everyone thought ment “you kill each other” actually ended up meaning “you get married”, you know what I mean? Like, you both know you’re supposed to “end miraak” but oh it was just worded confusingly and you ACTUALLY forfill the prophecy when you two get married.

song i listened to on repeat while writing this . tw: explicit mentions of injury & death

And as the Last meets the First, To one's will the other will bend. At the end of the Last's blade The reign of terror shall end.

"Come now, Mal Dov." Miraak's voice was soft when he stared up at the Last Dragonborn. Her hands shook on the hilt of the sword she'd taken from him, black blood spattered across her face. He wished to wipe it away and dry the tears cutting through the grime. "You know the prophecy as well as I do. It was always going to come to this."

"Don't you have a plan?" Her voice quivered and Miraak wanted nothing more than to defy the gods and live for her.

"It was always going to be you." His chest ached with each word but he couldn't leave her like this. "I've spend lifetimes trying to escape this prophecy but you have to end this."

"I can't." She sobbed, fat tears rolling down her cheeks. The sword's tip lowered until it hit the ground and the Last Dragonborn's shivering form stood before him unarmed. He knew he should strike, kill her first and prove the prophecy wrong but he couldn't move a muscle. "I can't kill you, Miraak."

He didn't protest when the Last Dragonborn sunk to her knees and crawled onto him. His wounds stung but feeling the warmth of her body on his chest was worth it. Miraak held her close, burying his face in the messy braids of her hair and taking a deep breath. She smelled of smoke and blood and Miraak breathed her in, committing her to memory.

"You can't put it off forever." He reminded her when he felt fingers clutching at his robes. Each of her sobs shook his body and Miraak let the Dragonborn cry, petting the hair out of her face. He always planned to be brave in the face of his death but he hadn't expected to find it so pretty.

"I love you." She gasped the words he'd craved for so long. Her desperate hands grabbed at his robes as if she could keep him there with sheer willpower.

"I love you, my Dragon." Miraak's heart broke when he whispered those words in her ear. The Last Dragonborn's puffy eyes met his and he cupped her face. He only had moments left before she fulfilled the prophecy that damned him. "I would give up all that I am and all that I have just to love you a little longer."

He tasted tears when the Last Dragonborn kissed him. He'd imagined kissing her every night since they'd met but it was so much more than he'd thought possible. For just a moment Miraak could trick himself into believing he could survive long enough to love her the way she deserved to be loved, wholly and without second thought.

"I would give all of myself up to love you." He whispered against her lips, heart cracking when the Last Dragonborn's forehead rested against his. Her eyes fluttered closed and he felt something within him shifting, all the power leaking out until he felt nothing but the pain.

His chest ached more with each breath he drew, wounds burning and stinging with new vigor. Her eyes met his and Miraak was certain that the wounds he'd sustained during battle were going to end him before the Dragonborn could get one last blow. Was this what love felt like? A pain so deep he thought he'd choke on it and wanting to fight through for just one more look at her?

"Something's wrong." Her brows furrowed, sitting up as her hands sought his chest. He wanted to make a joke about the multiple stab wounds in his body but his head was spinning. Dizzy, nauseous, delirious. Miraak felt himself ebbing away from the Last Dragonborn with every second. "You don't feel right."

"Could be the blood loss." He coughed when she swam in and out of vision. Dark spots appeared everywhere he looked but he wasn't ready to leave her yet. One more kiss, just one more.

"No." Her voice was tense and Miraak felt her hot fingers tearing the robes away from his chest. He didn't want to look, couldn't bear the sight. "I can't feel you anymore."

"I'm dying, Mal Dov."

"I can always feel your soul." Her hand flatted to his chest and Miraak bit his tongue against the pain flowering under her touch. "I can't find it. I can't feel it."

Miraak knew that it was the end of the line. He couldn't speak, couldn't form a thought that wasn't about her. He wanted to tell her to move on, to enjoy her life and be braver than him, to love and be loved more than anyone had ever been loved before. He had so much to tell her but couldn't make his mouth work.

Death wasn't what he expected. It felt like passing out without the panic, like sleeping without dreams. Miraak floated somewhere in his own mind and tried to be at peace with leaving her.

When he awoke there was a blinding light that stole his ability to see. He didn't know where he'd ended up, which afterlife would take someone like him. At least the light reassured him that he wasn't back in Apocrypha.

"You with me?"

The Last Dragonborn's voice floated from somewhere far away and Miraak felt his heart restart in his chest. He couldn't be somewhere too awful if he was allowed to keep his memories of her. Fumbling blindly he sought for any hint of her.

"Careful, love." Her voice was so close but he couldn't see her. With every blink saw the light shifting and willed himself to run to her. Pain he'd never felt before struck his chest and Miraak gasped for air, hands clawing at his body.

"Don't fuck up your bandages!" Her scolding words were accompanied by a swat at his hands. Miraak fell still - she was still here. Eventually he raised a hand to his face and felt the bandages she slowly unfurled from over his eyes.

"Please." His throat burned as if he'd chewed glass. Death was supposed to be peaceful, why did it hurt so badly?

His first look at her stole the breath from his lungs. The Last Dragonborn's face was clean, bags under her eyes and hair falling in soft waves over her shoulder. Miraak saw his shaky fingers raise to run along her cheek, marveling at the sight of her.

"How?" He watched the Last Dragonborn kiss the bruised palm of his hand and didn't particularly care about how it had happened. When she smiled at him it felt like the world righted itself once more.

"You gave it up."

He listened to every word, absorbing the information she shared with him. She told him of how he'd passed out yet his heart still beat in his chest and how she'd dragged him out of Apocrypha. The Last Dragonborn regaled him with the tale of carrying him to her home in Skyrim and healers from around the continent arriving to tend to his wounds. She told him of the long nights she spent sitting by the bed with a hand over his heart that beat just for her.

When Miraak stared at her, unable to voice the questions itching in his mind the Last Dragonborn smoothed a hand over his chest. It felt like heaven just to be touched by her, he didn't entirely trust that he was alive.

"I couldn't feel your soul because you gave up your status as Dovahkiin." Her smile fell at those words and Miraak wanted nothing more than to comfort her. "You gave up immortality and your power, even the Thu'um."

"Mora?"

"It's all gone." Her eyes watered when she met his gaze as if she felt guilty. "You're mortal."

Miraak didn't have the words. He couldn't tell her how she'd saved him from himself, from destiny, from every god that wanted him dead for what he'd done. He couldn't speak when the Dragonborn crawled into bed beside him so carefully as if her touch would break him. He let her cry into his shoulder, heart fluttering with every new pain he found.

It hurt because he was mortal. She'd fulfilled the prophecy without killing him. Someday he would tell her how smart she was, how she'd done the impossible. But for the moment Miraak simply enjoyed the pain of being alive.

#miraak #skyrim #asks #anon #writing #miraak/dragonborn

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the-gentleman-pining · 7 months

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Decided to rewatch OFMD S2 eps 1-3 and actually jot down my thoughts as I go! Oh what fun! Ngl this is mostly for me babes but if you enjoy it that's neat ❤️

Episode 1: Impossible Birds

Stede bearded in his dream could just be playing to swashbuckling archetypes for funsies, but is it some lingering wish that he was more masculine?

Con O'Neil truly graceful about it with the sword huh

"WHERE IS HE. WHERE'S ED?" Stede seeing Izzy as the thing that is keeping Ed from him when he's the one that left lol ok

His idealised version of Ed doesn't hold him accountable either. My mans doesn't want to face what he did at all!!

His first words to Ed in his letter are reassuring him that the crew are safe, as if he doesn't remember that Ed marooned them and left them for dead on purpose??

I know it's meant to be funny but Jackie was a bit of a sex pest toward Swede at first and the power dynamic was a bit 🫤 Glad he was into it in the end!

WHY DOES WEE JOHN SLAM THE HEAD OF THE ONE WHO GOT STABBED INTO THE TABLE INSTEAD OF THE ONE WHO STABBED THEM?? 😂

Stede truly is unphased by people being assholes to him and I just,,, respect it.

Ricky your vibes are strange and unsettling

Who in their right mind would have an ocean wedding in the golden age of piracy?? I know they probs didn't know it was the golden age of piracy while they were in it but STILL

Ed looks so dead behind the eyes 😭 Just going through the motions eh buddy?

Dressed up like the book Blackbeard I see. God he's trying so hard to inhabit this character.

I would die for Archie. Truly the himbo we need in these depressing angst riddled times.

Jim asking someone else how they're bottling things up?? Hello?? Who are you and what have you done with Jim?? Aren't you the bottling up Master? Olu bewitched you too good and now you've unlocked Feelings 😔

"He's actually a good guy" Stede babygirl did we actually forget the marooning???

I have so much I could say about how Izzy and Blackbeard's relationship has deteriorated hhhhh,,,, Izzy is a problem child but I'm so glad the story is crashing towards his character actually growing and changing. In season 1 he at least got the crumbs Ed would throw him like "I need you here", now he's only getting abuse and maybe he's throwing himself at it because he recognises he had a part to play in reaching this point and believes he deserves it.

Fang's delivery on "how you doing Izzy" will keep me warm and fed all winter. Masterclass in approaching someone, truly tender and genuine but not too pressuring. God.

That second "unhand me" hhh the panic of realising you're going to start crying if the situation continues

Con is gonna rip my heart out and eat it this season if I'm not careful

Labour exploitation Jackie what a girlboss x

Why does "you'll be having a lot of breakfastseses together" sound so ominous though 😭 Smeagol Jackie my worstie...

Stede doing Blackbeard Voice is adorable but damn he really doesn't believe that he made Ed's life better. Like how??? Why doesn't Stede equate happiness with better? Ed was explicitly happier around you ya dingus!

Swede deserves his married bliss so much. The crew can be so mean to him!!

"What am I to you" and "I have... love for you" are said so softly I'm gonna be sick,, Izzy you fucked it by wrestling this man into this particular coping mechanism and your tenderness is coming wayyyy too late. Heartbreaking tbh cause the guy didn't know how else to help Ed and now he's realising it could have been different. Sick and twisted little dynamic I'm eating it like good soup.

Definitely supposed to be taken that Izzy didn't realise "talk it through" was a Stedeism as he said it but godddd you idiot dude

Once again god bless you Archie I'd die for you

Fang I want to rescue you hhhhhh my hot topic fashionista must be so dehydrated from all these tears!!!

No way in hell Ed expected anything else out of Izzy's mouth than something about Stede, but god I wish the guy had just payed attention to Frenchie shaking his head. The catharsis of saying the quiet part out loud wasn't worth your leg, man.

"Start by cleaning up that mess"... yeah we def see Ed is killing people himself again but outsourcing the Big Job on Izzy makes sense. He's also exactly the kind of self sabotager atm that would know Frenchie won't do it, and he's looking for reasons to Be Worse.

Indigo heist my beloved. Fuck those hammies up!! I love how loud Black Pete was omg 😂

Oh fuck off Ricky I know you're a S1 Stede mirror but you're doing it detestably

Roach why is your instinct to immediately put the blue dirt on your face darling

Zheng Yi Sao completely unphased by Jackie is giving me so much delight

Sexy Dutchman 😭😂 Jackie never change

I love that Zheng Yi Sao is taking the whole crew on just to have her lil Olu moment, get it girl

TENDER JIM IM SO HAPPY FOR THEM THEY'VE COME SO FAR. I LOVE THEIR BIG SMILE 😭 (also Archie is so wholesome what is she DOING here???)

Ed oh my god you're not alright at ALL

Frenchie's quiet "sounds like a plan" is just so... painful. The acting this season is off the charts.

When Roach asked if they were in soup now I thought he was referring to the ocean as soup I'm an idiot 😭

#ofmd #ofmd s2 #our flag means death #ofmd season 2 spoilers #ofmd season 2 #ofmd spoilers #ofmd s2 spoilers #izzy hands #stede bonnet #edward teach

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xerith-42 · 4 months

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Garrance Week Day Two! Dreams/Illusion

(Just as a heads up for most of my posts during this, unless explicitly stated, this is Minecraft Diaries, not My Street) (also also I rename Aphmau to Irena in my rewrites so that's the name I'll usually use for her)

"Just breathe, Laurance. It'll all be over soon." Pain seared through every part of Laurance's barely alive body. Barely. But there was that awful part of him that remained mortal. In spite of all the swords that had stabbed through his chest, he was still alive. He was still breathing. It made him wish he was dead.

"NO! LET ME GO!" Laurance's screams fell on deaf ears as a burning sensation crept through his veins, his entire body seized with the feeling. "IRENA!!"

More pain. Even worse this time. His entire body died, his heart stopped, his blood stopped flowing, he could feel himself going cold and yet that burning continued to travel through him. Laurance thrashed against his restraints stubbornly despite the fact that it shouldn't be physically possible. Anything. Anything to get back to her. Anything to see her smile again.

"She left you. Like you deserve. There's nobody to save you now, Laurance."

"NO!!" Laurance shot up, his hand reaching out as he came to. His breathing was fast and shaky, and it took a few moments for his eyes to adjust. He blinked and the awful vision of that hell faded back to the closest thing he had to home anymore. His empty suit of armor at the end of the room stared back at him.

Right. The guard station. A tear forced its way down Laurance's face. Two more followed. He was home, but at what cost? Ungrith was dead just for him to be here. Laurance was seconds away from breaking down crying. No, keep it together--

The sound of knocking on his door was enough to make the poor man nearly jump out of his skin, in spite of how quiet it was.

"Laurance?" Garroth's voice was painfully soft, barely above a whisper. "Are you alright?"

"I-I'm fine, Garroth," Laurance replied, running a nervous hand through his hair. "Go back to bed."

"I think you're lying to me."

"Please--" For once, Garroth didn't listen. Laurance's door opened, making him jerk his head up. Okay maybe that wasn't the best way to convince Garroth that he was "fine". Garroth took in the appearance of the man before him. Bloodshot eyes with bags under them, shaky hands, and the faint sight of tears. Sure he was fine.

Garroth didn't say anything at first, instead closing the door behind him and taking a seat on his bed. Normally Laurance's armor covered most of his body, but in this state, he was only wearing a loose undershirt that didn't fully cover his arms. Garroth could see the tracing of scars on his dark skin, including some that peeked from under the low collar. Those weren't present before.

"I've heard you before, you know," Garroth confessed. "I know you keep dreaming about what happened there."

"I'm sorry," Laurance whispered.

"Why are you apologizing?"

"I didn't mean to wake you. I feel worse that I've made you worry about me."

"We're guards. Worrying is what we do best."

"Worrying about our lord. Not each other." Garroth chuckled, and Irene help him, the sound was so soothing to Laurance. An assurance that he really was safe.

"You and I both know guards worry for everyone around them, not just our lord." Garroth offered his hand. "Care to talk about it?"

"Not really."

"Laurance, I know you won't speak to Lady Irena about this."

"I don't want to worry her."

"So I'm asking you to be honest with me." Laurance sighed, pulling his legs out from under his blanket and adjusting so he was sitting next to Garroth on the edge of his bed. "Please." Laurance took a careful breath, before finally taking Garroth's hand.

"Shadow Knights aren't supposed to be made the way I was. Normally they take a still warm corpse to the abyss and start there. Most people aren't unfortunate enough to get trapped there."

"Did you not...?"

"No. Despite being stabbed straight through the chest, I managed to survive. And yet... Yet they still turned me." Laurance's hand squeezed down on Garroth's as he held in a noise of pain. "I-I can't-- I can't do this Garroth. I can't." He pulled his hand away, placing both of them on his head. "I can still hear them. It's like they're still in my head, taunting me..."

"Laurance..." Garroth took his now empty hand and wrapped it around Laurance's shoulder. "It's okay. I'm here to protect you."

It's like those words were magic. The second they left Garroth's mouth, the moment his arm made contact, Laurance broke. The waterfall of tears he had been holding in for weeks suddenly burst, and he was helplessly sobbing into Garroth's arms. He couldn't really form words at first, just collapse into the embrace of the man sitting next to him. And Garroth easily supported him, holding Laurance close and letting him release everything. It was the least he could do.

"It was so awful down there," Laurance finally whispered through his sobs. "It was so painful. All I could do was scream, keep screaming, keep screaming for days and days on end." Another fit of sobs broke up Laurance's ramblings at the memory. His throat started to burn like it did before. "And they kept taunting me. They kept reminding me that I was abandoned. That I was left. That I deserved it--"

"You weren't," Garroth reminded him, which only served to make Laurance sob more. "You know you weren't."

"I know! But I couldn't do anything! I couldn't fight them! I couldn't argue! All I could do was just hope, keep hoping, keep praying to Irene that she was safe. That you were keeping her safe. It's all I could do..." Laurance stopped talking, instead resigning himself to his tears as he leaned onto Garroth for support even further.

"It's okay. You're here now. You're alive, I'm alive, and she's alive. That's what matters, right?" He nodded. "Good. I'm grateful that you were strong enough to survive that. You're stronger than I am." Laurance opened his mouth to argue, but no words came out. Instead he buried his head into Garroth's chest and listened desperately to the sound of his beating heart. He missed his own. "You're so strong, Laurance."

Even if he didn't feel very strong, Laurance believed him. Garroth was always hard to get through, always hard to force him to open up. But he was stupidly sincere. He wasn't capable of lying about something like this. He meant every word and Laurance knew it. And he was alive. Laurance worried about his safety almost as much as Irena's. As if Garroth would disappear while he was gone. But he was alive, and here, and he was so warm. So so warm as he held Laurance.

"Thank you," Laurance finally whispered. Garroth never quite knew why, but that was the moment. That was the moment he realized he was in love. Hearing Laurance's soft, broken, tear filled voice thanking him was what it took for the pieces to finally click into place for him. He wasn't just worried about Laurance because he was a friend and a fellow guard. It was because he was in love with him. Oh Irene, wasn't that a thought?

"You're welcome," Garroth said back, fighting the urge to press a kiss to Laurance's wavy brown hair. When he said that he knew there was something else he was trying to say. Three little words that died on his tongue. Not the time. "I'm always here for you, Laurance."

Remember when I said I was gonna write more and that said statement was a lie? I lied twice.

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anonymousewrites · 7 months

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There's a Will; There's a Way (Book 4) Chapter Eighteen

Dazai Osamu x Fem! Reader

Chapter Eighteen: Protecting and Rescuing

Summary: (Y/N) faces vampires, and Dazai faces Chuuya.

Dazai and Sigma sunk beneath the water as explosions rocked the elevator from above. Fyodor was going above and beyond to rid himself of Dazai. Sigma gripped his mouth, feeling his breath running out.

Dazai pressed a hand to his shoulder. He patted his chest, and Sigma looked down, seeing the gun tucked into his vest. He raised it and fired, but it merely dented the walls of the elevator through the water.

Sigma’s chest lurched, and he had to keep from trying to breath. He was out of air. He looked up and saw the flames from the explosion had gone out. He moved upwards, but Dazai grabbed his hand and pulled him down before he breached the surface. For a moment, Sigma’s eyes widened in panic, and he felt the familiar fear for his life return.

But then he saw Dazai’s eyes. They weren’t murderous or treacherous. He was calmly trying to keep Sigma’s attention. He pointed up and shook his head, gesturing to his throat as if choking. Sigma understood. Dazai was saving him since the flames had used up the oxygen. He would suffocate if he tried to take a breath up there. Dazai had saved Sigma.

The lilac- and white-haired man felt his heart jump again. These detectives were all so different from the Decay of the Angel. They actually protected people…

Unfortunately, that wouldn’t save them from drowning, and that was the immediate concern. Still, Dazai seemed focused, and Sigma felt himself calm. The man had a plan. Dazai took the gun from Sigma’s hands and pushed out of the water. He shot at the vent above the elevator. He used Sigma’s back to launch farther up and grab the edge of the vent. Reaching in, Dazai shot the end of the vent, into the tensile wire controlling the elevator doors.

Sigma put all his strength into pulling the door open, and water gushed out. Sigma and Dazai heaved a deep breath as the water left the elevator and fresh oxygen rushed into the elevator.

“I’m alive,” breathed Sigma. He jerked up in alarm. “Dazai!”

He turned, but Dazai hung from the vent and gave him a thumbs-up. Sigma smiled in relief.

Then an explosion went off, and the elevator rocked. Dazai fell from the vent to the ground, and Sigma stumbled. The elevator fell downwards, and Dazai and Sigma braced themselves as they fell. Dazai grabbed Sigma and steeled himself.

“I did make a promise…That’d I’d get you out alive,” said Dazai.

He pushed Sigma out of the space in the door. Sigma turned in the air as he fell into a corridor.

Dazai smiled. “It’s up to you now.”

The elevator fell out of view, taking Dazai with it.

(Y/N) slowed as she saw a young girl above a tower alongside a strange looking man impaled on a sword. Bram and the girl who stole him! Her intuition hadn’t failed her.

(Y/N) needed to get up there. Flicking her wrist, a table soared through the window, and (Y/N) stood in the space.

“Don’t come!” shouted the girl. “It’s a trap!”

(Y/N) reacted the moment she spoke and dodged a stab of darkness. Whirling, she found vampire Akutagawa stared at her, suspended in a web of Rashomon. He growled and sent several tendrils at her, and (Y/N)’s gift caught it, suspending the pieces of cloth in green.

“(Y/N)!” called Atsushi, appearing behind Akutagawa.

“Atsushi, watch out,” warned (Y/N). She curled her hand into a fist, and the pieces of Rashomon she held back broke apart.

Atsushi leapt into the air and attacked Akutagawa. The vampire turned on him and batted the weretiger back.

“Akutagawa! It’s me! Don’t you recognize me?!” called Atsushi, landing on his feet.

Akutagawa just snarled, and Rashomon erupted from beneath the ground. (Y/N)’s gift kept her safe, and her fingers tensed to keep up the protection. Atsushi leapt around within the web and launched at Akutagawa. The pair were focused on each other.

“Atsushi! Keep Akutagawa! I’ll help the girl,” said (Y/N).

“How are you going to get up there?” called Atsushi, barely able to divert his attention from Akutagawa’s attacks.

“I’ll find a way,” said (Y/N). “You just hold Akutagawa back.” She smiled. “You two understand each other. If anyone can fight him like this, it’s you.”

Atsushi felt himself thrum with the encouragement, and he leapt back into his battle with renewed power. A slight green glow propelled him forward while (Y/N) turned to face the tower. Pieces of Rashomon stabbed up from the ground, but (Y/N) barely glanced at them. Her gift was working on near-subconscious levels and curled up around the threads attacking her.

(Y/N) approached the tower and narrowed her eyes. The young girl gazed down at her worriedly. (Y/N) smiled up at her. Holding out her hand, (Y/N) curled her fingers. Tiles of the tower bent outwards into stairs, and (Y/N) ran upwards. The wind whipped at her, but (Y/N) didn’t cower. Rashomon shot up at her even as Atsushi drew most of Akutagawa’s attention, and (Y/N)’s path was disrupted. She stumbled and fell to the side.

(Y/N) refused to let fear overtake her. There’s a Will; There’s a Way. A green light shone over her body, and she hung, suspended in the air. She let out a breath and floated back to the path she’d created. Landing softly, (Y/N) blinked. That was new. She smiled, and green sparks floated around her hands. Her gift was growing stronger.

Wasting no more time, (Y/N) ran and jumped up to the top of the tower. She landed in a haze of green, stood, and looked at Bram and the girl.

“Hello,” said (Y/N). “I’m (Y/N). I’m here to help you.”

“I’m Aya…” said the girl, staring at the woman in amazement.

“Aya,” repeated (Y/N). She smiled softly. “You’ve been very brave.” She smiled and held out a hand. “Let me take over now, alright?”

Aya gazed at her, wide-eyed. The sun shown down on (Y/N), illuminating her in a haze of gold and warmth. Green light hovered around her outstretched hand. Aya had the distinct impression she was staring at an angel.

“Right…” said Aya, taking the woman’s hand.

(Y/N) helped her up and away from the edge of the building. Then, she turned to Bram.

“You must be Bram,” she said.

“And you must be one of Fukuchi’s enemies,” said Bram.

“I am.” She looked at the sword Bram was impaled on. (Y/N) understood immediately. “He’s controlling you and your gift, isn’t he?”

Bram blinked. “Yes.”

(Y/N) smiled. “How can I help you?”

“You would help your enemy?” said Bram distrustfully.

“You’re a victim,” said (Y/N). “And I help people who are in trouble.”

“He needs you to pull out the sword!” said Aya. “He can’t control the vampires and stop them from hurting people unless it’s removed, but I can’t pull it.” It was clear that Bram and Aya had bonded as they escaped Fukuchi. “I tried super hard, but I wasn’t strong enough. But I was going to keep trying. I’d tie myself to the sword and jump if I had to!”

(Y/N) knelt before Aya. “That’s brave, Aya,” she said. “But you don’t need to throw away your life like that, alright? You’re worth more than that.”

Aya’s eyes widened. This woman was so gentle, even in the midst of death and world-ending crises.

“Bram, will you keep her safe after I take the sword out?” said (Y/N).

“I owe her a debt of freedom,” said Bram. “But I doubt you can remove the sword. It is imbedded in my very nerves, the core of my gift.”

(Y/N) raised a hand, and the sword in Bram turned green. “Brace yourself.”

(Y/N) clenched a fist, and the light on the sword swarmed up into Bram. His eyes widened as the green went through his nerves, cutting through the pieces of the sword attached to him. It was an odd sensation, but (Y/N)’s eyes glowed green. She was in complete control, even if she couldn’t see the pieces of the sword she was manipulating. Then, she pulled her hand down. The sword pulled out of Bram, and he gasped as his body breathed easily for the first time in far, far too long.

His body glowed as his vampiric abilities allowed his body to reform, and he stood shakily on his own two legs. He stared at (Y/N) and Aya.

He bowed to them. “I owe you two a great debt.”

“Thank Aya. She saved you from Fukuchi. She would have saved you from the sword,” said (Y/N). She glanced down from the tower to wear Atsushi and Akutagawa battled. “The only thing I can ask is for you to stop the vampires who are attacking.” She looked at him intently. “And if you can, release them from the curse.”

“Of course,” said Bram. “I will do so as soon as I take Aya to safety. She is my savior. I am her knight.” Aya smiled at him, and Bram, awkwardly, smiled back at the girl, the expression almost fatherly. Ah, trauma bonding.

“Good.” (Y/N) crouched at the edge of the tower. “I’d move quickly. Once Fukuchi figures out you’re free, he’ll try to kill you.”

“What about you?” asked Aya.

“I need to stop him from hurting more people,” said (Y/N). “Stay safe, Aya. I hope to see you again.” And then, she jumped.

“What strange women are in this century,” said Bram.

“I don’t think she was just a woman…” said Aya. “The minute she came, everything felt alright. People aren’t like that. It’s like she just knew that everything would be okay, and it was…”

Sigma pressed the gun to Fyodor’s head. He hesitated as Fyodor stared at him. Was this a trick? No, it couldn’t be…This had to be some other mind pressed down by the evil manipulator Fyodor was. Sigma reached out for the knife to kill Fyodor.

Schick!

Fyodor spun the knife and sunk the blade into Sigma’s stomach.

“Just kidding,” he said, smirking. He let Sigma’s body fall. “Split personalities are such a stale trope, but I figured you’d fall for it.” Sigma lunged for the gun again, but Fyodor kicked him away. “Pardon me. I had to make sure you were committed. But since you clearly are…” He knelt beside Sigma. “Now, please go ahead and read what you’d like.” He extended a hand.

Sigma reached out and touched Fyodor’s hand. He gasped, and information flooded into his mind. It was too much, too much, his brain couldn’t hold it, it was overwhelming, overloading, it was—

Sigma’s body slumped to the floor.

Dazai lay slumped against the wall of the corridor. Chuuya stared down at him. Dazai sighed.

“I’ve imagined this situation so many times,” said Dazai. “Though, in my imagination, we were on opposite sides.” He stared at Chuuya, who didn’t respond. “What’s wrong? Come, Chuuya. Entertain me with your flimsy punch!”

Chuuya lunged.

“Stop.”

Fyodor’s direction from the security room made Chuuya pause.

“It’s a provocation,” said Fyodor. “He’s trying to release you from your vampiric state by having you touch him. Take him out from afar.”

Dazai’s gaze hardened. “Damn.”

Chuuya shot, and Dazai gasped as blood sprayed from his shoulder. “Bitch! That hurt! Where do you think you’re aiming?! You suck at this!”

Chuuya approached and held the gun to Dazai’s forehead.

“This is just the worst,” muttered Dazai. “I’m in pain. I lose to Fyodor. And to top it off, it’s Chuuya that’s about to kill me.”

“Yes, you do lose to me,” said Fyodor across the intercom. “My poor Angel will be so sad. But don’t worry. I’ll make sure she forgets you.” He smirked into the microphone, and Dazai could hear it in his voice. “Poor Dazai. You failed her.”

Dazai’s heart clenched at the idea of failing (Y/N), losing her.

“Goodbye, Dazai. I’d say I’m sorry to see you go, but I’m not. I revel in it,” said Fyodor.

Dazai looked up at Chuuya’s glare. He wouldn’t just cower at Fyodor’s words.

“Chuuya…” he said. “Wake up. Our fate isn’t to be done here. For our—”

Bang!

(Y/N) fell through the air from the tower, and as she went, a golden light beamed into the sky. She shielded her eyes, but it didn’t take a genius to know what it was. Fukuchi had gotten One Order to open.

There’s a Will; There’s a Way

(Y/N)’s gift thrummed to life at the realization, and light shown around her. Energy formed at her fingertips.

“All units, attack!” said Fukuchi into One Order.

Around the world, war began.

And (Y/N) exploded into green light.

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wellthebardsdead · 6 months

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Clockwork Heart pt36

Part 35 here

———

Wyrm: *staring at the notes retrieved from the cultists bodies, one from the tribunal, and another from one claiming to be the first dragonborn*

Taliesin: *wincing as he heals himself* while you were asleep, everyone else turned in for the night besides myself and nerevar. We were jumped from the cultists worshipping this- Lord miraak, person, th-thing. And as we fought them off suddenly the tribunal cultists sprung us as well, in the chaos they grabbed you and voryn. A few ran off with the pair of you while the rest stayed behind to try and kill us…

Kaidan: aye… it’s a miracle we’re all alive- *hisses as a cold cloth touches his open wound, cleaning away the blood as Caryalind sews it shut*

Caryalind: especially since most of us weren’t wearing armour.

Kaidan: or underpants. *hisses as the needle pokes him again*

Caryalind: shush you I didnt have a clean pair. *looks over at lucien* how’s voryn?…

Lucien: *helping nerevar heal the other chimer as best he can* He’s still unconscious.

Inigo: *soothing his burns with the cream he had left over from trying to help j’zargo* maybe he will wake up after a long rest like he usually does?…

Taliesin: he was in a very bad way when we found them… it may take longer. *sighs and looks back at wyrm* Wyrm?… my little silk moth?… Are you okay?

Wyrm: *looks up from the letters and at him, the pain in his heart being replaced by an unspeakable rage, one too immense for his small frame to handle leaving him shaking in anger*

Taliesin: Love?

Wyrm: *suddenly gets up and walks to his tent before returning with his book and throwing it into the fire* I HATE YOU!!! *steps back and feels even more anger spill out as he sees the book sitting there in the flames, unharmed* no! You don’t just get to ruin my life! You don’t get to hurt everyone I love and not PAY FOR IT!!! *picks up the sword of jyggalag resting beside kaidans and stabs the book with it, the blade ripping through the cover and the pages with ease* I- *sniffles and drops the sword as the weight becomes too much for his arm even with his prosthetic* I hate- *drops to his knees* I hate you.

Everyone: *silently watching the sweet natured mer fall apart, all of them knowing exactly who his words are directed to, and nobody daring to stop him*

Wyrm: *sobs pulling himself back up and stumbling to his tent grabbing the mask clavicus had gifted him* I wish he’d leave me alone! I wish he’d never made me!! *screams shaking it* you promised me a wish why won’t you make it happen?! Why won’t you help me?! Why won’t anyone tell me the truth!!? *throws it and suddenly grabs the wabbajack throwing it as well as he has a complete meltdown, nobody stopping him, nobody intervening, all of them knowing deep down how badly he needs it… all of them knowing deep down there’s nothing they can do to make it better* It hurts… *finally drops to the ground again, this time for good, too worn out and too deep in anguish to get back up… until his eyes spot nerevars bag* … I want… *slowly crawls towards it* to end… *reaches into it pulling out the dwemer blade Keening* this nightmare… *turns the knife on himself aiming for his heart*

Everyone: *suddenly springs forward, nerevar moving the fastest only to halt as Taliesin reaches him first*

Nerevar: WYRM NO! PUT IT DO-…down…

Taliesin: *holding Wyrm tight, his hand grabbing his wrist while his other strokes his hair, tears pouring down his face as he whispers to him with a shaky breath* t-teacup…

Wyrm: *utterly numb, his only feeling a faint warmth in his heart from taliesins embrace, turning to a deep sadness as he hears the fear and heartbreak in his voice* t-Tali… *loosens his grip on the blade letting it fall beside his ruined book* teacup…

Taliesin: … *lifts him up and carries him back to their tent, laying him in the furs first before closing it up to give them privacy as he unbuckles the smaller mers prosthetic, not saying anything, not making a sound, just getting his partner comfortable as tears fall from his face and onto Wyrms grey skin*

Wyrm: *holding still for him beyond little trembles and quivers as he holds in his hiccups, letting him do as he wants, knowing deep down that to Taliesin, this is his only way he can help him when there’s nothing he can do* tali?… *slowly reaches his hand up to dry his tears only for Taliesin grab his wrist and lay his arm back down* …What am I going to do?…

Taliesin: I don’t know! *chokes out a sob, finally making a sound, finally letting his voice be heard* I don’t know how any of this is going to turn out! I don’t know how I can help you! I watch you get hurt time and time again and I can’t do anything to stop it or help! How can I protect you when there’s nothing I can actually do to protect you?! I don’t even know how to comprehend anything you’re going through and it scares me so much holding your body when they’re done tormenting you! I-… all I can do is watch you writhe in pain and hope you’ll still be breathing when it’s done… *sobs as his arms tremble holding his weight, his body and mind both as tired and as sore as one another* how can I protect what I love most when I can’t do anything at all?… I’m… im useless.

Wyrm: … *heart hurting in a way far more painful than everything he’s been through in a way he can’t explain* Tali… reaches up again, gently grabbing the ribbon holding his hair back and untying it with a tug* you… said it again… love… *gently dries Taliesins eyes with the ribbon, the old silk fabric soaking up his tears with ease*

Taliesin: *leans into his touch, closing his eyes as his dark hair falls down over his face and shoulders* I… I did?… I suppose… I’ve been saying it for a while now, haven’t I?…

Wyrm: *nods and smiles up at him with a tired eyes and a soft sweet smile* I love you Taliesin… I’m… im sorry for everything… I don’t… I don’t know what to do anymore… I just want it all to stop… you’re not useless… I’d be dead by now without you.

Taliesin: *feeling the pain in his heart ease and his worries wash away if only for a moment at his words* I… I love you too, Wyrm… I don’t know, how to fix this… or how I can help… but I’ll stay by your side, and keep trying In anyway I can but… *gently strokes his face* promise me… you won’t let it get this far again?…

Wyrm: *nods and leans into his touch with a soft tired sigh* I promise, only if you promise you’ll do the same.

Taliesin: *nods and smiles* I promise… *leans down over him, his lips so close to his* may I kiss you?…

Wyrm: *leans up without hesitation, his lips meeting his in a soft, but deep kiss*

Taliesin: *moans softly into his touch and pulls him in close as he lays beside him in the furs*

*meanwhile outside*

Nerevar: *ear twitching as he listens in to the conversation between Wyrm and Taliesin, smiling with a tired expression as he hears them calm down into only soft kisses and hushed whispers* they’ll be alright… *looks down at Voryns sleeping face, the chimers third eye twitching and flickering beneath closed lids, still lost in his dreams* I just hope you will be…

Inigo: he’ll be okay. He is very resilient. *picks up the sword of jyggalag and pulls the book off of the blade* I think you should teach Wyrm how to use this sword kaidan, he did very good! It went all the way throu- *opens the book and blinks seeing the pages completely unharmed. All of them still swirling with writings and scriptures, not a hole in sight* th-through? *flicks through the pages, the only one with a hole being the blank one Wyrm had already read* wh-what? *closes it and feels even more confused seeing the holes still there on both sides* I?

Nerevar: don’t think too hard about it… you’ll hurt yourself.

*meanwhile*

Voryn: *wading through the flowing magicka of the dream sleeve with his head held high, a spear to his back, guiding him to the purple skies and gears of the clockwork city* you claim to be helping wyrm, to care for him, and yet you’d so willingly do him harm by ending me. Has his heart not hurt enough?

Vivec: You are inhibiting his path. Seht tried to be lenient with your interference, he will decide what he wishes me to do.

Voryn: Reduced once more to taking orders from another- *winces as he’s pushed onto the stairs leading up from the shores of the dream sleeve and to the city floating amongst its waves* heh… I always knew how to get beneath your skin… do you hate nerevar still for loving me over you?… is that why you want so badly to kill me?… that you’d order your Cultists to come for my throat?… How am I inhibiting Wyrm when I only wish to help him find the truth?…

Vivec: … *raises his chin up with the tip of his spear* is that what you call it?… finding the truth?… by straying him from his path?

Voryn: How can I stray him from it when none of us know what that path is?… do you even know, Vehk?… do you know what he’s planning?…

Vivec: I do not… but I trust Seht and his words-

Voryn: even after he coerced you into my murder? And blamed it on you?

???: vivec?… please don’t kill Ata Ryn…

Voryn: *gaze snapping past vivec to a little boat floating on the surface of colours and light, and inside, wyrm, moving towards them slowly* Wyrm? Hla aka! Wake up! Get out of here! It’s not- *blinks as the spear is pulled away, vivec turning his back to walk to the boat* don’t. You. DARE! *grabs hold of him pulling him back and throwing him against the steps before summoning his hammer* I’m going to do what I should have done! Three! Thousand! YEARS AGO! *raises it up to destroy Vivec’s very soul*

Wyrm: DONT!

Voryn: *falters, his eyes locked onto Vivec’s with murder deep within them and his heart* He needs. To die Hla khes-

Wyrm: he’s been tricked too Ata!! *climbs out of his boat grabbing onto voryns robes, putting himself between him and Vivec*

Voryn: … *lowers his hammer with a deep, tired sigh, resting one hand on it and the other around Wyrm, holding him safely against him as he stares down at vivec* This is your only chance… whatever he asks. You speak only. The tru- *staggers as the step beneath him shifts* what-

Wyrm: *screams as the one beneath his feet disappears entirely making him slip into the dream sleeve* Ata!!

Voryn: Wyrm! *reaches down for him, diving after him without hesitation as the sea of colours engulfs him, the two leaving the realm beyond the aurbis and returning to the waking dream*

Vivec: *gripping onto the stairs as the city suddenly lurches and rocks, the ones beneath him disappearing one by one as he tries to get to his feet* Seht!!! What are you doing?! Why are you doing this?! *pulls himself up, grabbing muatra as he rushes up the steps and into the sphere of the clockwork god* Why must voryn die if it will break Wyrms heart?! Why did you chase him away?! Why are you hiding the truth from

Him?!

Sotha sil: *turns to face him with an expression of anger he’d never seen his fellow tribune wear before* BECAUSE HE CANT KNOW!!! IF HE DOES ALL OF THIS WILL BE FOR NOTHING! NEREVAR WILL HAVE DIED FOR NOTHING! MY FAMILY AND HOUSE GONE! ALL FOR NOTHING!

Vivec: *grips his spear tighter* I am bound by my promise to you, seht… But if you do not tell me what you are keeping from even me… I will sever that bond.

Sotha sil: …You are forbidden from telling him. From telling anybody… break your oath to me and I will not save you when the brass tower is made flesh anew.

Vivec: *smiles softly beneath his mask as he rests his free hand on his neck, where he can feel a collar and chain binding him by a kiss made long ago to sotha sil as he placed his mask over his face. Knowing full well what breaking it could mean* yes… seht.

*the next day*

Nerevar: *grunts sliding off his horse as they reach the riften stables* my love. *reaches his arms up, embracing voryn in them and helping him down from the saddle*

Voryn: *unable to even dress in his armour never mind stand up* my love…

Taliesin: *drops from his horse with a pained groan, still sore from the previous nights attack* gods, *looks up to help Wyrm down* my lo-

Wyrm: *jumps into his arms giving him a kiss, seemingly back to his usual self* my love! *giggles as the high elf kisses him back before setting him down*

Kaidan: You lot make sure your valuables are well hidden. I’ll scare the guards into opening the gate.

Caryalind: why did you look at me as you said that?

Kaidan: You might be broke but you’re still a prince. Cover that pretty face or we might find you missing and being held for ransom.

Caryalind: by the eight is he serious?

Lucien: oh yes! Riften is the crime capital of skyrim some say, and-

Caryalind: no not that. Does he think I’m pretty?

Kaidan: uh- yeah. *hurries ahead to the gate*

Nerevar: *Chuckles fixing his cape as a scarf over voryns face and hair, knowing his love wouldn’t want to be seen so disheveled* I’ll go get us rooms at the inn and stay beside voryn.

Lucien: I-I’ll stay with you as well. N-not saying that I’m not, y’know, down for some adventure just- I don’t want to get mugged. Or robbed, or stabbed, or- *clears his throat* I-I’ll see you guys later- *waves to Wyrm and the others as he follows nerevar & voryn*

Kaidan: We’ll meet back at the inn in a couple hours. *nods to them as they go by*

Nerevar: *nods* keep your eyes open, and eachother safe.

Voryn: *glances at Wyrm from under the cape and smiles* just looking for information, don’t go running into trouble…

Wyrm: *nods* we won’t go further than the market.

Nerevar: *nods* okay… *walks to the inn. Glancing back at them reluctantly before going inside*

Taliesin: *gives Wyrms hand a gentle squeeze* we ask around about the ratway, nothing else.

Wyrm: but- what about that Delvin guy Enthir told us about?

Inigo: that is true! He could have useful information for us.

Kaidan: *leading them into the marketplace* or a knife for our backs.

Caryalind: then he’ll have my knife to worry about.

Wyrm: p-please- I don’t want to think about knives right now… *hugs onto Taliesin as they pass by stalls, nobody noticing the red haired man eyeing them up, and then disappearing as his gaze catches Wyrms very distinct, Pearl eye*

#Wyrm dragonborn #Kaidan skyrim #skyrim taliesin #Caryalind skyrim #inigo skyrim #Lucien skyrim #nerevar #voryn dagoth #vivec #sotha sil

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radio-show · 2 years

Text

Julian Devorak x reader

Description:

Julian comes home with a stab wound. Lucky for him, he has a lover who knows how to work a needle, and how to make his heart flutter

Notes: GN reader

Warnings: None (I think) Blood is mentioned like once

Julian stumbled through the door for the first time that day, and his lover peeked around the corner before he could even say anything.

"Julian!" They rushed to his side, spotting the blood seeping through his shirt. Their arm hooked around his shoulders, and they started to hold him up. "What happened?"

"Long story," he hissed in pain.

"Come on, love. I'll get you patched up." The two of them settled on the couch, and (Y/N) left to get some medical supplies. They came back with a hand towel, some gauze and bandages, something in a bottle Julian usually used to clean wounds, and surprisingly, a needle and thread. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, kinda," Julian muttered, sitting stiffly. He groaned quietly in pain and leaned back as (Y/N) lifted his shirt to see the wound.

"That looks bad," They said quietly.

"It could be worse."

"You could be dead."

Julian laughed shortly. "Yeah, I guess," he said, and then winced in pain.

"Is this one of yours?"

"Hm?" Julian lifted his head.

"One of your wounds. Or is it someone else's again?" (Y/N) started mopping up the blood.

"One of mine. Took a sword strike from a guard." (Y/N) only nodded and wiped up the rest of the blood, and poured some of the stuff in the bottle onto the cut. Julian hissed in pain, and (Y/N) gently stroked his hair.

"Hey, I got this," they said. "It's gonna be okay."

"You stole my line," Julian laughed to himself, but winced again. "Mmh, that stings."

"This looks deep. I'd probably have to stitch it up."

"Glad to see my lessons are coming into clutch, huh?"

"Yeah." (Y/N) threaded the surgical thread through the needle. "Hold still, okay?"

"You don't need to tell me twice," Julian smiled as (Y/N) pulled his bloody shirt over his head. "Heaven knows I could never say no to you. You could ask me to go to the ends of the Earth, and I'd probably do it without thinking twice."

"Lucky for you, love, I'm not asking you to do that," (Y/N) smiled, sticking the needle into his skin at the edge of the cut. "I just need you to hold still." They tied off the first stitch. "Now quit being so sappy, you're not gonna die." The stitches went smoothly, and the two of them didn't say much. "Why were you around the guards?"

"I wasn't paying enough attention to my surroundings," Julian said, his voice strained from the pain. "Mm, that feels awful."

"It'd probably feel better if you weren't stabbed."

Julian laughed shortly, and then grimaced. "Yeah, probably."

(Y/N) half smiled, tying up another stitch. "You know I love you, right?"

"Don't know why, honestly. I don't deserve it."

"I mean, nobody said you had to deserve it." (Y/N) stuck the needle back into his skin. "I love you anyway. I love you in your best, and your worst, and in my darkest hours, I always think back to you."

"Now who's being sappy?"

(Y/N) laughed shortly. "It's true. I love you. I really do. "

"I love you too," Julian smiled softly. "Ow, careful with that needle, darling."

"Sorry." (Y/N) grimaced, and tied off another stitch. (Y/N) fell into a rhythm of the stitches, and had soon made about ten, enough to close the wound. They gently placed gauze on the wound and wrapped his lower torso in bandages. "There you go, love. As good as new." They gently kissed his nose and ran their fingers through his hair.

Julian smiled and leaned back on the couch, his hands lying over his stomach. "Don't mind me, I'll be right as rain real soon, you know. Probably didn't need the stitches."

"It will help," (Y/N) assured him gently.

"I know, Julian smiled. "I'm the doctor."

(Y/N) brushed his hair out of his face and kissed his forehead, then sat next to him on the couch. "I know," they said. "But I wanted to care for you anyway." Julian's smile softened, a chuckle barely in the back of his throat.

"How did I ever get so lucky as to have you in my life?"

"Just how you got lucky for this," they said, leaning forward and placing a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "And this." Another kiss, on the other side. "Or this," they added softly, pressing their lips to his. "I love you on purpose," (Y/N) said with another, firmer kiss to the lips. (Y/N) shifted into Julian's lap and continued to kiss him, at the visible pleasure of the redhead in question. "Luck didn't have a dang thing to do with it."

"I don't know," Julian said, his smile turning into a smirk against their lips. "This feels pretty lucky to me."

His fingers wandered up to their face, and to their stomach, and their neck, and finally rested on their shoulders. "Maybe," (Y/N) shrugged, leaning their forehead on his and chuckling a little to themself.

"You'd think the magician would be the one to know about luck." Julian's hand brushed behind the nape of (Y/N)'s neck. He pulled them forward with the tenderness they knew so well, and kissed them again. It was simple and warm, and Julian's lips were soft like a summer breeze. His hand slowly moved to cup their face. (Y/N)'s hand absently rested on his chest, feeling the thump of his heart behind his ribs. He tilted his head and leaned into the kiss a little more. "Whatever this is, luck, fate, or just you being stubborn enough to stay with me." Julian stopped for a moment, his thumb rubbing their cheek. "It feels absolutely magical," he said, a little wistful, and a little bit ready to kiss them again.

"Naturally, the pretty words come from the pretty face."

"Is that so?" Julian murmured. "That explains the perfect words on those beautiful lips of yours." He smiled, praises on the tip of his tongue.

"Julian, you charmer."

"Guilty as charged,” Julian laughed quietly.

“I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

#julian the arcana #julian devorak #the arcana #the arcana game #Julian x reader #julian devorak x reader #fluff #Juiian fluff #Julian Devorak fluff #honestly man this guy kinda grabbed my heart and ran away with it

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theindescribable1 · 7 months

Text

The End Of The Apocalypse

((I'm going to wrap this up today with a long af text story. None of this is completelymade up, me and Evil Anon decidedhow it'd end))

Fritz had to continue on to Scrim's home without Scrim, she qas attacked by an infected Wormy, and he couldn't waste time. Fritz made it to the house and set down the time machine, he quickly set it for 1 week in the past. Before he could enter, the Evil Anon grabbed him and pulled him back. "You aren't going anywhere, Fritz!" He said with a large grin. Furbies came out from behind the Evil Anon, awaiting command. Then a voice other than Evil Anon's said.. "Attack." It sounded like Hidden, but it couldn't be... Fritz was dragged out of the house then attacked by furbies. He thought this was the end, he looked over to see Hidden smiling over him. She betrayed them. Fritz didn't go out without a fight, he didn't have the weapons given by Anons, there was only a regular dagger he could use. Fritz kicked and stabbed furbies left and right, and then threw the dagger towards Evil Anon. He grabbed the dagger out of mid air and threw it back to Fritz, it stabbed him in the shoulder. He called out for Hidden to help him, but she only stared and smiled. "Oh you thought it'd be as simple as a little time machine?" Evil Anon said. "Let's have a fair fight. ." The furbies backed away and formed a circle around Evil Anon and Fritz. A sword was thrown down at Fritz's feet and Evil Anon held another. It was a duel, a battle. Evil Anon ran towards Fritz ready to attack, Fritz blocked it and threw Evil Anon back. The battle lasted for 25 painful minutes. Evil Anon kicked Fritz down and put one foot onto his chest, Fritz couldn't get up. Evil Anon held up his sword in both hands, ready to drive it through Fritz's heart. Before the blow was given, Fritz managed to push down Evil Anon. Fritz grabbed the knife and stabbed Evil Anon 3 times as quickly as he could. The Furbies realized their master was dead, and they started to back away from the blood covered Fritz with a sword in his hand. Hidden made a ghastly frown and ordered the furbies to attack Fritz. The furbies obeyed. They lunged at Fritz, but Fritz ran into the house as fast as he could and leapt into the time machine. The furbies were trying to follow, but Fritz already stopped Evil Anon from sending the ask to release the Furbies by stabbing him once more. The furbies started to evaporate, the sky turned blue again, the world stopped producing the infectious glitch. Fritz stepped back through the time machine, and all was well. No sign of destruction or furbies. Fritz went further into Scrim's house and located Ti1 and Daisy, it was really hot where Daisy was..She was in hell after all. Soon after, Fritz found Inde, Scrim, Wormy and Hidden, completely ok. None of this ever...happened. remember that now.

#The end of the world has been prevented #The cursed world is over #text story #LONG AF...#IMPORTANT IMPORTANT IMPORTANT

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manawari · 9 months

Text

Fear the blood in me

Vampire!Jin-woo (ver. 2) (ver. 1)

Once, there was a young man. Lonely, weeping, and his clothes were stained in ichor. The night was cold and the leaves were rustling, he shivered as he walked into the deep forest, lifting one foot after another while clutching on his cloak that was the last thing he had grabbed before running away. His legs trembled. The agonizing wound in his waist burned him to no end, soaking through his hanbok.

The poor young man soon collapsed to the ground and coughed weakly. His hand never left the stab wound that continued to be overflowed with blood. The crisp wind began to make his lips go dry. Being the last survivor of his family never lasted long. . . The sword had sunk deep when those armed men barged into his home and wrecked everything apart, thus taking the lives of his family members whereas he was forced to get away and report to the royal palace.

Unfortunately. . . He failed.

The moon had never been so big and bright. All the man could see were the faces of his family and the face of death greeting his soul to be escorted to the afterlife. Deep inside, he never wished to die. . . No, if he lived, he would live in grief and utter regret.

It was better to fade out of the surface of the world.

However, if the whole Sung lineage was gone, those killers would be still roaming and wandering in the kingdom. They would act as though they hadn't slaughtered a whole innocent family. He never wished for such a thing to happen, let alone be in the hands of death nearing his body to claim his soul.

"Child. . . "

It was a voice.

It was deep, and echoing, and was whirling in the silent wind. The dying man forced his eyes to crack open. Could it be. . . Yeomra, the God of Death?

"H— help. . . " said the young man.

A shadow loomed over his body. He was faced with an entity who stood with a cloaked hood over the body and the face was succumbed by darkness. The God of Death looked not as what he imagined in the paintings.

"Pitiful young man. I can tell you are still grasping on the edge of your string of life." The entity said. "Fear not, for I can give you the strength you will need, and not for the rest of your life, but for eternity."

The man coughed and his eyelids grew heavy. Still, he kept his gaze at the mysterious being before him.

"I am no God of Death. I am an eldritch. You shall have nothing to fear now, my child. Allow me to save you."

He did what he was told. Every breath in his lungs started to drain him.

"Tell me your name, child."

"S— Sung. . . " His throat tightened. Yet, he managed to finish his words. "Jin-woo."

And those were the last words that left his tongue.

A cold droplet of liquid touched his lips and managed to trickle down within his mouth. Darkness flushed him as he waited for the inevitable to occur. Sung Jin-woo neither felt he was dead or alive, but all he felt that while his eyes were still shut, his bones were cracking on their own and his heart suddenly pounded against his chest. His fingers curled against the ground as his back arched.

What is this?

What is happening to me?

. . . Who am I?

Pain. . . It prickled him like a hundred knives.

His body jerked and twitched. Then, a handful of blood sprung out of his mouth and landed on the spot next to him. He groaned once his body stopped moving. He pushed himself up on his arms and noticed the clothing he wore, noticing a ripped hole in the center of what appeared to be dried blood. His blood. He blinked.

Trees surrounded him and so did the darkness. The moon above him was bright and the only light for his vision. However, even through the darkness, he could make out the birds perched on the branches and the wild rabbits that rustled behind the bushes. A growl reverberated within him, so he looked down and placed his hand on his stomach, sensing its greedy desire.

"Sung Jin-woo."

"Huh?" He turned around. A floating entity stared at him, carried by shadows beneath the ripped cloak that shrouded the bare identity of its face.

"You are Sung Jin-woo. Live your life and satisfy your hunger, my child."

Hunger? Sung Jin-woo? Then, his eyes widened at the realization. That's my name!

The entity dwindled into the air by the touch of the subtle wind before he could face it again.

Live your life and satisfy your hunger.

He glanced at his stomach again. The rumbling sensation vibrated against his palm. He felt his throat dry and vague images came into his mind, as if these were what his hunger been desiring. However. . . They looked like faces of humans.

Humans. His stomach growled again.

Jin-woo soon found himself wandering in a village. Moments after being awaken, he had never felt so weak. Given in his current clothing, he looked as if he was a mere beggar that came out of nowhere. People stared oddly at him and women had tucked their children close.

The scent was. . . Addicting.

He could sense a different smell in each person. Was this normal? The reek of blood that was flowing beneath their skin, it was making his tongue twitch, and his teeth ache. Nonetheless, Jin-woo clutched his cloak that also covered his head.

He reached a vendor that sold fishes. Jin-woo made his way to the front after a customer had walked away. He hung his head low as his stomach rumbled louder, causing his breath to quiver.

"Ah. What can I do for y—"

"F— food." He gritted his teeth. An aching sensation erupted in his gums.

The vendor owner blinked. "Pardon?"

"Food."

"I am sorry. I cannot simply give you food. Do you have money?"

The man's blood smelled raw due to the proximity between them. Jin-woo clutched deeper on his cloak and his other hand had begun to scratch the wooden table.

"Just— give. . . Me—" He grumbled.

"Son, if you cannot be precise, then I shall have to— ACK!"

Jin-woo grabbed a fistful of his hair and hauled him forward to see the clean neck to feast his eyes. The man quivered against his grip. Then, he felt his eyes glow in a unique hue, which only made his hunger more powerful than ever. So he parted his mouth and sank his teeth— no, jaws, into the skin and immediately drank the blood that oozed through the holes.

The screams were nothing to him. He used his hand that held his cloak to grasp on the vendor's shoulder to keep him from squirming. Blood dripped rapidly on the raw fishes and coated them in crimson.

"AHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!"

Jin-woo retracted his teeth away from the human and let him collapse on top of the fishes. He faced the villagers with blood streaming on his chin. Everyone stared in aghast and terror. There were children crying, the men and women panicking, and the rest were shaking in fear.

Suddenly, the scent of blood among them pulsated against their veins.

A large pang struck his head. Jin-woo yelled in pain. . . Or was it a roar? It felt as if his brain was about to explode and his hand clawed to where his heart beat. His knees found the ground as blood spurt out of his mouth. His back cried in an excruciating pain. Something within his spine and ribs started to penetrate through the back. . .

And something had verily tore out of his skin.

*fwap!*

The crowd clamored.

Above the crouched outsider, a pair of black wings hovered above his body, joining his silhouette on the ground. Jin-woo raised his head and eyed the gathering in front of him through his blazing eyes. Then, his wings carried his weight across the village, dashing through the people, who ran for their lives.

Jin-woo soared through the air and flew on top of the trees. The wings resembled a bat's, yet wider and thicker as it controlled the wind in his own speed. The first human whose blood he had drunk lingered in a quite of a bitter taste in his teeth — the vendor was probably ill in secret or liquor drinker.

. . . But that wasn't enough for his hunger to be satiated.

He needed more.

More blood. Something that was strong. Not from a thin physique. He was looking for something. . . Brusque. Yes, he would probably be full if he had sucked on a different person.

So, he flew across the forest. The land was vast as the night sky. And he was a tiny speck of darkness venturing in heights not an ordinary being could — well, he was no an ordinary. He was an entity who woke up in the middle of a night nary a trace of memory.

After a while, Jin-woo turned to a different direction and plunged into the forest. He smelled something during his hunt. Not one human, but more than two. They were gathered around a bonfire next to a small hut. Boastful laughter reverberated through the air as some clicked their glasses together before downing on them. The roasting meat was rich in the middle of the fire, which Jin-woo found himself staring intently at, but the smell of human blood was richer.

He stood behind the oak tree, relishing the sensation of his burning hunger. His wings shrunk back into his flesh. His fingers curled in anticipation and his tongue drew across his fangs behind his closed mouth.

Finally, the first man got up. He was twice than his size. Jin-woo didn't move from his spot as he kept a close eye on the nearing human, who was heading toward the tree he stood behind. The man pulled the hem of his hanbok up as if he was about to do some business, so after a few seconds, Jin-woo pounced from the shadows and attacked the man.

He headed straight to the neck.

The cry captured the attention of the rest of the group and turned to the brewing commotion. Jin-woo snapped the man's neck apart and turned to the remaining humans with vicious eyes.

An arrow pierced his shoulder, but Jin-woo just stared at it. He plucked it out of his skin and tossed it aside. He dashed forward and headed to the archer where he pushed his hand into the chest and pulled the archer's heart out of his ribs. The body collapsed in the puddle of blood.

The weight of the organ in his palm, and the thick blood soaking his hand, drove more power in his veins. All he saw was red.

Screams surfaced in the air. Jin-woo dug his fangs into each neck before snapping the life out of it. The blood tasted different than his first prey — or was it because of the stamina of these humans?

The more he sucked, the more willpower he gained.

As soon as the slaughter ended, the whole camp was drenched in cold red. Jin-woo raised his hand and drove his tongue across the back of his bloodied hand, savoring the raw taste of steel. His hunger was satiated now. However, he noticed something—

Weren't these humans supposed to be six? He thought. The bodies on his feet were only five. Then, where was—

His hearing perked up. Jin-woo looked ahead of the forest. The indistinct susurration within the bushes and the elevated breaths ushered his his senses.

His wings grew back and he rushed to the direction of the sounds.

Tracking the last human down was not difficult. He caught the escaping figure shortly after he had taken off. Jin-woo soared below and grabbed the human from the back of his clothing, lifting him above the ground. His prey squirmed.

"Release me!" He cried.

So, Jin-woo threw him across the wind until the human's back collided with the cave's stone frame. He descended and kept his wings on, walking toward his prey, who could no longer move an inch due to the impact that had inevitably crushed his bones.

"Think you can escape from me?" Jin-woo began.

The human was in a brink of death to speak.

Jin-woo crouched down and used his finger to tip the head aside. "You really chose the hard way to die, huh? If you stayed, you would've been in the afterlife in a blink of an eye."

He parted his mouth again and lunged his fangs at the neck area, sucking all the remaining blood that was left in the body.

Since that moment, a new monster arose. A creature who would spread terror among all villages. The devil of the night. The blood-sucker. He who preyed humans for food or out of sheer delight. . . He was the Vampire.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

" . . . And that ends the folklore of a vampire." said a college student in Russian as he gathered in a section of the library with his classmates.

"Creepy. So nobody knew its exact origin?"

"There are various of origins. A famous mythical creature from the Eastern Europe whose legend spread throughout all fictions because of its horrific skills and anything that involves blood — that is a vampire for you. Have you heard of Count Dracula?"

"Obviously! Who wouldn't? I've read stories of that character, even dating back to the original."

"I never knew you are a fan of that blood-sucking monster."

"Not at all. It's just interesting how out of all things, blood is the only thing that attracts a vampire."

The boy opened his mouth to reply when a new voice chimed in—

"Because blood is the source of life."

The small group of Russian students blinked toward the speaker, who stood in front of the shelf with a book on his hand. He was tall and wore black clothing that made his tanned skin stand out, yet didn't seem to be a native in the country, he looked rather Asian.

"You speak Russian?" A girl spoke.

The Asian looked away from his book and faced the group. A smile narrowed across his lips. "Konechno."

The four students exchanged mused looks at one another. Meanwhile, the man closed his book and placed it back into the shelf and began to walk away.

"Ty tozhe znayesh' o vampirakh?"

The stranger stopped. He turned over his shoulder to face the curious eyes of the youngsters. They were asking him if he knew about vampires too. As far as he heard from their conversation, they were making a report to submit as their project in school.

"Ne sovsem," he replied.

He walked away after that. If he let the students indulge in his answers, his cover might be blown, especially when he knew things that never existed in fiction.

Sung Jin-woo was someone who had lived through generations. He witnessed the first war of the world, the first innovation of technology, and how humans evolve as did their surroundings. All while he remained the same and untouched of age and death. He had his hands full throughout his lifetime of being alive, making the best of being 'normal' while still having no recollection of the past he had before awakening.

Manipulation through the eyes was the key. If an old person recognized him decades ago, Jin-woo would stare deeply into their eyes as he spoke that he hadn't known them. It always worked easily.

Did he care if people die before him?

No. He was too heartless to care.

To him, humans were just food for him every time his hunger ignited. Every victim, every droplet of ichor, flowed within his body. He was still powerful as he was now thanks to them.

Mysterious murder cases had been reported throughout countries he had been to. The authorities found dead bodies, pale and sometimes had their bodies ripped apart as though some wild animal had devoured them, from dumpsters and below the riverbanks.

Forensic pathologists had come up various reasons behind those deaths, there were even categories to determine which possibility had fallen on the bodies themselves. Jin-woo could not help but find entertainment when watching the news. It was as if the world was a board game, he was a piece that could never be found nor touched.

His immortality meant outliving every living being and overpowering them.

Jin-woo spent his days roaming the human life and by night. . . He would either settle for a glass of red wine or hunt. In other words, he was a serial killer. But truly, he was just a monster living amongst humans while also being in the body of a human.

#here me out— jin-woo is a vampire who has WINGS #this time he has a backstory #SL characters as beasts behind the society #the amount of blood here made me ask myself “girl are you okay??” 😭#solo leveling #sung jin woo #sl fics by rei

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