#Night claim my consciousness- for I am tired. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

horeformilfs · 4 months

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Little Crow

Mother Miranda X Fem! Reader

TW: Near Death, Experimentation, Panic Attack, Nightmare, Manipulation

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The biting cold of winter gnawed at Y/n's consciousness as she lay on the brink of death. A veil of darkness enveloped her, and the frigid wind whispered it's icy lullaby. In the stillness of the night, Mother Miranda discovered Y/n, a fragile soul on the edge of oblivion. The woman, shrouded in mystery, cradled the unconscious figure and spirited her away to the eerie confines of her hidden laboratory.

When Y/n awoke, the sterile scent of antiseptic assaulted her senses. Confusion etched across her face as her eyes adjusted to the dim light. Mother Miranda loomed over her, a haunting silhouette against the backdrop of medical equipment and arcane symbols. The ethereal figure explained how she had saved Y/n from the clutches of death.

With a furrowed brow, Y/n questioned the circumstances surrounding her rescue, seeking answers in the eyes of Mother Miranda. "Where am I? What happened?" she inquired, her voice a fragile echo in the sterile air.

The cryptic woman revealed the truth, stripping away the illusion of benevolence. "You were on the brink of demise. I saved you. You are in my domain now," Miranda declared with a dispassionate certainty that sent shivers down Y/n's spine.

A chill settled in Y/n's heart as she asked when she would be able to leave. The response was cold and unyielding. "Never," Miranda stated, her voice echoing through the sterile room.

Confused and indignant, Y/n protested, "Why? I didn't ask for your help, and I certainly didn't agree to be your prisoner!"

A smirk played upon Miranda's lips as she revealed her true intentions. "You are mine now. A subject for my experiments. Your destiny is entwined with mine," she asserted, her words a haunting melody that reverberated through the room.

Y/n recoiled, defiance in her eyes. "I am not some property for you to claim! You can't just take me and do as you please!"

Miranda's smirk deepened, and her eyes gleamed with an unsettling confidence. "That's where you're wrong, my dear. In this domain, you are nothing but mine to control and use. Welcome to your new reality."

Days melded into a nightmarish blur as Miranda's relentless experiments continued to unfold upon Y/n. The sterile walls of the laboratory bore witness to the suffering etched across Y/n's face. In a desperate attempt to grasp the reasons behind her torment, Y/n mustered the strength to question Miranda.

"Why me?" Y/n's voice trembled, a plea for answers in the midst of agony.

Miranda responded with cryptic prose that offered no solace. "The tapestry of fate is woven with threads of sacrifice. You are but a pawn in a grand design," she murmured, her gaze fixated on the swirling concoctions in her hands.

A cold shiver ran down Y/n's spine as Miranda injected her with a sedative, the world fading into a hazy dreamscape. As Y/n fought the impending pull of unconsciousness, she struggled to voice her questions, each attempt drowned in the intoxicating numbness.

The next awakening brought little respite. Y/n found herself lying on the sterile bed once more, Miranda meticulously recording notes from the latest experiment. Desperation clawed at Y/n's chest as she summoned the strength to speak once more.

"Why are you doing this to me?" Y/n's words wavered, the echo of her plea lingering in the sterile air.

Miranda glanced at her with an indifferent gaze before resuming her work, the answer elusive as ever. Y/n, tired of the ceaseless torment, reached the precipice of despair. In a voice laced with weariness, she begged, "If I can't leave, if there's no escape from this nightmare, just end it. Kill me and free me from this agony."

A chilling silence enveloped the room as Miranda paused, her expression unreadable. The weight of Y/n's plea lingered, the room suffused with an unsettling tension, as if the very air held its breath, awaiting a response from the mistress of this macabre domain.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open once more, the stark reality of her captivity settling like a heavy shroud. In a desperate attempt to break free from this nightmare, she pleaded with Miranda once again, her voice tinged with both desperation and frustration.

"Please, Miranda, let me go. I beg you. I can't take this any longer," Y/n implored, her eyes searching for a hint of mercy in Miranda's gaze.

But Miranda, unmoved by the plea, shook her head. "You are destined for something greater, my dear. I won't let you go," she declared with an air of finality.

Confusion and fear gripped Y/n as she questioned, "Destined for what? Why won't you just tell me the truth?"

Miranda, ever cryptic, revealed her grand design. "You will be the fifth lord of the village, ruling over your own domain. The cadou will be implanted within you, granting you unimaginable power," she explained, a twisted sense of pride in her proclamation.

Y/n recoiled at the revelation, a surge of defiance rising within her. "I won't be part of your twisted plans! I won't let you turn me into some monster!" she protested, her voice laced with determination.

Miranda's gaze remained unyielding. "As long as you don't succumb to the lycan transformation, you shall rule over your domain with power and influence," she stated, as if sealing Y/n's fate with the utterance of those words.

Despite Y/n's fervent resistance, Miranda stood firm, her decision unwavering. "The procedure will take place tomorrow evening. The other lords will bear witness to your ascension," Miranda declared, her tone leaving no room for negotiation.

The weight of impending doom settled upon Y/n's shoulders, the realization that escape was futile. The once-vivid hope for freedom now flickered, threatened by the encroaching darkness of Miranda's ambitions. Tomorrow would unveil a twisted destiny, and Y/n could only brace herself for the unknown horrors that awaited

The night of the ominous procedure descended, casting a shadow over Y/n's fragile hope. Miranda led her to a dimly lit chamber, where the other lords awaited—Alcina Dimitrescu, Donna Beneviento, Karl Heisenberg, and Salvatore Moreau. Their presence intensified the air of dread that hung over the room.

Alcina, statuesque and commanding, fixated her gaze on Y/n, a predatory glint in her eyes. Before the procedure began, she approached with an air of casual flirtation, causing Miranda's envious ire to flare.

"Well, well, Miranda, you've found quite the interesting specimen," Alcina purred, her gaze lingering on Y/n. "Quite a pity to subject such beauty to your experiments."

Miranda, barely containing her jealousy, shot Alcina a warning glance before dragging Y/n toward the cold, metallic operating table. The restraints clamped around Y/n's limbs, rendering her immobile as Miranda prepared for the procedure.

In a hushed tone, Miranda informed Y/n, "I won't sedate you. The pain will be excruciating, you may pass out if it becomes too much. Do try to endure it."

Terror etched across Y/n's face as she pleaded, "Please, Miranda, don't do this! I beg you!"

Ignoring her pleas, Miranda proceeded with the surgery. Y/n's back lay exposed as Miranda carefully opened it, revealing the vulnerability of her spine. The cadou, an otherworldly entity, awaited its integration.

As the cadou attached itself to Y/n's spinal cord, an indescribable pain erupted through her body. Each invasive touch sent waves of agony coursing through her, and the room spun in a disorienting blur. Y/n's cries of anguish filled the chamber, the torment escalating with each passing moment.

Alcina observed with detached interest, a smirk playing on her lips. "Fascinating, isn't it?" she remarked, her tone betraying a hint of sadistic pleasure.

Y/n, on the brink of unconsciousness, gasped for breath between tortured sobs. "Please, make it stop!" she begged, her plea lost in the sea of agony.

The room echoed with the unsettling sounds of the unholy procedure, and as Y/n succumbed to the unbearable pain, the darkness claimed her consciousness, leaving her at the mercy of Miranda's experiments.

As the procedure unfolded, Y/n's body underwent a miraculous transformation. The wound on her back healed before their eyes, revealing the regenerative capabilities bestowed upon her by the cadou. Satisfied with the apparent success, Miranda covered Y/n with a blanket and gently laid her on her back, allowing her to rest while she conferred with the other lords.

As Miranda engaged in conversation with the remaining lords, Alcina couldn't shake the uneasy feeling that something was amiss. Her sharp instincts led her back to Y/n's side. The sight of her serene form beneath the blanket belied the turmoil within.

A few minutes passed, and Alcina's suspicion deepened. She leaned in to examine Y/n more closely, her hand gently brushing against Y/n's forehead. Alarmed, she realized that Y/n was burning up with a fever.

"Something's not right," Alcina muttered to herself, her concern deepening as Y/n began to stir.

Y/n's eyes fluttered open, her gaze unfocused and delirious. In a weak voice, she mumbled, "Am I dying?"

Alcina, kneeling beside her, brushed the hair from Y/n's face with a soft touch. "No, my dear. You're going to be okay," she reassured, trying to offer comfort amidst the uncertainty.

The three other lords had departed, leaving Alcina alone with the ailing Y/n. Concern etched across her elegant features, Alcina made her way to Mother Miranda to share her discovery.

"There's something wrong with your experiment. The girl has a fever, and she seems... weakened," Alcina stated, her gaze unwavering.

Miranda, initially dismissive, turned her attention to Alcina. "It's merely a side effect. The transformation is taxing on the body. She will recover," she asserted, though a flicker of uncertainty crossed her face.

Alcina, not entirely convinced, kept a watchful eye on Y/n, determined to uncover the mystery shrouding the girl's newfound existence in the village of shadows.

An hour passed, and Alcina vigilantly watched over the delirious Y/n as Miranda continued her cleanup and note-taking from the procedure. The room, once filled with the unsettling sounds of experimentation, now echoed with an uneasy silence.

Y/n stirred once more, her eyes clouded with confusion and her words a desperate murmur. "I'm sorry... I'm so sorry..." she repeated, the weight of remorse heavy in her delirium.

Alcina, attempting to make sense of the apologies, leaned in to question Y/n. "Sorry for what, my dear? What troubles you?" she inquired, her concern etched across her regal features.

Before Y/n could respond, a sudden and violent seizure gripped her, her eyes rolling back, and her body convulsing. Alcina reacted swiftly, rushing to Mother Miranda to alert her to the dire situation.

Initially skeptical, Miranda tried to dismiss Alcina's concerns, but as the severity became evident, her cold exterior cracked. Panic flashed in Miranda's eyes as she rushed to Y/n's side, abandoning her usual composure. "What is happening?" Miranda demanded, urgency replacing her usual stoicism.

Alcina, maintaining her calm, swiftly procured a sedative and a needle, handing them to Miranda. "She's having a seizure. We need to sedate her," Alcina asserted, her eyes locked on Y/n's convulsing form.

Miranda, finally acknowledging the gravity of the situation, nodded and carefully dosed the sedative before injecting it into Y/n's arm. The seizure subsided, leaving Y/n disoriented, her gaze searching for something to anchor her faltering consciousness.

Miranda, an uncharacteristic gentleness in her touch, carded her hand through Y/n's hair, trying to comfort the distressed soul. "It's alright. You're going to be okay," Miranda murmured, her usual air of authority replaced by genuine concern.

Y/n, still caught in the throes of delirium, continued to murmur apologies, her voice fading as the sedative took effect. "I'm sorry... I didn't mean to..." she whispered before succumbing to the soothing embrace of unconsciousness, leaving Miranda and Alcina to grapple with the uncertainties of her tortured existence.

Y/n lay in peaceful slumber in a quiet room, the traces of the recent ordeal evident on her exhausted form. Meanwhile, Miranda and Alcina retreated to a dimly lit corner to discuss the unsettling events that had unfolded.

Alcina, her piercing gaze fixed on Miranda, couldn't resist probing the woman about her unexpected display of gentleness. "I never took you for a caretaker, Miranda. What is it about this girl that softened your resolve?" Alcina's tone held a curious edge, her eyes searching for the cracks in Miranda's composed facade.

Miranda, initially dismissive, tried to deflect the question. "It's merely practical. She's a valuable asset, and her well-being is crucial for the success of my experiments."

Alcina, undeterred, continued to press. "Practicality, Miranda? I've seen you deal with subjects before, but I've never seen you show such concern. What's different this time?"

Miranda's gaze drifted towards the sleeping Y/n, a subtle smile gracing her features. Alcina, noticing the uncharacteristic expression, couldn't help but smirk knowingly. "Ah, Miranda, it seems you've developed a soft spot for the girl. How intriguing."

Rolling her eyes, Miranda attempted to maintain her stoic composure. "Don't be absurd, Alcina. I have no sentimental attachments."

But Alcina persisted, her smirk widening. "Oh, spare me. I can see it in your eyes. There's more to this than practicality. Admit it, Miranda, there are feelings involved."

Miranda's stern facade wavered, a flicker of vulnerability crossing her features. She glanced back at Y/n, still peacefully asleep, and finally conceded, "Fine, there might be... something. But it's irrelevant. She's a means to an end."

Alcina, satisfied with her victory, chuckled softly. "Love can be a powerful force, Miranda. Don't underestimate its influence, especially in these peculiar circumstances."

Miranda shot Alcina a warning glare, but a hint of uncertainty lingered in her eyes. As they continued to observe the slumbering Y/n, the room held an air of unspoken complexity, leaving the emotions between them shrouded in the village's lingering shadows.

Days passed, and Y/n's recovery unfolded slowly. The room, once filled with the tense atmosphere of experiments, now echoed with the soft sounds of her mending breaths. Miranda and Alcina, though each harboring their own thoughts, found themselves drawn back to the side of the convalescent.

Y/n, still in the embrace of healing dreams, remained oblivious to the silent conversations that transpired between Miranda and Alcina. The air hung thick in the room, as both women navigated the uncharted waters of emotions they were reluctant to acknowledge.

Miranda, ever the stoic figure, observed Y/n with a mix of clinical interest and an unfamiliar tenderness. Alcina, however, couldn't resist the opportunity to tease the usually unyielding Mother Miranda. "I must say, Miranda, you're becoming quite the caregiver. Who would have thought?"

Miranda shot Alcina a withering glance. "This changes nothing. She's still a tool, a means to an end," she asserted, though the conviction in her voice wavered.

Alcina, undeterred, circled the topic like a predator circling its prey. "And yet, you smile when you look at her. I never thought I'd see the day when Mother Miranda, the cold and calculating, would show such vulnerability."

Miranda's gaze flickered towards Y/n, who stirred in her sleep. The small smile that graced Miranda's lips went unnoticed by her, but not by the persistent Alcina.

"I wonder, Miranda, are you starting to care for her in a way that goes beyond your experiments?" Alcina's voice held a teasing lilt, testing the boundaries of Miranda's carefully guarded emotions.

Miranda sighed, her defenses momentarily crumbling. "Feelings have no place in my work. This is merely an unexpected complication."

Alcina, satisfied with her playful interrogation, leaned against the wall. "Time will tell, Miranda. Sometimes the unexpected can lead to the most intriguing developments."

As the room returned to its hushed stillness, the unresolved tension lingered in the air. Miranda, with a final glance at the resting Y/n, left the room, her thoughts trailing in her wake. The delicate dance of emotions within the village of shadows continued, shrouded in mysteries that even the formidable Mother Miranda couldn't fully unravel.

Y/n awakened in an unfamiliar bedroom, the soft glow of an early dawn filtering through the curtains. The room felt both foreign and oddly comforting. Wrapping a blanket around herself, she ventured further into the unfamiliar space. The mirror above the dresser caught her eye, and as she glanced into it, a shiver ran down her spine. Staring back at her were piercing yellow eyes, a stark contrast to the familiar gaze she once knew.

A sense of disquiet settled in her chest as Y/n made her way through the house. The walls adorned with paintings told tales of a history she couldn't quite grasp. As she ascended a staircase, she found herself drawn to the dim light seeping through a partially open door. Pushing the door open, Y/n discovered a room bathed in the soft glow of lanterns. Books lined shelves, creating a haven for knowledge. It was a library, a vast collection of forgotten stories and untold secrets.

As Y/n continued to explore the depths of the library, she stumbled upon an unexpected sight. There, on a cozy couch, sat Mother Miranda, appearing surprisingly domestic. The ambient light revealed the striking features that had been concealed by the formidable facade—piercing blue eyes, defined cheekbones, a sharp jawline, and long, flowing blonde hair. Y/n found herself momentarily captivated by the unexpected beauty of the woman.

Lost in her observations, Y/n failed to notice Miranda rising from the couch and silently approaching. The sudden presence startled her, and Y/n turned to find Miranda standing before her. With a teasing smirk, Miranda directed Y/n's face up by her chin, forcing her to meet those intense blue eyes.

"Well, little crow, did you enjoy the view?" Miranda's voice dripped with amusement as her fingers traced lightly along Y/n's jawline and down her neck. Y/n's breath hitched, the unexpected intimacy causing a blush to creep across her cheeks.

Miranda, reveling in the effect, continued to tease. "You seem quite taken by the beauty that's been right in front of you all along. Did you think I was only capable of cruelty?"

Y/n stammered, attempting to regain composure. "I... I just didn't expect to see you like this."

Miranda chuckled, the sultry sound echoing in the library. "Expectations can be deceiving, little crow. There's more to me than meets the eye."

The teasing continued as Miranda leaned in, her lips grazing Y/n's ear. "You know, little crow, you're quite enchanting when you're flustered. It's a sight to behold."

Y/n, now thoroughly flustered, turned away, attempting to hide her embarrassment. Miranda's sultry chuckle filled the air, and she whispered something that made Y/n's blush deepen.

"Such a delicate little thing, aren't you? Easily rattled." Miranda's voice was a sultry purr as she continued to playfully torment Y/n. "But there's a certain allure in vulnerability, don't you think?"

As the teasing dance between them unfolded, the library became a stage for the interplay of emotions, leaving Y/n caught in the intricate web that Mother Miranda seemed to delight in weaving.

Y/n, still slightly flustered from Miranda's teasing, attempted to regain her composure. Clearing her throat, she decided to address the pressing matter at hand. "Mother Miranda, can you please explain what happened during the experiment? I need to understand."

Miranda, with an air of mystery, simply responded, "All in good time, little crow. Right now, you should focus on resting." Her tone left no room for negotiation, and Y/n, unaware of her own fatigue, reluctantly agreed to heed Miranda's advice.

Guiding Y/n back to the room she had awakened in, Miranda spoke softly, "You'll find everything you need in here. Rest well. I'm just across the hall if you require anything."

As Miranda bid her goodnight, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of vulnerability that lingered between them. A step forward from Miranda closed the distance, and Y/n instinctively took a step back, her back meeting the door. A question caught in her throat, silenced by the unexpected proximity.

With a tenderness that contradicted her usual demeanor, Miranda placed a gentle kiss on the corner of Y/n's mouth. "Goodnight, my dear," she murmured before retreating to her own room, leaving Y/n standing there, stunned and breathless.

The closing of Miranda's door jolted Y/n back to reality, and she let out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. The woman's unexpected gesture left Y/n grappling with a newfound awareness, a whisper of desire lingering in the air of the village of shadows. As Y/n settled into the room, the mysteries surrounding her and Mother Miranda only deepened, leaving her with more questions than answers as she succumbed to the beckoning embrace of sleep.

Miranda, having concluded her work in the lab, was making her way back to her room when she heard a faint murmur emanating from Y/n's room. A subtle hesitation gripped her, but an inexplicable concern propelled her forward. Something compelled Miranda to check on the younger woman.

Upon entering Y/n's room, the sight that greeted Miranda was disconcerting. Y/n thrashed in her sleep, as if caught in the clutches of an unseen adversary. Miranda, suppressing her usual stoicism, approached the bedside with a mix of curiosity and worry.

She leaned in, her voice a gentle murmur, "Y/n, wake up. You're having a nightmare."

Y/n jolted awake, eyes wide and frantic, scanning the room. When her gaze finally settled on Miranda, relief and fear mingled in her expression. Her body trembled violently, and it was evident that the nightmare had left its mark.

Miranda reached out, placing a reassuring hand on Y/n's shoulder. "It's over now. You're safe," she murmured, attempting to ground the distressed woman.

However, as Miranda spoke, Y/n's eyes seemed to lose focus, the distant look of derealization clouding her gaze. She shook uncontrollably, caught in the aftermath of the vivid dream that still haunted her subconscious.

"Y/n, can you hear me?" Miranda tried to connect with her, concern etched on her features. Y/n's distant gaze met hers, but the glazed-over look persisted, as if she were trapped in the remnants of a fading nightmare.

As Y/n struggled in the grip of derealization, her trembling hand reached out blindly, seeking something tangible to anchor her in reality. Miranda, attuned to the vulnerability of the moment, gently intercepted Y/n's searching hand, clasping it in her own.

With a tenderness that belied her usual demeanor, Miranda held Y/n's hand securely, occasionally squeezing it as if to reassure her. "Come back to me, little crow," she whispered, her voice a soothing melody cutting through the disorienting haze.

Miranda continued to speak softly, coaxing Y/n back to the present moment. "You're safe. Focus on my voice, on the touch of my hand. Breathe, my dear. In and out. In and out."

Y/n, still caught in the aftermath of the nightmare, slowly started to respond to Miranda's gentle guidance. Her vacant gaze began to regain focus, and Miranda maintained a steady presence, offering a lifeline to the shaken woman.

As Y/n gradually returned to the present, the tremors persisted, and Miranda adapted her approach. She guided Y/n to hold a piece of ice, the sudden cold a sensory shock that could help ground her. "Feel the cold, little crow. Focus on the sensation. It's real. You're here."

Miranda continued to talk Y/n through the grounding process, her voice a steady anchor in the tumultuous sea of emotions. "You're strong, my dear. You've faced nightmares before, and you'll conquer them again. Breathe with me. In and out. In and out."

Miranda, her concern evident, gently asked Y/n, "What happened, my dear?" Y/n, still recovering from the nightmare-induced haze, responded in a detached manner, "Nightmare. Don't wanna talk."

Miranda nodded understandingly, respecting Y/n's need for silence. "That's okay, my dear. Take your time," she reassured, her voice a soft whisper.

Sensing Y/n's need for grounding, Miranda delicately broached the topic of physical comfort. "Is it okay if I offer a bit more comfort, perhaps some physical contact?" she asked, her gaze steady.

Y/n, still shaken but willing to accept solace, nodded in agreement. "Yes, please," she replied, her voice a fragile whisper.

Miranda, with a tenderness that defied her usual demeanor, wiped the lingering tears from Y/n's cheeks. She then cupped Y/n's face, her touch gentle yet firm, providing a stabilizing anchor for the distressed woman. Y/n, seeking solace, leaned into Miranda's touch, finding a momentary refuge in the connection.

As the warmth of Miranda's hand enveloped her, Y/n felt a fleeting sense of security. Miranda, respecting the delicate balance, continued to caress Y/n's cheek, offering a silent reassurance through the language of touch.

In the quiet aftermath, Miranda broached another option. "Would you like to stay here, or would you feel more comfortable in my room?" she inquired, her concern unwavering.

Y/n, craving the presence of the person who had become an unexpected source of comfort, hesitated before answering, "I want to go to your room."

Miranda nodded, accepting Y/n's choice without judgment. "Very well, my dear. Let's go," she said, guiding Y/n toward her room, the shadows of the village concealing the complexities of their connection, woven through shared nightmares and moments of vulnerability.

Miranda guided Y/n to her room, a space that held the echo of enigmatic secrets. As they entered, Miranda ensured Y/n was comfortably settled in bed. The room, bathed in a soft glow from a small lamp, retained an air of serenity.

Miranda excused herself briefly to get ready for bed. Before leaving, Y/n, with a quiet vulnerability, whispered, "Please don't leave." Miranda, stroking Y/n's hair soothingly, assured her, "I'll be right back. Just getting ready."

True to her word, Miranda returned after a brief moment, finding Y/n still awaiting her presence. She dimmed the bright overhead light, leaving only the gentle illumination of the lamp on her side of the bed. The room now held a subtle warmth, a sanctuary against the shadows that lingered beyond.

Miranda slipped into bed, opening her arms in an unspoken invitation. "I'm here, only if you're comfortable," she whispered, her voice a soft reassurance.

Y/n, grateful for the offered comfort, responded by snuggling close to Miranda, wrapping an arm around her waist. She rested her face in the crook of Miranda's neck, finding solace in the reassuring scent that enveloped her – spicy, warm, and infused with the subtle allure of amber.

In the quiet intimacy of Miranda's room, Y/n found herself grappling with the intricacies of her emotions. She hesitated for a moment before expressing her inner turmoil. "I don't understand this," she admitted quietly.

Miranda, lying beside her, propped herself up on an elbow, curiosity gleaming in her eyes. "What do you mean?" she inquired, the dim light of the room casting a gentle glow on their faces.

Y/n sighed, her gaze fixed on an indistinct point in the room. "I should be mad at you for what you did, for everything, but I can't seem to be," she confessed, a hint of confusion in her voice.

Miranda, understanding the weight of Y/n's words, reached over and gently covered them both with the comforter. With a tenderness that belied her usual stoicism, she traced random patterns on Y/n's back while her thumb caressed the younger woman's cheek. "Emotions are complex, my dear. Sometimes, it takes time to unravel them, to understand the why and the how," she offered, her voice a soothing murmur.

Y/n, comforted by Miranda's touch, hummed softly in response. They lingered in a comfortable silence for a few minutes, the unspoken understanding between them weaving a delicate tapestry.

Breaking the quietude, Y/n finally spoke, "Thank you, Mother Miranda."

Miranda, her eyes reflecting a mixture of surprise and curiosity, gently corrected, "You can call me Miranda, dear." She quirked an eyebrow, prompting Y/n to explain her gratitude.

Y/n hesitated for a moment before answering, "Thank you for saving me."

"You're welcome, my dear," Miranda responded, her gaze softening as she continued to trace patterns on Y/n's back. "You were worth saving, and the reason goes beyond what I had initially thought those weeks ago."

Y/n, looking at Miranda with a mix of curiosity and confusion, questioned, "What do you mean? What's the reason?"

Miranda, her expression momentarily contemplative, sighed softly. "It's a complex matter, emotions. I find myself quite taken with you, more so than I had anticipated. The reasons, the nuances, they extend beyond the boundaries I had set for myself."

Y/n's brows furrowed in genuine confusion. "Taken with me? But why? After everything that happened..."

Miranda, still tracing comforting patterns on Y/n's back, met her gaze.

"Emotions don't always adhere to logic, my dear. There's something about you that intrigues me, something that defies the usual calculations of my mind."

Y/n, grappling with the unexpected revelation, asked, "What do you mean by 'taken with me'? What are these feelings?"

Miranda, her usual enigmatic facade momentarily replaced by a hint of vulnerability, admitted, "I'm not entirely sure. It's a puzzle even I haven't fully deciphered. But there's a connection, a fascination that goes beyond the confines of my usual pursuits."

Y/n, despite the confusion, felt a sense of warmth in Miranda's admission. "Taken with me?" she repeated, a small smile playing on her lips. "I never thought I'd hear Mother Miranda say something like that."

Miranda chuckled softly. "Nor did I, my dear. But here we are, entangled in the complexities of emotions that neither of us fully understands."

Y/n, feeling a surge of confidence, sat up in bed, facing Miranda. The older woman's gaze fell on Y/n's now yellow eyes, and she couldn't help but comment, "Quite the vibrant change in eye color, my dear."

Y/n, embarrassed, buried her face in her hands. Miranda, true to her nature, seized the opportunity to tease. "Oh, come now. Don't hide those captivating eyes. They suit you, little crow."

After enduring enough of Miranda's teasing, Y/n playfully exclaimed, "Enough, Miranda. Seriously, stop."

Miranda, ever the provocateur, quirked an eyebrow and smirked, clearly enjoying the reaction she was provoking. But before she could respond, Y/n decided to take matters into her own hands—quite literally.

In a surprising move, Y/n shut Miranda up by leaning in and capturing her lips in a kiss. Miranda, initially caught off guard, quickly reciprocated, the tension between them shifting into an unexpected yet charged intimacy.

When they finally pulled apart, Miranda looked at Y/n with a mix of surprise and intrigue. The room was enveloped in a comfortable silence for a few moments, both women seemingly stunned by the sudden turn of events.

Miranda, not one to let a moment pass, pulled Y/n closer until she was straddling her lap. Y/n gasped at the sudden closeness, locking eyes with Miranda. The older woman smirked, reveling in the effect she had on the younger one.

As Y/n began to question Miranda, she was promptly cut off mid-sentence. Miranda, with a devilish glint in her eyes, decided actions spoke louder than words.

Their lips met again in a fervent kiss, the air thick with a newfound tension. Y/n, lacing her fingers through Miranda's hair, surrendered to the unexpected yet irresistible pull of desire, the village of shadows bearing witness to the unfolding of a connection that transcended the boundaries of reason and expectation.

In the months that followed, Y/n had embraced her role as the fifth lord with a fierce determination, earning a reputation for being cold, calculating, and intimidating. The powers granted by the Cadou had transformed her into a formidable force—rapid regeneration, the ability to shapeshift into a crow, mental manipulation, superhuman strength, speed, biological immortality, and unwavering durability. These powers mirrored those of Mother Miranda, forging a dynamic partnership that became the talk of the village.

The relationship between Y/n and Miranda had evolved into a public affair, sparking fear among the villagers. Disobeying any of the lords now meant facing not only the wrath of the individual lord but also the combined might of Mother Miranda and Y/n. The village quivered under the weight of their influence, and the dynamic duo maintained order with an iron grip.

Despite the fear they instilled, Mother Miranda and Y/n worked tirelessly with the other lords to resurrect Miranda's long-lost daughter. The process was intricate and delicate, requiring the combined powers and knowledge of the lords. Y/n, serving as a steadfast support by Miranda's side, became an integral part of the resurrection plan.

The relationship between Mother Miranda and Y/n deepened as they navigated the complexities of their roles, both in the village and in their personal lives. The shared goal of reuniting Miranda with her daughter forged a connection that surpassed the surface-level fears and rumors. Together, they faced the challenges posed by their powers, their duties, and the intricate web of emotions that bound them in the village of shadows.

#mother miranda x y/n #resident evil mother miranda #mother miranda x reader #mother miranda #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #donna beneviento #resident evil village

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we-be-writing-bts-stuff · 1 year

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Thank you so much for requesting this love. I absolutely loved writing this. It morphed into an office au, co-worker au, and a dash of unrequited love. I'm a sucker for only one bed and enemies to lovers. I hope you enjoy!

~Bagel

Pairing: Namjoon x reader

Word count: 1011

“What the actual hell?” You say as you walk into the hotel room. “There’s supposed to be two beds.” You continue to complain as the single queen sized bed sits in the middle of the room. You were on a business trip with your least favorite co-worker and while you knew that the company would cheap out and only get one room, you never thought they would only get one bed as well.

“It was probably a mistake on the hotel’s end. There’s no way that the company would purposefully make us share a bed.” Namjoon says. He looked about as tired as you felt.

"Nuh-uh. I'm going to talk to the front desk. There has to be a way to fix this." You say. Turning to leave the room before a hand wraps around your wrist to stop you.

"Stop being a hot head and get in the bed. It's 1 am and we've been traveling all day." Namjoon says. Looking over at you. "If it bothers you that bad, I can sleep in the chair or something."

"You're not sleeping in the chair. You'll fuck up your back and then the presentation tomorrow is gonna suck. And then my ass is on the line if shit hits the fan." You quickly respond. "I can sleep in the chair I guess."

"Or we can be adults and just sleep in the bed on opposite sides. We're here for one night and I promise that I'm not going to do anything. We just need some sleep and get to the meeting tomorrow." He says. As much as you didn't want to do this, he had a point. You were both adults and you had no reason to think he would try something during the night. You were both exhausted from traveling and while he got on your nerves and questioned every little thing you did in the office, he was nothing but a gentleman in every other aspect.

"Fine. Fine, we can share the bed. I'm taking the side closest to the window." You tell him. Walking over and depositing your bag on your claimed part of the bed.

You make quick work of hanging up your clothes that were necessary for the meeting and gathering your things for your nighttime routine.

Besides a few snippy comments from both parties, you both got through your routines and ended up in the bed. This was when you began to question whether this was a good decision or not. Facing away from him and towards the window, you move even farther away until you are barely on the bed.

A groan from behind you making you freeze. “Stop moving and try to sleep.” Namjoon hisses.

“Sorry.” You whisper out. Finally closing your eyes and forcing yourself to relax.

-----

The sun hitting your eyes is the first thing you notice as you start to wake. The next is the comforting warmth draped against your back and the weight of an arm over your waist. In your half asleep state, you turn towards the warmth. Your face hides in it and you feel sleep start to tug at your consciousness again. Hands reaching out to grab whatever was making you feel so good. You find purchase on some fabric and hear a soft groan. The arm tightening around you and your legs tangling with others.

Hearing the alarm is when your mind fully begins to wake. Your eyes slowly open and the first thing you see is a gray shirt. It's soft under your fingers and the chest underneath is firm and toned from what you can feel. A grunt pulls you from your reverie and your gaze moves up to the face of the person you were cuddling with.

It's like a bucket of ice water was thrown on you when you register the face of your bed partner. You let out a squeak and push hard against Namjoon. Nearly pushing the man off the bed in your rush to get away from him. Scrambling to the other side of the bed.

“What the hell?!” Namjoon growls out. His voice deep and rough from sleep. His hand reaching over for the alarm that started to turn it off. “What was that for?”

“You, me. Cuddling.” You start to babble off random words that were popping into your head as you gesture wildly between the two of you. Namjoon only looking more confused from your explanation.

“Take a deep breath and relax.” He says. Interrupting your rambling and rubbing at his face. “Once you can speak in full sentences, explain what happened.”

You roll your eyes at his tone but follow what he said. Taking those calming breaths and think about what you wanted to say. If you even want to tell him still at this point. You shake your head and roll your eyes once you calm down.

“Nah. I don’t think I want to anymore.” You tell him. Pushing off the covers to get up and start your day. Rushing to get to the bathroom and shower before he can.

“You’re insufferable.” He mutters. Just loud enough for you to hear him before you close the door behind you. Blush dusting your cheeks as you think of cuddling with the man just in the other room.

While he would never tell you, he was awake far before you were and knew what was happening. Seeing you so content in his arms and sleeping so soundly pulled at his heartstrings. It felt natural, almost right, to have you so close to him. His heart was still pounding in his chest, those feelings he pushed down for so long resurfacing with wild abandon.

“Get it together Namjoon. You have a long day ahead.” He softly says once he could hear the water running. Getting out of the bed to get his clothing together for after his shower once you were done. The two of you chose to ignore what happened for the rest of the day even though you both couldn’t think of anything else.

#reader x namjoon #kim namjoon #bts namjoon #enemies to lovers #bts fluff #office au #one bed trope #bts requests #bts drabble

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even-if-in-another-time · 1 year

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listen. okay. i haven’t edited this since 2:36 am last night and i am half convinced that i just blacked out because i only have a vague recollection of writing this and it’s just “OH GOD SOPHIE WITH GLASSES” leave me alone. also keefe is she/they according to my only-slightly-consciousness so take that as you will

(@synonymroll648 this is your fault and you should feel bad /j/lh)

keefe didn’t pay attention to the leaping crystal they grabbed, just that it was warm and comforting around her neck. they laughed quietly when they materialized under a blue-petaled tree, the lights of havenfield cutting through the night and thin fog from the ocean off the cliffs. that tracks. she dropped the home crystal edaline had insisted on giving her from her palm, it falling to rest under their shirt. it should have been fine, but she was just tired as fuck and her father wouldn’t stop making snide comments and it was so completely and utterly fine but they just didn’t have the energy to deal with the world tonight, and apparently this was the one corner of it that was bearable.

they didn’t have any hesitation anymore about letting herself in the back door. “it’s called a home crystal for a reason, love,” edaline had told her with a smile when she had apologized for the umpteenth time. they didn’t start crying, and anyone claiming otherwise was lying, and maybe she stopped apologizing so much after that.

the light was still on under sophie’s door, because of course it was, at 12 am on a school night. keefe pushed it open. “hey, dumbass,” she announced blindly into the room. “you should be asleep.” (keefe was glad that she wasn’t, and would not be admitting that to anyone.) sophie was sitting on the ground next to her desk, spine pressed against the glass of her window and a book propped up on her knees, brow furrowed. the pencil in her hand was pressed up against the bridge of gold-rimmed glasses, and she looked up and the corner of her mouth lifted, and something in keefe melted just a bit. they crossed the room, wordlessly pushing sophie’s book to the side to settle their head in her lap, fingers immediately moving to run through their hair, and she exhaled. shoulders leaving their rigid stance. inhaled. sophie’s room smelled like her, like vanilla and matcha and something warm.

“talk?” sophie’s voice was unbearably soft. keefe shook her head, temple pressing against her knee.

“just this.” they closed their eyes. “just you,” they mumbled.

sophie hummed in response, lopsided grin apparent in her voice.

keefe felt the spine of her book resting back on the crown of their head, the sound of her pencil scribbling intermittently against it, and keefe didn’t know how she was supposed to deal with this enormity inside of her chest, didn’t know if their ribcage was built to hold this much without shattering. sophie’s carpet was soft against their back. maybe cracked ribs are worth trading for this, she thought nonsensically. they let the world slip away, let it fall into the darkness behind her eyelids and the imprint of gold-rimmed glasses in it.

———

the light around keefe was warm when they opened their eyes. the world around them felt like sophie. she was distantly aware that thought made no sense, and distantly couldn’t give any less fucks. she lifted her head up, pushing something heavy off their forehead, laughing when she realized it was sophie’s book, and the world came back in little pieces. sophie was slumped against the window above them, glasses slipping down the slope of her nose, lashes casting a long shadow across her cheekbones from the lamp on on her desk. the clock by her bed read 2:17 a.m. keefe sat up.

“soph, love.” her voice was quiet and rough. “come on, you need to get to bed.” sophie mumbled something incomprehensible, squeaking as she curled in on herself, and for a moment keefe had the overwhelming urge to savor this moment, to paint sophie and her auburn lashes in ink and write her down over and over on every canvas they could find.

keefe relented and scooped up sophie’s boneless form in her arms, sliding off her glasses and pushing a strand of hair off her forehead. sophie’s brows furrowed, and she tried to protest with something about studying, even as she melted into keefe. she grinned and walked across the room to lay sophie down on her bed, pulling a blanket over her. they turned to switch the light off, then sophie’s arm reached out and tugged on her wrist until she climbed under the covers alongside her.

“c‘mere,” sophie mumbled, curling herself into keefe’s chest. her hair smelled like coconut.

“keefe?”

“mm?”

“i love you.”

keefe wanted to say so much, wanted to scream and cry and never let go of this softness, never give it up. instead, she just wrapped her arms tighter around sophie, pressing her lips against her forehead. a fine replacement.

“love you too, sophie. love you so much.” she inhaled. matcha, vanilla, coconut. exhaled. warmth.

cracked ribs were fair trade for this.

#i am screaming and losing my mind at how unbearably dumb this fic is #i’m not even joking when i say i don’t remember writing this by the way #so i’m just gonna. throw this one to the rabid wolves that make up the kotlc fandom i guess #izzy tag #(I BLAME XEM)#sokeefe #sophie foster #keefe sencen #the genderfluid keefe agenda

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starlightsoulwriting · 2 years

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Ghost-Blood//Revenant: 9

Khonshu, Marc Spector, Steven Grant x Fem!Reader, with a side of Frienemy Harrow

AO3

other chapters

Rating: PG-13/T, for cursing and later violence

Warnings: None

Summary: A milestone for you and Steven proves angst-inducing for Marc.

You waited sat outside Steven’s apartment door for approximately 1 hour and 42 minutes, waiting for him to get off shift and usher you inside with a worried look, having received the rushed text you’d sent him in the cab and absolutely fussing over you as soon as you came into view, barely giving you enough time to set your vegetables on the counter before you were swept up in the whirlwind of his concern.

“Oh dearie me, you should’ve gone home, what were you thinking falling asleep outside my apartment like that, in your condition?” He held your upper arms softly, not even having put his messenger bag up yet, as he looked you up and down for signs of damage. “Sarah called and told me you’d been taken to A&E, but I couldn’t find out where you were, and you weren’t answering your phone, and- “ His entire frame slumped as he lost steam all at once, and he pulled you in for a delicate hug, his form draping over yours in a comforting embrace.

You could only hold him back, not afraid to squash him harder than he did you - you’d noticed he liked the pressure.

Your response seemed to get him over himself, because he pulled you in tighter, burying head into your neck. “Please tell me you’re gonna be alright?” He said it like it was a question, but you nodded all the same.

“I’m alright now, baby,” You ran a hand through his pretty dark hair and kissed the top of his head. “Even if my feet are sore.”

“Then what are we doing, standing around like this?” That sure got his attention quickly, shooting back to look at you with upturned eyebrows, hands going back to your shoulders and shoving you gently toward his couch. “You go ahead and get settled, I’ll find something comfortable for you to wear.”

You let Steven dote on you without push back, accepting the Colombia sweater he’d stolen back onto your form, now smelling of the organic rosemary and lavender scented washing detergent he used, along with a pair of sleep shorts that Steven claimed never fit him quite right anyway. They had wonky elastic, and hung off you in a weird way, but at this point you were beyond complaining. They were soft though.

You spent a quiet night in, ordering some dinner for delivery and watching one of your comfort movies on the TV, curling into his side and reveling in just how warm he was, head dropping to his shoulder the more tired you got. Somehow, despite spending the last two days fading in and out of consciousness you were still exhausted. Whatever toll this whole thing exacted on you physically, it took a lot out of you, and it would probably be a few more days at least before you felt like yourself again.

You know, if you ever felt like yourself again.

Before you knew it, your eyes drifted shut, and by the time Steven shook you awake, it was dark outside. You groaned harshly at the disturbance and curled against him tighter.

“Aw, love, don’t be like that.” He sounded half-way to laughing at you but you were too groggy to care. “It's getting late, you should go home and get some real rest.”

You just closed your eyes tighter. “Wanna stay here, sleep next to you.”

You felt him stop breathing, the hand on your shoulder tightening slightly.

“You’d hardly get any sleep, the way I am, staying up late and all.”

“Sleep deprivation makes sleepwalking worse, you know.” You opened your eyes and gave him a narrow look. “If I could drag you to the doctor you’d know that.”

“I- well,” He spluttered, apparently not ready to have this conversation turn back on him. “I told you, I’m working up to it.”

“Hmm-hm.” You hummed, smiling softly and ducking back into your spot. “I just wanna hold you tonight, baby. Don’t wanna be alone.”

He let out a slow breath. “I just don’t wanna scare you off, with the sleepwalking. Or wake you up somehow.”

“I promise, even if I wake up to find you staring into the corner like something out of Blair Witch, you’re not gonna scare me off.” You kissed the closet part of his skin your lips could find, in the hollow of his throat, causing him to let out the tiniest, softest squeak that you only heard because you were so close to him. “And I already have multiple nightmares a night. At this rate, I’ll probably sleep better with you next to me.”

“Oh,” some of the tension he held loosened its grip on him, and he moved his hand to rub at the back of your neck, voice brimming with barely restrained emotion. “As long as you don’t mind, then I’d like that.”

You opened your eyes and sat up just to see him on the verge of tears.

“Oh, sweetheart,” You cupped his cheek, and he leaned into it as he closed his eyes before kissing your palm. “I’m sorry. I can go home if you’re not ready for this, I promise I’ll be fine -”

“No!” The word burst from his lips so fast even he looked surprised that he’d said it. “I. Well, I want you to stay, I just wasn't sure if…”

You swallowed thickly, so overcome with affection (and I dare say, love) for the man in front of you that it would have knocked you off your feet had you not already been sitting. “If…?”

“I don’t know, I’ve never had a real relationship before.” He shrugged, looking away from you and instead focusing his gaze on Gus, somewhere over your shoulder. “It’s scary. I don’t want to mess this up, you know?”

“Hey,” You pressed your forehead against his before meeting his lips in a slow but emotional kiss, holding him against you as if you could communicate all the depths of your feelings overflowing through your chest all at once. When you parted, his eyes were glassy, but he looked at you as if you hung the stars in the sky. “I may have nightmares, but I don’t scare easy. And I don’t plan on running off anytime soon, okay?”

“I love you.”

You froze. For a half second, the moment lasted for a lifetime as you watched a kaleidoscope of fear and affection and love, apparently, flicker across Steven’s face - before you dove back into his lips, clutching at the back of his head and pulling him as close to you as you could.

“I.” You pulled back, just to peck down his cheek and jaw, punctuating your words with tiny kisses that made him squirm. “Love. You. Too. Steven. Grant.”

You pulled back and leveled him with a giddy smile, before you were knocked back against the armrest of the couch with the force of his response, hand curling around the nape of your neck as he pressed his mouth to yours.

…That night, surrounded by the arms of the man that you love (and only slightly tangled in his ankle cuff), you think you slept the best you ever had, and Steven only stirred enough to wake you once.

…

Marc woke up to the full moon lighting up Steven’s apartment, and you in his arms.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t dare move you from where your head laid on his chest, a sense of guilt clawing up his throat, because surely, if you knew it wasn’t Steven you were laying on at the moment, you would slap him.

But, oh, he didn’t want to wake you. So instead of getting up to assuage his own conscience, he brushed hair off of your forehead, and rubbed the tips of his fingers over that spot on your temple you’d told Steven always ached, smiling slightly as you relaxed a fraction more, even as worry consumed him.

Khonshu wouldn’t react well to this new development given his unusual protectiveness over you, no doubt - and if you kept sleeping over he’d have to find a way to slip out without you noticing, which would absolutely be difficult. But the bird seemed to be silent for now.

But those were problems for Future Marc. Present Marc was more preoccupied over what left you in the hospital for two days, and so in need of comfort you’d sat in Steven’s grimy apartment hallway for almost two hours.

Because you hadn’t told Steven what happened. Or, moreover, had skillfully avoided telling him what happened by deflecting and minimizing. It had worked on his alter.

It had not worked on him.

“What's going on with you, doll?” He said softly to himself, staring at the ceiling rather than your pretty face and adorable nose and - “I gotta keep you safe for Steven, you know? Can’t do that if you don’t talk to him.”

He wouldn’t admit he cared, too. He couldn’t.

It would be too much to admit at the moment, when you were so desperately far from his reach and so beautifully close at the same time. Too much too admit when his emotions were so frayed already, between still worrying about Layla every moment he fronted, to trying to find out what was happening with the Ammit cult, to trying to suppress the pangs of jealousy that welled up when you kissed Steven like your life depended on it, even though it sent self-loathing lancing through him. Both for wanting someone that wasn’t his, and for the fact that he was growing too fond of you for someone still in love with his wife.

Naturally, you only responded to his brooding with a tiny snore.

And even that was cute.

Marc closed his eyes and let his head thunk on the pillow with a whumph.

He was fucked.

A/n: hot off the press with little to no editing, but hope you like it. Also if you want to have made love to steven that's a viable interpretation of this chapter but that's not how I'm viewing it. Go wild though. *gives steven a kiss**gives steven a kiss**gives steven a kiss**gives steven a - Also Marc knows what polyamory is he's just to depressed to think he can make a polycule work. And you know what? As it stands now, he's right. The key is communication and all, and there is little to no communicating happening right now. Have to put in some real work before that's an option my boy.

#moon knight x reader #steven grant x reader #marc spector x reader #khonshu x reader #x reader #fanfiction #my writing #reader insert #ghost-blood

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cleoenfaserum · 5 months

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THE THANKSGIVING of GENOCIDAL DISGRACE. BURY MY HEART AT WOUNDED KNEE.

Whether you want to acknowledge it or not and say it was something else other than GENOCIDE what the Europeans did to the Native Americans turning it into a THANKSGIVING of GENOCIDAL DISGRACE, is up to you.

youtube

852-1-1 https://youtu.be/K7jLeBWMA0U

We can also say the same thing is happening to the Palestinian people by the Zionist backed by guilt rotten USA, the similarity seems like a genocidal carbon copy of Native Americans and Palestinians put back to back. Lets not forget the root causes, the British Empire relenting to their Bastard son USA. The proud Prime Minister of Britain of Hindu ascendancy is doing to the Palestinian what his British predecessors have done to the Hindu people, let alone the killing 165 million Hindus that the British murdered in the span of 40 years in India, no consciousness there, as the Zionist to the Palestinians as the Nazis to the Jews. there is no sympathy, are there, huh. In conclusion, we can say that we have the British to thank for this genocidal tendency by inheriting, apparently, their genes (genocidal mental genes or disease, call it what you want). Oh, and by association we can also say that the Zionist have been affected by this mental genocidal disease as well.

Bury My Heart at Wounded Knee is a 2007 American Western historical drama television film adapted from the 1970 book of the same name by Dee Brown. The film was written by Daniel Giat, directed by Yves Simoneau and produced by HBO Films.

The book on which the film is based is a history of Native Americans in the American West in the 1860s and 1870s, focusing upon the transition from traditional ways of living to living on reservations and their treatment during that period. The title of the film and the book is taken from a line in the Stephen Vincent Benét poem "American Names." It was shot in Calgary, Alberta, Canada.

See the film...

852-1-2 https://ok.ru/video/2168758602267

youtube

852-1-3 https://youtu.be/ClHDRUukwh8

American Names

I have fallen in love with American names, The sharp names that never get fat, The snakeskin-titles of mining-claims, The plumed war-bonnet of Medicine Hat, Tucson and Deadwood and Lost Mule Flat.

Seine and Piave are silver spoons, But the spoonbowl-metal is thin and worn, There are English counties like hunting-tunes Played on the keys of a postboy’s horn, But I will remember where I was born.

I will remember Carquinez Straits, Little French Lick and Lundy’s Lane, The Yankee ships and the Yankee dates And the bullet-towns of Calamity Jane. I will remember Skunktown Plain.

I will fall in love with a Salem tree And a rawhide quirt from Santa Cruz, I will get me a bottle of Boston sea And a blue-gum nigger to sing me blues. I am tired of loving a foreign muse.

Rue des Martyrs and Bleeding-Heart-Yard, Senlis, Pisa, and Blindman’s Oast, It is a magic ghost you guard But I am sick for a newer ghost, Harrisburg, Spartanburg, Painted Post.

Henry and John were never so And Henry and John were always right? Granted, but when it was time to go And the tea and the laurels had stood all night, Did they never watch for Nantucket Light?

I shall not rest quiet in Montparnasse. I shall not lie easy at Winchelsea. You may bury my body in Sussex grass, You may bury my tongue at Champmédy. I shall not be there. I shall rise and pass. Bury my heart at Wounded Knee.

(source: American Names by Stephen Vincent Benet - Famous poems, famous poets. - All Poetry)

NOTES READ AND / OR LISTEN

When Native Americans Were Slaughtered in the Name of 'Civilization'SOURCE: When Native Americans Were Slaughtered in the Name of 'Civilization' | HISTORYok.ru

VID-1: https://ok.ru/video/7355251034675

THE WAR OF 1812SOURCE: When Native Americans Were Slaughtered in the Name of 'Civilization' | HISTORYok.ru

VID-2 https://ok.ru/video/7355260996147

THE BATTLE OF LITTLE BIG HORNSOURCE: When Native Americans Were Slaughtered in the Name of 'Civilization' | HISTORYok.ru

1-Donald Fixico — Wikipedia

2-Sac and Fox Nation — Wikipedia

#Youtube

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emstefani · 1 year

Note

What a weird coincidence that as I sent dms to officialmacgyvers etsy today and starting from last night now you are getting anons 🤔

Soooo weird he is still doing the same behavior if he isn't involved or whom he claims to not be in all this 🤔

Let alone his lil Tumblr diary page full of his funny autistic lies 🤔

How does you getting harassed equal out to justice for whats happening to him let alone if he claims not to be involved or aware 🤔

Makes zero sense and he keeps showing who and what he is over and over 🤔

I missed you so much daddy. As you know, I don't bother anybody or go out of my way reaching out to anybody so 2+2=5 I guess if I'm the one that stalks him when he is the one now using my last name. He really outed himself there. His anons and accounts are here whether you are in my life or not, you being absent from it does not change anything. I bet if it were the 50s, he would beat his wife that he only managed to get from an arranged marriage and her being his first cousin, lmao. That's all he can get though, taking his anger out on internet women who are mentally AND physically stronger than him. Guess it makes him feel strong but it's really the opposite because it feels as if a chihuahua has been barking at me for the last two years. Nothing more. ~ I am sorry for the approach I took a month back, I was tired, a little cranky since I was on my day period, and just felt overwhelmed because I so badly wanted this all to end and I still do. It really was stupid and I wish I could take this entire month of not talking back, part of me felt it was dying off everyday. I was consciously making you my enemy when we have always been on the same page and out for the same goal. Maybe I get that from my mom, when there is no clear person to blame, I sometimes start blaming the ones I love the most because there is no one else.

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thebloodydamnraven · 2 years

Text

I've a very personal relationship with music. I make friends of songs and lyrics, and my memories are categorised into melodies. But there is something else to be said here.

Do you ever hear a song and feel your very soul trembling? No, I don't mean the sort that comes with euphoria, although it can sometimes be that too. I mean the one that freezes time and thought, like you've crossed a threshold you're not meant to cross, or have uttered a name so powerful and forgotten, or have brought into being something you cannot fathom. One moment you were enjoying the music, the next, you feel it, deep in your bones, that something fundamental inside you has changed forever.

I am asking because I do, not a lot, but enough.

I could tell you about the one that feels like the sigh of an opening door into a dark, old forest with an air that gleams, about how every time I listen to it, I feel the enchantment sneaking into my consciousness. I could tell you about the one that feels eldritch, how I avoid looking at the mirror after listening to it, in fear of what I'd see, whether that's me or the shadow in the corner of the room. But these, are for another day.

There's a piece, the devil's trill sonata, it's called. The story goes that the composer, Giuseppe Tartini, was beaten by life. He intended to sleep one last night, and then end his life. To his surprise, the devil paid him a visit in his dream, and played a piece for him. Fifteen minutes of heart-wrenching beauty, and Tartini, who's gained immortal fame because of it, was never satisfied with it, claiming that what the devil played was so beautiful it could never be replicated.

It's close to my heart, with all its tears, and the painful scream that is the cadenza. I listened to it whenever I was beaten by life, and I cried every single time. The power in this piece was touchable, if you listened to it, and allowed it to carry your soul away, you'll hear more than just a violin. It was my pain and my relief, my frustration and my acceptance.

Surprisingly, it didn't take me long to learn it. I learned it way too fast, actually, as if the devil himself approved of my resolve. Yet every time I played it, it sounded mechanical, I was too careful not to make any mistakes, and so it always sounded empty and lifeless. I was not satisfied. My greatest relief was growing into another source of despair.

Then one day, tired and frustrated with life, as we all become at some point, I pick up the violin and play it. Raw, harsh, I don't care about mistakes. I want the violin to scream, I want to scream. And then there he is, sitting by the window, his eyes on me.

No horns, no tail, just a beautiful man in simple clothing. That was the beginning of my understanding of beings like him. They existed in superposition, just like light. Well, he is the angel of light in Christianity. The point is, he was Lucifer and Eblis and every name you had for him in every culture, but he showed himself to you in the form by which you called him. And when I played his piece, I wasn't calling for the devil to seduce me or terrify me. My call was for the fallen angel of music, the broken soul behind this heart-wrenching piece. My calling was my cry of frustration and pain, and he answered.

He watched me play, and he didn't say a single word. His eyes spoke, though: I know, they said, I understand. You're suffering and I see it, I acknowledge your desperation and your agony.

And it felt liberating. I understood now why Tartini couldn't play it perfectly, it was never meant to be played perfectly. It was meant to be played with soul.

When I was done, eyes full of tears and arms aching, he smiled at me, sad and gentle, and then he was gone.

Yet, that wasn't the last I saw of him.

He seemed to appear whenever I played with emotion, a shadow in the corner of my vision. Sometimes he'd allow me to see him, sometimes he'd allow me to perceive that he was there, but not directly. But he was there. It took some time for me to lose my nervousness and self-consciousness around him, but I did. And by then, he was more open. Giving compliments, advices, encouragements, sometimes even smiles. I didn't need a teacher, then, I had the angel of music himself.

He's still my friend, even if I don't think I'm his friend. It can be a bit weird, though, playing in front of someone without letting them see how I'm seeking approval from an empty spot in the room. Not that I mind, really. It's nice, to have someone that listens to what you play, someone who sees you.

Who knows, maybe one day I'll get him to play for me, like he did for Tartini. Maybe it'll be a happy one, this time.

#This is my first time don't judge too harshly #Or I'll come for you #Writing #The devil #Lucifer #Music #Story #I didn't mean to write this it just flowed

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wazzupmrstark · 3 years

Text

instead of you [part seventeen]

pairing: [best friend’s brother] tom holland x college!reader

summary: you didn’t expect to spend your summer pretending to be your best friend’s girlfriend- then again, you didn’t expect to fall for your best friend’s brother, either.

warnings: swearing, mentions of alcohol +sex

word count: 1.5k

series masterlist

The flight from Naples to Tokyo took fourteen hours, not including the two and a half hour layover in Istanbul, meaning you had sixteen and a half hours to sit in awkward tension-filled silence next to Sam. The tension was one-sided, of course, but it was still agonizing to endure.

You had been able to push your anxiety aside during your last day in Italy because it had been so busy. There had been a power outage in the middle of the night, causing everyone to oversleep and miss the ferry for one of your tours that morning. It had been a scramble to get back on schedule and do as much as possible with the time you had left. The boys had been hungover and their parents were tired of wrangling them. You had dozens of photos on your camera roll of Sam and Harry bickering when they were supposed to be posing for a nice picture, and even more of Tom flicking them off.

But now you were stuck alone with your thoughts, unable to use distraction as a means to escape. You tried reading your book, but found yourself unable to concentrate on the words on the page. After staring at the same paragraph for over fifteen minutes Sam noticed and asked if you were okay and you finally decided to call it quits.

You almost wished the Hollands hadn’t scheduled in a day and a half to adjust to the time zone change. You’d rather exhaust yourself with the nonstop tourist bullshit than have to cope with the reality that you had gotten off to thoughts about your best friend’s brother. Not to mention living with the secret that the same best friend’s brother had kissed you not long before that.

If Sam noticed anything was off, he didn’t mention it. He probably chalked it up to lack of sleep, or perhaps was too tired himself to care.

“Which one of us do you think will be randomly selected in customs today?” Harry asked, stretching his arms above his head.

You were standing in the aisle waiting to deplane, placing bets on who’d get searched by border agents this time. Somehow each time you traveled to a new place one of you was always chosen to get pat down or have your carry-on searched. Tom had yet to be the lucky winner, and you suspected it had something to do with his celebrity status.

“Y/n,” Tom answered easily. “She has the U.S. passport.”

You rolled your eyes. “Like England has a squeaky clean record with Japan.”

“At least we didn’t-”

“Bro, you can’t say the b word on a plane,” Harry interrupted.

“Even when the plane’s on the ground?”

Sam shrugged. “Better safe than sorry.”

“Whatever,” Tom continued. “It’s definitely going to be y/n.”

“Would you mind stepping out of line, ma’am?”

You sighed, not even bothering to look back at the boys. You already knew they were grinning like idiots and you didn’t want to give them the satisfaction. The agent ushered you to the side behind a glass partition, but not before you heard another agent repeat the same question to one of the Hollands. You smiled to yourself, happy not to be the only one singled out.

Behind the privacy screen another agent greeted you and asked you to take your sweatshirt off, explaining that it was too baggy and needed to be checked. You saw other people in baggy clothes who weren’t getting pulled out of line, but assumed they didn’t have the red flag of “U.S. Citizen” printed on their identification that would be cause for any additional suspicion. You complied with the agent’s request and pulled your sweatshirt off for them to further inspect.

You were glad you’d worn a sports bra underneath your sweatshirt because you usually didn’t wear anything underneath them. As soon as your head was out of the pullover you immediately met by Tom’s polite smile.

He averted his eyes as soon as he saw you, pausing his conversation with the official to mumble a quiet ‘sorry’ to you as he was shown to the spot next to yours.

You zoned out as they spoke, only aware of him again when he started unbuckling his belt. You caught his eye this time.

“Forgot to take it off,” he explained.

“Sweatshirt’s too loose.”

You both faced forward as the customs officials proceeded through the motions. You were stuck standing there half-naked with your arms wrapped around your chest self-consciously while an agent pat Tom’s legs down.

“Dad said we can meet them at baggage claim,” Tom said after a few moments of silence between the two of you. “They went on without us.”

“Okay,” you squeaked back in response.

You knew it wouldn’t take long, but it still made you nervous to be alone with Tom. Sam was like a safety blanket, or a buffer between you and him and without him you were afraid it would be painfully awkward.

The woman handed you your sweatshirt back and you had to wait for Tom outside of the screening area. He joined you a minute or so later.

“They find any dirt on you?” you asked from where you were leaning against the wall across from the exit.

“Nope, you?”

“Yeah, actually I’m in custody right now. Can’t believe you missed the handcuffs.”

“Man, what’d they get you for?”

“Identity theft,” you sighed.

“Damn, that’s a bummer,” Tom replied, false sympathy rolling off his words.

He cocked his head in the direction the rest of his family had went, indicating that you should get going, and held out a hand to pull you upright. You took it hesitantly and let him help you.

“I was actually hoping you could bail me out?” you went on, continuing with the bit.

Tom made a sound through his teeth and grimaced. “I’m kinda broke right now.”

“Aren’t you an actor?”

“Sorry, but I think you have me confused with someone else.”

“No, you’re definitely the guy!”

“You’re thinking of Tom Hiddleston,” he insisted.

“Remember that IOU you gave me? I’m cashing it in now.”

“That’s not how it works!”

You laughed. “No, but if I ever actually get arrested I’m using my IOU to get you to bail me out of jail.”

“I don’t think that a kiss and getting bailed out of prison are comparable, but I didn’t put any conditions on that postcard, did I?”

“Nope!” You smiled happily.

“Well that’s on me, so...”

You took the shuttle together to the other side of the airport where the rest of the Hollands were waiting and finally found them with all of your luggage at the furthest carousel from the entrance.

“It’s about time!” Harry yelled over the crowd as soon as he saw you.

Sam grinned when he saw you and you couldn’t help but grin back. He wrapped an arm around you instinctively and you relaxed into his shoulder, relieved to be with him again. It hadn’t dawned on you until that moment just how attached you were, but you didn’t have time to dwell on it because the other Hollands were all looking at you expectantly.

“Did everything go okay?” Nikki asked.

Tom nodded. “They made y/n strip, but it was uneventful otherwise.”

You pursed your lips, cheeks burning. “It was just my sweatshirt!” you hissed to Sam.

“Yeah, but you never wear anything under your sweatshirts!” Sam hissed back.

“I had a bra on this time.”

“Oh, so it was just another night at the bar for you?” You wrestled yourself out of Sam’s grasp at that and glared. “Am I wrong?”

Sam’s dad cut in before you could respond. He had a habit of calling “family meetings” in the middle of public spaces to finalize plans and get everybody on the same page, which was always an experience.

“Alright, gather up, gang!” he said, beckoning you all closer. “So we’ll be staying at... this hotel,” he explained and turned his phone around to show you the name of it. “And the thing is, we have two rooms to share between the six of us. One for your mother and I, and another for you four.”

“What?” Sam asked. “You’re going to make us stay with them?”

“I thought we were getting three rooms like every other time,” Tom chimed in.

“We were meant to, but I made a mistake when booking it,” Dom clarified.

“How?”

“The entire website was in Japanese, Sam. I don’t know Japanese!”

“Dad, Google has a translate webpage option!” Harry groaned.

“Well no one told me that while I was booking this entire trip by myself!”

You traded a look with Tom, who looked just as panicked as you felt. But it would only be for a week. You would find a way to manage. You didn’t really have any other option.

“I’m sure it’ll be fun,” Sam tried, forcing a smile.

“That’s the spirit!” Dom cheered. “We’ll make it work.”

sorry she’s short this week :( but lmk what you think i always appreciate feedback!!

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#instead of you #iou #tom holland series #tom holland x reader #tom holland x bi!reader #tom holland x you #tom holland x y/n

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luimagines · 3 years

Text

First Kiss! Part 3

Masterlist

Part 1 Part 2

Part three will include Four, Hyrule and Wind!

Content under the cut!

Four

The night was crisp and young as you walked with Four around the forest before Wild had to eventually send out the Wolf to come and find you two if you wanted to eat anything at all.

He walked a little ways ahead of you and grinned when he came across a little tree stump with a small crack down the middle. “I found one!”

“Found what?” You tilt your head. “When you said you were going to show me something, I didn’t think it would be this? Unless it’s still something I’m not seeing yet.”

“We’re not there yet!” Four bounces on the balls of his feet like an excited kid and gestures you to come next to him frantically.

You try to hide your laughter and go do what he’s asking of you.

He’s quick to grab your hand and he takes a breath.

You raise your eyebrow and copy him.

Four looks over to you, knowing that you’re messing with him before he grins and says, “Ready?”

“Ready for what?”

Four starts chanting a spell before you can even think to stop him and your whole vision shifts and everything grows and it’s warm and sweet and there, before you is suddenly a small hut with mouse people that you’ve never seen before. With feathered tails and little hats and ponchos with acorn cups and pots and you take a minute to take it all in.

Four laughs at your struck dumb expression and ushers you forward.

“What is this place?” You ask on a breath.

Four grabs your hand and gestures with his free to the space around you. “This is a safe haven for the Minish or the Picori as they’ve been known to call themselves.”

“Wow...” You feel a bright smile on your face as you head deeper into the little village inside the tree stump.

But alas, it’s only a few seconds before Link is swarmed by the mouse peop- the Minish as they asll seem to recognize him.

“Hello Mr. Hero!”

“You’re back Link!”

“How have you been?”

“Come sit with us! Have a drink!”

“Link, it’s been awhile. Do you have any new stories to tell us?” A group of the mice- minish- you have to remind yourself again- walk up to Link and one dares to loop their around his, leaning her head on his shoulder as she says this.

Four grins and pulls himself away much to your relief. “You know it! But not right now.” Four says your name, introducing you to the people who must be his friend before saying he was going to show you around.

One minish girl pouts and goes to reach for his arm again. “But Mr. Hero~!”

“Later.” Four smiles in your direction and takes your hand for everyone to see, lacing your fingers together.

You smile a little more easily and gladly follow him through the town.

And it’s really quite lovely.

But... You would enjoy yourself more if Four didn’t have one of them come up to flirt with him every ten minutes.

You can see him begin to get uncomfortable and he’s already apologized more than once about not being able to give you his full attention and show you around like he wanted. Your heart breaks for him.

One girl though, really pushes your buttons.

It’s the same one from earlier- the one that didn’t hesitate to latch onto his arm. “Link! You’ve been here long enough already! Tell us your stories!”

“Sorry but he’s with me today.” You growled and pulled him away from her.

He lets you.

You glare at the girl who doesn’t seem all that impressed by your attitude and claim. She scoffs a little and crosses her arms. “And you are you supposed to be?”

“His lover.”

Four coughs a little next to you but doesn’t deny anything.

The picori around you all still as if you popped a balloon in a silent room. All activity stops and there’s a nervous air around everyone as they all turn their heads to look at you, Four and the small group of minish girls that backup the original.

The original blinks for a minute before smirking a little. “No you’re not.”

You feel like you’ve been slapped.

You take a step back before a calm washes over you.

She doesn’t believe you?

That’s fine.

You shrug and turn to Four who’s watching everything with intense interest.

You don’t hesitate to pick him up and pin to the wall beside you, kissing him like it’s the last thing you’ll ever do. Like you’ve been dying of thirst and he’s the glass of water you’ve been waiting for. Like you’re about to get heat stroke and he’s the shade to protect you.

Four kisses you back with a smile on his lips.

Four wraps his legs around your waist and buries his hands into your hair, bringing you closer to him.

He tastes like apples and you vaguely remember the apple pie Four had managed to snag for breakfast earlier. There’s the hint of cinnamon and sweet sugar topping.

“I think they’re together.” Someone says in the background but you’re not paying attention to them any more.

You pull away from Four and rest your forehead against his. “Hey there Lover Boy, sorry about the lack of warning.”

“I am not complaining. That was hot.” He smirks and pulls you back in for another kiss.

Those who were interested in Four back away somewhat and everyone returns, with great difficulty on their part, back to what they were doing before.

Minish are terrible gossips.

But you think you can accept that the news is going to be that Four is with you now.

All those fangirls can back off, he’s yours.

Hyrule

You were in trouble for real this time.

You don’t know what it’s going to take but you think it might just be the end of the road for you.

You’re out of potions, you have no fairies, you can’t move your dominant arm and you’re ninety eight percent sure that you’re leg is broken.

To make matters worse, there’s a whole bunch of monsters nearby that you think you’re going to be unable to avoid when they find you.

Eventually.

You take a breath and try to calm down.

There’s no amount of adrenaline in the world that can help out of this one.

And you know you’re not getting any backup either.

This is it.

You can at least leave this plane of existence with a good conscious and a clear head. You can go down with dignity and you can at least you didn’t go down easy.

You just know that the next fight will be your last.

You try to sit up, ignoring how everything in your body seems to hurt, all for different reasons.

It beginning to hurt more now that the adrenaline is leaving your system and you’re getting tired.

A nap wouldn’t hurt.

Maybe the monsters will find you in your sleep and end you then. they say that’s the best to go. In your sleep.

Or (and you know this is unlikely) they’ll think you’re already dead and just leave you alone. Then you can wake up and try to go find help after you’ve rested a little while.

It’ll be tough, but it’s possible.

Who’re you kidding?

You’re going to die.

You’re never going to see your family again.

You’re never going to tell your friends how much you appreciate them.

You’re never going to be able to tell that Traveler that you’ve fallen uselessly in love with him.

You’re never going to see the sun again and sing and laugh and see a future family for you....

You don’t want to die.

A single tear runs down your face and you lean back against a stone wall. the corner you were in is secluded enough but not at all hidden.

You can hear the monsters come closer- they’re fighting something. The chaos is loud and thundering in the otherwise empty and quiet cave. They’re coming in your direction and you start counting the seconds.

They get closer and you see the fringes of one huge moblin take a step back to be in front of you. He’s not facing you- too busy fighting something on the other side but you’re out in the open.

You’re tired.

You take another breath and close your eyes. You hear the moblin go down and die but from what, you don’t know. You can’t even open your eyes anymore, that was how tired you were.

But then there’s a scream.

A familiar scream.

Link.

No, Hyrule. It’s Hyrule. It’s your Traveler.

He sounds horrified, pained and it’s enough to try to get you to move again.

You need to see what caused it, you need to see if he’s ok, you need to see what made him scream like that.

But you can’t.

The most you can do it flop an arm and move your head to the side.

Something lands on your side, you can feel it and if you can’t move you can speak. “Mmm...”

Ok, you guess not.

“Oh my god...” Hyrule voice breaks. He sounds like he’s crying.

Please don’t cry, you think. I’m not worth your tears. Save them for someone who matters.

“No...” He gulps and you can feel him move your head, being as gentle as he can with you. You take the biggest breath you can and try to move your head to the other side.

“You can’t die here.” He says. “I won’t let you.”

You can feel the spell he’s used so often on your friend’s fingertips, flow through you and it lessens the pain somewhat, but you know you’re too far gone. You’re too weak. You want to try to stop him from using all his magic but you can’t but at least you can die happy, knowing that he cared about you. It may not be as deep as you would have liked to take your relationship with him, but this is enough. More than enough even.

You feel him turn your head more and begin to lose consciousness.

This is ok.

You think you can go now.

Hyrule kisses you.

It’s desperate.

It’s longing- painful.

Magic flows through your whole body at an alarming rate and you think you can see a golden glow behind your eye lids that forces you to keep your eyes shut tight from the brightness of it all.

But you can move again.

You bring a hand up to your face, feeling Hyrule’s more clearly and let it rest on his jaw.

Slowly, you kiss back- half sure that this is a dream your dying brain has cooked up to make the process easier for yourself.

It’s not sweet, it’s not gentle anymore and the magic wakes you up again enough where you can feel how tight Hyrule is holding onto you.

You push him away with what little strength you managed to get back and blinked your eyes open.

The golden light fades and there’s sits in front of you, your Traveler.

He’s crying.

You blink and begin to feel more of your body again, confusion drowning you in its wake. “Link?”

Your voice is rough and you feel like you need to cough but Hyrule cuts you off and hugs you close.

“You can’t die.” He says, gulping down the sob that threatens to break through. “I won’t let you... I promise. You’re going to be ok if it’s the last thing I do.”

Wind

“Wind!” You whisper yell and frantically wave your hand to convince to come over to you.

The boy in question grins and looks around momentarily before jogging over to where you were hidden in the bushes. “What is it?”

“Come with me.” You beam and take his hand, wasting no time in dragging him behind you. “There’s something I want to show you but only you. Wild might destroy it and I’ll never be able to get him to leave.”

“Leave where?” Wind asks in his normal volume.

You spin around and place your finger to his lips before glancing for the others again. When nothing appears to have heard the little outburst you pull away and lace your fingers together. “You’ll see!”

Wind doesn’t know what you’re talking about but the secrecy is fun for him, so he’ll place along.

You take him off the trail and take two lefts, a right then a left and Wind considers you two to be lost the second you make the last turn.

He takes a breath and looks around, each tree looking more imposing than the last but he would have no idea where to start if he were to try and go back. “I think we’re lost.”

“No way!” You snort. “This is my home. We’re almost there.”

“Your home?” Wind stands straighter.

You nod and pull away from him.

Wind goes to reach for your hand again.

You don’t notice.

You instead skip over to one of the trees and knock on it three times with your ear pressed up against the truck. You wait two seconds before nodding and take three large steps to the tree on the right and hit it with a branch Wind didn’t see next to it.

The tree shakes and a rope falls down.

You seem encouraged by this and take the rope, pulling on it with all your might which then drops a small ladder, that Wind sees is held together by ropes and connected to something at the top of the tree.

You don’t hesitate to start climbing , getting half way up before looking down and gesturing Wind to follow you.

Wind grins maniacally and follows you up the ladder faster than you would have thought he’d be capable of climbing.

You get to the top which is blocked off by a bunch of wood, but you know this place and you lift the trap door with ease and climb inside.

You get on your knees and turn around reaching your hand out to help Wind into the tree house.

He climbs in slower than you, glancing around with wide eyes, taking in everything.

There’s a small unmade bed in the corner with two stuffed animals from what he can. One is a dog and another is a bird but he doesn’t know what kind.

There’s a small bookshelf under a window that’s propped open with a small wooden board. There’s not a lot of books there, maybe seven at most but that’s more books than Wind is accustomed to seeing in one place and the rest of the space is filled is nick nacks and trinket that Wind assumes are from your adventure. And small chest next to it that must be where your clothes are if the cloth hanging out is any indication.

There’s also a small- (toy sized) wood stove with matching metal pots and pans and a small sink on the other side of the tree house. Out of curiosity, he walks over and turns on the faucet.

It has running water.

“This is my home.” You whisper when Wind comes to stand up. “It’s little... and a little broken, if I’m being honest. I don’t have the tools to fix it but it’s mine.”

“Broken?” Wind blinks and looks around even more. There’s some rotting wood by the bed, now that he sees it and it doesn’t look like it’ll be able to hold much more weight if it continues without being replaced. It’s holding up the ceiling above your head- Wind instantly feels concerned for your safety should it collapse while you’re there, or what you’d do if it happened while you weren’t there. He’s almost sure now that there’s more that he just can’t see right now, if that was glaringly obvious off the get go.

“Some parts need fixing and replacing.” You admit. “But I didn’t build this place, I just found it and moved in, so I don’t know where I would even start. It’s not safe on the ground at night so I’m better off up here. There’s also some pipes on the roof are beginning to rust and get nasty. It collects the water from the tree leaves when it rains and keeps it in a container buried in the ground, that’s how I have running water. But it’s cracking.”

You sigh and sit on the floor, crossing your legs under you. “I’ll figure it out. Worse case scenario I’d have to leave and find a cave or something to live in but-”

“We can help you!” Wind turns to you and falls to knees in front of you. “Wild’s good at collecting materials. Twilight and Time can help build. Warrior can plan it out. Legend and Four can help with the pipes. You don’t have to lose your home.”

“The others might make fun of me for having this place.” You mutter with a small pout on your face. “But I knew you wouldn’t! That’s why I brought you up here! I may have nothing, but it’s a lot of nothing so I have enough to share.”

Wind leans into your space suddenly and places his lips on yours.

You gasp and touch them with the tips of your fingers, staring at him wide eyed and shocked.

It was just a peck, a butterflies touch, but the look on Wind’s face says something else. It’s heavy with emotion, with concern and care, and there’s a little part of you that finds it more attractive than you thought it would be.

“You won’t lose your home and I won’t let them make fun of you, I promise.” He gulps and bite his lip. “Let us help. Please.”

You blink at him and let the furious blush encompass your face entirely. You shrink a little bit away but smile. “Ok.”

Wind takes a breath and releases it a nervous but joyful laugh. “We’ll go get the others, ok? And we’ll make sure that you’re ok and safe and this whole place will be as good as new.”

You nod with a smile and Wind looks overjoyed that you agreed.

You hum and shift your weight onto your knees as well, leaning into Wind’s space, steadying yourself with a hand on his shoulder and place a delicate kiss on his lips as well. “Thank you Link.”

Wind also blushes something fierce and he begins to play with his hands in front of him, giggling and bashful. “Oh- Um- Well- I- Uh...You- You’re welcome.”

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader

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azaleavi · 3 years

Text

Stranger with a knife - Y.B.

Summary: A stranger disturbs you in the middle of the night. Turns out that stranger might have a thing for knives.

Word count: 2.2k

Warnings: use of knives, blood, alcohol mention, stab wound, mention of knife kink, very brief hint on use of poison

Author’s note: My first ever Yelena fic!! I’m super nervous to post it so please give me feedback! I’ve never written for a female character before but i hope you guys like it!

Feedback is always appreciated and don’t forget to reblog and like if you enjoyed it and want to see more. Thank you!

Masterlist

It's in the middle of the night when you hear noise coming from outside your front door. It must be the neighbor you think and turn to your other side, away from the door to your room. You look at the digital clock and the bright red numbers tell you that it's just a little past 4 am. You are used to the people living next to you making noise. They always go out partying and they come back around this time so you don't make a fuss about it.

The noise of a few cars passing by on the street flow through the open window with the movement of the curtain caused by the light breeze. It does nothing for the heat that settled inside the four walls, the summer sun not letting go of you even during the night when it's sleeping.

You hear the noise again, like a person grunting just outside your little living space. It must have been some party you smile to yourself, a little jealousy seeping into the curve of your lips. You wanted to go out and party sometimes. Of course, you do, but that kind of time is not something you have.

The noise comes again, not moving an inch away from you and you realize that it's a female voice. You sit up in bed, worried for the mystery woman. She might be in trouble and you could not sleep knowing she might need your help.

Your feet touch the ground beside your bed just as the front door opens. The creaking of the old door echoes through the quiet space as you freeze in your spot, hands on the edge of the mattress ready to push you up to stand. Didn't you lock the door?

You are thankful that your eyes are used to the dark as you stand on shaky legs, trying to be as quiet as possible. Slowly walking to the door you grab the wood to open it just enough to look through the crack. An outline of a smaller figure catches your eyes as she stumbles in and closes the door behind her. At least she has some manners.

She stumbles onto your couch, her hands clutching her side. Landing on the soft cushions with a groan, she turns on her back.

You open the door a little more but stop your movements as it creaks. Damn old doors. She looks up from her stomach that she is still holding and your mouth opens in shock as she locks eyes with you. She has beautiful eyes.

"What-" she starts speaking, but her words fell short as she loses consciousness and falls back onto the couch. In a panic, you walk out the door and turn on the light. The woman has a big red patch on the side of her shirt and you can see her flesh under it as the fabric is cut open.

You pull the shirt away from her wound to check it out and you realize that it's not as bad as it looks. You are not a doctor, but you can tell that she doesn't need stitches. Pushing her shirt up just enough, you go and get some water, a towel, and some bandages. She needs your help no matter how she broke into your house. You clean all the blood away and wrap her in the bandages to the best of your abilities. When you are satisfied with your work you sit down on a chair facing the couch. You know you couldn't sleep with a stranger in your apartment so you decide on watching her. Your tired body has other plans though and you slip into sleep 15 minutes after.

The morning sun shines onto your closed eyelids making you stir in your sleep. Realizing what happened you jolt awake, almost falling off the uncomfortable chair you have been sitting on for the past few hours. the woman is still in the same place, passed out. A sigh leaves your lips in relief. You don't know what she would have done to you if she woke up before you.

Your stomach grumbles into the quiet morning air, signaling that the small dinner you had was not enough. After one last check on the woman, you walk into the kitchen to prepare something for you, making a little more than you usually would in case your guest wakes up hungry too.

As you busy yourself with breakfast, you don't notice the woman wake up and look around the unfamiliar place. Felling something around her torso she looks down and sees a bandage neatly wrapped around the wound she sustained last night. Her eyes land on your frame standing by the stove and her training kicks in. Standing up she quietly walks over to the kitchen counter that has knives on it and grabs one.

You feel a presence behind you, but before you can turn around you feel the coldness of the metal pressed to your neck. Your hands stop moving as you gasp. Her other hand goes around your waist and you can't help but grab onto it in panic.

"Who are you?" her accent is thick as it rumbles inside your ear.

"I think I should be the one asking that" your accent is just as prominent yet slightly different and she is taken back for a second. Who are you to talk back to her like this when you have a knife to your neck?

"I asked first" the childish claim is the only thing that comes out of her mouth, her brain unable to think of anything else. You tilt your head slightly as if saying fair.

"I'm the owner of the house you stumbled into in the middle of the night" you don't know where this confidence comes from, but you like it "Your turn" you look at the tiles on the wall ahead of you, trying to make her out in the reflection but it's no use. It's way too blurred to make out any features, but you can feel that she is around the same height as you.

"I'm the person who stumbled into your house" you can basically hear the smirk in her voice and you hold back a groan.

"I'll need a little more than that" you talk back to her and she is surprised once again.

"Well too bad" she lets go of you and you immediately turn around to come face to face with the most attractive woman you have ever seen. You look into her eyes and now it's your turn to be speechless.

"I was right" you mumble as a small smile plays on your lips.

"About what?" she furrows her eyebrows in confusion.

"Your eyes are really pretty" her whole body freezes at the compliment that leaves your mouth. She stares at you for a few seconds then clears her throat and turns away from you.

"So what happened?" she sits down on one of the chairs, keeping the knife close to her hand. Just in case.

"I told you. You walked into my house and bled on my couch" you shrug as you turn off the stove. Taking out two plates you scrape the food into each. She watches as you place one plate in front of her before sitting down on the chair across the table.

"How do I know you didn't put anything in this?" she looks down at it and she has to admit, it smells delicious.

"You'll have to find out" you tease her but immediately regret it as the knife is back under your chin, pressing against your skin almost breaking it.

"I'm starting to think you have a knife kink" your eyes don't leave the blade as you continue to tease her. She scoffs at your comment and pushes the knife harder against you "Okay, okay I'm just kidding" you try to de-escalate the situation as you hold your hands up in surrender. She takes mercy on you and pulls away the knife from your throat. A sigh escapes you as she leans back into her chair, making her smirk under her nose.

"Do you want me to eat from your food too?" you raise your eyebrows but she waves you off.

"I'm not hungry anyway. Do you have some vodka?" she tilts her head that you find oddly adorable.

"Vodka?" you ask back in surprise. Why would she want alcohol early in the morning?

"Yes" she nods like there is nothing wrong with what she is asking for.

"Sure" you shrug, acting nonchalant. If she wants to drink so early then she has another thing coming. You walk to the fridge and pull out a bottle. Trying to shield it from her view, you pour it into a shot glass and turn around to face her. She is sitting there impatiently as you hand the glass to her and she drowns it without thinking. You can see on her face that she was expecting the familiar sting of alcohol. Instead, she got a big shot of water from you. You can barely hide your smile as you see her face drop. She turns to you and you hide your mouth behind your hand.

"Do you think you are funny?" her voice is low as she stands up and you take a step back.

"A little, yes" you scrunch up your nose while nodding. She feels her anger dissipate at the action, but she steels herself.

"Okay then funny girl why don't you tell me your name?" she takes another step closer to you, but you mirror her movement backward.

"You first" your eyes don't leave hers as you play this cat and mouse game.

"I could kill you in a second" she threatens you, but for some reason, you don't budge. Everything you do baffles her and she needs to figure you out.

"If you wanted to kill me you would have done it already" you tilt your head to the side with a small smile. She stops in her tracks as her heart almost skips a beat at the action. Almost. The expression on her face makes you furrow your eyebrows "What?" the question shakes her out of her stupor and she raises her knife once again. She needs to leave right now before she does anything she will regret.

"If you tell anyone that I was here" she steps closer and this time you don't move back "you will die a painful death" you suck in a sharp breath at her words.

"Wait, you are leaving?" there is a slight sadness in your voice that she notices, but chooses to ignore. You don't even know why you want her to stay. She is a stranger that got stabbed and broke into your apartment in the middle of the night. You shouldn't want her to stay.

"I already stayed longer than I should have" she explains as she puts down the knife on the table and walks towards the front door.

It's already open by the time you reach her and you grab her elbow in a hurry. Her hand wraps around your wrist so tightly that it hurts and you hiss as you pull away from her. She mumbles a sorry under her breath as she fully turns back to you.

"I need to-"

"At least tell me your name" you interrupt whatever she wanted to say. Your eyes are wide as you look at her, your voice having a hint of desperation. Her heart beats just a little harder as you stare at her with so much hope in your eyes. A sigh parts her lips as she brings her hand to your cheek. Her palm presses against the soft flesh on your face and you can't help but lean into her touch. You don't know her, but you feel more comfortable around her than you had with anyone in your life.

"Yelena" you didn't even notice that you closed your eyes until it snaps open. Her name. Yelena.

"Yelena" you whisper is like an echo of an empty staircase of her voice and she concludes she likes it. You stare at each other for a few quiet seconds, her hand still on your cheek.

"Don't move away from this place" she lets go of you and leaves you perplexed by her words.

"What?" you ask back. You must have heard her wrong.

She doesn't answer you. Instead, she walks away from you and only throws you a smile over her shoulder. You stand there as she walks down the stairs and disappears from your sight.

Your mind is a mess as you close the door and press your back against it. You don't know anything about her other than her name, but you know one thing. You won't move away from this apartment until a specific blonde woman shows up at your door again. Maybe this time not bleeding.

#yelena belova #yelena belova x female reader #yelena belova x reader #yelena belova drabble #yelena belova one shot #yelena belova fanfiction #yelena belova fic #yelena belova fluff #black widow

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styx1an · 3 years

Text

A Chat about Chat

A short fic about how Chat came to be a singular being, written by yours truly. By all means, this isn’t canon, it’s just my interpretation of things.

Word count: 1,863

Fandom: RTGame, Miitopia (NGL I’m a little displeased with how I wrote the ending, but oh well!)

You know, there is this odd sense of irony in knowing how terrified Chat was of Magical John when they aren’t even human nor a singular being in the first place. Wait, so you didn’t know? Of how they became such a being in the first place? (They chuckle.) Then I suppose that means I’ll have to tell you their story. Well then, shall we begin the tale of Chat? (You see the twinkle in their eyes. They must’ve been waiting a while to be able to do this.)

> You nod. You’ve been waiting a while to understand Chat’s origins. Tonight, like many others, belongs to the storyteller.

> You shake your head. No thanks, you think you’re too tired. Dawn shall rise anew soon, and you will not waste your time with tall tales.

(They nod, pleased with your decision.) Then I shall begin to relay their tale.

Our tale begins in the vast lands known as Twitch, a domain that belongs to another, a far crueler being whose tale is for another time. It is a place where one is free to express their opinions and whatnot (as long as it suits the many whims of its Amazonian overlords, of course), and many are versed in the easy to learn, but difficult to master art of gaming. Many such masters have gained a large following, and even if they do not possess such skill, more often than not their humor and charisma paves the way to fame.

One example of the latter would be RTGame, a man of sizable repute. Aside from the frankly ridiculous story of the origin of his moniker, he is also known for doing some… questionable things for the sake of entertainment. There are still tales of his quest in the bathtub along with Gilbert (yes, the very same Gilbert on the quest to defeat The Darker Lord Khadgar!), the night of the Painted Wall’s Communion, the birth of Mr. Compost- But my dear, we are here for one of his lesser-known exploits, one that would change the world as we know it.

> You lean closer to the campfire, watching the storyteller with a renewed interest. Where does the tale lead? Where does it end? You need to know.

> It’s getting even later. You think some rest will be needed before tomorrow’s travels begin. Perhaps the rest of the story can wait another time?

It was a dark and stormy night. The then-Dark Lord Von Karma had just been unleashed upon the land, and I Want Die set along the path of salvation with his fellow party members, Mr. Bean the Warrior, Goofy the Thief, and Mint the Horse. He was pleased with the ease with which they vanquished monsters and saved (literal) faces, but the lack of actual conversation within the party had begun to get to him. Mr. Bean had nothing to offer other than a simple “Bean!” every now and then, and Goofy terrified him with all the “hyuck!” and talks of absolving the world’s many sins. Mint is a horse and therefore cannot participate in a verbal conversation unless you happen to understand what her neighs meant. She also happens to be the most normal member of the party, strangely enough.

Either way, I Want Die longed for a proper conversation.

And God took notice.

It was inevitable. The fourth party member was always going to join, whether he wanted one or not. It shouldn’t be notable in any way whatsoever, yet here I am regaling this tale to you.

It is not how Chat had come to join the party that I wanted to explain, but rather how they came to be.

Do you remember the man I had called RTGame? I hope you had not thought of him as irrelevant to our tale, as he is the patron saint of I Want Die’s adventures. Surely you know of the vast armory that belongs to the party? The various delicacies fed to the team? All his work. Along with his followers’ contributions, of course.

Chat was what he called his followers, the ones who watched his various endeavors as he traveled across the land of Twitch. Oftentimes the crowd would conversate with him (hence their name), offering jokes and sardonic commentary whenever he did anything remotely comedic. Other times, RT would have to tell them off for being such a rowdy bunch- the usual group of thousands could never keep quiet for long.

It happened that Chat witnessed I Want Die’s pilgrimage along with RTGame. They all looked upon him with a jolly sense of humor (after all, their master is well-versed in the art of comedy), some wondering where his travels will bring him. The others who knew how it would all end kept silent at the behest of RTGame. Either way, every single one of them was enjoying the show he had put on for them.

And came the time to summon the fourth member.

As per usual, RTGame withdrew into his workshop, closing the curtains around him so no curious onlooker could see inside. But that did not stop Chat from yelling their predictions and demands.

“EDGEWORTH” one cried.

Another begged for a certain “End Mii!”

“CHAT CALM DOWN!”

“!uptime”

“69420toesucker just subscribed for 5 months!”

“TURG”

RTGame smiled at them. He wasn’t surprised at all at their reactions, rather it was something he had hoped would happen.

“Alright then Chat,” he said, “here they are!”

His pale, thin hands reached out to open the curtains-

And unveiled a faceless, empty husk of a being.

Under any other circumstances, Chat would’ve rioted, demanded justice against the irony of sending a faceless doll to retrieve the faces of others. But they had no time.

Almost in an instant, the skies darkened. Clouds swirled up above with vibrant shades of violet, cobalt, magenta. Bright blue lightning strikes a tree and dissolves it into dust. Somewhere distant, something roars. The air feels thick- something magical, something electric is positively buzzing. Magic truly is in the air.

And thunder strikes once again.

The crowd is gone.

Silence fell. All that is left is the master and the doll, no longer an empty husk.

> You look up to the storyteller, their eyes reflecting the blazing flames. You have a feeling that you know how this ends, but you’d rather have them confirm it first.

> You’re sleepy. As tempting as it is to continue listening to their story, you must admit that the very idea of slumber is even more tantalizing.

RTGame had managed to do exactly what he wanted. Chat’s consciousness, placed inside of a single, physical being. A puppet controlled by a hivemind would not be very easy to control, yes. But the idea intrigued him. And wouldn’t it be better than having a large gaggle of people constantly behind him, watching his every move? It could help I Want Die on his journey too.

So it is settled. It happened that one of the members of his temple had just crafted a rather nice puppet, in case RT needed one. And he did come to use it. It does look a little plain, as both body and head are painted in the same shade of bright white. However, the face was not white like how it was in the beginning, but a disturbingly pitch-black space. No, that’s not the right word.

Rather, it was like a void had formed. That’s also not the right phrase to describe it either, as there were drops of ichor dripping down onto the ground, dissolving the once green grass. But I digress.

Chat broke the silence that had fallen between them, wailing as a cacophony of noises and emotions spilled out. Despite what RT had done to them, they were still determined to voice their opinions. Quite in character, really.

“RT WHAT”

“NO NO NO”

“!uptime”

“I'M ON TV!!!”

“bazingabanana just gifted 5 subs!”

“that’s kinda meta”

As their voices grew louder, ichor kept pouring out of the void. As expected, RT thought to himself. He still needs to act fast. So with a quick snap, he fastened a wooden mask the temple-goer made; the same shade of white, a pair of beady black eyes almost as dark and soulless as the void, bright purple ears.

The yelling and complaining didn’t stop of course. Still, as their voices were muffled by the mask, it was an arguably better experience than the previous ear-splitting wails. And it was less deadly too. Ichor had stopped dripping down onto the grass, which meant that the constant sizzling would finally stop.

Now, one last thing.

RT stared into Chat’s eyes.

This in itself wouldn’t have been quite a remarkable action had it been anyone else, but it’s Chat that we are talking about. The very sensation of doing something as simple as gazing into a hivemind’s many souls wasn’t anything ordinary, either.

It felt like you had just plunged one of your hands into ice-cold water in the middle of winter and not only are you freezing, you’re scared and you don’t know whether you’d come out in one piece.

They all stared back. Thousands and thousands looked upon RT, all different yet whispering the same things, each claiming to be an individual yet virtually nothing distinctive belongs to them. A true hivemind. It’s exactly what he wanted, but he wondered if perhaps other troubles would arise.

He let himself go from their gazes. It asks too much of him.

“Alright then, Chat. Ready?”

A gaggle of voices reply, sounding their agreements.

“OK then!”

I Want Die finally opened the inn door, after convincing himself that he’d like this new friend. That this one would be neither an anime villain, a comedy star or a horse. Someone with actual rational thoughts and words to speak.

In front of the door stood a short figure, clad in a purple mage’s robes. Their pitch-black eyes looked at I Want Die, and a chorus of voices came from their permanent smile:

“Hi, I’m Chat!”

And I Want Die wondered if he had forgotten to cross off ‘hivemind’ off his list of potential party members.

Chat’s introduction ends here, of course. But not their tale. The journey was far from over in fact. The party had yet to meet the Royal Court, witnessed the court’s love affair, or get kidnapped by the Dark Lord Von Karma. Even the party wasn’t complete, as it was only the first party I Want Die would encounter in his tale of redemption.

And it’s not the only story either. You haven’t heard of Magical John’s past life, or how Cupcake isn’t as pure as she seems. Gilbert’s fear of the kitchen. How Jefferson came to be, and Obama’s past life with Mr. Bean.

But I’m afraid I must stop here, for it is late already, is it not? Our journey must continue tomorrow. Let us rest. Goodnight, may the stars shine for you. (They head off into their tent, leaving you alone with the flickering embers of a dying fire.)

> You bid the storyteller goodnight. Perhaps they’ll tell you another one of their stories, underneath the moonlight once more.

#rtgame #magical john #well i wrote! dont like how the latter half was written but ok #miitopia #writing #rtgamecrowd

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arvinsescape · 3 years

Text

I hope you’re waiting for me.

A/N: I hope you all enjoy, this is a sad one but I hope you all enjoy 💕

Summary: Mob!Tom doesn’t know what he’d do without you and unfortunately he has to find a way to live without you.

Warnings: Death, swearing, just pure heartbreak.

W/C: 2.1K

The event was beautiful, much different to the events you’d attended before, Tom had his arm around your waist as he kissed at your cheek. He was so smitten with you, the wedding ring he’d gotten you was shining in under the fluorescent lights, everyone had commented on how beautiful it was. He loved you with everything he had, you’d been married just short of a month, and this was the first event you’d attended.

You became used to the looks of jealousy thrown your way by this point. Most women wondered how you had done it, how had you gotten the Mob boss so wrapped around your finger that he proposed. Women had tried so hard to gain his attention, but none ever succeeded, he wasn’t interested and by now they’d all gotten the message, he looked at you like you were the only important person in the room.

“I wanna take you into that bathroom and fuck you right now.” Tom groaned into your ear, the white knee length dress you had on was driving him wild. He’d already had it around your waist once today, your legs still slightly shaky from the encounter and you doubted it wouldn’t be the last.

“Calm down.” You hummed as he trailed his hand down your back and squeezed your behind.

“You look so good though.” Tom smiled as he kissed your cheek.

“Mr and Mrs Holland.” You heard a voice say and your stomach dropped. This was one man you hated, he was your typical mob leader, greasy, sexist, everything you hated in a man. “How was the honeymoon, I expect we’ll be expecting a young Holland to join the mix now.” He said and your hand instinctively fell to your stomach. You weren’t pregnant but you were trying.

“It was lovely, thank you.” Tom said, he knew how to keep the peace where you didn’t know what to say.

“Brilliant, well I hope to see you soon.” He said as he walked away, you instantly relaxed.

“I hate him.” You whispered into Tom’s ear, getting on your tiptoes to rest your head on his shoulder as Tom laughed.

“You hate most people in this room.” He teased back. “Makes me wonder how I ever got you to fall in love with me.”

“You have your advantages.” You teased him.

You both watched as a man approached, you didn’t recognize him, and Tom didn’t seem to either.

“To the happy couple.” He said with a smile that set you on edge, you instinctively moved further into Tom’s side. He raised his glass at the two of you and you heard a gun shot resonate through the room, everyone stopped what they were doing. A scream rang out through the room, and you felt as people started to move towards the exit as people burst through the doors around you.

You felt out of place, a pain in your stomach spreading like wildfire. Your hand clutched at it and as you lifted it you saw the blood coating it. It was surreal, how you hadn’t noticed the pain until this point, you hadn’t felt the pain until it ripped through you all of a sudden.

“Tom?” You said weakly but he didn’t hear you as he moved you out of the way, grasping your hand that wasn’t covered in blood and rushing you both through a door and into a corridor.

“Tom, boss- “Harrison joined the two of you and stopped in his tracks. “Y/N/N?” He said quietly as he took in your appearance, Tom turning his attention to his wife, and he felt his heart stop. Your face was pale, blood seeping through your wound. That shot was meant for you and it turned his blood cold, how had he missed it.

“Baby?” Tom said slowly as you looked at him, fear evident in your eyes. Another gunshot rang through the corridor, and you didn’t even have the energy to react, you understood now, you were the target.

“Tom, we need to move.” Harrison spoke as he fired a shot off that hit the guy straight in the head.

Tom picked you up bridal style as you clutched onto your wound, the amount of blood leaving your system made your head feel dizzy as Tom and Harrison moved themselves quickly through the corridors, they were saying things to each other, but you didn’t catch any of it. Harrison had to take charge of this one, Tom wasn’t focused, he was too wrapped up in what was happening to you.

You didn’t look good, and Harrison’s stomach dropped, he knew there was a small chance you’d survive this, the possibility of you seeing tomorrow was not likely. Tom looked lost, mindlessly following his friend through the corridors. Harrison killed god knows how many people, relief flooding his system as he saw the car.

“Baby?” Tom coaxed you back into consciousness. “Hey, I need you to stay with me okay?” He said. “I’m going to get you to a doctor.” He spoke as he removed his jacket. Somehow you’d ended up in the back of his van, you were led across the seats, Tom awkwardly in the footwell. “Princess, you’re going to make it through this okay?” He said as he pressed the jacket to your wound. Your blood covering everything in its path.

“Tom,” you said, and it was so weak that Tom’s heart stopped. He clung onto the tiny amount of hop that his wife was going to be okay. He couldn’t think about losing you, not now, not ever.

“Baby, shh,” he said as he used his free hand to smooth your hair. “Don’t talk, just focus on me and stay with me.” He said, tears streaming down his face, no one had ever seen the man cry, and no one dare comment on it, the people in the car turning their attention elsewhere.

“Tom, I love you.” You said, you knew the wound was fatal now. You knew that this was how you were going to die, you felt so weak that you didn’t really care. You found comfort in having Tom here, he was with you, it’d be okay. “It’s okay.” You whispered as you felt your eyes drift closed.

“Y/N/N, no, no, come on princess, just stay awake, please for me.” He spoke, voice cracking.

“I’m tired.” You mumbled. “I love you.” You said again, you felt like your life was slipping from you, felt your heart beat slow.

“I love you so much princess, so so much.” He said as he put his forehead to yours. “I need you to hold on, we’re almost there and then the doctors going to fix you and we’ll be okay. You can’t die, not you Y/N/N. I can’t lose you.” Tom spoke but it fell on deaf ears, you’d gone.

Tom’s face completely paled as he sat there in shock, your chest no longer rising and falling. He panicked as he shook you.

“No, no, no. Y/N/N, wake up. Come on baby, wake up for me.” He said both hands falling above your chest as he attempted to bring you back.

Harrison couldn’t stop the tears as he pulled up outside the hospital. He hadn’t made it in time, you were gone, that sliver of hope crushed. He wanted to apologise to his friend, wanted to tell him how sorry he was.

“Tom, stop.” Haz said as he grabbed Tom from his awkward position and pulled him out of the car. “Tom, she’s gone.” Haz cried as Tom tried to rip himself from his grasp and get back to you. “Tom!” Harrison shouted, gaining the males attention, he watched as Tom collapsed onto the ground.

“It’s all my fault.” He whispered and Harrison’s heart broke.

“No Tom, it’s not.” Harrison motioned for one of the other men to get someone’s attention, your body needed removing from the back of the vehicle. Haz was glad they had it in with the chief of police, knowing that nothing would come of this. “It’s not your fault.”

“It fucking is. If I wasn’t who I am and I didn’t pursue her, she’d be alive.”

“She loved you Tom. Do you honestly think she didn’t know this would be a possibility? Tom she took the risk because she loved you.”

“And she was killed because of me!”

The funeral was hard, Tom had attended but as soon as it was over he’d left. Harrison had taken over the mob for now, Tom was unfit. Harrison found out who it was that had ordered the murder and kept it to himself, he couldn’t watch Tom fall further into the hole he was already in. Tom had taken it upon himself to almost lock himself in his bedroom.

It was two months after the funeral and Tom still hadn’t gotten rid of your stuff, nor had he gotten rid of the photos of the two of you. Harrison was trying to pull his friend from the darkness that consumed him, but nothing was working, he was lost without you. He’d come back a week ago, he was colder, much more than he’d used to be. He became unfair, almost unrealistic in his expectations of the men around him.

“Tom?” Harrison popped his head around his office door. Harrison stopped in his tracks, not prepared for the scene before him. “Mate?”

Tom was crying as he looked at the wedding ring that had sat on your finger, not noticing Harrison’s presence. He placed the ring down as he pulled one of your favourite hoodies from under his desk before stuffing his face into it as he started to cry uncontrollably.

“Tom?” Harrison panicked as he ran to his friend.

“It still smells like her.” He replied weakly, not removing his face and Harrison understood now why he hadn’t thrown your things out. “I want her back. I can’t do this without her.”

“Tom,” Harrison sighed. “She’d want you to move on. She loved you so much and she wouldn’t want you to be like this.”

“How do you know? How do any of us know what she’d want? She’s not here. She’s never coming back, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t want anyone else, the thought of another woman. Harrison I can’t. I love her more than you can possibly understand.” He cried into your hoody again.

It had taken a few years, but Tom was back to how he had been before he met you, he had a few one night stands here and there, they all had the same thing in common, they all looked like you had but none of them ever stayed, he wouldn’t do that. He always said that no other woman would ever be able to claim that place, it was always yours.

He wore your wedding ring on a chain around his neck, he never parted with it, never removed his own, it sat on his finger like it had since the day you’d put it there. No other woman was ever allowed into his bed, not in your place. He’s learned to deal with it in his own way and Harrison was glad he could have a laugh with his best friend again.

“Where’s Tom?” A man asked as they entered the meeting room, Tom wasn’t in his usual spot, Harrison filled it.

“It’s their anniversary.” Harrison said quietly.

There were 3 days and nights a year where Tom didn’t work; your birthday, your wedding anniversary and the date you died. He made his way to the small plot on the land of his estate, it was yours, you’d always found it peaceful in that corner of the garden and it stayed yours, the only gardener who was allowed to touch it was the one who knew exactly how you liked it.

“Hi baby.” Tom spoke as he laid the flowers on your gravestone. “I hope you’ve had a good day up there. I just know you’re the prettiest angel they have up there, you were down here.” He spoke as he wiped a tear from his cheek.

“I love you. I hope you’re waiting for me. I know I’m waiting for you.”

#tom holland #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland one shot #tom holland fic #mob!tom #mob!tom x reader

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ilikemesometaetaes · 3 years

Text

Set Me Free (M)

Min Yoongi Oneshot

•••> Author: @ilikemesometaetaes

•••> Summary: You are just an ordinary woman with a strange aura about you that Yoongi can’t seem to resist- even past the compulsion of his mentor. The question is: why?

•••> Pairing(s): Yoongi/Reader

•••> Requested by @itsgottabeyoo-ngs : “Hi daddy, One shot request with vampire Yoongi x brat reader. Bonus points for adding in choking or spitting idk make it filthy k thanks love you byeeeee xoxoxoxox”

•••> Word Count: 10.95k

•••> Rating: 18+

•••> Warnings: smut, oral (female receiving), unprotected sex, murder, attempted murder, slight choking/strangulation, dirty talk, biting, blood drinking, spitting, violence, horror, vampire/human relationship, cursing, mental attachment, thirsty Yoongi, Yoongi thinks he’s scary, but he’s totally not

Thank you for the request, babe! This one is a bit to unpack, as you can see. I hope you enjoy :)

~#~

Yoongi never claimed to have his thirst under complete control.

He stands before his brothers once every week for the feed, snarling as he consumes his share of blood, while the others bear witness so as to provide him ceremonial protection- a vampire is very vulnerable while he consumes blood. The polydipsia made one lose all form of reason and sense of mind, driven to the brink of animalistic insanity when it was in the process of mildly quenching the eternal hunger.

Polydipsia, used to describe his level of thirst, was the word made just for him in his own little world.

It wasn’t normal thirst, like a human, but the savage-like impulse to drink and drown until he could swim in a river of blood and take deep lungfuls of the crimson fluid. The impossible desire to consume and be completely consumed by blood until he became it himself always loomed over his mind in his early days as a Deadblood- a vampire youngling- causing him to search for a word that could completely describe his affliction.

Then the Greeks begun transforming their language, perfecting the word that he could use to chronicle his need. He had mulled over the thought throughout the few centuries that the word came into existence, truly connecting with it on a level that was deprived of him when his soul was taken from his body.

But the word was not only used to describe normal thirst; it described the abnormal desire to drink as a symptom of disease- and a disease is what Min Yoongi had.

From the days he explored the lands of Goryeo as a young teenage boy, he knew that disease racked every inch of the world. Street beggars, riddled with sicknesses and incurable illnesses, asked him for coin, food, clothing, and any necessities that could potentially carry them through the night into another sunrise. But the one thing that they begged for the most was water.

Liquid life. Yoongi thinks back on the ironic turn of events and how, even as a privileged boy of nobles, he understood just how desperate a person got when they were deprived of the one, singular fluid that supported life as he knew it.

As Yoongi approached adulthood, he was promoted and bestowed larger honors in the name of the Min clan, allowing him to provide more for the beggars and lower-class individuals that he came across on the streets every day- not that his father would find out.

Until he did.

Yoongi recalls the moment he knew that his father figured out that his son was spoiling the family riches on the lower class. They weren’t sitting down for dinner and having a conversation nor taking a stroll along the river like the two of them normally would- it was quite surprising, really. Yoongi had to applaud his father for the creativity of the circumstance.

He knew that his father figured out his whereabouts when he found himself bleeding out in the middle of the woods with three arrows, adorned with the Min clan crest carved into the wood, sticking out of his chest. He was sent to look for his supposedly lost little sister under the direction that she was probably at a watering hole- which Yoongi had never heard about- about forty-five minutes from the edge of Goryeo’s walls.

Many people ventured outside of the city to fend for food and necessities, or to find civilization elsewhere, so it wasn’t surprising to him that his curious baby sister wanted to see for herself what life was like outside of the city’s limits.

As Yoongi lay dying on the soil of the earth, staring up at the greenery of the trees above while they lightly swayed in the breeze, he realized that everyone, regardless of social-class or physical health, was fighting the same, universal disease: death. No one could escape it and no one was safe. At least, that’s the epiphany he had in an effort to comfort himself while he felt his heart painfully struggle to beat with an arrowhead lodged into it. Copious amounts of blood spurt out with each pulse of his damaged organ.

And then the universe decided to set him free from death with a cure worse than the disease itself.

Yoongi doesn’t remember who his creator was. He doesn’t remember how long he spent on the forest floor with the arrows still in his chest. He doesn’t remember waking up.

His memory of his new life started from the moment his consciousness returned, in the exact second that he found a set of vocal cords clutched in the palm of his hand, dripping with crimson, after apparently ripping them out of a young boy who was actively collapsing in front of him. The boy, who Yoongi immediately recognized from the streets of Goryeo, was choking on his own gore as he clutched at his now nonexistent throat, staring up at his killer with a jumbled expression that silently begged for help yet withdrew from terror.

It took Yoongi five years of trekking everywhere and no where while attempting to control his thirst before he found new meaning. He mostly had a hold on the scorch in his throat by staying away from the city and surrounding villages before he met another and figured out what he became.

The woman- no, girl?- appeared young yet spoke as if she had seen countless winters, the wisdom of a million middays glowing behind her carmine eyes. She was the first person he had met who did not end up dead within the first two minutes of scenting them on the wind.

“You are a vampire. You survive purely on the life essence of others. You are still a young Deadblood. Judging by your age, you should become a Redblood soon.” She sat with her back to him, overlooking the valley below the then-unnamed Odaesan mountain that they sat perched upon. “Do you know who created you?”

“Created me?” He asked. “What do you mean? My parents?”

She turned, her vibrant red eyes continuing to shock him. Did his own orbs look like this?

“I mean, who turned you?” She seemed to look at him incredulously, shocked by his lack of knowledge. “Who gave you their venom- their shi?”

“I…” Yoongi tried very hard to remember anything before the burning sensation that scraped like rocks against the insides of his bones and flesh, but all he could see and feel was fire and agony- and then blood. He couldn’t help but think with a grain of salt, disbelieving of the method in which he was born into his new life. “I don’t know. I just remember from my first kill.”

“Strange.” The other vampire muttered, returning her gaze to the valley. “Strange, indeed.”

Yoongi was always the silent type, only interacting when he needed to as a habit formed to avoid the questioning glare of his father when he returned home late on certain occasions.

But he couldn’t help the burning desire of curiosity within him, a welcome distraction from the need to feed within him. He had so many questions.

“You may ask your questions, Min Yoongi.” The woman sighed, not even bothering to spare him a glance whilst she spoke. The man was shocked to find that she knew his name without him telling her.

“How do you know my name?” The new revelation took precedent in his mind, hoping that she was not an enemy of his clan.

“A valid question.” She mused. “Anticipated, but valid. I suppose I’ll answer your question to the best of my ability.”

Yoongi shifted his position in preparation, a new habit that he formed in his new life. He learned from the first time he moved to stretch that his body did not need to be stretched as it usually did. He never ached, never cramped, never tired, and never lost energy. Despite the lack of his emotions in their usual form, he knew that it should have been unsettling to find such a new change within him, so he did the sensible thing of pretending that he needed to.

He pretended he needed to breathe- after two hours at the bottom of a lake he stumbled upon in his aimless journey, he was amazed to find that he required no oxygen to continue existing- and that he didn’t need to sleep nor use the bathroom. He would practice taking breaths, trying to inhale and exhale evenly without becoming allured to the pungent yet undeniably attractive scent of animal blood so that he could finally smell the forest again. He pretended to go to sleep and wake up with the urge to relieve himself of the noneixstent pressure in his bladder despite not having any of the instincts he once had.

The woman spoke, answering his first question.

“I can hear your thoughts. They’re not necessarily specific, but I can hear when you are wistful- like you are now- or when you are curious or sad or angry. I can hear the causes of these emotions.” She paused. “It comes with the gift of my second life. A form of protection, if you will.”

“Why would I need protection when I am invincible? I’ve seen the things I can do and what my body can endure.” He briefly recalled repeatedly jumping from a cliff, automatically landing on his feet no matter how hard he tried not to. Before, he had a will to survive with a choice of dying, but now? There was no comprehensible choice. “There is nothing that can hurt me.”

Yoongi couldn’t help cocking his head to the side like a confused dog when the woman let out a breathless laugh.

“Because, young one,” She looked at him with her eyes again, a look of mock endearment filling them. “You are not invincible.”

For a moment, Yoongi did not believe her. He believed that the liquid running through his veins was pure ichor, an essence of the gods, but when he returned her look of sincere truth, he understood that dying was still very much possible.

Thanking the gods, Yoongi looked to the ground and began toying with his fingers at his revelation. He could stop murdering people, willing to die in order to do so.

The woman shook her head. “No, Min Yoongi. You do not have to die to stop killing humans. In fact, it is the reason I have not killed you yet. You are unaware of the possibilities.”

His head perked up at the comment, suddenly eager to learn.

“How? How can I live without killing?” All he could see was the young boy that he had murdered in cold blood; the boy’s warm brown eyes staring up at him as he watched the life drain from them burned into his memory- he didn’t even know the boy’s name. The boy could not have been older than his own sister.

“I never told you that you could continue to live without killing. Of course, you have to kill. But you do not have to kill people.” The woman nodded her head down the mount. “Do you smell that? Do you smell the life that lives throughout this mountain?”

Yoongi attempted to focus on his senses but could only feel the thirst once again tormenting his throat. As soon as the woman shifted his attention back to the aroma of life, he salivated. Of course, he smelled the animal’s scents, but he could also detect traces of human life upwind that completely took away his desire for anything but humans.

“Push the thirst aside to open your senses. Embrace them. Embrace your power and your abilities. Focus on those.”

Again, he tried to push the scorch in his throat to the side, only to find that it was an impossible feat seeing as he had not fed in several months. He wanted human blood so badly.

“Poor child. I did not realize how weak you were.” She let a grimace morph her features, the first true expression of genuine emotion that Yoongi had seen on her. “Come sit in front of me. I will help you.”

For a moment, Yoongi hesitated. Was she going to kill him? He was not sure, but after a few more thoughts to himself, he realized that he had nothing to lose. Following her direction obediently, he moved to sit with his legs crossed in front of the woman.

“Now, close your eyes and listen to my voice.” She raised her hands to his head, placing her fingertips on his temples, and began whispering while he let his eyes flutter closed.

He felt as if he was mentally hit by a charging bear.

The woman’s words echoed in his mind, seating themselves amongst every corner and crevice that they could touch before Yoongi could understand what was happening. Shocked by the feeling of being intruded upon, he tried to push back against the mind-numbing force of her words, uncomfortable and feeling violated by the sensation. Instead of stopping them, her voice just broke down his amateur attempt at a mental barrier and pushed its way further into his brain. He was helpless to her superior mental awareness and gift.

“You will not focus on the thirst. You will focus on your abilities. Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.”

And Min Yoongi had no option but to obey for he was forced into a dieted life.

But as he stands, thousands of years later, in the middle of your kitchen whilst watching you silently with the inferno of the blazing sun in his esophagus, he couldn’t help the need that overcame him. He could not obey his mentor; miraculously and horrifyingly, the gift of his mentor did not work with you.

He was impelled by his mentor’s gift, effectively removing most of the bloodlust he had for humans. In his lifetime, after the unavoidable command was bestowed upon him, he had only killed a handful of humans when he was consumed by the thirst after living in self-induced exile for so long. But standing before you, he may have needed to add a finger to that handful depending on what you did next.

Yoongi first clocked you on his radar the moment you walked into the small coffee shop he was occupying for the later part of the morning.

Building a friendship with you was quite easy.

You were bright and warm and everything wonderful upon meeting him. Your smile was just shy of naive, yet he couldn’t help the alien tugs on his heart when watching you giggle.

“How old are you, Yoongi?” You asked while circling the straw in your caramel macchiato.

“Old enough.” He chuckled, looking down with what you perceived as shyness.

“Oh?” You laughed with him. “And how old is enough for you?”

“I could ask you the same question. How old do you think I am?” He met your eyes, once again shocking you with their beautifully vibrant shade of brown.

“Well…” You trailed off, studying his facial features closely- the hint of a permanent smile line, fresh haircut, and no wrinkles alluded that he couldn’t be over thirty. “I’m gonna say… twenty-five?”

The man across from you smiled. “Very close. I’m twenty-seven.”

So he wasn’t that much older than you. You could totally do him.

Yoongi noticed the flash of lust that ghosted through your pupils for a split second, recognizing the dilation of them as you glanced at him. He watched you stick your chest out a bit more, begin fiddling with your hair more often, and part your lips while you let the thoughts of sexual satisfaction run across your mind.

“Twenty-seven, huh? That’s not bad at all.” You smiled, letting your tongue lightly swipe along your bottom lip unconsciously.

Yoongi zeroed in on the action with a piercing gaze, watching as the muscle seemed to move in slow motion tauntingly, daring him to dig his fangs into it savagely before tearing it from your mouth to feel the blood pouring from your lips onto his face.

His body reacted sensibly, blood rushing like fake adrenaline to awaken his better instincts- rushing everywhere- and making his jeans become uncomfortably tight as they restrained his filling manhood.

Blood drinking was as exciting as it was satisfying for a vampire. An extremely personal and holy moment, consuming lifeblood was the most raw and sexual moment to experience. A vampire could not experience real sexual desire without it.

He dug his fingers into the faux leather of his side of the booth until they broke through the material to restrain himself from attempting to attack you in the middle of the day.

Quickly, gaining his sense of mind once again, he tore more holes into the leather to round out the punctures so that it could appear as if the holes were from wear and tear.

The scent of your blood transpierced by the hormones and adrenaline beginning to flow through your veins made it just that much more implausibly alluring. Yoongi admitted that you were a beautiful and kind woman from the conversation throughout the morning. He also knew that you had a deviant side due to the surprisingly quick appearance of your lust-filled gaze.

Yet he couldn’t help the urge to murder you on the spot.

He knew that he couldn’t touch you. The supernatural safety of the sun that shone on your body prevented him from laying a finger on your skin without his own lighting aflame. He learned the protection of sun rays on humans the hard way.

His fifth human victim, a monk who travelled the heights of Mount Odaesan- Yoongi’s sanctuary and home- for a religious trial, travelled early in the morning as the sun was rising. Yoongi smelt the sweat dripping from the man’s skin instantly. In the small cove he called home, he tried to resist the urge to kill the man for he hadn’t smelt human blood in several years.

His mentor’s words were ever present. ‘Focus on the blood of animals and the blood of those already dead.’

Despite having those words affecting his instincts, Yoongi had managed to convince himself that the monk was a dead man standing once he smelled remnants of a virus tainting his scent, effectively bypassing the impulsion of the woman’s mind control.

Yoongi found himself rushing at the man without a second thought, fangs bared and fingers curled in preparation to tear the man’s limbs from his body. However, before he could get within two feet of the vulnerable monk, he was thrown back by an invisible and boiling hot force that left him screaming in agony and flying through the air.

The monk quickly ran back down the mountain in terror, yet Yoongi could pay no mind as he lay on the forest floor, ready to die once again as his skin singed and fell from his flesh like swamp sludge.

As his throat tore itself raw from his wails of misery, his body writhed in and out on itself in complete and utter anguish. The smell of burnt flesh overwhelmed his nostrils, pungent and nauseating in every possible way. How he was able to focus on something other than the pain was beyond him.

Despite the burning, Yoongi could feel his aflame skin beginning to heal itself. Clawing through the dirt, he felt the blood stored in his stomach rushing through his veins to the broken and severed ones, rebuilding them and recreating the network of arteries necessary to begin restoring his expanse of skin.

Before long, the pain subsided and Yoongi was no longer screaming. The entire ordeal lasted approximately twenty minutes- long enough that Yoongi no longer heard the footsteps of the monk and long enough for him to process the events that had just happened.

He was thankful that he became a Redblood with the ability to use consumed blood throughout his body, unsure of what would have happened to him if he had been a Deadblood at the time. Deadbloods burned through consumed blood quicker than a spark from a flint could ignite kindling into a flame.

He definitely needed to ask the woman, Zizi, about it. And he definitely needed to track that monk until sundown so that he could get rid of any loose ends.

Yoongi grimaced slightly, remembering the occurrence like it was yesterday, as he sat across from you.

You were still looking down at your cup in blissful unawareness of his inner turmoil and life that he’s lived thus far. You definitely were not dense enough to not notice his gaze on your skin, but you were definitely ignorant of the fact that he was thinking about what would happen if he could just get you to move a few feet to the right to gain cover from the direct line of the sun. He just needed to get you into the shadows.

“Y/N,” He called your name. You instantly looked up in response. “How old are you?”

“Old enough.” You teased him back with his own words. He let a small smile thin his lips before he looked down to hide it. When you followed his gaze and noticed that he didn’t have a drink, you jumped to the opportunity.

“Can I buy you a drink, Min Yoongi?” You asked him.

“Oh, I’m not particularly craving coffee at the moment.” He paused and held his breath, as if trying to find the words to say. “I just like to sit here sometimes and enjoy watching the street.”

“Well,” Ask him! Ask him out! Yes! Do it! Your head screamed at you to be confident. You knew he was the shy type; you would be waiting all day for him to make a move and you just didn’t have the time nor patience for that. “Let me get you a drink at my bar?”

The man looked mildly impressed for a moment. “You own a bar?”

“A small one.” You swiftly added. “It’s not a big popular one or anything but I didn’t want a place too big. I like the smaller things.”

Yoongi couldn’t help but smile. You were a kind and beautiful woman living a simple life. He dreaded the moment that he was going to have to kill you.

“I take it you’re pretty well off then?” He asks. “And please don’t take this as me digging around. I’m just curious.”

“Don’t worry about it. Yeah, actually.” You laughed and sat back in your chair, looking out the window onto the street as people and cars passed by. “I’ve always been pretty lucky for some reason. The gods always seem to be in my favor and give me what I want.”

Yoongi smirked for a moment. If she wants me, she can have me. Then, I’ll have her.

When Yoongi found himself in the prime position to attack you in your kitchen, several weeks later, he knew. He finally had you where he wanted you.

A handful of dates that he found quite pleasant were all it took.

You turned out to be just what he thought- a strangely attractive and alluring woman, the scent of your blood aside. You exhumed an odd magnetism about you that Yoongi had never felt from a human. He regretted the decision of waiting so long to kill you seeing as he was considering letting you live. But he knew that he couldn’t do that.

With your back turned to him, busying yourself with dinner, he could easily snap your neck so that you wouldn’t scream and struggle- and you would be dead almost instantly. A quick and nearly painless death was what you deserved. He didn’t want you to suffer at all.

However, just as he crouched in preparation to lunge at you, you spoke.

“Are you ready for dinner, babe?” You asked him.

He smiled devilishly, venom filling his mouth as he salivated. “Yes, I am. I’m starving.”

You chuckled. “Okay.”

“Go and sit down at the table.”

It was the most simple of commands. Telling Yoongi to sit down wasn’t an order. You weren’t demanding him to do it. You never demanded anything of him. It was a mere suggestion in your eyes.

Yet Yoongi felt his body moving to the dinner table without a second thought, unable to resist obeying your words.

What in the everliving fuck.

He sat quickly, impotent to move from his spot while he waited for you to bring the food from the counter. His thirst obliterated his throat, causing it to seize up and restrict any air that he could previously breathe, but he sat in wonder as you seemed to hold power over him that he had never felt before.

You turned with both of your dinner plates in hand and he quickly smothered the panic on his face, wondering what in the world had just happened.

“I’m not at all a chef, but you better eat everything.” Yoongi tested your words, seeing if the inclination to finish your food was present, only to find a slight mental nudge- as he expected. You didn’t tell him to do anything; you merely made an ‘or else’ statement.

No longer desperate to kill you for the time being, Yoongi sat still and waited for your next words. Once you sat the plate in front of him, you uttered a joke.

“Dig in.”

And dig in Yoongi did. He picked up his fork and scooped into the pasta you made without any willingness to deny you.

The pasta wasn’t fantastic in any sort of the word- It was plain, although it could be due to the fact that it wasn’t at all what he truly craved and needed. It was like eating a piece of stale bread while he was offered a perfectly cooked and outright juicy steak on a silver platter. The food that he ate wouldn’t be consumed by his body and used for nutrients; the shi in his stomach would burn it to nothingness within the next few hours.

Uncontrollably, Yoongi shoved mouthful after mouthful into his mouth- he couldn’t stop. Once he finished chewing one bite, his hand was immediately bringing him another, and then another. Despite lacking the need to breathe, Yoongi felt himself suffocating with each bite as the realization that he could do nothing except eat his food settled in his mind.

“I see you were hungry.” You laughed, unaware of his predicament. Yoongi’s eyes shot up to yours and silently hoped you would give him another command so that he could stop the foolishness.

You, however, just sat there feeling sort of proud of yourself- not only for making an edible meal, but for making one Yoongi seemed to enjoy. Even though it was slightly shocking to see him out of his usually cool character, acting like a man suffering from hunger, you couldn’t help but find it undeniably cute.

Eating slowly while watching him, you let your feelings for him come to the surface.

Yoongi was utterly beautiful. His black hair that fell over his face while he was cleaning up the last bits of his plate was just long enough to cover his eyes, yet as he looked at you without reservation, you felt he had a clear line of sight straight into your soul.

His skin was nearly flawless save for the light and narrow scar that cut into his right eye. Others found the scar intimidating and ugly, but you found it rather attractive. Yoongi, with his uncanny physical allure, was undeniably the most beautiful man you had ever seen.

Your body was alight with joy and content. In the few weeks that you got to know him, liking him was incredibly easy and having him in your home, in a domestic setting, lit your heart on fire with the possibility of falling in love with him.

He was incredibly easy to love, you discovered. Everything about him begged you to fall for him. As if the universe created him just for you, Min Yoongi was the epitome of perfection- in your eyes, anyway.

Briefly, you had shown a photo of him to your mother. She became unsettled instantly by his appearance.

“He’s so pale. And a little scary-looking.” She squinted at the photo you took of him when he wasn’t looking. You never brought him up again to your mother, disliking the fact that she didn’t like your potential boyfriend and found him scary.

The picture just happened to be your favorite- being because he didn’t like pictures and it was the only one you had of him.

He kindly asked you to not take photos of him. When you prompted him as to why during one of your more intimate moments at your bar, he only answered playfully as he held you close to him, lips begging for you to kiss them.

“Because I don’t want to leave evidence.” He whispered, breath tickling your nose. His body was warm and sturdy, muscles rippling under your touch as you clung to his shoulders.

“Evidence from what?” You asked breathily. The heat in your panties had increased tenfold over the last few minutes as his eyes grew hungrier with want. Yoongi’s fingers dug into your waist painfully, pulling you so close that you barely had room to expand your lungs to breathe, yet you couldn’t help the edgy feeling of how rough he could be with you.

“From when I eat you up.”

Thinking back on the memory, you shivered involuntarily, hoping that tonight might be the night you actually get to have him. He’d made you wait for a little over a month and you had no idea why. You definitely felt him straining through his pants a few times. But no kisses or anything further than the pressing of your bodies was accomplished.

Yoongi finished his plate and sat upright briskly, pulling you from your wishful thinking with a jump.

“Y/N,” He nearly growled, shocking you. “What else do you want me to do?”

The fork you were holding clattered to your plate instantly. Wow. He’s sizzling hot.

“I-“ You stuttered a bit. “I- uh.”

“Spit it out.” He hissed. You jumped again, trying to find the words to say with the heat growing in your panties.

Quickly, you answered him. “I want you to take me to my bedroom.”

“Thank god.” He groaned, getting up slowly with a smirk on his face. “Is that just a request? Because I can walk out now if you don’t actually want this.”

“Take me to my bedroom, Yoongi.” You stood slowly, carefully, as if you were afraid to trigger him.

Yoongi pushed in his chair and moved towards you at a speed that was almost inhuman. You yelped in astonishment as Yoongi attempted to control himself- he couldn’t bring you to your bedroom at his natural speed or else he would have a very motion-sick human to worry about. Instead, he trembled with the effort to resist your command at full force, knowing that the only way it was possible was due to the fact that he was still, in fact, taking you to your bedroom.

Picking you up was easier than breathing. You weighed absolutely nothing in his arms because of his advanced strength, so when he felt you trying to assist him in carrying you by holding your body stiffly, he huffed out a laugh whilst he walked.

“Relax, woman. You are as light as a feather.”

You blushed under his words, leaning into his chest to hide your cheeks.

“Stop that.” He growled, entering your bedroom. You looked up at him and he couldn’t tear his eyes from the blood that rushed to your cheeks. “I can’t resist if you do that.”

“Then don’t.” You whispered. Your heart pounded in your chest, begging him to hear it. “Don’t resist.”

His fangs came forth immediately, for he could not resist your command while he flew to your bed to throw you down. Despite your unknowing of what you were telling him to do, he fostered no opposition to what he was about to do.

The roughness of his throw startled you for a moment as you looked up at his vastly approaching figure, only to grow terrified when you caught sight of his face.

The veins protruding out of his temples and cheeks pumped blood straight into the whites of his eyes, turning them completely bloodshot, as they framed the now-crimson irises. Long incisors protruded from his mouth as he opened it with a hiss, revealing the way his human teeth shifted apart to allow his inhuman ones to break through the gums. Instantly, you parted your lips to scream.

Yoongi was upon you instantly, hand covering your mouth and silencing your cry while he snarled menacingly, yet he couldn’t help but feel remorse for killing you.

“I’m sorry.” He whimpered through his animalistic demeanor. “I can’t stop.”

You were screaming below his hand and, instantaneously, he had an idea.

He was leaning forward slowly, able to slow himself in the process of not resisting you. “Y/N,” He strained, changing the frequency of his talent, and waited for you to silence yourself in order to listen to him. He took his hand off of your mouth slowly after he heard your heart calm itself past your weeping. “Tell me to stop.”

“Stop!” You sobbed whilst clawing at his chest and kicking at his legs. “Don’t kill me!”

Not a second passed before Yoongi flew off of you, throwing his back to your wall with a loud thud while he cursed lowly.

You scrambled to the headboard of your bed, pressing your back against it in an attempt to gain some distance between the two of you. Your eyes were wide, chest heaving with your breath short, as you looked at the man in front of you.

“I-“ Yoongi stuttered for the first time in decades. “I’m sorry.”

“Your eyes!” Your burst out. You were unable to contain your fear and shock, so you displaced it into your curiosity. “Y-your- Your face! Your teeth!”

Yoongi stood against the wall, breathing just as hard as you, with his eyes cast to the floor in the process of trying to control his facial features. He could no longer kill you. The thought revolted him- every time he considered drinking your blood, the idea was banished from his mind with a sense of nausea following. Good god. She is unaware of her ability yet I am completely at her mercy.

“I apologize. I couldn’t help myself.” He breathed. What Yoongi forgot to take into account was the fact that he began implementing the gift of his second life on you the moment he stepped foot through your threshold, so your mind was completely scrambled by this point.

It was nighttime now; he could not leave your house no matter how hard he tried. He knew of the fallacy that vampires needed to be invited in and he found himself giggling from time to time at how close humans got to the actual lore of his kind.

He could enter your house, uninvited, during the day. He could lurk every corner of your abode without a bother, yet when night fell and the sun finally set, he would be stuck inside until morning. He knew he would be staying the night in your house the moment he agreed to have dinner with you. If he attempted to enter through your door during the night, however, he would have no luck- the night’s protection would convince his brain to walk away from your home without any further reconsideration until he was a good distance from it.

He was in the first position now.

He wished that he could leave you and disappear from your life without a trace so that you could live a peaceful and happy life without him, but he was afraid that it was impossible now with sundown a mere two hours prior. Your powers were no match for the natural protection of the earth. The both of you had a long night ahead of yourselves.

So he used his ability. Yoongi gave you control- rational thought, rather. His gift allowed him to grant organization of the mind and precise focus to others, but he could also take it away.

Upon entering your home, he began the process of slowly but surely ebbing away your barriers and logical thought- he couldn’t do it too fast or else you would panic like you were now. With a presently impossible-to-kill human whose heart was beating out of her chest and a command to not kill you forcing him into submission, he was obligated to prevent you from having a heart attack that was caused by him.

With laser-like focus, he channeled his gift straight into your open mind. Yoongi rebuilt the walls he had previously broken down over the past few hours, restocked your jumbled thoughts into their proper spaces, and flowed his energy through each corridor of judicious conception so that you could continue to develop your focus into that of supernatural proportion. He hoped that you, with a new mind, would tell him to get away from you and to kill himself. Dying by the hands of such a robust ability wouldn’t be too bad of a way to go.

You, however, never had such a decisive mind. Your mind was never clearer and you had never felt such clarity in your thoughts before. It allowed you to feel the magnetism that he radiated.

You knew he was a vampire. You don’t remember how you knew or how you recognized it, but you knew that he was not the first of his kind you had come across. Maybe it was the obvious fangs that gave it away.

“Yoongi,” You whispered. “You’re a vampire.”

His eyes, now back to their normal gorgeously coffee-bean shade, flicked up to yours in surprise.

“You know what I am?” He spluttered, flabbergasted. “You don’t think I’m a demon? Or the devil?”

“I’m not stupid. I know a vampire when I see one.” Your tone did not waver nor shake despite being a potential victim to a vampire. Was it the adrenaline?

“Then you know that I am a danger to you.” He said lowly, shock still evident on his face, while he began gravitating towards your bedroom door to leave.

“No. Stay.” You found yourself pining for his presence while he froze up in his spot. You eyed the action analytically. “If you were a danger to me, I wouldn’t be alive right now. You had plenty opportunity to kill me.”

“That’s the thing,” His hands pressed to the wall and scratched into it with the effort to move further from you. “I don’t have much of a choice anymore.”

“And why is that?” You relaxed your body and slowly slid your way across the bed towards him.

“Because I can’t.” Yoongi actually gasped for air as you stood from your bed to slowly approach him. “Y/N. Don’t come near me.”

“Why don’t you have a choice?” You ignored his warning, fully aware of the risk you were taking yet uncaring of the consequences. You were too focused on the fact that you actually wanted him.

Yoongi could not move from his spot, a side effect of your command to stay, but he refused to meet your eyes. The irresistible scent of your blood clashing with the order to not kill you fucked with his mind in ways he never experienced, creating an excruciatingly splitting headache between his temples. He wanted to drink from you so bad yet he could not move a single muscle.

“You can tell me to do anything. You can tell me to stay away from you. You can tell me to leave you alone. Hell, you can tell me to kill myself and I’d do it.” He ground out, attempting to press his back further into the wall as he felt your body heat against his skin. You came too close. He could smell your hormones lacing through your blood, triggering a wash of his shi over his dry tongue and a yearning to tear you apart overriding his senses.

He wanted to sink his fangs into your flesh so badly that he was beginning to scare himself. Allowing his venom to seep into your system would undoubtedly send you into ecstasy; you would only feel a pinch of pain as his saliva instantly burned through your nerves and set them alight. He could kill you while you were in pleasure; you wouldn’t feel anything but bliss as he drained the life from you.

“And why do you, a powerful creature such as yourself, allow me to have this power over you?” You asked. Was he in love with you? You definitely could love the man with how much you felt drawn to him but, for crying out loud, it had only been a few weeks.

“I don’t allow it. You are a gifted human. You possess this power over me.” Although Yoongi enjoyed having a calm conversation with you, he couldn’t help but feel bad that he used his gift on you. It was almost an unfair playing card- a “get-out-of-jail” card.

Because you should be running, terrified and screaming, even with his ability active in your mind. Maybe he had used it too much? Yoongi recalled the one time he went overboard with his gift, driving a man to suicide as he focused too much on the meaning of life and the regretful things he had done. Immediately concerned, Yoongi reached out a mental tether- a rare talent amongst his kind- to gauge your stability.

What he found, instead, was a dark and curling line attaching to his, pulling it in as quickly as Yoongi offered it. Before he could reel back away from it, it was fully intertwined and pulling his line to attach to you, only to rear back and completely obliterate his senses when it entered his head.

No. No no no. It’s impossible.

Yoongi was moving forward and caging you against the bed at full speed before he could stop himself, nestling his body between your eagerly opening legs as a hiss escaped his lips. Immediately, he realized that he broke through your command unwavered. The thirst came back at full force when you moaned from the friction on your heat.

“You’re-“ He tested the sensation of true, sexual arousal with a slow grind of himself into you, gasping with a jerk of his dick when his action squeezed his member between his body and yours. “You’re my-“

You moaned again, sitting up slightly to try and capture his lips with your own, unable to control the desire that surmounted in your heart. When he resumed his look of shock, backing away from your advance so that he could look at where your bodies touched, you spoke through the heady emotion. “I’m your what?”

“It can’t be.” He whispered. After a single beat, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours with a crushing pressure that split your lip instantly.

The pain seared across your bottom lip and distracted you for a moment, emitting a groan deep in your throat that he matched when the taste of your blood exploded onto his tastebuds. Instead of swallowing it like he wanted to, he brought a hand to your chin and opened your lips to spit your blood, along with his venom, back into your mouth so that it would take your pain away.

For a moment, you held the mix of liquids on your tongue, unsure of what to do as no one had ever spit in your mouth before. You looked up to him with confusion extremely evident in your arched brows.

“Swallow it.” He growled.

The taste of iron and an almost sugary sweet tang of saliva was too strong for you to keep sitting on your tongue, so you did as he told you to before he kissed you again to repeat the same action. Slowly, you got into the rhythm of swallowing what he gave you.

Before long, he simply gave you his tongue, allowing you to suck the saliva from his mouth greedily. You didn’t understand why, but the taste was addicting and adding to the pulsing feeling that radiated between your legs. Were you getting lightheaded? No. This sensation was much more blissful and exciting.

He pulled away after sucking on your wounded lip once more, spitting the mixture into your awaiting mouth for a final time before sitting up to look down at your body.

His venom was already taking effect. He could smell it on your skin as it flowed through your veins and filled your system just like a virus would. It would be simple to turn you at this point. You would be his for eternity, bonded to him in ways only the Fated One of a vampire would. Yoongi shook the thought from his head as he wasn’t even sure that you were, indeed, his.

“What am I to you?” You asked genuinely, swollen lip slightly obstructing your speech.

“Don’t worry about that right now, Y/N. Right now, I am going to fuck you, okay?” He met your gaze with his dark eyes filled with confidence, knowing that you would be unable to deny him if his belief was true.

“Yes. Yes, please Yoongi.” You breathed, begging him almost drunkenly. “Please. I’m yours.”

His mind was nudged forward by a different force this time, warranting unknown instincts to play into action.

He felt his center of gravity shift. His skin grew tight and uncomfortable around his body from the emotion that wished to burst through the surface. He breathed with you. Perfectly aligned were your rhythms; his heart soared alongside your own galloping one, desperate to match you in every aspect. The sensations in his body were difficult to ignore as he felt the ancient and sacred pull of a bond lacing itself through his limbs.

Instead of pondering over the reality of it any further, he slid his hand from your chin to your shirt and pinched the fabric between his fingers. You nodded in reassurance.

Your clothes tore form your body like paper. Wrapping his fingers around your arm to keep your body in place, Yoongi ripped your thin blouse from you easily. Your breasts, made plump by the bra you wore, caught his attention the moment they were revealed. Perfect.

Instead of looking like a moron seeing exquisite breasts for the first time, he moved his hand to your dress pants so that he could rid your body of them. In under ten seconds, Yoongi had you almost bare below him. Perfect.

Not even realizing it until you brought your thumb to his lips to swipe his shi from the corner of his mouth, Yoongi shook his head at the fact that the sight of you wriggling and bare-skinned beneath him made him literally drool, but his instincts went haywire when he watched you place your thumb in your mouth to suck his venom off yourself with a low moan of appreciation at the taste.

Yoongi’s hands couldn’t move faster as he tore the clothes from his body, stripping himself bare to reveal himself to you. He wanted to give you everything. To open his mind and spread everything out for you to see- he hoped you could handle it.

You, on the other hand, were laying below him with the desperate need to have him inside you.

You wanted him everywhere. You wanted him to sink himself into you- it seemed to be the only fathomable option. You wanted him to hold you and kiss you and surround you with everything him.

As you stared up at him with a needy look in your eyes, you couldn’t help but want him in every facet possible.

You saw yourself making love to him, holding him, kissing him- loving him. The new sensation brought on you by the psychic connection- that was all you could call it when you felt the mental attachment- brung passionate emotions through your body in an onslaught that you could barely handle. It was too much to deal with without him inside you to be with you through it yet you didn’t know if you could handle what would follow.

Yoongi could smell you through your panties; a delicious scent of the most raw tease he had ever allowed himself to indulge in. Unable to help himself, he moved down your body quickly, throwing your legs open- rather roughly- to give himself room to press his nose straight into your heat. Your aroma filled his nose as he expanded his lungs, triggering his natural instincts to push out his fangs and load his vision with blood to enhance it despite his eyes being closed. Fuck, he wanted to consume you.

You keened at the contact, closing your thighs around his head to trap him there. You felt his groan vibrate on you, driving you closer to the brink of insanity.

Without any further time wasted, he grabbed onto your panties and ripped them from you to expose your pulsating pussy to his mouth without moving his nose away from your intoxicating scent. Not a beat passed before he dug his tongue into you to scoop up your DNA-laced juices. Fuck.

Yoongi lost himself in you immediately. You whined out a small cry, unable to keep yourself from grabbing onto his hair and yanking when all you felt were his lips and tongue laving over your opening relentlessly. There was no skill nor technique in his movements; he was simply devouring you without a mind to pay attention to your bundle, yet you couldn’t stop the sensitivity from boggling your mind and driving you to an instant orgasm.

His hands squeezed your thighs around his head and, for a brief moment, he opened his eyes to look at you. The color of his eyes staring back at you was unexpected- a solid, snow white color filled his orbs and contrasted starkly with the red hue of his engorged veins and bloodshot scleras.

“Yoongi,” You whimpered from another swipe of his tongue and suck from his lips. “Y-Your eyes.”

He pulled away from you instantly at the comment, eyes widening and wet mouth hanging agape, while you let out a groan of relief- or sadness- at the lack of attention to your incredibly sensitive core.

“What color are they?” He asked.

“White.” You struggled to speak, voice cracking under the post-orgasm glow.

He took a moment to look down at your heaving body and messy pussy, jerking forward slightly at the sight of your delicious juice smeared all over your thighs. Once he had a handle on his thirst again, Yoongi met your eyes as the white faded from his irises. “Then you are her.”

“I’m who?” You reached for him, needing to hold him anywhere you could get your hands on. Yoongi caught this action immediately, the same desire to grasp you evident in his hand rushing to meet yours. It was natural to intertwine your fingers while he leaned over you to press his lips to yours in a short, uncharacteristically loving kiss.

“You are my Fated One- my mate. You hold my soul in the palm of your hand, as I do yours.” He murmured, feathering his lips over yours as he spoke.

Under normal circumstances, you don’t think you’d be able to comprehend his words with your current position with him. You were exposed to him and he was exposed to you, making you feel vulnerable and turned on beyond belief. Yoongi was reaching behind you to unclasp your bra while you took in what he had said. His thumb was brushing over your bare nipple before your bra even hit the floor.

“So-” You had to clear your throat again. “So you’re mine? Like, completely?”

He chuckled warmly at your question and you couldn’t stop yourself from reciprocating the smile.

“Yes, Y/N, I am yours.” He brought his hand down to grip your thigh and move it to the side. “I belong to you.”

Yoongi placed his dick against your folds and you watched him so do. You felt his tip capture onto your clit several times as he lathered it with your arousal languidly, preparing himself so that he could slide into you easier. “However,”

“However?” You looked up at him with a questioning look accentuated by your eyebrows.

“You are also mine.” Yoongi stopped his movement so that the head of his cock finally caught onto your opening, kickstarting your heart into a pace that you were afraid would kill you. “Do you understand that?”

He didn’t wait for you to answer.

Torturously, he began to push inside you. You widened your legs to accompany his approaching hips. As you warbled out a cry when he decided to drop his control and fill you completely in the next second, Yoongi began speaking again.

“Do you understand that everything about you,” He reared back and pushed inside you again, forcing your legs open to take him while he did so. “-is mine?”

You couldn’t respond. Your emotions were running rampant with your mind overflowing from too much stimuli while he fucked you. He spoke again without your reply and you could only pull him closer to you and take the feeling of his cock caressing your insides.

“Your lips,” Thrust. “your eyes,” Thrust. “your hair, your hands, your skin;” He punctuated each part of your body with a ram of his dick into you. “Everything, Y/N.”

Yoongi took a moment to look down at your joining bodies, smirking softly at the sight of how easily he slid inside. “-Especially this greedy little cunt of yours.”

You watched his smirk drop while he bit his lip and ground himself into you, lips parting again with a low moan whilst keeping his gaze transfixed on the sinful sight. You watched him in awe as his cock plunged so deep that it felt like it was in your throat.

He snapped his eyes to yours quickly, repeating his prior question. “Do you understand?”

Expecting to be interrupted by a thrust, you sucked your bottom lip in your mouth and braced yourself, only to be grabbed by the neck while he leaned down to bring you face-to-face. You could no longer breathe as he pulled his lips back to reveal his fangs. “I asked you if you understood, Y/N.”

With your airway restricted, you could only nod with your lip still stuck between your teeth. Did you taste blood? Promptly, you remembered that Yoongi busted your lip, yet you were confused as to why you hadn’t felt the pain of it since he first kissed you.

“And are you okay with that?” Yoongi began to nose his way down your neck once he turned your head to the side and slowed the rhythm of his hips. Right before you could answer, he released your neck to look at your face, allowing a large rush of air to enter your lungs just as you were attempting to give him an answer.

“Yes!” You released your lip to scream out at the welcome sensation of oxygen and the feel of his dick pushing it right back out of you. “I’m yours! Everything is yours!”

“Good, my love. Good.” He whispered, smiling down at you. His smile was wiped clean off his face in a heartbeat, his thrusts into you completely ceased, as he zeroed in on your lips. You licked them subconsciously, immediately tasting blood and internally cringing at the flavor of iron coating your tongue.

Yoongi attached his lips around your bottom one quickly and you felt him suck it into his mouth. Your walls squeezed tightly around his at the sensation of his tongue swiping over the spli in your engorged lip again and again. You knew that your lip would be swollen yet you couldn’t find yourself to care because it, surprisingly, didn’t hurt at all. The small bits of Yoongi’s saliva that slipped into your mouth were enough to keep you on edge, tasting like raw sugar at that point.

He began moving inside you again, starting a slow and steady pace. You whimpered into his mouth as he began taking his fill of your blood and you mirrored his thirst with the need to taste his mouth again. Your lips pressed closer to his in order to, hopefully, get a bit more of his spit.

You felt your orgasm building laggardly. It was creeping in at a speed that you were able to prepare yourself for your ascent towards ecstasy. You tightened your legs around his waist and dug your heels into the globes of his ass, pulling him in.

It wasn’t until you were bordering on your climax that Yoongi pulled away from your lip with your pop and sat up to focus on fucking you, his peace of mind obviously waning.

You saw it in his face; you saw the way he couldn’t control his veins from darkening his face; you saw the way his eyes burned white and the way he was attempting to hold himself back from attacking you.

So you did him a favor.

“Yoongi.” You mumbled past your swollen lip. “Bite me.”

Min Yoongi had no option but to obey your command.

He surged forward, pressing himself against your clit deliciously and bottoming out as he lunged for your neck with his fangs fully protruded and a warbled hiss scratching its way out of his throat. With barely enough time to prepare, you bared your neck to him once more and clutched onto his arms for dear life, hoping it wouldn’t hurt too bad.

What you weren’t expecting was for it to feel unreservedly good.

The sensation took you by surprise, warranting a loud moan to escape from your lips before you could stop it. Why did his fangs feel so good in your flesh? It should definitely be hurting. But all you could do was moan and whine like a madwoman as you felt his lips close over the puncture wounds and begin to drink your blood straight from your flesh. His tongue continuously swiped over the teeth marks in your neck, keeping them clear from your body’s natural ability to scar itself and begin blocking the escaping blood. Every lick he delivered sent a pulse straight to your clit and an automatic instinct to tighten yourself around him.

Your pussy quivered around him uncontrollably. You were so close to cumming that you could practically taste the release on your tongue. In the few moments that Yoongi took his sips from your body, his slow propulsions forward into you had become more rough and insistent- as if he was trying to split you in two. Even as you felt your life essence leave your body, you were being filled time and time again by his cock at a deep and passionate rhythm.

At the first sign of getting lightheaded from blood loss, you came- hard.

Your juices squirted around him every time he reared himself back and your eyes rolled to the back of your head while you craned your neck back into your very-bloody pillow. With no where to go, unable to still him with his supernatural strength, you were only able scream out his name.

His speed increased through your orgasm and your sweet exclamations of pure bliss drove Yoongi into a lunatic, freeing himself of control and using his uncanny speed to fuck into you. Your extremely drenched pussy, still convulsing around him was battered and raw, yet he could not find it in himself to care as he desperately surged into you over and over again so that he could fill you with the cum of several centuries. Picturing the image of your cunt spewing his release from it had him closing his jaws and pulling on your wounds harder to get more blood from you.

He knew that he couldn’t drain you. Hearing the pulse of your heart weaken slightly was enough to make him detach his teeth and lick over your wound so that his shi could assist it in healing- it would be completely sealed and unblemished in the next few hours. Instead of worrying too much about your neck, he reared back to look down at you again while he grabbed onto your hips with fervor.

You saw the drops of blood running down from Yoongi’s mouth and chin drip onto your breasts and stomach, creating an erotic and utterly unwholesome image of carnage and horror on your body, but you were unable to help yourself in feeling unsettlingly drawn to the wicked image. With a new flash of desire exploding through your body and reawakening your lust, you reached up and grabbed his neck, pulling him back down to trap him in your embrace.

The oversensitivity of your last orgasm was enough to send you hurtling to the edge of another orgasm- You just needed his fangs in you one more time. Silently begging for it, you kept your grip on his nape and softly nudged him back in the direction of your neck.

Yoongi was close. You could tell. But even past his stupor, he spoke.

“Y/N. I can’t. I took too much.” He almost whined with need, struggling to form words past his fangs.

“Just-“ Your body jolted wildly as he desperately tried to cum. “Just do it!”

Yoongi was able to deny your command, which he figured was due to not being a specific one, yet he couldn’t bring himself to leave it unanswered as his body built in preparation to release.

“I fucking can’t!” He was close to roaring at this point, gums aching to meet your flesh as he pressed his fangs into you and filled you with his essence. He wanted to so badly.

“Drink from me, dammit!” Your eyes were welling with tears of frustration, needing that small push from him to make you orgasm again- his dick hammering your cervix was too much to handle without that small bit of pain to ground you. And without hesitation nor the choice to deny you, he did.

Your orgasms were perfectly in sync as he placed his fangs back into your wounds, delicious blood spilling across his tongue once again. Liquid life. It was the perfect few words for how you tasted.

Your pussy ached with the force of how tight you squeezed around him and Yoongi groaned lowly against your neck as he pressed himself so tightly to you that you knew his hands would be leaving bruises on your hips and ass.

“Yoongi.” You sobbed as his cum filled you, pulsing spurt after warm spurt of the hot liquid onto your abused cervix. The thought of him taking your blood while he gave you his cum was too sinful for you to bear, an outburst of emotion causing you to chant his name over and over again. Never before in your life had you felt so complete and free.

You could feel your blood levels draining as you slowly came down from your climax, knowing that you would not be awake for much longer if he kept drinking.

“That’s enough.” You whispered tiredly, head becoming truly lightheaded. Yoongi, unable to rescind his teeth from your neck, kept drinking from you as the thirst and aggression of the first mating actuated his movements. “Yoongi.”

He tried to pull away- he really did- but the feeling of your blood coating his tastebuds was like finding a quarry in the middle of the Sahara Desert. He lacked the true thirst for humans for thousands of years- and now he was suffering the polydipsia for blood all over again.

“Yoongi, stop.” You commanded, testing your supposed ‘power.’

Yoongi ceased to drink from you yet his fangs were still embedded in your skin, vibrating with pleasure and need. As he stopped, he couldn’t help but whine and then growl savagely with want. The vibration of of his throaty sound in your flesh did things to your body. Unable to resist the temptation, your body clenched involuntarily around his softening cock.

Yoongi groaned again, retracting his fangs and face from your neck, and sat up once more to look at your body. With a slow hand, he stuck out his index and middle finger to smear the droplets of blood on your stomach in small circles aimlessly, picturing you as a canvas made just for him to ruin. “You’re quite the minx, aren’t you?”

“What do you mean?” You giggled deliriously, needing sleep as soon as possible.

“I mean,” Yoongi reached down to smear a droplet of blood across your hip before digging his thumb and fingers into the bone and the flesh of your ass harshly. “Your cunt is playing games with me right now.”

“How so?” You tilted your head to the side in mock confusion.

The vampire pressed his lips into a thin line and sighed almost disdainfully. You gasped as you felt his dick jerk within you, filling to stiffness once more and awakening a new cloud of lust despite the exhaustion you felt. “Well, if you want to play clueless, you can play clueless. We have eternity to teach you how to not play games with me, my mate.”

For eternity? You kind of liked the sound of that.

~#~

If you’d like to read more of my work, feel free to check out my Series Masterlist! If you’d like to read my first fic, check out the DHYB Masterlist!

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myboiparkerimagines · 3 years

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4:28 - Tony Stark x Reader

Prompt: 19 and 34 with Tony Stark

34: “You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?” 19: “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me”

Your heart was beating out of your chest. You picked up your phone to check the time - 4:28. It was clear you would be getting no more sleep tonight. You sat up, contemplating your options. You could wake up Tony and spend a few more hours with him before the mission or try to fall asleep.

You made up your mind pretty quickly.

His room was only three doors down but you often found it hard to go there at night. He told you that you were always welcome, but you still wanted to respect him and allow him his sleep. Sleep came so rarely for him and you always did your best not to disturb him. But, tonight was different.

You rapped on his door three times, before he answered. “Can I come in?” you whispered. “Yes.”

His room was mostly dark, only illuminated by a small desk lamp and the floor lights installed under his bed. His skin glowed faintly, reflecting the soft rays. “What do you want?” he asks, jokingly crossing his arms. “Well, I don’t think I’ll be getting any sleep tonight so I thought I’d come in here and spend some time with you,” you smiled, crawling into bed beside him. “Oh, really?” he asked, before you wrapped your arms around him, cuddling into him. “You come to my room and wake me up at 4 am, to cuddle?” “Yes I did,” you respond. He sighs, wrapping his arms around you. “You and I have very different ideas of what’s supposed to happen at 4 am.” “Ha ha,” you mock, before looking up at him and busting into actual giggles.

“Why are you really here?” “I’m worried about tomorrow.” “You’re going to be in and out in five minutes flat. I promise you’ll be fine. There’s really nothing to worry about.” “I’m not worried about me, Tony. I’m worried about you,” you say, pushing yourself up to look at him. “I’m always worried about you.” “Hey, I’m gonna be fine. You don’t have to worry about me,” he says, wrapping both arms around you. “I do though. You mean everything to me.” “Trust me, I know how you feel. I’m always worried that whoever’s after me will go through you. It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever had to deal with.” “I think that’s an exaggeration.” “Trust me, it isn’t.” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I think I’m in love with you, and that scares the crap out of me.”

You heart flutters in your chest. “I love you, Tony.” While the words had never been spoken aloud by the two of you, you had been aware of them for a while now. You portrayed your love through action, but tonight everything was spelled out. The word ‘love’ was able to do funny things to your heart.

Tony pulled you closer to him, kissing you on the forehead. “Get some sleep, and I’ll try to, as well. Everything will be fine tomorrow.” “I know it will. Just be careful.” “I’m always careful.”

F.R.I.D.A.Y. woke you up only 3 hours later. “Good morning, boss. The plane leaves in thirty minutes.” That was your cue to leave. You got ready quickly, meeting the rest of the team on the roof to board the aircraft. Today’s mission would be much more difficult than usual. You were only ever called in as backup as Tony hated the idea of you actually on the ground. With telekinesis you could often complete the mission from base, but this time was different. You needed to be close to control them. They were different, stronger, than anything you’d fought before. “It’s gonna be okay,” Tony said as you loaded into the carrier. “I promise,” he said before gently kissing your forehead.

You claimed the copilot’s seat, which was reserved only for you. Tony sat in the pilot’s seat, effortlessly navigating the jet until it was safe to go into autopilot. Upon doing so, he reached and grabbed your hand, squeezing it gently. “We’ll be there in ten. You better suit up.” Tony stood. “And that goes for all of you, not just the sexy one in the front.”

Cap dropped in first, scanning the primary defenses. Nat, Clint, and Thor went next, with Bruce dropping shortly after. Last were you and Tony - set to go straight into the threshold and disable from within. That was mainly your job, but Tony would never let you go without backup. Like he said, you would be in and out within five minutes. A piece of cake, really.

“What are we dealing with?” Tony asked as you scanned the area. “I’m not sure. I think it’s a hive mind. No wonder I had trouble reading it before. It’s incredibly strong, but interconnected.” “So they’re out there fighting-” “Aliens,” you finished for him. “They’re fighting a system of interconnected aliens.” “Beautiful. Go ahead and shut ‘em down.” “Okay, but once they feel me in their mind, they’re going to attack. Every single one of them is going to come straight to us.”

“Well, then, I guess we better be fast,” Tony said, closing his helmet. “Alright team, you all need to make your way back to us. And you better beat the aliens.” “Aliens?” Nat asked. “What do you mean, ‘aliens’?” Cap added. “Alright, go ahead,” Tony said, giving you the all clear.

Your middle and pointer finger on your left hand connected to your temple, while you placed your right hand onto the ground, sinking your energy into the core. It was tiring and painful, and it’s affects were deadly. You were only ever called on scene to capture or kill, and both took a hefty physical and mental toll on you. When your waves connected to the hive, you could feel its pain. It crept into you the way your powers crept into it. The pain and anger boiled in you, ripping a scream from your throat. You could hear commotion surrounding you, but it was blurry and undecipherable. Every ounce of strength you had surged out of you, until, finally, it was calm.

You collapsed onto the cool ground, aching for sleep, but your mind stayed conscious - slowly allowing your surroundings to sharpen. “Come on, you’ll be okay,” you heard Nat say in the distance. “We need a med team to our current location. Quickly,” Steve added.

For who?

You tried to sit up, but your vision blurred and mind ached. “You just need to rest,” Clint said, clearly to you this time. “Who’s hurt?” you ask, squeezing your eyes shut in order to numb the incessant throbbing. “Everyone’s fine. You just need to rest now. We’re getting out of here soon.”

You opened your eyes quickly, fighting off the pain that was building in your head. At the other side of the room, Tony sat against the wall with something metal lodged in the right side of his stomach. “Tony,” you called out weakly. “Hey, sweetheart,” he responds, voice as weak as yours. “Are you okay?” Your head is getting light and the room begins to darken around you. “I’m okay.” You begin to slump over, but Clint catches you and lifts you into his arms. “Tony, I-” you say, before losing all consciousness.

You’re in the medical ward of the Avengers facility when you finally wake up. Your head and arms have multiple cords attached to them, hooked up to a variety of machines. They all beep at different times, further disorienting you. “Where’s Tony?” you ask one of the nurses writing down your vitals. “He’s in another ward.” “Can I see him?” “He’s recovering now, miss.” The machines beep rapidly as you begin to raise your fingers to your temple. You had sworn long ago never to use your powers like this, but you were desperate.

Desperate and stupid.

The nurse looked at you for only a moment before sticking a needle in your arm, immediately returning you to sleep. When you wake next, Tony is at your side. You cry out his name and reach out for him, aching to be in his arms. “Everything’s okay,” he says, holding you tightly. “I shouldn’t have tried to control that nurse. I was just scared. I’m really sorry,” you cried into his shoulder. “I know. They expected you to react like that. That’s why she was ready with the tranquilizer.” “I don’t know what came over me.” Tony pulled you away for a moment to look you in the eyes. “If I could’ve made someone let me see you, I would’ve in a heartbeat. Don’t feel bad. Everything’s fine.” You sink back into his chest, a sense of calm washing over you that hadn’t for ages prior. “I love you.”

#tony stark x reader #tony stark imagine #iron man x reader #iron man imagine #avengers imagine #avengers x reader

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whatifxwereyou · 3 years

Text

The Oncoming Storm Part 3: Earthrealm

Fandom: Mortal Kombat 2021

Liu Kang x Reader or Kung Lao x Reader

Summary: You meet the mythical Lord Raiden. He reminds you of your dad, but nicer, oddly enough. Liu Kang might also be your new best friend.

A/N: Thanks again everyone! This has been such fun. I meant to say earlier that this takes place a couple years prior to the film (also that I know a bit about MK as a game series, so I will include tidbits here and there if I can). ALSO! I am open to any suggestions that you may wish to see throughout this story- either for Liu Kang or Kung Lao. I can't guarantee I will use them but I will consider them. I am delighting in writing this!! EDIT:: lol why did no one tell me there were so many errors in this one. All fixed!

The Beginning << Previous Chapter Next Chapter >> Chapter Index

The days that followed were a struggle. Monks would visit and care for your wounds at all hours of the day. You were in and out of consciousness. When you did manage to stay awake, you would meditate and do simple exercises to keep your body strong. That was a struggle in itself. Wounds needed rest to heal but you refused to become weak to them in the meantime. You were ready to fight.

Without fail Liu Kang would visit every evening. He brought books for you to read together. On his second visit he gifted you with a crudely bound leather journal and a pen to take notes with. You were inquisitive and Liu Kang was a wealth of knowledge. On nights where you finished a book or a lesson early, you would meditate together. Other nights you would chat and often times those chats would end in swapping personal stories. You had become fast friends.

You kept a calendar in the back of the journal. Liu Kang helped account for the time that you’d lost to unconsciousness. A week had passed since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple. You circled the x over the day and wondered where Kung Lao was. You’d asked around about him but had been told that many of the Earthrealm warriors were often absent. Apparently, he was frequently gone for long stretches of time. Many of the monks left on lengthy errands. Mortal Kombat and the protection of Earthrealm extended far beyond China. You wondered how much of the world Kung Lao had seen. You’d barely ever left your hometown for anything other than martial arts tournaments.

“Miss Y/N?” A monk pulled aside the sheet that had been pinned around the doorway of the small closet-sized space that had become your semi-permanent dwelling. You offered the monk a tired smile and gestured to allow him to enter. The monk bowed politely. “Your presence has been requested by Lord Raiden.”

“Oh?” You had known that you would meet with the man who the temple belonged to eventually. Liu Kang had told you that you would be summoned only after you’d been deemed well enough. You hadn’t passed out in exhaustion for the last 48 hours so you supposed this was as good a time as any. “Give me a moment to change, if you will.”

“Yes, of course Miss Y/N.” The monk bowed and left you with some privacy. You’d grown accustomed to the dressing gowns. They were comfortable and since you didn’t move around much, they worked. You’d been given several lightweight gi for future training and several hanfu, traditional Chinese garments, to wear if you desired. You wished, more than anything, that you’d gotten to pack some of your things before everything had gone to hell. No t-shirts or tank tops. No jeans or leggings. Not even any cute summer dresses. But you were grateful to have anything.

You changed into the soft blue and white hanfu that had become your favorite. It was simpler in design than the others but still long and flowing. You didn’t need anything terribly fancy to have a conversation with someone. You were sure that if Lord Raiden expected you to dress up then you would have been warned. Considering that Liu Kang rotated through the same three tattered gi and was almost always covered in soot, you doubted there was a strict dress code.

After you changed, you pulled your hair up lazily with a set of chopsticks. Then you returned to the monk who was waiting for you in the hall. The monk bowed again and then led you through the halls of the temple. The floor you’d been on had very few windows and only in the hallways. You followed the monk up several ramps and flights of stairs. Endless halls branched in every direction making the whole place seem labyrinthian. You were certain that you could spend weeks exploring the halls and still manage to miss things.

If the monk hadn’t been leading you then you wouldn’t have been able to resist your curiosity. After a good thirty minutes spent walking, you were led into a dark hallway with a rounded ceiling. It disappeared into the distance lit only by odd white statues that stood in a line along its center. The monk bowed and gestured down the hall.

“Good luck, Miss Y/N.” The monk then left you alone. You approached the glass statues in the center of the hall and found their insides sparking with electricity. They were funny in that they reminded you of a sophisticated and silent Tesla coil that fired constantly. Below the frosted glass you could see currents of electricity flowing almost as you imagined lightning would through the clouds. Your fingers brushed curiously over the glass.

“Miss Y/N?” A commanding and deep voice called from the end of the hall. You felt like a child who had disobeyed your teacher and winced. You hurried down the hall as quickly as your legs would allow then bowed before entering the room at its end.

“I’m sorry. I haven’t seen much outside of the infirmary. I was fascinated.”

The man who stood before you was of average build and height, his face mostly obscured by his hat. You grinned in surprise and recognition but then quickly fought to hide your glee. Raiden’s expression was severe, reminding you very much of your father and the way he’d glare at you when you’d said something un-lady-like as a child.

“There is much to discuss.” He gestured for you to take a seat on the floor in front of where he was seated with his legs crossed so you did. Much to your surprise, he was floating several inches off the ground and while you tried to hide your shock, you were sure your eyes had gone wide. “I am Lord Raiden; the protector of Earthrealm.”

“It’s an honor to meet you. Liu Kang has told me a little about you.”

“I am not surprised.” Raiden had a commanding voice as well as presence so you listened attentively. He explained the nature of other realms though he didn’t go terribly in depth with their origins or existence. Outworld was their greatest opposition with the desire to control earth and humanity. They were brutal warmongers from how Raiden described them. He then explained the tournaments and how if Outworld won a tenth tournament they could lay claim to Earthrealm.

Shang Tsung, a powerful sorcerer, would lead his armies there and take humanity as slaves. You didn’t ask but you wondered if Shang Tsung was the ruler of Outworld. You figured that if it were important then Raiden would tell you. He went on to tell you that Outworld had done this before with other realms and they had been devastated into waste.

Raiden spoke in a way that made it seem as though he had lived through countless lifetimes. While his tone often sounded severe, he also spoke with great purpose. “Our next tournament will not be for a few more years. You are one of Earthrealm’s chosen warriors.” Raiden’s lecture was winding down. “Do you have any questions?” You had known much of what Raiden had taught you that day but still sat patiently through it.

“I think I understand. If I have any questions later then I can ask Liu Kang. It’s difficult for me to wrap my mind around this craziness, for lack of a better word. He’s been very patient with me. The idea of arcana and how I’m meant to fight warriors from another world is still wild to me but I understand the concept. I think with time and practice I will be better off.” You stifled a giggle and then cleared your throat to stop any further giggles from escaping.

“Is there something you find funny?”

Guilt again. The kind you’d felt exclusively around your parents.

“You’re the man with the funny hat.” Your cheeks burned when he seemed affronted by your description of him. “I don’t mean to come off as rude! Forgive me. My shop is on the edge of town and there are many travelers passing through. I remember you from one of those visits. You chose your words carefully and spoke very little. You required precious stones and, as I often do, I made polite small talk. I asked what you needed them for and you said in the protection of Earthrealm which you quickly corrected to the protection of nature. You opened my eyes long ago to the secrets of the world though I was doubtful there was any truth to it until now.”

Raiden’s expression shifted and he seemed pleased but he was also difficult to read. You hoped he was pleased. Despite his severe and intimidating presence, he seemed well meaning.

“I don’t recall this instance but am happy to learn that there are those who learn the truth without panic or dismissal.”

“So, I have to fight then.”

“More than fight. You must find your arcana so that you may stand a chance against the warriors of Outworld. They are ruthless and possess skills that may seem impossible to you. Without your arcana you will not stand a chance.”

“How do I do that? Find my arcana, I mean.”

“Through trial and adversity. Everyone is different. Your arcana is unique to you.” Raiden stood and so you did the same. “Your training will begin tomorrow.”

You weren’t sure you were ready for that but you bowed respectfully. That was tomorrow’s problem. “Thank you. I promise to work my hardest.”

Raiden said nothing but didn’t look as though he quite believed you capable. You had long ago stopped seeking the approval of others. Actions spoke louder than words and you would do as you promised. Raiden turned from you without another word. You waited for an awkward moment to be dismissed then turned and left. You chose not to linger in the hall with the pretty lightning sculptures that had distracted you earlier.

The path back to the infirmary wasn’t easily found and you wandered aimlessly for a time before asking a monk to help you back to the infirmary. You were exhausted. Upon arrival you closed the curtain to your tiny room and sat on the edge of your bed. Your arms were aching. You were sore and tired. Gravity didn’t agree with your healing wounds. Training was going to be a bitch but you would be better for it.

Retrieving the journal Liu Kang had given you, you made yourself cozy after rekindling the flame of your lantern. You went over the notes from the day before and smiled. Your handwriting was often sandwiched between his. You’d had a difficult time holding a pen for the first few days and your handwriting was atrocious. There had been times where you’d been too dazed with exhaustion so Liu would take over and explain what he was writing down. He was incredibly considerate.

You drifted to sleep leaning against the wall behind your narrow bed, book in your arms. In your very brief dreams you’d been seated with a young Kung Lao in the field outside of your grandparents’ farm. The more you remembered of him the more you could see the man he’d grown up to be.

A knock against stone startled you awake and you jumped upright. Standing in your doorway, peering through the curtain was Liu Kang. He seemed surprised.

“Did I wake you?” He stepped inside and closed the curtain behind him for privacy. How long had you slept? Crap.

“What time is it? Did I sleep through training?”

“No.” He laughed and it was a welcome and comforting sound. “It’s quite late but I was busy today and had no time until now. I wished to see you before bed.” He spoke of you with such fondness that if you hadn’t been half asleep then you probably would have blushed. You adjusted yourself and made room for him to sit next to you on the bed as you often had while reading. He joined you gratefully. You watched as he brushed his thumb over the prayer beads that often went from wrapped around his wrist to his palm and back again. “Tomorrow is going to be difficult, Y/N.”

You guessed that he would be the one training you. He was one of the only warriors with the marking that stayed in Raiden’s Temple besides Kung Lao that you knew of.

“Promise not to pull any punches, okay?”

“I knew you would say that.” He nudged your shoulder with his.

“I mean it, Liu. It’s been over two weeks since this happened. I’m ready to fight. If I’m going to survive all of this… otherworldly supernatural nonsense then I have no choice. Besides that… I want to do this. I want to fight.”

“I need you to promise to be safe.”

“That’s very sweet, Liu, but I’m a fighter. I’ve been fighting for years. I’m ready to help and more importantly, I’m ready to feel strong again. This thing with the poison and my arms? It’s taken a toll on me. I need to be okay.”

“I understand, I think.” He slipped the beads back around his wrist and caught a glimpse of the journal that you’d fallen asleep holding. Then he looked back toward the door. He was nervous. You could feel it.

“Are you okay, Liu?”

“I’m fine.” He picked up the journal and tapped the pages. “Would you like to study?”

“Can’t sleep, can you?”

“Oh, right. It’s late. I apologize. I woke you. I should let you rest.” He stood, bowed, and then turned to leave. Without thinking, you grabbed his hand. If your arms hadn’t been aching, you would have pulled him back to you. Liu Kang was very aware of the strain that it would put on you to pull so he stopped dead in his tracks. He was always aware of what was going on around him and your aching arms appreciated that more than ever.

“You can stay. We can keep reading. I’d like that.” You insisted. Liu Kang smiled and so you let go of his hand, realizing that you’d been holding it for perhaps too long. He grabbed a hefty book that had been resting beneath your side table. You’d made your way a quarter through it over the past few days. Then you sat together, leaning against the wall. He read to you and his soothing voice nearly lulled you back to sleep. It provided you with a sense of security you hadn’t felt in a long time. Studying with him, even in your worst moments of pain, had become a fond memory.

The words were familiar and so you snapped one eye open. “We already read this.” You waited for a pause in his natural cadence.

“No, we did not.”

“We did, look.” You pointed to your journal and the scribbles in it from the night before. Your handwriting really was terrible. You could make out bits and pieces of it. Liu had the patience of a saint for trying to decipher it. He squinted at the letters.

“I can’t read that. No one can read that, Y/N.” He tapped the page you had pointed to. “That could say almost anything. Are you bored with the history of the Wu Shi Academy?”

“No! We were just further along than this, that’s all. Look, just…” You shoved the journal in front of the book and he laughed. His laugh was sweet and filled with warmth. “I think that this is highlighting this passage here about the foundations and the energy wells beneath it…”

“You can’t possibly read that. We have established that it’s gibberish.”

“I wrote it! I can sort of make out little bits…”

“We have to work on your penmanship, Y/N.”

“I got all sliced up where the tendons and stuff are. They’re still healing!” You whined and then pouted. Liu took the journal and set it on the bed just beyond your feet. You reached past him and turned the pages of the book, searching for the next chapter. “At least get to the part with the arena. You promised that we would learn about that next. You went on and on about it.”

“I did no such thing. You can admit that you’re bored.” Liu teased. You flipped the pages again without his permission so he tried to tug the book away and you jolted to the side with him, hair falling into your face, chopsticks now useless. Much to your surprise, as you righted yourself, Liu helped you and pushed your messy hair away and tucked some of it behind your ear. Your laughter subsided and you avoided his eyes as his admired you. You swore your heart skipped a beat. “Your hair.” He brushed a few strands between his thumb and forefinger.

“Oh?” You dared to look into his dark eyes that were rivers of thought and emotion. You had no aspirations of unraveling them. You liked their mystery.

“The color.”

“Oh, yeah… I uh… I haven’t been able to keep up with dye here and it’s naturally white.” You pointed to the roots that had begun to show.

“White? That’s peculiar.”

“Wow, thanks. Yeah, I know it’s weird.”

“I didn’t mean any offense. It looks nice.” He seemed to realize that his hand was very much still in your hair. His tongue ran nervously over his lower lip while he was lost briefly in thought before he pulled his hand back. “We’ll read about the arena but only because you have chosen to entertain me at a late hour instead of turning me away.”

“And because you realized I was right.” You joked but your stomach was very much in knots. This was no time to be feeling butterflies in your stomach but there they were. Liu Kang made you feel butterflies. Literal butterflies. You hadn’t understood that idiom until now.

“There will be a test, Y/N.” He joked and smoothed out the pages of the book. You retrieved the journal and pen but had given up on writing notes for the night. Your arms were still aching and you were drained. Liu delighted in sharing a map of the ancient arena and reciting battles that he’d won and lost there. His voice was a soothing and familiar drone and before you realized it, you were falling asleep, head falling against his shoulder.

Instead of leaving you there to sleep, Liu Kang continued to read. Sometime later you woke up and the flame in the lantern had gone dim. Liu was still seated next to you, his head now rested atop yours. From his soft, slow breaths, you guessed that he had fallen asleep too. The book was rested neatly on top of your journal as if he had made the decision to put it aside and stay. You should wake him and send him back to his room. He would be more comfortable there. Selfishly, you wanted him to stay. He’d chosen to stay so you decided to let him have his choice.

For the first time since you’d woken up in Raiden’s Temple, you went to sleep feeling secure and comfortable.

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