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deadsetobsessions · 4 months

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Danny used to be a vigilante, firmly on the side of good. Like, illegally, but morally good.

Danny’s 100% sure that whatever he is now, it’s not good.

Is Gotham’s influence just Like That?

He was homeless when he got to this thrice damned city (literally, because Lady Gotham was so cursed) and now he’s… here? In a mid-level penthouse with a rotation of homeless kids going in and out of his kitchen and eating out his pantry??

Danny adjusted the cuffs of his dress shirt, making the conscious decision to ditch the tie. He’s a tall 6ft 4 now, taking after his Dad. His head smarted all of the time, hitting doorframes when he was being a bit clumsier than the normal ghost-like grace he had learned to channel as The Phantom.

The Phantom instead of just Phantom. Why? Because Phantom was the name of a teenage vigilante in another dimension. The Phantom, on the other hand, is an intimidatingly tall, deceptively kind, extremely dangerous kingpin.

Honestly? Danny didn’t even want this life. Like, he had no idea it would snowball like this??

He supposed that it all started when the Penguin was trying to snatch kids off of his block on Crime Alley. Not officially his block, of course, because Danny didn’t actually enter this city to be a crime-shadow thing. But he hadn’t lost enough of Phantom the Vigilante to ignore kids getting hurt. He still hasn’t, if he’s being honest. He flew into a frantic search, tracking down the missing kids to Penguin’s bar. The Iceberg Lounge. Apparently, he wanted the kids to do some menial tasks and what not. Danny, rage flickering through his core, intangibly went in and robbed Penguin of every coin and secret the man kept.

Then? Danny blackmailed the Penguin to guarantee his kids a measure of safety from the Rogue. That began the slippery slope into whatever it is he does now. Penguin was being kept in line by Danny’s threats, the grip he had on the Rogue’s weak points, and a wonderful bit of intimidation.

——

“What, you stinking phantom? I’m stickin’ to yer rules!” Penguin snarled, forced to his knees by invisible blob ghosts.

Danny, salty and pissy from the lack of sleep he’d experienced trying to keep Penguin’s men in line as a result of Penguin trying to test where Danny’s lines were, dropped the temperature to the point where Penguin started shivering. Considering the place was already cold- the Iceberg lounge lived up to its name- it meant that Danny was standing nonchalantly in a room that was negative twenty five degree Celsius in a sweatshirt, Danny was already making good on his natural intimidation factor.

“It’s The Phantom to you, Oswald.” Danny said, in the tone of someone saying “it’s the shit, to you.”

Danny narrowed his blue eyes, letting a tiny tint of ectoplasm make his eyes glow a bit in the suddenly icing over room.

“Your people have been getting on my nerves, Oswald. Roughing up kids is so… uncultured. Are you sure you’re a Cobblepot?”

Penguin snarled, the effect of which was rendered ineffective due to his increasingly violent shivers. Plus, Danny loomed over him without even trying.

Danny, annoyed and asking himself “What Would Dan Do To Intimidate This Guy?”, gripped Penguin’s shoulder and hauled him up one handed. He dragged the mob boss over to one of the booths, avoiding the bodies he’d dropped (non-lethally) when Danny first walked in to ruin Penguin’s night. He shoved Penguin in chair he iced over, because Danny’s petty and if he saw one more bruise on his kids at Penguin’s hands, Danny was gonna go full Dan the Murderer.

He at least allowed to room to warm up before laying into Penguin, though. He stayed standing. Hey, he had the height advantage to use. He could have kept Penguin kneeling, but it was probably god the best that the mob boss got some sense of pride back.

(Danny had no idea that sitting as someone loomed over you to lecture and threaten you was even worse than kneeling. At least with kneeling, you knew where you stood. But sitting? It leaves you horribly off kilter.)

“I told you to keep your people in line. Kids are off limits, Oswald.”

“I kept them in line!”

Never let it be said that Oswald Cobblepot had a normal functioning sense of self preservation.

“Really?” Danny jabbed his pointer finger lightly on top of Penguin’s trachea and allowed his fingernails to sharpen into Phantom’s sharper digits. Penguin tried to lean away. “Then why did they start a gun fight when there were kids visible on the street? Why did I see one of my kids get hit by one of your poor excuses of a bouncer?”

“I-”

“Don’t care much for your excuses, if I’m being honest. I let you mess around with the little projects you have, without even breathing a whisper of your secrets. Sionis would love to know how you double crossed him the last deal, yeah?”

“I- I’ll keep them in line!” Penguin stuttered.

“Well, I believe in second chances,” Danny bullshitted. Ancients, how was this even working? “So I suggest you make an example of the guy that smacked Hailey around before I make an example out of you, Oswald.”

“Fine! Fine!”

——

And with that, he got access to Penguin’s resources and men and more importantly, the corrupt police officers. He made Penguin “boot out” the pedophilic ones (in a very violent way) and kept the rest.

Then? Mr. Freeze froze over the god damn pipes and Danny had to intimidate and make a deal with the Rogue so he and his increasing roster of orphans had access to warm water.

In exchange for Danny’s restorative and, more importantly, unmelting ice, Mr. Freeze was now Danny’s… on-call enforcer?? When he’s not researching cures for his frozen in a pod wife, that is.

Danny was satisfied with that. He was! But then Black Mask happened, with the man trying to engage in a battle of wits with Danny over the control of Crime Alley which, at that point, was firmly Danny’s territory.

The thing is, Danny doesn’t play nice anymore. Why bother with pointless mind games when he could just…

——

“So, you’re The Phantom.”

“And you’re Sionis.”

Black Mask twitched at the name, gloved hands pulling out his guns. Danny sat on the counter, head touching mid cabinet, and sipped out of Sionis’ favorite mug.

Because Danny broke into Black Mask’s safe house and stole his quality coffee. The man’s eyes were wary.

“How did you get in here?”

Danny shrugged. “Walked.”

Danny held the coffee out of the way as Sionis unloaded a clip into his chest and lunged forward to slap a mask onto Danny’s face. After waiting a bit, as Black Mask’s smug triumph bled into shock, Danny laughed and, using a bit of his natural strength, tossed the guy off of him. He casually took the mask off of his face.

“Jeez, I’m trying to be nice, here.”

“So, you’re a Meta.”

Danny grinned. “Eh. And you’re a cult leader with a mask fetish.”

Danny tuned out the rant about the “true face of Gotham” or whatever, already bored, and sipped at Sionis’ coffee. The ass might be a psycho, but his coffee tastes were wonderful. Danny stood up, rinsed his mug, and turned back to Black Mask.

“You’re trafficking people. Kids.” He said, cutting through Sionis’ chatter. He was sly about it too, committing violence and torture in a way that would ensure obedience and fear. Danny probably would have never caught on, Black Mask’s schemes being so ingeniously created and executed, had he not kept a hawk’s eyes on the more vulnerable members of Crime Alley’s community. And the rest of Gotham’s vulnerable communities, of course.

“My, a wonderfully obvious conclusion. Now, Phantom, I have a proposition for you.”

Sionis seemed to have gotten his bearings back. Danny tilted his head at him, looking down.

“You can work for me,” Sionis said, before opening a laptop with video feed to one of his masked men or whatever holding a knife to one of Danny’s more fearless kids. Danny snarled.

“Or, refuse, and your kid will lose a finger for every instance of your defiance.”

“I told you not to touch the kids, Sionis. I don’t allow trafficking either.”

Black Mask chuckled. “Cut off a finger, Sadness.”

“Yes, bos- ARGHHHH!”

Danny watched as Mr. Freeze froze the goon’s arms before breaking them.

“I’ve got her, Phantom.”

Danny nodded at Freeze, keeping an eye on Sionis in case the fool bolts.

“So, what are your cards now, Sionis? You’ve sure pissed me off with nothing to show for it.”

And that was the last night anyone heard from the one that was supposed to be the King of Crime.

But Gotham knew the head mounted on a pike at one of Black Mask’s hastily abandoned bases was a warning, that The Phantom was watching.

——

Then he somehow got a gaggle of more orphans that were undead zombie “Talons?”

From there, he just obtained influence over the crime bosses of Gotham. Because his Talons kept bringing him heads and blackmail and his crime alley kids and Gotham orphans kept bringing him information for food and safety?

But like, Danny never wanted anything in exchange for the safety he provided. His core could give less of a shit whether he got anything in return. But he couldn’t convince his kids of that! They’re putting themselves in danger and ugh-!

Danny checked himself once more in the mirror. Ready, he stepped out into the night to wait for the Bats at his new favorite VIP spots.

On the way, he passed Ivy and Harley, who he waved to. Pamela worked under him because he controlled Gotham’s criminal underground (which also mean the official parts of the city considering the sheer amount of corruption) and influenced them into more plant friendly methods. His dominion over Undergrowth also helped immensely.

Harley? They’re friends. He beat up and crippled her abusive ex. She gave him therapy and stopped torturing people for fun.

Danny stepped into the back door of the Iceberg Lounge. No one stopped him. No one dared to.

He settled onto a velvet couch, nodding respectfully at the server that had immediately and nervously set down his mai tai. He glanced around for cameras and wire taps, before giving up and upping his ectoplasmic output to short any recording devices out.

He sipped his drink as he waited.

“Batman.”

“Phantom.”

“Oh, good. You didn’t bring Robin,” Danny said, watching Batman tense. “Kids shouldn’t be in places like these.”

Batman stayed silent.

“Come on, sit.” Danny gestured to the couch across from him.

“This isn’t a social call. I’ll stop whatever you’re scheming-” Batman growled.

“Oh my god, you’re so dramatic. Is this where Nightwing gets it from?”

Batman snarled.

“Sit, sit.” Danny rolled his eyes.

Batman stayed stubbornly looming. Danny sighed, allowing his voice to slip into velvet danger.

“I told you to sit, Bruce Wayne.”

“You-”

“I won’t repeat myself again, Bruce. You’re testing my patience.”

Bruce sat, wary and hyper vigilant. Danny sighed, settling back in his chair.

“You’ve heard of Red Hood, yes? Don’t answer that, it was hypothetical. I know you’ve heard of him.” Danny waved a hand impatiently. “I don’t really care why he’s setting up shop in my Alley, but he’s upsetting the other crime lords. They’re asking me to interfere.”

“I don’t work for you.”

“No,” Danny acknowledged with a nod. “But I could make you, if you push it. Politeness would serve you much better right now, Bruce, seeing as I am doing you a… favor. And since I’m not shouting to the world who you are under the cowl.”

Danny gave Batman a pointed, patented, mom glare.

“… Apologies.”

“Now, you might be wondering what that favor is.” Danny watched Batman’s cowled face carefully. “I thought you should know that the Red Hood is your “Jason Todd.’”

Batman was still. And then Batman leapt at him, snarling, “How dare you-!”

Danny caught the vigilante by the throat and squeezed.

Batman’s flurry of punches- which, mildly ow, those gauntlets kind of hurt- quickly changed to clawing and maneuvers to get out of the choke hold. Danny held steady, cutting off the vigilante’s air supply until he began to go limp. He’s not Superman. Danny will bruise and kill, if he had to.

“Are you going to listen to me now?” Danny asked mildly, emulating both Black Mask’s drawl and Dan’s effortless psychosis.

Batman gave a weak nod. Danny plopped him unceremoniously back onto his couch. He sipped on his drink once more as he waited for Batman to cough some sweet air back into his lungs.

“I’m telling you to get your little birds in line before I have to go hunting, yeah? Keep your kids out of danger, Bruce, and I won’t have to step in.”

“He- how do you know..?” The growl isn’t there anymore, and Danny felt a smug sense of vindication of having smothered it out of the guy. Woah, no, that thought was too Dan and too little Danny. Danny handed him a cup of water, which Batman didn’t drink.

Danny rolled his eyes and raised an eyebrow. “Drink. If I wanted to kill you, I would have done it by now. And as for how I know…”

Danny held up a beat up copy of Jane Austen’s Sense and Sensibility, filled with Jason’s writing. He tossed it to Batman, who caught it with blank eyes.

“Water,” Danny reminded him firmly, feeling like a mother hen. Batman gulped down his water, eyes flicking between the pages of Jason’s annotated book. Ancients, Danny couldn’t believe he annotated his book. A crime lord, like that? Well, it’s not like Danny could say anything.

Batman looked up at him, a silent demand- no, plea, because he’s not in a position to make demands- for an answer.

“Broke into his safe house. You should contact your fling, Talia. Seems like she dunked him into these “Lazarus pits” and told him you replaced him with the current Robin.”

Danny could see Batman’s emotional gears hard at work and honestly, he doesn’t have time for that.

“Now, we’re done here. You owe me one for the information. I’ll collect later.” Danny grabbed the Dark Knight, who stayed oddly unresisting (shock, maybe?) , and hauled him up.

“Tell Tim Drake to eat more. He looks too skinny.” With that, Danny dragged the Dark Knight to the window and punted him out. His kids were waiting on hot chocolate night and Danny had to go shopping for quality ingredients.

——

“YOU COULDN’T HAVE TOLD ME THE BIGGEST CRIME LORD OF YOUR CITY WAS THE FUCKING HIGH KING OF THE INFINITE REALMS?!”

“Hn.”

“BLOODY HELL, DON’T YOU GRUNT AT ME, YOU BROODY BASTARD!”

Constantine let out a scream. Shite, the king who held his soul contract was a crime lord. Great.

——

The reason intelligence and convoluted schemes and genius doesn’t work against Danny is because he’s got weird standards of what he’ll tolerate and the fact is that his normal dumbassery and mother hen tendencies cancels out and coherent thoughts or plans he might have had.

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hells-wasabii · 3 months

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I’m shamelessly asking for some Carmilla Carmine x fem!reader where reader gets nearly killed during extermination day, maybe severely hurt kind of thing cuz I’m a sucker for angst

A/N: And I am shamelessly answering this wholeheartedly Can I just say that I love Carmilla?? And one can never have enough angst. I went ahead and decided to make it a drabble

A/n's A/N: I came back after finishing this, i really didn't mean for it to get so long. It's not a drabble anymore, it's a short fic. the word count is nearly three times what i usually allot for my drabbles.

Character: Carmilla

Type: Fic (Carmilla x fem!reader injured during extermination, Angst, Fluff)

All it takes is one second. Time meant everything during the annual extermination. If you drop your guard, let yourself get distracted, it could mean certain death. This was something that Carmilla had been extra diligent in teaching her daughters, and something that she had always reminded you, her love, her heart, of constantly.

You would always offer a soft smile of reassurance, pressing a kiss to the overlord's hand.

But things don't always go as planned, do they?

No one expected to get separated.

There had been an explosion that had taken out most of the city block. Some sinner trying to put up a fight before their inevitable demise, her daughters informed her after the fact. She had found Odette and Clara easily, both on the same side of the blast as she had been, but she had lost sight of you. You hadn't been caught in the blast, she knew that for sure. You were durable enough for something as measly as that to not be of much effect, anyhow.

But the fact that she didn't know where you had gone made her nervous. No one was truly safe during the exterminations, only hellborns and the king.

Her blood ran cold when your scream met her ears, her head snapping in the direction.

No.

Carmilla was in motion before her mind could catch up. The arms dealer instinctively ran through the streets littered with death and destruction, Clara and Odette calling after her. It wasn't like their mother to act so impulsively.

Turning the corner, there you were, lying in a slowly growing pool of blood. The arms dealer deflated upon seeing you in such a state. If only she had gotten here sooner. Luckily, the exorcist has gone. Likely to chase down some other damned soul like an animal, she thought bitterly. Skidding to a stop, she dropped to her knees at your side.

You were in a bad state, disheveled, bruised, bloodied. The worst of it appeared to be a rather large stab wound just above your hip, likely from some sort of spear.

But you were still breathing, nonetheless. You could still be saved. Hope bloomed in Carmilla's chest, as she pushed aside your blouse to better reveal the worst of your injuries.

"Girls," Carmilla called out once she was sure that it was safe for them to follow.

As she checked you for other injuries her daughters knelt by her side.

"Mother, here." Clara sounded as frantic as Carmilla felt. The overlord briefly turned to her daughter, surprised to find her taking off her coat to offer her. "To apply pressure," her daughter clarified. Her heart swelled at the action, accepting the coat and pressing it to your wound.

"Look!" Odette called out, and out of the corner of her eye, Carmilla saw her pointing to the sky. "The angels are retreating!"

"She's right!" Clara chimed in, placing a hand on her mother's shoulder, "We should get her back home, then we can tend to the wound properly."

Carmilla had never felt prouder of her daughters, they truly had grown into exceptional young women. She made a mental note to properly thank the both of them once things had settled.

But home was too far away, they would never make it there before you bled out. Lady luck was on your side as the four of you hadn't been too far from one of their safe houses, however, they needed to move quickly before you lost too much blood.

The next hour and a half were a blur. The moment they had unlocked the door to the safe house the Carmines got to work

Your wounds were cleaned and dressed. Carmilla herself had been the one to wash off the blood and dirt that caked your skin and you were laid up in bed. Odette and Clara had left once they were sure you would recover, choosing to give you and their mother space.

The arms dealer couldn't help feeling partially responsible. She thought if only she had been more diligent, and kept you close to her, maybe you wouldn't be left in such a state. The realization hit her, hard. She could have lost you.

"Carmilla?" your voice pulled the overlord from her thoughts. You were awake! In an instant she was by your side, taking your hand in hers.

"It's okay darling, Everything is alright now." You don't answer, at least not with your words. instead, with a grateful smile turning up the corners of your lips, you gave her hand a gentle squeeze. She couldn't help but return the smile, relieved. Leaning down, she pressed a kiss to your temple.

"Funny, for a moment there, I thought I'd somehow made it to heaven. Mistook you for an angel," you managed out a strained laugh, though you immediately regretted it when a sharp pain shot through your lower abdomen. Your smile returned, however, as Carmilla couldn't help but roll her eyes. But you had met your mark, the arms dealer finally let the tension leave her body.

"Mi amore."

"Yes, Carmilla?" You at first thought that the arms dealer was going to scold you for making light of the situation. You never would have expected the next words out of her mouth. She breathed out, gaze softening, her request was barely above a whisper.

"Marry me."

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin headcanons #hazbin imagine #carmilla carmine x reader #carmilla x reader #carmilla carmine

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tmntxthings · 7 months

Note

Hey, I hope this request motivates you a bit! I was wondering if you could do little scenarios with the Rise boys reacting to accidentally hitting their S/O while they stretched?

You know that thing that happens when you're standing too close to someone and they move or do something and end up hitting you in the face, it happened to me at college sobs 😭

Have a lovely day! <3

一∑ Accidents Happen・゜・。

author’s note: sksksks sure sure, I wanna say this has happened to me too but I can’t recall a specific scenario which makes me think it has happened just I’ve obliterated it from my memory out of embarrassment?!?

note 2.0: so I did Raph’s first, forever ago and a bit of Leo’s then just now I did Donnie’s and Mikey’s, everyone’s is a bit different and it’s like 3am idk how to feel! BUT WE POST ANYWAYS

warnings: cursing, injuries caused by accident, attempts at humor, crack, fluff, unedited

—————————————————————————

Raph was super excited to help you learn self-defense! It was a great skill to have. Just in case ya know! Plus it would make you feel more confident too.

“First things first! We gotta loosen up, I usually start with arm stretches.” Raph said with a toothy grin. He couldn’t stop smiling. He loved being able to hang out with you, but you had asked him personally to train you for self defense. Not any of his brothers! He was honored and didn’t want to mess up!

Raph then grabbed his left elbow and started to pull it, making the muscles there taunt. You immediately started to copy him. Asking if your form was right which had Raph moving closer and correcting you just slightly. “Just like that! Now other side!” And when Raph went through with the motion of doing his other arm, it was too late.

The smack resounded throughout the weight room and if things couldn’t be anymore horrible, because of his stature, he had quite literally smacked your face.

Stunned you held your cheek. It stung. And Raph was a ball of tears instantly. “Oh— Y/n!!!! Are you okay??? I’m so sorry!!! I didn’t mean to, I should’ve backed up!! I got too close and— Raph’s so so sorry.” He was on his knees in front of you. Telling you to smack his face in return. And you just laughed, saying that it was okay.

“Once I learn these self defense moves you won’t be able to land a hit like that again!” You joked.

Raph could only whimper. He felt horrible. He was a horrible teacher! And it took some convincing from you to get the ball rolling again. He sniffled here and there because he just couldn’t get it out of his mind. He was hard on himself for sure. Even though it was an accident he wouldn’t forgive himself!!

Leo was prone to doing weird shit randomly. Like striking a pose anywhere, anytime he saw fit. So while sure I could totally come up with a prompt for stretching like I did with Raph…but in my head…more realistically… it would be because Leo was up to his regular shenanigans again!

He had texted you not that long ago that he was planning on portal-ing over! It was a common occurrence, it made for traveling back and forth to the lair fast. If only the side effects wouldn’t hit you like that one ride at the fair, the Spaceship 9000?? The one that spins, and spins, and spins so fast that the piece of metal your buckled into moves up and down??? Right?? I’ve only went on it once so this is like a very bad descriptor but hopefully someone knows what the heck I’m talking about.

Going through a Leo portal was like that. The feeling of getting spun around so much that your stomach didn’t feel like it was in your body anymore. More like it was splattered all over the ground. Or three miles back in the direction from which you came. You wondered absentmindedly if all portals were like that. Or if that was just because of Leo?

Anyhow, it had been a while since he had sent you that message. You were used to him coming instantly after sending the message. Really not even giving you enough time to read the damn text! You sighed and got up from your bed and headed to the living room where he would be portal-ing in. But instead of going to the couch, you wanted to try and guess where the fool would land. Maybe closer to the actual door, as if he had used it to begin with?

It was while you were thinking, that a blue portal opened above head not but mere inches to the left of you. There had been no whirring or whizzing noises. No “Geronimo!!” Or “Heads up!” call outs. It was ninja silent stealth mode at which Leo came in. Eyes closed, and once he was through, only then did he holler, “And he sticks the landi—“

A loud thwack could be heard as one of his hands collided into you as he did a ridiculous windmill motion with his arms to steady himself. And it hurt like hell where he had slapped your arm. “Shiiiiiiiiiiiittttt!” The force had knocked you a little ways away too! As you held your arm where it stung and closed your eyes to not start crying, and then your mouth to not start yelling.

“Y/n???” Leo opened his eyes and shook the hand that had hit your arm. “My bad! You’re usually in your room when I come, and I just— I don’t know!” He rambled, a nervous smile on his face as he watched you close up.

Silence. Breathing. That was all that could be heard. Leo started feeling really guilty. He hadn’t been holding back his strength because he was an idiot and didn’t know you were there. “I’m really sorry..” he murmured. Not coming in close because he didn’t want to anger you further.

“It’s..cool!” You shook your arm, eyes opening and god damn it they were watery. “Oh no it’s not. Let me get you some ice. Fuck. I’m really really sorry.” Leo springs into action at the sight of your unshed tears. “I know you didn’t do it on purpose.” You tried to console him but didn’t deny the need for ice. Relief was felt when the ice pack met your skin. “Still wanna come over?” He asked timidly, wondering if he had ruined today in general too. “Duh, I’m going to be fine Leo! How about we stop for ice cream, on you and then it’s all even mkay?”

Because you knew if you didn’t say this then he would just continue to hold onto the guilt despite all your words and reassurances. “One waffle cone coming up!!” Leo cheered, his dramatics back on as he twirled a sword to make another flashy portal, you could only hope you would survive the journey.

Donnie has a stick. “Technically Y/n, it’s a bo. Bo staff. Not a stick.” Your eyes narrowed in on his weapon of choice. “Looks like a metal stick to me.” You told him plainly. He huffed. He knew that his weapon wasn’t always the one to wow people away. It wasn’t flashy like some people *cough* *cough* leo *cough*. “Okay I lied, it’s not just a bo, it’s a tech bo!” Donnie emphasized, spinning the said weapon around between his fingers before making it land on the ground vertically. Before you could question further he clicked a very inconspicuous spot on the bo, which was basically a finger-print reader that took half a millisecond to expand out and show off a variety of other weapons attached to his bo.

A saw, a drill, and the list could go on but those were the main two you recognized before it contracted back into stick form as you liked to call it. “Nice,” you nodded, giving Donnie his props where they were due, because it was pretty cool. It was like a multi-tool. You said that aloud too.

“Yeah but way better cause I made it.” Donnie amended because he couldn’t allow himself to be compared to such everyday items. He was better. Much better.

You opened your palm out, “can I try?” Insinuating you wanted a go at holding his stick. Well, his tech bo. But he made you spell it out for him. “Try what exactly?” He asked, right eyebrow raising. “Holding the stick” “It’s not a stick.” “Okay okay, can I try to hold the tech stick?” “Maybe, if you say it properly and also realize that you are most definitely going to hurt yourself with my tech bo.”

You made a face at that. “I most certainly am not!” You retorted and made a grab for the tEcH bO. It was out of your reach before you could even get close. And this game of keep away continued until you, asked with a “pretty please can I hold your almighty tech bo!?” Donnie was satisfied, clearly, with a smug look on his face as he allowed you to snatch it away from his hold. Finally.

You turned it around in your hands. Making slow circles. Donnie immediately trying to coach you on a better method, “Your feet aren’t in the right position~!” He chirped happily, as if correcting you was an absolute pleasure. He continued to badger you, despite your genuine efforts to improve. And at one point it all became too much, like he was being haughty. Holding it over your head that you weren’t catching on quickly.

“I get it Donnie! I suck!” You yelled and brought the metal bo down sharply. Right on your toes. You did have socks on. But the thin material did nothing to prevent the instant pain that had you crumpling down, bo falling out of your hand to instead cradle your injured foot.

It was embarrassing. The loud clatter of the bo hitting the ground, the rush of Donnie coming in close, kneeling to try and analyze the damage. You were so angry and so embarrassed that despite the pain, you pushed him away. Sniffling and whimpering, “Leave me alone!” You cried. And yep you were crying. Rocking back and forth now on your butt in an attempt to somehow ease the pain that was flowing from your toes, through your foot, all the way up to your ankle. Had you broken something?!?

Of course you hadn’t pushed him far, nor hard enough to knock him down. But he felt horrible. He felt like he was the reason this had all happened in the first place. Egging you on and messing with your head, truly being a bit of a jerk. “Just let me look please? It may be broken Y/n, it’s..high grade titanium…” he muttered the last bit because he was in no way trying to show that off in this moment. And the look in your eyes when you finally met his concerned stare was heartbreaking. He saw how red and puffy they were from the agitated tears, your cheeks ruddy as well. “Please?” He tried again. Coming in close hands up and out as a show of meaning no harm.

Slowly, your hand came away from your own toes, and Donnie peeled off your sock and assessed the injury. Light touches here and there and profusely apologized when you hissed in pain. “It’s not broken! Just bruised, pretty badly, I’ll go get some ice and then some wraps, just stay right there, don’t move!” And he was off moving swiftly as went in search for the items he required.

He gave you the ice, letting you decide how much pressure to put on the wound, and he stayed silent as he got out a few different wraps. As your tears dried and the sniffling ceased, you noticed how serious Donnie looked. When he came back down to kneel by your foot, he decided to checkup the entire area. “What about this, does this hurt?” He asked pressing lightly on a different part on the top of your foot. “Not really, it’s all getting kind of numb now,” the ice was doing its magic. He nodded, chewing on his lower lip. “I think I should wrap it now,” he said but made no move to start until you gave him the go ahead.

He was very careful. Taking all the time in the world to make sure the wrapping was perfect. When he finished he sighed, and looked up at you sincerely, “I’m sorry for being such an ass… you were doing really well but I just kept..” he sighed again shaking his head as it dropped. Looking back down at your wrapped foot. “Dee.. we like to get in each other’s nerves, you just did a really great job this time around,” you admitted with a slight laugh. But he only smiled weakly, still feeling so guilty. You huffed and shoved at his shoulder lightly, “hey, honestly I think it was your bo getting back at me for calling it a stick so many times!”

He couldn’t help but smile at that one. If only a little. “How about this? You grovel for the rest of the day, andddd order my favorite pizza?” He was quiet, thinking. “How about I just get the pizza?” Finally looking up and looking a bit better, “I don’t knowwww…” and the two of you were going back and forth once more, laughing it off.

Mikey, bless his heart, was having a fabulous time when it came to your yoga sessions. You had gotten into it and dragged the brothers into your new hobby. But the only brother who truly stuck with it was Mikey. Of course this should’ve been a no brainer, what with his acrobatic skills when it came to soaring into the air, from building to building.

So it wasn’t odd that the two of you were together in the gym alone at the lair. Sometimes he’d come over to your flat and the two of you would yoga in the only big room you had (the living room). But most times it was more convenient to do it in a space that was created with exercise in mind. After getting nice and warmed up, talking about each others day and updating one another on any tea it was time to get down to business.

“What’s on the roster today??” Mikey asked already bouncing lightly back and forth. Pumped to do anything when it came to hanging out with you. “Ahhh let’s see!” All the gossip had left your brain clueless to the new yoga you had learned recently so you needed to open up your phone and check your notes really quickly.

Mikey (ever the busybody) came in close, going up on his tippy toes to peer at your screen. Your elbow went out playfully, hitting him in the side plastron. He feigned injury, staggering back clutching where you had touched. “Betrayal!” He fake coughed. “And I thought Leo was the dramatic one!” You teased further.

At this both hands moved to cover his heart. “Take that back!!” He gasped though he could hardly hide his pleased smile. “And if I don’t??” You countered, forgetting about the phone as the screen turned black under inactivity. “Then I’ll make you!” Mikey’s face turned downright villainous (as much as a cutie patootie can), hands up and fingers at the ready to tickle you into submission.

Immediately you were fleeing. You were no stranger to Mikey’s tickling in fact the last time you had been caught in his clutches you were begging for mercy. You almost gave in right then and there at the memory but you couldn’t help but think that maybe this time you could get away.

Fool. What a foolish thought.

You were a yoga hobbyist. Mikey was a fucking ninja! The odds would never be in your favor, but he did let you think you had a chance. Letting you run around in their home gym, getting by with barely a fingertips distance away. You were breathless by the time he caught you which only worsened when he started tickling at your sides and neck.

He had you trapped, he was on top of you, between your legs, hands moving fast and causing you to laugh out of control. Almost as if it had a mind of its own, your leg jumped out and tried to slam into Mikey’s side to free yourself from further torture. But he had actually bent down lower making the trajectory straight for his head. It must’ve been ninja instincts because he caught your leg easily in a tight grasp.

“Mercy!” You called out breathlessly. To which he clicked his tongue, letting go of your leg to go back to tickling. That obviously hadn’t been what he wanted to hear. “Okay okay! I take it back!” You pleaded, batting away his hands quickly. To which he continued to try and get past until he moved way too fast for you, smacking your chin accidentally when he had been aiming to just tickle your neck.

Time force. As the sound resounded, with your punctuating “Ow!” Mikey froze. Hands still, pupils shaking as it replayed in his mind. He had hit you. Accidentally of course. But. He had hit you. You were still in pain, recovering from the shock and rubbing your sore chin. While he was receding into his shell, his hands moving back into himself as he apologized. “I-I’m so sorry! I didn’t mean to! I don’t know what, it was just so fast, I’m sorry!!” He was blubbering, by the time you opened your eyes to see how much this had hurt him too.

“Angie! I know! Hey, we were just roughhousing! It got out of hand, it’s okay! I know you didn’t mean it. It was an accident!” And he clung to that word. “It really was an accident. An accident. I’m so sorry. What should I do? Lemme see!” His hands moved suddenly to touch your chin but it was like the sight of his own hands getting close to you made him fearful. He retracted once more, squeezing them into fists and putting them to his chest as he moved to get off of you. To give you space.

“Mikey!” You chastised, getting up and following after him. You grabbed his hands, holding them. “Hey hey, it’s okay! Look I’m not afraid of them and neither should you. It was an accident Mikey, plus I’m already feeling better.” Slowly his fists unfurled and you brought his hands up to your face, positioning them to cup your face. He looked up, with a watery smile. “I’m really sorry,” he said one more time. “I know,” you smiled down at him. “It’s okay!” You made sure to say. And he nodded, relaxing a bit as a shaky breath went through his body before his hands held onto you more securely. Rubbing his fingers back and forth soothingly.

Then he moved back, only to jump and tackle you into a crushing hug. “Yoga?” He asked while digging his head into your neck. “Yoga!” You agreed, and he held onto you like a monkey for a bit before clambering off to return to his mat. “Alright alright, position number one!”

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tommysversion · 1 year

Text

That’s My Girl - [ Joel Miller x Reader 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️ ]

Anon requested jealous, possessive Joel with a filthy mouth, so here you are! General CW for spice, unsafe sex, Joel with a filthy mouth, & a slightly red flag possessive streak.

Joel slammed the door behind you, expression mutinously annoyed as he crossed his arms and turned to you.

“What the fuck was that back there?” He demanded.

You had to resist the urge to smirk; if you weren’t so annoyed yourself, you’d feel smug about pissing him off. Joel liked to pretend he didn’t give a rat’s ass about you, but it was obvious that you were more than… whatever he thought you were. A quick fuck. Something casual. There was nothing casual about the way he’d grabbed your hand and practically dragged you out of the bar.

“What was what?” You asked sweetly, enjoying the way his eyes darkened.

“You know damn well what.” He glared, “letting that random fucking informant buy you drinks.”

“Maybe I like free booze?” You suggested, innocent. Oh, you knew exactly what you were doing.

“Not enough to let someone like that put their hands on you, surely?”

Your own temper flared. “What’s it to you, Joel? I’m not your goddamn property. Besides, you can’t lecture me on exclusivity when-“

You stopped, still angry, still hurt, by what you had seen. By what had driven you to provoke him, to try and draw out his jealous side in blatant vengeance.

“When what?” He demanded, exasperated. Honestly he had no damn clue what had possibly driven you to act the way you had, flirting with anyone and everyone. You were his, dammit. Nobody else should be able to hold your attention. Nobody else was worthy of it.

You were so angry at the memory, you wanted to cry.

“When I show up at your place looking for you and Tess answers the door wearing your fucking shirt and says you’re busy.” You snapped, glaring at him. “You don’t get to demand I don’t look for attention elsewhere when you’re clearly more than happy to fuck both of us.”

He stared at you. He hadn’t been home at the time, had been at work. He knew which shirt you were referring to, though. It was an old one he’d given her on a laundry day, almost a year ago.

“That… is not what’s happening here.” He said flatly.

“No? You think I’m stupid?” You demanded. Honestly if he wasn’t so worried about fixing this, wasn’t so pissed about you letting that fucking rat touch you, he’d almost find this funny.

“I haven’t been with Tess like that for… Fuck, almost five years.” He shook his head, “that shirt was too small for me, I handed it down on a laundry day when she had nothing clean. And I was at work, by the way.”

You cut your building tirade, mouth open but nothing coming out, feeling monumentally stupid.

“Oh.” You manage, knowing full well how lame you sound.

“Yeah, oh.” He frowned at you, “you know better than to let her rile you up.”

He was already making a note of talking to Tess, though. He’d have a few choice words for her, that was for damn sure. But that wasn’t his focus.

“Now we’ve cleared that up, you wanna tell me again why you were getting so cosy with our good friend the local rat, there?” He backed you right up against the wall, one arm on either side of you, effectively trapping you there.

“I-“ You had absolutely no good answer for him.

“I’m gonna take a guess,” he suggested, “that you thought it would be a good idea to piss me off, by acting like a complete slut.”

“No, I-“

“No? You weren’t? Cause that’s not what it looked like to me, baby.”

You could feel the heat coming from him; in a very short sentence: you’d fucked up. Big time.

“I just-“

“I don’t care what your damn reason was, honestly. But I have a suggestion for you.” He was leaning in close now, mouth so close to yours. You leaned in, wanting so badly to kiss him. He turned his head at the last minute.

“You want to put that mouth to use? Get on your knees and show me.”

Fuck, he was mad. You were only starting to realise just how far you’d pushed him now, but there was no going back, and no hiding the thrill you were getting from it as you dropped to your knees to obey him, hands going to his belt.

“Not making a case for yourself here, are you darlin’?” There was a sort of wry amusement to his voice as you unzipped his jeans, wrapped your hand around his already hard length.

He kept one hand on the wall, the other reaching down to stroke your hair.

“Be a good girl now and I might be less mad.”

You looked up at him, staring into those depthless dark eyes, as you leaned in to lick a slow stripe along his cock, watching his reaction before you took him into your mouth. You didn’t hold back, sucking him eagerly.

“This what you were gonna do to that other bastard? Or am I special?” He was taunting you, he knew deep down you’d never have let anyone else touch you, but fuck, he was angry about it. You were his. His. Nobody else got to touch you. Even thinking about it made him see red.

You, of course, couldn’t answer, mouth otherwise occupied as he started to thrust shallowly into your throat. He groaned softly when you sucked him, swallowing around him. He knew exactly what you were doing, pulled out of your mouth and tapped you sharply on the lips with his cock.

“Not yet. Get up.”

You got up, a little shaky, only to find yourself pinned against the wall, your dress being pushed up around your hips.

“Tell me, is this what you’d let anyone else do to you?”

“N-no,” you admitted, voice shaking with a little fear, a lot of desire.

“No? Are you sure?” His lips grazed your throat, teeth nipping the skin.

“I’m sure…” you were absolutely soaked; you could feel your own wetness drenching your panties as he dragged them aside, wrapped your leg around his waist.

“Good.” He almost growled it, “you’re mine.”

He slid into you in a single, deep, rough thrust, drawing a cry of surprised pleasure from your lips.

“I don’t give a damn if you want to be a whore, as long as it’s only for me.” He kept one hand wrapped around you to steady you, keeping you braced against the wall with his other hand as he fucked you, harder and faster with each deep thrust.

“Fuck-“ you whimpered, tightening your leg around his waist, bringing him in deeper.

“None of that.” He slapped your ass sharply, “talk to me, baby, use your words. Tell me who you belong to.”

He was barely thinking straight himself, driven by a deep and primal feeling of jealousy, rage, and possessiveness. You brought out the best in him, but that was a double edged sword. You could also bring out the worst, when needed.

Luckily, you understood, knew how to play him.

“You, Joel,” you cried out as he hit your sweet spot, again and again, “I’m yours, I promise!”

Your cries faded into incoherence, loud and desperate sounds of pleasure as he brought you closer and closer, finally reaching the apex of your pleasure, tightening around him, soaking every inch of him that was buried inside you.

“That’s goddamn right,” he agreed, pressing a searing kiss to your mouth, “you’re all mine, darlin’, don’t ever forget that.”

He could feel his own pace start to get erratic as he drew closer and closer to his own release, incoherent growls and groans falling from his lips.

“Fuck, darlin’, you feel so fuckin’ good, prettiest damn pussy I ever felt, gonna fill you up so good…” he punctuated each word with a sharp snap of his hips, “gonna make you forget anyone else you ever had… fuck…”

He couldn’t control it any longer, feeling himself throb and ache inside you as he filled you with his release; usually he was so careful about pulling out of you, but well… accidents happen. And if that accident so happened to keep you around and with him? All the better for it.

“Mine, darling. You’re all mine.” He murmured into your ear, holding you close.

You sighed, kissed his throat.

“I’m sorry…” you admitted; you’d pushed him too far, and you knew it.

He gave you a small smirk. “Don’t be sorry, baby. You more than made up for it.” He paused, and then, “just don’t do that shit again.”

You smiled back, rested your forehead against his.

“I won’t. Promise.”

He kissed your lips gently. “That’s my girl.”

#my writing #Joel Miller #Joel Miller smut #Joel Miller x Reader #Joel Miller x You #joel miller fanfiction #tlou smut #Pedro Pascal #tlou fanfiction

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stardustvanfleet · 8 months

Text

Backstage Baby (Jake Kiszka x Groupie!Reader)

SMUT. 18+ ONLY! MDNI!!!!!

PAIRING: Jake Kiszka x F!Reader

WORDS: 4k

WARNINGS: Dom!Jake. BASICALLY PWP. rough unprotected sex, edging, daddy kink, light choking (blink and you’ll miss it), mix of praise and degradation, nicknames (baby, princess, good girl, slut), my obsession with jake’s silver medallion, ending with flirtatious fluffy aftercare.

A/N: i’ve been writing band rpf for years, but this is my first gvf fic! ever since seeing them in boston on 9/15, i have literally been walking around in a daze, daydreaming about going backstage with jake……. and this is the result lmfao. title inspired by B-Side Baby by Adam Ant. i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss ideas with….. and also just cry and lose my mind with LMAO. anyway— i hope you enjoy! XO, li

••••••••••••••••••••

No matter how many times you saw Jake up there, he still made you breathless.

That furrowed concentration on his brow as his expert fingers flew across the strings… his hair falling across his shoulders… the way he would rock and grind against his guitar, glowing under the lights as sweat dripped down his forehead, his chest bare and slick from perspiration…

You didn’t really ever plan on becoming a groupie. The effect that Jake had on you had been intense enough long before you started following Greta Van Fleet around the country, before you’d even once thought you’d ever be in a room with him smaller than a stadium. But you hadn’t expected anything like the way things had actually gone. They had always said real life was stranger than fiction, but you had never thought its twists and turns could be this earth-shattering.

It had started with the eye contact. The first few times it happened, you couldn’t be sure if you were imagining things, your head perhaps fuzzy from the thrill of numerous front-row nights in a row… but when Jake crouched down and leaned towards you mid-solo, his eyes meeting yours with a jolt of electricity, a wicked smirk on his face, you realized with a heart-stopping shudder that no, you hadn’t been imagining his eyes on you.

Those looks would intensify as the tour continued. He’d always somehow find you in the front row, letting his cool and confident gaze rest on you as he played, just long enough to leave you squeezing your thighs together involuntarily. One night, you had been approached by a stagehand, who simply passed you a note with directions to an afterparty, and even though the note had no signature, something deep down told you exactly who it had been from.

That was your first night with Jake, and you had left the next morning with aching legs that felt like jelly. Since then, every night had been fucking cinematic.

Tonight was no exception. It had been damn near impossible to take your eyes off of Jake before you’d even had any opportunity to speak to him, but now, knowing exactly what he was able to do to your body, how fucking incredible he could make you feel… seeing him like that onstage made you positively throb throughout the show, taking all of your energy just to keep your composure.

As the concert winded down, you slipped out of the pit up front, making your way to the backstage entrance. The security guards, who recognized you by now— still an odd feeling — let you in. You headed towards where you now knew the band would be coming down once they left the stage, your heart already pounding with anticipation, heat already beginning to pool between your thighs. You took a deep breath, tugging on the hem of your top, which you had intentionally chosen due to its short length: you loved the way it highlighted the curves of your waist and hips, and hoped Jake would too.

And, as always, once they emerged, it seemed as though everything was happening at once– pulling out earpieces, handing off instruments and passing equipment along – but your eyes were only on Jake, and, you realized with a shudder that wracked your entire body, his were on you.

Once his guitar had been handed off, Jake wasted no time in heading right towards you, grabbing your wrist, and leading you down the hall. He didn’t need to say anything; you knew exactly where he was taking you, and you instantly felt a wave of overwhelming desire wash over your every inch. It was truly absurd how little he had to do to turn you on.

He pulled you into his dressing room, and immediately pushed your back up against the closing door. Jake’s large hands pinned your shoulders against it, a soft clicking sound occurring as the door locked automatically. His lips collided sloppily with yours, kissing you with a hunger that sent your head spinning, sparks of heat igniting deep within your core.

When he finally pulled back, grazing your bottom lip with his teeth as he did so, a shiver went down your spine, and it took you far longer than intended to regain composure and open your eyes. When you did, his heavy-lidded dark eyes were on you, pupils blown wide with desire. The dominance behind his expression was enough to cause an involuntary whimper to escape you, the sound of which brought out a smirk that tugged at the corner of his mouth.

“So needy today… What a dirty girl,” he said, his tone dripping with authority, making your knees immediately weaken. His eyes never left yours as he continued teasing, knowing by now what it did to you. He leaned in, making sure you got his next few words right in your ear. “You wanna get fucked tonight? Hm?” His voice was low and seductive, leaving one hand on your shoulder to keep you pinned to the wall, while his other one stroked first down your arm, then back up, your skin lighting up under his touch. As his body pressed up against yours, you could feel him, rock-hard and throbbing against your thigh, the sensation almost overwhelming as you found yourself nodding your head as hard as you could, already difficult to find the words.

That wasn’t enough, though, not for Jake. The hand that had been stroking up and down your bare arms moved abruptly to your jaw, holding it firmly in place so his gaze was locked on yours. “I asked you a question, princess.” Your lower lip trembled desperately as Jake tilted his head ever so slightly, his expression and tone just the right amount of patronizing as his hips began to roll at a slow but steady pace against you, breathing out, “You want this cock?”

“Yes, fuck,” you managed, already feeling lightheaded at just his words and close proximity.

“There you go,” he chuckled condescendingly at the sound of you using your words for the first time. He continued to rock up against your thigh, letting the hand on your jaw slide to your throat, but not lingering there too long, not giving you yet what he knew you wanted— just staying long enough to drag his long fingers down the sensitive skin of your neck, as if examining every inch of you. What a fucking tease.

“Jake, please,” you found yourself begging, taking your free hand and gripping the lapel of his black jacket— all he was wearing over his tanned, sweaty torso, which had been making your head spin all night— “I’m so fucking hot for you. So fucking wet for you. I want you so bad, please…”

The sound of your desperation made a low sound somewhere between a chuckle and a growl rumble in Jake’s throat, and if your panties weren’t soaked through already, that alone would have been enough to get you there.

Your begging had satisfied him, for now. Jake finally released his grip, freeing you from your position pinned up against the door, only to lead you over to the white leather couch in the corner of the room. Before having you sit, however, there were two things that needed to be done. First of all, he shrugged his black jacket off from his shoulders, throwing it to the floor behind him, leaving him standing before you in nothing but those sinfully tight pants and that silver necklace that drove you wild. Through your lightheadedness, you could tell how horny he was, too— his pants left almost nothing to the imagination, and the sight of the achingly large bulge straining against the tight black fabric was making your head swim, to say nothing of the heat between your thighs.

That was when he lowered himself just enough that his lips were in line with the top button of your jeans, and you felt all breath leave your body as he looked wickedly up at you. Going slowly enough to make you squirm, but not so slowly that you’d protest, Jake unzipped your bell bottoms. His gaze never left yours as he pulled them down your legs, revealing inch after inch of your skin to him, his tongue flicking out across his own bottom lip hungrily as he watched himself undress you— this gorgeous present, all his to unwrap.

As you had anticipated, your light pink panties were so soaked they had been rendered essentially useless as a means of covering you up, and the feeling of Jake’s eyes devouring the sight of your pussy through them were only making you wetter.

“Oh, fuck,” he breathed out, his eyes glancing up to meet yours for a moment before looking right back down at the burning heat between your legs. After a second or two of him just looking intently— as if committing the sight to memory— he spoke, saying, “Drives me fucking crazy…” as one of his hands found its way to the inside of your calf, stroking slowly up, further and further, “...how fucking wet you get for me, before I’ve even touched you. Goddamn.”

“Jake, please,” you begged again, your voice cracking a bit as you spread your legs to give him easier access to your inner thigh, his long fingers stroking and massaging you only centimeters from where you needed his touch the most. “I need your fingers… I need them… please.”

Your final “please” had such an undertone of neediness, desperation, it must’ve been exactly what Jake had been looking for-– and immediately, your eyes rolled back into your head as his long middle finger began to stroke deliciously up and down your clothed slit. He started at your entrance to gather your wetness through your panties, then slid upwards and flattened his fingertip out, letting the pad of the digit trace tight circles over your throbbing clit. Immediately upon the contact with your sensitive bundle of nerves, you cried out, clapping a hand over your own mouth as you, in a cloud of arousal, watched Jake play with your pussy from his position between your legs, his eyes never leaving yours as he kept up his steady, rhythmic circular motions.

Time seemed to stop for what could have been seconds or minutes as Jake massaged your clit and teased your entrance through your dripping panties, and it was only when your eyes were watering and whimpers were falling from your lips that he pulled his hand back, the loss of contact making you let out an involuntary whine.

But once his fingers hooked around the waistband of your panties, you realized he wasn’t teasing any longer— he was escalating. The thought made you shudder as he tugged the soaked scrap of fabric down your legs, Jake’s face flushed with heat, that gorgeous hair of his falling across his shoulders and sticking to his forehead.

Once your panties were off, he tossed them to the side, standing up and leaving you trembling on the leather couch as his hands moved down to his own waistband, his eyes meeting yours and his tongue once again swiping across his bottom lip hungrily. You couldn’t take your eyes off of him as he moved to pull his pants down— which, at this point, were pornographically tight— and, Jesus Christ, he looked angelic as they came off. His skin was glowing with sweat, and warm light from the dressing room’s lamps was glinting off the silver medallion around his neck. When he took his cock out, you let out yet another involuntary whimper.

Hard and thick, the tip already glistening with his arousal, just the sight of it made your mouth water. He wrapped his hand around his length, beginning to pump it up and down just slightly as he lowered himself onto the couch next to you, watching with blown-out pupils as you pulled your crop top over your head, revealing to Jake that you hadn’t worn a bra underneath it, your tits bouncing free. The realization made him growl under his breath between strokes of his cock, groaning, “Fuck… you do that for me?” Your nod made him groan all over again, rasping out, “Mmmm… you’re such a dirty girl… C’mere.”

The simple command was all you needed, giving into your desire and practically pushing yourself against his slick, toned body. The feeling of his hot skin against yours alone made you moan out loud as Jake’s hands found your hips, pulling you into his lap. Once you were straddling him, you were so close to his cock that you felt entirely lightheaded, knowing that if you rocked forward, your clit would get the most incredible friction rubbing up against his length…

But you didn’t have to do anything yourself. Before you could organize your thoughts, Jake was kissing you again, messy and filthy, his tongue and teeth everywhere, his mouth moving sloppily from your lips to your neck and back again, and suddenly you hadn’t any thoughts left at all beyond Jake, his hands, his body, and the feeling of his cold silver medallion pressing up against the skin of your breasts— grazing your nipple, making you gasp into his mouth, eliciting a dark chuckle form the man beneath you.

One of his hands took yours and guided it to his cock, and when your fingers wrapped around the velvety skin of his length the both of you shuddered in unison. Jake’s mouth immediately dropped open from the pleasure, murmuring another, “Fuck, princess,” his other hand slipping between your legs to start toying with your clit again. It didn’t take long for your legs to start to tremble. You were aching for him to fill you up.

You both worked each other like this for a minute or two, eyes growing more half-lidded and cheeks flushing ever pinker as you built up to the main event. Finally, after what seemed an achingly long time, Jake finally spoke, words coming in between his heavy panting that was making your whole body tremble.

“You want it, baby? You want this cock right now? You want Daddy to fuck you like the cute little slut you are?”

You moaned so desperately you hardly recognized your own voice. He always knew exactly when to bring things up a notch, and how. You were nodding your head before you could even speak, finally finding the words to beg, “Please, Daddy. I need it, I need your cock,” staring at him with lust-blown doe eyes.

Jake let out a true growl this time, and sat back further, spreading his legs wide, his cock thick and hard and waiting, your wetness all over his thigh from where you had been straddling him. When he spoke again, his voice was low and authoritative. “Then sit on this fucking dick.”

The sound that left your lips in response to his words was something beyond desperation. With trembling thighs, you positioned yourself over Jake as he gave his cock another couple strokes, lining himself up at your entrance, and saying lowly, hotly, “Look at me.”

You obliged without even having to think, and with your eyes on each other, taking in every little change in expression, you started lowering yourself onto him. Slowly but surely, you felt every single inch of his hard cock stretching you out, and as you took all of him as deep as possible, you made sure to keep your eyes right on his as your mouth fell open. He loved to see what he was doing to you.

He only waited a moment, giving you enough time to grab onto his shoulders for leverage, but not enough time to catch your breath, before his hands found your hips. His fingernails dug into your skin, something sexy, dangerous, and dark in his eyes that you instantly recognized. Oh. There would be no working slowly into things tonight. Tonight, Jake was entirely in control.

Roughly, quickly, he lifted you by the hips, before pushing you right back down onto his cock, making you cry out in ecstasy. It was only a moment before he lifted you right back up again, then shoving you back down onto him, giving you no rest from the sudden and overwhelming pleasure. His sense of timing, perfected from years of playing guitar, was more obvious than ever as he started to build up a rhythm that was dizzying in its relentless repetition. The way he was filling you up felt so fucking good, and it only intensified when Jake began to fuck up into you while pressing you down onto him, getting deeper and deeper with every thrust. You couldn’t hold back anymore, starting to moan out his name as he fucked you.

“Fuck, that’s good,” Jake groaned out, beads of sweat dripping down his forehead onto his chest, “Such a good girl… taking my cock so fucking well. Goddamn. So fuckin’ filthy.”

“Fuck, fuck, thank you, Daddy,” you were moaning, broken sounds falling nonstop from your lips as Jake slammed his cock into you, but when your eyes threatened to roll back into your head, he once again took your jaw in his large hand, forcing your gaze to stay on his.

“I told you to keep your fucking eyes on me when I fuck you.”

You whimpered, biting your lip, Jake’s relentless pounding hitting you right where it felt the best, the angle at which he was fucking you giving him perfect access to your sweet spot.

“I’m sorry, Daddy, fuck, fuck, don’t stop!” you begged, the combination of his cock filling you up and that low, sexy voice of his right in your ear completely emptying your mind of any other thoughts besides how fucking good he was making you feel.

Jake was speeding up now, and it was getting harder and harder for you to keep your eyes on him with the pleasure building so intensely within you. You knew you were close, and his labored gasps and breathless growls made it clear that he wasn’t far behind.

“Fuck, baby… that perfect pussy… she’s gripping me so fuckin’ tight,” he was groaning against you, and you were nodding desperately and moaning out obscenities, tears forming in your eyes from the unyielding ecstasy. One of your arms was still around his shoulders, while the other had a white-knuckled grip on his silver necklace as you rolled your hips in time with his thrusts.

He must’ve been able to tell you were close by the way your thighs began to shake, the way your moans turned into desperate, tiny whimpers, because you didn’t even have to say a word before Jake sucked his pointer and middle fingers into his mouth, getting them nice and slick before lowering them to trace tight circles onto your clit.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

It was all so much; so deliciously overstimulating— Jake’s cock deep in your pussy, his fingers working your clit just right, his dark eyes looking at you so intently that even the act of him simply watching you as you fell apart felt so fantastically filthy and sinful.

“Does my little slut wanna cum?” Jake growled through gritted teeth, still thrusting up into you as he managed one of those patronizing smirks that drove you wild, “Not yet. Not until I say so.”

You let out a desperate whine, whimpering weakly, “Jake— fuck, please, Daddy.” Every word took all of your focus and energy to stammer out, with Jake surrounding what felt like every inch of your body, from his cock pumping in and out of you, to his fingers on your clit, and the heat of his skin against yours.

“Be a good girl now,” he continued between grunts, fucking you deep and hard, his lust-blown eyes never once leaving yours, “I’m gonna count down. Then… and only then… you cum on my fucking cock.”

You managed to make the only sound you could— a whimper that sounded so pathetic and slutty you hardly recognized your own voice. Trying to find words now would be hopeless. It was all so much. It felt so fucking good. Tears began to spill from your eyes as Jake’s thick cock slammed against your g-spot over and over again, in perfect time with his calloused fingers relentlessly circling your clit.

He chuckled condescendingly. You could tell— he knew you were too fucked out to answer him.

“Here we go, princess… five…”

You were trembling, moments away from the edge, utilizing every bit of energy you had left to hold off the orgasm that threatened to overtake you any second.

“Four… three…”

You could barely breathe. Every sensation, every feeling, was layered on top of one other. The pressure on your clit. Jake’s eyes, watching you unravel. The feeling of his cock swelling inside of you as he pounded into your cunt. His other hand still gripping your hip for leverage, surely leaving bruises in the shape of his fingerprints.

“Two…”

He leaned right in, giving you a look so fucking intense and hungry that you felt yourself go lightheaded, that heat building, building… so close, so fucking close… he just had to say…

“One. Cum for me. Fucking cum.”

The moment the command left his lips, it was all over. The white-hot coil within you snapped, and your body was overtaken with bliss, shaking uncontrollably as you clenched down onto him, the feeling of your release all around him making Jake groan out a pornographic, “Oh, fuck.”

He kept up his pace as he fucked you and worked your clit through your orgasm, repeatedly biting his lower lip in concentration as he groaned out, “That’s it, baby, give it to me, soak my fucking cock.” The pleasure was dizzying, damn near overwhelming, and through your haze it was impossible to tell for just how long he helped prolong your climax while chasing his own.

With a delicious moan and a string of obscenities, Jake pulled out of your cunt just in time, thrusting into his hand and covering your stomach in his cum. Even through your post-orgasmic haze, the sight of him cumming all over you was so incredibly filthy you found yourself whimpering all over again, watching him through glazed-over eyes as he rode out his high.

When you both finally collapsed onto each other, panting, covered in sweat and cum, Jake groaned out a breathless, “Holy fuck,” before taking his hand and running it through your hair. There was a tenderness in his gaze and a softness in his tone as he asked, “Are you okay, baby?”

You nodded, slowly but surely coming back down to Earth. When you managed a dazed grin, he chuckled a little, smirking affectionately. He leaned in to press a kiss to your lips— this one far more gentle, but no less passionate. When Jake pulled back, he breathed out, “That was so fucking hot, baby… goddamn. You’re something else.”

You felt a blush creep up in your cheeks as he stroked your hair, then your back, his tender touches grounding you as you caught your breath against his chest. It was only after a good long while, once the stickiness on your stomachs became too much to bear, that he helped you to your feet, your thighs already feeling a familiar ache, knees still wobbling a bit. By now, you had found your words, and you thanked him, giggling shyly despite yourself.

He wrapped a plush towel around you, cleaning you up as best as he could, grabbing another towel for himself. It was after this, though, that he spoke.

“Come back to the hotel with me tonight.”

His words took you by surprise. Yes, you’d been to his hotel rooms before— but generally, you’d head there in order to fuck, not after it already had taken place. He must’ve been able to read your expression, because he continued, “I wanna take care of you, baby. It’s the least I can do… there’s a jacuzzi, we can get a nice bath going for you… and there’s a king-sized bed…”

And… you were blushing again. Of course.

You chewed on your bottom lip with nervous excitement, your heart already starting to beat faster. “Jake… that sounds perfect.” He smiled at you, looking utterly radiant, and you felt butterflies in your stomach all over again as he put his arm around you. “C’mon, gorgeous… let’s get you some of my clothes to put on. I’ve got a sweatshirt in here somewhere…”

As you melted into his touch, you couldn’t help but smile to yourself. The night was only just beginning.

••••••••••••••••••••

A/N: thank you so so much for reading!! i would absolutely love to hear your thoughts either in the notes or through tumblr DMs. my ask box is always open for filthy thoughts, and i’m always looking for more gvf friends to discuss with 🥰 i’m also starting a taglist for any new fics i post, so be sure to let me know if you want to be added! XO, li

#jake kiszka #jake kiszka x reader #jake kiszka smut #greta van smut #greta van fleet fic #greta van fleet x reader #li speaks #my fanfics #when i tell you i accidentally stayed up until 3am TWO NIGHTS IN A ROW writing this…. i am not well. someone lock me up #writing tag

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roanniom · 2 years

Text

Attention

Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader

Summary: Eddie is cocky during a session of Hellfire and it makes you need him - now.

Word Count: 3k

Warnings: NSWF, 18+ ONLY, unprotected PIV sex, relatively dom!Eddie (Eddie is a lil mean to reader but it’s what reader wants from him and he knows that), dirty dirty DIRTY talk, tiny bit of orgasm denial, drug use. Don’t judge me if this makes no sense, I was high when I wrote it but Eddie would be proud.

Hellfire has been different since you and Eddie graduated high school. You’ve been taking classes at the Hawkins community college while he works at the local record shop, but your Thursday nights have been dedicated to keeping the D&D dream alive. You all have been meeting in Gareth’s basement now that the club is no longer school affiliated. But one thing that hasn’t changed is the effect Eddie has on you as dungeon master.

You sit in your seat across the table from him and watch him shout at the group from his throne. He voices every NPC intricately - with complicated accents and unique inflections. He flails his arms as he gesticulates. He pulls weird faces and jumps up as often as he sits down.

But most importantly, he’s the cockiest son of a bitch to ever live.

And when he engages with you, in particular, he’s sexy as sin.

“Care to roll a charisma check, princess?” he asks you after you attempt to question a particularly prickly guard.

“Not wisdom?” you ask sweetly, hopeful that you could roll for the ability for which you have a higher number.

“Don’t think I don’t know you’re flirting, baby. Got to make sure you’re convincing,” Eddie says lowly, gazing at you over steepled fingers. You frown and let out a huffed exhale.

“Dustin flirted with that barmaid and you didn’t make him roll for shit,” you point out while Dustin raises his hands beside you in a ‘why bring me into this’ pose.

“That’s because Henderson is shit at flirting. He didn’t need to roll to see if the barmaid was uncharmed, her panties solidified into a chastity belt of their own accord.”

“Hey!” Dustin defends weakly, though he doesn’t try to argue further. You narrow your eyes at Eddie across the table.

“You’re doing this because I’m the only one with tits at this table, aren’t you.”

All of the younger boys cringe and look away, groaning audibly. But Eddie doesn’t break eye contact with you. Instead his smirk grows.

“I’m doing this because you’re the only one with tits,” he agrees, cocking his head to the side as he lets his eyes drag down from your face to your body and back. “And because I know for damn certain you don’t have a chastity belt yourself.”

The other boys shout out Eddie’s name in alarm and reproach, but you barely hear them. You’re too distracted feeling blood rushing to your ears and other places with the insinuation. His eyes are dark and his voice is deep and he leans back in his chair comfortably. Legs spreading open a little wider on his throne - completely at his leisure as you find yourself squirming and beginning to sweat under his gaze.

“So I need you to show me what you can do, princess.”

~*~

An hour later and the session is over, with the party only narrowly escaping capture at the hands of the guards. But the success of the session is far from your mind as you rocket down the dark country road in the passenger seat of Eddie Munson’s van, poured all over his frame in the driver’s seat, kissing his neck and fondling his package even as his foot grows more leaden on the gas.

You’d rolled a natural 20, essentially eviscerating any concern that your flirting wasn’t charismatic enough. The boys had cheered and Eddie had waved towards you, unnervingly pleased by this roll which should have inconvenienced him, urging you to roleplay whatever flirting it was that would be worthy of a crit success.

You’d unbuttoned the top few buttons of your shirt, completely ignoring the gasps from the younger players. Leaning forward with eyes only for Eddie, you’d pulled your arms in close - demurely even - knowing that it pushed your tits closer together to create an eyeful of cleavage.

Eddie doesn’t even remember what you’d said, his hearing pretty much zonked out after that. But as rattled as he was, he kept his cool, allowing his smirk to simmer into something even darker. When it was clear you’d finished making your case, Eddie had roleplayed as a seduced guard, providing you and your friends with safe passage into the tomb beyond.

As a result of that success, however, Eddie had cracked down even harder on all of you for the rest of the session. He barked at Mike and refused to so much as bat an eye when Lucas begged for mercy after a shitty roll. More than once you caught him staring at you while other players completed the actions for their turns. When he was caught looking, he never shied away. Never broke the eye contact or tried to pretend like he hadn’t been looking.

Because he had been looking. And he wanted you to know.

When the kids had all piled out of Gareth’s basement, the two of you had headed straight to Eddie’s van. Your friendship had always been flirty - bordering on inappropriate - but the dam had finally broken a few weeks ago after a memorable night of getting high in his trailer while clandestinely helping him prep for the new campaign he was currently running. Eddie didn’t want the boys to know you were getting special treatment - and you didn’t want to put up with their predictable discomfort - so you had kept things low key, meeting up in secret.

But today you’d barely waited for the last boy to bike out of sight before pouncing on Eddie in his van.

Your hands had gripped his face and pulled you to him across the center console, mashing his mouth to yours with an aggression with which he’d only just started becoming accustomed. You hadn’t had much time to yourselves since things had started up between the two of you - a quickie in the arcade bathroom. A quiet hand job with Wayne in the next room, a whispered dirty phone call in the middle of the night. But tonight you were done with the distractions. Done with patience and done with waiting.

“I want you right fucking now,” you moan into his ear, hand on the side of his neck to keep a hold on him. Eddie’s eyes dart from the road and back to you.

“As much as I’d die happy getting to make you cum, I’d rather not crash this van, princess.” he says with a husky chuckle, whipping the vehicle around a turn. “I’m going to want to be able to do it about a million more times.”

“Then pull over and make me cum now!” you practically whine. Your hand slides over his upper thigh but he catches it before it can reach his crotch again.

“I’m not fucking you in the van again,” he says with authority that rings through your brain like a bell. “I’m taking you home.” He brings your hand to your own thigh and pushes it to rub circles into your skin. “I’m going to fuck you on my bed like you should be fucked. The way I want to fuck you.”

You huff and pout but secretly his words have you positively aching.

You don’t protest again until you’re both through the door of his trailer, your arms slung around his neck, when he reaches for his black pail.

“Are you not going to - ,” you’re already accusatory and he laughs smoke into your face. He pulled out and lit a pre rolled joint.

“Of course I’m going to fuck you. But I’m also going to enjoy this,” he says around the joint, taking another deep inhale before holding it up to your lips. You take a grateful drag and feel him tug you into his room and close the door behind with a definitive snap.

Eddie divests you of your clothing one piece at a time and it is agonizing. You try to grip at him with greedy fingers but he holds you down by the wrists, keeping you in place. But that just makes you want him more. The casual way he can control your body reminds you of the casual, cocky control he had over the Hellfire session and your panties grow even more damp. Just in time for him to peel them off of you.

“This pussy is positively dripping, princess. Who is it all for?” His fingers glide through your wet folds deliciously.

“The fucking pope,” you huff out, rolling your eyes to distract from the way your chest is heaving. He’s kept you waiting and he still has the nerve to tease you more? Eddie gasps theatrically, pulling his hand away from your cunt fast enough to make you whine. He makes the sign of the cross between you with the hand that glistens with your slick.

“I hate to break it to you, babe,” he says, smirking before putting his slick-soaked fingers into his mouth, sucking and releasing them with a satisfied pop. “I don’t think he’s going to be able to help you with this.”

“Oh no?” you ask, biting your tongue to keep from laughing at his stupid joke. He leans forward and kisses the taste of you onto your lips.

“No. But he does have that cool staff, cane thing. Maybe he’ll let you use it to get off.”

You slap him hard on the chest and pull back.

“Eddie, that thing has a fucking cross on it.” Your laugh is more affronted squeal than anything. Eddie shrugs.

“So?”

“You are suggesting that I…fuck myself on a cross?” One of your hands flies to cover your mouth as your voice dips into a whisper, unsure if you should even say that last part.

“Baby it’s just dirty talk. It’s theoretical,” he reasons, not even missing a beat or seeming one bit deterred by your words. He peels your hand from your mouth and kisses your wrist. “Theoretically I think you should be able to fuck yourself on whatever you so choose.” He begins kissing his way up from your wrist to the crook of your elbow to your shoulder to your collarbone. “I would, however, like to volunteer my services in the matter.”

“Oh yeah? You have something better to offer me than the papal staff?” you ask teasingly, beginning to melt in his arms under the force of his lips, suctioning as they were to your neck between his words.

“Princess. I’ve got your staff right here. And I can promise you it’s better than old John Paul whatever-the-fuck.” As he says this Eddie grabs your hand and places it on his crotch so you can feel his ridiculously solid hard on through his jeans. You bite back a moan, knowing you still need to get the last word in.

“John Paul the second,” you correct, and Eddie’s eyebrows shoot up.

“Jesus fucking Christ, should I really be worried you want to fuck the pope more than me?”

“Eddie,” you interrupt his dramatics by grabbing his face with both hands. “Shut up and fuck me.”

It’s a mad scramble of teeth and lips and flailing limbs as Eddie lunges for you and you do what you can to ride out his fervor. Your fingers dig into his biceps, holding on for dear life as he picks you up and manhandles you onto the bed. Finallyfinallyfinally giving you what you’ve been begging for for the better part of an hour.

With his jeans discarded on the floor, Eddie is now skin to skin with you, chest to chest. He takes both of your breasts into his hands and pushes them together, dropping his nose to plunge into the crevice he creates.

“How dare you dangle these tits in front of me during Hellfire,” he says, voice muffled by your breasts. His lips latch onto your flesh, suctioning so deeply you know you’ll have a mark. He releases you and looks up at you with shining lips. “You’re a fucking minx, you know that?”

“Yeah. And you’re a tease, Eds. Come on, I want it.” You’re pouting now. Something you’ve never done with any other guy before. But Eddie’s smile and voice and hands and being have got you acting funny. They’ve got you feeling funny. He makes you want to strip yourself bare and throw yourself at him - beg him to do with you what he will. To use you like an object and leave you shaking and writhing beneath him.

He must see all of that in your eyes as he bears down on you because his smile widens dangerously.

“Oh princess. What’s gotten into you? You used to be a good girl.” He says this while lining the tip of his cock up with your entrance, swiveling a teasing circle against the weeping hole. “Now you’re begging the dungeon master to give you his cock.”

“I want it,” you repeat, though your voice is starting to sound feeble to your own ears. One of his hands grips his cock for more dexterity and he drags it up and down, drawing a line up the length of your slit, tapping your clit each time he reaches it.

“I guess you were never really a good girl, let’s be honest,” he chuckles, ignoring your plea. He taps your clit with the head of his cock, more deliberately this time, and you whine. “Even all those years when we were just friends, really you were wanting this.”

It’s not exactly true and you know he knows that. Eddie’s just high and horny and talking shit and you love it - and what’s worse is he knows you love it. He knows you’re so turned on right now because he was so in charge during the Hellfire session and it boils your blood in more ways than one.

“Will you please fuck me, Eddie,” you try one more time, putting all your effort into speaking intelligably.

“Well since you ask so nicely, princess,” he says with a smirk before sinking all the way into you in one smooth, gut-wrenching motion.

“Ohmygod Eddie,” you gasp at the intrusion an he leans down to settle into the juncture of your neck. His lips press into your throat and you feel your body melt, feel it accept him inside you even deeper.

He finds a steady rhythm gradually, working himself and yourself up to a healthy pace. His thrust bring his body flush against you and you hold onto him for dear life as the pleasure mounts in your abdomen.

This is what you’d been wanting What you’d been needing.

One thrust lands perfectly, finding that spot inside you that makes your toes curl and your eyes roll back in your head. Your strangled moan makes him laugh against your skin.

“Yeah, baby? Yeah?” he asks teasingly in response to your wordless sounds. You weren’t capable of speech a second ago, so you’re not sure what he assumes teasing you will produce. It sure isn’t anything comprehensible, because now you’re muttering slurred amalgamations of expletives and his name.

“Next time you try to tease me during a session, you should get exactly what you deserve, princess,” he whispers then into your ear. A shudder runs through your body, making you clench around him and making his hips stutter in turn. He bites down into your shoulder before resuming his whispering. “Should send everyone out of the room and fuck you then and there on the table.”

Oh god.

He’s been fucking you for a while at this point, building building building just to slow his hips enough to pull you back from teetering on the edge. But now you find yourself getting lost. Find your head lolling back against the pillows, eyes out of focus.

“Because this is what you want, isn’t it? My full attention? Huh?”

You crane your neck up blindly, trying to kiss him. He leans forward just enough for your mouths to touch, but your panting is so ragged that without his effort, your lips just mash against his sloppily. He laughs into your parted lips.

“Baby’s so desperate. Like’s when I’m mean while DMing and while fucking her.”

“Yes!” you confess on a gasp and he rewards you by swirling a finger over your clit, throwing you off the edge. You cum on his cock violently and it seems like a release of more than just the tension built up over the last few weeks. You’re finally getting what you wanted and he’s right - it was his full attention.

“Jesus fucking christ you’re so beautiful,” he says on a cracked voice. His thrusts turn sloppy and you preen at the idea that your cumming could have such an effect on his impending orgasm.

“Don’t…” you struggle to catch your breath but you push through to speak. “Don’t say the lord’s name in vain.” And suddenly Eddie’s laughing so hard it’s got him hissing with how close he is to bursting inside you.

“First the pope, now the lord. Since when did you get religious on me?” Eddie’s breathless. Flush and sweating and you know he’s close. Can feel the pulse of his cock and know the end is near.

“What can I say? Being fucked by you is a religious experience,” you reply before clenching down on him as hard as you can. He sees stars and suddenly he’s cumming inside of you in big shuddering spurts. You accept all of him, peppering kisses on his throat and jaw as his cock finishes twitching and filling you with his spend.

He collapses down on you, but for only a moment before rolling over to lay beside you. He hasn’t dismounted you for more than two seconds, though, before he’s pulling you in against his body. His nose nuzzles into your hair and he inhales a deep shuddering breath.

“That enough attention for you?”

You duck your head out from under his chin to look up at him with mischievous eyes.

“I’ll probably need more soon. Hope you’re up for it.” Your tone is casual, but your smile is a challenge. Eddie leans down and nips at your bottom lip.

“Anything for you, princess.”

~*~

I’ll be honest, I can’t tell who to tag for just random Eddie stuff vs. who just wanted to be tagged in Show Me parts, so this is who I think wants to see this: @millenialcatlady @sacklerscumrag @theoncrayjoy chaoschaoswriting copycatkillerfics @cowboy-kylo lassie-bird softpshycopath katsukis1wife spookyreidd

#Eddie Munson x reader #Eddie Munson smut #Eddie Munson imagines #Eddie Munson fanfic #Eddie Munson x you #Eddie Munson/reader #Eddie Munson/you #Stranger Things smut #smut #fem!reader #eddie munson x fem!reader

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lambtotheslaughterr · 2 months

Text

I Burn: Part Five

A Rafe Cameron Mini Series

[THIS STORY WILL CONTAIN THEMES OF NON-CON/DUB-CON, MENTAL-EMOTIONAL-PHYSICAL ABUSE, ETC. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. 18+. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT]

WC: 4.4k

Dividers provided by @firefly-graphics

PART FOUR | MASTERLIST | PART SIX

For the last week you have felt more eyes on you than you would like. And none of them were eyes you wanted. The most daunting ones though were Dr. Mooney’s. He was disappointed in you. He didn’t need to say it, you felt it every time he looked at you. You had let him down. And you hated yourself for it. Hated Rafe even more because of it. You wish Rafe had never come here. It was all his fault, taking advantage of you. But a shameless part of you still wanted him. You worried you wouldn’t be satisfied until you finally did.

Dr. Mooney didn’t address the ‘incident’ until the following morning after catching you two in the quiet room. You & Rafe were removed from each other effectively & placed into your rooms. Doors locked. That rarely happened. But of course, it would happen to you.

The next morning you were to see Dr. Mooney, your routine be damned. Walking to his office that morning was excruciating. The longest walk of shame you had ever done. And once inside his office, you felt suffocated by the tension.

Unlike most times when you entered his office, Dr. Mooney did not greet you with a smile. He was already sitting in his chair across from the couch, one leg propped over the other & his notepad balanced on his knee. You stiffly moved towards the couch.

You wetted your lips, chewing your lower lip as you awaited his scolding.

“_____.” It was the first time he had said your name & it didn’t make you flutter. Instead, you wished you could sink into the couch & disappear from sight. You felt like a child about to get put into time out. That was essentially what happened.

“I want to understand your thoughts about last night.” Dr. Mooney eyed you from above his glasses, his brows crinkled.

There had been no thoughts. You had been influenced, manipulated, taken advantage of. And you said as such. But Dr. Mooney didn’t accept your answer.

“You are a grown woman. Placing blame entirely on Rafe is childish, is it not?” His rebuttal hurt. He had always been on your side; now it felt like he was admonishing you like you were no better than the worst.

“I went into that room alone, Dr. Mooney. I didn’t ask him to follow me.”

“Yes, free-will is a great thing. Something we want to empower our patients here with. Yet, you gave in to your addiction. You did not practice restraint.” He pressed his lips together as he stared hard at you.

You let out a shaky breath, “I tried…”

He frowned then, nodding once. “Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough.”

“We didn’t even have sex. You made sure of that.” You battled though your voice was small.

“And I’m glad I did. You were doing so well, _____. It truly disappoints me that I must make a call to your parents about this.”

“No!” You shot forward at the mention of your parents, “Please Dr. Mooney, don’t. You can’t!”

“I can & I must. It’s our policy that when an incident happens with our patients regarding their recovery process that we inform the parents or guardians. No exceptions.” Dr. Mooney’s voice hardened, having grown quite unimpressed with you.

“Please, please! If you tell them I’ll never get out of here! You heard my dad!” You begged, “He even thinks I’m sleeping with you! He thinks the absolute worst of me. Please, Dr. Mooney. It won’t ever happen again.”

Dr. Mooney’s eyes softened momentarily as he listened to your pleas, but much to your dismay, he shook his head, “I’m sorry, _____, but it’s policy. And I can’t excuse what you got up to last night. Perhaps you should’ve thought about the consequences of your actions before you made the decision to follow through on them.”

Tears slipped down your cheeks. You pulled your knees to your chest, hugging them tightly. You imagined your parents getting the call, learning the news. They left here hearing how well you were doing, an ‘excellent example’ Dr. Mooney had told them about your progress. Now, they would only be let down. Again.

You sniffled, wiping the tears from your eyes harshly as a simmering rage settled within you.

“You’re punishing me.” You whispered, not looking at him.

Dr. Mooney clicked his tongue, “I wish you didn’t view it that way.”

You raised your eyes to glare at him, “You never wanted to help me.”

He stuffed his notepad between his thigh & the arm of the chair, leaning forward to stare at you, “You know that’s not true.”

“Do I?” You questioned, “Because it sure doesn’t feel like it.”

“And I understand that it doesn’t.” He responded, “But I also thought you understood responsibility. It appears we still have much to work on.”

You shook your head in disagreement, glancing at the ground once more, unable to handle the look in his eyes as he looked at you.

“I’m never getting out of here.” You spoke to no one.

Dr. Mooney said nothing.

And so for the next week your sessions with Dr. Mooney were longer, though your conversations were brief. You didn’t trust him. You couldn’t. He had informed you in your second session with him following the incident that he did indeed call your parents. But you had not heard from them. You surmised you likely wouldn’t. You pictured your father not allowing your mother to call, to punish you further.

More so, group sessions were sporadic. Rafe & you had strict rules to not be allowed in the same room for at least a week, so you two took turns attending group therapy, & even got food during breakfast, lunch, & dinner at separate times. You hadn’t seen him all week, not even a peek. Dr. Mooney was taking your separation from each other seriously. So, you were watched like a hawk. Nurse Carney was with you most, if not all, the time. If the facility hadn’t felt like a prison before it sure did now.

But it was Friday now. The weekend was starting. And as much as you still blamed Rafe for what happened, you still longed to see him. At night, you imagined his face, his touch, his voice. It made you feel less alone, & it brought you comfort knowing that he was likely feeling the same you were. You two were opposing forces who couldn’t help but be drawn to each other. Why were you two being punished for that?

The only remotely ‘good’ thing to come out of this separation & prison treatment was that you hadn’t masturbated. You didn’t even have the urge. You were too angry to feel the burn. Dr. Mooney had said it was a good thing that you weren’t acting on your desires, but that it was unfortunate that it was due to negative feelings towards him & the recovery process. But restraint is restraint, he had said. It was the first time you imagined punching him. Desirable thoughts about Dr. Mooney had died quickly.

At this moment, you were dressed comfortably in a pair of shorts & a tank top. It was all your wardrobe really consisted of during your stay here. Your out & about clothes were unfortunately saved for community service days. Which was tomorrow. You wondered if Dr. Mooney would allow you out with your fellow patients, if he would let Rafe go. After all, it had been a week since you saw him, & there was no attempt to try to see him. Seeing him again would be your reward.

You reached Dr. Mooney’s office. The door was closed but you heard muffled voices inside. You couldn’t make out any words but there was a small laugh. It was a woman’s. You felt your skin burning hot, annoyed that whoever was inside was having a positive interaction with Dr. Mooney. That used to be you.

Knocking on the door, you didn’t care if you interrupted. There was the sound of footfalls before the door swung open. Dr. Mooney was dressed casually like he usually did on Friday’s before the weekend. And just behind him you saw Nurse Carney standing by his desk.

“_____ come in.” You kept your arms crossed in front of yourself as you stepped inside, not bothering to hide how you glanced between the two providers.

“Kiera, we’ll finish this later.”

She smiled politely at that, “Of course, Doctor.” She met your eyes in kind & nodded before leaving the two of you.

Dr. Mooney gestured to the couch & you dropped a knee onto it as he got situated in his chair, “My apologies, _____. I lost track of time.”

“What were you two talking about?” You knew you had no place to insert yourself in whatever private conversation they were having but you didn’t care.

“Tomorrow’s community service. I’m going to join in on this one.” The information surprised you. Dr. Mooney never came out on community service days. You had an inkling it was because of you & Rafe. But that meant that you two would indeed be together tomorrow.

“You are?”

“Mhmm.” He gave a closed lip grin, “My wife is going out of town & I figured it’d be a good opportunity to see my patients out in the real world. Take notes about their progress.”

You said nothing but shifted to get more comfortable.

“Okay, so.” He raised his hands lightly before bringing them back down to rest on his thighs, “How are you feeling?”

You shrugged, fingering the hem of your shorts, “Fine.”

“_____.” Dr. Mooney said your name concerningly, “You need to talk to me. I understand that you feel like you were being punished for this last week, but I really implore you to understand it’s for your well-being. You want to get better, don’t you?”

What a stupid fucking question. You nodded silently.

“The separation ends tomorrow. How are you feeling about that?”

Ecstatic. But you wouldn’t say so. You worried if you showed too much excitement towards it that he would extend the separation. “I’m just glad I won’t be treated like a prisoner anymore.”

“You’re not a prisoner. But you are under my care here. And I only separated the two of you to protect you.” Dr. Mooney frowned, “One day you’ll see that.”

“So, if Rafe & I even talk to each other tomorrow, we won’t get in trouble for that?” It wasn’t a silly question. You really needed to know how close you could be with him without getting in trouble for it.

“Of course not, _____. I am not to speak with you about other patient’s progress, but the separation was for you as much as it was for Rafe. You two are in very fragile, vulnerable stages of the recovery process. It’s typical for patients to find comfort or connection in one another, but physical comfort, physical connection is prohibited. Should you two succeed in your stay here & leave the facility, what transpires between the two of you is between the two of you, but our goal here is to have a healthy relationship. And in your case, a healthy relationship with a man is essential.”

“Is Rafe not healthy for me?” You questioned.

“Right now, no.” Dr. Mooney admitted, “And neither are you for him. You two tempt each other. You bring out each other’s recklessness. Recklessness for addicts is, as expected, always troublesome. I care about you, & Rafe, leaving here with the self-empowerment to recognize your respective addictive behaviors & the skills to navigate them in a safe, healthy manner.”

You bit your lip, frowning. You hated that he was making sense. But you were still angry.

“I’m sorry for saying you were punishing me. That you didn’t want to help me.”

Dr. Mooney smiled softly, “I accept your apology. But I am here for you, _____. I only want what is best for you.”

You nodded, “I know. I guess I just have a hard time believing that after everything.”

“Recovery is a tough, tough process. A lot of animosity, blame on others, resentment, anger, deep regret—all of those things make recovery difficult. But I still believe in you.”

For the first time in a week Dr. Mooney made your heart flutter with his praising words.

“Thank you for saying that.”

It was also the first time in a week that you smiled. Even if it was a small one.

Saturday saw you getting excitedly dressed for community service day. Nurse Carney had informed all the patients that today’s outing would be a two hour long drive to the coast for beach clean-up. You groaned at the thought of cleaning up other people’s garbage, but when she had told others to wear beach wear, your disgust quickly transitioned to anticipation. After beach clean-up, patients would be allowed to actually enjoy the beach. A reward for all your hard word & dedication to the recovery process.

So you changed into a navy blue one-piece suit then slipped into a pair of jeans & tugged on a lime green cropped hoodie. Since you were going to the beach, you wore a pair of your favorite sandals, though you knew the second you touched sand you’d be kicking them off. You couldn’t wait to feel the beach under your feet.

In the lobby, you joined the others as Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney did a head count. You spotted Rafe along the furthest wall, his arms crossed as he stared out the window. He had yet to spot you. Glancing at Dr. Mooney briefly to see if he was curious as to what you were up to, you bravely began walking towards Rafe. But a figure stepped in front of you.

“Sit with me?” It was Albert. His hair was tied into a bun, a few strands hanging loose to kiss his forehead. You stuttered at his sudden request. And before you could even respond, Albert tugged on your arm to lead you outside where the van waited. Guess your reunion with Rafe would have to wait until the beach.

Inside the van, Albert gently pushed you back towards the furthest row before sitting beside you. Siena appeared behind him & sat on his other side. They traded looks that looked as if they were speaking to one another without words. You were about to ask them what the hell they were up to when Rafe appeared next. You let out a pleased exhale, but it was short-lived as he pointedly avoided looking in your direction.

Rafe slid into the second row, sitting directly in front of you, & Renne sat beside him. Then Dr. Mooney got into the passenger seat while Nurse Carney took to the drivers seat. Most everyone was talking jovially about today’s outing, but your elation slowly rotted away as you stared at the back of Rafe’s head. There was palpable energy rolling off him. The whole of the van was filled with laughter, screeches of joy, but where he sat was a dark cloud, & that cloud was beginning to cast over you.

You frowned to yourself. Something was wrong. Though you didn’t know Rafe well, he wasn’t the brooding type. Yet there he was slouched in his seat, staring straight ahead. You narrowed his eyes, willing him to feel the hole you were burning into the back of his head. But he never looked back. Not once.

“You okay?” You inhaled sharply as Albert broke your focus.

“Yeah, sure.” You forced a smile.

But you weren’t. You couldn’t be. Not when Rafe wasn’t.

The beach clean-up had been surprisingly a lot of fun. You contributed the fun of it to the sun & the feel of sand squished between your toes. Dr. Mooney & Nurse Carney kept a loose leash on all of you as you all traversed up & down the beach with stabbers & garbage bags. The clean-up itself lasted only a couple hours & then Nurse Carney called for everyone to join her & Dr. Mooney under a canopy they had set up for making lunch under.

Lunch was styled like a sandwich buffet. Breads, cheeses, meats, veggies, condiments, the whole shebang. You made yourself a simple ham & cheese sandwich & accepted a salad bowl from Nurse Carney that she had made. Then the seven of you ate on towels nearby. You had planned on going to sit with Rafe, but Albert & Siena snatched you up yet again, dragging you over to sit with them.

Though you were enjoying their sudden interest in you, you were mildly annoyed. You hadn’t been near Rafe in a week. All you wanted, more than anything, was just to at least eat with him. Dr. Mooney said it would be okay. And these two were preventing you from doing just that.

But once you were done eating, you were determined to approach Rafe, to spend whatever time left you had on the beach to be near him. After finishing your food, you hurriedly carried your trash back to the canopy. Nurse Carney was gathering up the lunch items & placing them back into a small chest.

“Thanks for lunch.” You told her.

She grinned, her red hair glistening against the beach backdrop, “Of course, I hope it was decent enough.”

You nodded then turned back around. Renee was down by the water in a pair of black shorts & a long sleeve. You rolled your eyes. Only she would be dressed in all black on a day out to the beach. Freak.

To your left, you watched as Albert & Siena dressed down to their respective bathing suits. Albert wore multi-colored board shorts & Siena sported a coral pink tankini. Then you peered around for the object of your desire. A couple yards away, Rafe sat on a beached log. He wore a white tank top & navy blue board shorts. Even from your vantage point you could still sense the cloud hanging over him. And on a beautiful day like this, you were set on parting the cloud hanging over him.

Removing your own hoodie, you placed on top of a nearby towel, followed by your jeans. Then you began walking towards him. It came naturally to you to walk with a little sass in your walk, it was how you often drew the male gaze to yourself, but as you grew closer to Rafe, he never once looked your eyes, even when you knew you were without a doubt in his peripheral. Once you were finally upon him, you gently kicked sand towards him.

“Why the long face?” You teased, choosing to sit on your knees on the sand before him rather than joining him on the log.

Rafe peered at you, his eyes squinting from the sun, “Did you need something?”

His cold tone & choice of words shocked you. You frowned at him, “What’s wrong?”

He chuckled darkly at your question but there was no amusement in it, “What do you want, _____?”

Words evaded you. What was his fucking deal? You were so happy, so so happy to finally be able to talk to him. And this was how he spoke to you after a week of not seeing each other? You expected him to be happier. So, why wasn’t he?

“I don’t know, I just…” His dark cloud was growing bigger. “Sorry. I’ll leave you alone.”

You had just stood up & was about to walk away when a hand shot out & gripped your wrist, “Don’t leave.”

This time he spoke softly. But you couldn’t deal with his bipolar attitude. It was ruining your beach day.

You pulled your wrist from his grasp, not because you didn’t want him touching you—you did—but if Nurse Carney or, god forbid, Dr. Mooney saw, who knew what reparations may come your guys’ way.

Rafe sighed heavily, “I’m sorry. Just a lot on my mind.”

You returned to your knees, nodding in understanding, “Same here. What’s wrong though?”

Rafe shook his head, his tongue poking his lower lip out, “It’s fucking Dr. Mooney.”

At the mention of his name, you glanced over your shoulder back towards the canopy. Nurse Carney was talking animatedly by Dr. Mooney’s side, but his eyes were watching the two of you. You looked away.

“What happened?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, seemingly contemplating whether or not he would tell you, “He doesn’t want me near you.”

You shrugged, “That’s not true, Rafe. He just wants us to get better.”

Rafe scoffed at that, “Is that what he told you?”

“Well, yeah.” You brushed your hair out of your eyes as a light breeze picked up, “Isn’t that what he told you?”

Rafe glared over your shoulder, no doubt aiming it towards the doctor in question. “No. It isn’t.”

The look of malice on his face concerned you, “What did he say then?”

“You wouldn’t believe me.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m the only one here who would believe you.”

“You sure about that?” Rafe responded in short.

You felt doubt swell in your heart. What could Dr. Mooney possibly have said to upset Rafe?

“He wants you. He doesn’t care about you getting better. And he definitely doesn’t like how close we’ve become.”

His words shocked you. Dr. Mooney?! You stared hard at Rafe, not finding his jest funny, “Bullshit. Why are you lying?”

“See. I knew you wouldn’t believe me.” Rafe stood up, shaking his head, “Whatever. He’s obviously got you wrapped around his finger.”

Scared that Rafe was going to leave you, you rushed forward, grabbing his wrist like he had yours. You didn’t care if Dr. Mooney saw, “No, wait. I’m sorry. I’ll listen.”

Rafe stared down at you. He gently overturned his wrist, catching your hand in his, your fingers briefly tangling before he finally sat back down. You let go of his hand.

“He really said that?” You questioned. You had a hard time believing it, honestly. Dr. Mooney had never shown any interest in you like that. And you believed him when he said he was determined to help you get better. More so, why would he admit that to a patient of his own, that he was essentially going to prevent you from leaving the facility? It didn’t make sense, but you weren’t going to express that.

“He didn’t have to.” Rafe replied, his answer making you frown. “But I know him. Because I am him. He’s threatened by me.”

“No, that’s not—”

“Yes, _____. I see the way he watches you. Think about it. He knows you & your addiction better than anyone else, even yourself. He knows what to say, what to do to get you to listen to whatever he says. Even now, he hasn’t stopped looking at you once since you came over here.”

But that was because of the two of you getting caught. Nothing more. However, you couldn’t deny the burning sensation igniting deep within yourself. Was it true? Was it really true that Dr. Mooney saw you as more than a patient? You were conflicted on how to feel about it. Part of you was pleased, but the other part, disappointed.

“Something Dr. Mooney will never admit is that he’s as much of a man as any of us. He still has carnal wants. And he wants you.” Rafe told you, “And who wouldn’t. Look at you. You know what you do to men. Just because he’s your doctor doesn’t mean he doesn’t look at you like he wants a taste himself.”

His words left you feeling unwell.

“You should’ve seen the way he watched you when you got undressed just now. Probably wondering what else you have going on under there. I mean, he got a peek last week when he interrupted us. He knows you dressed down for me, not him, & it pisses him off. It pisses him off that you want someone other than him.”

You shook your head, “No. We’re at the beach! I wore this for the beach…” But you could hear the doubt in your own argument.

“You say that but we both know.” Rafe chided you, “And so does he. You’re caught in the middle, _____, don’t you see that? Being pulled between two men who want you.”

You were getting too hot, too flustered. You felt dizzy & your stomach lurched. No. Dr. Mooney didn’t want you. He couldn’t. Rafe was just fucking with you again. He had to be. Dr. Mooney was a good man, a good doctor. He cared about you. Rafe didn’t.

Angry, you stood up, glaring down at Rafe, “You’re lying. That’s what you do. You manipulate. Just like how you manipulated me in the quiet room.”

Rafe laughed loudly at that, “I manipulated you? Or were you just desperate for someone to want you?”

“Fuck you.” Your voice broke as tears pierced your vision.

“Well, I would’ve if your precious doctor hadn’t stopped us.” Rafe stood with you, stepping close enough to touch but he didn’t, “You know what I’m talking about. You know when a man wants you. You’re really telling me you haven’t noticed?”

Rafe’s words embedded themselves into your skin.

Not Dr. Mooney. No.

But you weren’t sure. Not anymore.

Rafe sniffed, licking his lips as he stared down the beach, “He may say he cares about you, but he doesn’t. You’ll see for yourself. Just wait.”

“You’re wrong.” Your voice shook.

“Fine.” Rafe caught your chin, forcing you look up at him, “You say that now. But when you see what I’m talking about, don’t come running to me.”

With that, Rafe left you where you stood. You kept your arms wrapped around yourself, uncomfortable. Today was supposed to be a good day. A beach day with Rafe. But now, you wished for nothing more than to be locked within the confines of your room.

Storming towards the canopy, you ignored the concerned looks Nurse Carney & Dr. Mooney were sending you way. Turning your back to them, you slipped back into your cropped hoodie & jeans.

“_____? Are you alright?” Dr. Mooney asked from behind you.

“Fine.” You feigned a smile, “I’m gonna go for a walk.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Dr. Mooney stood to your right. You couldn’t look him in the eye, afraid you’d see what Rafe insisted was there.

“Yes. I’ll be nearby.”

Passing by him, you slipped your shades onto your face to hide the tears that threatened to fall. This beach day could go to hell for all you cared.

part five(:

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themotherofblood · 5 months

Note

Omg I love your Bloody Baby series! Could I request like an update where maybe reader is in danger and gets hurt and ends in fluff? If anything I would just love more updates 😭😍🥰

you asked and I deliver :)

warnings: blood!! (duh) major injuries, not very realistic but in fanfic so don’t give me a hard time. just lots of gory blood stuff okay :)

synopsis: Nyra and Daemon go out hunting for The Seven, Nyra gets poisoned and ends up hurting baby (badly!) Daemon saves the day,

masterlist | bloody baby series | vampire au

A/N: I’m in hurt/comfort mood.

There was nothing, they had been at it for a week— shady fuckers never stayed out long enough to leave a scent.

Daemon had to raise a toast to their religious determination for sure, spending over a millennia hunting them— their kind. Wasn’t an easy task to keep up with a growing population, they had another reason for their relentless search this time. A secret that was hidden so well even they couldn’t find it, a possibility of cure from the last Great Weirwood tree.

A tree that should have burnt when the Night King was taken down, but its own powers saved it. The blasted thing was out there, somewhere far north, even modern technology had not ventured that far out and neither could they.

“There is nothing, two weeks and nothing!” Rhaenyra sighs into the phone.

There was news of a deal being struck at a very special kind of apothecary, and if the Seven pokes their heads out now, when they are more exposed then ever. It would have been for a damn good reason.

“We should head home, lingering will do us no good.” Daemon hummed, circling the hotel room where his enemies laid in.

Rhaenyra hums on the other end, a faint sound a zipper rumbles on the other end before she speak again.

“Be careful my love.”

“Always.”

Rhaenyra let go of her phone, picking up her bags to carry them to her car. She missed home, it wasn’t like she could sleep— ever. But she missed the feeling of laying in a soft plush bed with her husband on one end and you in the other. She missed the touch of pure human warmth against her skin, the sound of a beating heart under her.

Her senses however caught a whiff of something else, the deceived tug of something being missing, something looming around the corner bothered her. She froze by the door of the abandoned building, her ears hearing everything from miles away, cars, motorbikes, children crying and a dog howling. Nothing went unheard, just like the distant sound of a thudding heart. Very prominent by the second.

Out of the blue, a hooded man comes at her, too powerful for human but not quite quick enough as she dodges his blow, grunting as she whacks her bag against the side of this man. From behind her, the sounds of gunfire echo, pointed wooden bullets lodge themselves into her back.

Motherfuc—

Painful, effective but not enough to take down a vampire of her calibre. She reaches down to duck more shots, tearing the heel of her shoes and launching it at the person with the gun. The pointed heel launching itself straight in their neck, blood guzzling out of their mouth as the person fell to the floor twitching, succumbing to death.

The second man still taking his shots at her, pushing her hard against the cement walls of the building.

Rhaenyra’s hand curled around his neck, hoping to tear his head off his shoulders.

The man bares his fangs out wide, snarling before digging into Rhaenyra’s throat, pulling a chuck out in the process.

She screams, kicking the man’s knee so hard it breaks— he falls to the floor grunting. A bloody smile to his face as he accepts that he has no way out.

Rhaenyra huffs before plunging her hand deep into his chest, pulling the his frosted red heart out of its cavity, letting his body grey into nothing.

Pain radiated through Rhaenyra’s body as she reached behind to pull the six wooden bullets out of her back, the wounds small enough to stop bleeding immediately but her throat, it was throbbing in pain.

She had to feed, she had to go home. The wound was healing but she hadn’t feed enough for it to heal entirely of its own. She stumbled out of the building, using a piece of her torn dress to stop the bleeding as she some how managed to speed home. The sheer will of not wanting to kill an innocent took her home, to the vast fridge of blood bags waiting for her.

The car seat she sat on was soaked in blood as she grunted out of her BenZ, she looked up to her castle and suddenly her perspective shifted. She turned behind for a moment, her car no longer there but an ornate carriage. She shook her head hard, this time she saw her car.

With relief she stumbled into the castle, making beeline for the kitchens as quietly as she could, she didn’t want to wake you. She didn’t want you to see her like this— you couldn’t cope from the blood and she knew it.

When she opened the doors to the kitchen, instead of very modern stainless steel appliances she was treated to stone walls, massive pots placed on wooden stoves, the aprons of maids hung by the door. She shook her head once more.

Kitchen— her kitchen

She proceeded to rip open the door into her walk in bridge of all the blood she could want, she reached for the first bag closest to her and took a big swig— her pain dissipating for a moment as she rested her hot head against the ice cold fridge shelf. She took two more swigs before reaching for two more bags and exiting the fridge.

She was once again greeted to a medieval stone kitchen. This time she was terrified

What was happening to her

The open wound on her neck began to rip into her, she screamed in agony as she fell to her knees.

The blood pooling around her in the kitchen, she peeled her eyes open, trying to compose herself enough to call for Daemon.

She was still created by an old kitchen and woman she wished she had killed with her own bare hands.

Few feet from her stood Alicent, a bloody smirk on her face and a stake in her hand.

You woke up to the sound of crockeries rattling, other than a few security detail outside. No one should be home.

You tried to rub the sleep away from your eyes as a certain excitement filled your chest.

They were home

You happily pulled yourself out of bed, wrapping your fuzzy teal robe around you and taking your water cup along with you as you padded down the cold tiled hallway and down the main stairs.

You heard more thrashes, wondering if it was Rhaenyra and Daemon yet again very passionately professing their love for one another. It seemed a hobby of theirs to completely destroy a room as they fucked away their fill.

What you were met with instead was bloody footsteps, dragging from the main doors headed towards the kitchen. This time you were cautious, reaching for the closest silent alarm in the main foyer and picking up an old heavy candle stand. You know you shouldn’t, you should go upstairs and lock yourself in there until help comes, but then you see more blood—puddles of it leading into the kitchen.

You see a hand poking right out from the kitchen doors, as you turn the corner you see your detail, men dressed in black clothes— dead men dressed in black blood soaked clothes.

One body, two body.

When you move into the kitchen, you hear rustling behind the massive kitchen island. You hold the candle stand with both hands in front of you, ready to swing it at whoever was behind it. As you turn another corner, you find silver hair soaked in blood and a distinct red colour of a dress.

“R-Rhaenyra?” You stuttered, fear losing itself so deep in your bones but also concern as she turns to you.

Then you see it, the hefty chuck on her neck oozing blood as she sucked the blood out of one of the dead men meant to be protecting you.

Her eyes are dark, face stained red with chucks of flesh hanging from her lips.

“Wh—“

“Run.”

“L-Let me help you.” You whimpered.

“D-darling I need you to run.” She cries.

“But”

“I said go away!” She screams at you, eyes red and wild.

Tears pour from your eyes as you hesitate, you begin to walk backwards, everything in you wanting to fix Rhaenyra— to be with her until Daemon returns but as you keep walking back. You foot slips in the puddle of blood and you fall backwards, hitting your head at the edge of the island in the process before splashing into the thick red liquid.

Rhaenyra turns to you once more, she was there one moment and she shook her head again.

This time she charges at you, landing on top of you as you push her face away screaming.

“Rhaenyra please!” You cry out, hoping that she is in there somewhere.

You however were no match to her strength, she easily caught onto your wrist— a little pressure from her end and then throbbing pain shot through your arm.

In the moment of adrenaline, you reached next to you, giving Rhaenyra the perfect aim for your jugular. She bites in as more pain shoots up your spine.

This time you catch onto the jagged candle stand and stab her right through the back, Rhaenyra retreats, sitting over you but you don’t hesitate and plunge your weapon straight to her heart.

Rhaenyra freezes, the veins in her body go blue as she crumbles next you, her body grey and eyes life less.

You had no time to witness what you had done, some how without slipping in the pool of blood again you race out of the kitchen and up the stairs into your room and then your closet. Using your entire body to push a white dresser in front of the door before cowering behind the rack of coats.

The aderaline still coursing through your body, you look at your bent wrists, you cry out— the blood covering you and Rhaenyra.

She wasn’t there but—

You killed her

Daemon had already been driving home, after collecting some more information from his insiders he too shared the same need to lay in the arms of the two women he loved. The streets were dead enough from him to feel the might of his car’s engine as he blasted music.

What caught him off guard however was the security alarm notification that popped up on his watch, if he wasn’t already flooring the gas he sure was now. Racing to get home, Rhaenyra should have been home by now— that gave his heart some comfort but he sped nonetheless.

What he was greeted with was gruesome, cruel. His eyes were seeing things but he couldn’t process them.

Blood to the kitchen and blood up the stairs.

“Rhaenyra!”

“Y/N!”

He screamed, within a second he was in the kitchen. The room stunk of death, the bodies of his hired detail laid scattered across the floor, and in the pile a head of lovely silver hair stained red.

“Rhaenyra…” he sighed, fingers grazing at the iron candle post in her chest.

He placed her body back down, this listening hard for a faint heartbeat that was very much present. He rushed up to your room to find it empty and thuds of your heart echoing from your closet. He pushed against the barred door, huffing unwanting to scare you any further.

“No…no please.”

He heard your weakened cries as he pushed down the door to find you sitting against your long coats, a shawl pressed up against a heavily bleeding wound and your left wrist bent backwards.

Your lips were nearly blue as weakly cried and stuttered.

“I- I killed her.” You repeated over and over again, refusing to be held by Daemon.

Daemon bit into his wrist, letting blood ooze to the surface before pressing them to you lip, almost forcing the liquid into your mouth as you repeated the same phrase in shock.

You sat against him, letting the vampire blood do its work, Daemon could hear your bones realigning as he soothed you with his hands running down your back and nestling your hair. Once healed he effortlessly lifted your limp body and carried you to the bathroom, he placed you on the sink counter. Letting your body rest against the pink walls as he filled your claw tub with warm water.

If you were conscious enough to see it, it tore him from the inside to see you covered in the blood, the faint marks of your still healing wounds and the lifeless pain behind your eyes. His wife laid temporarily dead in the kitchen that he very lovingly made her breakfast this morning in.

He undid the cuffs of his dress shirt, pulling them up his forearms before gently taking off your night shift, he saw more bruising slowly fading away as he deposited you into the warm water.

The sensation seemed to have shot life back into you as you gasped, you looked up at him wide eyed, with so much pain and concern.

“I’m sorry.” Your eyes pooled “I hurt her, I- kill-“

“She’s fine, she will be fine.” He cooed, pulling the hand shower to wash the blood away from your hair.

His fingertips feeling the head wound shut itself as he washed away the remaining blood. It took nearly an hour to wash away all the blood from your body.

You switched from states of sobbing uncontrollably where he would have to stop and calm you and just staring mindlessly at the red water you sat in.

“Sshh, you are safe.”

“You did good, so good.”

“I know it hurts,” he kissed your temple as the last of the wounds healed themselves.

He had plucked you away from the bath, once again dressed and tucked under the heavy sheet of their shared bedroom instead of yours.

Even tucked in, your eyes pooled once more. He didn’t want to do it but he was yet to pick up the pieces of his wife just yet.

His cold palm rested against your cheek as he wiped away the falling tears.

“You have to sleep.” His eyes dilated.

You whimpered and nodded, your eyes soon after fluttering to slumber. He sat there for a moment, listening to your heartbeat and watching as the frown from your face melted away.

This was close, too close. Rhaenyra was indestructible, you however were a dandelion in the breeze.

She was holding back, she was in there. If she wasn’t, you’d be dead and that’s the kind of weight that would destroy Nyra for the rest of her miserable eternity.

Daemon pulled away, locking the doors to his bedroom from the outside before heading down for Rhaenyra.

All he could think of as he pulled the candle stand from her chest and carried her to the Iron Cells was how close he was to loosing everything.

To loosing you.

Andddd that’s a wrap, I missed writing for this series so much but I crunched it down in one go.

Comments and reblogs are appreciated

Let me know if you would like to be on the tag list.

#daemon targaryen x reader #daemon targaryen x reader x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen x rhaenyra targaryen #daemon targaryen #house of the dragon #bloody baby series #daemon headcanon #daemon smut #daemon things #daemon prince #vampire!rhaenyra #daemyra vampire au #vampire!daemon #vampire au

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indybob · 4 months

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I’m bored on a Saturday night so here’s a random snippet from chapter 3 of “Maybe We Were Always Meant To Be” with Mav being a Dad™️ and helping Bradley with his massive crush on Jake!!

As Maverick finishes a story, Jake drains the last of his beer, “Either of you want me to grab y’all another drink?”

“Would you mind setting a water bottle on the table for me?” Maverick asks.

“Sure thing,” Jake says, walking back toward the hangar.

“Will you grab one for me, too?” Bradley calls after him.

“You got it, darlin’.” Jake’s voice slips back into that slight Southern accent as he uses the pet name.

Bradley blushes then turns back to Maverick, who raises his eyebrows knowingly before returning his attention to the grill.

“Shut up,” Bradley mutters.

Maverick raises his hands, defensively, “I didn’t say a thing.”

“You didn’t have to. The look said it all.”

Maverick sighs in exasperation, slumping his shoulders and giving his attention to Bradley. “So, you like Jake—big deal. He clearly likes you, too.”

“Mav,” Bradley pleads.

“Bradley,” Maverick mimics.

Bradley scoffs, “You don’t get it.”

“What don’t I get?” Maverick asks, sincerely. “Lay it out, kiddo. It’s just me and you.”

“This whole thing with me and Jake just isn’t as simple as you make it out to be,” Bradley complains.

“Well, why not? Help me understand, Baby Goose.”

Bradley blows out a deep breath, deciding the only thing he can do is tell Maverick the truth, “I’m in love with him, Mav.”

Maverick simply smiles, “I knew it.”

Bradley groans in frustration, “Is it that obvious?”

Maverick chuckles, “To me, and probably anybody who’s not you or Jake, yes. But you two are both locked in your own little world of obliviousness, so I’d say he doesn’t know either.”

“So, what am I supposed to do then?”

Maverick considers that a moment, “Kiddo, I don’t think you have to do anything. You could let this whole thing with Jake be a mess of one-sided pining, or you could take a chance. I really think he likes you, Bradley.”

“I’m just scared that he won’t feel the same and I’ll ruin the friendship we’ve rebuilt. Or it will work for a while, but that I’ll fuck it up in the long run.”

Maverick flips the burgers on the grill again, then turns back to Bradley. “Look, things like this—love and relationships—have always ended with me learning the hard way. It doesn’t have to be that way with you and Jake. Don’t let those fears hold you back from taking a chance. I know what it’s like to live with that regret. And, since you’re as good as my son, it’s my job to warn you against repeating my mistakes.”

“You really do think it’s worth the risk?” Bradley asks, hopefully.

“I do, kiddo. And it’s a different time now. You and Jake are blessed to not have to fear for your careers over how you feel about each other. I wasn’t so lucky. I told myself that the fear of losing my career was what held me back for so many years, but it was me too. I was scared to try with Ice. And, well, you know how that ended up.” Maverick’s voice breaks at the end of the sentence.

“Fuck, Mav. I didn’t mean to bring up—“

Maverick raises up a hand, effectively shushing Bradley. “It’s okay. I want you to know that so you can learn from it. I would hate for you to have to experience the regret that Ice and I both had for years over not doing something about our feelings. I know he loved Sarah, but I never stopped wondering what might have been. Don’t make that same mistake, Bradley, please.”

Bradley can feel himself starting to tear up just at the thought of all that Maverick has lost along the way. Sure, Maverick has Penny now, and he knows that they love each other, but like Maverick said, he still wonders what could have been.

Damn it. Maverick’s right. Bradley won’t be able to live with himself if he lets the chance pass him by, never knowing what could have been between him and Jake. That same regret that Maverick lives with…Bradley honestly doesn’t think he’d be strong enough to handle it.

“Maybe you’re right,” Bradley concedes.

Maverick chuckles, slightly tearfully, “With this, I know I am.”

“I just wish I could be as sure as you.”

“Bradley, do you know what makes me so sure?”

“Years of experience?” Bradley ventures.

Maverick shrugs, “Well, yes, but also, it’s the way you two look at each other. When you’re not looking Jake looks at you like you’ve hung the moon. Like you’re the most beautiful, perfect person that’s ever walked the Earth.”

Bradley blushes, trying to brush it off, “I don’t know about that.”

Maverick gives him a pointed look. “And the looks you give him? It’s exactly how your dad used to look at your mom when they were dating and for the several years they were married. He loved her so much, and I can see that same love in your eyes when you look at Jake.”

Maverick finishes up with the burgers on the grill, setting them on a plate. Once Maverick’s hands are free, Bradley brings him in for a grateful hug. “Thanks, Mav.”

“Of course, Baby Goose. Be confident, and when you get the chance, make that man yours.”

#dadmav #my writing #my fanfic writing #hangster fanfiction #writing wip #hangster #sereshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #jake hangman seresin #pete maverick mitchell #top gun maverick

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cool-cowboy · 4 months

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Summary:

A continuation of my work Stress Reliever, in which you do something maybe a little stupid, which pisses off your easily annoyed partner, who then releases the stress you caused by saying mean things, along with doing you on the floor of the catacombs you fled into following your daring plan. He's mean, but it's all an act, a way to let out some long pent-up aggression, and you thoroughly enjoy it, anyways. It isn't necessary to read the first part, it's got enough context to catch you up if necessary. Anyways, enjoy!

Tags:

Dominant Leon S. Kennedy, Hate sex, angry sex, rough body play, rough sex, dirty talk, floor sex, wall sex, name calling, praise kink, overstimulation, face-fucking, crying, held down, creampie

Blurb:

“I got us out, okay? Now get the fuck-!”

“You almost got yourself killed! What, that tired of me you’re gonna kill yourself?”

“Didn’t look like you had a plan! Quit acting like you give a shit, you would’ve been fine either way!”

“You think I don’t give a shit?! Fine, I’ll stop saving your ass then, fuckin’ bitch!... Keep tellin’ myself you’re good for more than a fuck, but you keep proving me wrong every goddamn time.”

Text:

“Hey, get your ass back here!” I’m being petty, but he deserves it, thought it’d be a good idea to scream in my face over something mostly insignificant, a plan gone haywire, something we’re both well acquainted with, only this was a much closer call than usual. “Quit fuckin’ walking away from me!” He's yelling, hand gripping tight to my arm, wrestling my knife away from me and shoving me against a dirty wall, forearm pressing a little too harshly on my throat, my most evil glare returned by my not so happy partner.

“I got us out, okay? Now get the fuck-!”

“You almost got yourself killed! What, that tired of me you’re gonna kill yourself?” He cocks his head at me, pissed, his body pressed tight to mine, my hands held above my head by rough fingers, not giving me any opportunity to squirm my way out of his hold.

“Didn’t look like you had a plan! Quit acting like you give a shit, you would’ve been fine either way!” We’ve been fighting a lot the past few weeks, being more violent with each other than usual, the mission we’re currently on entirely too drawn out, an almost impossible task leaving us tense and at each other’s throats, for him literally. He narrows his eyes, and he would be terrifying if I hadn’t known him so damn long, if I wasn’t used to the way he treats me by now.

“You think I don’t give a shit?! Fine, I’ll stop saving your ass then, fuckin’ bitch!” I scoff, and he doesn’t like it, letting out a displeased noise and pressing his arm harder against my throat when I try to get away, make myself less vulnerable to him, put some space between us so this doesn’t escalate any further. “Keep tellin’ myself you’re good for more than a fuck, but you keep proving me wrong every goddamn time.” That one hurt, and he knows it, was trying to hurt my feelings, not that it’s true, even if our relationship is complicated, we’re the only people we’ve got, stuck with each other until we really do end up dead.

“Well at least I’m good for that, can’t say the same about you.” He doesn’t give me the satisfaction of surprise, instead his lips pull up into what would be a menacing smile, if his dramatics really did have an effect on me. He brings his face closer, huffing a bemused laugh when I turn my head to the side, refusing him the eye contact he likes so much, his lips instead moving to rasp low, rough words against my ear, his fingers squeezing tight around my wrists.

“Yeah? Sure, we both know you’re a dirty slut for it, love my dick so much you’d probably let me fuck you right now…” I squirm, trying and failing to escape him, knowing he won’t do anything I truly don’t want, but not wanting to succumb to his trick, give him the satisfaction of giving in. “I know you too damn well, you can’t hide shit from me, you fuckin’ love it when I get like this, squeeze me so tight when I fuck you rough.” He pulls back, letting his arm against my throat drift so he can grip my jaw, forcing my face toward him, my eyes cast down, ignoring what we both know is the truth. “What? Can’t look at me now that your slutty little secret’s in the open? Why don’t you let me calm the both of us down, let me fuck you so good we’ll both forget how fuckin’ stupid you are.” He’s pressing his knee between my thighs, pushing against the crotch of my pants, a little smirk on his face when my eyes pull up, still mad, but willing to put that to the side, at least for now.

“I’m not stupid, get off-!” He’s holding on too tight, hurting my jaw and my wrists, my cheeks squished under his fingers, my struggling not at all aiding me in my escape, his low laugh earning him a glare, but he doesn’t mind, returns it, pressing his lips to mine, a little too harsh, groaning when I kiss him back, never the one to deny myself pleasure, and neither is he, god knows neither of us get nearly enough.

“That’s what I thought… I’ll give you what you need… If I don’t wring your pretty neck first…” He’s kissing down over my neck, nipping and sucking hard enough to know it hurts, his hands holding me almost perfectly still, his grip painful, bruising and hot on my skin. “Why can’t you just… Be a good girl and listen… Always doing some stupid shit…” He cares a little too much, never expresses it, too scared to lose someone else, lay his feelings out just to get his heart torn to shreds, his anger stemming from fear, a helpless sadness he's never been very good at handling. He releases my jaw, the pain still there where his fingers were pressed to my skin, his freed up hand running down to knead at my breast through my shirt, his thigh moving against the crotch of my pants making me gasp, his smile pressed to the base of my throat. He’s so big, looming over me and pressing into me, making me shaky and all too willing to let him use me however he pleases, embarrassing as that is.

“Leon-”

“Shut the fuck up, don’t wanna hear any excuses, shut your big mouth or I’ll shove my dick so far down your throat you’ll lose your damn voice.” That was creative, I have to give him credit, even if he is being horribly dramatic, not even letting me speak, though I guess he expects me to egg him on, which is fair, because I probably would have if he gave me the chance. He’s being rough, shoving his thigh up into me a little too hard, teeth pulling at the skin of my throat, his hand shoving its way up my shirt to toy with a nipple, pinching and rolling it between his thumb and forefinger, his dry laugh coming in response to my back arching to try and escape the rough treatment. “Don’t try ‘n run away… You love this shit, probably soaking your slutty fuckin’ panties over it, yeah?” It's easier, pretending to hate each other, keeping a safe distance from the truth, both of us all too aware whatever sick "Stress Relief" bull is going on between us is just an excuse to be close in a way we probably shouldn't. I turn my head away, avoiding his accusing eyes peering up at me, his hand pressing mine harder into the wall before releasing them, expecting me to keep them overhead, which I do, not wanting to incur more of his wrath than I already have. “There you go, now if you’d just sit this pretty and listen all the time I’d have no reason to get so rough…” His hand trails down, working my pants while the other plays with my nipple, hurting me, only a little, his lips softer on my skin, offering a sweet contrast he knows I’m a fan of.

“Le- Here?” I’m not supposed to speak, but this isn’t exactly a great location, some dusty, dirt-floored catacombs under the city we’re meant to be ridding of B.O.W’s. He pulls back, tilting his head to get a look at my face, my head turned away from him, eyes meeting his from the side, his look a little amused, still pissed, the tension of my near mishap keeping his body tight, all his worry for me, mine for him, protection all we're really able to offer each other in the way of affection, other than sex, which is never very loving, always under the guise of hate, annoyance, some made up shit that's lost its validity over time.

“You’re tellin’ me you don’t want it? Yeah right, that look you’re givin’ me is sure making it seem like you do, your slutty ass would do it anywhere, never pass up the chance to get some dick.” He grips my jaw, making me look at him, my head tilted up, his quick breaths puffing hot air into my face, all movement pausing for a few seconds as he looks at me, angry, but pensive, making sure I’m into this before sinking back into the aggression he’s usually so careful to hide. “Go ahead, tell me, wanna hear you fuckin’ say it, tell me you need my dick just as bad as I need your perfect fuckin’ pussy.” I planned not to indulge him this time, I really did, but I truly can’t deny him, we’re the same, and there’ve been plenty of times I’ve gone off the rails, and he’s never minded, just gave me what I needed to calm back down, usually in the form of a few orgasms.

“Okay, yeah.” He doesn’t find that satisfactory, just looks at me some more, eyes narrowed, shoulders hunched with uncomfortable tension, his anger at my actions mostly unwarranted, but also a little endearing, one of the things that lets me know he cares a lot more than he lets on. He doesn’t move, just watches me, waiting on a better response, his free hand up under my shirt, pinching my nipple, prompting me to respond a little quicker. “Shit-! I want you, okay? Just, stop-!” He lets go, smoothing his thumb over the sensitive flesh before pushing my shirt higher, up over my breasts, leaving it bunched up, the cool air underground making me shiver.

“Like I said, slutty.” He kisses me, grinding his hard dick into me as he shoves at my pants, letting them pool at my feet, not giving me any room to get them off, length of his body pressed to mine, his hands on my hip and the side of my neck, mine still held above my head, my arms hurting a little from being in this position so long. “Such a… Dirty bitch… Letting me fuck you like this…” He’s a little breathless, huffing into my mouth between kisses, his hips grinding into me making me feverish, his lips rough and covered in spit. “You’d probably love it if I shoved your face into the dirt… made you look just as dirty as you act… Probably cum so hard you’d start crying for me…” He groans, hooking his hands around the backs of my thighs and lifting, all the way up until he can rest my legs over his shoulders, my pants fallen to the ground in the process. “That can wait, wanna get a taste of your sweet pussy first, make you feel so good you’ll listen to me from now on.” He presses his nose and lips into me, inhaling, his eyes falling closed, my hands rested on the top of my head, arms burning too bad to keep them held up. “Fuck, you’re hot, too bad you’re so goddamn annoying…” He keeps his eyes closed, mouthing at me through my underwear, sucking and groaning and squeezing his hands on my hips, offering a little pain when his nails dig in.

“Should probably take those off, yeah?” He pulls back, lifting his head to look up at me, frowning, pulling back from the wall a little too suddenly, holding me up when my upper body falls back from the loss of support.

“Put your hands behind your back.” I look at him, waiting a few seconds before following his command, eager to get him to make me feel good, even if it means not using my hands, which are unnecessary, he can get me off perfectly fine on his own. “There… Now shut your pretty fuckin’ mouth until I’m ready to stick my dick in it, keep running your trap and you won’t cum at all, I’ll edge you until I get bored and leave you soaked and unsatisfied.” I don’t say anything, just shake my head, my unamused look drawing a rough laugh out of him before he presses me back to the wall, the rock digging uncomfortably into my bare arms, his face pressing into my panties a helpful distraction from the roughness scraping at my skin. “You taste so damn good… Such a good girl when you wanna be, wish you’d stay like this, listen this well all the damn time…” He sneaks his hand around, pulling my panties to the side, his eyes cast down at my surely soaked privates, his tongue swiping over his lips at the sight. “Want you to sit still and take it, none of that squirming shit you like to pull, got it?” I nod, letting my head lean back, his tongue against me wet and warm, trailing slick up to my clit before lapping at it, his eyes peering up at me, one of his thumbs rubbing tentatively at my hole.

The rock is hurting me, but I don’t say anything, afraid he’ll make good on his promise to leave me needy, his tongue against me too good to risk losing. I let out a low sigh when he presses his forefinger inside, easing me open, his lips closing over my clit and sucking harshly, a little painful when his teeth graze my sensitive flesh, my thighs trembling lightly from the harshness of it all. He pulls his face back when I really start to shake, looking up at me and easing another finger inside, being more gentle than usual, watching my face as he works them into me, a shaky breath pulling from his lips when I meet his eyes.

“There you go, making me wait so damn long… Keep those eyes on me, yeah? Wanna see the look on your face when I make you cum…” He’s speeding his fingers up, being a little rougher, squelching sounds a little too loud in the quiet of the catacombs, thumb of his working hand pressed hard to my clit, unmoving, just applying deliciously painful pressure to my overly sensitive nerves, making me squirm, needy and hot and shaky from the intensity of his touch. “Lucky I even give a shit if you’re ready, you’d probably love it if I shoved inside without stretching you out first, always ready for some dick, huh?” I let out a low whine, embarrassment settling in my gut making me feel almost sickly, his fingers fucking into me roughly, pressing hard to my g-spot, my legs twitching around him, hips held still from seeking friction against his thumb to send myself over the edge.

“Le- Please-” He stops, completely, goes still and stares at me, holding down his smile when I squirm, nails digging harshly into my hip making me grimace.

“Dirty bitch, can’t even wait for it, huh? Being nice and making your stupid ass cum, and you can’t even follow a couple directions.” He breathes a long sigh, hot air fanning over me making me flinch, his eyes cast up toward me, judging, looking down on me, even if he is below me. “You want it?” I nod, unsure if speaking would be a wise choice, since it nearly just got my orgasm privileges revoked, his lips quirking up making me wary, unsure about what he’s planning. He moves quickly, dropping my legs from his shoulders and letting me fall down onto my feet, the rock ripping the skin of my arms forcing a pained noise out of me, his expression going softer, my legs swept out from under me before I’m laid out on the floor, on my back, looking up at him looming over me. “I’ll clean you all up when we’re done, okay?” I nod, not minding the stinging of the cuts along the backs of my arms, more than used to the feeling of broken skin, not willing to give up on getting some relief to get the wounds taken care of. “Didn’t think, you c’n dig those nails into my back, make us match…” He sinks to his knees, slotting his legs underneath mine, looking at my face as he presses his fingers back inside, his free hand reaching for mine, holding them down on my stomach, humming in approval when his fingers make me moan, my hips shifting uncomfortably from how rough he’s being, his thumb finally moving against my clit, offering light pleasure to offset the tension he’s caused, my body wound tight, shaking and struggling against him, whining a little too loud when I feel my orgasm coming, the sound cut off by his hand closing over my mouth, shoving my head to the side and smearing my cheek into the dirt. “Shut the fuck up, being so damn loud the fuckers above ground’ll hear, so fuckin’ needy, so easy, nasty fuckin’ slut, go ahead, give me what I want, cum for me, squeeze my fuckin’ fingers and- shit, there you go, be fuckin’ quiet, stupid bitch, you look so good, open your eyes, yeah, keep ‘em on me…” He works me back down, pulling his fingers out and rubbing my clit until I come down, then a little after, making me whine, any attempts to escape stopped by rough hands.

“Le, please-” He doesn’t stop, just holds me still and works his finger against me, watching me, enjoying himself. “Hey, please- just- let me suck your-Nnh- dick-!” It hurts, my legs shaking, whole body tight with pleasure, not getting a break between orgasms making me terribly sensitive, and he knows it, pressing too hard, making it hurt a little more than it has to.

“In a minute, you’re not done yet, not fucked out enough, want you crying by the time I’m done, sobbing on my dick.” I groan, letting him continue, not that I have much of a choice, his strong hands holding me down, forcing me toward another orgasm less than a minute after my first, nearly there, my body feeling hazy, warm with the pleasure he’s giving me, only a little too much, the perfect amount of painful. “You can take it, yeah? Course you can, you’re fuckin’ loving it, ready to cum again, such a good girl…” He presses my face to the dirt when I moan, twisting my neck a little further than what’s comfortable, smearing my face with soft soil, my eyes clamped shut, insides closed tight around his fingers, my orgasm a duller pleasure, his words spoken from lips close to my ear as he leans over me. “See? I know you need it, wanna be so fucked out you can’t think, I’ll give you a break, make sure my dick’s the only thing on your mind.” He pulls his hand away, running it up my stomach to turn my head back forward, his head pulling back to look into my face, messy and wet with sweat and maybe a little drool. “So pretty, you look good all messy for me… Still wanna suck my dick?” I moan, letting him pull me up onto my knees, brain hazy as I come down from my orgasm, confusion settling when he walks around behind me, gathering my hands, soreness on my wrists making me groan, something tied tight around them holding them there.

“Hey, what’re you-”

“Let’s not pretend you don’t like this shit, shut your slutty ass up and let me take care of you.” He comes back around, looking huge above me, a hand caressing my jaw, softness unexpected after the roughness I’ve endured the past few minutes, his expression almost loving, gazing down at me as he takes care of his pants, kicking them and his underwear off to the side, gripping his dick and staring at me.

“Are you gonna-”

“Shit- Fucking stop talking, jesus.” He’s acting exasperated, as if my voice is insanely grating or something, which I know isn’t true, he’s told me on multiple occasions I have a pretty voice, even if I apparently am terribly annoying. He presses his dick to my cheek, heaving a sigh and looking at me, eyes low, enjoying the sight. “Can’t fucking believe how well you take this… ‘s almost the size of your fuckin’ face, but I guess you do have a big ass mouth…” He pulls back, pressing the head to my lips, sliding himself inside when I part them, holding me still by my hair so he can fuck into my mouth, something I thoroughly enjoy, even if it does keep me from breathing. “Gonna let me fuck your pretty face? Yeah? I’ll bet, you look so fucked, so ready for it… Gonna move you, work this slutty throat on my dick…” He drags me away by my hair, hurting me a little with his grip, stinging my scalp, his hips moving, sinking him almost fully into my mouth, gagging me, the ‘gup gup gup’ of him pushing into my throat making him groan, head tilted back and all, his hands on either side of my head pulling me into his thrusts. “Goddamn… So good at this, so-God- tight for me, look so fuckin’ good with your hands behind your back, so slutty for me, right baby?” I moan around him, eyes hazy with tears, wetness streaming down my face as I let him thrust into my mouth, choking me, not giving me a second to breath, his noises getting a little whinier as he goes. “Love when you suck my dick, ‘s the only-Nnh- fuckin’ time you’re quiet, only time I don’t wanna-hah- wanna- Fuck-!” He groans, loud, shoving himself completely inside, staying there, keeping me from breath I’m desperate for, whiny, choked moans vibrating against him making him twitch before he pulls out, all the way, his dick soaked in spit connected to my lips, my head held up by his hands as I heave in some oxygen, gasping and panting, a hand smoothing over my hair as I calm down. “Ready to cum again? You know I’m not getting off unless it’s with your perfect fuckin’ pussy milking me.”

“Yeah…Yes…” I let out a dazed moan, not minding when he presses my face down into the dirt, cheek cool against the floor, my ass up in the air, presented for him, back arched a little harder than I like, hands uncomfortable behind my back, cut up and in an odd position.

“Fuck you look good, so fuckin’ hot, gonna fuck you so damn good…” He pushes inside, all the way, holding onto my bound hands to keep me from pulling away, one of his feet planted beside my knee, the opposite knee out of my sight, just behind me, giving him the stability to thrust into me, setting a quick pace, already worked up, ready to get me off and empty inside. “You feel so good, being so good for me, gonna let me cum inside, fill you to the fuckin’ brim, hope to god we don’t- fuck-!” He’s struggling, pressing his thumb to my clit to hurry my orgasm along, my mind filled with fuzzy pleasure, low moans and whines leaving me as he fucks into me, bouncing me on his dick, hitting my cervix and hurting me, but I don’t mind, as long as he keeps going, letting me feel full, keeps me distracted a little longer. “Shut-Ah- be fuckin’ quiet-! Being so damn loud, sound so-Nnh- pretty, sobbing for it, want my cum that bad? Fuckin’ shit…” He’s slamming into me, pulling me into him by my bound hands, whatever he’s tied me up with painful on my bruised wrists, the sounds of skin to skin filling the empty corridor, echoing obscenely, both of us too loud, too turned on to worry about consequences for the time being. “Can’t take much more, hurry up and-hah- squeeze this pretty pussy on me, be a good slut and cum for-Ah- me-!” I’m nearly there, his thumb working relentlessly against me, my legs shaky and unstable, the pain of his grip on my wrists pulling me up out of the dirt, giving him a better angle to press inside, his pace insanely quick, deep, sure to make me sore tomorrow, a low groan leaving my lips when he pulls me into him by my wrists, my upper body suspended in the air, tearful eyes staring down into the dirt my face was just pressed into.

“Le- shit-! Leon, hurts-Nnh- You’re-ah-!” I can’t talk, just give up and let him do what he wants, my orgasm nearly there, my body almost too overstimulated to register it, legs shaking so hard he’s holding me up with a hand on my lower stomach.

“You like it, just-nngh- take it, like it so fuckin’ much you’re crying for it, whiny bitch, so-ah- fuckin’ annoying, complaining even when I-Shit- give you exactly what you- you want. Shit, you’re fuckin’ cumming, good girl, so good, shut the fuck-ah- up-! So-hnn- stupid, lucky I love you-Nnh- so goddamn much-!” I’m nearly unresponsive, just taking what he gives, my orgasm hazy and warm, but his confession brings me back, draws a needy moan out of me, which prompts him to press fully inside, twitching and filling me with warmth, the feeling euphoric, filling some primitive desire in my head. “Shit-! Such a good-Nnh-! You make me cum so fucking hard, filling this sweet pussy so good…” He pulls me upright, sat backward in his lap, his dick grinding into me, cum dripping out of me as he comes down, speaking and kissing at the dirty side of my face and neck. “Fuck… such a good partner… my pretty girl… taking it so well… Cumming so much it’s making a goddamn mess…” He groans, letting his head slump down onto my shoulder, keeping himself seated inside, one hand moving to release my bound wrists, rubbing the tension out of them, caring, soft in a way he usually doesn’t let anyone see, kept quiet and buried beneath his carefree, unbothered persona. “Should probably take care of these now…” He runs his fingers over the torn skin of my arms, stinging the wounds, but I let him, turning to peer at him over my shoulder, waiting a beat, speaking only once his eyes meet mine.

“You love me?”

#re smut #leon kennedy smut #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #older leon kennedy #idiots in love #hate sex #angry smut

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partially-controlled-chaos · 4 months

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Come Back to Me pt. 3

Pairing: Astarionxf!Tav

Rating: M

Warnings: Hurt/angst, comfort, trauma, fluff, trauma, soft jealous Astarion

Summary: After an attack in the Shadow Cursed Lands, Tavriel is exposed to the toxins of fear inducing mushroom spores, causing her already weakened mind to relive the traumatic horrors of her past. Astarion and Halsin are forced to work quickly to cure her mind of the spores before the effects remain with her permanently.

Also read on AO3! Check there for more frequent updates because I sometimes forget to also post them here.

I also recommend reading my previous fic for some backstory on my Tav! Not totally necessary, but if you’d like some backstory you can find it here!

Masterlist

Come Back to Me: Part 1, Part 2, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6

Astarion was quietly seething as he followed behind the druid, his face knitted into a tight scowl as he stepped across jagged rocks and fallen tree branches. Of all people he could be paired with on this excursion, it just had to be Halsin. He had lingered around Last Light just briefly, too consumed with worry after hearing Tavriel’s horror filled screams, while the rest of the group had already sectioned off into teams of two, leaving Astarion with Halsin as a companion. He already had a grudge against Halsin for being a threat to his relationship with Tavriel, but he also fully blamed Halsin for Tavriel being as sick as she was. If he had been a better companion, he would have kept her safe. This, of course, was simply a deflection of Astarion’s own feelings of being incompetent for Tavriel because he let her go out to begin with.

“Do you see anything, Astarion?” Halsin called back to him as he swept a torch across the landscape, “Have you found any black oleander?”

“If I had don’t you think I would have said something?” The vampire spawn sneered, his lip upturned into a snarl.

“You’ve just been unusually quiet,” Halsin said as they continued, “I was making sure you hadn’t stumbled across something. You’re sure you know what you’re looking for?”

“Of course I do! I may not be rolling around outside all day like you, but I’m not dim witted enough to not know what we’re looking for.” Truthfully, Astarion hadn’t known what black oleander even was until a few days ago, but he wouldn’t dare admit it, “And I’m not in a particularly chatty mood. My mind happens to be on other, more important, things than idle chit chat and niceties.”

“I will not blame you for your anger, Astarion. You’re worried about Tavriel. You’re a bonded pair, are you not?” Halsin asked with a laugh, taking no offense to the snippy remarks coming from the elf.

“I would be a fool to not be worried about her. She’s the only thing that actually keeps this little band together. If something happens to her, well, we’d all be lost.” Astarion’s voice had softened slightly. The thought of actually losing Tavriel felt like a knife to the chest. He’d finally found something and someone to give a damn about and the idea of her being taken down by a patch of mushrooms felt like a cruel joke sent by the gods as a continued punishment.

“Is that all you’re worried about? If she can continue to serve a purpose?” Halsin shot a sideways glance to Astarion, surprised at his response. He had seen the way Astarion would look and speak with Tavriel and it was painfully clear he had some inclination of feelings for her, so the abrupt cut to how she was useful was odd.

“No. Don’t be stupid. If you had let me finish I would have answered your question.” He snapped, “We are, if you’re so interested in knowing, but I’d like to keep the spicy little details to myself, thank you.”

“I am, actually, it’s something I wanted to speak to you about.” Halsin said as he stepped to the side of the path they were on, his eyes scanning for the plant they were after, “Look, over there off the trail, there’s a small patch of oleander.” Astarion followed the druid into the small patch of plants, being mindful not to step on the few precious ones they had managed to find.

Astarion’s stomach was suddenly in knots, Halsin’s statement setting him on edge. He was already afraid of losing Tavriel to Halsin. After all, Halsin did seem much more compatible than he did at fulfilling Tavriel’s needs and desires. When compared to the druid, Astarion felt inferior. Halsin had his share of trauma in his past he was sure, but whatever it was, it couldn’t come close to the baggage he was bringing in his relationship to Tavriel. Centuries of using sex and deception to lure unsuspecting victims to the Szarr palace only to surrender them as a quick meal for his master certainly must have weight heavily on Tav, would it not? His trauma was so similar to Tavriel’s that he was always afraid that his past and hesitations would be unwelcome reminders of her own life of misery.

But of course, Astarion knew that it didn’t end there. He and Tavriel were so fundamentally different that he was surprised she had shared his enthusiasm for wanting a real relationship all those months ago. After all, he was bitter and mean spirited, not often caring about the well being of others. Purely selfish actions for purely selfish reasons had always been his style and he genuinely didn’t see that changing anytime soon. Tavriel, on the other hand, had displayed selfish actions herself when they first met, later admitting she had engaged in a romance with Astarion for the same reasons he had. With that aside, Tavriel was generally a good hearted person who had unselfish actions for unselfish reasons. They were polar opposites and yet had somehow found themselves attracted to each other through a history of trauma bonding and a mind flayer tadpole wiggling about their brains.

But Halsin? Halsin was a good man. He had spent a century of putting his own needs and desires aside to address the issue of the Shadow Curse. He was kind, especially to Tavriel, always greeting her with a warm smile and friendly embrace. He truly cherished her friendship and the help she had so selflessly offered to him, a total stranger. Astarion knew Halsin had an attraction to her, he could see it all over his face whenever Tavriel came bounding over to him with that pretty smile on her lips he oh, so adored. Halsin had the capacity to understand Tavriel in ways that Astarion couldn’t even fathom. They both had an innate connection to nature and if anyone could help her regain the connection she had lost in captivity, it wouldn’t take a scholar to know that Halsin was clearly the better match.

“Grab as much as you can, we’ll need more for the remedy to be fully effective, but we should collect all of this if something goes wrong.” Halsin said as he crouched, using his torch to illuminate the area and chase away any lingering shadows. Astarion also crouched to the ground, quickly cutting and securing the richly purple plants into his travel pouch.

“You’re sure this isn’t enough? How complex is this concoction of yours?”

“No,” Halsin said as he pulled the last plant from the cursed land, “we’ll need more. She needs a potent dose if we intend to cure her fully.” This made Astarion’s heart drop once again. Halsin had been so calm leading up to this point, making Astarion believe that despite Tavriel’s behavior, curing her would be seemingly simple.

“…She’s worse than you’re letting on, isn’t she?” Astarion asked quietly as they continued their search for black oleander.

“I didn’t want to alarm the others, the last thing we need is for everyone to be in a blind panic, but yes, I am worried. I’ve seen many friends and allies fall victim to the spores, but I’ve never seen them set in so quickly. We will truly need the Oak Father’s blessing if this is to work.” Astarion gripped his torch tightly at Halsin’s confession, his pace quickening as his eyes desperately scanned the ground for more of the plants. They had to hurry and collect what they needed to return to Tav. He could only pray that his companions also found their plants and herbs with haste.

“There, by those rocks, I see much more.” Astarion pointed to a cluster of large rocks, their base littered with the plants he so desperately wanted to find. The two men wasted no time in gathering more of the herbs, pausing only briefly to scan their surroundings as shrieks from the shadows kicked up. Deeming there was no longer a threat, they continued ripping the plants from the ground.

“What did you want to discuss with me? About Tavriel?” Astarion asked after a few moments of silence, his mind unable to let the comment leave his mind.

“I was curious about your feelings towards her, and ultimately your relationship, because I wanted to know if I should ask for your consent.” Astarion froze, hands unmoving as he held a firm grip on the base of an oleander plant.

“My consent?” he asked through gritted teeth and fangs, “Consent for what, exactly?”

“For something more.” Halsin said calmly, “To go beyond the fabric of a simple alliance and friendship and into something more…intimate. If you would be all right with that, of course. I wish not to step on any toes.”

“Are you asking me if she could cast me aside? And replace my spot with you? Is that what you’re saying?” Astarion’s voice almost went up an octave as he felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him, his worst fears regarding Tavriel materializing in front of him.

“Of course not, that is not my intention. I mean to join the two of you, if you would be open to it, and carry on a union as nature intended. Without the restrictions of societal norms and expectations for a relationship to only be two people. Tavriel is extraordinary, a true delight and a kind soul, and she has unknowingly shaken me to my core. I would like to share, not take away. But if anything were to happen, I would need your approval. Whether you personally want to join us or not is up to you, depending on what you are comfortable with, and her as well. You have become her mate, so to speak, and I would not wish to intrude if it’s not something you are comfortable with.” Halsin had paused his plant collection, taking the time to look at Astarion carefully as he spoke, wanting to broach the subject without seeming too nonchalant about it.

“Not now, of course, I must finish the matter of the Shadow Curse before I can even begin to entertain such notions, but I wanted to put my offer on the table, figuratively speaking. So my intentions are not misunderstood by either of you. I had begun to run this by Tavriel right before we were attacked.” Astarion’s mind was spinning. This was something he had been fearing for a long time, but was also something he had hoped was only a deep rooted fear that would never come to fruition. And yet, here he was, kneeling in dirt beside the man that could easily take away his entire world.

Astarion didn’t care about a persons sexual preference or how they wanted to be in a relationship, it didn’t matter to him. Halsin wanting a multi-partner relationship wasn’t what was so upsetting to him. What was potentially world shattering, however, is that Halsin wanted to be in a multi-partner relationship with the one person Astarion wanted to be selfish about. He had finally found someone he could be free and open with. He was comfortable around Tavriel, relished in her kindness and warmth, and he wanted to keep that all to himself. He felt a burning rage deep inside at the thought of someone else knowing her intimately. The idea of someone else feeling her kind and gentle lips pressing against various parts of their body made him squirm. Or, which could arguably be his worst fear, if she experiences mind blowing, back arching, shaking, orgasmic pleasure from someone who wasn’t him. He didn’t fully appreciate their moments of passion when they first met, having only done it to secure protection, but he was beginning to once again open up to the idea and he didn’t want anyone else to dip into that fantasy. Astarion wanted to be unapologetically selfish with the first genuinely good thing to come into his life. However, if Tavriel felt otherwise and wanted more than what he alone could offer, he wouldn’t stop her. She had been through as much pure hell as he had and he would feel wrong if he kept her from being truly happy for the simple sake of him wanting to keep her to himself.

“And what did she say? What was her answer to your little question?” Astarion could feel his hands begin to shake, genuinely terrified of what Halsin might say next.

“She didn’t,” Halsin said plainly as he continued to pull plants, “we were attacked before she could respond. I couldn’t tell you her answer, it’s something that will have to be addressed after she is cured.”

“Well,” Astarion said after some silence, “I have absolutely no intentions of joining in on your little group party. However, if Tavriel wishes to join your side as well as mine, I won’t stop her. She deserves to be happy, the world hasn’t been kind to her if you didn’t know, and I will not be the one thing that stands in her way.”

“If you truly mean it, my heart is happy and appreciative. Again, this will not be something that happens soon, I have more important things that need to be taken care of than desires of the flesh, but the offer will always be open to you. I will talk to Tavriel again once she is better. That should be our first priority, curing her.” Halsin stood as he and Astarion picked the last of the plants that were needed for the remedy, “Let’s return to the inn, we have what we came for. May the Oak Father guide the others back as well with a fruitful harvest.”

The two men set off towards Last Light without another word spoken between them. Halsin was walking with a purpose, eager to return to the inn and get the remedy for the fear spores in the pot. Astarion, who was also rushing to return to Tavriel, was distraught. He was thankful they were able to find the required items without much hassle, but the potential of losing Tavriel in more ways than one was sitting heavily on his mind. He desperately wanted to know what Tavriel’s answer to Halsin’s offer would have been. He wanted to know what she was thinking and where her heart was going. He hurriedly walked to the inn with Halsin, his fingers digging into his palm as he walked.

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“We have everything.” Halsin said as he and the rest of the party filed in the front door of Last Light Inn and handed their collected ingredients to the arch druid, “Give me a few moments to brew these into a tea. I’ll bring it up to her when it’s done. Can someone check on her? I no longer hear her and it’s concerning.” Astarion wasted no time in departing from the group, practically flying up the stairs in the process. If his heart could beat, it would be pounding in his ears. When they had left the inn, Tavriel could be heard from the courtyard. But now? There was silence.

Astarion gently pressed his ear to the door of the bed chambers he shared with Tavriel, listening for any sounds from inside, but was met with an uncomfortable silence. He tried the handle, finding it had been locked from the inside, presumably to slow Tav down if she tried to dart out the door in her altered state. After a soft knock, Lae’zel opened the door, cautiously glancing back to Tavriel to be sure she didn’t charge the door before allowing Astarion in. He quickly slipped inside, making sure to secure the door behind him. The state of the room caught him off guard, making him freeze on the spot as he surveyed the damage.

Jagged fingernail marks along the wooden floor, books that had been thrown across the room, the center carpet was crumpled and shoved to the side, and even broken glass from a wine bottle that had been smashed against a wall. Astarion had cleaned the room before Tavriel and Halsin returned, wanting her to return to a safe space, but the work was undone seemingly by Tavriel herself. Small spots of Tavriel’s blood were scattered across the room, dripping from her destroyed fingertips and other scratches she had inflicted upon herself. Tavriel herself was seated in the center of the room, resting on her knees and shins, her hands pressed to the floor as her arms struggled to support her upper body. She was mostly silent, the only sounds being emitted where slow shallow breaths and the occasional whimper. Her eyes were half lidded, ready to close at any given moment and succumb to a deep sleep. Her mind and body were absolutely exhausted from her actions and Astarion feared that she wouldn’t have the strength to fight the spores much longer.

“How long has she been like this?” Astarion asked as Lae’zel returned to her previous spot on the floor across from Tavriel.

“Not very long. She’s been scrambling about and destroying anything she could find until a few moments ago. She’s weakening. Did you find the herbs?” Lae’zel asked hopefully.

“Yes, thankfully,” Astarion said as he crouched, trying to get a closer look at Tavriel’s face, “Halsin is preparing a remedy now.” He reached out carefully, almost afraid she may snap at his fingers. He gently placed his hand under her chin, lifting her heavy head until her fully clouded eyes met his gaze. Tavriel’s face was stained with tears and her skin was hot to the touch, even for his perpetually cool fingers.

She looked as if she was a step from death’s door and Astarion felt his chest ache. He felt so unbelievably helpless, unable to do anything to help his love from slipping away. He was reliant on someone else for her salvation, and the idea made him sick to his stomach. Over the years under Cazador’s control, Astarion only ever needed to rely on himself to stay as safe as a vampire spawn could be. Relying on someone was a weakness and it took the little bit of control he did have away from him. The feeling here was no different. Having to rely on Halsin to get a working antidote into Tavriel before everything was too late made him uneasy and on edge. With a slight delay, Tavriel pulled her head from Astarion’s light grasp, the movement making her lose her balance and falter in her stance. She landed on her forearms with a soft grunt, her legs sliding out from underneath her until she was almost face down on the floor. She weakly tried to back away, the voices in her head still screaming that she was in danger, but her body wouldn’t allow her to move. Instead, she rested on her arms and took more labored breaths.

“Where in the hells is the damn druid?” Astarion hissed as he sat back, his anger caused by his inability to actually help started to seep out.

“I will check on him. Stay with her, she seems to have calmed down enough.” Lae’zel stood without another word, quickly exiting the room to speak with Halsin, leaving Astarion and Tavriel to themselves. They sat in silence, Tavriel too weak to say anything and Astarion too afraid of driving her further into madness with his touch or voice. He dug his nails into his palm again as he clenched his fist closed, feeling more and more incompetent the more time that passed.

“Tell me what to do, love.” He whispered as Tavriel let out a small groan as she shifted again, “Tell me how to help you. I don’t know what to do. I need you to come back to me, but tell me how. You promised me you would come back, my love, you promised.” Tears began to well in his eyes, threatening to fall down his face as he watched her writhe in pain and mental agony. Tavriel’s body ached from slamming into doors and scratching her fingers raw. The scars that adorned her body were throbbing, feeling as if they were being made for the first time again. Her breathing quickened as fire seemed to be burning through the scars on her shoulder blades, the pain almost unbearable as her mind twisted and warped, forcing her to relive that horrible night. With a sudden burst of energy, she sat up, almost throwing herself backwards as her hands reached over her shoulders to claw at the marks on her back, her armor thankfully keeping her from digging into the flesh. She tried her best to scream at the memory, but her voice was raw and hoarse, causing only more discomfort.

“Godsdamn it, Cazador was right, you are useless. Pathetic. Weak. You can’t save her.” Astarion thought to himself as the tears forming came dangerously close to falling. His insecure thoughts came flooding back with full force, further twisting the pain settling in his dead heart. He didn’t know what to do or how to save her by himself. She deserved so much better care than what she was getting from him. She deserved someone that wasn’t weak and cowering, afraid to even touch her when she was begging for help. He truly believed he didn’t deserve someone as wonderful and extraordinary as Tavriel and she deserved someone so much better. She deserved someone would keep her safe and satisfied. Halsin was downstairs now, making a concoction that would ease her mind and suffering, something that can heal her. He immediately knew what needed to be done to save her, where to go, what plants were needed, and how to sew those plants into something useful. Halsin could protect her. Halsin could keep her safe. And yet, here was Astarion, sitting as still as a stone as his lover screamed in agony and fear. His vile thoughts continued to bombard his mind as he sat and watched Tavriel suffer.

Astarion was frozen with fear, truly not knowing what to do to help. He was afraid to touch her, fearing that his touch would alight her skin more and cause more suffering. The tears that lined his eyes finally betrayed him, sliding down his cheeks as Tavriel’s own sobs assaulted his ears. She was trembling, her entire body almost convulsing as she continued to rake her sore and bloodied fingers across the armor. She was frenzied in her movements, completely unrecognizable as the Tavriel that Astarion had grown to love. Against his own trepidations, he reached out with a shaking arm, hoping that making contact with her could pull her from the memory. However, the moment was short lived and his extended hand came back to clutch at his own head, which was now swimming with an uncomfortable twinge. The tadpole swimming around in his brain had made contact with the one infecting Tavriel, linking their minds. Astarion’s consciousness was thrust into the absolute chaos that was swimming in Tavriel’s fracturing mind, allowing him to see inside her memories and granting him access to the nightmare she was reliving.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #astarion #tav #astarion x female tav #astarion x tav #spawn astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion fanfiction #fanfic #halsin #named tav

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theknightmarket · 2 months

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"We've made it this far."

In which the Engineer and the captain are released from the effects of the wormhole, as they've always wanted. TW: cursing, angst, slight reference to gore Pages: 26 - Words: 9,500

[Requests: OPEN]

“Please, just hold on.”

After dying so many times, it was weird to be on the edge of it. You’d tossed yourself off the cliff enough to memorize the feeling of falling, of becoming weightless and letting everything go – like a kind of acceptance, even if you were going not of your own volition. It had always been okay, though, because you’d come back seconds later, spat back up from a raging ocean with salt and spray into the arms of that cryo-pod.

“I can get you out of here, don’t worry, I can do it.”

But this time, you were looking down, your feet on the ground and the water seeming so far away. You had to make the choice now, of staying on that crumbling cliff, battled by the wind, and forced to stare straight at the fate you were faced with, or letting your feet shift and lose traction.

“Come on, please, I know you can do it.”

In theory, it was an easy decision, but you didn’t want to have to work for it anymore. You had done the hard part, the surviving at the peak, and now, you knew that this would be the last time. It wasn’t as though you could take a step back; you would always be watching the tips of the waves snap at you. You didn’t want to watch anymore.

You croaked out a simple, “Mark…”

Your faithful engineer, kneeled at your side, likely for the last time. He wasn’t going to fall. He couldn’t.

“No, no, please, don’t do that, just a little longer,” his pleads reached your ears well, but you forced yourself to ignore them, “our medics will be here, just wait.”

“Mark, I can’t.”

“No, you can, you have to!” Guilt tapped at the edge of your mind, you didn’t let it in, and it stayed right where it was. “Please.”

“I’m sorry,” you sighed. You were. You really were.

“Come on, the- the colony haven’t said goodbye, the crew…” His thought went unfinished, but you understood him. You always did, even when he didn’t understand himself. You were half sure he didn’t know what he was saying, the panic and dread overwhelming him in a fight for majority.

You assured him, “They’ll be fine.”

“Not without you.”

“Mark, look,” a cough wracked your upper body like an earthquake, “look at it all, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

You were so damn proud of him, of the whole ship, of everything. You never told him directly, so you could only hope he knew. It would make this whole thing easier if he knew that you were proud of him, that you trusted him. He’d be easier on himself.

“Not far enough! We still have more to do, we- we can’t do it without you. You’re our captain.” A distant memory from just a few days before floated to the forefront of your mind. It was hazy, corrupted by the pain, but it was there. “You’re my captain.”

A deep breath in, as far as the pressure would allow you, before you whispered, “You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

And suddenly you wished that you hadn’t been able to take that breath – that you had stayed silent and let the moment envelop you. The spark of realisation that you cherished in Mark’s eyes dug a pit in your stomach.

“No,” was all you could say with what little energy you had left.

“But—”

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

You couldn’t, he couldn’t, neither of you would be able to handle another round of what you went through together. That quality of stubbornness you both possessed would surely fail you, abandoning you to the madness of eternity, worse if you failed.

“Why not!? I know how to do it, and we know how to fix it.”

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

Shit. That little energy was becoming smaller and smaller, but neither did you have it in you to let Mark create another wormhole. You couldn’t live with yourself if he gave you a second chance.

“I’m not losing you,” you muttered, “and, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

You wanted to laugh, but all that burning the candle at both ends was catching up to you. The numbness that had crept up on your legs hours ago was lurching onto your torso. It wouldn’t be long before it was biting through your arms and neck, and you wouldn’t be aware of it when it reached your temple.

“So, hey, just… just give me this. Please?”

The look in his eyes washed away. Leaving Mark like this was not your plan, but when had the universe ever listened to you? You could be thankful that you hadn’t gone insane in a place lightyears from your home, that Mark was not leaving you. You admitted that it was a selfish thought, but you didn’t think you could keep going if you lost him. You’d fought hard, but now you were done fighting. You knew he could do it for you.

And so did he. It was a cold admittance that he wouldn’t be the one to save you, this time. It felt all too much like giving up on the person who had sacrificed themself time and time again for him. Although it left a poor taste in his mouth – bitter, unwelcome, downright painful – you had proven to be steadfast in your decisions. There was going to be no convincing you.

“I love you.” If Mark was given a do-over, no strings attached, that would not be the first time he was saying it to you, aloud, just the two of you, and it wouldn’t be the last.

And maybe he would have gotten to hear it from you just once.

Your final breath cascaded against his knees, a waterfall that seemed eons from growing dry but dripped slowly into the grave it dug for itself. There was no sound, no last rites read, except for the heartbroken sob that broke free from Mark’s chest, echoing around the cavern walls.

Seeing the sun after so long in space was strange. Of course, you could look out of one of the many windows that Mark had installed and see a sun, but to stand in the rays of light from the sun of this galaxy? It made you want to brush off your duties, it made you want to throw your jacket off and run into the forest, it…

It made you miss Earth.

After exploring space for so long, you were always surprised that, wherever you landed, you felt homesick in the bottom of your stomach. The feeling slept when you were in transit and reared its head when you started to set up a colony, but it never truly disappeared after that. Hell, not even the visits back to your birth planet fixed the issue. The best thing you came up with was bringing little pieces along for the ride.

But you didn’t have the time to reminisce. Just as you’d mentioned earlier, you had a colony to establish, and it was well on its way already. A dozen sectors sketched out, concrete paths linking each one to the other. There were still a majority of people left in their cryo-chambers, those that weren’t necessary for building or planning, who were being looked after by Celci. Gunther was on observation for threats – a duty he often groaned about – and Bert was waxing poetic while the rudimentary power generators were being built. So far, everything was looking good. As in, nothing was going to blow up immediately and force you back on that ship.

No, instead, there you were. Standing in front of your growing colony, the sun glinting off the metal of the parked ship, your feet on the ground of a healthy, new planet. How could you not let a prideful smile work its way onto your face underneath the helmet you had yet to take off? You had made it, and, if you squinted, you could practically see the bustling city this place would become. Stores on one end of the street, restaurants on the other, further down would be a sector of houses with a public park and a fountain. Young families would walk to their parents’ house, the group of teenagers would have no problem just talking to each other during dark nights, old lovers would duck from the rain into shaded alleyways to share one last kiss before heading home for a warm bath.

You caught the eye of your head engineer leaning against the head of the ship.

And not that you knew it, you had also caught his eye, only that was a gross underestimation. Mark had been with you every step of the way on the ship, he’d seen what you could do, what you had done to save the crew and colonists. You’d long ago seized his admiration, and, soon after that, his affection, leading to where he stood in that moment; watching you as you ordered everything that needed to be done to be done, waiting for his own set of instructions that he would carry out perfectly.

Until you made eye contact with him, smiled, and then began to walk away. Mark’s feet were moving before he could process what was happening, and if he started to jog after a few steps, that was between him and the ship wall that he pushed off from. He slid to a stop when he was close enough to you, an unsure half-grin on his face.

“Hey, Captain,” he said as he fell into step beside you.

“Is everything alright, Mark?” was the only reply he got, though that was likely because of his expression more than any doubt you held.

To ease your concern, he tried not to make it too obvious that he was nervous.

“Yeah!” The barely hidden voice crack did not help, but he continued anyway, “Yeah, it is, I mean- is there anything you want me to do?”

Requesting work was difficult for him. Not because he naturally took things easy, but because he had been on his feet for the last he-didn’t-know-how-long. Hours, days, he hoped not weeks. It didn’t feel right to not do anything.

“Why don’t you take the day off?”

Panic struck him like a physical force. He didn’t remember doing anything wrong, you could have still been angry about the whole incident, but he thought everything had been cleared up on the ship’s bridge. Had you already given him a job and he hadn’t been paying attention? Well, could you blame him if he wasn’t?

It was in this train of thought that he realized you were waiting for a response. So, you weren’t mad. That was good.

“Is now the best time?” he asked, “It’s your decision, of course, I just think—”

You stopped short of the next sector, some grid for farming, “Look, you’ve been to hell and back—” and hell and back and hell and back and hell and back, as you were both well aware, “—I think you deserve some time to yourself.”

‘Time to yourself’. He didn’t want time to himself, he wanted… well, he wanted a lot of things and, to put it bluntly, he wanted some time with you, but you weren’t about to take a rest anytime soon, so neither was he.

“And while I appreciate the offer, Captain, there’s a lot to be done that I think is more important than having a break.”

You watched his face for a second, looked up and down as he started to sweat underneath the layers of his uniform. “Repeat that for me.”

“And while I appreciate the offer, Cap...”

His trailing off made clear the realization he came to. You sent him a knowing look, as he groaned like a kid told he couldn’t have another cookie. Of course, it made you smile, too. His dramatics were the highlight of your day when it wasn’t his stubbornness and jokes.

Today, he was vastly leaning into the former. “Only five minutes!” he demanded, scrolling through his arm-piece to set a timer.

“Ten.”

He scrolled slightly further. “Seven.”

“Fifteen.”

And slightly further. “Twelve.”

Your bout of laughter echoed through the trees around you. “You aren’t getting this, are you?” Mark’s arm was tugged away from him as you swiped through the timer yourself. He might have argued about it more if he weren’t so preoccupied with being close enough to kiss you right now if he had the gall to lean that slight bit towards you.

And, you were his captain, obviously, who was he to challenge your authority?

“Take the day off, Mark, and that’s an order from your captain.” You left him with a pat to his shoulder, luckily not noticing the vibrant blush spreading on his face that was too strong to blame the sun for.

He muttered to himself when you were a few steps away, “Pulling rank isn’t fair.” And he was certain that it wasn’t. It was a trump card, some ex-machina that you had no right to use on him.

But he had his own little trick up his sleeve, or, rather, on his belt. You insisted on using some of the old-world commodities, even by Earth standards. The communicator on his hip with the antennae and grating would be his ace in the whole for your dumb day off punishment—

“And no using your walkie!”

“Damn it.”

You were tired. Really tired. You’d slept a day and a half after the whole wormhole incident, and yet here you were, looking at every slightly level surface with literal bedroom eyes. You constantly had to remind yourself to pay attention, but that just made you think about paying attention and not listen to the person you were talking to – who, in this case, was Celci. As such, you were half sure it was important to the whole colony, relying on her reputation, mostly, because again, you weren’t paying attention, and you were actually imagining lying down on that rock you’d seen half an hour ago with the moss and grooves.

You weren’t listening, again.

“Or I could send you the report for you to look over later?”

When you snapped back to reality, you were none the wiser as to what that report was about, but it gave you time to figure it out. “Oh, yeah, that’d be great, Celci, thanks.”

She gave you one look and then asked, “Captain, is everything alright?”

The half grin took most of your energy, so you promptly dropped it when you remembered that she couldn’t see your face. “Am I that obvious?”

“If you need a break, I can go and check the excavation site and one of the techs can do the propane levels. I’m sure I could get Mark—”

You immediately rushed to cut her off, “No, no, I’m fine. I appreciate the thought but I-I’m fine, really.” Jostling your body and comically widening your eyes, you made yourself as presentable as you could with a quarter of your fuel in the tank. You dusted off your suit and cleared the screen of your helmet, extremely thankful for the metal that made it a one-way mirror. “See?”

Celci hummed at you. Not a good sign. She was arguably the most responsible on the ship, and if she thought you were putting yourself through the ringer, she would do everything in her power to get you to relax. The only problem she faced was ranking, and it was the only thing protecting you from being forced into a nap. You had to get away before she could figure out how to circumvent your title.

“C’mon, Celci, don’t you think I know my limits?”

Disapproving silence. Even starting to walk away from her, you knew how little she believed you.

“We only have to get through another three hours of work, and then everyone’ll be able to finish up; myself included.”

“Well, Captain…” And there was the crack you needed. Hesitation.

“Besides, if we get the thermos running, we’ll be able to house some of the colonists and you can focus your efforts on the desert habitation.” That was her little pet project. When you’d scanned the surface, you found two nearby biomes that would barely receive any rain but stayed in the negative fifties for your entire surveillance period. It was backhanded to bait her with the idea, you knew that, but if it got you out of a glorified grounding, you were willing to do it.

Especially since it seemed to work, if Celci’s sigh and hands on her hips were anything to go by.

“Alright, Captain, as long as you finish as soon as the day ends.”

You exchanged a nod with varying degrees of satisfaction with that encounter, before going your separate ways. In fact, you did get a little jolt of energy out of it, as you waltzed along the concrete path. Any thoughts of taking a break were washed out of your mind by the torrent of work you still had left to do; all the sites to check out, all the staff to organize, all the paperwork to send back to the headquarters. The latter was always the worst part, but it was the price you paid for independence on the planet. Free reign was only yours if you played by your boss’ rules.

“Captain!”

Speaking of boss’ rules, as if on cue, Mark jogged to your side from wherever he was before, falling into step quickly next to you. You wouldn’t deny that seeing him gave you another boost of energy, which you immediately used to pat him on the back.

“How’s your break going?”

“I’d rather be doing actual work, but it’s fine. I appreciate it.”

“Good.”

And it was. You were glad he was taking it slow today. He was important to you, and the colony, and you didn’t need your head engineer passing out in the middle of an important task. Or passing out in general. Or doing anything else bad for his health that you could readily prevent.

He appeared alright, for now, although that wasn’t going to get him back on a job just yet. “Actually, I was wondering if—” he started to say, but a crew member cut him off with the crunch of their boots as they rushed towards you from out the surrounding woods.

Their report was normal enough, a few more pieces of information about the excavation site. They’d found another source of aluminum in the caves, which you noted down in case your supplies ran low. Mark waited at your side while you spoke to the person, half-way between listening and grumbling to himself. You couldn’t help but laugh quietly as you dismissed the crew member.

“Sorry, go on,” you said. The pair of you continued to walk, heading nowhere in particular aside from in the vague direction of the housing project.

He did as you prompted, getting out, “Well, I wanted to know—” before someone else called for your attention. Given you were nearing the first constructions of houses, it made sense that a builder caught up to you – despite that, you noticed Mark’s pout as he averted his eyes from the conversation you’d been drawn into. Just a material substitution you needed to sign off on, it was nothing to get worried about, but it was obvious that wasn’t what he was annoyed by.

You gestured with a grin for Mark to continue. Mouth only somewhat open, he paused and looked around, then rounded to your other side to cut you off from the majority of the workers. It was a futile effort, given that you were fast approaching the mass of houses, but it amused you either way. A combination of that drama and humor you were so fond of.

“I think, considering what we went through—” There was barely a crack of a twig in your ten-foot radius when Mark grabbed you by the hand and ran off the path. He didn’t know where he was going, and you definitely didn’t, but you were going regardless. His boots carved a line from the housing district all the way back to the ship. Hardly anyone was there anymore, only a few cryo-techs were loitering around to survey the colonists, so it was his best bet to get you alone, however creepy that made him sound.

You weren’t given time to question him when you eventually skidded to a stop in a quiet area behind the ship itself. Mark was talking even before you caught your breath.

“I think that you should take some time off too because you went through the same things that I did, and, yes, I know you’re the captain, but having some time to recover from it all would be just as good as me taking some time, even better, because you made all the decisions back there, so you should just relax and I have some suggestions for how you can do that.”

By the end of his little speech, neither of you were breathing at a steady rate. You both sucked in as much air as you could handle and then let it go again, minds catching up with the situation. For you, it was processing his words and what he wanted from you – for Mark, it was realizing just what he’d spouted and how utterly unconvincing he was.

It was another challenge to understand that you accepted. “I’m listening,” you said, simply, as if you couldn’t say anything else.

Mark spluttered, not thinking he’d get so far but being so far that he had to continue.

“I say we should take some food packs from storage, find an empty room, and have a proper lunch. We won’t talk about work or duties to be done, or anything else, and we’ll lock the door so nobody will interrupt us.” That last bit came from the depths of his soul, Mark grimacing as he spoke. “The colony will be there when we get back. And, if you think about it, getting some rest will help you make better decisions in the long run.”

“Okay.”

Okay. You’d said okay. You’d okayed it. You were going with his plan. Pride overwhelmed him against his mind’s efforts to keep up with his heart and stomach’s backflips. His body froze in response, giving you the concerning impression that you’d broken him with a single word. Lucky for you, he rebooted himself in a few seconds, though he was still unable to curb his enthusiasm.

“Yes. Yes! Alright, let’s go.”

Mark went to reach for your hand but quickly noticed that he was still holding it from when he’d dragged you with him. Instead, sheepishly, he smiled at you and started to walk towards the ship’s entrance, you chuckling to yourself in tow.

If you were going to take a break, you might as well be taking it with your favorite person. What did you have to lose?

“I’m hoping for cool fish.”

“Nope.”

Within half an hour, the both of you were settled on beanbags, eating soup out of Styrofoam bowls, and drinking the champagne you had left over from the salute at the start of the trip. To you, it was the height of luxury, especially now that you were out of your stuffy uniforms and into more casual clothes. The only ones you owned were your workout gear and nightwear, but you opted for the less sweaty version of a tank top and shorts. You didn’t think it was so bad, but Mark had spent the first ten minutes of the lunch break looking anywhere but you. It didn’t help when you went to get your helmet and jacket because he immediately jumped to push you back down into your seat. Not that you – or, though you were unaware, Mark – was complaining.

Still, you kept the outer layers of your uniform close by in case of an emergency, the chances of you being notified as minimal as they were with both your walkie-talkies having been switched off. It was you who pushed for them to be present, but the compromise made them pretty much useless.

Yet not even the potential of a natural disaster pulled you out of the relaxed state you had entered. Slipped down halfway into the beanbag, spread out as far as you could get, you felt calmer than you’d ever been before. Mark would say the same, had he not been seeing your face for the first time.

By the sun, moon, and stars, you were… downright gorgeous. He never liked relying on rumors, so he had taken the stories of you being handsome and/or beautiful to be one weird game of telephone. Now, though? He was regretting not asking to see your face sooner, but you were still in front of him, and he was going to relish the view for as long as he could, emergency be damned.

“First chance I get, I’m throwing you in an ocean,” you promised, taking a sip from your champagne flute.

“I’m taking you with me.”

“I want to see it. Maybe we’ll find a fifty-foot-long eel with three sets of teeth and mandibles on its face.”

“You’ll find some cool rocks and suffocate before you could even see the thing.”

Dammit. Just like that, with one sentence, Mark smothered the banter you had going. His jaw clenched, your shoulders heightened, the mood was thrown out the window – poor choice of words, again. He had meant it to be playful, but certain recent events tainted the very concept of losing oxygen, of holding your breath for longer than a minute. Gallows humor had yet to set in, and, based on the glazed-over look in your eyes, he couldn’t help but think it never would.

But you were the one to break the silence. “So, what now?” you asked as you placed the flute gently on the floor, glass clinking even as it stood straight.

“Cap,” was the only mumbled answer you received, though it didn’t deter you.

“I know, it’s just…” you sighed, “we can’t not talk about it?”

“Why not?”

Your gaze shot to meet Mark’s eyes, ready and raring to argue, to question how he can deny it. The flame died the second you saw the look. The watery film that threatened tears dumped dirt over your fury. It made sense that he would want to leave it behind. You had the colony to think of now, instead of the death after death after death you’d both faced in the wormhole. You understood that want to ignore it all, but you couldn’t fall into the trap. You couldn’t face another night with it hanging over your head. The bags underneath those wet eyes of his told you he couldn’t either.

Shakily, you whispered, careful not to set him off, “Because it happened. And it was a serious moment in our lives that we can’t ignore. And- and what if it all goes wrong again and we need to prepare to deal with it?”

“Then we’ll do what we did last time.”

“Get stuck?”

“Get through it.” Distantly, you wondered why you were the one to make that first speech. You were the captain, sure, but Mark made you believe him with just one incomplete sentence. He made you trust him in three words, no matter how much your mind fought to tell you otherwise, your heart did indeed trust him. “I mean, we’ve come this far, how hard can it be?” A weak chuckle. “I’d wager getting Gunther to not shoot the first thing he saw when he got off the ship was a lot harder than what we did.”

You didn’t feel like laughing. Instead, talking about the crew, it made you feel… something else. An intangible well of guilt and shame. You could get through another wormhole, but everyone else? What if they got caught? What if they started to remember all the death and fire and pain? You wouldn’t be able to help them, not like last time. If they remembered, they’d be at the edge with you, staring over the side. How many of them could take it? The crew or the colonists themselves? You would have failed them all. You might not have killed them, but they’d be casualties, nonetheless.

“Hey.” Your head snapped up to see Mark at eye level with you, leaning over to bring a hand to your upper arm. “We’d get through it. I know we would.”

But you still looked forward, unblinking, and it only took a second for Mark to realise he was wrong. If he wanted to be scientific about it, he would have just called it trauma bonding – if he wanted to be emotional about it, which he didn’t but he was going to be, he would have thought that all your time together brought you closer, not only because of the danger you experienced, but the comradery. Seeing you in action, seeing you take care of everyone, seeing you be the captain you were meant to be; Mark was sure he understood you. That meant he could see that guilt and shame as clear as day in your eyes.

He let himself fall forward to flop down next to you in your beanbag. Even though he was slightly uncomfortable, pressed against the strangely stiff surface, he stayed right where he was. Nestled against your side. He couldn’t think of a better place to be.

“I don’t understand why you do this.”

“It’s one of my charming quirks.”

You still didn’t feel like laughing, not even at your own poor joke, so you dropped your gaze to Mark. “What are you talking about?” you asked.

“You pretend like you aren’t the captain.”

“Do I?” Plead the fifth or whatever it was people said, and you didn’t care about the irony of you being the one to deny now.

He narrowed his eyes, barely shifting closer but shifting closer regardless. You felt your breath catch in your throat. “Yeah, you do,” he pushed as the hand that was on your arm circled around to the other shoulder. You resisted the voice in your mind that told you to bury your head in his neck, whether that was to avoid hearing him or to relish in his closeness that you never had the chance for.

You didn’t though, head remaining held high, so you were forced to listen when he continued, “You tried to get a smaller crew, you go in on the explorations yourself, you ignore the medics who try to help you.”

Another voice in the back of your mind perked up to rebuke it all, but you silenced it. What would be the point of lying? Mark knew you, you knew he knew you, there was no reason to fight it.

You sighed. “Well, I don’t know.” Your voice was small, smaller than you or Mark had ever heard it, but the admittance felt like it was enough to send a shockwave through the cabin. The jacket that showcased your title to everyone on the planet seemed to blaze in your mind. “Am I really their captain yet?”

“’Yet’?” Mark parroted you, and that was the go-ahead you needed to spill your thoughts.

“I missed the construction of the ship and the selection of the crew. The hour that I got onto the thing, everything went to shit, so many things went wrong. I- I don’t know if I deserve this, being the captain, when I didn’t spend any time with the people running the ship. Hell, even without the whole wormhole thing, we were going to be in cryo-sleep for the entire journey. I wasn’t needed.” The flood of words tumbled out with reckless abandon and then stopped like crashing into a wall like a bike going eighty. You didn’t think you would go through with it otherwise. Inner voices or a sense of decorum threatened to overtake you.

And yet, even though you got to the end of your rant, red-faced and breathless, you were knocked more off-balance by Mark’s question. “How many times did you die?”

“What?”

His eyes were trained on you. “How many times did you die?”

“I don’t remember, maybe thirty?”

“So, you died thirty times for yourself?”

Indignation sparked within your heart. “No, I did it for the ship,” you stated bluntly, “the crew and the colonists.” You weren’t certain what his point was, but if you had to use your authority-voice on him, you were going to.

“Repeat that for me.”

“I did it for…”

That was his point, then. Your shoulders relaxed, though you didn’t notice that you’d raised them, and your eyebrows unfurrowed. In return, Mark’s smile brightened, like he’d caught the canary. Caught you, more like.

You stared deadpan down at him but brought a hand up to card through his hair. Without his beret, it was looser, more befitting of him as a person instead of the head engineer. The corners of his mouth perked up even more. “See, I don’t like it when you use my own tactics on me.”

His laugh reverberated through your own bones, especially when he dropped his head to your collarbone. It wasn’t awkward, in fact, you were soon chuckling along with him at his happiness more than your joke – it felt natural, but you were still aware that this was the closest you had ever been. Relaxed into the beanbag the two of you now shared, trying to avoid knocking over your flutes of champagne, practically cradling each other in your arms. If the wormhole had been like this, maybe you would have appreciated it more.

“Someone who doesn’t deserve to be captain would have left the ship to explode and taken an emergency pod back to the nearest planet.” His speech, like his trailing off giggles, shook your muscles as sparks of electricity. “They wouldn’t have died for them, and you did. You are their captain.”

Hesitation. You saw it as bright at the sun of your new home in the sky. You saw it rise in Mark’s eyes, you saw it crescendo, and you saw it dip into the horizon.

“You’re my captain.”

Whatever thought ran through his mind, it was gone by the time he pushed through the final inch between you, leaving barely a breath in the interim. You could feel the puffs of hot air bat against your jaw, nose and lips. The role he gave you meant more than the legislation, the rule, the empty title. Now, it was trust. Him in you, and you in him.

For a moment, you thought he might bridge the gap, but his mouth opened before anything could progress. That didn’t mean either of your minds had strayed from the idea. He whispered under his breath, as if it would escape the room had he spoken any louder, “Do you want to have dinner tomorrow night?”

“As in a date?”

“Yeah. A date.”

Mark could feel his heart beating faster. He could have denied it and represented it something like the scenario you were in now. There was a part of him that thought he should have; it shied away from the very possibility of rejection and cowered in the clasp of regulations and human resources. But he had already taken the leap, the words hovering in the air. It would be a proper date – with candles and music and something better to eat than soup in a Styrofoam bowl. You’d talk about whatever came to mind, plans for the future instead of the past, and you’d share a bottle of wine as you spoke. The flicker of flame would highlight you from below and he would see exactly what he was describing in your eyes. His future. If the night went well, you’d clear the table together, strangely domestic against the memories of the journey over, and then, with the candlelight still dancing on the table before the fire was snuffed out, he hoped to share a kiss together. He could almost feel it already.

While his imagination was a thing to behold, it could not take credit for that sensation, but while Mark was so lost in his prospects, he failed to notice that the future was coming to pass. Or some of it, anyway.

You weren’t sitting at a table, a glass of wine and wax dripping onto the table; you were closer than before, with your lips pressed against his and your eyes closed.

Mark was knocked breathless. The sensation was nothing he could have predicted; the pressure was soft, gentle, like a silk ribbon, but the texture exposed how you would bite the same places when you were worried. Worried? What reason did you have to be worried? You were the greatest captain he had ever heard of, let alone known. He wanted to tell you just that, but he was preoccupied, for obvious reasons, with pushing you down against the hill of the beanbag. Maybe he was bias – your groan reverberated through his skin – but he didn’t really have a choice – your fingertips skimmed across his hair – and he was sure that you were objectively the best anyway – your teeth grazed over his lips – so it didn’t really matter. He brought one of his own hands to hover over your jaw, barely making contact until a particular hum had him brushing his thumb across your cheek. You leaned into it, as if it were a military ration, and he supposed it must have felt like that. Roles like yours didn’t tend to come with company.

Inwardly, he pledged that he would never let you feel alone again.

Outwardly, in an ill-fated scuffle to reposition himself, a dull thunk and something spilling onto the floor caused the two of you to slowly, begrudgingly, part. A few puffs of air settled between you as you turned to see Mark’s semi-full glass that had fallen over.

With a laugh, you settled your head against Mark’s shoulder, both to stabilize yourself and spare him the embarrassment of a steadily reddening face.

“So, that date tomorrow?” Despite the last five minutes, Mark couldn’t help but be shaky in asking. Either that, or it was aftereffects of his heart going 210 instead of the normal 60 beats per minute.

“As long as,” you whispered before grabbing your own champagne for another sip, “we get to find a large body of water tomorrow.”

“That sounds a lot like an ocean, Cap.”

“Well, if you insist, we can find an ocean.”

With your final poke at his expense, enough to wave away the remaining fog of tension no matter the nature, you downed the last of your champagne and settled further into your beanbag. For once, you didn’t regret taking a break, and you were sure you would need another breather after the excavation the following day.

“It’s my project, it has my name signed on the documents.”

So far, the day had proven successful. Three more biomes were scouted out, one of them being a potentially perfect site for farming, and the first real town had been built. At the beginning, it had looked like one of those places built to test nuclear weapons – but then, just two hours ago, they had moved the first colonists into their houses. You had been there to greet them, shake their hands and pass them the keys, but you had to leave before they could get fully settled. Besides, that was Celci’s job. The whole transfer from cryo operation was under her jurisdiction.

However, now that the residents were all making beds and organizing cupboards, Mark had to deal with her. And by deal with her, he meant argue, because there wasn’t another way the situation could ever turn out.

Presently, the pair were standing outside a section of the colony, Mark’s section, with blueprints in hands and scowls on faces. A slap against the paper was followed by Celci’s gesture towards the energy source.

“That means you were the one who started to involve cryo-tech, and that means I need to have some input.”

Mark scoffed, even though he knew full well that she was, technically, just barely, if you looked at it a certain way, correct. Just the word cold was her full job description, but he assumed he would get away with it if she were busy with other things. How wrong he was. Ever the eye for detail, Celci had searched through all the project applications, filtering for anything below 30 degrees, and then promptly set up meetings with all the leads. She wasn’t aware that it was Mark heading this one until she walked up the concrete path. Mark wasn’t aware that it was Celci he was meeting with until he heard her groan.

Go figure, they had made no progress.

“You know, I would love to prove you wrong on this,” Mark hissed, “but, unlike you, I can’t spend all day arguing about this.”

Was it backhanded to boast about your date and use it to get away from an argument, which he totally wasn’t losing, in one sentence? Probably. Was he doing it anyway? Yes.

However, Celci wasn’t one to give up that easily. Mark barely got two steps backwards before she took one toward him in return. “No, you know I’m right, so you’re running away.”

“Actually, I have a date tonight.” The pride and amazement took over the scowl on his face. For a moment, he forgot he was talking to someone and that he wasn’t just staring into his mirror, trying to convince himself it wasn’t a dream while he picked out an outfit.

“Who with? Your Roomba?”

In any other situation, he would have leaned into the mockery, tried harder to think of a better comeback, but the truth worked well enough. With a grin, Mark corrected, “The Captain.”

A flurry of emotions danced over Celci’s face that Mark was so glad he was able to see. He didn’t think he’d ever seen her confused before, much less shocked, though there were plenty of times she looked at him with endless doubt. They rolled over and over like a broken projector before she finally landed on a stranger expression – bemusement.

“Finally.”

It was his turn to look confused.

She tutted and looked him dead in the eye. “You can’t think that nobody’s seen the love-sick puppy look you give them when they’re nearby.”

The splutter was hard to contain, despite it being very obviously undignified, but it was harder to get back on his feet. So many questions swirled around his mind, most of them trying to preserve whatever image he thought he presented, but he came up blank. It was, annoyingly, likely that she was once again right. But it wasn’t his fault, not when you were, well, you. Of course, he wouldn’t call it love-sick, though that didn’t stop it from being accurate.

Mark’s lack of response was enough for Celci to know she’d caught him red-handed. Just typical. With the upper hand, she continued, “But I happen to know that your dinner isn’t until seven, so that gives us five hours for you to see reason.” He tried to protest, opening his mouth to ask how she actually found that information out, before she held up a hand. “Or, what, does it take that long to get your hair like that?”

Inwardly, Mark cursed her. He lost his way out of the conversation, and, in doing so, was welcomed by the colony’s rumor mill. What a prize. At least things weren’t spun out of proportion, but he would have preferred the date to be private at first. He could only hope that the crew had enough sense to leave them alone for the night.

Right now, however, he still had to prove to Celci that he didn’t need her supervision.

“I just don’t understand why you want to get involved with this!” he groaned.

“Because it’s a safety issue if I don’t.”

“It’s not gonna explode.”

“You’ll find a way.”

“I’m not doing anything outside of regulations, it—”

A crackle. Something like a fire burning. His heart rate piped up. Celci started to spin, but Mark was quick to grab at his belt. The walkie-talkie was stirring from its sleep in one of the pouches. He preferred the tech they’d designed for the mission, but he wouldn’t deny you your pieces of Earth. Plus, the stickers were always a bonus.

He drew Celci’s attention as he pressed the button down. Silently, he waved away her own smug grin – the one that told him he looked exactly like a love-sick puppy.

“Hey, Cap, everything alright?”

You never stuck with the whole over and out thing. It was the compromise given they had replaced it with a light to show when the other side’s button was pressed down. To Mark, it made more sense and improved efficiency. What was concerning, though, was that the light was on, red and blazing, but you weren’t talking.

He pressed it closer to his ear.

Just breathing.

“Cap? Captain, are you okay?”

He was struggling to keep his smile.

Especially when your voice whispered through the machine, gravelly and choked, as if there were hands wrapped around your neck.

“Hey, Mark.”

“Captain.”

“I’m, uh—” You were broken apart by a cough, “—prob’ly gonna be late to dinner—” Another cough, “—tonight.”

It sounded like your lungs were being ripped at the tubes and emptied. Mark’s heart felt like it was shattering.

“Where are you?”

Radio silence. The shards cracked further and refracted the light into searing flames through his veins. Just as sharp, he brought his gaze up to Celci.

“Where is the Captain right now?”

“Didn’t make a copy of their schedule?”

It was meant to be banter, a little poke at their relationship, something to get a deadpan look and an eye roll.

Mark looked more scared than she had ever seen him.

“Third excavation site. North.”

And, at the final word, he was gone, sprinting down the concrete path. The wind carried him in subtle support while some of the crew watched the storm rush past them. They had no clue what was happening, but neither did Mark. He only knew that he had to get to you, no matter what. He had to be there for you.

The walkie felt like it was burning in his grip. An omen and a promise at the same time. He pulled it to his mouth, as though just hearing his voice clearer would let him understand everything. “Cap, Cap, come on, what happened?”

Nothing. Silence outside of his body, which itself sounded like a zoo set loose. It was the eeriness of a broken submarine. He could hear the crunching of the water against the sides as it threatened to ball the metal up with the ease of a wad of paper, but there was still a dismal quiet in the meantime.

“Captain!”

And he couldn’t do a damn thing to help.

Some of the pressure released when he heard your whisper, “Cave in.” It was decorated with crackles and pops, but he heard it crystal clear, every single one of your words its own speech. “Do-don’t come, Mark, don’t.”

His footsteps picked up impossibly faster to match his heart rate.

“I swear, I will,” you choked for a second before you were saved with a cough, “I will pull rank on you.”

“You can do that later. When you’re not crushed under rocks. You can do it at dinner.”

“Mark, I’m not…”

“Yes, you are!”

He swept round a corner. The danger signs for the excavation site came into view. Just a little longer. He didn’t know if you had a little longer. Your breathing was already ragged when you called, and it was getting worse. He knew he should have been pouring all of his energy into getting to you – for once, he admitted it would be better for him to shut up and focus – but he couldn’t handle the silence.

“Okay, okay, pull rank on me,” he pleaded, “just keep talking. Please.” You yielded to his request with a smile that he couldn’t see. “You named the colony yet?” His job. Technically, it was supposed to be the captain who named the colony, but you had given that duty to him. You’d argued that he was the one to choose the planet, so he should have been the one to name it. Just the thought of it made him sick to his stomach. It was too early for delegation, you didn’t need to do it yet, and there would be no reason to later because you would be alive and well. You’d do your job and he’d do his. There would be no exchange because a role couldn’t be filled.

But the declaration was fueled by doubt even in his own mind.

“No, I was waiting for you,” Mark answered.

“You should name it.”

“I’m waiting for you.”

Another cough, as if your own body was working to supply your point. “Can’t wait forever.”

“I won’t be.”

The lack of response stirred something horrible in his gut when he slid into the entrance to the rock site. He pushed past the gates and tape, snagged protective gear from its place hanging off the fence, and immediately rushed to the directors. They were shambling about with checklists in hand and smiles on faces. Mark wanted to laugh, cry, freeze still in his boots. Everything looked so optimistic. This was advancement for a colony of a size like this.

Days later, when the clock would strike midnight and Mark would lay in his bed with the sheets askew and pillows scattered, he wouldn’t remember what he said to the workers he spoke to. Whether he interacted with them, or they interacted with him, it didn’t matter. His words were lost to him in the haze of overwhelming urgency and underwhelming panic. Medics arrived and excavators were called over. He only knew that because a few of them went in with him to the mouth of the cave – if some kind of legal body was contacted, he wasn’t aware of it because they never showed in front of him, and they weren’t helping him find you.

One detail he did recognize though was the tug at the walkie from one of the directors that caused Mark to pull back like a feral cat. They seemingly decided not to risk it, and simply slipped another walkie in his belt. Of course, you’d given the rest of the crew those things, instead of the highly modernized tech that would have stopped this entire thing from happening in the first place – but he couldn’t be mad at you. It wouldn’t have been you otherwise.

They backed off quickly when they were done, and he held the original close to his chest until he was well within the tomb- not tomb, cave. A normal cave.

He had to find you.

The team he entered with was small. You always liked close-knit things, he supposed that was why you went in by yourself. Something about comradery. You were too old-fashioned for your own good.

He would tell you that at dinner, give you a light smack on the wrist and a kiss on the cheek.

“Mark, are you still there?” Your voice through the walkie reminded him of where he was. Where you were. You sounded terrible, considerably worse than last you spoke, but that was to be expected.

Focus.

“Of course. I’m not leaving.”

“Thank you."

His heart would have melted had he not been so hyped up on the rush of adrenaline and intangible fear.

“Can you describe what you can see?”

“Lotta rocks.” Your laugh turned into a gravelly groan. “I see a light.”

“Don’t go towards it.”

“I don’t have much choice.” Mark was blissfully unaware of your joke because he was also blissfully unaware that your legs had been mangled by rocks splitting apart your bones and muscles, pulverized like the aftermath of an old blender fed with sticks and banana. You were glad he was.

He was able to, instead, drop down off a ledge deeper into the cave, which was very quickly becoming more of a cavern. It had the distinct feeling of being trapped in an ant hill, with some spaces widening and then others trailing off into sharp points. Wherever you were, getting out would be a problem, too, but seeing a light meant that you were either incredibly deep or just by the surface. He was hoping for the latter.

The next drop down was not promising.

Neither was the walkie startling to life again with your voice. “You know,” you croaked, “when we were in the wormhole, I didn’t think it would end like this.”

“It’s not ending like this.”

You let the words sink into metal grating of the machine before you spoke again, “I thought I’d be shot in that noir place or stay frozen in a cryo-chamber for centuries, I didn’t think I’d just be, uh, crushed.”

The way you phrased it was so inelegant that Mark nearly snorted. However, the reality didn’t let it breach neo-daedism territory.

“Seems a bit boring, in comparison.” He couldn’t tell whether you were mumbling for comedic effect, or your lungs were giving up on you. Uncertainty impaled him like a spear through the chest.

Swallowing, he sighed. “But at least it’s not in the wormhole.”

“At least it’s not in the wormhole.”

It felt too much like a goodbye. A final salute to the ship that sailed off into the distance. Firing the arrow onto the raft. It shouldn’t have given him hope.

But it did; the cavern was bathed with the sunshine from a hole in the ceiling, and the light on the walkie was off.

It didn’t take long to spot you, upper half sticking out from the rubble of a dozen large boulders and even more smaller rocks dusting your back. Frantically, he rushed to your side, barely dodging standing on the discarded walkie a few feet in front of you. You held another to your cheek. Mark wished he had more time to tease you about keeping a whole communicator just for him, then you’d tease him about his own, and then you’d win the argument when he decided to just look at you all alive and active and not steadily dying in a cave. He did not have more time.

He hooked the walkie for the director out of his belt and called for assistance, giving a description of the route he took and then turning it off to pay attention to you.

Your grin was bright but shaky. “You come here often?”

“Captain…”

“Sorry, bad timing.”

“No, perfect timing.” The chuckle that dripped out from his mouth was tainted by tears brimming in his eyes. He took your hand and tried to ignore how cold it already was. If he had come sooner, would you have more of a chance? Would you have survived? Oh, but you were going to survive anyway, you had to. You were the captain. You were his captain.

“Mark, don’t- don’t get yourself worked up.”

“Or what?”

“Oh, you know.”

He wanted to beg for you to continue the joke. His grip tightened as he brought your hand to his lips. He held it there, waiting, not breathing a single puff of air. The fear of disturbing the scene and being the little bit of wind that a rock needed to jut further into your back was buried deep in his bones.

“Please, just hold on.”

“Mark…”

No.

“Mark, I can’t.”

No, no, no, no.

“I’m sorry.”

Was he saying words?

“They’ll be fine.”

Just a little longer.

“Mark, look… look around, we’ve made it this far, haven’t we?”

His mouth was moving, he was sure of it, but the crackle of the walkie filled his ears in place of his own words.

“You built the ship, you hired the crew, you fixed the warp-core.”

The warp-core. He had done it once before. What’s to say he couldn’t do it again?

“No.”

All that pain, all those deaths, he would do it again.

“Uh-uh. Not this time.”

He would do it for you.

“We got off on chance, you’re not trying that again, Mark, I can’t—”

If you would just let him, he could get you back. He didn’t understand why you were resisting. It would be so easy. You would get to live and lead the colony and be the captain that you always wanted to be.

But he couldn’t deny that it was a lot of woulds. And he couldn’t go through with it without your support. The tears in your eyes were not from pain but from fear, and not even for yourself. You were scared for him. Your head engineer.

“I’m not losing you—” Mark snapped back to the present, “—And, yeah, I know how ironic that is.”

It was ironic, wasn’t it? Not only this situation, but that the two of you, as a pair, had gone through so much together, only to get separated when things had finally calmed down. It was as though you had grown so used to danger that you couldn’t survive without it. Domesticity was not for you, nor was it for Mark. In this lifetime, you would never get a break. And that was one of the two certainties he found.

“So, hey, just- just give me this. Please?”

The other certainty?

“I love you.”

Mark kneeled on the dusty ground of the cave with your hand in his. It was just as cold as the air around you, your breath visible as you sighed a single, “I-…” that trailed off before you could get anything out. The words died in your lungs as your eyes dropped shut.

Mark’s sobs echoed throughout your tomb.

[Did you know this started out as straight fluff? Also, I will forever be scared of the leviathan from Subnautica]

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ghostly-hitch-hiker · 1 year

Text

Puberty Speedrun (pt 1)

For some reason @stealingyourbones ‘s DPxDC Prompt 492 was the one that finally galled me into writing action, but have some aged up Danny! He’s not in Gotham yet, but oh Boy does he end up there (if I actually keep writing, that is). It’s not all that long, but I’m adding a keep reading line anyway.

Chapter 1: Part 1 (you are here!), Part 2, Part 3

He wasn’t sure how it had happened. Perhaps, this is what he gets for taking advantage of Clockwork too much. Maybe it’s just another side effect of slipping in and out of the time stream unaffected for too long (how long has it been anyway? Has he actually lived long enough in those time out moments to have aged this much?) For once, it wasn’t his parents.

Of all the changes he’s been through, this one had been the most peaceful. He’d woken up with his feet sticking off the edge of his childhood bed and his head smushed against the headboard. Pajamas that he’d actually managed to shrug into for once instead of falling into bed fully clothed were far too tight and too torn all of a sudden.

Danny rolled out of bed with a louder than normal thud and struggled to get his too long limbs in order. He rubbed hand up the side of his face and froze when he felt stubble. Oh, Ancients, had he seriously speedrun puberty? Danny’s body finally obeyed him in his mad rush to the bathroom before freezing when he caught his reflection in the mirror.

Damn, that’s a no to speedrunning puberty, then. Or was it really a no? Because the man that looked back at Danny from the mirror definitely wasn’t fifteen. He wasn’t even a teenager. “Fuck,” he muttered, and he shuddered when his voice sounded exactly like Dan’s. Danny blinked, and so did the man in the mirror. He stepped closer, so did his reflection. His shoulders were broad, far broader than his fifteen year old frame had ever given any indication they could be. He was a good six inches or so taller than he had been the previous night, but that still only put him around 5’10”. Probably. (Jazz was already that tall. They’d have to compare heights. Oh Fuck, Jazz. Nope. Not yet. Still processing mirror shenanigans).

He thought he looked how an unghostly Dan might’ve looked, but the longer he stared, the more he could see how too much eau de Vlad had influenced Dan’s appearance. His hair was shortish still, and most importantly, not made of flames, but still the same hair texture it had always been. His eyes were significantly less red and evil looking. They were the same blue as ever, as a human at least, and if he focused on them, he could still pretend he looked fifteen. His nose was larger than it had been, and it looked even more like a cross between his parents than it had before. Rounded ears. Normalish incisors. The dark circles under his eyes still looked like he was a chronic insomniac rather than Dan’s bad eyeliner choices. Rubbing a hand once more along the stubble of his jaw, a jaw that was much more defined than it had been, Danny decided he looked like Danny… just older. Sighing, Danny brushed his bangs out of his eyes and winced as his pajama shirt tore further with the motion.

Alright, mental to do list time: 1. Steal clothes from dad, 2. Call himself out of school, 3. Liquor store (KIDDING, JAZZ!), 4. Actually maybe talk to Jazz about what has happened and also definitely Sam and Tucker, 5. Fight Clockwork and undo the instant aging.

Danny was only fifteen, dammit! He wasn’t ready to be twenty-five!

------------

If I keep going, the course of events would go as follows. Danny’s parents don’t recognize him, and after fighting talking to Clockwork, it becomes apparent that there isn’t any way to undo this anytime soon—at least, not in Amity Park. So Danny leaves. His parents don’t recognize him, his friends and his sister are almost a full decade younger than him. He doesn’t want to miss out on ten years of life with the people he cares about, so he’d better find some way to undo the aging bs.

The problem with leaving Amity is that everywhere else in the US is a hell of a lot further ahead technologically, so it’s harder to fake an identity than he thought. Sam, Jazz, and Tucker help, but they’re really all teenagers and his new ID really wouldn’t stand up to close scrutiny. So Danny makes his base of operations Gotham. The police don’t care about some slightly wonky paperwork, and neither does his landlord. He’s pretty sure he can stay clear of the bats while he’s in the city anyway (courtesy of ghost powers), and he’ll be spending most of his time around the continental US trying to figure out what the hell even happened to him. It’s as foolproof of a plan as it could be. He totally won’t get into any trouble living in the world’s greatest detective’s hometown!

He does not account for it also being Bruce Wayne and his family’s hometown...

#dp x dc #Danny Phantom #danny fenton #aged up danny #speedrunning puberty #and then some #This is rather short and somehow so drawn out #dc x dp #future batpham ideas

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bloodblanks · 1 year

Text

30 frames per second [ben drowned x reader] — chapter i.

You have overbearingly strict parents who forced you into studying a degree that you don’t even like, and now you’re stuck having to write a thesis paper for it. But whatever, you can handle it. That is, until your computer starts running into some problems.

co-written with @blxrrii and @heartsfromvenus! ♡

author’s note: this fanfiction will not contain much, if any, dark or explicit content, but nonetheless,

please read at your own discretion.

<- previous chapter

chaos theory noun noun: chaos theory

the branch of mathematics that deals with complex systems whose behaviour is highly sensitive to slight changes in conditions, so that small alterations can give rise to strikingly great consequences.

‘It’s all because of that damn phone!’

That’s what your parents would have said when looking for the root cause of the problem.

This time though, they’d almost be right. Almost.

Except it wasn’t your phone that had started all of this; it was the PC. Which for some reason, your parents seemed to worry about less than your phone. Why did your phone always have to be the scapegoat? You were sure they wouldn’t have got you one if it wasn’t a necessity nowadays.

Anyway.

A prominent concept in chaos theory was the butterfly effect. The idea that a single flap of a butterfly’s wings could later cause a typhoon. That was what would soon become of your life. Not that you would’ve known originally, and not that you would’ve been aware of until it was over and done with.

And it all started because of that damn PC.

—

You yawned, stretching out to the edges of your bedframe with your fingers splayed. Rolling over to your side, you carefully inspected your alarm clock, a slight grimace on your face as you stared at the time.

You had spent the entire morning doing nothing. That was your final conclusion, though you were confused about how it happened. Not that it mattered much because it was technically still early. Or at least early enough.

The day had only begun not too long ago, your first class of the day yet to start. There was still some time to kill, although you figured you should at least get out of bed instead of lying there scrolling through your phone.

With a groan, you reluctantly got up, making your way to the kitchen of your too-large, too-extravagant home. Your house stood at a grand height of three stories tall, not including the basement and the attic. The rest of the house was filled with an abundance of rooms, far more than your small family of three would ever need. You supposed it made sense, though, seeing as your parents didn’t have much else to do with the money. With no siblings to pay for, your parents only had to cover their living expenses, yours, and your studies, which they had more than enough for.

You absentmindedly gazed around for something to eat, eyes scanning over your kitchen in hopes that you could locate what you wanted before your parents noticed. It wasn’t as if they’d berate you for eating, but as odd as it was, something about eating in front of them made you deeply uncomfortable and shy.

Quickly glancing over your shoulder to make sure nobody was there, you opened your secret snack drawer, quickly picking something out before covering it up again with the small hand towels that were carefully balanced on top of it.

Satisfied with your stashing, you started to make your way upstairs, which was a surprisingly long route due to the size of your home. You had just reached the top of the staircase when you ran into your dad, who took it upon himself to start a conversation.

“Y/N, shouldn’t you be getting to class?” His voice was hoarse, presumably because he had just woken up. You stared at him blankly, wondering if it was a genuine question or just a bad attempt at conversation. Where else did he possibly think you were going?

“Yeah, I’m just getting ready.” You took care to mask the irritation beneath your voice, knowing that your dad would be upset if you didn’t, which wouldn’t end well for you. You weren’t particularly in the mood for a lecture today. Not that you ever really were.

You didn’t hate your parents or anything, it wasn’t like that. You loved them to some degree, in a familial way… but it was hard thinking of them as anything more than that. You’ve heard of people who describe themselves as having a friendship with their parents, but that was never more than just a mere myth to you, having never seen or experienced it yourself.

Besides the occasional bout of teen angst and puberty mood swings, you mostly got along with your parents. The problem was more so that you weren’t close to them. You didn’t understand them; they didn’t understand you.

But the one thing that really wedged the distance between you and your parents was the fact that they were strict. Overbearingly strict.

Often, outsiders thought of your family dynamic as ‘sweet,’ hell, even ‘perfect.’ Of course, they had no clue what it was like to actually be in it. You didn’t think they’d say that if they lived it like you were forced to.

Sadly, no matter how much you wished for it, you couldn’t swap places with them.

How badly you wished that you could, though. Because despite being a fully grown adult, legally able to vote and drink at the fine age of twenty-one, in their eyes, you were and always would be a child.

And so, your existence came with a clear set of rules.

Those rules had been around for as long as you could remember, though they were rudimentary at first, minor things such as no snacks before bedtime. However, as you aged, their rules became increasingly noticeable and more frustrating to follow.

You had to alert your parents each time you left the house, school being the only exception. You had to tell them where you were going, how long you would be out for, and who you were with. Oh, their parents’ phone numbers had to be included in your report, as well. Curfew was 7PM sharp, right at dinnertime. Sleepovers were out of the question unless they took place at your home.

Dating was strictly forbidden, and all activities related to that went along with it. No kissing, no making out, and god forbid you even bring up the topic of sex, not that you would ever dare to, not that you would ever have a reason to. You weren’t sure what they were thinking because you were sure that your parents also expected you to get married and have kids someday, so you were utterly confused as to how they expected you to do that.

Underage drinking was out of the question, even though you were sure that most teenagers did it, anyway. But despite the law now permitting you to do so, your parents had made it clear that you were not allowed to drink still. Smoking and doing drugs? You’d probably be disowned, that is if you weren’t dead.

It was ludicrous, really. And what was even worse was that on top of all of that, you were not allowed to play video games.

It was something along the lines of ‘video games cause violence,’ ‘video games will distract you from your studies,’ ‘video games are a waste of time,’ and ‘video games are bad for you (just because).’

You remember having approached the subject once, and your parents responded with a such intense, passionate hatred for video games that you never thought to bring it up again.

Sure, you supposed you could have secretly played free phone or PC games when away from the hawk eyes of your parents. Still, after hearing so much negativity towards gaming, you had become disinterested. After all, you couldn’t have even known what you were missing out on.

Your parents’ behaviour resulted in you being extraordinarily sheltered and mostly unsocialized. Kids your age… didn’t really want to hang out with you. You weren’t bullied, but even in your private school with classmates like yourself, you were still sometimes called names such as a ‘goody two shoes’ or a ‘teacher’s pet.’ It wasn’t like you wanted to be that way, but that didn’t change anything.

Nonetheless, you were separated from most of your peers, often listening to them talk about a party coming up on the weekend, or a group sleepover at someone’s place, knowing that you would never be invited, and even if you were, it wasn’t like your parents would allow you to attend.

Of course, a portion of children had lives similar to yours, and from that portion, your parents carefully handpicked your friends.

Rachel and Selina. Those were the friends that your parents had chosen for you. From an early age, they had been in contact with their parents and, from there on, set up play dates, dinners, hangouts, and even sleepovers—at your place, that is. Even with the selected friends, you still weren’t allowed to sleep at their homes.

The two girls weren’t necessarily the greatest of friends. It wasn’t that they were mean or rude; they were just so incredibly bland.

There was nothing of joy that any of them talked about. You never experienced the typical teenage girl discussion of boys and high school crushes, instead being forced to converse about school, grades, plans for the future and so on. This by itself wasn’t so much of a problem, but the fact that they only conversed about the same three topics made them absolutely unbearable to listen to after a while. You wondered how they could possibly not get bored of going on and on about it.

“You better hurry up, then!” your father exclaimed, yawning as he passed by you, making his way down the stairs and likely into the kitchen for his breakfast.

—

Class came and went relatively fast. You only had a singular class today, but your mom still insisted on driving you to and from school.

When you got home, you flopped down at your desktop, grabbed your planner and flipped through it to find the current day’s tasks.

Mere seconds after you flipped to the correct page, your expression soured, a frown making its way to your face as you read the first item on the list.

Work on thesis.

You had already suffered through three years of university, and now in your last year, the final step for your bachelor’s in pediatrics was to write and complete your thesis paper. You weren’t even particularly fond of the subject, but it was the best choice out of all the ones your parents had listed as acceptable.

You had written many difficult papers throughout your life, but this one had to be the most intimidating one of them all so far. You had started writing it not too long ago, although you had been putting it off simply because it was rather dreadful to work on. Still, it was only a matter of time before your parents found out about your procrastination, so you figured that you should force yourself to make at least some progress.

A long sigh escaped your lips as you closed the small planner in your hand, mentally preparing yourself for the gruelling task ahead.

—

The longer you sat in front of your computer screen, the more you felt like your brain was melting into goo. It was as if something in your brain had overheated and fried itself, and now you were no longer processing information, left to blankly stare at the words before you that now meant little more than unintelligible symbols.

You weren’t even close to being done with your thesis, you had written just about 1,700 words prior to this, and you now totalled at 2,352. Considering how you had browsed the internet, done chores, and completed other assignments throughout this to avoid your essay, you felt like you had done a surprising amount of work. Not that it was anywhere near enough.

Nonetheless, you were now sitting at the desk, mind slowly rotting away, regretting your decision to procrastinate so much. Perhaps it would’ve been easier if you had done this sooner when your mind was less tired from doing work.

But you couldn’t do anything about it now.

When you thought about it, you weren’t entirely sure as to why you put off your assignment for so long. While it was probably the most torturous thing that schools could’ve devised, there surely had to be more to it.

Were you just stressed? Perhaps it was the sheer amount of pressure your parents put on you with their near unattainable expectations. Maybe it was because you didn’t even enjoy the subject you were studying, not looking forward to graduating and finding a job because you didn’t even want a career in pediatrics. You wondered if you should’ve fought your parents back then to study something you actually liked, but you quickly shrugged off the thought. It was pointless to defy your parents, not that you would know, because you never even bothered to try. Regardless, it wasn’t like you knew what you even liked because your parents didn’t care for you trying out things that they deemed useless to your education and future job.

Or perhaps you were just highly sick of being a caged bird with its wings clipped for extra safety measures.

You tried to take your mind off of those thoughts. It wasn’t like anything would change. Your life had been like this for as long as you had known; there was no reason for things to be different. There was no one to rescue you from your dilemma.

You slumped down in your chair, seemingly having a staring contest with the glaring white screen before your eyes. The blinking cursor served to further taunt you, mocking you for not having typed out anything new onto the blank canvas.

The most sensical solution, at this point, would be to shut off your PC, get some rest and pray that the next day will be better. However, you were feeling stubborn. You had set your goal for a minimum of 2,500 words by the end of today, and you were going to continue staring at your screen until you eventually thought of something.

You wouldn’t get anywhere, but you didn’t want to admit to that.

And so, you moved your mouse around slightly to prevent the screen from turning off. You sat back up from your slouched position on your spinning chair, pressing the space button and trying to force whatever flow into… flowing.

“This is such bullshit.” you sighed, remembering that you didn’t have to lower your voice at the current moment—your parents were not okay with you cursing—seeing as your parents were thankfully asleep in their bedroom across the hallway.

You wished you could’ve moved out of your parents’ house when you started university. Still, no matter how much pleading and crying you did in front of your parents, they refused to let you be out on your own, instead making you take primarily online courses, and driving you to and from the mandatory remote ones.

You were infuriated, but you gritted your teeth and obeyed because you had no choice; you wouldn’t defy your parents. It didn’t matter what they did, whether they were right or wrong, you simply had to keep your mouth shut, nod along and do what they said.

You felt the weight of your eyelids become heavier, and in the spur of exhaustion and utter despair, you were going to allow yourself to fall asleep at your desk.

However, your eyes quickly snapped open as you caught a glimpse of a pop-up on the screen, one you were sure you weren’t the cause of.

“What the hell?” you mumbled to yourself, moving your mouse to close the tab. It was empty, only a black screen with no text. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it if it closed as you would’ve expected. Instead, no matter how many times you clicked on the ‘x’ on the screen, it gave you no reaction.

Did you accidentally earn your computer a Trojan virus or something? You didn’t think you had accessed anything suspicious. You didn’t browse any porn sites—your parents had a firewall, anyway—nor did you click on any weird links. Could it be from the movie you downloaded earlier today?

Shit, you thought. Your parents would never let you hear the end of it if they learned about it.

After a minute or two of furious clicking, the pop-up finally closed, and you sighed audibly, basking in your temporary relief. To your dismay, however, your problems had just begun.

Without you even touching the keyboard, random numbers, letters, and other symbols started typing themselves onto your thesis paper, causing your eyes to widen impossibly large and for curses to fall out of your lips at a rapid pace, panic quickly rising in your chest.

You didn’t have much time to further think and assess the situation because the wall of text enlarged with each second that passed. In a feeble attempt to save your paper from further destruction, you held your finger on the delete button, yet your efforts were fruitless as the block of text only spanned out upon more pages.

Hushed curses left your lips at a rapid pace, your worries exacerbated. You hadn’t done anything wrong, really. People download movies all the damn time. Why in the world was this happening to you, out of all people?

As if the situation wasn’t already bad enough, with your thesis paper being at risk, the pop-up from earlier returned, this time accompanied by many more similar ones, each of them covering a section of your screen until the whole screen was nothing but little tabs that overlapped each other. You instinctively reached for your mouse to try to shut them down once more, but your horror only increased as you realized your cursor wouldn’t budge. It was frozen in place, so any chance you had of deleting the abundance of pop-ups was now virtually nonexistent.

Amidst the sheer fear and anxiety that filled your mind, you suddenly thought of turning off your PC entirely. What stopped you, however, was the fact that you hadn’t saved today’s work, and seven hundred or so words would be erased.

“Fuck my life.” you hissed through clenched teeth, mentally berating yourself for being so miserably stupid that you failed to save your work sooner. If only you had, you could just turn your PC off, and your problem would be solved.

Before you could go further down the rabbit hole of self-hatred over your failure to press the goddamn save button, you realized something.

Your cursor could move again. A sliver of hope came to you. Maybe you’d finally be able to close the tabs, and while that would take forever, you could still salvage your thesis.

But as soon as you moved your mouse to close a pop-up, your browser opened by itself, full screening and covering all the pop-ups behind it. Once again, letters started typing by themselves into your search bar without you touching the keyboard.

You watched in complete hopelessness and confusion as the words’ cleverbot.com’ were spelled out before it seemingly hit enter and took you to the webpage.

It was now your cursor’s turn to move by itself, slowly floating over to the blue button that read ‘understood, and agreed,’ clicking on it. You continued watching, your eyes trained on the screen as the cursor moved again, now hitting the ‘think for me’ button.

A message typed itself out in blue.

You’ve met with a terrible fate, haven’t you?

next chapter soon...

#creepypasta #creepypasta nsft #creepypasta reader insert #creepypasta x reader #creepypasta x you #creepypasta smut #yandere creepypasta #ben drowned #ben drowned creepypasta #ben drowned x reader #ben drowned x you #ben drowned x y/n #ben drowned arg #yandere ben drowned #ben drowned reader insert #ben drowned smut #ben x reader #ben drowned headcanons #ben drowned hcs

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