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gurugirl · 1 year

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The Doctor & the Psychopath | A check-in*

Summary: You get a visit from someone you were not ever expecting to see again.

A/n: This is a check in to The Doctor & the Psychopath. If you want to understand this check-in you'll need to read the first one shot. BUT, you can read this as a standalone if you don't want to read the darker original one shot (this check-in isn't really that dark - but it's connected to the original so by default it is...). As always, read all warnings. And I'm sorry to all you who asked for this ages ago. I've neglected my lovers of the dark but here you are, a little something just for you. 2.7k words

Warning: Smut, violent cop interaction with mention of a gun, psychopath!harry x doctor!reader

Walking into your apartment feels so good after your long day. You’ve been having many long days since your incident with Harry Styles.

Somehow you got lucky when his brother-in-law never mentioned your indiscretion and you put in a request to send a new psychiatrist to take over. And that was that.

It had been the biggest mistake of your career. It could still come back to bite you somehow. You knew it would be quite hard to explain what had happened that day. You could say you’d been coerced and manipulated but then how do you explain everything else that went with it? His brother-in-law heard you moaning Harry’s name as you came around his cock, and all that led up to it… you knew better. You were still partially at fault and if you ever lost your license for what you’d done with a subject it would be warranted.

Pouring yourself a glass of red wine and linking your Bluetooth speaker to your playlist on your phone the stress begins to wash away.

You move your hips back and forth to the music as you walk into your living room. Setting your glass down on the coffee table you unzip the back of your skirt and shimmy out of it so that you're left in your panties and silk blouse. You put your arms overhead and stretch before going to flip on the light. You pad your way across the living room and the moment the light illuminates the room, you see something from your peripheral. Someone is in your home.

You turn slowly toward the offending intruder and your eyes widen and your heart races when you make eye contact with him. He's gotten into your home somehow. You've kept up with the case. He's still on house arrest at his sister's so you know he can't be here. He's breaking the rules.

"Harry. What are you doing here?" Your mouth goes dry. This man is dangerous and he's far stronger than you are.

Harry chuckles as he swings his leg to the ground so both of his feet are flat on the floor as he stays seated in your armchair, "Just coming to see you. I missed you and you haven't answered any of my calls since you ran out on me. Broke my heart." Harry spoke in nonchalance. Of course, you hadn't broken his heart. Harry was much too cold and unbothered to like someone enough to get his heart involved. He only loved himself.

"You shouldn't be here." You speak plainly. You are worried he's going to hurt you. You look down to his left foot and notice he's still wearing his house arrest bracelet.

Harry drops his gaze to where you're looking and he kicks his leg up before settling it back down again, "Oh yeah. They're probably trying to locate me now. I've been sentenced you know. It's official. I'm going to prison for being a cop abuser. Not because of any of the women, just because of the cop. If I hadn't touched Officer whatever-his-name-is then, I'd probably be off scot-free. Don't you think, Doctor?"

You shake your head and try to calm yourself. Harry had called you night and day for two weeks after you left and had another psychiatrist take over for you. The first time you answered was because you were curious about who was calling. If it was his brother-in-law or his sister and they were giving you a heads up that they were telling people about your indiscretions.

But when you heard Harry’s voice come through the receiver and the tone he used was casual, you hung up immediately.

“If you still have that on, that means they’re going to find you. Here,” you pointed toward the floor.

Harry pushed himself up and made three long strides toward you. You backed up and looked upward at him until you were bumped up against a cabinet. Harry put his hands on the wood frame of the cabinet near your head and caged you in with his body.

“S’okay. I just wanted to say goodbye to you. Was hoping you could give me a proper sendoff,” his smirk was quite frankly maddening. But he was hot. You swallowed down your thoughts and shook your head.

“How did you find out where I live?”

Harry dipped his face next to yours and bumped his nose to your temple, “Easy. You basically told me. And then I have your phone number so a google search with your number and your name gives me an address,” his proximity was once again making your head spin. He had something that was difficult to pinpoint but it was something that turned you on. You had clearly lost your mind.

“But how did you get in here?”

Harry moved one of his hands to the side of your neck, his knuckles brushing over your skin, “Also easy. Joe downstairs let me in. Told him I was your brother and I wanted to surprise you on your birthday. He was easy to convince so he got the spare key and let me right in.”

You scoffed. Goddamn Joe. He was the nicest doorman slash security guy but that was a problem when he was letting dangerous criminals into your apartment, “You shouldn’t be here, Harry.”

Harry’s soft knuckle on your neck turned into a palm wrapped around your neck, “There you go, calling me Harry. You know what that does to me. I let it slide the first time you said my name because I imagined you were in shock when you saw me here. But to say it again, when I’m this close to you? You want me. Don’t you?”

You closed your eyes. You tried not to imagine how nice he felt when he took you on his bed at his sister's house. You dreamt of his cock after and you hated yourself for it. It was dirty and it was wrong but it was all you could think of lately when you got off.

“That’s a yes if I’ve ever heard one,” Harry squeezed the sides of your neck and moved his face so his lips were covering yours. Your body reacted before your brain had a chance and you were slipping your hands into his hair as he licked into your mouth. Harry rutted his hips into yours and it caused the cabinet to rattle behind your back.

Harry suddenly stood up straight and moved his hand from the front of your neck to the back and then pushed you toward your bedroom. You complied. What else were you going to do?

“Get on the bed,” Harry ordered and you climbed up to your bed and sat on your bottom, waiting for his next move.

Harry took his pants off and then moved over your body, pushing you down to the mattress by your neck. He had his palm over your throat when he crushed your mouth with his. You were pushed up, further onto the bed, with Harry hovering.

When he backed away from the kiss he put his fingers into the slots of your shirt buttons and began to undo them, but he was struggling to get the first one done so you brought your hands up to help him. You didn’t know why. This was wrong.

With your shirt open and your bra-covered breasts exposed, Harry pulled the cups down from your boobs and pulled your tits out. He ran his tongue over the flesh and kept looking up at you but you could do nothing but moan and close your eyes. When he began to bite you a little you jerked your head up and pushed at him but he only went in harder, making you yelp, “H… Harry!”

Harry stopped his nibbling and lifted his mouth from your nipple and shook his head, “You do want this cock. Jesus, baby. It’s coming,” he smiled down at you as he dragged a hand down your body and into your panties, pushing his fingers into your crease. He started to slowly circle your clit and then he put his mouth back on your breasts, one by one. With his other hand, he held your left leg down and groaned when he finally felt you wetting his hand.

He brought his lips down until he was at your hips and then pulled the material of your panties away from your crotch. He dipped down and kissed the top of your mound and you gasped but spread your legs to give him room. You really were losing it. Harry groped your tits as his mouth softly kissed your pussy, but then he began to lick into you and, his lips came into contact with your clit.

“Oh god…” you moaned and bucked upward into his mouth. Harry laughed but didn’t stop what he was doing to your pussy.

He pushed himself up a little and moved his hands down to hold both of your thighs down as he looked at your center, “Didn’t get the chance to taste you last time. Want more? Or are you ready for my cock now, doctor? I don’t know that we have a lot of time left, me and you.”

You turned your head and looked at the clock and squeezed your eyes closed again. Fuck this was not how you imagined tonight going down. You pulled at his arm and opened your eyes, “Fuck me, Harry.”

You wanted to feel it one last time. Harry’s big cock dipping into you. You knew he was going to go in raw again and you panted when you saw him pull out his dick from his briefs. Long and hard and just as pretty as you remembered. Harry was pretty in general, though. Harry adjusted your legs and he put himself in between your thighs, dragging his cock through your pussy lips just before he rocked forward and pushed himself in through your vaginal muscle, opening you up for him. You groaned and watched Harry’s mouth drop open.

“Better than I remember. Fuck… that’s good isn’t it?” He spoke as he began to hasten his thrusts. Little by little reaching deeper inside. Harry’s cock was long enough that it took a minute for him to get fully sheathed in you, but when it happened, when he was slipping into the hilt, you keened and moaned Harry’s name into the room. That deep ache was brutal inside of your body but Harry wasn’t going to be going gently with your pussy, you knew that. You didn’t want it gentle anyway. Not with Harry at least. Gentle could come with another man, maybe someone who was nice and who could be a good boyfriend. But Harry was not nice and he’d never be your boyfriend or your lover. Just a crazy man with a big cock who wanted to fuck you until you were drooling and coming. That’s all he wanted and that’s all you wanted.

Harry’s body was a work of art. His muscles moved and worked himself into you, his thick muscled thighs flexing and pushing him deeper and deeper into you. Harry’s hips were smacking into yours with brute force. Pat-pat-pat the sound almost in time with the music playing from your blue tooth. Harry’s breathy gasps were nice to hear. It made him seem more human. Harry was just a human deriving pleasure from your body and his noises were evidence of how good he was feeling.

You panted softly and winced each time Harry rutted his cock as far up into you as it would go. It hurt. It was poking into your cervix and you could tell you were going to be sore for a couple of days after this. Which had you smiling for some reason.

Harry readjusted your body again until he had your knees pressed into your chest and he began pressing himself down hard into you.

“Ahh! Harry! Ohhh…” you yelped. You could feel him pushing and pulling into your walls as he pounded away. You closed your eyes and let your mouth hang open wide. It hurt but it felt just like what you needed. A good hard fucking with a big long cock. Probably something you’d never experience ever again. Most guys were too scared to go so hard, and certainly, most of them weren’t as hung as Harry.

“Jesus fuck that feels good…” Harry groaned as he rocked into you.

You couldn’t form words to speak. You had your mouth dropped open and could only breathe with each heavy thrust of his prick.

Suddenly your cell phone began to ring. You turned your head and Harry’s hand came down over your neck as he yanked your face back toward him, “Pay attention to me… and my cock… that can wait,” Harry panted his words.

Soon your phone stopped ringing and Harry only went in harder and deeper until you were shrieking and trembling under him as your orgasm started to take over.

“S’right… fucking come, doctor. Yess…” Harry threw his head back when his hips got out of rhythm as he started to come inside of you.

When you heard pounding at your door just as you were moaning Harry’s name with your pussy clenching over his thick cock, Harry groaned as he spurted into you, stilling his hips. More pounding at your door as you both heaved in your breaths and came down from your orgasms.

“Harry… I have to get that. I don’t want them breaking it down,” you spoke to him as he laid heavy over your chest.

Harry pushed himself off of you and pulled out of your pussy. He held your thighs apart as he dipped down and put his tongue flat along your pussy from your entrance upward and then he let go of you and put his trousers on, a closed-mouth smirk on his face. You were quick to jump from your bed and throw on your robe. You felt Harry’s come dripping down your thigh as you quickly made your way to your door. Harry slid his shirt on just as you opened up. Your cheeks were red and your mascara was running down your face. Your hair was messed and you were still breathing heavily. Harry looked similar. He was breathing hard, sweat beaded up along his brow, and his hair was messed up from how you’d run your hands through it over and over again.

“On the ground!” Two police officers burst into your apartment and aimed a gun at Harry. He put his hands up and silently dropped to his knees and then laid on his stomach as they surrounded him and cuffed his hands behind his back. He turned his head and looked at you, that smirk still on his face as they lifted him to his feet. A third cop approached you and pulled you aside, “Are you okay?”

You nodded and smoothed your robe down. You knew you looked disheveled. They probably imagined he attacked you.

One of the cops asked Harry something but Harry just stood up straight and kept his mouth closed.

“I asked you a question,” the cop said as he stepped in closer to intimidate Harry. Harry smirked, his mouth kept closed and he jerked his head, motioning for the cop to step in even closer. The moment the cop was an inch from him, Harry leaned in and pressed his mouth to the cop’s. You watched Harry open his mouth and stick his tongue out and the cop jumped back and then punched Harry in the face.

The cop spit onto your floor and then looked at Harry, who now had a bloody nose, “What the fuck was that you piece of shit?!”

Harry laughed and licked his lips before he spoke slowly and clearly, “That was my come. Tastes pretty good doesn’t it?”

The cop gagged and bent forward before looking back at Harry and lunging toward him but the other police officer grabbed the offended cop and held him back, “He’s lying to you! He’s just trying to get a rise out of you. Stop!”

The two cops escorted Harry out of your apartment but not before Harry turned back to you and winked, “I’ll see you around, doctor.”

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targaryen-realness · 1 year

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Witchling Chapter 2

Title: Witchling

Pairing: Osferth x Druidess!Reader

Warnings: Canon depiction of violence, mention of slavery, wounds and scars, magic, historical innacuracy (sorry medieval Scotland is not my specialty), talk about faith and christianity. The reader is fem but there is no physical description except for the fact she is a scot from the Highlands.

Summary: As they are riding away from Winchester, Osferth and Lord Uhtred’s group come across a mysterious woman. She needs help but the power within her is obvious. Captivated, Osferth hopes she will stay, but as Uhtred asks her to travel with them, he cannot help but wonder what is going on in his lord’s head.

For the first time in forever, you slept well and without too much interruption. Your mind was still plagued by the men that tormented you for months, even a year maybe, you had no idea how much time had passed. At the beginning of your captivity, after the death of your brother you wished for freedom. There was nothing you wanted more than to leave this place for good. England had hurt you too much already. Then, after weeks of abuse, of being forced to use your powers against your will and even more, you had wished for death. You had never been scared of it, well aware that like every being you were a part of a greater cycle. Death was never the end, but you wished it had been yours. After, you wished for revenge. This need for retribution had guided you through this nightmare. The prospect of one day killing every man that had wronged you, to avenge your brother, was what kept you alive. It was that same feeling that got you up that morning to kill Baltair, your third captor. You still remembered his blood gushing out of his neck as you slided it open. The look on his face, surprise and terror. You spate on his face before running as fast as you could. You knew you could not kill them all today. But it was only a matter of time. You ran as fast as you could until your feet were bleeding, your muscles sore, until you could not feel your body anymore. They still caught up on you pretty fast, of course they had horses and hounds. You wouldn’t be caught alive though. The moment where you decided to jump in that river was brief, a second or so, that ended in chaos.

This morning it is the cold that woke you up. There was some light outside and you could still hear the breathing of the others. It was oddly calming. You turned around to see who was lying next to you and without a surprise it was the young monk. He had led you to the room where everyone was sleeping just after your bath. He wished you a good night with a smile and left. You did not hear him come back later, you must have slept deeply. You stood up as silently as you could and left the room. Lord Uhtred was already up, eating something at one of the tables. His witch was glued to his side and you could not help but cringe at the sight. You had never met a danish witch but you could tell she was bad news. She was dangerous. A pretty face was most of the time enough to mess with the minds of men. Adding magic abilities to that was an assured disaster. You knew what you were talking about. You never manipulated any men, you could not cloud their minds like she was doing. If you could, you would have done it a long time ago. You belonged to no one, and no one except yourself could use your powers, now you were sure of it. Your captors did not have access to most of your abilities because you did not want to. Now you were free and ready to fight.

“Well, look who is up! Come here seer. Sit down.”

“Thank you again for the clothes.

-Do not worry. You were not going to stay in your”, he marked a pause smirking “dress”.

You smiled and accepted the plate he was giving you. You ate in silence, still conscious of the eyes of the other witch on you. You did not know why this lord was so kind to you but there was one thing you had learned. Nothing came for free in this world. You knew that too well and you were ready to pay for it. You were just nervous about not knowing what price you were going to pay.

He could see you were curious about who they were talking about.

“Aethelflead is the daughter of Alfred, king of Wessex” Osferth said to you.

You looked at him surprised. He already felt bad for even thinking of trying to ignore you.

“You all know king Alfred and his family?

-Yes of course.

-Sorry, I don’t know much about what has happened in England lately.” you said trying to make the situation a bit more humorous. As if it was not because you were a slave that you didn’t know any of this.

“I worked for Alfred for a bit. We have a complicated relationship.

-I see. Kings are complicated anyway.

-But you know girl, you don’t need to go to Winchester to meet the blood of Alfred” said Finan, already laughing. Osferth looked at him internally praying for him to shut his mouth. His prayer fell in deaf ears apparently.

“This boy right here.” he put his hand on Osferth’s shoulder “Is Alfred’s bastard”

You seemed genuinely surprised. You looked at him, your mouth slightly agape.

“You are the king’s son?

-Just his bastard.

-That is crazy. So Aethelflead is technically your sister?

-We- We don’t have that kind of relationship.”

You hummed in understandment. You did not insist more simply asked:

“Where are you going now?

-We are joining Alfred at Eashine. The rest of my men are joining us right now.”

They left soon after, and to Osferth delight, you were riding with him this time. Apparently it was because Finan needed to be free of his movement if there had to be a problem. There had been no problem, the ride was long but calm, so much so he had all the leisure to enjoy the feeling of you pressed against his back. You had kept quiet most of the ride except for the sweet laugh you let escaped everytime one of the men said something silly. He could feel it, the rumble in your chest before he could hear the sound so close to his ear. He politely asked you if everything was alright from time to time and you simply hummed in response. You even put your chin on his shoulder at some point trying to see what was in front of you. He could now see the fortress of Eashine in the distance, catching up with Finan and Sihtric in the front. Lord Uhtred stopped on his horse as they kept going, the danish witch still at the front of the retinue.

“I think she may have got herself inside his head” said Finan, not letting her out of his sight.

Osferth felt you move, turning your head toward Finan surely.

“He should kill her and be done with it.

-That will not kill the curse” answered Sihtric.

“There is no curse”

The words came out of his mouth before he could stop himself. He could feel your eyes burn at the back of his head.

“And if I say there is no Christian God, does that make it so?” answered the danish man next to him. But Osferth simply said:

“There is no curse Sihtric.”

Sihtric moved on his horse looking back at Osferth.

“I’ve seen women throw a curse and the next day a man is dead”

As he said it, his eyes moved slightly from Osferth to you. He could not see your reaction but he felt you move your head slightly. He wondered for a bit, if you had ever cursed a man. Was this magic even real? You did not answer.

“Right, that is enough talking. To speak of it makes it stronger” said Finan, putting a term to the discussion. They arrived at the gates before the night fell completely. Before the entered, he heard Finan say to you:

“You are going to meet Alfred, for your own good, do not mention what happened to you, where you are from, what you do, and hide those marks and that necklace of yours. If they ask you, you are a christian.”

You didn’t answer but you nodded. He felt your hands fist his cloak harder, maybe from anxiety and he wished he could have comforted you more. You were now officially in enemy territory.

You were expecting a lot of things when you arrived at Eashine but not to attend a war council as soon as you stepped off of your horse. You had no intention of speaking of your gifts or where you were from but Finan’s words confirmed your fear. Christians should not know who you were and for that you should make yourself as small as possible and not speak at all. Your accent would make it too obvious. You intended to stay glued to Osferth’s side, being near a monk would maybe help you pass for a good christian. Sadly he had been invited to that gathering with the king of Wessex, his non bastard son, and a man called father Beocca that Uhtred had mentioned earlier. You decided to sit next to Sihtric, his very obvious pagan aura could maybe hide yours. You hide your ogham necklace inside your robe and with the cloak Osferth gave you before entering the room you tried to dissimulate the marks that punctuated your skin. You were trying to make sense of what they were saying, but your mind was elsewhere. It was on the witch outside of the room. You knew, from the moment you set your eyes on him, that lord Uthred was cursed. It only became more obvious when you saw her. You had no idea why you were here this morning but you started to get why Lord Uthred was keeping you close. The price you will have to pay was getting clearer. You just did not know if you would succeed in paying it. Even more now that you realised the kingdom of Wessex was at war. You obviously knew of the danish invasion. Inverness had been attacked numerous times, and you knew there were countless danish settlements where you were from. Your father and brothers had all fought against the danes. Wessex seemed to be their favourite though, and apparently the king was not ready to face the war. He was dying, anyone could see it, but just by looking at him, you knew the sickness that plagued him. Alfred of Wessex would not see another summer. The way he would die was still uncertain. The king would probably die in his bed, but you could see a distant future, where he could be slayed on the battlefield. You did not need your gift to know that the kingdom could fall with his king, you just needed to look at his son, the legitimate one. He looked eager but lost in the shadow of his father.

“They will not attack here.

-Why not ? The king is here. That would be a good occasion to get rid of him.

-This is a fortress, Blood hair will not come to sacrifice his men for nothing. -What if he just decided to burn the place down?

-He will not. Not now that we have his woman.

-Who is she? Is this her?”

You felt your heart skip a beat.

“No it’s not. This is” Uhtred looked at you and you could see the question in his eyes.

“Mary” blurted Osferth.

Everyone looked at him including you, surprised but grateful.

“Mary is travelling with us for now.”

You could feel the eyes of the king on you but he did not say anything else.

“This is about the other woman then.

-Yes, she is his sorceress, a seer.

-The simple mind of a Dane believes in signs, Edward. If a bird flew from their camp to ours, they would see it as a sign and follow. They would march into battle all because a seer caught sight of a bird.”

You wanted to laugh. There was no pride like christian humility. You wanted to say to this man that you saw his death, and not because a crow travelled east today, but you hold your tongue. Sihtric next to you felt you tensing, but he did not say a thing, simply side eyed you to see your reaction. You must have mastered the art of looking innocent because he soon returned his gaze to the fire in front of him.

“Sigurd is blind. There can be no battle.”

You were bored. Men and their wars, their battles. If you asked them, they would tell you they were doing it for peace, for unity, but you knew the truth. You saw the real colours of men’s hearts. They did not desire peace as much as they enjoyed the act of war itself. You kept listening, knowledge being power. You would not be thrown into a conflict completely blind. You knew that some men probably were wondering why you were there, in a room full of soldiers, in the affairs of men. But you held your tongue, and tried to look as clueless as possible. Soon the discussion was over and you were back outside. Uhtred was obviously in a disagreement with the king, as he thought that attacking first would avoid greater evil. You were not sure of it, sharing the same opinion as king Alfred on the matter. What you were more suspicious about was the fact he wanted to see Skade himself, so you stayed at a distance when Uhtred walked him toward her cell.

“What are they doing?

-Alfred said he’d like to hump the witch. No word of a lie”

You had to put your hands in front of your mouth to contain your laugh. Finan smiled back at you.

“Are you alright? It was not a pleasant encounter for you I suppose”, Osferth asked you.

You smiled sheepishly, getting closer from the fire.

“It’s alright. Christians exist even in the kingdom of Alba.

-You really saved the day, baby monk, right Mary?

-Yes! Thank you for that actually.”

You saw the blush creep on his cheeks as he averted your gaze. You wanted to thank him properly but you were scared he would combused on the spot.

“I panicked actually. It was instinct mostly. I thought of the most christian name possible.

-And you did right! But when are you going to tell us your name? We can’t call you Seer in front of those people, and you do not look like a Mary.” Finan said, his voice quiet enough so only the four of you could hear him.

You looked at Osferth, tilting your head on the side playfully.

“You could have told them my name, you know.

-He knows your name?

-I told him yesterday after my-

-We met in the corridor after supper.”, he said, his eyes round with panic. You smiled at him and he looked away quickly.

“Stop with the mystery! Tell us.

-I fear you will be disappointed after all those expectations.

-You would never disappoint me little draoi.”

You could hear the flirtatious tone he used but it was the gaelic that made you truly smile.

“It’s Y/n”

You smiled as Osferth said it. He looked so bashful all of sudden as he wasn’t looking at you when he said that but at Finan.

“Little Y/n! And for our ears only!”

You laughed. You haven’t laughed that much in what seemed an entire lifetime, and you loved it. You knew you should not. You were supposed to be cold and revengeful. Focus on your goal. Sad. You were supposed to mourn your brother and the life that was stolen from you. But you weren’t. You were on your way toward happiness, new people creeping their way into your loving heart.

“Aren’t you wondering what Alfred is doing ? Why does he want to see her?”, you asked, wondering why the oh so pious king would want to see a danish witch, the embodiment of what he despised with such ardour.

“Told you he wanted to hump her.

-Maybe he just wants to see her up close. He is curious.

-I don’t know. I think it’s more than that.”

You marked a pause, wondering if you should keep quiet.

“Maybe he is going to ask her a question.

-You mean that he would trust the opinion of a seer?

-I think that desperate men can do a lot of surprising things”

The moment you said the words, the king came out of the cell and with him the scream of the witch. You almost jumped out of your skin as her voice elevated in the night sky. A sinister cry for her master to come save her. The night was going to be short and agitated.

“When can I bind her mouth shut?” asked Sihtric, expressing the need of everyone around. You were becoming more uneasy by the second, the words of the witch reverberating in your very core. The world was shifting, the balance of nature disturbed by her words. You had a part of yourself that was admirative. She was powerful. You would always admire powerful women. Especially when you witnessed the ardour with which men would slaughter each other for them. But there was darkness within her. In her powers. You were seeking your abilities from nature, from the gods themselves, you were not sure she was doing the same, as even if she was clean of it, her very essence reeked of blood and viscera.

“Let her sing.

-That is not singing” answered Osferth.

Even though you did not want to make him uneasy, which seemed to be the result every time you were near him, you still chose to stand close to him. You were feeling calmer, his tall and lean body shielding you from Skade on the bulwark. He had even given you a fur to put on top of your cloak, courtesy of lord Uhtred apparently, but he was still the one who gave it to you.

“Here is a bit of a loose talk for you”

You had not seen the man approached and you understood why when you looked at him. He was plain and had the same energy as a rat. Sneaky and bringer of disease. Without a word, he stood next to Uhtred sure that you would be interested in this conversation.

“Sigebriht there, son of whoever, would like to rip the innards from young Edward’s belly. Would you like to know why?”

You screamed “no” inside your mind so hard you feared they heard it. Uhtred seemed as uninterested as you all were because he said no, already looking bored out of his mind.

“Edward, the non bastard son of Alfred”, he looked at you when he said that and you wanted to throw a rock at him.

You had grown up in a wealthy family, both your parents had been married for years now, and your father had never had any bastards that you knew of. You were from a big family anyway, you already had plenty of siblings to care about. It was something that was non important anyways. But this stranger was mean. He just wanted to remind Osferth that he was a bastard and that during his entire time here, his father had ignored him. It was full of disdain and you hated that.

“He has whelped twins on the girl whom Sigebriht did love.

-And does Sigebriht still love this girl?”

The words of Osferth put an end to the conversation thankfully. But sadly as he looked at you and you at him, you did not see the man coming closer.

“We have not been properly introduced, my lady. My name is Aethelwold. I did not quite catch yours?”

You hesitated for a bit. If you spoke, he would know, and you felt that if there was one person you should avoid revealing too much, it would be this one.

“Mary”, you said simply, trying to imitate the accent you heard until now.

He looked at you with suspicion but did not say anything else to you directly. You saw the smile that appeared on his features as he turned around.

“If she is to be passed around, send her to my room first”

You stayed calmed, but in your mind you were already murdering him. You said nothing, only shifting closer to Osferth who was now shielding you from Aethelwold view. Finan came out of his corner too, his impressive build and his less than sympathetic look was the last straw because you saw the rat start to walk away. You knew you should not have, but you still did. As he was strutting away, you muttered a few words in gaelic. Your gaze focused on his form, your words came out of your mouth, and he slipped on the ground falling on his back. You heard instant laughter but turned around before anyone could see you.

“This just made my night so much better”, said Sihtric, finally coming closer.

You did not miss the eyes of Uhtred on you as you took a step back.

Finally lord Uhtred had given the order for the witch to be put back into her cell. Osferth felt agitated, and not only because of the lack of sleep or the screams of the witch. He damned Aethelwold internally for what he had said to you. He wished he could have had the courage of standing up more for you, but he felt it was not his place. He still checked on you after, and you assured him it was okay. You seemed sincere and he thanked the lord for that. Soon they found themselves in a more isolated part of the court. Lord Uhtred had given the order for them to seek for food and that’s how they got around the fire with no one around.

“Why get away lord?

-We need to talk.

-And we could not do this where we were before?

-Not if I want to ask our dear seer some questions.”

You looked up from your bread focusing on them.

“What do you want to ask me exactly?

-I think you already know.

-Yes, but I need details.”

Osferth was lost, and apparently so was Finan and Sihtric. Did you two have a discussion without any of them knowing?

“Ask away.”, said lord Uhtred, taking a big sip of his drink.

“When did it happen?

-A few days ago.

-What did she say exactly?

-About the curse?

-Yes, her exact words.”

They all looked at each other trying to recall.

“She said he was cursed. That she holded his heart in her hand and she would squeeze it and break it, I think.” answered Osferth trying to remember the scene.

“She was holding a priest’s heart.”

You looked suddenly deep in thoughts. You were frowning, obviously displeased by what you were hearing.

“What do you think?

-I think you should have closed those doors and burned the entire church with her still in it”, you said, squeezing your own hands in an anxious motion.

“Please tell me something I don’t already know.

-If it is reassurance you want, I can already tell you that every curse can be broken. You are not doomed Uhtred Ragnarson.”

Everyone finally breathed again, probably realising that they were all holding their breath collectively.

“But how?

-It is the complicated part. You won’t be able to break the curse if the witch is not with you, so I would advise you to not trade her just yet.

-You can’t break the curse for him.”

You shook your head, closing your eyes.

“No, the curse is only lifted by the one who is cursed.

-I need to keep Skade.

-Yes. To be completely honest, I don’t think you would be able to stay far away from her for long. It is a curse. She wants you and the more you will resist the more you will lose your mind.

-Can’t he just give her what she wants then?

-If he wishes to lose himself completely, yes of course.”

Lord Uhtred looked suddenly very tired and Osferth felt really bad for him. He was scared. His lord was strong, the strongest man he knew for sure, but would he be able to free himself from that witch’s hold.

“I don’t know how exactly you are supposed to free yourself. But I have a way to know.

-How?”

It was the word of a desperate man, Osferth realised. Even though he was himself curious about how you would be able to learn such a thing.

“I need to ask the gods.”

The silence that followed was heavy.

“Do what you need to do.”

He didn’t say please, but Osferth understood and you seemed to do the same. You nodded and said you would start tomorrow to collect what you needed and that you would need their help to stay discreet. No one should know what you were doing and what you were. Osferth did not talk to you for the rest of the night and even if he wanted to, desperately, he could not. Even when you sat next to him on the bulwark, your body closer, seeking some heat. You ended up closer to Finan, and instant regret plagued him. He knew he was travelling with pagans. His relationship with his own faith was complicated since he left the monastery all those years ago. He still believed in god, he still believed in heaven and hell. He could not just fathom how anyone could think of pagans as monsters when you were one yourself. A heathen. One that holded his heart in her hand. Maybe he was as cursed as lord Uhtred. He could only hope you would have more mercy for his soul than Skade.

#the last kingdom #osferth the last kingdom #osferth x reader #finan the last kingdom #sihtric #the last kingdom fanfic #reader insert #witch reader #uhtred the last kingdom #uhtred of bebbanburg

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fryandleelasbigfling · 8 months

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there's an argument that i see recurring in the futurama fandom -- i think it's a minority opinion but i've seen it across multiple platforms, from multiple people, and it very much annoys me so i'm making my lengthy counterargument. this will be ranty and i apologize.

the idea that fry and leela are toxic because "leela wanted him to change for her" is such a weird and even reductive way to not just view the ship, but relationships in general.

(this is a long post, because i have a lot of Feelings on the topic, so i'll put a readmore.)

first off leela has always liked fry. maybe not romantically (there's signs that she had a crush on him early on, but it didn't get serious til way down the line), but she related to him, took pity on him, and quit her job for him (which! was! illegal!) because he gave her the courage to do so. in the second episode, he also helps her see the beauty on the moon, something she used to take for granted. she has always seen potential in fry to inspire her and open her eye to new possibilities.

but she still has a lot of hang-ups about fry, leading into the "she needed him to change" thing. here's the thing about fry and leela: leela does not force fry to change, she inspires fry to change, because she believes he can change. bender and leela are the first ones to meet fry and understand his situation, his loneliness, the feeling you don't belong anywhere. the difference is that while bender often indulges fry's more immature and selfish traits, leela is more willing to protect fry's safety and call him out on his stupidity. for some reason (probably projection), people think this is abusive. yes, leela can be hard on him (so can the entire crew, but for some reason, people only get mad when it's the female lead being mean), but it's because she's his captain and his friend and his recklessness often puts himself and others in danger. "my three suns" and "brannigan begin again" both showcase how dangerous it can be if fry (and bender) don't have leela to reel them in.

and i think fry is aware of this, and feels bad about it, so as the series progresses, he tries more often to take command and help her out when he can (i.e. learning to fly the ship). there's also "parasites lost" where he decides he only wants to earn leela's affection if it comes entirely from him, and i've seen the argument that this proves leela only likes him if he changes, but a lot of what fry said were his true feelings, so it's really setting up that leela could be attracted to fry if fry could understand his own feelings well enough to articulate them with confidence (and not bring up his exes in the meantime, lmao). even in the most recent episode, he cleans up his apartment for leela's sake.

people sometimes compare leela to michelle. they're both forceful but lonely women who often take authority over fry. but the difference is that michelle doesn't really see value in fry beyond manipulating him to make herself feel better by comparison. i'd also like to bring up morgan, who explicitly romanticized fry being a lazy slob... and fry never really looks that happy about it! he goes along with it because he goes along with pretty much anything (he explicitly says he dated her because he was desperate), but a relationship where his worst habits are indulged isn't what he wants or needs. fry has spent his whole life being told he's worthless, and he's kind of accepted that, but leela sees his good heart and charm and she does want that for herself, but she's also honest about what stands in the way.

and here's a bit of a personal note: i know many people who relate to fry are neurodivergent. i am too! and it can hurt being seen as "immature" or feeling like you have to conform to neurotypical standards to be accepted. but you know what else sucks? wanting to be better, but not knowing how to be better, and not having any motivation to be better. leela was that motivation. i struggled for years believing i didn't need to be better because my mental health issues were so intrinsic to my identity, and accepting that i can be Myself but still be Healthy was very useful. i find a lot of the fry-leela plot very empowering, as i like to believe there's someone who will like my quirks but also push me in the right direction. leela thinks fry is silly and stupid, and she often strongly disagrees with his tastes, but she is endeared by his unique approach to love because of how genuine he is about it all (see: her love for his office supplies dinner in "fry and leela's big fling," and even the bit with the wine glasses in bender's big score).

fry knows leela is also lonely and miserable, but that she appreciates his company, to the point he believes "she'll never be happy without me" (a mindset he outgrows as it makes him unhealthily jealous and clingy). the entire point of bender's big score is that, as messed up as lars is, leela is attracted to a version of fry who better understands how to talk to her, and this experience helps her appreciate fry a lot more going forward as she truly sees he has the potential to be a good boyfriend. she just needed to see it detached from fry himself. and fry learns to let leela be happy even before he knows about lars' identity! he is capable of growth on his own because he hates seeing her upset!

as for why leela takes forever to commit to him... well, with his impulsivity issues, unintentional rudeness, questionable hygiene, and internalized sexism, he takes a while to be the kind of person she's willing to date. and she's not entitled to him! yes, it is annoying how flippant she can be (though that's also an issue with the writers not wanting to commit), and she absolutely sucks at communication. but if we can take fry's background into consideration here, we also need to take leela's into consideration. she grew up alone, bullied, neglected, repeatedly told she was unloved, and multiple times she trusted someone who said they loved her, only to be discarded once they got what they wanted from her (i.e. sex and labor). she is also terrified of being judged and thus puts a lot of weight on being successful and normal, with her relationships being an extension of that. "the cyber house rules" is all about how she wants to be with a man who makes her look good. this is a character flaw she overcomes as all these men of high status treat her like dirt and she realizes fry is the one who cares about her the most, and she doesn't have to compromise just to be taken seriously.

but fry is her best friend, the only one who really gets her (besides her parents), and she has a lot to lose if she dates him and it goes poorly, and she's too insecure to trust that she's worth it. which is why it's great that fry becomes a better person for her! she deserves to be treated with respect! and episodes like "fun on a bun" show that not only does fry change for her, he also helps her loosen up in turn, and let herself act more carefree and childish after having to grow up and conform to society so fast. "the impossible stream" also shows leela making an effort to be less judgmental, even if she worries fry could be in danger. so it is definitely not just fry who changes for this relationship.

generally i think people who hate leela and make her out to be so emotionally abusive are projecting something personal that isn't there and missing the scope of fry and leela's complex relationship, and it feels unfair. especially when other (male) characters who do the same things and worse (particularly bender) get a pass. she's far from perfect, and that makes her a great character, but she grows and learns, and so does fry -- because they want to learn and grow for each other's sake.

#futurama #freela #turanga leela #philip j fry #fry #leela #swatting at a space bee hive with this take ig #analysis

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wickedsrest-rp · 7 months

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Name: Archie Kinsella Species: Zombie Occupation: Fighter at the Grit Pit Age: 28 Years Old Played By: Joey Face Claim: Taylor Zakhar Perez

"I only know how to exist when I'm wanted."

TW: Sibling death, drug abuse, self harm

Mother? Father? The Kinsella twins knew nothing of this concept, and they never did learn its true meaning. Stability was not something anyone was able to offer them. The one constant, the only predictable variable in their story, was each other. Two boys, indistinguishable if it wasn't for the stark differences in demeanour. Leon, the quieter, the smarter, firm from a young age in his position as protector. Archie, the louder, the attention seeker, always in need of protecting, always emotional and near uncontrollable.

This continued into their teenage years, where their constant hopping of homes and families and schools had hardened them. They grew physically, and they learned what they could do with their fists. It was Archie who would throw a punch first, no longer the small, fragile boy that Leon was so used to protecting. But it didn't stop Leon's desire (or need) to control the only thing that he could control outside of himself: his brother. The twins garnered notoriety as they grew into their anger, and while Archie was infinitely more volatile, it was Leon that made others most nervous. That smart young boy had turned into something wicked, a schemer, a manipulator. Some used to say that there was a devil in that boy, or something worse, with the way he could remain so calm as he inflicted pain. Leon was remorseless, while Archie was ever-plagued by guilt and other horrors.

The moment they turned eighteen, they were thrown to the wolves, abandoned for good. Not that they ever knew support to begin with. The Kinsellas struggled with their Dublin life, finding odd jobs that just about kept them afloat. But with Archie's inability to keep a job and his almost non-existent impulse control, money was always a stressor. It drove the twins into dark, dangerous corners of Dublin. It was in these dark and dangerous corners that Archie was attacked. Violence, he was no stranger to. But he couldn't say he had ever been bitten before. Unbeknownst to him, that bite would become so much more, and take so much away from him. For the time being? He told no one, he thought nothing of it. It was just another mark someone had left on him.

Leon had a bright idea, he moved them across the Atlantic, setting foot on American shores. He was not naive enough to believe in the American dream, but clever enough to see the parts of this system he could use for his benefit. But that variant of the American dream was cut short. Archie found himself in the wrong place at the wrong time. In of itself, not unrealistic for a trouble magnet like him. Except that time, Archie didn't miraculously make it out alive. And yet, he stumbled home after the fact. He doesn't remember the events of that night even to this day. All he knew, all that plagued and still plagues, was coming to, glistening red on his hands that he thought should feel warm but felt cold like every other part of him. Confusion was what came first, but when he clocked the source of the blood, he broke entirely. Nothing could describe the pain of his futile attempts at shaking his brother awake. But Leon would never open his eyes again, not now that his brain was gone and consumed.

Archie had a hard time coming to terms with it all. He relinquished his already weak grip on reality, because detachment was the easiest option. How was he supposed to face being alone when he was never built for it? He was not his brother, he was not careful nor meticulous. For a time, he thought shadowy figures were following him, so he hops from town to town. In reality, he was running from police who knew too much and too little all at once.

He wouldn't have been able to tell you how he ended up in Wicked's Rest, and if he tried to explain, most would write him off as not all there. But there is no one he can trust with the story of his loneliness, his life without Leon. Sometimes Archie thought he could see him too, bloody and mangled just how Archie left him. Sometimes he allowed himself to play pretend and live in a world where Leon still stood at his side, still protecting. Sometimes Leon didn't look so dead. There was no drive to protect himself, there never has been, and sometimes Archie would go searching for danger because it was then that Leon's voice was strongest, even if he was berating. But Archie was quick to learn that he healed fast, and limbs would grow back. Cursed from birth, cursed for eternity.

Character Facts:

Personality: Affectionate, gregarious, loyal, daring, resilient, hot-headed, sensitive, impulsive, obsessive, volatile.

Has very noticeable ADHD and has struggled with mental health issues since a young age. He was failed by the system.

Hasn't lost his accent one bit and has had some trouble with people understanding him if he speaks too fast.

He's got a super shitty 1 bedroom flat in Worm Row that he spends as little time in as possible because he can't stand to be alone. He's usually got Wade with him if he can.

He's got a big ass fucking dog. Wade (affectionately named after Archie's favourite comic book character: Deadpool) is a mostly chill, not super well trained Alaskan malamute mix. Archie found what he thought was a husky puppy abandoned in a bush, cried, and took the then small animal home. Turns out he's a little bigger than a husky. Wade's presence in Archie's life has been a blessing and a curse. A blessing because Wade gives unconditional love and has been able to calm Archie in times of great emotional distress. And a curse because Archie lives in a near constant fear of losing control and killing Wade too.

He tends to keep himself well fed, if anything for Wade's sake, and exclusively feeds on humans, not animals, and he'll never try animals as long as he can help it. But Archie is not smart, he is not good at covering his tracks. Someone help him. He is however, pretty efficient at killing, albeit messy.

Archie also has a tendency to use his undeadness as a party trick, which contributes to deterioration of his appearance. Scars were always present on his body, but his new found healing ability has left him with new ones where some parts of him haven't healed quite right, leaving skin discoloration over some parts of his body.

Grew up very much a lad and has retained a lot of those behaviours and ways of dressing himself, but since figuring out he's gay, he's found freedom to dress the way he wants to. Wears a lot of joggers and hoodies for comfort and has a lot of plain clothes, but gives the illusion he's comfortable in his own skin by wearing open shirts, mesh tops, and bright colours, mostly in clubs.

He'd turned to drugs long before he died, and since turning undead that addiction has not subsided. He's searched for the same highs with normal drugs with not much effect.

#sibling death tw #self harm tw #drug abuse tw #retired

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random-thought-depository · 1 year

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The movie Island of Lost Souls (an adaptation of The Island of Dr. Moreau) was on TV last night. I really approve of how they handled the animal-people rebelling against Dr. Moreau!

The catalyzing incident is that Dr, Moreau commands one of the animal-people to break Moreau's own law and kill a human (the same animal-person earlier attempted to break into the room of Moreau's human female "guest"; it's implied that Moreau ordered him to rape her, as part of his experiments). From this the animal-people learn that normal humans can die, and extrapolate that Dr. Moreau also can die, and his power over them is broken; the next time he shows up to order them about and threaten them with his whip, they do not obey him, and they attack him, chase him into his own "house of pain," restrain him to his own operating table, and kill him with his own surgical instruments, inflicting on him an ironic reversal of the torments he inflicted on them. I also see a possible unstated subtext that the animal-people have more respect for Moreau's laws than Moreau did; they rebelled when they realized Moreau would break his own laws the instant they become inconvenient to him, that his laws were always just a tool he used to manipulate and control them. This is almost the only violence we see the animal-people do under their own initiative (and the exception is something that's also easily interpreted as Lota taking revenge on somebody who abused her on Moreau's orders - though I'll note I missed the first ten minutes or so of the film, so I might have missed something). The most clearly objectionable and monstrous violence comes from Dr. Moreau!

I find it interesting to compare this to the 1996 The Island of Dr. Moreau movie, which felt like it basically went with a centrist-brained "Yeah, Dr. Moreau is kind of bad, but revolutionary violence is also bad and scary, and the animal-people are ugly and scary-looking so they're probably bad, so really, who can say who the real villain here is?" take. Island of Lost Souls had a more implicitly positive attitude toward the animal-people and their revolutionary violence, and a more implicitly condemnatory attitude toward Dr. Moreau!

On that note, interesting to note the differences between how the two films presented Dr. Moreau. In the 1996 movie he comes across as kind of an out-of-touch old weirdo who doesn't realize how dangerous the situation he's created is. Island of Lost Souls feels like it has a clearer idea that Dr. Moreau is an abuser, he knows exactly what he's doing, and when he finally messes up and gets himself killed it's through underestimating the cleverness, and, perhaps, the humanity of his victims, in a way that rings pretty true for the kind of mistake an arrogant abusive petty tyrant might make. Motherfucker makes his electricity by chaining people up and forcing them to turn a crank!

Also interesting to note that the movie does something pretty close to just letting the animal-people win and benefit from doing that. It throws in a line about how soon the fire will destroy all of Moreau's work but, really, it's pretty easy to interpret the ending as the animal-people kill Dr. Moreau and end his tyranny over them, are liberated, survive, and are left to try to build their own society without him, basically getting about the happiest ending for them that they plausibly could have.

Side note: watching the scene where Lota throws the book in the pool gave me the same kind of feeling I got reading The Sisters of Dorley. I was like, man, if that was me I think I'd be better at solidarity than this protagonist, I'd realize the abusive cult leader is probably not going to just let me leave after what I've seen, I'd realize that me and Lota are likely both Moreau's victims and thus likely have common interests, I'd be less condescending about her probably not knowing what a radio is and I'd suggest that building one is a possible escape strategy for both of us, when I saw her claws I would not tattle on her to the people she's clearly afraid of for reasons that should be pretty easy to imagine given what this guy has already seen so far.

I feel like there are actually some very striking parallels between Dorley and Moreau's cult and there's probably an interesting gender studies essay in poking at that. Could totally see the Dorley girls having some kind of ritual where they recite some code of conduct with each rule accompanied by the rhetorical question "Are we not women?" or giving their surgeon an aggressively cutesy-feminine pink novelty mug with "Hers is the hand that heals. Hers is the hand that hurts," written on it in fancy text with a couple of heart symbols next to it.

#Island of Lost Souls #The Island of Dr. Moreau #The Sisters of Dorley #I read/watch something

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punemy-spotted · 3 years

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The Price You Pay

Pairing: Mob!Steve Rogers x Reader

Warnings: Non-con/Dub-con, mentions of murder, unclear timeline, blackmail, unprotected sex, fingering (F!receiving), smut, esoteric references to past abuse, manipulation, Dark!Fic

Words: 5.2k (holy fuck?)

Summary: You need his help. He names his price.

Notes: This is for @stargazingfangirl18 and her incredible 5K Soft!Dark Challenge and I can't believe I wrote over 5k words for a oneshot, making this the longest piece I've ever written. I took a blend of prompts: Mob!AU; “When I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this;” and “That’s a big favor you’re asking for, I think you need to make it worth my while.”

And this was intended to be a oneshot but now I can't stop thinking about it so thanks Siri, I think this is now a part of my WIPs too! Your work is amazing and I had a blast being able to take part in this!

As usual, my work is 18+ ONLY, Minors DO NOT INTERACT

You went to him first.

You went to him, handed them your business card and I want to speak to Steve Rogers.

Honestly they almost threw you out with an extra hole in your head but then the man of the hour walked right in.

So now you’re here. Now you’re here, sitting across a gorgeous dining table with a ten-course meal laid out and honestly you’re surprised they didn’t tie your wrists to the arms of the chair while you watch him eat and take in the look of those baby blue eyes scanning you over.

He even brought you non-alcoholic rosé, when you said you didn’t drink.

So.

You wanted to talk to me?

Yeah, I do. Thought you’d just sit me in your office, have a consultation.

I like breaking bread with new friends. Have a nice dinner, get the wine flowing — of course, that’s not gonna loosen your tongue, but we’ll forgive it.

Oh. Cool, I like being forgiven.

He laughs at that one and the room, strumming with tension, snaps into amusement. So do you, cracking a half smile on dark red lips, before swallowing down the lump of anxiety threatening to break through and destroy everything. You need this. You need this and you can’t let anything — not your nervousness, not your morals, not him — stop you. You need this and it needs to be done and if this is what justice is in this fucking city then so be it.

Well, sweetness, you’ve got my attention. You want to talk business or pleasure?

That one makes you laugh, a little sharp and a little cruel, and the curling smirk on his face gets a little furrowed because he hears it too — pain.

It could be both, you say finally, picking up the glass of rosé-that-wasn’t, if your reputation is as real as they say it is.

He lifts a bite of cheesecake into his mouth and lets it melt on his tongue while he watches you, somewhere between impressed and incensed. You know the look — you saw it the last time he met you in court, but you weren’t there as allies then. Never thought you’d come to me, he admits finally, sounding halfway bemused at the idea, but you’re full of surprises, aren’t you, Counsel?

You wince, or maybe smirk, eyes on the man before you.

It’s a game, a dance, a ruse, and the woman you thought you were thirteen months ago when you put four of Steve Rogers’s best men in jail for fifteen years — fifteen years longer than any District Attorney had ever managed to do before you, and you were just the rookie they handed a shit case to — is leagues different from the woman you are now, seated prim and proper in the lion’s den.

You’re not innocent. That’s not been your game for years — this life doesn’t leave room for innocence, it tears at you, leaves you tired and broken and ill.

Your colleagues learned to fear him a long time ago, the man before you. Captain America, leading the city, the country, the world into a new era of high tech crime all under his thumb. It’s a pretty shiny shield, the one that sits behind him, but mirrors are black on the other side and his soul is dark as coal.

You’re not an angel yourself, and this deal with the Devil isn’t for anyone but you.

I need someone taken care of.

So you come to me? I thought you were a lady of morals, Counsel.

Certain kinds of morals.

You can see him smile, see the way he raises his glass, the glimmer of malice and amusement in his eyes. So tell me. What’s the name?

You give it.

He’s not in the city, your target, but he will be. A Judge, an activist, real tough-on-crime-sweet-on-justice type of shit. You don’t tell him the reasons why, because those are yours, but you tell him the name. You tell him he’s a problem, you tell him he’s dangerous, you tell him you’ll pay to have him taken care of, you tell him you don’t want to practice in front of that black, black robe.

And he smiles like the Devil he is, watches you with a grin and drinks his whiskey in one last shot before slamming it down, Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

You said that when we met the first time.

He’s a hunter, you can see it in his eyes. That lion’s mane might be tamed right now but it won’t be for long and you’re playing with wild animals. The eyes on you are ice and daggers, daring you to do the one thing everyone in the office has been begging you not to do.

(Drop the charges, Rookie, the case is just to get your face in front of the judge.)

You upped the charges.

(Rookie, you don’t know what you’re dealing with, there’s other cases.)

You subpoenaed his phone records.

(Rookie, don’t make me drag you off this case!)

You won.

You had no witnesses and a jury you had to drag in from god-knows-where after you proved, over and over again, that he’d paid off the cohort in the courtroom. Finding people with nothing to lose and a desire to do their civic duty wasn’t harder than you thought — it was exactly as impossible as you expected.

But you did it.

That’s what you do, isn’t it? Push and push and fight, claw your fingers at the ledge and pull yourself up, you pay for your crimes in your blood, sweat and tears you pay for the things you could have done then and didn’tdo.

You pay.

And sometimes, that payment bounces back.

And when it was all said and done, when the closing statements were delivered, when the Jury came back out and the Judge — hands shaking, mouth agape, eyes wide — read out the verdict no one expected, you… didn’t feel any better, did you? There was no justice for you in that room, just the searing glare of ice-blue eyes and the burning of your steel spine.

Real woman of the law, aren’t you?

First words he said to you, while the courtroom emptied out and you stood there, facing the man you’d just made an enemy of with your briefcase in your hand and your eyes aflame.

I did my job.

Did you? Is that what you think your job is?

My job is justice, unflinching and blind, Mr. Rogers. I don’t care how much power you have or how afraid you leave this city, I’m going to do my job.

You could always let justice turn a blind eye.

Yeah. I could, but that wouldn’t make this any fun, would it? Thank you for the win, Mr. Rogers — I’m sure I won’t get many more.

You leave him with a smile on his face and the scent of your perfume in his memories.

He leaves you with the pride of victory in your bones and a reminder that your strife could be worth it.

One day.

How do you plan to fill that pit, the one you tossed the corpses of your old self into? The one you let them claw up out of, to haunt you? Remind you?

You’re digging your own grave and you know it, but you won’t let Steven Grant Rogers be the first one to toss a handful of dirt over your corpse.

But now here you are.

In his dining room, enjoying dessert and some sort of after-meal coffee. In need of him…

This might almost have been a date, if not for the topic of conversation.

So. You want a Judge taken out. What if he’s already on my payroll?

Why would you keep a dead man in your pocket?

You like the sound of his laugh, and you don’t even have the excuse of wine to fall back on when it warms your core. Don’t admit it though, don’t say it aloud, don’t let him get an in. Be smart, cross your legs tighter, keep your eyes on the prize.

You’re so close to the finish line.

That’s a big favor you’re asking for, Counsel, I think you need to make it worth my while.

Worth your while?

I’m not a charity. And since you put the guy I usually use to handle these things behind bars for a few years—

You know I can get him out too.

That’s not payment, that’s putting things right.

You take a drink. Steady on, girl.

I’m leaving the DA’s office.

That stops him.

Oh that stops him good, and he looks fascinated. Interested. You’ve said something he can use as leverage and it’s not just about a job. That smirk on his face is smug and his eyes are darker and he has to know the impact that look has.

Can’t falter, don’t falter, don’t give in.

Am I allowed to ask why?

No.

You’ve done your research. You just don’t know why you’re thinking about it now. Steven Grant Rogers, “Captain America,” leader of a crime family that had too many names to stamp out, bolstered by a mad scientist, a military man through-and-through who turned New York into his own private base against whatever stood against his way.

Get in his good graces and you’re set for life. Get in his good graces and you’re safe, you’re protected, you’re good.

Get on his bad side and you only make that mistake once.

There are no second chances in this game, and here you are, asking for one.

So what? You leave the DA’s office, you leave yourself open to me — you think leaving New York is going to be the thing that stops me, Counsel?

No.

Then what?

Breathe. Steady.

I know you gave me that win on purpose — you could have taken out my last jury cohort. This isn’t about the four men… and you know I’ll get them out. This is something else, but I’m not here to ask about what or why.

He falters just briefly, like he’s surprised you knew, but the crack in his mask smooths itself over as soon as it forms and he’s back to watching you, nodding along in silence while you breathe and watch him and keep talking.

But even then. I got four of your guys in prison. And I know how your organization works — I subpoenaed the documents, remember? Your lawyers are good, but they’re not used to people asking the right questions. You want someone to seal up the cracks you need someone who actually knows what to look for.

You have more than his attention, you have his interest, and now he’s leaning in a little. Imperceptibly, but enough. Scanning over you from across the table, like he’s thinking how you managed to get so impertinent in the face of the likes of him but that’s the thing — when the only thing you have left to lose is your life, you’ll risk everything.

So what are you offering?

Breathe. Don’t. Stammer.

Myself.

The chair scrapes and suddenly there’s the clicking of guns, aimed and ready until his hand rises up and he stops them and he’s stalking towards you.

This is the lion’s den, sweetness.

The stakes are higher and you ought to be braver and he’s got your chin in his hand before you have a chance to react, dragging you to your feet. Do you know what you’re offering me, Counsel? Low and hissed and hungry, like those perfect teeth might be sinking into your throat in the next moment.

Oh, you have no idea.

You get me. On your payroll — you know. The offer you sent me a year ago.

You think it’s still open?

If it wasn’t, you wouldn’t have met with me.

The chuckle in your face makes your cheeks warm and you’re looking more flushed than you would like, the open shoulders of your dress suddenly feeling a lot more like a mistake the more you realize just what kind of meal he might make out of you tonight.

We might need to have a discussion about your workplace duties, Counsel.

You don’t notice the hand near your thigh until it’s too late, sliding up the soft fabric of your skirt until it’s squeezing your ass, until it’s jerking you towards him, until you’re pressed against his chest and the hand on your chin is now hooked around the back of your neck, thumb pushing your jaw until you’re forced to look at him. Won’t lie, when I woke up this morning, I certainly didn’t think my day would end like this, having your pretty little body in my arms,and you can look as indignant as you want but he’s got the upper hand and you only thought you were two steps ahead of him.

You think I haven’t thought about what it’d be like to put you in your place, Counsel? You’ve got a smart mouth — I wanna know what else it can do.

He doesn’t give you a chance to use that mouth to lash at him, lips sliding over yours, swallowing that indignant yelp with a punishing kiss. Nipping at the plushness of your lower lip until you open your mouth and yield to him with a sigh of reluctant surrender, let his tongue slide past that barrier for him to explore. He’s got his fingers wound through your hair, just a little too tight and whether the whimper in your chest is because of the pain or because of the want, he doesn’t care.

Knew you’d be sweet, Counsel… softly, when he pulls back to look at you, take a look at those love-swollen lips and your ruined lipstick, the pretty way you pant at him already, the heat burning your cheeks. Pay no attention to the slick warmth between your thighs, pay no attention to the way he makes you burn already, pay no attention to how your fingers have curled into the lapel of his coat to hold yourself steady, pay no attention to how you suddenly miss the pressure of his lips.

All that smart-talk and now you’re quiet, Counsel? F’I knew it just took a kiss to get you to shut up, I would’ve done that at trial, he’s purring in your ear, soft and sweet and you should push at his chest, so uncurl your fingers girl and push.

I didn’t say I was selling my body, there’s your harshness, and there he is, laughing at you again, the grip on your hair jerking your head back until you’re looking into those dagger-cold eyes again.

You don’t make the rules here, Counsel, I do, and you need me more than I need you. So if you want to make sure your Judge can’t start wreaking havoc on your career… you might want to get used to readjusting it for me. I promise I’ll make you feel nice, if you let me…

And if I don’t?

Then I take what I want and I don’t feel bad for not holding up my end of the bargain. Your choice, Counsel, you cum willingly and I’ll give you everything you want. Don’t, and it’ll hurt you more than it hurts me.

That’s not a threat, that’s a promise, and suddenly you’re more scared than you ever thought you’d be, wondering if you’ll need to sell another part of your soul to take him down after. How much of yourself will you put up as collateral to get justice for the wrongs you were never able to correct?

You’re afraid.

Oh sweetness, you’re afraid.

Here? Now?

No, Counsel, we’re gonna do this right, aren’t we? You wanna be in bed with me, I’ll take you to bed with me. Come on, say it. Say the word.

Say no. Say no, rail and fight, stamp your heels into the expensive leather of his shoes, jam your knee into the sensitive between his legs, scream and yell and tell him you will never let another man take advantage of you again to help you reach your goals. Do it. Do the thing you swore you would do the next time a man like him — men who think they can take anything from anyone, men who think they own the world and the women in it, men who think you aren’t strong enough to fight back — propositioned you just like this.

You’re selling your soul to get rid of a man just like this.

But that’s coiling heat in your core that wasn’t there the last time, was it? That’s want. That’s the realization that you like the way this predatory smile feels, that you like the way this one wants you. You’re not her, not scared and alone and helpless. You could fight back and run and maybe escape if you were lucky.

You could choose.

He’s let go of your hair to stroke your cheek with the backs of his fingers, soft and sweet, You gonna give me an answer, Counsel, or am I gonna have to take it?

Say something. Say no. Scream. Say no say no say no say— Yes.

It’s a whisper. A desperate, soft whisper. A helpless, lonely whisper. It’s enough.

He sweeps you around until you’re pressed with your back against his unyielding chest, feeling him flex with every movement, broad arm wrapped around your shoulders from the front. All of you are dismissed, and that’s when you remember there were others in the room with you. Others who just watched you concede to becoming Captain America’s newest plaything and the burn on your cheeks is more shame than lust. You pull at his arm briefly, futilely, earning a tighter hold for your efforts and a whispered don’t make me choke you, before you are half-walked, half-dragged out of the dining room.

The walk to his room is slow and agonizing as you’re pulled along, barely struggling but barely helping at the same time, tears sliding down your cheeks as you come to terms with what’s going to happen next — no one is going to save you tonight, no one’s going to interrupt and drag you out, this is your job and this is your place and here you are.

No one speaks. There’s no sound but the steady tap of your heels and his shoes on fine marble. Even your sobs are silent, even your breathing is muffled, until the stairs are traversed and the faintest click of a lock turning opens the door to the rest of your life.

You made a deal.

Time to pay.

Sit on the bed.

You move as if in a trance, and he watches your face, the hint of waterproof mascara failing to do its job, the smudged ruby red of your lipstick. Don’t give me that look, you knew what you were signing up for when you walked into this house, Counsel.

His hands are gentler than you’d expect, when he wipes away the streaks your tears leave down your pretty cheeks, coaxing you to look up at him, We’ll set ground rules later. Tonight? I wanna see if I can get that mouth of yours to beg for me.

It won’t, you snap without thinking, knifeblade sharp and cruel, ready for a fight again. He promised you that once, in a hiss you thought you’d misheard but no, you heard him just fine and now if he thinks he can quench your fire and have you pleading just because you sold your body for the prospect of revenge then he’s wrong.

Thing is, he laughs like that’s a challenge, and the hand holding your chin so gently is wrapped around your throat before you know it, silencing your voice with just the right application of pressure. I can do this all night, Counsel. Do you think you can last that long?

Fear. Anger. Indignation. You are fury made flesh and he is manipulating you with just the barest press of his palm and sliding over you, until you’re laid out there on soft sheets and he’s looming over you, splaying that big hand out and sliding it down your throat, over your chest, feeling the ruching of the fabric under his palm. You wrapped yourself up like a present for me, didn’t you sweetness?

The change in nickname isn’t lost on you but here you are, glaring up at him while he smiles so beatifically it leaves your blood boiling and your skin steadily warming. The rise and fall of your chest is hypnotic, every angry breath a swear you don’t utter, every inhale your protests dying in your throat. What can you say, what would you say, right now? There’s nothing that can change the way he looks at you, or the way his eyes flicker from ice to blue fire the more he takes stock of the pretty little thing he’s about to start sharing his bed with.

Fuck, you’re beautiful, that one shocks you, but not as much as the sudden rush of cold air when he tears the emerald green fabric of your dress down and reveals the soft swells of your breasts, nipples peaked from the sudden cold.

You don’t get much time to gasp, just something soft and strangled before he turns your voice to whimpers, wrapping lips around that pebbled tip and laving his tongue over sensitive flesh. Where are your words now, Counsel, while he threatens the softness of your chest with the scrape of his teeth, when he slides his hands over the round curve of your thighs and parts your legs so he can press himself between them, so he can press himselfagainst you? Where is the knife-dagger of your wit to protest each soft, suckling kiss to your skin, each press of his fingers like he could just squeeze his ownership of you into the plushness of your hips, into the sweet swell of your ass? What do you say to the dirty little thrust of his hips as he bucks with his own burning need, reminding you just how much this is for hispleasure as he will make it for yours.

You would, could, should push him off and instead what are you doing? Curling your fingers into the silk-smooth of his comforter, desperate to writhe out of your own skin away from the burning pressure between your thighs, the foreign, unfamiliar heat you suddenly feel like you might be craving.

Anyone ever touch you like this before me, Counsel?Warm breath splays across your skin when he questions you, eyes fixed on yours and he waits. Answer him, answer him, tell him he’s nothing, tell him you’ve had better, lie and destroy that ego, lie lie lie lie—

Nnnh—no.

He looks like you’ve just told him the best news of his life, eyes wide and blown with lust, Oh is that right? You’re saying no one’s ever touched you this good? Or just no one’s ever touched you at all?

You don’t have to answer. The furious blush on your cheeks? The way your eyes slide away from his? The way you writhe, trying to press your thighs together to relieve the pressure and finding the effort futile? If the man’s grin could get any wider, it would, right now. Oh sweetness, we’re going to have so much fun exploring your body together…

He pulls back just enough to take a look at you, already flushed and writhing and overwhelmed and if he could take a picture of this right now he would. He’ll save that for later though. Tonight? Tonight is just the two of you, and his hands are back to your skirt, pushing the tight fabric up over your round hips and revealing the lace of your panties… just before he rips them off, to the sound of your indignant yelp Steve!

You’re going to call me Captain, sweetness, we’re not close enough to use my name just yet.

No. No you’re not, and he’s not sure you’ll ever be — he rather likes the idea of hearing you whimper out his title when he gets you desperate and wanting.

He touches, slow and steady, watching you try to jerk away and tutting at you when you do, fingers at your delicate nerves like an assault on your pleasure. Bite your lip, bite back the moans, whine at him like he’s wounded you, You’re so wet, sweetness, you’re so desperate for me aren’t you, as he palms his cock to relieve the pressure on himself. You’re going to beg before he does and he’s patient, he’ll last the night.

St-stop it, it’s too— he shushes you ahtahtaht and rests his free hand on your mound, holding you down so his probing, inspecting fingers can take stock of the velveteen plushness of your delicate cunt. It’s too much, too much and you want to scream the moment he presses one finger into you, already overwhelmed, already so tightly wound the barest touches are unraveling you steadily.

You’re such a pretty thing, all desperate and needy, sweetness. You wanna cum already, don’t you? So busy, never gave anyone the chance to fuck that stuck-up bitch right out of you, did they? It’s almost pitying, isn’t it, the way he talks, hums at you while you’re reduced to a whining, whimpering mess so soon, so desperate for the release he’s on the edge of denying you, feeling you flexing around his finger and then the second leaping jolt of your body when another joins the inspection. Taking careful stock of the pretty cunt he owns now, and he’s careful to curl his fingers just right as he seeks the spot to hammer just to get you to scream.

You don’t, not yet, but that’s okay too, because he sees the way you take desperate hold of the sheets, the way your eyes roll backwards just slightly, the way you strain against his heavy hand to arch your back. Gotta tell you, sweetness, I imagined you under me a thousand and one ways but this one, right now? Tops the list. You ready to beg for me?

Do it. Do it and end your pleasurable torment. Do it and be released from the pressure, the coiling want. Surrender to him. Let him have you.

The white hot rush of your orgasm is not unexpected to him, his curling, cruel fingers having found the sweetness of your g-spot, but — you, too busy climbing the ranks to think of your own pleasure, too busy demanding your due from an unjust world explore your own warmth beyond that of a memory of a college hookup you would rather forget — you left breathless and wanton in the heat of the explosion he draws out of you, mewling something desperate and pleading against your own will and the song of it fills his ears like it’s all he’s ever wanted. There it is, and I thought we’d be here all night. A thumb flickers over the nerves at your entrance and you practically jump, something between a yelp and a moan escaping your lips.

First one’s just a treat, sweetness. Now on, you cum when I say you do, understand?

You nod.

Oh you nod, and you are lost, here and now. Sensitive and broken and there is so little of that steel spine here, writhing in his sheets and ohyou don’t know the things you do to him.

Think you can go again, sweetness? He’s purring, smug, twisting fingers stretching you slowly, muttering under his breath about how fucking tight you are around his fingers, how good you’re going to feel for him, and the smugness on his face is slowly fading into a dark consternation, brows furrowed like he’s somehow angry at you for being plush and delicate and fuckable.

You’re almost begging him to stop, and yet the pressure is building again, the twisting, coiling heat that leaves you breathless and mewling and he looks like he might be trying to immortalize this moment forever. Say it, sweetness. Say you need me. Beg me for my cock.

That’s it.

That’s what you need to, you need to beg, you need to give in. No more fighting, no more arguing no more —

Please…

Please what, sweetness, come on now. You got a way with words. The snarl is so barely contained.

Please, Captain, please just…

What do you need, sweetness? The fingers are relentless, the buzz in your nerves is overwhelming, you can barely even hear yourself talk, much less him.

Please just fuck me, Captain, I need your cock! It’s hurried and it’s crude and it’s desperate and it’s exactly what he wants as just another wall crumbles and you fall off your pedestal right into his arms.

He’s barely able to resist the buck of his hips, the need to be inside you, the knowledge that you are soft and velvet and you could be all over his senses just like this.

When did he free his cock? You don’t know, you just know it’s practically salvation when he sinks into you, when he fills you like you’ve been desperate for and Oh sweetness…pours from his lips just as you hiss out something like praise right back at him.

You’re so full and he’s so gentle, at first, like you’re made of crystal in his arms, like the slow shifting of his hips might have you shattering underneath him if he’s not careful. Cradling you, even, sliding your legs around his narrow hips as he leans in and takes a hungry kiss from your wanting, whimpering mouth.

Love this look on you, all wrapped around me, whispered low and slow into your ear, sweetness you have no idea how good you look…

Melt into those compliments, melt into him, because the way he’s holding you is divine and you can feel him so deep in you it’s making your head spin. When did your arms end up around him? When did you start clinging to him like an anchor, start winding your fingers through his hair, start leaving the marks of your nails on his back to the sound of his own needy groaning?

He noses your cheek and leaves a mark of ownership on your neck with hungry lips, knowing you’ll bruise a beautiful flower right over your pulsebeat and continuing the steady assault on your nerves, cunt-first.

Harder. Faster. More.

And oh, sweetness, you do shatter.

You shatter all around him, you shatter into something divine and rapturous, full of him and filled with him and he cums so deep inside you as you do, still fucking you through your joined climax, hips rutting and breath hitching and nearly furious at you for the way his vision whites out too, the way he feels like he can Never get enough and so he hisses that at you like an accusation while his thoughts reorient back to reality, back to smugness, back to the control you took from him while he tried to strip you of yours.

In the end, as he pulls away from you and sinks to the side of you, watching your sweet expression as you return to the reality of your new situation, he is satisfied… thoroughly.

Oh yeah, I think we can make this a working relationship, Counsel.

#siris5ksoftdarkchallenge #steve rogers x reader #mob!au #mob!steve #steve rogers x you #steve rogers smut #dark!fic #dark captain america #captain america #writing challenge

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spunkpunx · 3 years

Text

I Don’t Share - Kai Anderson

Plot: Reader is the only person who Kai Anderson ever really listened to.

Word count: 1899

Warnings: SMUT, Manipulative reader, Smoking, Blood, Aggressive Sex, Mocking, It’s AHS Cult so it’s gonna be dark, Misogyny

I walked down the steps, into the basement. The place he dwelled. The dark web was a strange place, full of internet trolls, but something about Kai Anderson was different. Something in his words garnered attention, and now, it was time to find out.

“Hello?” I called out confidently. At this point in my life, nothing scared me, not even death, but my survival was important. After all, what could I achieve from beyond the grave? To be without fear is to be dangerous.

“Who are you?” a voice called out from the sofa. The man sat there was not the man I expected to see, and I was pleasantly surprised.

“Kai Anderson?” I queried, and he nodded. I had expected someone much less attractive, but Kai’s dark eyes, handsome face and fit body were all things that played into my hands. His eyes bore into me as I walked into the room and sat opposite him. he wore sweatpants, and his shoulder length hair was dyed blue.

“Answer my question, bitch,” he snapped at me, but I just looked at him disapprovingly, taking a cigarette from my pocket and lighting it. He glared at my lack of response, but I made sure to take my time before I replied.

“When a dog bites it’s master, they take it into the yard and put a bullet in its head,” I calmly spoke, resisting a smile at the taken aback expression on his face. The surprise soon turned into rage, and he stood up and grabbed me by the collar of my t-shirt, making me jump.

“I don’t even know you! No bitch will be the master of me!” Kai yelled, and I met his eyes with a level gaze. I gave him a look, a look of indifference, and he released me from his grasp. He stood above me.

“Sit down Kai, I’m not speaking to you until you sit.”

“Fuck off.”

I met his eye with a steely glare, and reluctantly, he took a seat the other side of the coffee table.

“Now, I’m (y/n) (l/n), and I came to see you because I need you,” I began to explain. Kai raised an eyebrow. “There’s something about you Kai, that shocks people, that commands attention, but you’re wasting it away sat sweating in this shitty basement.”

He leant foreword in his seat, starting to listen more attentively. It was almost too easy.

“Now I have a proposal, because I need you to realise your potential,” I continued, and he was captivated.

•

The cult had been running for just over a month. Of course, no one had identified it as what it was yet, but it was coming together as intended. When I first met Kai, I wanted to rile him up and let him lose to wreak havoc on the world, to scare people into action, but after speaking to him, I realised an intelligence more than I had initially thought. It was a waste not to push him forward into something on a national level. Of course, he had been harder to break than I first thought, but eventually I had had him wrapped around my finger using the only weapon women had against men, the weapon that sat between my legs.

Within the ring I took the position of Kai’s right hand and lover, his assistant, and it was widely assumed that I was abused and too love struck by our “Divine Ruler” to realise. As much as they admired him, they feared him. In reality, I was in control. Everything Kai had become was because of me.

I knew I had control at the first “pinky ritual”. As soon as our fingers made contact he dived into the first questions, but by that point I’d already won. He was angry, emotional, irrational. I’d got under his skin. It didn’t take long for me to turn the questioning round onto him, and soon he was spilling his guts to me. Everything about his parents, his brother and sister, every fear, hate, love and regret in his life he gave to me. We had sex and with that he’d given me all of his power.

Despite the impression that the rest of the cult held, Kai was ready to lick the shit off of my shoe if I asked. Of course, that didn’t mean I had absolute control. His ideas were his own, I just gave him a push in the right direction. After the killing of Bob Thompson and his gimp, I had pulled Kai’s mask off and kissed him, hard, to show my appreciation. He pulled our bodies closer together and when he brushed his finger across my lip I could taste the blood on it. From that point on, there was no better sight for me than a bloodied Kai Anderson.

•

“I don’t share Kai,” I stated, coldly, as he walked down into the basement. I had been sat on the sofa, waiting for him to return.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Don’t lie to me,” I spat. “You’ve been upstairs fucking Mrs. Lavender,” I pointed out, referring to Meadow.

“There’s a reason,” he defended himself simply. “She needed to think I loved her so she’ll be willing to die for me. It’s exactly what you asked.”

“I don’t think you understand,” I replied slowly, opening my legs to reveal no underwear on beneath my skirt, and I noticed Kai’s next words catch in his throat. “You belong to me. To this.” I gestured my womanhood. He knelt in front of me on the floor, tracing his hands along my thighs, temptation in his eyes.

“No, I don’t,” Kai spat. I snapped my thighs shut and he pulled his hands away sharply. “I am the Divine Ruler,” he announced, standing to lean over me, taking my throat in his hand and squeezing slightly. I looked him back in his dark eyes coolly, daring him to do what he was threatening to do. Kai didn’t have the strength in him to kill me.

“I made you what you are.” I felt his grip tighten. “You’re nothing without me,” I croaked, my voice hoarse as he cut off my breath. His grip tightened more, and for a moment I almost considered he might go through with it. I saw a tear run down his face and then he let go. He dropped his head, tears running down his face, and I opened my arms to him. He dropped down to the sofa, next to me, falling into my embrace. He buried his head into my shoulder and sobbed, while I stroked his hair, shushing him.

“I’m sorry,” he almost whimpered. I pushed him down of the sofa, back on his knees in front of me, opening my legs. He sighed in appreciation, his eyes darkening with lust. As he reached his hand towards my leg I smacked it away.

“No, you have to beg,” I instructed. He looked up to meet my eye. There’s nothing more dangerous than a humiliated man, he had once said, but here he was, willing to get down on his knees in front of me and beg for my attention.

“Please, forgive me, (y/n). Let me touch you,” he pleaded pathetically. I leant forward and took his jaw in my hand, guiding his lips up to meet my own. He desperately leaned into the kiss, sitting up on his knees to pull us closer. His hand ran along my thigh and brushed across my heat, and when I didn’t pull away he rubbed the rough pad of his thumb against my clit before pushing a finger inside of me. I let myself moan against his kiss. He added another finger and curled them inside of me, swallowing my noises up with his lips. I pulled away from the kiss, panting.

“I want you to show me how much you hate me Kai,” I told him, and he removed his fingers from me, confused. I continued, pulling my shirt over my head leaving me in my bra. “Oh, I know you do. The way I make you feel confused, the way I treat you. I let you know how much of a piece of shit you are and you let me tell you that. What kind of man are you? You hate the way I make your prick harder than anyone else could,” I tease, reaching to grab his erect cock through his trousers. I pull my knees back, showing my full pussy out in front of him and that’s all he takes to snap. He stands up and pushes me down on the couch, kneeling himself between my knees before pulling his shirt over his head. It’s hard not to admire his muscular body. It’s no wonder he could get people to believe he was their god, he looked exactly like one. He unzipped his jeans and pulled them down, freeing his cock from his boxers and stroking it while looking at me.

“You’re right,” he told me harshly, grabbing my jaw and resting his thumb in my mouth so I kept it open. “I do fucking hate you.” With that he leant forward towards me and spat directly into my mouth. His harsh words were making me drip with lust. Without any warning he plunged his cock into my warmth, grunting and dropping his hands to my grip onto my waist and the flesh of my stomach. He pounded into me relentlessly, letting out small moans of pleasure. I panted, and when he hit a spot inside of me I let out a breathy moan. I felt a sting across my face, realising that he’d slapped me. He moved a hand to my thigh, pressing it back toward my chest. He growled as he hit my cervix, his hands heavy and his grip tight. Kai grabbed my throat and leant over my body to give the most bruising kiss, and as he pushed my legs back, his cock hit even deeper in me. I even whimpered as he mercilessly pounded into me, harder and harder. His kiss travelled, down my neck, and I felt him take the skin between his teeth, leaving bite marks. I took his head in my hands, fingers tangled in his hair, and I connected our mouths once more, tongues and teeth colliding. He let out another desperate moan. Even when he hated me I still controlled him. The room was filled with the sound of wet kisses and skin slapping. I felt the pleasure build and reached down to rub myself, reaching a shuddering climax and clenching around Kai. He let out a groan and swore, pounding into me faster, his thrusts sloppy. He pulled my bra down and grabbed onto my tits, desperately panting and he brought himself closer to finish. I could do nothing but moan and tremble as his thrusting overstimulated me. His breathy moans brought me to finish a second time, a wave of pleasure hitting me and making me shake again. Kai groaned, pushing himself balls deep inside me and spilling hot cum. He collapsed down on top of me and I let him rest his head on my chest, wrapping my legs around his waist and kissing the top of his head.

“I do think I could love you, Kai,” I murmured against his hair, and I had no reason to say it, but I truly meant it.

#kai anderson #kai anderson x reader #ahs cult #ahs imagine #evan peters #evan peters x reader #ahs x reader #kai anderson smut #ahs smut #american horror story #tate langdon #kit walker #jimmy darling #rory monahan #james patrick march #kyle spencer

939 notes · View notes

papercupids · 3 years

Text

trapped - kim doyoung

pairing - yandere!doyoung x gender neutral!reader

summary - you should have known better..

genre - yandere!au

warnings - yandere themes, a lot of manipulation, doyoung is a sly mf, mentions of an abusive household, running away from home, mentions of stitches, mentions of blood, they bury a dead body, doyoung kills someone.

word count - 2.6k

prompts used - ‘everyone’s gone now! no one can get in our way now. why deny our love?’ + ‘hopeless? you think i’m hopeless? sweetheart. pigeon. dove. don’t you see that you’re the one caged here’ from this prompt list

a/n - i was in midst of completing this fic, couldn’t figure out the end when i came across this prompt list and honestly i couldn’t have completed it without it. shoutout to @go-shotaro for proofreading it <3

Doyoung's sobs rang softly in the house as the loud noises from the television covered it well. You attempted to catch your breath, courtesy of running too fast after he texted you, “emergency”.

Now normally people would counter question each other, “what emergency?” And “what should i do?” But it was something you had established with him after you came to know about how both of your households had been abusive. And it was never to be taken lightly, april fools or not. No one from the two of you was allowed to text it except if it was really bad.

So hence why you ran with all the speed you could muster after sneaking out from your window. Chances of you getting caught were not absolutely zero but you thought about how your best friend could be in danger.

At present, his door was already unlocked, but you don’t pay much attention to it, the sobs absolutely making you fear for the worst.

and some smell. some metallic smell. Before you could recognise it as something you’ve smelled when you got cut while you were chopping off onions, you’re greeted with a pool of blood in the kitchen.

Pool of blood with a body.

A body. His father’s body, precisely.

There's a hollow pit in your stomach which digs deeper as you take the seriousness of the situation in, sirens going off in your brain. But you move your eyes all over the kitchen to find the source of the cries, your best friend.

he’s crying softly as if he hasn’t fathomed what he’s done, numb even.

He’s shocked to see you even when it was him that texted you and immediately begins sobbing a little louder when you bend down to his level.

“What happened?” You ask in a hush as if his father is going to wake up if you make a sound.

Instead of replying he clings onto your frame in a hug, his crying getting uncontrollable by the minute.

“He....he..he was going to kill me, y/n.”

it doesn't take you much to be convinced of that, you’ve had past experiences when you bandaged up doyoung's wounds.

Even accompanied him to the hospital for a few stitches on his forehead.

It absolutely pains you that your best friend has to go through this. All this torture at an age where he should be partying out or just overall be carefree, he was burdened with the load of the house. His father off to gamble and his mother, well, she was dead so you can’t really blame her.

And a bulb goes off in your brain

So you get up and offer him a hand as well.

“Doyoung, get up, stop crying, quick, we’re getting out of here.”

“What?” He sniffles.

“You heard me. I’m not letting you go to jail.”

His tears stop finally as you scour his cabinets for gloves and a cloth to wipe the blood off the floor, and he brings a bucket of water as you attempt to wipe off the blood off the floor.

around half an hour later, the blood's no longer visible on the floor and doyoung's dad's body rests in a sitting position in front of the living room.

he sobs occasionally as you both work in silence to eliminate anything that connects doyoung to this.

you would have thought twice if it was someone else. but Doyoung's dad was one of those drug addicts, who if they found some good stuff, would sell their own spouses.

he's been torturing doyoung since you knew him, which was about five years ago.

The only people that would look for his dad were the ones he used to smoke with. that is, if they remember him at all.

and as for you, it had been a recurring thought to run away from your home. with all the beatings getting out of hand and your parents just over all blaming you for every problem.

maybe this was a sign that you just should.

maybe you and doyoung be a little happy, make a life for yourselves and not end up like everyone else in the town.

maybe you had a chance at this.

you help doyoung fit the body inside a suitcase. it takes about 20 minutes but it does, finally, close.

and you let out a visibly loud sigh, cutting off the silence that had taken over you both.

"Can you tell me what happened now?"

"he found out i was stealing from him, planning to run away,”

"Oh,”

he wraps his arms around you, resting his face on your shoulder, and you let yourself loose as well. Head on his shoulder as well.

Without any words, just standing there with the warmth radiating between you two saying something words just could never.

You get out of the house and doyoung is behind you, locking the door softly, the walls were thin here and someone could rush out to complain or just to pick a fight for the fun of it if they were drunk.

You stroll the suitcase as if you’re going on vacation to Hawaii, making sure to look at every direction. Left, right, behind, straight.....

He follows close behind you carrying a hoe he found outside in the garden shed, it was rusted; but it would work. And he leads you to his car.

His dad’s, actually.

No one would actually suspect doyoung and you unless they witnessed this happening. Because there were a lot of times Doyoung’s father would just disappear for days, leaving him to sneak into your room and sleep in hiding.

So it wasn’t quite suspicious.

You reach the boot of the car, your slippers creating a slapping sound on the road; it was a little wet from the showers in the afternoon and muddy.

The silence around is deafening and you turn around for the umpteenth time, scouring every window around to confirm there’s no one watching you.

Doyoung taps the car lightly to get your attention, preferring to maintain the quiet. And you don’t take twice to nod to him and get into the passenger seat.

As the engine revs up, the seriousness of the whole situation settles in your body. Should you just have turnt doyoung in? No, never, that was your best friend. He was the one who did feel like home; you could do this.

And maybe if you do get caught, you’ll be doing something you won’t be regretting. You’d be doing it for your best friend.

Doyoung’s eyes meet yours through the rear view mirror and he breaks the silence with a cough and a soft whisper,

“Are you sure about this?”

You nod. Words refuse to come to you.

“You won’t be able to turn back after this,”

“I’m sure, doyoung,”

He smiles painfully; like a friend forced to put their friend in danger due to circumstances. But you knew doyoung would do the same for you if it were you in his position.

After driving to the outskirts of the city, doyoung takes a turn around a cluster of trees, the beginning of a forest.

And you turn on your alert mode again, constantly turning back to ensure there was no one lurking around in his uninhabitable area; every slight noise of a vehicle passing by made you jump.

Doyoung was surprisingly calm, this time around he carried the suitcase. And you look at his hands which were blood stained just about an hour ago.

The darkness makes it hard to see but you follow him through bushes and stones, careful with each step of yours.

Trying not to make a sound plus trying to slip.

You swear you can almost hear your own heart pound inside your chest as you walk.

Doyoung stops nearly 15 minutes later; deep inside the forest, there’s a clearing of trees here and he stops you by grabbing your arm.

“I think this will be okay?” His tone is more of a questioning one, but you nod, it was deep inside the forest and no one would ever actually think about digging this up, would they?

Doyoung puts the suitcase aside gently and stretches out a hand in front of you, motioning for you to lend him the tool.

And you give it to him, but feel a sense of insecurity later, it felt like something you could hit someone with in case they found you, but you found yourself defenseless now.

He dug his first jab slowly. But upon realising that slow won’t do much, he did the second one with more impact.

And he hits it till the ground finally breaks, while you keep a lookout towards every direction;

Gradually, doyoung is exhausted and his hands pain from the torture of digging, so you volunteer to dig the rest of it.

Sweat trickles down the back of your neck to your t-shirt, but at least you’re done digging.

Doyoung stands up from his spot where he sat on a protruding tree root to examine if it's deep enough, and you both look at each other for the other’s approval.

And in a swishing motion, doyoung is dragging the bag to the suitcase to the edge of the hole. And his reluctantly trace the suitcase, you have to bury the body alone if you want it to decompose fast;

So you help him out by getting the body out of the suitcase.

It's deteriorating fast, and the smell makes you breathe through your nose, but you position him the way you want him to be buried and nod to doyoung.

an hour later, you’re at a diner sitting quietly and fiddling with your fingers.

trying to figure out what to order.

doyoung stares at you worried; mostly because when the waitress came to place menus at your tables, you let out a loud gasp.

“..and some sprite, yeah that’s it,”

the waitress smiles at you as she completes jotting down your order and disappears right down the hall.

“Hey, are you okay?” Doyoung’s features are concerned and you nod at him and throw him a small grin.

And he smiles warmly back at you.

he takes your hands in his and looks at you, “i’m not sure what i’d do without you,”

The sun’s up, and your mother’s surely banging at your door to wake up; but it doesn’t even matter much, because you’re free and that’s all that matters.

An hour later, you're back at the road, when you're hit with the realization that you still don't know where you're going.

"where should we go?"

to which doyoung replies, without taking his eyes off the road - "i have it all planned, don't worry,"

"how do you have it all planned?" you raise your brow, hoping he'd clarify what he meant.

"I mean. i just planned it all out, you don't need to worry,"

and he scoffs, "you're acting as if this was a plan."

"of course not," you cross your arms. and begin to ponder if anyone would be onto you both;

it would be counted as a coincidence at most because you were never seen together, mostly because of the orthodoxy of both of your families.

nevertheless, your family would try for a month at most, and give up later, not thinking of you to be worth it.

it's what they had done when you attempted to run away a few months ago, escaping to Doyoung's house.

and it had hit you there, that there was no one apart from doyoung who cared for you.

a few hours later, you had dozed off against your better judgement, while doyoung kept driving to said place cautiously.

and he pulled up inside a cozy parking lot, causing you to jerk awake and yawn loudly;

"where....are we?" taking in the informality of the place, you were sure this wasn't a hotel, it was something way too familiar. but what bugged you more was how despite being like an apartment complex, the parking was mostly empty.

doyoung threw you a smile in reply and extended his hand towards you, motioning you to take it, "come with me."

you reluctantly fit your hand inside his, after all he was your friend, he couldn't do you any harm, right?

and he leads you into a bit deeper inside the parking lot, the sound of your breath being prominent in this silence.

at last an elevator comes into view, it's small and cozy; maybe we're going to an airbnb? you glance around the lift warily as doyoung waits eagerly.

as a small bell rings and the elevator doors open, he takes your hand in his once again and looks back at you, "you're gonna love it,"

and you take in the floor number, "9", and follow him through around two doors, both of them absolutely new and maybe even unoccupied.

he finally reaches the end of the hallway where there is a similar door like the ones you passed through, the only difference being that doyoung fished out a key for this one.

and you don't remember stopping for anything after the diner..

Was this planned?

he was creeping you out more and more every passing minute.

and he opens it to reveal a fully furnished, small, and a cute apartment.

but well that would have been your first thoughts if you had been here under different circumstances.

"Do you like it?" doyoung asked, as if he was a little kid asking for an opinion on his drawing.

he shuts the door behind you as he takes your off guard-ness to pull you inside.

"doyoung, what is this?"

"what, you don't like it?" he pouts a little.

"Since when have you been planning this?" you ask, expecting an answer that you know is gonna make you completely repulse Doyoung.

"Remember I told you how my dad found out I was stealing money from him?" you can't move your eyes from the sofa in front of you, and doyoung moves around you like a merry go round

"why don't you look at the bright side, y/n?" he hovers behind you, his breath fanning your neck.

"and that is?" you ask in a small voice. you had no idea who this man was. because he clearly wasn't the one you had vowed to protect a few years earlier.

"we can finally be together," he whispers in your ear.

"Are you kidding me, doyoung? this can't happen."

and he snaps from his calm demeanour, "everyone's gone now! no one can get in our way now. Why deny our love?"

"doyoung, you're my best friend, i don't love you romantically, please stop with this it's creeping me out."

"that's not a thing to worry about, I'll make you love me."

"it's hopeless doyoung,"

his hands travel from your shoulders to your wrist.

"hopeless?" he scoffs, "you think i'm hopeless? sweetheart. pigeon. dove. don't you see that you're the one caged here."

and as he pulls away, he leaves you free.

but you can't move a limb because a part of you knows doyoung has a trick up his sleeve.

"this memory card," he flicks it in front of you, "belongs to the camera that was installed in my living room, moments before you came. and hence, i have proof that you were an accomplice."

you walked right into that. no one in their right mind would help cover a murder. they do say that they would, but no one would. and you, being the hopelessly foolish, helped him out.

"do you get it now, dove?"

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angelfishofthelord · 3 years

Text

"I know what you did"

Whumptober Day 4: pushed. (also on a03)

From a dark au idea I've had for awhile where Cas goes off to be a vigilante post 15x03. And after seeing @dadstiel liveblogging about the end of s14 I wanted to write a scene about what happened in 14x19.

There’s been half a dozen similar stories in the past few months: a child trafficking ring in a state up north was busted and all the men holding the children were discovered either dead or comatose; an abusive father of two young girls was dropped off at the steps of a police station, reduced to a drooling crippled mess; an anonymous call about a factory with underage workers, and when the authorities arrived they found the teenagers huddled in the corner and the burnt, sightless body of the boss under the desk.

“He saved us,” the teenagers were quoted as saying in the article. Similar words used in the most recent news where a local gang that was using eighth graders to sell their drugs was uncovered in the same mysterious pattern. “It was this man...he just came in like the wind,” said Timothy Grant, one of the 14 year olds who was a runaway that had been promised protection by the gang but was then forbidden to contact his parents. “Everyone who ever hurt us was….gone. And he said we could go home now.”

Sam closes the laptop with a sigh. The descriptions in the reports vary, but there are always a few that are consistent: a man with inhuman speed, and the glowing light that either destroys the evildoer or heals the injured. It could be a rogue angel, or one of Chuck’s little comebacks like Lilith.

He ignores the other option, the faint suspicion niggling in the back of his mind.

No. It can't be.

Whoever it is, he’s finally close to finding them. They’ve been smart; security footage has shown that they change cars frequently. The most recent one was a blue pickup truck left under an overpass in the next town. Sam has been staying in the area, checking headlines and talking with local police to see if they’ve seen anyone with a penchant for dispensing judgement on those who hurt the innocents. Like some kind of vigilante, Sam thinks as he pulls up a few feet away from the dark outline of the barn. He got a call from the lady at the diner across from the motel he’s been staying at, saying her friend saw something outside the abandoned Miller farm. It’s probably nothing, but he's here to check, just to be sure.

The first floor of the barn is empty but Sam knows that someone’s definitely here. There’s a flicker of light in the loft above and the muffled sound of grunting. Sam puts the flashlight in his mouth and ascends the ladder carefully. He keeps one hand free and on the hilt of the angel blade in his jacket. As he gets closer to the top he sees a pair of black shoes and the bare, bloodied feet of another man tied to a chair. The man with shoes has his back to him; he looms over the seated man, one hand pinning his shoulder against the spine of the chair.

Sam reaches the last rung of the ladder in time to clearly see the standing man shove his hand into the other’s chest. Light swirls around the invasion, blazing and white-hot, before he withdraws his hand. The man in the chair slumps back, eyes blank and jaw slack.

He knows who it is even before he turns around. He always knew, in a way. “Cas?”

Cas glances back at him with a twinge of surprise in his eyes before he turns back around. “Sam.”

Sam steps closer to the man in the chair. His fingers are still close to the angel blade in his jacket. “Is-Is he dead?”

“No.” Cas keeps his back to him, folding up a map on the wooden table at his side. He sounds strange. Frigid. “That would be a mercy he doesn’t deserve.”

“W-What are you doing?”

“Recharging.”

“No, I mean--that’s not--” Sam rubs a hand over his face. “You’ve been doing all of this? All those people--you killed--why, Cas, why are you doing this?” He knew Cas must be devastated after Jack’s death, after Chuck’s betrayal, and some kind of subsequent fallout with Dean, but the reality of what he's been doing still feels like being hit by a tank.

“I’m saving people. Children,” he adds.

So it is about Jack. “Cas,” Sam moves closer, trying to sound placating. He puts a hand on Cas’ shoulder. “I know losing Jack wasn’t easy. I miss him too but this isn't--”

Cas whirls around, eyes burning blue, and Sam finds himself being hurled across the room, crashing into the wooden boards of the wall before landing hard on the ground. He gasps, trying to find his breath, and looks up to see Cas hovering above him, palm outstretched, face wreathed in fury. There’s a slight pressure on Sam’s shoulders; he’s not being pinned to the wall, but it’s enough to tells him that he absolutely will be if he tries to move.

“C-Cas?” Sam breathes. Maybe he's possessed, maybe Chuck is controlling him. He has to get through to him before it's too late. "It's just me."

“Don’t talk about Jack that way,” Cas says, voice low and lethal. “I know what you did. He told me everything.”

“What are you talking about?”

The shadows darken around Cas’ face. “You prayed to him. He was locked in that box because he answered your prayer.”

Oh. This isn't someone else manipulating Cas, this is really him. Sam feels the tug of shame sloshing in his gut but he brushes it aside and instead makes a faint attempt to rise, only to feel the firm nudge of being pushed back. “Look, I know it wasn’t the best thing to do, Cas, but there was no other way, Jack was dangerous, and he--”

“Did you even try to find another way?” Cas snaps. “You fought fiercely to keep Dean from his fate in that box. Yet you were ready to condemn Jack to an eternity of that same fate without a second thought.”

Sam swallows hard. He tries to remember all the mental gymnastics he did to convince himself why Jack had to go in there, but Cas is still talking. “Do you know why other angels don’t usually answer prayers? Because it makes us vulnerable. It’s not considered a wise strategic move because it calls an angel, by name, to a specific place. There’s no time to scope out the destination for danger or to evaluate the potential risks.” He moves in closer, towering above him. “Or if it’s going to be an ambush.”

“I’m sorry, Cas.” He really is. “We didn’t handle it right, and I wish to Go-” he catches himself. “I wish Jack was still here so he could know how sorry I am. But Cas…what you’re doing isn’t right either. You must know that.”

The eerie glow of Cas’ eyes pierce through the night. “You know, when the Bunker’s alarms went off, it wasn’t just because Jack was trying to break out of the box. I could hear him. He was screaming. The same way he was screaming when….” the light in his eyes suddenly dims and Cas’ hand drops back to his side.

The pressure on Sam yields abruptly and he immediately leans forward, gulping for air. He knows what Cas didn’t say; the sight of Jack collapsing in that graveyard, crying out as searing light ruptured from him, still frequents Sam’s own nightmares. “I’m sorry,” he repeats, useless as the words are. “It wasn’t--”

“I loved him.” Cas isn’t looking at him now; he’s focused on some distant point above his head, blinking hard. “You have no idea how much Jack meant to me, how much I--” his voice catches and he turns away. In between the shafts of light Sam can see his jaw working, the bob of his throat and clench of his fist as Cas struggles to compose himself. A cold, sickly way of guilt washes over Sam and he feels almost nauseous. Every excuse and reasoning dries up on his tongue.

After a minute Cas glances back at him, his expression once more glacial. “You and Dean have each other. Don’t come looking for me again.”

#my spn fic #whumptober 2021 #userjeb #slipper007 #plantdadcas #seraphcastiel #rambleoncas #thisisapaige #dadstiel #angst fic #spn s15 #castiel #sam winchester

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alwaysachorusgirl · 3 years

Text

Of Wolves and Witches

Pairing: Werewolf!Bishop Losa x Witch!Reader

Word Count: 3088

For: covers the monster square for @adarafaelbarba 's moodboard fall bingo

TW: violence and accidental death via a nightmare/flashback sequence, brief mentions of mental, emotion, and physical abuse, PTSD, and covering up a crime scene

Author's Notes: The Mayans Werewolf AU that no one asked for, but i wrote it anyway. It starts out dark, but ends with fluff, I promise. This is my first time writing for Bishop, so please go easy on me... a big thank you to @itsjustmyfantasyroom for letting me run this idea by her and reassuring me that it wasn't crazy, and for encouraging me to write it.

Tags: @madamsnape921; @prurientpuddlejumper; @thatesqcrush; @welcometothemxdhouse; @raulesparza4eva; @teamsladsandgents; @rosequcrtz

He stormed into your living room, rage storming in his eyes. His aura was a swirling void of red and black. He shouldn’t have been able to break the locks on your front door, he shouldn’t have been able to walk right through your magical wards, but here he was. You straightened your posture and stood your ground, determined to not let him see how terrified you were.

“How did you get in here?”

“Really?” He pulled a glowing amulet from out of his shirt. “Not that hard when you have a little help. Benefits of having hunters for friends.”

Your eyes went wide as you realized what you were looking at. It was an enchanted amulet, one strong enough to get through your warding. You could only hope that it wasn’t strong enough to dampen your powers.

“Yeah, that’s right,” he smirked. “I know what you are. Makes me a wonder what else you haven’t been telling me.”

“Alex, get out! I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.”

“You little bitch!” he spat back. “You think you can just break up me? You think you can just walk away?

“I can and I did. We’re done, Alex, it’s over. You don’t get to hurt me anymore. It’s not my fault that your fragile, insecure male ego can’t take a fucking hint.”

“Bitch, I’ll fucking hurt you whenever I fucking want to! And I don’t see your little biker friends here to protect you.…”

Then he charged, and suddenly you were on the ground with his hands around your throat.

“Thou shalt not suffer a witch to live!”

You could feel the murderous intent radiating off him, and put your hands on his chest, trying to push him off you, but then you felt the release of kinetic energy through your palms, and Alex was flying across the room. He hit the wall, and you prayed to whatever goddess was listening that the sickening crack you heard was just the drywall breaking behind him. But then his eyes rolled back in his head, and his head lolled to one side, at what could only be described as an “unhealthy looking” angle. His lower body twitched a few times before going limp. He hung there for a moment, suspended in the air, pinned to the wall by your invisible force. Still shaking in terror, you finally lowered your hands, and Alex’s lifeless body fell to the ground with a thud.

*********************

“No!” you cried out, sitting bolt upright on your couch. You were covered in a cold sweat and your whole body was shaking. Your lungs gasped for air and your eyes darted around the room, searching for Alex, but he wasn’t there. You weren’t even in your old house anymore. You held your hand in your hands and took deep breaths. You were in your apartment, in Santo Padre, Alex was dead, and you were safe. The Saturday afternoon sun streamed in through the window, and the TV was still on, a marathon of Guy’s Grocery Games playing at a low volume.

“I must have fallen asleep,” you said softly to yourself, “it was only a nightmare.”

You grabbed your phone off the coffee table and checked the time. It was only 3:30, plenty of time to shower and freshen up before Bishop would pick you up at 6. You stood, and after checking your locks and wards, made your way to the bathroom.

***********************

Despite your best efforts to push them down, the memories of what happened next came flooding back as you stood under the warm shower spray. You had been in shock, understandably so, but you were now exposed as a witch, and had to protect yourself. The logical side of your brain kicked in and you got to work. After verifying that Alex was dead, you had used your telekinetic abilities to rip the amulet off his neck. A quick examination verified that it had only been enchanted enough to allow Alex to breach your magical wards without getting zapped, but not enough to block your own powers. The enchantment was also crude and amateurish, probably done in haste by someone with limited knowledge of witchcraft. He had mentioned having hunters for friends, and you cursed yourself for not sensing that sooner. He hadn’t been one himself. You would have read that in his aura the moment you met him, but you also hadn’t sensed his dark side. The mentally and emotionally abusive and manipulative side, the one that turned violent during an argument when you had tried to call him out on his bullshit and break up with him the first time. You had ended up in the hospital, and when you confronted him the second time, you had friends with you to back you up. And after destroying the amulet, those were the friends you called on for help with your predicament.

The Blood Moon Motorcycle Club was a found family werewolf pack, led by Jack Reynard, a fearsome and intimidating Alpha. But Jack was fiercely protective of his friends and allies and didn’t hesitate to show up with four of his most trusted lieutenants when you called and tearfully explained your situation. They got to work cleaning up the scene and going through Alex’s phone and wallet. They found a business card for an elite and dangerous organization of hunters, and the contact’s name and number on the card matched up with one of the contacts in Alex’s phone. Jack told you to start packing your bags and to make sure that you included any magical artifacts that you had. You would spend the night at their clubhouse under round-the-clock security, and in the morning, they would get you out of town. Anything that couldn’t be packed that night would be shipped to you once you were settled elsewhere. They would dispose of the body; it wasn’t the first time they’d had to do so.

Jack had called Bishop Losa, president of the Mayans Motorcycle Club in Santo Padre, California. Jack and Bishop had served together in the Marines in their younger days, and the Mayans and the Blood Moons were allies as a result of that friendship. The Mayans were another found family werewolf pack and protected Santo Padre alongside the Galindo Pack. The town was a safe haven for all supernatural beings and the humans who lived there were none the wiser.

And now you had been here for six months. You worked in a bookshop owned by another a witch, Matilda, and lived in the apartment above it. In addition to the books, you also sold your homemade herbal teas and did Tarot card readings in the shop. 2-3 times a week you would bake cookies and muffins and sell those in the shop. Your teas were so popular that you now did tea making demonstrations on Saturday mornings. You were thriving but were still plagued by nightmares and PTSD and attended therapy once a week to help you work through your struggles.

And then there was Bishop. At first, the Mayan president and Alpha had been your friend and protector. You had been too traumatized to even think about pursuing a relationship, and so you both denied the unquestionable and inexplicable attraction. The more you got to know each other, the more you were drawn to each other. Two months ago, he finally made a move while the two of you had been outside getting some air at a party at the Mayans clubhouse, asking if he could kiss you. You’d been a couple ever since.

*********************

You had just finished lacing up your boots when you heard the sound of a familiar motorcycle pull up to your building. You ran to the window and looked down to the street. You saw Bishop getting off his bike and removing his helmet. You exited your apartment and ran down the stairs, meeting him at the entrance at the side of the building. You threw your arms around his neck and kissed his lips. His arms encircled your waist and pulled you close.

“Hola Querida, you look beautiful.”

“Thanks, you’re not too bad, yourself, handsome.”

That got a chuckle from the Alpha. He removed one of his arms from around your back, revealing the bouquet of roses in his hand. “These are for you.”

“Bish, they’re gorgeous, thank you. You shouldn’t have.”

“And pass up the opportunity to surprise you? Not a chance.”

“Come on up. I’ll put these in water, grab a few things, then I’ll be ready to go.”

Bishop nodded and held onto your hand as he followed you up the stairs.

************************

You held onto Bishop as the two of you went speeding down the back roads, away from Santo Padre. You loved dates like this: just you and Bishop on the bike, heading somewhere unknown, away from all the stress and bullshit of the day-to-day. His torso felt warm, sturdy, and safe. You could feel the vibrations from bike rattling through your body as you watched the scenery fly by. You’d been on the road for at least half an hour now.

“Almost there, Querida,” Bishop called back. “You’re gonna love this spot, I promise.”

After a few more minutes he pulled off the road and the motorcycle slowed to a stop. Bishop turned off the engine and stored the keys in his pocket. You both got off and removed your helmets. You looked around at the small, wooded area and smiled, breathing in the fresh air.

“This is nice, babe.”

“Oh, this isn’t the spot, “he told you, unlatching the soft fleece blanket and cooler from the back of his bike. He handed you the blanket. He took the cooler in one hand and grabbed your free hand with his other, interlacing his fingers with yours. “It’s this way.”

You walked for a few minutes down a short path before finally arriving at a grassy clearing. The view was breathtaking. You could see everything from your elevated perched; Santo Padre, the valley, green leafy trees swaying in the breeze, fields of wildflowers. A sense of calm settled over you that you hadn’t felt in months. You didn’t jump when Bishop came up behind you and slid his arms around your mid-section, instead relaxing into his touch and leaning against his sturdy frame. Bishop softly kissed your shoulder.

“You okay, baby?”

“Yeah,” you sighed, “this is perfect, this place in perfect. The energy here is so peaceful, and so alive. I love it.”

“I’m glad. I was thinking we could eat dinner, watch the sunset? And wait until the stars come out…You can show me all the constellations?”

You turned and slid your arms around his neck, resting your forehead against his.

“You would have thought that you were such a romantic?”

“Just don’t tell anyone, okay? Gotta maintain my tough guy image, you know?”

“Mmm…your secret is safe with me.” You pecked his lips once, twice, three times, each kiss lasting a bit longer than the rest. When you finally pulled your head away you noticed that the blanket was laid out on the ground with cooler sitting on top.

“Come on,” said Bishop, directing you over to it. You both sat down, and Bishop opened the cooler and started setting out its contents: sandwiches from the local deli, fresh strawberries from the farmer’s market, giant cupcakes from the gourmet bakery, a bottle of beer for each of you, and bottled water. He popped the caps off the beer bottles and handed you one. “Cheers.”

The two of you sat and ate, completely at ease with each other, and the conversation flowed easily. Bishop told you about the day’s antics down at the scrapyard, and you told him about the business plan you and Matilda were working on to expand the bookshop into the empty café next door.

“The theory is, that having a space to sell food and drinks will drum up more business. I can sell my tea and baked goods and do my demonstrations there. We would obviously need to hire some extra people to help, but I think we can make it work. We can’t tear down the wall between the buildings and expand without the proper permits.”

“I’m sure the town will approve whatever permits you need. They’re not going to say to ‘no’ to something that will bring more business into Santo Padre.”

“Wow, you weren’t kidding about the sunsets,” you said, gazing at the red, orange, and purple hues of the evening sky. “How did you find this place?”

Bishop laid down on the blanket and you stretched out next him, placing your head on his chest.

“Me and the guys had just come back from a run,” he began, “Things didn’t go so well, and I was pissed, needed to blow off some steam so I just rode around for a while. Next thing I knew, I was here. I shifted, ran around for a while until my head was clear. I come back whenever I need to get away from everything.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze. “Thank you for bringing me here. I needed this.”

Bishop caressed your cheek with his fingers. “You’re welcome, Querida. I’ll bring you up here whenever you want.”

“Bish, can I ask you a personal question?”

��Of course, Querida, you can ask me anything,” he replied with a chuckle.

“Can I see you in your wolf form sometime? There’s no pressure, only if you want to…”

Bishop mulled the question over in his head. You had caught him off guard with the query. None of the women he’d ever been with had asked to see his wolf form, not even his ex-wife. These days, he only shifted when it was absolutely necessary. There were advantages to being an older and more experienced wolf. He could shift at will and didn’t have to worry about losing control. But what if you didn’t like what you saw? What if he scared you away? He’d never forgive himself if that happened. Your soft, sweet voice interrupted his thoughts.

“Bish, I’m sorry, forget I said anything- “

“No, it’s okay,” he kissed your forehead, “I just wasn’t expecting that question. I’ll do it if you want me to, but just be prepared, okay? I promise I won’t hurt you, but it might not be what you’re expecting.”

“I trust you completely, and I promise, I won’t be scared.” You looked at his aura and saw the hesitancy there. He was scared. “You’re not going to lose me.”

He cupped your face with his hand and his lips found purchase with yours. He had a way of kissing you that made your mind go blank and get lost in the moment, and you loved every minute of it. You kissed him back with equal fervor, hoping that somehow you were able to convey the trust and faith you had in him. The smile on his face when you broke away seemed to indicate that you’d been successful.

Bishop rose and walked a few feet away.

“What are you doing?” you asked, confused by his actions.

“Shifting is a lot easier without clothes on,” he replied with a wink, beginning to undress.

“I’ll close my eyes and give you some privacy then,” you giggled, shutting your eyes, but occasionally cracking one open to steal glimpses of his increasingly naked form; and damn if you didn’t like what you saw!

Bishop finished disrobing and crouched down on the soft grass. He breathed deeply and cleared his mind, focusing his intention. He felt his muscle start to ripple and his joints and bones shift. It didn’t hurt at his age; it was just slightly uncomfortable. All his senses sharpened. Body hair became fur, his hands and feet morphed into oversize paws with razor sharp claws. Even his teeth changed shaped, becoming longer and more pointed. A few moments later, he stretched and shook out his fur. He looked over towards you, still sitting there with your eyes closed, and cautiously padded toward you.

************************

You could hear the footfalls of his paws, and then felt his large wet nose nudging your arm. You opened your eyes and saw a massive wolf standing before you. His fur was brown and black, with specks of gray in various places. His legs were strong, and his paws appeared large enough to take out a person with one blow. But his eyes, his eyes were gentle, and you would know them anywhere.

“Oh, Bishop, you’re beautiful!”

He sat and cocked his head to one side, appearing confused.

“Yes, you heard me correctly. May I?” You held out your arms to him. Bishop bowed his head and leaned forward, allowing you to embrace him and bury your face in his fur. “Your fur is so soft!”

He put his head on your shoulder and let out a contented groan when your fingers began to massage the spot right between his ears. You giggled at that. “I take it you like that, huh?” Bishop lifted his head and licked your face in response, making you laugh even harder. You massaged his head for a little while longer before resting your forehead against his. “Thank you for letting me see you like this. I love you, Bishop.”

There was suddenly a very naked, human man in your arms. Bishop’s hands cupped your face, his eyes scanning it for any indication that he might have misheard you.

“Bish- “

“Say that again, Querida.”

“I said, I love you, Obispo Losa.”

Bishop pulled you into his lap and pressed his lips to yours, kissing you with more intensity and tenderness than he ever had before. Any doubts that you may have had about him not feeling the same quickly melted away. It went on for what felt like forever before the two of you had to pull away and come up for air.

“I love you, too, mi reina.”

You held onto one another like that for while before Bishop got dressed and rejoined you on the blanket. You spent the rest of the evening wrapped in each other’s arms and gazing at the night sky. And when a shooting star passed overhead, you made a wish that you could stay this way forever. No more looking over your shoulder, no more nightmares; just you and Bishop, ready to take on whatever the future might hold.

#adarafaelbarbaseptmeberbingo #bishop losa x reader #bishop losa #mayans #mayans mc #mayans fandom #mayans fanfic #bishop losa imagines #werewolf au #my writing

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dreamsclock · 3 years

Note

Sparrow you have made me very much heart hurt with the manhunt and dsmp dreams meeting. How you managed to make it comprehensible with very little change in the names or use of long titles to specify which dream you're talking about is nothing less then magic. I will be thinking about this for so long (how will the manhunt crew react to prison dream? Will they be able to tell them apart? Will the recognize mh!dreams plan to show smp!dreams human side? Will any version of dream not hurt me emotionally and/or have any feeling of self preservation? Probably not for the last one but oh well) I love all you're writing! Hope you have a good day!! 🤍

thank you so much !!! i really enjoyed writing it - it was super fun and it’s always a challenge to write two characters with the same names! this piece was such a surprise to write: you know those fics that you don’t really know how they’re going to end until they do? that’s what this was for me, which was super fun. i hope you enjoy this, and the implications of what’s to come for dream :D

warnings: torture, abuse, blood, manipulation, cruelty, violence, burning, trauma, emotional distress, mental deterioration

Sapnap hates Dream.

That’s a lie, he doesn’t - not his Dream, anyway - but he’s more than a little angry at him right now. Locking himself in prison isn’t surprising, considering how stubborn his best friend is, but of course he had to lock himself in with an identical, far more dangerous version of himself. And he knows Dream, knows how smart he can be, but also knows how kind he is - as Sam had said, rather frustrated, the other Dream had no doubt manipulated him into staying.

Fuck. He’s going to kill Dream.

One of them, anyway, because there are two identical ones in the cell and he’s struggling to tell which is which. One masked, sitting surly, dangerous in a corner. The other has his face exposed, and hunches away from Sapnap when the barrier is lowered. His expression, though visible, is just as closed off as if he’d been wearing a mask, and does absolutely nothing to help. There’s a long jagged scar racing over his jaw and cheek, vicious and sharp, and his arm is blackened, burned from lava.

So Sapnap spins to the Dream, eyes narrowing, because he knows his best friend better than he knows himself, knows he can’t trick him that easily.

“Dream,” he says, lowly, coming to crouch beside him, “good try.”

His Dream doesn’t speak.

“You can’t kid me.” Sapnap laughs, hollow. “Though it was a good attempt.”

“...What gave it away?” Dream’s voice is rough, tired - God, Sapnap wants to drag him out of this cell, wants to get him home and safe because nobody deserves to be here other than the monster across from them, who eyes them in cold contemplation. “‘M wearing his mask.”

“I can just tell.” Sapnap doesn’t waste time: he hoists him to his feet, shooting the other Dream a contemptuous look. “Trust me, man. I’m your best friend. If anybody knows you, it’s me.”

“Sap-”

“I’m taking you outta here whether you like it or not.” He fixes his friend with a firm look. “This place isn’t good for you, Dream. Jeez, I feel all weird being here even for a couple of minutes. Leave him to rot, and we can dip and find a new world and- Fuck, I don’t know, just get away from here. Please.”

Dream is staring at him behind the mask, he can feel it. Both Dreams are: it’s eerie, and Sapnap wants to kick the other Dream, but doesn’t dare try out of fear fo retaliation. The alternate Dream is a viper in docile skin, lying in wait for people to treat him with kindness so he can use them, that’s what he knows: and now he’s seen it happen to Dream, and he’s not going to let it happen again.

Sapnap tugs his arm towards the water, impatient. “Come on.”

Dream follows him loosely, shooting a look back at the other Dream that Sapnap can’t place. “What about him?” He asks, tired. “I can’t- I can’t just leave him there, Sap. He’s going to die in there. He can’t last long by himself. Trust me.”

And Sapnap doesn’t hide the scoff that rises up. “From what others have told me? Good.”

His best friend flinches, and only then does the other Dream open his mouth.

“I’m-”

Sapnap turns a dark, dark look on him, and the other Dream barely reacts, instead turning a serpentine look on him that makes his skin crawl. “Don’t,” he snaps, “just don’t. My Dream, come with me. Now.”

And the other Dream laughs as Sam sends the bridge over for them, because Dream had set his spawn there like an idiot and Sapnap needs to get him out of there somehow, laughs as he watches them leave, laughs until tears come to his eyes and it hurts more to breathe, because this is exactly what he’d known was going to happen. Sapnap had picked the wrong Dream, Sapnap had saved him, and soon? When his other self is docile and casual and well behaved and they realise both Dreams are deserving of being out? Dream will be saved too.

Because he knows he can last longer than his other self, who is already shattering and broken and beaten down. He’s got months in him to fight, weeks and weeks of strength to play the part he has to. The other Dream had told him everything in a tired voice: of Tommy, of the Disk Wars, of the Revive Book and Schlatt and Wilbur and how he acts and how he thinks and how he feels, and Dream, in turn, had spoken to him too. He’d told him about his life and how it differs, had told him how to act and blend in and most importantly how to begin healing.

And he has faith in Dream, he does. He needs to, because otherwise what is this all for?

So Dream laughs, blinking back tears from his eyes and watching the other Dream leave with his Sapnap, watches Dream sink into the arm Sapnap has wrapped round him and smiles as Sapnap guides him away. The lava curtain begins to fall again, but Dream watches until he’s staring at nothing but orange, thick, bright, blinding orange that burns his eyelids to look at, and only then does he turn away, curling up on the chest with tired limbs and an aching heart and telling himself he’s done what’s right. He’s done good.

He’s awoken, in the middle of the night a day later, to Quackity marching over on the bridge, a glint in his eyes and his wings held high, claiming Dream knows exactly what he wants. And he doesn’t, not at first.

And then the interrogation starts, and Dream quickly comes to realise exactly what Quackity wants.

And then he realises he doesn’t have the knowledge Quackity wants.

And then, only then, does he realise how fucked he is.

#> my asks !!#> my writing !!#> swap dream au #tw torture #tw burning #tw trauma #tw cruelty #tw violence #tw manipulation #tw mental deterioration #tw emotional distress

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descendantofthesparrow · 3 years

Text

Regained Passion - Harry Hook x Reader - Part 4 - How long has it been?

(Part 4! after so long im sorry~!!! but we getting to the good stuff now~)

Chad glared across the cafeteria at his sister and Hook, the two had been hanging out more and more as the weeks went on, picking up each other from dance class or regular class, eating meals together, spending time in each other's dorm rooms before curfew, whispering to each other and laughing.

Chad knew his sister was being corrupted by the pirate and his filthy vk friends, he had let this go on for far too long, he had to save his sister before it was too late. “What are you glaring at?” Audrey asked as she sat across from Chad, picking up a fork and starting to stab at her salad.

“That filthy pirates corrupting my sister” Chad grumbled, turning in his seat to face Audrey, who looked a little disturbed. “Oh don’t tell me you don’t see it, look at him!” Chad turned again, pointing at Harry, who was leaning on his hand smiling at you as you talked about some random thing. “He’s corrupting her! He’s up to something I know it, he’s gonna use her to get the wand or something”

Audrey tilted in her seat, raising her brow as Harry laughed, very genuinely might she add, and hiked his leg up onto the bench, your back now resting against his knee. “Oh yes,” Audrey said in a sarcastic tone “I can just see the evil intent radiating off of him, look that that he’s manipulating her right in front of us!” Audrey held down her laughter as Harry gently took your switch from you and started to play whatever game it was, tilting his body to allow you to see the screen as he did.

“I’m glad you see things my way” Audrey slumped in her seat and facepalmed, Chad didn’t see her reaction and continued to glare at Harry. “I have to make (y/n) see reason, that pirate is only going to use her”

“Chad” Audrey started sternly, narrowing her eyes as Chad turned to her with wide eyes “Harry isn’t planning anything, they-the pirates- have been here for several months now. If they were planning something they probably would have already done it. It took Mal and the others only a day to try to get the wand, and it's been almost half a year since their arrival and nothing happened. You need to let go of-” Audrey waved her hand in front of Chad’s face “-whatever this is against the vks, I know it sounds so hypocritical coming from me but you are taking it way too far Chad, you know why the vks ended up going with their plan, we pushed them. I don’t want you to push Harry into doing anything dangerous, or your sister away from you. Both you and I know if you continue this (y/n) won't like it.” Chad stared at Audrey for a few moments, and Audrey hoped that she had gotten through to him.

“hmpf” Chad grumped, slumping in his seat and crossing his arms, leaving the matter alone for now.

“Thank you” Audrey breathed in relief, hopefully, Chad would drop it but knowing him, he would be back on this bullshit the next day. Chad turned to look over his shoulder, gritting his teeth as Harry leaned closer to you, your faces oh so close together as you watched Harry play the game.

You yelped as you were suddenly pulled into an empty classroom as you were heading out for dance class, huffing as you came face to face with Chad “what do you want?” you asked annoyed, pulling out your phone and checking the time, you had about 15 minutes before class started.

“stop hanging around that pirate and his friends, they’re gonna turn you evil or something I can tell” you stared blankly at Chad as he stared back at you, completely serious.

“oh my god you’re serious aren’t you?” you rolled your eyes, rubbing your face in frustration “listen Chad, I don’t know what you got against the vks, but I don’t give one fuck about it, they aren’t their parents, and it's honestly hypocritical when you say stuff like that” Chad looked offended at that “how do you think Mom would react to your very obvious hatred against the vks? you know how she raised us, she never hated her stepmom or sisters and they abused her for years, why should we hate kids who haven’t even done anything to us?! Try this crap again on me and I’m telling mom” Chad gasped and held his hand to his chest, taking a step back.

“You wouldn't.” You glared back, pulling out your phone and hovering your thumb over your mother’s contact.

“I would! Now leave it, I’m not going to stop hanging out with Harry just because you can't get over your personal crap.” You turned on your heel and stormed out of the classroom, almost running as you left campus to get to the studio.

Chad clicked his jaw in anger, he would get the corrupt pirate away from you if it was the last thing he did.

Harry yelped as he was suddenly pulled aside, looking down to see the pastel pink and blue head of Princess Audrey, holding his arm and dragging him down the hallways towards the exit "A-Audrey?” Harry asked, stumbling a bit as she went through the doors and down the steps still holding onto him “what are yeh doin’?”

“Chad’s planning something” she hushed, speed walking towards the studio “he has this grudge against you for some dumb reason and is planning to attempt to pull (y/n) away from you so just be on the lookout for things that might screw with her perception of you, okay? Okay. Have a good lesson Harry” she left Harry standing in front of the studio completely confused, his hands in the air as he stared at her.

“fuckin WHAT?!” Harry yelled, throwing his hands into the air and sighing, princesses’ they never made sense. He stomped into the studio and passed by your class, waving at the girls who surrounded you that smiled at him politely and elbowed you teasingly as you grinned at him.

He walked into his class and changed out his shoes, taking off his hoodie and starting to stretch as his classmates mingled and did the same. Soon Bert entered the room with two armfuls of bamboo sticks “g’mornin class!” the class eagerly greeted him back, including Harry as he had warmed up to the dance teacher in the last few months “today, we continue our practice for the spring performance, with the ol’ bamboos!” he tossed a long stick to each of his students, Harry catching one and twirling it like a staff. “today we start learning the choreo for the bamboo half, and starting tryouts for the lead.”

Harry zoned out at that point, numbly yet energetically going along with what Bert showed them, picking up the steps quite quickly compared to the rest of the class, but he had always been quick to pick physical routines up, such as sword fighting and Uma's old ‘what’s my name’ dance.

Soon the two hours of class were up and everyone was packing their things and heading out, Harry staying behind for a moment to see if you had beaten him to the punch, but after those moments and no (y/n), he finished packing up and made his way across the hall, leaning against the wall waiting for your class to finish. But after 10 minutes and no one coming out, he peeked inside, raising his brow as he only saw you, dancing along to the music.

“hey,” he announced his intrusion, you didn’t falter at his sudden voice and he walked across the room to sit down in front of you. you slowed down with the end of the music, posing as if you were with a partner, and smiled at him breathlessly “didn’t yeh have class today?” you nodded, walking over to your bag and grabbing a towel and water.

“Yeah, they all already left, I’m trying to perfect the piece.” Harry rose his brow, watching you intently as you walked over to him and sat down beside him.

“but the performance isn't fer another” Harry checked his phone calendar “six months, yeh got the time?” you just hummed and shrugged.

“what can I say im a perfectionist” you muttered, sipping at your ice-cold water and leaning against Harry’s side, your phone that was connected to the blue-tooth room speakers moving onto a random song, some sort of ballad but you were paying more attention to Harry’s comforting warmth that was seeping into you.

Harry chuckled “fer a perfectionist, yeh let a lot of things go imperfect” he took your head and nodded at your nails, the light blue sparkles chipping and then he nodded at your bag, a mess of pins and paint.

“perfectionist for dancing dork” you slapped his hand away, already missing the feeling “I just-if I don’t get this right, i…I don’t know” Harry frowned, the mood had suddenly dipped and Harry could feel the bubbling sadness.

“But I've heard yer friends say yer the best dancer in this whole school, hell I think I heard Esméralda say ya already perfected it so why?” you sighed, squishing your check into Harry's hoodie.

“I can't convey the emotions I need into the dance, so it's not perfect. I can do the steps not…not the rest.” You sighed again, closing your eyes “the dance is supposed to be a duet, Esméralda hasn’t found someone to dance with me so I've been doing it alone for a bit but-it’s supposed to convey two falling in love” Harry felt his cheeks flush at that but he couldn't explain why “and…I've never been in love with anybody before…I've just-…never felt that kinda connection.” You groaned, sliding down into Harry's lap as he lifted his arm and cupped your face “and if I don’t convey it, Esméralda is going to replace me and-and I feel like if I do, I’ll be failing them” Harry raised his brow at that.

“them? Them who?” Harry asked gently, if someone was going to be mad at you for this simple thing, he was going to hook them.

“…I don’t know” you muttered, reaching up and clinging to Harry’s arm “me? My parents? Esméralda? I really don’t, I just-…I feel like a failure for not falling in love” Harry frowned “Es- Esméralda also said I have no passion which, I do! I love dancing, it’s been my dream since I was a little kid but…she says there's no spark, no fun in it” you muttered, Harry staring down at you with sad eyes. Then he looked at your phone, still playing the ballad; he had an idea.

“how long ‘as it been since yeh danced fer fun?” Harry asked, gently lifting you up out of his lap and jumping to his feet, jogging over to your phone and quickly pulling up YouTube.

You tilted your head at him as ‘shut up and dance’ started to play, Harry jumping around a bit to get himself hyped before spinning around to face you with a playful grin “what are you doing?” you laughed, wiping away the tears that had started to bubble up, Harry shimmied his shoulders as he walked towards you with his hands out.

“I asked yeh a question!” Harry sniggered, grabbing your hands and pulling you up, dragging you out to the middle of the room and tugging your hands back and forth as he forced you to dance with him “when was the last time yeh danced fer fun?”

You went to answer, only to pause…you didn’t know “well today’s tha’ day then” Harry grinned mischievously, pulling you into a spin as he used your weight to do so, his eyes wide with delight as you started to laugh. The two of you started to dance, no particular way in mind, just…dancing. No choreography or meaning, just dancing; jumping, spinning, swing dancing, quickstep, whatever came to mind that fit best with the tempo.

Esméralda came back into the room, her head down as she looked in her bag. She had forgotten her wallet in the room and hadn’t expected to find her best dancer just, dancing willy nilly, with no care in the world and full of passion. She stared in slight shock; she hadn’t seen you just -dance- in years! A smile grew on her face, and Harry Hook had been the one to bring that- passion- back out in you…she had found your partner for the duet.

She discretely got her wallet and walked out of the room, the two of you not noticing her as you were lost in your own world. You scream laughed as Harry picked you up and started to spin around, your legs curling up to your chest as he did so. Harry slowed down and dropped you back to your feet, taking your hand and pulling you towards him as you spun around once more. You dipped yourself, relying on Harry to keep you off the floor as he pulled you back and the two of you jumped around each other, pulling and pushing on each other's hands as you both laughed; the music echoing loudly around you.

As the song ended, Harry pulled you into him, your arms flying around his neck as he held your waist, hugging you tightly as you laughed into his ear, his face tucked securely between your neck and shoulder. After a few moments of muffled laughter, you pulled back, cupping Harry's face as he grinned down at you, his face flushed from his actions.

“thank you” you whispered, you hadn’t felt like that when dancing in years, just having fun with it instead of trying to make every bit perfect “thank you” Harry kissed the top of your head, pulling you back into a strong hug.

“yer welcome Princess”

Chad bit his thumb as the very next day, you and Harry had somehow gotten ever closer, sitting shoulder to shoulder, sometimes your legs tossed over his lap and staring into each other eyes. He had to get rid of this damn pirate soon.

Harry, the night of the day when he had danced with you, lay awake in bed, staring up at the ceiling with a goofy smile on his face. As he had danced with you, he had finally put a word to the feelings he got when around you; the butterflies, the way his mind was filled with nothing but fuzzy thoughts about you, the fuzzy feeling in his chest, the quick beat of his heart when he kissed the top of your head, the spark that ran through him when he touched your skin.

He was in love; he was in love with (y/n) Charming. He covered his face and bit his lip as his face turned red, muffing his love-induced laughter as not to disturb the sleeping Gil.

He was in love with you and he didn’t have a damn problem with it.

-end of part 4-

permtaglist~!

@queer-cosette @sephiralorange @lunanight2012

@daughter-of-the-stars11 @musicarose @rintheemolion

@random-thoughts-003 @imtryingthisout @remembered-license

@thecaptainsgingersnap @jatp-rules-my-life @verboetoperee

@saryguerrero

#Descendents #descendants #disney descendants #harry hook #harry hook descendants #harry hook x reader #harry hook imagine #dancer reader #ballet dancer reader #daughter of cinderella #chads sister #regained passion

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sweetestlamb · 3 years

Text

Walk Through A Storm

Author's note: Honestly, like I could help myself from doing this. it's short because I need to actually get my life together but enjoy. Oh also I don't wanna think anymore so someone give me title in the comments lol I'll pick the one that fits the best. (Thanks for actually giving suggestions, one really spoke to me!)

Summary: "I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet."

"I thought you were going to reject me." She whispers in between the small space between them, their lips are close enough to meet again in another soul burning kiss and he's tempted to close the gap again. They can talk later so for the second time in his life he wants to be selfish, she brings that out in him; makes him hungry for more than he thinks he deserves. She's been doing that since he first met her.

"I'm not ready to stop kissing you yet." Her eyes widen at his whispered words and without pause he leans closer softly pressing his lips against hers. She tastes sweet like the best candy he could never get as a young boy. Her little hands slide up his back dragging him closer and he goes easily, his walls are saw dust at this point and she's a windstorm. Wrapping his arms fully around her body he pulls her closer, cupping the back of her head as he swipes his tongue at the seam of her lips. She gasps in a way that makes his blood bubble and flow southward. The sea roars besides them providing the soundtrack to their first cognizant kisses. Hopefully the first of many.

The kiss drags and overlaps, her tongue persistent in his mouth and her hands busy stroking and rubbing at his back. It takes all of his willpower to sever their connection but he's starting to feel light-headed (and horny). This all still seems like a dream ever since he saw her running over to him, when she was supposed to be in Seoul. Leaving without telling him. Making him think the worst.

"Why do you look like you want to cry?" She cups his cheeks and he's reminded of that unforgettable night. She looks so concerned that he wants to disappear not used to being on the receiving end of such looks.

"Nothing. I'm fine." He tries to brush her off, viciously wiping at his eyes but she doesn't let him push her away, grabbing his hands tightly in her own. "Tell me what you're thinking. I told you everything in my head."

He almost chuckles at her expectant gaze. She sounds like him demanding payment.

"People usually leave but you're the first...to come back early." He smiles sadly thinking about all the people he'll never see again, and how he considered that she might go back to Seoul and realize that she was much too big for the pond that was Gongjin. He wouldn't have stopped her, she deserved the whole world.

"The first hm. I like that." He stares at her face, grinning at the satisfied grin and the enveloping dimples on both sides of her face.

"A daughter with your dimples would be dangerous, I think I'd understand how Chun-jae feels then." She pauses at his words mouth gaping and it hits him just what he's implied about their future. It's presumptuous and he should correct it but his tongue feels too heavy and her bright eyes suck the air from his lungs.

"Where's Mi-Seon? How did you get back so quickly?"

"Oh." She jumps cutely, suddenly hitting him on the shoulder and he winces ready to scold her for hitting him so close to his injury. But then she starts hitting herself on the head and instinctively he grabs her, stopping the self inflicted abuse.

"Stop that. I like that head." It's cheesy, something he would have cringed at if he heard another utter it but once he sees the smile she rewards him with none of that matters anymore, he'll say anything to make her beam like that.

"You're such a flirt." She fails at sounding bothered. "Oh and I left her in Seoul. It started raining and I realized you were it for me so I ran into the rain and left her on the sidewalk. Crazy right?" She starts snickering at her own words and he stares at her taken aback laughter forced out of his lungs at her infectious giggles.

She comes into his house like she belongs there, going to his fridge without permission and grabbing a bottle of water. He feels parched watching her drink it, never before has he wished to be a plastic bottle. So many firsts with her.

"What are you staring at?" She tilts her head like a bunny and he can't get the image of her with floppy ears out of his head.

"Cute."

"What?" She blushes furiously at his accidental slip and he clears his throat before grabbing his phone, desperately needing a distraction.

"Nothing. I'll call someone to pick up Mi-Seon."

"Who are you calling?" She asks walking over to him, sitting far too closely for his brain to function at maximum capacity. When a deep familiar masculine voice answers she squeals, bouncing in her seat and giving him thumbs up. He feels so proud he could burst.

"Don't say no. She's all alone and abandoned. What if something happens to her? Could you live with yourself?" He replies to the stuttering officers weak refusals and those are the right words to get the meek man moving, it's comical that he would be playing matchmaker for anyone else.

"You're a master manipulator." She accuses and he stares in surprise, "Does it upset you?" But she surprises him by leaning closer, spread deliciously across his compact couch. "No. It's sexy." Her face is glorious under the soft lighting in his living room and he swallows the drool collecting in his mouth, embarrassed when it starts a coughing fit. She thumps his back firmly before thrusting her water at him, "Drink." He listens obediently.

He gulps at the bottle, taking a deep breath before collapsing backwards into the couch.

"Am I making you nervous?" Making. As if it's only a present occurrence, as if she hasn't been making him swallow his words and expectations from the very beginning. He shifts looking at her through narrowed eyes.

She's far too innocently twirling her hair blinking up at him with wide eyes.

"You're doing this on purpose." She smiles serenely at the claim, leaning back onto the couch and by default his arm that's strewn across the top. She presses her body into the side of his body and he tightens his hold on her shoulder. It all feels too natural.

"I'm surprised it's working. You never seemed affected by me. You denied liking me so easily. Biological crisis, my ass."

He jumps at her cursing, she sounds too much like her father. It makes him smirk.

"I thought I had to. You were right, we are so different. I thought it was something fleeting for you, you told me you're someone who gets curious."

"Pfftt. You think I get curious about just anyone? I have high standards. I'm quite a catch you know?" Her signature bravado, but this time he can see through the veil better. Can spot the cracks and tears and it makes him want to protect her even more.

"I know. You're the best thing I've ever caught."

He'll never grow tired of being the reason that face turns so pink and flushed. (Immediately pushing aside an image of her beneath him.)

"Wait here. I have something for you." He wants to argue as she starts to leave his embrace but she's too quick for his grabby hands and he pouts at her unwanted departure. He moves to follow her but she's back before he's even finished putting on his shoes.

"Where did you go? We could have gone together."

"What? Did you miss me?" She teases, dimples flashing up at him.

"Don't be absurd." He denies but his cheeks burn yes.

"Whatever. I went to get this. Here." She thrusts a large bag at him, looking excited and embarrassed all at once. He takes it confused, prying it open and feeling more confusion wash over him.

"These are men's shirts." He says dumbly and she stares unimpressed at him, rolling her eyes before nodding.

"Yes. I got them for you in Seoul. Keep them even if you don't like them. They're a gift." She looks so small and... scared that he reacts without thinking, dragging his shirt over his head and throwing it to the side. The sight that welcomes him as his head pops out of the hole is not a new one, but it's still as effective as the first time. Hye Jin looks desperate, eyes locked on his now naked chest. His skin raises under her intense gaze.

"Miss Dent--Hye Jin ah?" His call doesn't do anything, well that's a lie it doesn't knock her back to reality like he'd expect instead it seems to be the siren call that lures her closer to him. Her hand outreached before landing on the tense muscles in his stomach, with one touch he already feels devastated.

"What are you doing to me?" He aches to feel and touch and kiss and fuc-

But it's too soon for all that. They haven't even defined this yet and despite all the lines they've crossed he wants to do this right.

Taking a step back he escapes her torturous touch and pulls a shirt from the bag, ready to cover himself back up from her too penetrating gaze.

"Wait." Her voice is so raspy and longing he has no choice and he watches mesmerized as she watches him hungrily, eyes darting all over his naked skin dissecting him. He swallows hard when he sees her little hands balled up in fists by her side. Disbelief swirling in his belly. "Okay. You can do it. That's enough....for now."

His cheeks flare at the seductively spoken words and to stop himself from devouring her like a starved man he slides on a smooth button down shirt. It fits him perfectly and gulps as he buttons it up. Nobody besides his grandfather ever bought him clothes.

"It's a perfect fit." Hye Jin echoes his thoughts smoothing a hand across the soft material. He stands ramrod straight at her ministration.

"Thank you. I'll wear it well." His throat is thick and he has to blink to chase away the tears pooling there, dangerously close to falling. She hums before stepping forward into his space again, that kiss effectively tearing down all the walls and lines they had both erected and drawn.

"You're already wearing it so well. But...it looks even better off. I can't wait to see it on my bedroom floor."

A scandalized squeak is all he's able to get out before she's diving at him and devouring his lips so roughly that they tumble onto the floor.

The pain in his shoulder is worth it as she kisses him senseless systematically driving out every doubt and insecurity. At least for tonight.

#hometown cha cha cha #hong du shik #yoon hye jin #sikhye #I was screaming kiss kiss omg #i was actually hyperventilating #i thought things would fall apart #I'm traumatized #episode 9 made me wanna write angst #but then 10 came and said nah b

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