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hoboal87 · 3 years

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Don’t Speak, Part 2

Title: Don’t Speak, Part 2

Pairings: au!Dark!John x Reader, au!Dark!Sam x Reader, au!Dark!Sam x Reader x au!Dark!Dean, Sam x Dean

Word Count: 2.1k+

Summary: Y/N’s nightmare is only just beginning.

Warnings: Non-Con/Rape, angst, daddy kink, breeding kink, Wincest, forced orgasms, forced voyeurism, forced marriage, forced pregnancy, knife play, breath play, humiliation, hints of Stockholm Syndrome.

A/N: I have embraced the darkness! I’d like to thank @cockslut-padalecki and @negans-lucille-tblr for encouraging me to write outside my comfort zone and the product is this filth.

A/N 2: This is more plot than I intended, but there is plenty of smut! 18+ only

TW: Non-Con/Rape - There is nothing about this that is consensual in any way. Please, READ THE WARNINGS AND DO NOT READ if you feel that it will offend and/or trigger you. Don’t like? Feel free to move along.

No Beta all mistakes are mine. (I still have tense issues, I’m aware.)

My Full Masterlist

Part One

The eldest Winchester wasn't lying, and a small part of you is glad that Sam and Dean had taken you first. John is as long as Sam and as thick as Dean, and every pump of his cock feels like it's splitting you in half. John releases you completely from your bindings and you use what strength you can to fight back against him. You claw at him, but he doesn't stop, if anything, he seems to enjoy the struggle you're putting up.

"That's it darlin’," he whispers, but there’s no sincerity behind his words. “The more you fight, the longer I’m gonna hold off. Maybe let the boys have a go at you again,” he smirks.

He turns your head so that Sam and Dean are back in your line of sight. Neither of them are paying any attention to your or their father, instead, Dean has Sam bent over a chaise, and all you can make out are their grunts as Dean’s hips slam against Sam’s ass.

Your eyes widen in horror at the sight of the brothers, John chuckles, and when you try to turn away, his hand slaps across your face.

“I didn’t tell you that you could look away, did I, darlin’?” He scolds you, pulling his cock out and maneuvering you onto your stomach. “What was that?” He asks, keeping one hand firmly on your face, forcing you to continue watching the brothers.

“N-no,” you squeak as he impales you on his hard cock again.

“No, what, darlin’?” He leans forward, his breath hot on your cheek.

“No, sir.” You whimper, but it was clearly not what John wanted to hear, as his free hand moved around your neck, cutting off your air supply, all the while, you can feel the coil tightening once again. It’s humiliating; how many times you’ve come no matter how hard you fight against your body, the Winchesters are relentlessly ripping orgasm after orgasm out of you. He squeezes tighter, and you wrack your brain trying to think of what he wants to hear.

“D-daddy,” you murmur, your eyes never leaving Sam and Dean. John removes his hands from your face and neck, and instead cages you underneath him.

“That’s right, darlin’, I’m your daddy now,” he licks your ear, and a shiver runs through you. He lifts your hips, and forces you to spread your legs as far as you can. All the while keeping his fast and brutal pace. “Keep watching my boys, see how special their love is.”

Even with your obscured vision, you can see Dean snaking his hand underneath Sam’s hips. Sam lets out low fuck, and from what you saw you earlier you can assume that Dean is stroking his cock.

You don’t move and try not to make any sounds at all. John, like his sons, enjoyed the fight, and you try to save some of your dignity by not giving into them so easily.

Your body goes limp as John continues thrusting, grunting and groaning as you hope he’s nearing his own completion. You close your eyes briefly, but a sharp sting of John’s palm lands on your ass, causes you to open them and focus on the brothers.

“Fuck, Sammy,” Dean groans. His arm moves faster, and Sam whines, arching back, so that he is flush against Dean’s chest. You get a full view of Sam’s cock, covered mostly by Dean’s hand.

“Keep watching,” John orders as his hips begin to stutter.

“Dean,” Sam whines as ropes of cum land on the chaise, and Dean gives a half-dozen thrusts before stilling.

John holds himself deep inside you, seemingly cumming over and over again inside you, and you can feel it leaking out of you when he pulls away. As he did when he first entered the room, he chuckles at the sight, and you feel his fingers brush against your abused pussy.

You fear John will scope up the remnants and force you to swallow his juices as he did before, but instead he pushes them back into your cunt.

“Can’t waste Daddy’s cum, Y/N,” he tsks, “how else are we gonna put a son in you?” John grabs a corner of the silk sheets, and wipes off his cock, his eyes never leaving you as you remain frozen. “Clean her up and dress her,” John orders as he pulls on his trousers, Sam and Dean stepping up behind him. “Our carriage arrives in an hour.”

“Yes, sir,” the brothers answer in unison.

“See if one of the whores downstairs can do something about her face. Don’t want the priest to get the wrong idea,” John lets out a low, breathy chuckle. “And make a decision about which one of you is gonna marry the slut.”

“Sir,” Dean steps forward. “We were thinking–”

“No,” John hisses seemingly knowing what the unasked question is going to be. “The deal was I let you and your brother fuck around, on the condition that one of you gets a wife and produces an heir.” The thought of any of the men putting a child in you makes your stomach turn, and you can’t help but vomit at the thought. None of the Winchesters seem to notice, or if they do, they don’t care.

“A crueler father would’ve found you a bride the minute you were eligible,” John continues, only stopping to give you a momentary glance. “People back home are starting to question why neither of you have married yet. I don’t care which one of you takes the bitch on, or who the child belongs to, one of you is getting married before we leave London. Do I make myself clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Dean answers for both brothers.

John finishes redressing, and stalks away. The brothers share a cursory glance, before moving towards you. You flinch at their touches, even though they are softer and more delicate than before. You curl into yourself, helpless to do anything.

Your wrists are bruised where you were once bound, your pussy throbs from the multiple intrusions, and to your embarrassment, you’re still leaking John’s cum.

Dean disappears for a moment, and you watch as Sam's eyes roam your body, like you're a piece of meat, and he’s as hungry as he was before. You try to cover yourself, not that it really mattered, the brothers had already seen more of you than you had of yourself.

You bring your knees to your chest, and wrap your arms around them, foolishly thinking that it could deter either brother from taking you again.

Dean appears with a modest dress, it wasn’t the one you had worn to the party, but you figured they’d ripped it apart while you were unconscious. Dean hands the dress off to Sam, and instructs him to help you dress while he finds someone to work on the state of your hair and face. Sam huffs at the order, but complies, pulling Dean into a raw and passionate kiss.

Dean mumbles something about later, and leaves you and Sam alone in the strange bedchamber. Sam grabs at your ankles, and though you know you have little to no chance of being able to fight him off, you throw all of your weight into your free leg aiming for his gut.

You feel the sole of your foot connect with his trim and taut stomach, and Sam doubles over. You take the opportunity to make for the doorway, modesty be damned, you needed to get away from the Winchesters before you forcibly married into their family and made nothing more than a broodmare.

Each step you take is like walking on needles, but you push through the pain as best you can, screaming out for help. The door’s nearly within your reach when everything goes black.

You wake up in the restraints again, now with Sam leaning over your body, the silver blade that was once in Dean’s possession now sliding across your chest.

“Bad idea, Y/N,” Sam grumbles, and you pull against your bindings. “Gonna have to teach you a lesson now.” Sam puts more pressure on the blade, enough to draw blood, and most likely scar your body. You wince as he continues, holding back your tears as long as you can, until he begins rutting against you, his cock getting hard through his trousers as he rubs against your naked pussy.

He slides his trousers down, just enough to expose his hardening cock, and you attempt to bring your legs together, trying to do something– anything to keep him from fucking you again. Sam brings the blade to your neck, and he doesn’t need to say anything for you to understand what will happen if you don’t cooperate.

“Lucky you're still filled with my father’s cum,” he says softly, “won’t have to get you ready for me.”

You let out a silent scream as Sam pushes inside. He doesn’t give you any time to adjust, instead, he starts moving in long and hard thrusts, unlike before, where the brothers were getting amusement out of your unwanted arousal, this was Sam’s way of showing you that he was in complete control.

Sam grunts over you, and brings his head down to where he had drawn blood just minutes before, and laps up at the crimson liquid. He places bruising kisses upon your lips, and gnaws at your shoulders, breaking the skin.

“You’ll make such a good wife, Y/N,” he murmurs in your ear, as if you are supposed to take it as a compliment. “Once Dean and I fuck the disobedience out of you, you’ll be perfect,” Sam pants over you, and you swallow thickly at his words. “Can’t wait to see you round with our son.”

Bile fills your throat again at the mention of being forced to carry a child that you do not want. Treacherous tears leave your eyes before you can stop them, and you focus your gaze on the ceiling, hoping and praying that Sam will finish soon.

“Just couldn’t resist taking her again, couldja Sammy?” Dean’s voice fills the bedroom again. “I guess this means she’ll be Mrs. Sam Winchester,” Dean approaches the bed, and sits on the edge.

He watches intently as Sam continues to abuse your cunt before moving behind you. Sam stops as Dean situates himself behind you, propping you against him. The atmosphere changes, and you realize that Sam is no longer the one in charge, Dean is.

“Sammy being good to you, sweetheart?” He murmurs into your ear, and when you don’t respond Dean tuts at Sam. “Let her cum, Sammy.”

“She tried to leave,” Sam argues, and Dean lets his hands roam over your body.

“Leave? Bad idea, sweetheart,” one of Dean’s hands cups your breast, while the other makes it way down your stomach, and reaches your swollen bud.

You moan unwillingly when Dean begins toying with you, building an orgasm, that you hate to admit you want. Sam’s thrusts become more deliberate, now that Dean’s here, Sam seems to want to please him by making you cum on his cock.

You can feel Dean hardening beneath you, but he makes no effort to use you for his own pleasure.

Sam leans over you, and for a moment, you think he might kiss you, but instead, he presses his lips against Deans. Though you’re practically face-to-face, Sam’s focus is no longer on you, but on his brother.

Dean continues to swipe at your bundle of nerves, and when he commands it, you cum hard, coating Sam’s cock with your arousal.

Everything after that is a blur, you remember the brothers dressing you, a woman entering and making you look “presentable,” before quickly leaving. You’re led to a room where John and a priest stand quietly.

You tried to protest, but John explained to the priest that you’d been ill, and that your parents had already given their blessing for you to marry. The priest bought the story, not that it surprised you, a woman’s word held nothing over a man’s.

John reached over to hug you, a seemingly loving gesture to anyone unaware of his true nature. He not-so-subtly reminded you that you no longer were a lady of the court, but you’d be the property of him and his sons. You nod, the only thing you can do, and smile slightly, and whispers of good girl, fill your ears as he places a gentle kiss on your forehead.

A few hours later, you’re boarding a ship bound for America, a trip that would take no less than a month. The Queen must’ve given the Winchesters more money than you could ever imagine, as the four of you were the only passengers. You’re greeted by a dark-haired, blue-eyed man.

“Ma’am,” he bows his head slightly, and whether it be intentional or not, reminds you of your new role.

Mrs. Winchester.

Forever Tags

Part Three

Please, please, let me know what you think via ask or reblog!

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Don’t Speak Tags

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#non con #dark!fic #dark!sam #dark!dean #dark!john #dark!sam x virgin!reader x dark!dean #dark!john x reader #wincest #sam x dean #dark!sam x reader

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yandere-society · 3 years

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Moonlight

Pairing: Taehyung x Female Reader

Synopsis: Taehyung was a man of many things: handsome, young, rich, the reigning lord of the Kim manor. He was a man adored, a man respected. But beneath the studly exterior, he held a dark, demonic secret that floated towards the surface once every full moon. It was this secret that would unknowingly entangle you in his claws until there was no way out.

Word Count: 7.2k

Warnings: Yandere themes, Possessive Tae, Werewolves, Kidnapping mention, Sexual assault, Murder, Death, also it’s unedited cause I hate myself

Headline: Beast Of The Night Strikes Again! 2 Dead, Several Injured

Admin: @roses-ruby

The town suffers through another full moon of terror as the one described as the ‘dog beast’ struck again late last night. Lawmen are baffled at the carnage, describing the victims torn limbs and missing hearts as an act- “most definitely inhumane.” Townsfolk have stated that they heard the creature growl and moan for hours on end until it seemingly disappeared near the Kim manor. As for the owner of the manor, Kim Taehyung - an attractive bachelor who inherited his great grandfather’s land - refused to comment and dismissed the claims of such a being as “ludicrous and delusional.” Whatsoever it may be, the fact of the matter is that there is someone or something raging with bloodlust every time the moon shines its brightest and it might just be out for your heart next.

“It is truly incredible how some of the most credible news sources have begun to sound so half-witted these days… ‘attractive bachelor?’ Seems like you’re up for auction in the middle of this tragic incident…”

“It is a small town with unusually large tales…they’ll do anything to sell their trashy story…” He runs his fingers through his long black locks, a small huff of irritation leaving his lips.

“A story that will keep children up past midnight I’m sure…” The older gentleman places today’s paper back on the table and walks up to where the younger stood, matching his distant stare out the window. “The flowers were exceptionally beautiful in this year’s bloom. Such a shame they’ll be dead soon.”

It was a passive observation, one he didn’t have to respond to; however, it was his nature to always hold a firm stance on even the slightest of interactions. He hums in agreement, gazing out towards the colorfully green garden that his study overlooked. But rather than admiring the beauty of the large field, his eyes were instead hooked on a small figure bustling about the grounds in a long black dress.

“Master,” A calm voice interrupted him from his trance, “Shall I adjust your schedule in case you were to head into town today?”

His long-time butler, Seung, bowed quietly in his direction.

“No need.” He replies mindlessly.

“Now, now,” His uncle next him chuckled, the wrinkles around his eyes deepening, “It would do you good to show your handsome bust among the public. Your presence as Lord might provide some comfort…”

As if he should be the one comforting weeping mothers and terrified children.

He was about to decline the smiling face of this man who bore him nothing but animosity, but he was interrupted by his uncle’s careless gaze suddenly modifying into something additionally sinister.

“Or is it that you’re too tired for such a simple task? You look as if you have not slept in ages. Are you doing alright, perhaps?”

Other than the shiver that ran down Taehyung’s spine at his foxiness, he was unfazed by the weighty question. Usually, his feigned concern would make him chuckle, if he wasn’t so emotionally exhausted from last night’s events.

“I’m fine.” He turns to Seung without missing a beat, “Uncle is right. Get the carriage ready, I will be heading into town today.”

“Yes, Master.” Seung bows, but before he could quietly leave the room, Taehyung calls for him again. “And get my Uncle’s carriage ready for departure as well. I am sure at his age he would love nothing more than to be resting at home this very moment.”

There was a small confrontational silence between the senior and him after his loaded remark. But it vanished the very next second when his Uncle began to chuckle loudly, as if there was nothing but mirth between the two of them.

“You are right on the mark, young lad. As sharp as ever I see.” He spins around, walking back to the table he once sat at “I shall be out of your hair soon.”

Taehyung watches him as he picks up the paper he had been scrutinizing before he commences his departure from the chamber.

“Are you perhaps interested in the dog beast?”

“Why, not at all,” He responds calmly, turning to the younger with the same somber expression as before, “I just need some entertainment for the road. Surely, you don’t mind?”

He did not. For now, he desired his uncle’s departure the most. It was not as if he could see his own forthcoming demise stained in the ink of that paper.

Autumn’s cool breeze surrounds your body as you tend to the large grounds of the Kim manor, trimming off uneven stems from a massive rose bush.

“___,” A frantic voice suddenly calls your name, capturing your attention as your gaze falls down onto a petite figure dressed in a similar maid’s uniform running towards you, “___! Did you hear?”

“About?”

“Today’s paper!” Seulgi spoke out of breath, like it was the most obvious thing, “Those men…aren’t they the same lads who-”

“SSHHH!” You hiss, blocking her loudmouth with your palm. Her whines against your hand were similar to that of an adolescent as you whirled your head around the garden, making sure no one was near your vicinity. “I told you not to speak a word of that!”

Seulgi successfully tugs you off of her, “I know! But is it not bizarre? That beast attacked those men!”

“There is no beast!” You growled, “Everyone in town was aware that Wan and his men were good-for-nothing hooligans! They probably wandered into the forest late at night, drunk and belligerent, and attracted a bear!”

“Hmm, perhaps…” Seulgi pouts, “But what about the articles? All those farmers who lost their cattle the same exact way… with their hearts missin-”

“I’m sure those are nothing but carnivorous rodents.” You huff in irritation, picking up the sheers to return to your work. The girl besides you threw a tantrum using her feet, and you wonder when exactly it was that you befriended such a child. “Are you even done with your station or will I have to do that for you again after the Housekeeper is done scolding you?”

This manages to scare her off, and you watch her retreating figure in slight humor before turning back to the rosebush. As you snap another set of leaves, you manage to take a glance at the window of the lord’s study, apprehensively watching his back disappear further into his room.

All you’ve wanted from this manor and its lords was a chance to toil quietly – in peace. Your simple servant status does not offend you, rather it provides you security in relations with the world. You were not interested in meddling with anyone’s affair, especially with those who lived in powerful and dangerous realities. So, it does not matter.

What you saw last night, near the clearing behind the manor does not matter. It had nothing to do with you, and you were planning on keeping it that way.

Lord Kim was annoyed.

Really though, when was he not? As the carriage decelerates into the gates of his estate, his exhaustion only multiplies. Faking a straight face and an empty gaze took its toll on him, even if he had been playing theater his whole life. It was hard enough to keep up with this perfect charade as the lord of the manor, but it had just gotten worse with time…and with the incidents.

He was reluctant to head into town, leer over dismembered bodies and chat with the commissioner, but did so anyway thanks to his uncle’s instigation. It wasn’t like he had much of a choice - any sign of weakness would invite his extended family to sink their teeth and claws into him, wringing him dry within a matter of minutes. His father died too early and Taehyung did not bear a successor yet, so whoever would be the first to either exhaust, kill or seduce him would eventually take his place as lord. After being unfortunate enough to witness countless amounts of cruelty from them since age eight, he knew he had to keep his farce strong.

Common folk would think he was protecting his blessed birthright. But in a deep, hidden corner of his mind, the reality loomed that neither this life nor this manor was blessed in the slightest.

“We’re home, my lord.” His thoughts are interrupted as the carriage stops, the door opening to reveal a flawlessly still Seung waiting for him to disembark.

As he exited his carriage, his shoulders drooping and head spinning, his eyes managed to fall on you in the distance. You stood far away, underneath the stone canopy of the servant’s quarters, next to that bumbling friend of yours with your head bowed as the housekeeper shouted herself silly at the both you. It seems that you have once again found trouble thanks to the petite nitwit by your side.

Yet still, even with your gaze downcast, he could sense the poise in your stance. An aura of composure and self-confidence that has never left your being no matter where you stood, or who stood over you. At first, he just happened to relate to you and the notion of keeping together a tough act. But over time, he came to realize that you weren’t acting at all – that you, a mere servant, were as perfectly assured as you seemed.

It made him envious.

“Master?” Seung pulled him back to reality.

He turned away, scuffing his expensive shoes amongst the gravel to head into the direction of his manor. Yet still, after the small sight of you, he couldn’t help but smile to himself for the first time that night.

“Dinner is served.”

A tray was lifted to reveal a large pot of thick, saucy white soup. He had wanted something light ever since the previous night, and the chef had delivered quite nicely. Taehyung sits patiently, waiting to be served as the maidservants walk into the room with the housekeeper. His eyes immediately land on you out if habit, and he wonders if you were to tend to him tonight. But to his surprise, it’s your friend who comes up to the table to oblige him his dinner instead. She takes a ladle and dips it into the soup – just a minute, she forgot to pick up his soup bowl?

Realizing she forgot the bowl; she looks startled for a bit before she hovers a hand underneath the ladle and walks closer to his direction. He has to try really hard not to burst out into a fit of laughter as he witnesses you shake in fear at her antics. Seems like he was not the only one distracted because the very next second your friend trips over her own foot on the way to his bowl and loses her grip on the soup-filled ladle, which flies towards him.

And in an instant, his whole head was wet and runny with his dinner. It was quiet for the first minute – which appeared to have stretched out into hours for the servants – until many different voices began shouting at once.

“Y-young Master! T-Towel- I shall fetch a towel!”

“MY LORD!”

“My lord! I-I-I apologize I-!”

He glanced at you out of the corner of his eye. Your face was stiff in horror as you watched the creamy soup drip off his hair. Seung ran back into the room with a towel in his arm as the housekeeper bellowed at your friend.

Before Seung could wipe his hair, Taehyung held his wrist and took the towel into his own hands. Then he stood up, surprising the whole room, even the shrieking housekeeper, shut. He lightly wiped the edges of his bangs for a minute in silence, feeling the wet soup drool into his shirt before he turned towards your friend.

“Well, what a mess…” He stated absentmindedly, watching the girl shrink under his gaze until she became as small as a pebble. She seemed to be trying her utter best not to cry.

“Lord…” A soft, but confident voice interrupted the dead silence of the room. You stepped up next to your friend, your head down as you cleared your throat, “It…It is my fault actually…”

Your friend turns to you in shock. Everyone in the room was now glancing at you; the servants with petrified eyes and Taehyung with amused ones.

“Explain yourself.”

“Th-that…I spoke about the dog beast who was in today’s paper to miss Kang and…and I seem to have frightened her which is why she’s been a bit distracted…b-but it is my fault, so I deserve the punishment.”

“N-no!” You friend suddenly cries in a strained voice and you elbow her to keep shut. She opens and closes her mouth like a fish, before complying to your implication with her eyes squeezed shut tight. The servants all held their breath, waiting for the lord’s next move. They all seem to flinch when he sighs,

“…I see…” Taehyung holds in a chuckle, “You’re right miss ___, this indeed seems to be your fault…”

Seulgi quietly whines in her throat and you wish she could for once read your mind and jam her loud trap.

“…Well then,” Taehyung’s deep voice captures your full attention, “Meet me in my room an hour before midnight. I shall decide on your punishment by then.”

No one said anything further, but they all seemed to be thinking of the exact same thing. Even Seung appeared disturbed. But…it just couldn’t be… The lord has never even taken an interest in women much less bed with one. You, too astonished to remember your place, straightened your posture and stared at him straight in the eye for the very first time. There wasn’t any hint of jest or error, which left you further baffled at the Lord’s request.

No, perhaps it was just you who misunderstood.

“Y-yes Lord.” You manage to spit out.

At your approval the lord smiles, which startles you out of your insolence. You return to your humble position as the Lord begins to walk away from the room.

“Seung, prepare my bath.” Taehyung calls out in glee.

“…Yes, master…”

You sigh, standing in front of the thick wooden door of your Lord’s master chamber.

“Well, there goes the goal of keeping from trouble…” You whisper to yourself in defeat. And thanks to that gigantic fool Seulgi, you were late to your own punishment trial. She would not stop crying and apologizing, even though you told her it was now your problem, so she has nothing to be sorry about.

Still, the main dilemma for you in this moment was not her, but your current circumstances. Why were you called out to the Lord’s chamber an hour before midnight? The sensitive time frame would provide anyone the wrong impression, not just you. If he really were to ask you to…bed with him…what then?

You quickly shake your head no. It was not healthy for you to have such thoughts about your Lord. Since adolescence, you had been a reasonable girl who was guided by logic. There was no rationality in this idea and you’re sure Lord Kim had a good excuse for calling you out so late – an excuse that has nothing to do with...whatever you were just thinking. After pulling yourself together with a deep breath, you knock on the wood three times.

“Come in.” You immediately hear, which allows you to nervously turn the handle and push open the door.

There stood Lord Kim, by the end of the bed, in his sleepwear. His hair was a mess of slight, drooping curls, possibly the aftermath of his bath, and his stare was a lot more lax than normal. You gulped quietly under his gaze, stepping into the room and letting the door shut behind you.

“You’re late, miss ___.” His voice was deep, but soft. It felt as if he was trying to jester you.

“I-I apologize, my Lord. I was held up by the housekeeper…”

It was a lie and you did feel guilty, but it would also be immensely satisfying to witness that old witch being chided.

“My, my, it seems like she is always after you and that friend of yours,” You could hear what sounded like mischief in his tone, “Which reminds me, she came to speak to me.”

“The housekeeper?”

“No, your friend. She told me you lied for her.”

That was the last straw. You were going to kill that idiot.

“I…I…S…” What were you to say now? Should you apologize for your dishonesty?

“I think it’s commendable.” You were interrupted from your thoughts by your Lord’s words. When you meet his eyes, you see him smiling gently in your direction. “You tried to protect your friend. It takes a good heart for that.”

“Thank you, sire…” You weren’t sure how to adequately respond - if he really was complimenting you. Your uncertainty stemmed from your upbringing; rather than a trait to compensate, behaving and caring for your younger siblings was regarded as your duty. It was also why maid work came so easily to you. And Seulgi, with her childish nature yet endearing personality, reminded you of those you tended to back home, so you considered looking after her a mere responsibility.

“I do like that nature of yours.” He proceeds casually, making you blush. “But I still have to punish you for your dishonesty.”

You nod your head, eyes falling to the floor. Even without gaping at him, you were aware of how strong his gaze was. It was only natural to get disciplined as a servant, but for it to come from Lord Kim himself made you fearful.

“Miss ___, sleep with me.”

Your head whirls up to meet his stare, shock painting your face.

“W-”

“Please don’t misunderstand me.” He sighs, running a hand through his hair, “Although you’re quite beautiful, I only desire your lap.”

…

What?

“I-” Your Lord stutters, facing away from you and crossing arms in embarrassment, “I just…these days I have been having some trouble sleeping. Many peers have remarked on my dark circles and laxing attitude. This won’t do! As the Lord of the Kim manor, I have to appear fully rested and in the best condition at all times or else.”

He turns back to your direction,

“W…when I was a young lad…I would sleep on my mother’s lap. It was the most comforting of places to me and sleep was never a cause for concern back then. Which is why…I wanted to seek that same comfort once more…so that I may be able to rest heartedly and prepare myself to face the world of politics tomorrow. I just…I was wondering if I could borrow your lap for a few nights?”

It was quiet after his explanation. Your mind gradually processing all the information in his tale. He appeared to be immensely nervous, as if waiting for you to decline. You had to hide your amusement.

“I am ready for my punishment, my Lord.”

The young Lord smiles, which has your heart racing. Surely, he was a beautiful man.

“Thank you. Please sit on the bed, near my headboard.” He orders bashfully.

You swung another sheet over the clothing line.

Days had passed since your initial ‘punishment,’ and today would mark the first whole month of you lending your lap to your Lord. Your nightly time with the Lord had become an occurrence you cherished. There was so much you managed to learn about the man who rested on you – like how he scrunches his nose when he encounters a nightmare or how he moans only when he is in his deepest of slumbers. He was different than how you originally imagined; his cold exterior was nothing but a farce. In reality, he was so childlike and so innocent.

So different from other men.

Yes, that’s right, he was nothing like Wan. Remembering that scoundrel had you shivering in your legs from disgust. You usually didn’t have the most pleasant encounters with the men in town, but Wan had been a special case. Although you did not wish to think ill of the dead, there was nothing ever good about that man, and frankly you’re not very upset that he’s gone.

You remember the day much too clearly; it was a week before he would meet his demise. The housekeeper had sent you and Seulgi into town on a shopping errand – she wanted you to pick up meat and vegetables for dinner. It wouldn’t be the first time you went into town for a chore, but it would certainly be the most unpleasant.

As you and Seulgi stepped out of the farmer’s store carrying a load of groceries in a paper bag you held with both arms, you spotted Wan and his friends walking towards you from the opposite direction. They were cackling loudly, drunk in the middle of the day and out of their minds. You paid them no attention, ready to head back to the manor but your unwitty friend stared straight at them until Wan eventually made eye contact with her.

“Well, well, well,” He slurred in your direction, catching your gaze, “If it isn’t the whores of Kim manor!”

Because of his brash nature, everyone’s regard fell on the two of you. You tried to look unfazed by his disgusting behavior, taking Seulgi by the hand and leading her around the men. But Wan interjected your path as his friends laughed on.

“We need to get back. Leave us alone.” You stated calmly

“Why, we won’t keep you for long,” He grinned, and you recoiled from the alcohol in his breath, “Besides, they won’t miss you- them rich folk. Isn’t that right, fellas?”

His friends began to shout and woo, enclosing in on you almost completely, and you could feel Seulgi shaking behind you.

“We need…to get back.” You say once again, cursing at yourself when your voice cracks. Wan throws his head back and laughs as hard as he could while the townsfolk just observe the show. Anger begins to well up alongside the fear and you purse your lips, picking up your feet and tugging Seulgi along.

It didn’t matter if you had to bulldoze through him, you were going to get back to Kim manor no matter what. So you step close, ready to collide into him before he suddenly sidesteps. Thinking he was distracted; you weren’t prepared for his swift movement and you certainly weren’t prepared to feel a hard thwack on your backside. A breath of surprise leaves your throat and the feeling in your arms disappear, which lets the paper bag fall out of your grasp, spilling its contents along the street. You stare at the ground, paralyzed by shock as Seulgi meekly cries out your name.

“Wan, you mad lad!” Someone from his group yells, clasping their hand into his in jest while they all express their amusement at your humiliation. The group aggressively howls, making perverse remarks before eventually continuing down the road, fully disregarding your presence. They left, without any consequences. As if they didn’t just horribly disgrace you.

“___...” Seulgi steps up to your side, crying her eyes out in worry. If this was another time you would console her – scold her for being a crybaby – but at the moment you could think of nothing. You had been a maidservant for almost a decade now and even then, you had never been treated so awfully. What’s worse is that they all saw…they all saw and said nothing.

Not wanting to waste a minute further, you fall to your knees and start gathering the vegetables that fell about. Seulgi calls your name again but you focus on your task. You have to stay composed, you have to stay composed – you repeat it to yourself like mantra. But that sensation of emptiness returns, and you freeze. Before you knew it, you were trembling on the floor with tears streaming down your face and everyone still watched on.

“___.” Seulgi wrapped herself around you tightly. For a moment your fortitude was shattered as you cried in her arms on that dirty street.

Wan was most definitely scum, you conclude with a huff as you finish straightening the laundered bedsheet. But still, you halt, dying the way he did…it’s something you wouldn’t wish on anyone. Your mind wanders back to that paper, torn limbs and missing hearts. Could it possibly be related to what you saw that night on the previous full moon? With a frown, you stare up at the sky, watching the whiffs of white clouds swirl through the blue fabric.

“___!” You hear the familiar shouts of your name and turn to see Seulgi running towards you. “___, there you are!”

“What is it this time?” You sigh as she encloses in on you

“___, is it true that you are consummating with the Lord?”

Dropping the sheet out of your hands, you spin towards the loudmouthed idiot, “W-w-w-where did you hear that?”

“The other maidservants were whispering on it,” She replies with an innocent grin, “Is he as good as the rumors say?”

“A-a-a-as the w-what? What rumors- what- consummate- a-are you out of your mind?” You were blushing from head to toe.

Seulgi looks dejected at your response, “So it isn’t true?”

“Of course not!”

“Ohh,” She groans sullenly, “But I guess it would be impossible for a lord to take interest in maidservants like us.”

Your bashfulness vanishes in an instant. She was correct, there is absolutely no reason for you to find yourself special. Lord Kim had made it clear that he has no interest in you, he just requires a lap and is too proud to ask someone close. This was originally a punishment for you and nothing more – you shouldn’t become too attached.

“___?” Seulgi’s voice was low, “Are you alright? You seem down…”

“…I’m fine.” You mutter, composing yourself, “But more importantly…why are you here to ask me about baseless gossip? Are you done with your station? Remember you have to use the right tools- just scrubbing vigorously doesn’t work-”

“Oh my god- yes, yes, yes!” She responds by childishly covering her ears, “I have to use the coil sponge not the foam one, I get it!”

You begin to scold her as she laughs, prancing around the grass without a care. But soon the humor dies down and it was time to return to work. Before she leaves for her station, she makes a passive comment.

“Tonight’s another full moon. In the night of Samhain.” There was something dim about her tone as she gazes up towards the sky. You join her, wondering if she somehow had the same bad premonition as you did.

While you were chatting with your friend, Taehyung was having tea with a man he’d rather throw into a river.

“What brings you here?”

“My, do you sound cold.” His uncle chuckles, taking another sip of his tea, “Am I not allowed to visit my nephew out of fondness?”

“Well, after twenty-so years, consider me surprised.” Taehyung deadpans, which only further humors the elder.

“Perhaps I do have a motive.” He grins for a moment before all signs of amusement vanish from his expression. “I could not help but toil my mind over that paper from before. The townsfolk swore they heard the dog beast growl late into the night before fading behind Kim manor.”

“I thought we agreed the paper was nothing more than gossip fodder.”

“And perhaps that’s all it is.” His uncle’s smile was innocent but held such contempt. “However, as a gentleman who resides in the city, I find myself quite inclined by the mysteries of small towns such as this.”

“What nonsense,” Taehyung scoffs, “Are you saying you wish to investigate this supernatural rubbish the townsfolks gripe about?

“Indeed! The dog beast is nothing but rubbish!” The elder’s laughter was hearty, “But then, there is the question of who killed those men?”

The room was silent, drowning in the animosity the two men felt for one another. Neither one spoke – his Uncle because he had nothing more to say and Taehyung because he felt his throat clogging. He wanted to decline, desperate to splurge words of refusal, but then the fact that he had something to hide becomes too apparent.

“Surely, you won’t mind me staying? Just for one night?”

“Stay as you wish, uncle.”

You were already situated on his bed when your Lord swung the door open.

The sound made you jump, and you immediately rose to your feet to show respect. He began walking towards you in a fast, heavy pace with his feet striking the wood. His face had you unnerved – anger in his frown as well as what you could only describe as dismay in his eyes. Before you could open your mouth to react, you were taken into his arms in a sudden and swift motion.

It left your mind blank.

He squeezed himself onto you, his chest colliding with yours as his scent surrounded your senses. Your arms were hovering his back while your fingers curled into themselves, unsure of your position at the moment. Lord Kim hugged you tight, as if he was afraid.

“M-my Lo-”

“Tonight.” He interjected, muffling into neck as he laid his head on your shoulder, “Do not let me go tonight, whatever you do. Hold onto me as tight as you possibly can, do you hear me? Do not let me wander, I beg you.”

His tone broke your heart. He sounded so frightened – so desperate and you had no clue on how to help him. The Lord has always been the strength of this household. No one had ever witnessed him so distressed, not even at the previous Lord’s funeral. Hesitantly, you placed your fingers against his vertebrate and sat back on the mattress, guiding him gently down with you.

“I won’t let you go, my Lord.” You didn’t know what else to say.

He placed his head on your lap, arms still clinging onto you like a child. His mind seemed to be in the middle of a warzone against himself. The memory of a young man sitting in front of his father’s casket, immobile and silent as a rock, was still so vivid to you. You had only been at Kim Manor for a few months back then, and you remember being disturbed by his attitude – wondering if he had any feelings at all. But after learning about how often his extended family plotted against him, to the point of kidnapping him as an eight-year-old, you began to view that tearless boy with pity.

Watching him tremble in your lap has you reaching out to him. Your digits tread into his soft hair and you slowly move them about to calm his tremors. He seems to respond; his quivers coming to a slight halt at your touch.

You don’t know for how long you rubbed his head, listening to him breath.

You don’t know when you fell asleep.

His whole body was aching as he walked towards the grass, trying to ease the sharp pain in his head.

He had been taught that the best place to alter was out in an open, murky environment. Somewhere you could feel the air on your skin as the patches of hair slit through your pores like needles through fabric. Yet still, somewhere impenetrable through the naked eye. There was an area like so behind Kim manor – a clearing that was connected to a large acre of uninhabited woods. And among those acres laid several swamps and bogs, which formed a thick layer of fog around the grounds of the manor – most prominent on the night of the full moon.

It was the perfect place for him, who had been poisoned with this modification.

With his mind as cloudy as the fog, he thinks back to the first time he witnessed his father alter. He was far too young, a month away from ten, when he was brought out to this clearing and visually counseled on his dreadful future. More than anything he wanted to look away, he did not wish to see his beloved father become this monster, but Seung held his hand tight and told him to hold witness for his very own sake. And he witnessed – witnessed his father thrash about as if he wanted to claw his own brains out and he cried.

He cried along with his father. But there was never any other option for him than to tolerate the dread from his place as heir to Kim manor.

It was always painful, every moment his heart pumped blood into his body, he moaned in agony. While the night raged on, he noticed his panting grew deeper by the second – tone sinking to a gruff growl which rips through his chest. His eyes and sense of smell grew keener, large nails grotesquely rip through his skin and his teeth began to enlarge. The image of the moonlight basking on his skin was the only thing offering him refuge.

If he had a choice, he would have chosen to stay inside with the warm you, stare enchantedly at your resting face like the many instants he’s done before. But his changes weren’t just physical. In this state he was bigger, louder, hairier, teethier – more aggressive. His desire for blood was intense but ever since he met you, so was this raw lust. As a rational man with a sense of morals, this perverse craving ashamed him, yet the beast inside did not care for his customs. It wanted to possess you, every ounce of you, thoroughly. To mate with you in a way that wasn’t meant for humans. Being around you in this condition would break the mental leash he chains this deviant with.

Although every time he alters, he feels it loosening. There was something wrong with him – his father and grandfather were able to restrain the beast from rampaging throughout town. But he, on the other hand, had been consuming the town as his sole hunting grounds for some months now. Which is why the “dog beast,” once a mere legend mentioned every decade, was printed in previous months paper.

It is as if the creature wishes to mock him and the slipping control.

Drenched in sweat and agony, he knew the transformation was almost complete when he suddenly heard a small noise. He immediately spun around and met the petrified eyes of his uncle.

Neither of the men spoke – both gaping at each other with pure, unfiltered fear. The chill of the night establishes its presence in the worst moment possible. Taehyung was afraid for reasons too many, none he could not lucidly list. He recalls what occurred the last time the beast was enraged by someone and he desperately wishes not to hurt anyone ever again in this form.

Opposite from him stood his uncle, wondering just one thought out of an infinite. How does a normal man, one untouched by the knowledge of this being, react in this situation?

A normal man would run. A normal man would cower in fear. A normal man would beg for his life. But he, the rightful heir to the manor, declined to let this young bastard trample him in such a way. It wasn’t that his uncle was a man without fear. And it wasn’t that he held great courage either, but rather, the very oxygen that burned through him was fueled purely by his stubbornness. He has spent the majority of his life trying to crush first his brother and now his nephew, so when this chance has presented itself so deliciously, he refuses to let it slip through his fingers.

“Y…” His voice was hoarse, throat achingly dry, “What are you?”

Taehyung stands there quietly, unresponsive to the question. Although he was the larger one, he felt so scared and so small. No one had ever spoken to him in this form which is why he was unsure of what to do. He had been a fool, he thought if he could sleep in your arms and you held him tight, he would be able to stop himself from altering tonight.

But now he understood, there was nothing that could.

“You killed those men.” His uncle continues, all on his own. As if he’s suddenly reached enlightenment.

“You do not…understand…” Taehyung shakes his head like a child about to be punished. He didn’t mean to kill anyone. He’s never hurt someone in his whole life. That night, on the previous full moon, it all occurred without any of his own authority.

Taehyung was a despicable man. Wan had hurt you, and he saw it. But rather than step in and intervene – rather than protect you from that scum – he instead just stood by and watched it transpire. No matter how many times he thinks back to it, no matter how often he racks his brain for an answer, he still does not understand why he did nothing. Perhaps he was paralyzed from his own traumas and forced himself to retain his composure – however the beast did not care for his pathetic reasons. It taunted him the whole week leading up to the full moon. Hurt him with insults he knew he merited.

“You’re weak.” It growled, “Weak and puny. I shall protect her myself.”

And then, for the very first time, Taehyung took the life of another human being without any cognizance. What’s worse is that he enjoyed it. That thought alone petrifies him.

“No, I do not understand you. And I do not wish to.”

“Please…” Taehyung begged as he held out his deformed hand to plead with the elder. Did this man think Taehyung desired this life? Did he think he desired this hundred year old curse - originating from a place long before his time - that was forced upon him and on any man who dared to reign over Kim manor. Perhaps despicable, but Taehyung was still softhearted. The reason why he tried so hard to keep his title as Lord was so that no one else would further suffer this abomination, even if it concerned his bastard uncle.

And it’s also the reason he made peace with dying alone, without a bride and without children. He was meant to stand alone. That is...until he met you.

“How dare you. How dare you grovel to me, you servant of the devil.” The disgust and venom in his uncle’s tone made him recoil.

“No-” It was only a matter of time before the beast consumed him whole and he was certain, like before, it would not spare any mercy. The adversity is something Taehyung direly yearns not to repeat.

“I shall bring the priest and the commissioner. I shall tell them what you did. You shall be brought to justice for what you did to those men. You shall suffer in hell when they burn you at the stake!”

“Please- uncle- please listen TO ME-” He clasped his claws against his mouth when his voice became utterly inhumane. The beast was crawling out of his throat and his sanity was slipping. No longer was he able to see what was in front of him and once again he began to fade, like he did all those times before.

“Run!”

Taehyung with the last of his conscious tried his hardest to warn the man and take a dash for the woods but it was far too late.

The last thing he heard was his uncle’s shrill scream, and then all silence for him.

You woke up to a thump.

Or at least you were certain that was what you heard as you sit up on the bed. Your vision was groggy, mind still half asleep as you look in the direction of the sound’s origin. For a minute it was soundless, and then there was another thump. You weren’t sure what it was, but you stood up nonetheless, slowly walking towards the door. Still unaware of your surroundings, you stop in front of the wood, distracted by your own dizziness.

In the tranquility of the room, you caught a noise so faint, you thought perhaps you were still in your nightmare from before. It was immensely faint, but you heard it. The rapid breathing behind the door. Unhurdled by emotions such as caution and reasoning for once, you swung the door open in confusion. And as soon as you did, your own awareness came back to you at full force.

A clothless man stood before you, covered from head to toe in blood and gore. Your breath was stuck in your throat, eyes widening into saucers once you saw the length of his fangs. It took you a full minute realize that it was Lord Kim.

“W…what…” You step back in horror. Perhaps you were still dreaming.

The fear had snuck up around your waist and grabbed you by the throat, leaving you without the ability to move. He gazed at you with eyes that were a bright yellow, yet darker than any man’s you have ever looked into. Your orbs travel down his body as you absorb in his abnormal height, his ripping muscles, his long fingernails and…and his hand.

There was a heart. In his hand, he gripped a fleshy and large organ and you knew it was a heart.

Missing hearts.

“Nooo…please.” You quiver, crying without him ever speaking a word. All signs of alarm were raised in your mind and you don’t even remember what it was for that you came here. Only Seulgi’s words about the dog beast reigned in your ear. The world was spinning as your Lord…as he began to walk towards you. Your life started to flash by your eyes, and you closed them shut tight, so you would no longer have to witness this terror.

“Shhh.” You heard a deep growl before you felt cold and abnormally large fingers on your face. A gasp escapes your throat as he caresses your cheek.

The next thing you knew, you were floating. Your eyes flew open and you saw yourself being carried by him. There was no moment for you to react, as you were subsequently placed upright onto the bed. No longer restrained by his arms, you shifted about in a frenzy.

“Ah…uh…”

“You are mine.” He states as if it was a fact.

Then he comes over you – wrapping his enormous, dirtied limbs around you as you squeak. He lays his head in your lap and you feel the tears leave your eyes as he yet again resembles your Lord. What you had thought of as just a hallucination from the fog was actually reality. That night, on the previous full moon, you woke up and strolled the grounds to clear your head of Wan. It was then that you saw the most horrid of things – you saw a giant dog shrink into a small human who resembled the Lord.

And you had told yourself lies. Told yourself it wasn’t true and told yourself to forget. But all logic was failing you now as a creature from hell winds down on your very own body. You muffle your cries and fear – too afraid to awaken the beast.

Taehyung laid peacefully in your arms; his mind detached from every other thing that did not concern you. The heart he held in his hand had stopped beating a long time ago, but he could still feel it slipping through his fingers. He is not sure, even as a beast, as to why he takes the hearts of victims. Perhaps it has something to do with how it’s his heart that hurts more than anything else each time he alters.

Well, it did not matter now, he thinks as his perception starts to drift. Nothing mattered at the moment – not the heart, nor his uncle’s body, not even your reaction. For this moment, more than anything, he just wants to rest.

To sleep, in your lap, under this cold, beautiful moonlight.

________

A/N: Okay so I really hate this I apologize. I had intended for it to be longer but well :) October has officially been 2020′s busiest month for me...but I hope you enjoy this garbage lmk what you thought!

#bts #kim taehyung #yandere bts #yandere taehyung #bts fluff #bts angst #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst #bts x reader #taehyung x reader

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andypantsx3 · 4 years

Text

ab intra | 6 | compos mentis

pairing: Shinsou Hitoshi / Reader

length: 18,811 words / 6 chapters

summary: When a wave of disturbing crimes sweep the city, underground hero Hitoshi Shinsou is assigned to work the case with you. What’s even more frustrating than his obnoxious personality is the fact no one will tell you why he’s involved. Things only get more suspicious from there.

tags: romance, thriller, misunderstandings, pro hero AU, reader-insert

warnings: aged up characters, eventual smut, suicide mentions, brainwashing, consensual mind control, some violence

It felt like your entire body was on fire.

You could hardly spare any capacity for thought, overwhelmed by the screaming burn of flames eating away at every inch of your skin. You felt like you might pass out from the pain, could already detect something like black spots on the edges of your vision, creeping in to crowd out everything else. Your sightline flickered, and then a towering wall of flames was rushing at you, lighting up your irises with burning oranges and reds.

You held desperately on to one thought, though, even as you dropped to the floor, writhing in pain. The villain--it hadn’t been Shinsou. You were overcome with a shame and regret that burned almost hotter than the flames licking at your body. You’d mistrusted him, suspected him, planned his downfall, but none of it had been him.

Shinsou...you needed to tell him you were sorry...This wasn’t real, this was a mind manipulation quirk. You needed to find some way out.

Abruptly, the pain guttered out, and your vision flickered again, revealing the chipped tiled flooring of the back room where you lay curled. There was the sound of heavy boots, and then a tall, lean figure in dark black was kicking open the door. You glanced up into that pair of brown eyes.

He was young, younger than you would have expected, plain-faced with a sweet, open cast to his features that might have set you at ease under other circumstances. But you knew who he was now. You knew what he could do.

He stared down at you, and an annoyed look crossed his features. “Another stubborn one, then?” he muttered, like you had inconvenienced him.

“You know it only hurts worse when I have to do it a second time,” he said, “so bad that you’ll kill yourself just to escape. You could have lived if you’d just been a little different. If you could have just let the pain take you, blacked out like all the rest.”

You slammed your eyes shut and he chuckled. “Have my number, do you, darling? You’re not the first, though. I know how to deal with you.”

You heard the scuff of his boots as he stepped closer, and your mind raced wildly. Your whole body felt shaky, sick, and weak, but you needed to do something. You had to make a move for your knife, but how fast was he? If he saw that coming, could he be quick enough to stop you? You didn’t have much choice, though, it was this or let him pry your eyelids open and kill you.

Before he reached you, however, there was a loud crash in the store beyond, and a sick thump like a body hitting the floor. Another shattering sound followed, chased by a low grunt. Another body hit the floor.

You felt the mind villain pause over you, then he was gathering you up in his arms, settling in behind you, one arm banded across yours to keep them at your sides. You groaned. You would have never been fast enough to grab your knife. Your whole body felt like jello and just the simple movement of tugging you upright made you feel like you had to vomit.

A booted foot kicked open the employee door and you cracked open your eyes to see a familiar head of indigo hair. A mixture of relief and concern went through you when you saw Shinsou’s face, eyes hungrily tracing his pretty features. He had his eyes closed, and that mask covered the lower half of his face again.

“Don’t say anything,” the villain behind you commanded, and a blade flashed up to your throat. You tensed, not having felt him go for your trimming blade. But, you noted as the knife pressed firmly to the delicate skin of your neck, it felt much smaller, much less clumsy than a gardening tool. This was a different knife.

“We finally meet, Shinsou,” the villain behind you sneered. “I’d heard you’d been working my case. I have to say, it’s a brilliant idea, having the Commission wipe all your records and keep you an unknown. Just perfect for a quirk like yours. But as you well know, nothing can be hidden from quirks like ours. You can pry anything out of anyone’s brain with just a question and I...well, I can torture it out of them.”

Your brain churned with this new information. So Shinsou did have a mind control quirk, as suspected. But it wasn’t triggered visually, as this villain’s quirk was. And this villain had a quirk far, far different from what you had suspected all this time. He was able to torture people, to impose pain and visions on them that drove them to the edge of sanity and sometimes beyond. It explained why people had either blacked out or killed themselves. You might have done so if you hadn’t been able to throw it off...

You thought back to the two girls who had taken their own lives at the casino. Their friend had described them as strong, and you wondered they had thrown it off at first too, if it had anything to do with the way the villain had called you stubborn, had told you that this time, what he did to you would hurt so badly that you would kill yourself to escape it.

You didn’t have time to speculate on anything else, however, as he spoke over your shoulder again. “Now open your eyes, please, or I’ll kill the girl.”

Shinsou went still in front of you. Your stomach dropped.

“Don’t do it,” you said, and the knife bit into your throat harder. The villain huffed an annoyed breath into the back of your neck.

“You have three seconds before I cut her throat,” he said impatiently.

Shinsou’s eyes shot open and your heart sank. You just managed to catch a flash of familiar violet before he was curling in on himself, gasping, and collapsing to the floor as you had. You felt the villain’s mouth curl into a smirk, and then he was turning you in his arms to look up at his face too.

You shut your eyes again, and the knife slid gently over your skin.

“Open your eyes, darling, or I’ll do it myself,” he said. You could hear how annoyed he was at your resistance. “I do so hate to get my hands dirty, but I will.”

Your hands trembled. If you could just get to your knife…

He didn’t leave you a choice, one hand prying an eyelid open. As soon as he did, your world ignited in flames again, and you dropped from his arms onto the floor, landing painfully on your shoulder.

It hurt worse this time, everything a thousand times worse, and you didn’t know how it was possible to be in this much pain. The entire outside of your body felt like it was on fire and flame danced in your vision, it was only a matter of time until the flame ate away at your skin and entered your body, burned you from the inside out, and you had to stop it, had to find some way to end it so you didn’t have to suffer--

A gentle brush tugged at the back of your mind.

You writhed. Your skin felt like it was on fire but the flames hadn’t yet eaten through your flesh, so what was moving in the recesses of your brain? Had he started a fire in your skull too?

There was a tug again, deep in your mind, a strange movement like you were on the verge of remembering something. No, this wasn’t fire--

You had just enough capacity left in your brain to realize this was familiar. This was something you had felt before. It was associated with someone...a hot mouth...the color purple...long fingered hands extending a white cup…

Shinsou.

This was Shinsou. He was using his quirk.

You could barely scrape together enough thought to focus on this. Shinsou...what had the villain said about Shinsou? “You can pry anything out of anyone’s brain with just a question,” he’d said. If Shinsou was asking a question, why wasn’t it working then? Why could you feel him but why was nothing else happening? Was he just trying to let you know he was here with you at the end?

A memory flitted through the haze of pain. “Energy can still be emitted and directed. You need only meet the proper conditions for it to be fully utilized,” Shinsou had said of mental quirks, when you had been going through case files all those weeks ago. Mental quirk users were like vampires, you’d thought then. They needed to be invited in.

Shinsou was asking to be invited in.

“Please,” you gasped out through a raw throat, “I trust you.”

There was a small tension at the back of your mind like a dendron snapping into place, before the fire in front of you flickered out and the flames licking at your skin cooled and guttered. You exhaled against the cool tile of the floor, fighting down a feeling of nausea. You could see your fingers shaking where they had gritted into claws against the tile.

You looked up for Shinsou but found him in the same state as before, writhing wildly on the floor. It was clear he was still in the thrall of the villain’s quirk, but he was rasping something like he was trying to ask you a question.

“--think you can move?” he gasped.

Could he hear you?

“No,” you said, pushing the thought as hard as you could against that small part of your mind where you could still feel him. “I need you to help.”

He didn’t respond and you wondered for a long time if he hadn’t heard you, if nothing you said or did could cut through that haze of pain.

Then, “Catch him,” he commanded.

You rose like a puppet on a string. Every neuron in your body screamed against it but still you rose, clambering to your feet and pulling the trimming knife out of your belt. You moved quietly to the employee door, peering out beyond. The mind villain’s back was to you, but you could see his shoulder moving, struggling to slice through knots in Shinsou’s binding cloth where it was looped around the two other villains. Both were unconscious.

Slowly, you eased the door open and crept out. You moved cautiously through the store, hardly making a single sound. And then you were in range.

Your knife plunged down into his arm and he screamed, whirling on you. You weren’t fast enough to close your eyes but nothing happened, and he blinked in confusion. Bewilderment swelled within you as well--could he not influence your mind if Shinsou was already controlling it? You didn't pause to wonder, instead using the moment to your opportunity, kicking his legs out from under him and leaping on top of him, pulling your knife out and plunging it back into the meat of his arm again.

He screamed and you grabbed the end of Shinsou’s binding cloth, looping it over his good hand and pulling firm. At once, it seemed like the fabric activated, hardening into something like a carbon fiber that the villain couldn’t break free from. As he struggled you looped more of the cloth around the arm you’d stabbed and pulled that tight too.

Then you pulled off your jacket and dumped it over his head, tying off the ends of your sleeves to create a makeshift blindfold. Not your best work but it would have to do.

Then you ran to the door of the shop and kicked it open, yelling out into the street. “I’ve got him! We’ve got all three of them!”

At once there was a crush of officers filtering through the door, taking in the mess of glass and bodies. Only then did you feel Shinsou’s quirk release and you slumped to the floor, boneless. Aya stopped when she saw you, rushing over to stoop at your side.

“Are you okay?” she asked, and you nodded.

“I’m not hurt. Just--that villain, he got me with his quirk. I just need a second.”

She nodded but continued to hover over you.

“Can you get quirk restraints on him, please? Everyone is still under the influence of his quirk.”

This got her attention and she moved away from you, striding over to the group of officers surrounding the villain. She pulled restraints from her belt and quickly buckled them over his wrists. In the corner of your eye, you could see several victims still, slumping out of their rigid poses and their tremors tapering off.

A minute later, the door to the back room poked open and you saw a riot of purple hair emerge. You were back on your feet before you knew what you were doing.

The next thing you realized, you had crossed the room, seized a fistful of his jumpsuit, and pulled Shinsou down into a kiss. He stiffened for a moment, surprised, but then he was enthusiastically returning the favor, warm hands settling on your waist. A swirling wave of so many emotions washed through you--embarrassment, guilt, relief--and you pressed yourself against him harder.

“I’m so fucking sorry,” you said when you finally managed to pull yourself away from him, staring up into those violet eyes. “I’m sorry I didn’t trust you.”

He looked down at you carefully. “You thought I was the villain.”

It wasn’t a question.

You nodded, stomach twisting. “You wouldn’t tell me why you were here, and then I thought--when you caught the magnet villain--I thought you caught him because he looked at you. I didn’t realize, you threw your voice, didn’t you? That’s why I thought I heard the captain. Is that what the mask is for?”

Shinsou nodded slowly. “So you thought the quirks lined up.”

“Yes,” you cringed, all your anxiety and confusion feeling like it was bubbling up to the surface. “But you were just--you were being so shady. You wouldn’t tell me anything and you seemed to know too much about his quirk, and then you were flirting with me, and it just didn’t make sense, and--”

A long fingered hand pressed to your mouth, and an indigo eyebrow went up. “You thought I was the villain because I was flirting with you?”

A flush spread across your cheeks. “Well, I mean. I thought--it was part of it.”

He had the gall to look amused. “But not because of my quirk?”

You stared at him. “No? I mean, yes, when I thought it lined up with the villain’s quirk, which, turns out we got that one super wrong. But you didn’t tell me anything! Why the hell wouldn’t you just tell me about your fucking quirk in the first place? Why the hell did you have to hide everything?”

Your voice raised into a shrill point at the end, and you saw several policemen around you wince. You flushed again.

Shinsou smirked down at you. “It’s against Commission policy for me to share details of my quirk. I am an underground hero and my success depends on people not knowing the details of my power.”

Okay, that made some sense, but still. “I’m your partner. Why the hell would you have to hide that from me?”

He shifted and you realized that one of his hands was still gripping your waist, hot through the fabric of your shirt. “We were tracking down someone whose powers were suspected to closely parallel mine. What would I do if he was able to brainwash any of you and ask you the details of my quirk?”

Oh.

Oh, that made sense.

For some reason that only frustrated you more. “Okay, well yes--but he found out anyway! They knew not to answer you!”

“Which you and I will be looking into next, now that they’re caught,” Shinsou said lightly.

The promise of a new case tickled your interest. "You and I," he’d said, though. He really wanted you helping, after what you’d just told him?

“You and I?” you asked, and he smiled. It looked obscenely pretty on him, now that you had occasion to notice, and without the threat of his villainy hanging over your head, it hit you like a ton of bricks.

“Well, after you’ve had a chance to relax, kitten,” he said, his tone dipping low. “You did promise me that you would when you solved this case. And I promised you that I would hold you to that.”

Sudden heat pooled in your abdomen, chasing out the guilt and leaving no room for anything else.

“Uh,” you said dumbly, staring up at those violet eyes. They were bright again, and this time you realized you were finally about to be let in on the secret that always seemed to hide behind them. “Yeah you’d better do that. Like, right now.”

His smile widened. “Better wrap things up quick here, then.”

He hadn’t used his power on you, but he might as well have. In a fraction of a second, you’d turned on your heel and scrambled over to Aya where she was conversing in quiet tones with a few other detectives.

“Uh, I need you to take over the wrap up,” you said, trying to sound normal. “I think I need some rest and recovery after everything that just happened.”

Her dark eyes flicked knowingly over you. “Sure. Rest and recovery, huh?”

You would have told her to shut up if the other officers hadn’t been watching. “Yes,” you hissed instead, hating the way her smirk deepened her dimples. “Recovery.”

“Well I wish you a very thorough recovery,” she said, visibly fighting down a laugh as she waved you off.

It was only the pull of Shinsou’s presence behind you that kept you from starting something with her.

“I’ll take her home, make sure she’s okay,” Shinsou said, grasping your arm and pulling you away from your coworkers before you could get another word out.

He pulled you through the rubble and glass into the afternoon sun. He seemed to have a particular destination in mind, leading you down a series of winding city blocks. You followed him sedately, content with his hand on your wrist, his warmth at your side. It was frankly concerning how compelling his mere presence was, and without any other concerns looming over you, you felt like you might lose yourself in it.

You thought back to that first day, the way his presence had washed over you, layered with subtle command. You honestly should have known from the second you stepped through the door.

“Does it bother you?” you asked after he led you into what looked like an apartment building, pulling you up the stairs to the third floor. He paused where he had started to unlock a door to look at you in question. “That I thought you were the villain? I know that mind quirk users, you--uh--you don’t have it easy.”

He considered this. “It is considered a very villainous quirk.”

This bothered you. “I want you to try something.”

An eyebrow went up. “We are trying something.”

You flushed. “Not--that. Well, that, but first I want you to use your power on me and ask me something.”

He pushed the door open and pulled you inside. You caught a vague glimpse of a fairly comfortable looking apartment, but you couldn’t pull your attention far enough away from him to inspect it in any depth.

“Why would I do that?” he asked.

“Because I want you to know I’m telling the truth,” you said firmly.

He gestured you over to his couch, something dark and plush and soft, and you sank into it easily.

“I want you to ask me if I trust you,” you said, still watching him carefully.

A small smile tugged at his mouth, and he came to crouch down in front of you, taking your hands in his. “I think I get the idea, kitten.”

“No,” you said, frustrated. You wanted him to hear this. This little shit was going to do what you told him to, at least once. “And that wasn’t a request, either. That was an order, contractor.”

A spark lit up in his gaze and he leaned forward, smile going dark. “You know what you’re asking for, kitten?”

“I do,” you replied, and that was the last thing you managed before you felt him take control. There was that gentle feeling of something sliding into place, and you felt the tension leave your body. Shinsou’s hands tightened around yours.

“Then tell me honestly, kitten,” Shinsou said, watching you very intently. “Do you trust me?”

“Yes,” you said instantly. You’d known this was the case, after everything, but a wave of relief washed through you to hear it said so plainly, without room for any more doubt. Shinsou looked similarly pleased to hear it, and you knew you’d done the right thing to ask him for this.

Then his look shifted into something mischievous and you panicked.

“And tell me something else, kitten. What do you think of me?”

The words were out of your mouth before you could stop them. “You’re the prettiest person I have ever seen and you drive me crazy and your hair is so fucking messy and your fingers are so long and I wanted you to fuck me the second you sassed me at my desk and I’m so happy you’re not the villain because it was honestly driving me insane being so attracted to you.”

You burned with embarrassment, and would have blushed if you could have done anything without his leave.

He laughed, looking very interested, and one of those long fingers traced over your open palm. “Cute, kitten. And be honest with me just one more time. Would you be opposed if I fucked you like this? Under my control, made you forget everything else but me?”

“Please,” you heard yourself say, and then his mouth was on yours for the third time today.

“Kiss me,” he ordered as his lips touched yours, and you complied enthusiastically, his quirk not the only thing making you obey. The heat of the kiss scorched all the thoughts straight out of your brain.

“You’ll tell me if I’m doing anything you don’t want,” he said when he let you go to kiss down your neck, and you felt the order sink under your skin like a stone in a pond. You wondered for a brief, mortifying second if there was anything he could do to you that you didn’t want. “Now stay still, kitten, unless you want to stop me.”

His hands made quick work of your shirt and pants before he spread you out gently on his couch, and he quickly covered you with his own body, narrow hips settling in between yours. He kissed you again, taking his time, until you thought you might go crazy if he didn’t do something, if he didn’t deliver on the promise that the heat of his body was making in between your thighs. You could feel him smirk through the kiss as if he knew what you were thinking. You tried moving, so wildly furious with him, but couldn’t, pinned in place by your own desire. "Stay still unless you want to stop me," he’d said. You wanted anything but that.

Right when you thought you might literally die if he didn’t touch you, he shifted, kissing a path lower and lower down your chest until he reached your panties, and he played with the edge of them with one long finger.

“Do you want me to kiss you here too, kitten?” he asked.

“Yes,” you gasped before he could even finish the question, feeling like you could combust from the vicious mixture of embarrassment and arousal bursting within you.

A gleam in his violet eyes was all the warning you had before he peeled your underwear down and sealed his mouth over you. You would have bucked violently if you could have--instead, you were helpless to do anything but let out a shivery moan. Calloused fingers came up to dip inside you as he worked your clit mercilessly, and you nearly sobbed with the feeling.

“Look at me,” he commanded, unlatching his mouth from you. A finger swirled over your clit as the others plunged inside you. “Mmm, gorgeous, kitten. You feel so incredible, you’re going to take me so well, aren’t you?”

“Yes,” you huffed again.

He smiled. “Knew that you would. Now I want to try one more thing before I give you what you want, kitten. Do you want to see what else my quirk can do?”

“Yes, Hitoshi, please,” you practically begged.

You were helpless to do anything, then, but watch as he pulled his fingers from you, and his smile turned predatory. “Cum for me.”

Instantly, everything inside you seized up, and you were climaxing with no build up, thrown over the edge with no warning. Shinsou watched with unabashed interest, those purple eyes pinning you in place with just as much force as his quirk.

“The hardest you ever have,” he added and you sobbed, screaming out something that might have been his name or might have been nothing like a word at all. Heat and pleasure swept through you in a white wave, and you thought you might faint from the overwhelming force of it. Hitoshi made it worse by sealing his mouth back over you and sucking delicately. You orgasmed for what felt like hours but must have been much shorter before you felt him finally release you. You slumped into the softness of his couch, Hitoshi still working you carefully with his mouth and tongue.

“Was that okay, kitten?” he finally asked when you’d gone completely boneless beneath him.

“Oh my god, yes,” you slurred. “I can’t believe you exist. That was incredible.”

Smug satisfaction painted his pretty features, and you couldn’t even bring yourself to feel annoyed with him.

“I did promise,” he said, crawling back over you to slip back in between your thighs. You could feel him hard against your core beneath his pants, and, incredibly, heat settled behind your abdomen again.

“Now let’s see just how relaxed we can get you, kitten,” he said, pressing his mouth back to yours. Your arms wrapped around him, pulling him harder into you.

And that was the last time either of you managed a coherent word until morning.

#shinsou hitoshi x reader #shinsou x reader #bnha #fanfic #boku no hero academia #bnha x reader #tw: suicide mention #shinsou hitoshi #tw: consensual mind control #smut

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me-and-your-husband · 4 years

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Need Someone

Summary: Reader gets into some trouble, and doesn’t know who else to call besides her best friend’s dad, District Attorney Andy Barber.

Warnings: age gap, mentions of kidnapping and sexual assault.

Pairing: Andy Barber x Reader

Word Count: 1.7k

Note: Lets say reader is 18 and in senior year.

There’s nothing in this chapter, but the next part will definitely have some of that in it ;)

Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I stepped out of my door, swinging it shut behind me. The chilly fall mornings where you could see your breath in front of you and just one layer wasn’t enough to keep you warm came quick.

Checking the time on my watch, I realized that I was already running ten minutes late to pick Jacob up. Being best friends with somebody who doesn’t have their own car has it’s downs and...well, it has it’s downs. I don’t mind picking Jake up on my way to school or dropping him off; we’ve been best friends for almost eleven years. I spent more time at his house than I did mine. The Barbers were like an extension of my family, I could always count on them.

I turned the radio down slightly as I pulled up in front of the Barber’s house. It shocked me a little when I didn’t find Jacob on the stoop shaking his fist at me for being late. I ignored it and just scrolled through Instagram while I was waiting.

First it was two minutes, then five, ten, and then nearing fifteen when I finally got my ass out of my car to knock on his door. Ready to give him a good old lecture on how he is not only wasting his time, but my time too, The door swings open and I’m met with the familiar face of his father.

Andy was a very respectable man. He was great at his job, well accomplished, polite, had a great family, and essentially had the American dream, built up from a life of nothing. Despite this, the man was also fucking beautiful, to say the least. His neatly-trimmed beard had always been adorned on his face as long as I’d known him, his deep blue eyes paired with that boyish grin felt like getting whiplash whenever it made an appearance. It annoyed me to the ends of the earth that this man was not only happily married, but also my best friend’s father. Therefore, I try my hardest to push those aches aside and focus on maintaining a healthy relationship with Mr. Barber.

But that’s hard to do when he brings me in for a hug, like right now, and my face naturally buries into his broad shoulder, where I can smell his woodsy cologne that makes me feel things. Or when he pulls away, and fixes the tie that he wears to work everyday, and my eyes can’t help but travel to his hands around his neck, and wonder what they’d be like around mine-

No. That’s weird, stop thinking about that. He asks me about school and the usual, comfortable small talk, until Jacob comes barreling down the stairs waving an Advanced Trigonometry text book in the air.

“Found it!” he yells, frantically attempting to get his shoes on while eating a piece of toast. What a mess. I chuckle.

“Jake, you’ve got to be more organized. Your room looks like a sweat-shop,” Andy said in an accusing tone, walking away, forcing me to look at how good his ass looked in those slacks.

“It would concern me that you know what a sweat-shop looks like, Dad, but I don’t doubt it at this point,” Jacob states, simultaneously stuffing his mouth with peanut butter toast. “By the way, my room does not look like a sweat-shop. Y/N can vouch for that,” Jacob says, finishing off his toast, and both the Barber Boys look at me. Andy crosses his arms, his biceps tightens around his shirt, and his eyebrow raises in a playful “oh really?” sort of way.

An awkward laugh escapes my lips, and I change the subject as fast as I can. “Okay, Jake, let’s get out of here. Bye, Mr. Barber! See you after school, if we come back here to study. Tell Mrs. Barber I said hi,” I said, stumbling out the front door, not waiting for a reply. I walk to my car, and with Jacob far enough behind me to be able to hear me, I mutter to myself two words. “Fuck me.”

Sitting at the Barbers’ kitchen table, I stuffed my textbook into my backpack. It had been a long night of studying with Jacob, and it was getting late. It didn’t even hit me until halfway through the study session that I’d have to walk home, remembering I dropped my car off at my house after school. It was only a twenty-minute walk, but in the dark was worse. I shrugged it off and tried to hide my diminished will to leave behind a yawn.

Normally, Mr. Barber would be here to offer me a ride home, and insist, because, “I’ve seen how dangerous the world is, Y/N. Especially for women,”. Jacob walked me to the door, as I slid my shoes on my feet. I stepped onto the porch, and his figure leaned against the door frame. He shoved his hands in his pockets,

“See you in the morning, Jake,” I said, giving him a cursory wave and turning on my heel. I reached into my jacket pocket and felt around for my earbuds, shoving them in and pressing play on my Spotify playlist. Through the music, I could hear a faint “See ya,”, and a door being closed.

Walking through the streets of Newton in the dark wasn’t particularly something one looks forward to. This is when all the druggies come out to buy their next fix, and the psychopaths and stalkers victimize the innocent. I roll my eyes at myself, thinking. “Oh my God, you’ll be fine. Stop worrying about nothing,”.

With one earbud in my ear, I’m walking down a main road, taking cursory glances to the huge SALE signs outside of shop windows. The calm eleven o’clock traffic passes me, probably without a second thought to my character. Reaching the end of the busy street, I take a right to one of the residential avenues leading to my neighbourhood. The streetlights cast an orange glow on the sidewalk, crickets chirp in this area and keep the night alive. On the fence of one of the houses, a black cat is seen during it’s night’s rest. I exhale sharply through my nose out of amusement; a black cat, probably the oldest Old Wives Tale. Those things are overrated, anyways.

I’m just about at the end of the street and entering my neighbourhood when I hear a door slam to my right. Taking out my earbud with a manner as to not make a noise, I frantically spin around, looking for the sound. Only a few house lights are left on, but most are porch lights. Heavy footsteps stalk towards me; and I take off in the direction I was headed in. But the only problem, a man already stands in my path. My stomach drops. A big man, about 6′4 and beefy, mostly bald with tattoos adorning his arms and neck. My flight, fright or freeze instincts kick in, and I bolt in the other direction.

At least if I can get back to Jacob’s house, I’ll be alright. I run, but I’m no track star. I drop my bag, in hopes to speed up, and reach into my jacket pocket and yank my phone out, while simultaneously taking short glances behind me every few seconds to see if the man has stopped running after me yet. He hasn’t. I’m starting to sweat and my heart’s racing, my breath hitching in my throat. For a short second, I wonder who to call. What a great time for my parent’s to be on a business trip. I dial Jacob, straight to voicemail. I try again, voicemail. I let out a shriek when I feel the man’s hand swipe across my back, almost grabbing me. I’m met with a crossing, and don’t even think before running across the street.

I hear an innuendo screeching noise, and freeze as I’m caught in the headlights of the car that came to a dead stop. I continue my sprint, the man basically on my heels. Just my luck, I didn’t tie my shoelaces up when I slipped my shoe’s on at Jacob’s. I trip over my own feet, sending me flying forward into the pavement. I hear an amused grunt, and am yanked up by the hair. I let out a yelp, which was hard to get out. My eyes traveled down, to see that the man’s other hand was on my throat. I reached up to claw it off, but the lack of airflow was making everything fuzzy. Things got blurrier and darker, until it just stopped.

My head throbs as my eyes flutter open. I immediately groan as I move my hands to rub my temples. When my hands don’t move, I feel the thick ropes bounding them to the headboard. I’m on a bed, in a strange room, with my hands tied. The screams for help die in my throat, as I can’t speak. I try to loll my head to the side to take in more of my surroundings, but all I can see is the scary-looking syringe laid on the bedside table. I try to kick my legs, but they won’t budge.

Hot tears stream down my face as I realize I can’t do anything about my current predicament. I don’t know how long has passed when I start getting a little movement in my feet and face. Even longer passes and I can move my whole body, just not adequately. This strength is spent trying to get out of the ties, which just rubs against my wrists and makes it hurt more.

After a while of struggling against the ropes, I hear the hinges of a squeaky door swing open. A low rumble of a laugh bounces off of the walls and makes my stomach drop lower. I halt all movement, and don’t dare to make a noise.

The man appears at the foot of the bed, and slowly hovers above me.

“We’re gonna have some fun, little one. Will you be good? If you’re good, I’ll take the ropes off,” he says in a menacing tone, to which I frantically nod my head.

“Okay, good little one,” Playing it cooperative is the best way to play it until I can find some way to get out of this. I hope I can before he does anything.

#andy barber #defending jacob #andy barber x reader

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dizzydancingdreamer · 4 years

Text

Come Over | Elijah Mikaelson

Hey Lovelies! This is my first post on this profile! If you're curious feel free to pop over to my other handle: @sweetpeasgirl where i write for riverdale! However this blog is for all fandoms! It's all very exciting and I am happy to take on a new project. Anyway this is my first time writing for Elijah/TVD/TO so I hope its good! Also my first smut oh no oh god. Lemme know what you think!

Description: Based on the song "Come Over" by Sam Hunt. Y/n finds out Elijah Mikaelson is a vampire in the worst way possible. She freaks out and runs. Elijah follows after. It comes to a crossroads at her apartment.

Pairing: Elijah Mikaelson x Fem!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ ONLY FIC!!! NSFW, Smut (oral female receiving), 18+ (I feel obligated to say it ;) )

Word count: 3413

Tags: fluff, some angst, SMUT

(Photos not mine but mood board is :) )

I turn the TV off, to turn it on again

Staring at the blades of the fan as it spins around

The clock on your nightstand reads 11:34. The remote control is heavy in your hand. Nothing on the TV is interesting to you even slightly right now. Your room is sweltering and dark. Your bed is a mess, the comforter crinkled and shoved to the foot. Messy beds are always more uncomfortable. Any day but today you would care.

You glance down at your phone, not surprised in the slightest to see another missed call. That makes 22. Almost a new record. Two more and he’ll start a new one. That’s just his type. Persistent. It’s why you fell in love with him. He didn’t give up. You sigh and block the call, placing the phone face down on the nightstand. Your whole body feels hot.

Clicking again on the remote, you come across a reality show. It's trashy, the accents are harsh, it screams “daddy’s money”. It’s perfect. Maybe it’ll be enough to take your mind off of the events of this evening. Off of him. The girl on the show runs into the arms of a handsome man. You turn the TV off almost as fast as you had turned it on.

You had been picturing tonight in your head for a week. The Mikaelson Ball. Dining and dancing and elegance. Nothing your usual life regularly allowed. It was supposed to be special. The invitation alone was magnificent enough to make you swoon. The dress had almost made you faint. The necklace did. It was all perfect. He was perfect. And then it wasn’t.

Your phone buzzes again on the nightstand. You forgot to turn it off. Or maybe you left it on purpose. Your head feels fuzzy, though, and you don’t want to think about it. You wish his face would get out of your mind. Your eyes drift to the fan above you and you try to count the blades as they go around and around. You lose track easily, and you don’t care. It doesn’t do anything to soothe your molten skin.

Counting every crack, the clock is wide awake

Talking to myself, anything to make a sound

You pick the phone up once more, ready to scream at it. Every part of you feels like it's on fire and seeing his name on the screen pushes you over the edge. You don’t know what you did to get tangled in all of this but you’re ready to claw your throat out. Instead, you throw the phone as hard as you can against the pile of comforters. It stops buzzing but your skin is still sticky. You feel sick to your stomach.

“Why did you pick me, why couldn’t it have been someone else,” your tone is harsh but it’s not like he can hear you, “it hurts Eli. Make it stop. Please!”

Your voice is barely a whisper and it turns to cries quickly as the anger dies out. All you can see, swirling around the depths of your mind, are his fangs. The way his brown eyes died to a blackness. The stark veins against his sculpted cheeks. He had looked every bit as beautiful as ever. Still elegant, still handsome. Still Elijah. But dark. Dangerous. That’s what scared you. Elijah was still Elijah when he was ripping a heart from a chest.

It felt like a blur when you saw it. One minute he had his hand on the small of your back. You had been taking a stroll in the garden. It was like nothing you had ever seen before. Beautiful hedge walls and roses of all different colours and a magnolia tree like you had only ever imagined. The moon wasn’t quite full over your heads. He was finally about to kiss you, something you had been silently pleading for for months now. Before his lips could touch yours, though, there was a hand around your throat. It had squeezed to the point of you almost passing out before Elijah had time to rip you away from your attacker. You didn’t see him move, you just saw his hand break through the mans sternum and rip his beating heart out of his chest. As soon as you saw his face, his eyes, you bolted.

“I’m scared, Eli. I miss you. I’m scared that I miss you and a thousand other things. I need you.”

You look at the dress hanging on the back of your door. At one point it was a delicate, pale pink number. It had off the shoulder straps that, really, had no point but were beautiful. There was satin cream ribbon to lace up the back and the sweetest of sweetheart necklines. Now it was splattered in blood, the satin ribbons stained. One of the sleeves had ripped when you ran. It was the most beautiful thing you had ever owned and it was ruined in less than an hour. Fairytales were supposed to end at midnight, not nine o'clock.

“I wish you would come over.” You mean it.

You just want him to explain. To show up and sweep you off your feet and tell you that he won’t hurt you. You shouldn't even need the reassurance. You know him. That's your Elijah. Somewhere deep down you know that. But it's not making you any less afraid right now. He had been protecting you, but no one has ever ripped out a heart for you before. You’re allowed to be afraid of new things. You’re allowed to be afraid of things that are frightening. That’s what being human is. You still feel like a traitor, though, when you feel afraid of Elijah.

Your voice is silent in the darkness, “I wish you could hear me. Come over, Elijah.”

Your phone beeped. You pick it up in time to read the screen. Call ended.

I told you I wouldn't call, I told you I wouldn't care

But baby climbing the walls gets me nowhere

Call ended. Call ended 12:43. Twelve minutes and forty-three seconds. Elijah had been on the phone with you for almost thirteen minutes. Crap.

You think about how far away the Mikaelson mansion is from your apartment. Twenty minutes tops, and that’s your driving. Elijah’s driving? Ten, if you’re lucky. You could try to reason with yourself. Maybe he hadn't heard you. Maybe he doesn't want to see you. Maybe he hung up because he got tired of hearing you whine. You can’t help the dry laugh that falls from your lips. It’s Elijah. You probably only have five minutes now.

You jump to your feet and begin making your bed, your pulse thumping loud once more in your ears. He’s been in your apartment before, but that was when he was just Elijah. Not the Elijah with fangs and black eyes. Now he’s different. Mysterious. Who knows what he’s seen. What he’s done. You never thought your apparent was shabby by any means but would he? You know your life can’t compare to the wonders he’s most definitely seen.

You move to the kitchen, which is, by default, the living room as well, and begin picking up mugs and newspapers and anything else out of order that you can see. You sneak a quick glance out your kitchen window, into the parking lot below, just in time to see a sleek black car speed into one of the only available spots left. You can hear the engine purr from your fourth floor apartment. You know exactly whose car that is and thus aren't surprised when Elijah Mikaelson steps out from the drivers side and slams the door shut, not even bothering to lock the door. You gasp at the bang the metal makes and his head whips up, his eyes locking with yours from the ground.

You close your eyes for just a second. There's no way he could have heard that. When you look back to the ground, he’s gone. Before you can sigh there's a knock at the door.

I don’t think that I can take this bed getting any colder

Come over, come over, come over, come over, come over

You move to the door but you don’t open it. You place your palm on the wood trim and try to picture the man on the other side. He’ll look like Elijah. He’ll smell like Elijah and probably talk like Elijah, too. But is he still the same Elijah?

“Y/n, I know you’re there, open the door. Please?” His voice sounds the same, his accent penetrating the barrier between you and tickling your ears.

“Elijah,” your voice is but a whisper and you know you should be the only one who can hear it, “I’m scared.”

“I know, love, that’s ok. I won’t hurt you, though, and I need you to open the door. I just- I need to see you,” his voice cracks, just barely but it’s there.

That’s all it takes for you to slide the lock and open the door. In front of you, for the second time tonight, is a man you don’t recognize. He doesn’t have fangs and his eyes are his usual deep brown but they look shattered. His hair, usually styled to perfection, is a mess, like he had been running his hands through it for the past few hours. His suit jacket is gone, leaving him in slacks and the dress shirt he had been wearing at the ball, only now it’s untucked and the sleeves are rolled haphazardly up his arms. Elijah Mikaleson looks disheveled and you’re terrified again because this Elijah, hurt and upset, looks further from himself than the Elijah from the garden.

“Eli-”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n. God, I’m so fucking sorry,” his voice shakes as he stands in your doorway, “please let me explain, baby.”

You swallow at his words. Baby. That's new.

“Eli, you know you can come in whenever you want,” your eyes look to the ground, feigning interest in the knots of your hardwood floor.

“I want to hear you say it,” you can feel his eyes burning into your lowered head, “I need to hear that you want me to come in, Y/n.”

This time it’s your voice that breaks, “of course I want you to come in Elijah.”

He sighs and steps over the threshold, standing mere feet away from you. You feel so small next to him in nothing but a pair of plaid sleep shorts and plain tank top. Your bare feet, for the first time since getting home, are cool against the floor.

He reaches to touch you and you flinch away, “baby, god, no. Please don’t be afraid.”

Your chest aches at the scared look in his eyes and all you want to do is run into his arms but you need answers.

“What happened back there, Elijah?” You feel pathetic at how quiet your voice still is.

“He wanted to hurt me, torture me. And he knew he couldn't. So he went for you, because he knew I would retaliate,” his eyes land on yours and you can see that he still wants to rip that man limb from limb, “he was a werewolf, Y/n. He wanted you dead, I had to do it.”

He sinks to his knees, his voice dropping lower and lower until the last words are just whispers. His words ring in your ears again. Werewolf. A werewolf wanted you dead. You felt faint.

“Why was a,” you say the word carefully, “werewolf trying to hurt you?”

“Because I'm a vampire, Y/n,” his voice breaks fully this time.

You don’t know what to do. Not with the rapid beating of your heart nor the new information you’ve just acquired and especially not with the crying Mikaelson on his knees in your hallway. Your Elijah, the man who pulls your chair out at restaurants and opens your doors and always has a hand on you when you’re around his brothers, is a vampire. You’re not even sure what that means, there are so many questions running through your mind. You want to ask each and every one of them but, seeing the man in front of you, somehow now doesn’t feel like the right time.

Your heart flutters looking at Elijah. His hands are in his hair again, pulling desperately on the strands. Your heart falls into a thousand tiny pieces at the sight. How can you be afraid of someone being so openly vulnerable to you. No man has ever gotten on his knees for you. No one has ever begged on their knees for you. It’s breathtaking, all you need to push yourself into him and wrap your arms around his neck.

“You should be terrified of me y/n,” he chokes into your chest, “I’m not good for you. I'm a monster, baby.”

His words shred at your heart. You run your fingers through his hair, smoothing the soft locks beneath your fingers.

“No you’re not. You're still my Elijah.”

His head lifts from your chest and he captures your eyes with his serious ones. He looks awestruck.

“Your Elijah?” His accent is even thicker with all the emotion.

You smile for the first time in many hours, “of course, Eli.”

He sweeps you up and into his arms so quickly you get dizzy. Before you know what’s happened, he has you sat on your kitchen island and he’s standing between your legs. Your arms are still clinging tight to his neck while his hands hang dangerously low on your hips.

“And you’re mine, Y/n.”

His words makes your body sing, “All yours.”

He closes his eyes, his hands tightening deliciously on your hips, “say it again. Please, baby.”

“I’m yours Elijah. I’ve always been yours.”

His lips crash hungrily onto yours. He wraps his arms around your lower back and you tangle your legs around his waist to avoid falling off the countertop. He kisses you like you’ve never been kissed before, pulling your bottom lip between his teeth and biting down harshly before soothing the sting with his tongue. You're enamoured with this side of Elijah. You’ve seen his gentleman side, it was magnificent, but this side of him? It was everything you didn't know you needed.

He pulls back, only putting a fraction of space between your bodies but it feels like too much, “please don’t run from me again.”

Your lips brush his when you speak, “Never, Eli.”

He pulls your mouth back to his, a hand tangled in your hair tugging gently at the roots. You can’t but moan against his lips and squeeze your legs around his waist. You grab blindly at his shirt, trying desperately to undo the buttons. Your fingers fumble and he chuckles into your mouth. He releases you to pull his shirt off, dropping it mindlessly on the floor, his lips never leaving yours.

His chest is sculpted like the finest marble and you can’t resist running your hands over his skin. He feels strong under your fingertips. He lets out a groan as you slide them back to his shoulders to the nape of his neck. His lips move over your jaw, down your neck, kissing and sucking a trail to your throat.

His hands grip the edge of your tank top bunching the material in his fists, “may I?”

Always the gentleman.

You nod your head before the words can leave your mouth, “please.”

He smirks, his eyes shining, as he begins pulling the tank top tantalizingly slow up your chest. You raise your arms over your head with his movements, lowering them back to his torso when he drops your shirt with his. His chocolate eyes meet yours again, seeking permission. You can’t fight the small smile as you nod. His smile that greets yours is breathtaking.

His eyes flick down, taking in your bare chest like a child in a candy store. He pulls his bottom lip between his teeth, much like he did to yours only moments ago. His hands slide up the curve of your waist, trailing a new kind of fire wherever he touches. His thumbs graze the sides of your breasts and you just barely stop the moan, closing your eyes to regain the little control you have left.

“I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again, you’re stunning Y/n. Absolutely beautiful.”

Before you can process it, his mouth is around your breast, pulling your nipple into his mouth and sucking gently. It sends a spark of electricity to the deepest part of your stomach, building an ache that you’ve felt before but stronger. Blinding. It’s white hot. You don’t try to stop the moans, you don’t want to. His tongue swirls around your breast, teasingly slow, making you feel every little movement. It’s dangerously addictive.

“Elijah,” you breath his name like oxygen.

His lips let you go, moving down your chest, trailing kisses down your abdomen, pulling praises from your lips as he goes. His eyes find yours when he sinks to his knees for the second time tonight. His hands grasp your shorts, covering your hips easily. You’re a wanton mess in front of him, practically fully undone from the simplest of touches.

“What do you want me to do, baby, you have to tell me what you want.” It's good to know he’s breathless too.

“Eli, I-” you moan as he presses a kiss to your inner thigh, sucking gently at the skin, his eyes still locked on yours, “I want you.”

He pulls his lips back, “you want me to do what, baby?”

You groan at the devilish smirk on his handsome face, “I want you to kiss me!”

“As you wish.”

He pulls your shorts off first, slowly dragging them down your legs, kissing all the way down and back up again. When you're left in nothing but your panties he presses the first kiss to you. It’s hot and sends shocks throughout your entire body.

“More, now. Please, Elijah.”

He chuckles but does as told, pulling the remaining material down your legs before hooking your legs over his muscular shoulders. He wastes no time attaching his lips to your sex, sucking delightfully. He swirls his tongue over your clit, stoking the fire building in your stomach. He drags his tongue down your slit for what feels like an eternity before he plunges into you. You throw your head back and close your eyes, mumbling praises into oblivion. You can feel his eyes on you, soaking up every inch of you.

Your hands find his hair again, not seeming to want to be apart from him, “god.”

“That's not my name, baby,” he mumbles against you, stopping his ministrations.

You open your eyes and lock them with his waiting ones, drawing his name out in your best attempt at being seductive, “Elijah.”

His eyes darken but this time you aren't scared. No, this time his eyes make him look dominant. Sexy. His tongue attacks your clit again only this time faster and hungrier. It makes the fire in your stomach white hot. He’s unrelenting, bringing you closer to the edge with every pass of his tongue. He's pouring everything he has into pleasuring you and you can feel it, literally. You squeeze your thighs around him tighter, ready to explode

“Come for me, baby.”

With that you fall into something you’ve heard about but never thought possible. All you can see, all you can feel, is Elijah. He consumes all of your senses as you fall apart, over and over again, under his touch. In the midst of falling apart you catch Elijah’s eyes and fall all over again. He looks like he’s in pure bliss watching you come undone because of him. You know in all your falling you murmur his name more than once. You know that he loves it.

As you come down from your high, you go to unwrap your legs from his neck, only to have him wrap you around his waist and pick you up. You can’t help but giggle at his determined look.

When he starts walking toward your bedroom you ask, “what’s on your mind, Eli?”

“Round two,” you giggle again when he kisses your forehead.

“I'm glad you came over, Elijah.”

#elijah mikealson x reader #elijah mikaelson #TVD #The Vampire Diaries #The Originals #TO #Elijah Mikaelson Imagine #tvd imagine #to imagine #The Vampire Diaries Imagine #The Originals Imagine #Spotify

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cloudbattrolls · 3 years

Text

Just Come Home

Ullane Wistim || Crown Clinic || Some Nights Prior

At first everything had gone on as close to usual as it could. She’d taught Cheran to do a few of Thrixe’s duties, let Friday handle more of the lab work despite her anxieties (it had gone surprisingly well, if anything she was a bit jealous of the bee-fly troll’s efficiency), and changed the clinic’s listing to temporarily only accepting emergency cases.

Queenpin was right about needing more staff. The robots could only pick up so much slack, and given she and Thrixe were also expected to take care of local company interests outside the clinic, things were getting stretched - and she didn’t want to overwork her employees. Friday might be troublesome at times, but she deserved rest as much as anyone else, and Cheran couldn’t be pressed too hard given the limitations of his leg. She didn’t mind paying them for overtime, but obviously they had limits.

She’d hit more of her own than she cared to admit lately.

Cheran’s frown had become a frequent companion, and she had sighed and made herself stop - briefly - to drink and eat and stretch when his silent disapproval was aimed her way. In return, she had encouraged him to take breaks - though she knew by now that he slept in hibernation mode or not at all, odd man.

She was at the reception desk catching up on medical records and medication inventory when the door bell jingled and it opened. She looked up -

And startled.

He wore a violet shirt with gold trim, and black pants. His glowspots were brighter than usual, their light visible even from several feet away.

He didn’t have his gloves on.

She stared at his naked hands, not even caring how obvious she was being. He’d even painted his claws jade - when had that happened? Recently? Or was she only seeing it now?

Was she only seeing him now?

He looked…normal. Thrixe looked disconcertingly normal, not like her bodyguard at all. Not like a man who had just become an abomination.

The seadweller coughed and she snapped back to reality.

“Hi.” He said, hands now in his pockets. He looked as awkward as she felt.

“Hello.” She said slowly, standing up and walking out from behind the desk. Her ears flicked, and his fins fluttered.

“Queenpin said you went full horrorterror.”

She couldn’t help it. The words bubbled out of her like water from a fountain, and she winced as she saw him recoil, then sigh.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” He said firmly. “You’re not going to make me, no matter what. I don’t care if you have questions, I’m - I’m not one of your indigobirds or your spiders, I’m not a construct for you to pick apart and put back together when you’re done with me.

Akalimiya made me realize, and when I got put in jail - when I got chained up - at least they had a reason. At least I’d actually done something wrong! Not that I wanted to, did she tell you that? Did Queenpin bother? Does she even know or care why it happened or is she just like you?”

Ullane took a shuddering breath. She put a hand on the desk for support. She made herself look into his eyes, his angry violet eyes full of hurt and spite and wondering why, why, why?

“I’m sorry, Thrixe.”

He blinked, his fins pinning back.

“You never call me that.”

“I never wanted to.” The mediculler admitted. “I wanted…I made bad choices. Shouldn’t have let her do that to you. I shouldn’t have done those things to you.”

“And?” He said, surprise becoming disdain as his eyebrows arched, arms crossed.

She gritted her teeth. Was he really going to drag this out? Then she felt like ID. No. She wouldn’t be like the other yellowblood, unable to admit when she’d done wrong, giving a half-baked weak-willed apology at best. She was better than that.

“And it was wrong because - because I was wrong about you. Turning into a horrorterror wouldn’t have happened if it weren’t for me. I let Akalimiya hurt you. Treated you like a bomb waiting to go off, can only blame myself when you did. I hurt you in little ways…hundreds of times, thousands, because I was afraid of you. I’m right to be afraid. But can’t keep treating you this way. Fear…fear’s not an excuse.”

Her voice rasped, unused to speaking so much at one time. She trembled, wishing her lusus was here so he could comfort her. She brushed the thought away - she had to face this herself, just as Thrixe had had to face everything himself.

The basket star troll was silent, his face unreadable aside from the barest twitching of his fin tips as he studied her.

“You mean it.” He said after a long pause, his voice resigned. She felt a brief flare of exasperation; of course she meant it! She’d been nothing but honest.

“All the times you treated people with respect or compassion or at least some mercy, even when we were extorting or sabotaging them. All the hits I took for you. All that time you only said thank you like it hurt. Like you couldn’t believe you had to say it. Don’t I look troll enough, Ullane? Don’t I act troll enough?”

His voice was angry but it cracked and the desperation flowed through, the begging of a man trying to chase something he wasn’t sure he could find, or if he did that it might vanish, slipping through his fingers like sand.

“Not when you use your powers.” She said quietly. “Not when you grew tendrils to force people back or snap their necks, not when you regrew your limbs or your brain like you did that night. You’re so much stronger than me, Thrixe, so powerful. Sometimes I catch you looking at something I can’t see, or tilting your head like you’re listening to things I can never hear.”

His gaze flicked to the side, fins going down slightly.

“Yes, I’m strange in some ways.” He admitted the words like they were painful, clawing their way up his throat. “Aren’t we all? Is it my fault I was hatched this way? I hate it as much as you do. They offered to take it away from me, you know. But when they started it hurt like nothing I can describe. I screamed to stop. I know it would have killed me.”

Ullane opened and closed her mouth, her tongue dry. What did she say? What could she say?

“Thrixe.” She whispered. Using his first name still felt strange on her tongue. Varzim, always she called him Varzim to keep that distance between them. Employee and boss. A tool and its user, nothing more.

“You didn’t have to do that.”

He laughed, short and sharp and humorless. “Didn’t I? Or do you just say that because I’d be no use to you anymore without it?”

She flinched.

“I guess I can’t blame you.” He murmured, toying with the end of his braid. “I wouldn’t be any use without it. You don’t need an artist, or a star watcher. You need medical serums and protection. That’s just how the world is.”

“Yes, things’re harsh.” She admitted. “I need you…but I don’t want you to suffer like that. You’re not just your regeneration. I’m not just my psi.”

He raised his eyebrows.

“Queenpin wouldn’t have any use for you without it.”

“Queenpin can go to hell.” She spat the words without thinking and Thrixe’s fins fluttered in alarm.

“What? What did she say to you? What happened?”

The concern in his voice choked her up with guilt.

“Nothing.” She said. “Nothing I can talk about. I want to. But you know her.” The yellowblood waved her hands helplessly.

Thrixe studied her again, but nodded, his face much less hostile now. He even showed a trace of sympathy in the twist of his lips, the angle of his fins.

What good would it do to tell him? She didn’t know details. She didn’t know anything, and she wouldn’t until it was too late to help him.

Help him. Yes. She owed him a debt, she realized.

It was terrible to owe someone a debt - even if they didn’t expect to collect it from you. Especially when she had no idea what she was going to do.

“I’m sleeping in the lounge, if you don’t mind.” He said, his tone making it clear he didn’t much care if she did mind, but he still paused after taking a few steps, looking back at her as if for approval. His bare hands were still such an odd sight, his new clothes also jarring.

She nodded.

“Rest. There’s sopor patches. Won’t wake you, nothing urgent tomorrow.”

Nothing urgent she couldn’t handle herself.

He nodded back and walked down the hallway to the lounge, shutting the door behind him. She heard it click distantly.

She let out a long breath, moving her shoulders up and down to try and release some of their tension. Her tail was practically rigid, and she played with its tuft in her fingers, trying to loosen it up.

At least he was back. She had another chance.

She didn’t intend to waste it.

#we take a break from your scheduled laughs for Thrixe and Ullane having Feelings #cloud writes #thrixe varzim #ullane wistim #and so concludes the end of thrixe's adventures after getting his brain sort of eaten #but it's far from over for starfish man #and the good doctor

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allycryz · 3 years

Note

“I could never define all that you are to me.” Nerys x Estinien x Aymeric

From this prompt list, still taking prompts!

Ended up using this as less a “sentence starter” and more a general prompt with the phrase altered later in

Set some time post 5.0

The late Viscountess named this guest room the “Pink Rose Room” for its colors and decoration. One of six such color-coded guest rooms within the Manor. To Nerys, she thought of it as her room. And gratefully slumped into it, burying herself into the petal pink comforter.

Her feet ached in a way they never had, so used to punishing leaps and runs and a thousand other things that should ruin her lower body but had not yet. The culprit must be the shoes, so delicate and ribbon trimmed that she suffered their discomfort all evening to wear such pretty things.

Perhaps if she wore such shoes more often it wouldn’t be an issue but most days required boots and greaves.

“There you are.” Estinien’s voice was the only indication of his presence until the whole mattress jostled with him lying down beside her. Their legs stretched out side-by-side off the bed, she with her chest and face pressed into the comforter and he with his spine flush against it. “You said you liked events like this.”

“I do.” Nerys muttered into the blankets. “But my feet hurt now and I only have myself to blame.”

“Come on then.” He tugged at her wrist. “You know Aymeric will want to fuss over you. I don’t know why you came here instead of the master suite.”

“You weren’t planning on my staying the night.” She gave a little shrug as she turned her face, cheek against the blanket as she watched him. Her elaborate updo remained in place despite the way she’d flopped onto the bed. The view of his handsome face and the blue jewel at his ear remained unobstructed.

Nerys had meant to leave at least two bells ago, back to Fortemps Manor. And then ended up lost in conversation with the whole of the Hallienarte family about reconstruction efforts and the best goods to import from Gridania. And then the musicians started a set of old Ishgardian favorites and Count Baurendouin insisted his children honor the Warrior of Light with a dance each. And then Count Charlemend needed her opinion on something, so on, so forth-

-Until the guests departed. Aymeric took one look at her and insisted she spend the night, even if the distance to Fortemps Manor was not that far. Tired and seeing how thickly the snow fell outside, Nerys agreed.

Somehow, she’d forgotten how much energy this much social interaction could take. She had new respect for Alphinaud and Haurchefant.

Estinien snorted. “If we needed to be alone, I would tell you. We don’t. Come on.”

“Moment.” Nerys pushed herself up and over, then bent down to work at the ribbons about her ankles. Pleasure and happiness filled her, despite the fiddliness of the knot. What she had with these two...it was different from what they had with each other or what she had with her little coterie of lovers. But the feelings–hers at least–were no less strong because of it.

It was only that she wanted to respect the boundaries, not push herself into their private space.

“Do it in the room,” Estinien said at last and picked her up, cradling her against his chest. Her full silver skirts did not much care to accommodate him and she saw the calculation in his eyes.

“Do not rip these,” she told him. “I like this dress.”

“There must be items I can pull off,” he said and then did, grasping two of the petticoats and tugging them off from under the dress. It meant he put one foot on the bed to prop her up with his knee and she tried very hard not to laugh. Very very hard. And then ended up laughing anyway at the look on his face.

“Stop that.” He hauled her back into a more acceptable carry and strode for the window.

“I can’t,” she giggled, pressing her face to his shoulder. Laughing into the brocade of his dark navy jerkin. “The way you scowled at my petticoats-”

He opened the window, engulfing them in a blast of cold air and snow that near put out the fire in the hearth. Nerys could not help but shiver a little. The gauzy fabric about her arms offered no protection, her neckline was at the height of Ishgardian fashion which meant as much décolletage as possible through tailoring and engineering.

The absolutely feral grin he gave meant Estinien thought he’d won by freezing her amusement. As he leapt up a story and across, she debated challenging him. If he left her on the roof she would not be able to jump down in these shoes. How long could she last before she had to call for a surrender?

Estinien landed on the master suite’s windowsill and rapped three times upon the glass. There was a moment of curtains parting, a key inserted into a lock before one of the panels opened outward (Estinien balanced them both to avoid getting knocked off).

“There are perfectly serviceable stairs,” Aymeric said, holding out his arms. Nerys found herself deposited into them and carried towards the grand hearth.

“This was quicker,” she said, touching his cheek. “Thank you, by the way. Letting me stay overnight and then inviting me into your room.”

His always-startling blue eyes widened. “You are always welcome, Nerys. Always.”

“I told her as much,” Estinien muttered from the window as he climbed inside. “Help her with those shoes, she must have triple-knotted them.”

First, Aymeric set her upon the lavishly embroidered chair by the fire. (It was not expensive or antique. None of the heirloom pieces could be in any room Sainte de Borel might get his claws into. Said cat was nowhere to be seen, likely hiding and angry that Aymeric had allowed over so many strangers.)

Next he dusted the snow from her hair and dress, pulling a green crocheted blanket about her. Only then did he kneel before her, hands cradling her right foot with the lightest of touches. His long fingers skimmed over the silver ribbon, plucking at the knot she’d tied. A slight furrow appeared between his brows.

“You did not want these to come off, it seems,” he said.

“I could hardly lose a shoe while waltzing with Aurvael de Haillenarte. And...they’re very pretty shoes.”

“Hm.” Aymeric worked at it a few more minutes before the ribbon at last was free. He unwrapped it from her ankle, bending to kiss the tender skin revealed. “Pretty shoes for a pretty lady. I understand.”

“You can do better than that.” Estinien’s voice came from above her. He leaned over the back of the chair, pressing callused hands over her shoulders. Kneading at the muscle with almost too much intensity–which was just what her muscles needed to loosen.

“I have all evening to improve.” Aymeric looked up through his dark lashes. “But tell me, what does my lady require of me?”

Their adoration was a palpable thing that wrapped her as warmly as the green blanket. Just as she could not put an easy label of what they were to her, she could not voice what she needed in that moment. All that she could think to say was:

“You. All of you.”

“Everything I am and I have,” Aymeric said with a rush of breath. He rose to kiss her then, gentle hands upon her cheek and hungry mouth upon hers. Estinien circled the chair, joining the tangle to press his lips against her neck, her shoulder, her collar.

And then it did not matter that she could not and maybe never would be able to define what they were to her. They knew they all belonged to each other, and that was enough.

#thank you!#ally writes #nerys eluned #aymeric de borel #estinien wyrmblood #aymeric x estinien x wol #duskwight elezen #duskwight warrior of light #dragoon warrior of light #polyamory #everyone loves everyone and it is good #sainte de borel

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drazzilder · 3 years

Text

A Hellish Encounter

By Drazzilder

Chapter 41: Home

The week in the hospital went by pretty quickly. The first few days were rough with the constant pain and bandage changes but as long as Enji was with you, you could handle it. The last day of the hospital you finally go to see what happened to Enji’s left eye, a large red scar goes down from his hair line, over his eye, all the way down to below his lips, coming to a point. Some of his eyebrow is missing. After seeing it, you felt miserable; a constant reminder of what happened to him but he just hugged you and said not to worry about it. It wasn’t your fault, that man is the one who did it, he did everything to you and he’s gone now. You two managed to slip by the media using your teleport quirk to get back home. Once there, you both worked on trying to get better. The first day home was a little rough, you both were still in pain and sore from everything but you were both well enough to take care of yourselves and each other.

“Enji, please bring the ointments when you come back from the kitchen.” You say from the couch.

He slowly limps in with two drinks and the bottles “Are you sure we didn’t come home too soon, we are still in a lot of pain?”

“I’ve been worse. We will heal faster if we are comfortable.”

“I know you don’t like hospitals…”

“Same with you. This is much calmer and quieter. That and we don’t have the nurses judging us when we get into bed together.”

Placing the drinks down “Don’t worry about them, they have seen it before.”

“You’re probably right. Now come here and lie down and I’ll put some ointment on your face.” You say taking on of the bottles and squeezing some cream into your hand. Enji places his head in your lap as he lies on the couch with some pained grunts. “Sorry but this is going to be cold.” You warn right before the cream hits his skin. He winces a little as you gently rub the over his scar, being careful not to dig your claws into his tender skin. He starts blushing at the amount of attention you’re giving his face as you take your time. Each motion of your fingers works to gently massage the cream in evenly, making sure nothing is missed. He closes his eyes when you get near his left eye and you ask him to rub the cream there for you, it being impossible to do it with your claws. He sits there a moment after your finished and he opens his eyes to look at you smiling down at him.

“How was that?”

“It was nice. Did you have to take it so slow?”

“I can enjoy it too you know.” You say with a smirk.

“Your turn.” Is all Enji says as he gets up with a few grunts. You both change positions and now your feet are in his lap. He takes the bottle and starts putting small dollops of cream on your feet. It’s cold but you don’t mind, it feels good going over your burned skin. Enji takes each foot separately with both hands and rubs all over making sure every inch is covered in the healing ointment, even going through your clawed toes. “We are going to need to trim these, they are getting too long. I wonder what the ladies will think about your feet now?” he says, making you blush.

“Probably something about me not taking care of my feet or claws or whatever. I know you didn’t like it the last time you were there but did you want to come with me this time?”

“After all that we have been through, I think I can handle it. I know right now you don’t want to be away from me. I’ll go with you but tell them to speak Japanese this time.”

As he is still rubbing your feet “Sure. You know, as much as my feet hurt, it is nice just being close to you right now.”

“I could say the same thing when you were rubbing my face. You’re much nicer than some of the nurses.” he says looking at you with a silly grin.

“I’m sorry…”

“Don’t you start feeling sorry again, this had nothing to do with you.” He says point at his scar.

“I’m not apologizing for that, I’m sorry that some of the nurses were rude.”

“Hey, not too long ago I was a huge ass so I deserve it a little.”

You start wiggling your feet in his hands. “But now you’re not. You so much nicer to be around, if not a little needy.”

“What are you saying?” Looking at you, squinting.

“You’re a big ol baby who needs lots of attention.” You giggling.

“Is that so? I wouldn’t be making fun of the man with a fire quirk holding your feet.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat? It sounds more like a good time to me; I am a little chilly.”

“Now you’ve done it!” he says as he quickly moves on top of you. “Now you will get what you deserve for making fun of the number 2 hero.” He begins kissing you all over your face, using his quirk to heat up the area around you two. He never puts his whole weight on top of you, just resting enough to hold you down. Your lips then meet as you both start kissing like it’s the first time you met. Enji starts shaking, he must still be sore and in pain holding himself over you. Placing a hand on Enji’s face, you get him to stop for a moment.

“I can tell you’re struggling above me. Why don’t we do something we haven’t done in a while, if your body is up to it?”

“I’ll be fine.” Now you both get up and Enji goes on the couch first and you place your body completely on him; resting your head on his chest. He whispers “I almost forgot how nice this is.”

“I missed this. Did you want to leave the TV on while we rest?”

“Sounds good to me.” He groans as he wraps his warm arms gently around you. You both stay there for what seems like the whole afternoon. The entire time, you both cuddle with each other, trying to make the healing go faster. Enji manages to fall asleep first, his snoring putting you to sleep. You wake up to Enji running his fingers through your hair and kisses to your face.

“Did my little flame have a good nap?”

“Yea but I’m getting hungry, lets order something.” After some takeout for dinner, you decided to surprise Enji. You walk him to the back yard and tell him to cover his eyes. Once there, you show him the present.

“A hot tub? But I can just warm the water myself.”

“This is different. It has jets and I got Yoshio to give us some of his onsen water.”

“When did you do all of this?”

“When we were in the hospital, I told Fuyumi to get your birthday present early. It is even big enough that Zaheer can join us.”

“You told her all that when she hugged you? You are good.”

“I set the water not too hot so it will be comfortable for both of us. Come on, let’s get it!”

You both strip down and Zaheer appears to join in. You sit in the middle, Enji has one arm around you while Zaheer has an arm around both of you. The hot water and jets relax your body as you enjoy being with both of them.

“If this was my birthday present, why now?”

“I thought it would help us heal faster and after everything we have been through, we could use something to help us in any way. I hope you’re not going to upset having nothing on your birthday. Well, you will still get a cake.”

“Mmmmmm…. after feeling what this thing can do, I think I’ll forgive you.” He says winking at you.

“Good, because you don’t know how hard it was to find one to fit all 3 of us, especially me.”

Some time passes as you all are enjoying the warm water and each other’s presence when you can’t help but sense something is off.

“Um…. Zaheer, do you feel that?”

“What is it (Y/N)?”

“Paparazzi…. Should I scare them away?”

“If you would, just put some shorts on at least. We don’t need images of you naked being spread about.”

In a red flash, Zaheer appears on the other side of the backyard wall. A young man screams while holding a cell phone on a stick to get pictures above the wall. After he runs away, Zaheer jumps over the wall and lands with a ground shaking thud.

“There goes the secret of us being home.”

“They will be here tomorrow, let’s just enjoy tonight while we can.” You say snuggling closer to Enji. He kisses the top of your head and Zaheer joins you in the tub again. You all shift so you’re both in Zaheer’s lap and are wrapped in his arms. After some time, you all exit the tub. Zaheer stays out to join the both of you in bed.

“You ready for tomorrow? They are going to be all over us.” Enji says looking at you from the bed next to Zaheer.

“We have already been through the worst of it, this shouldn’t be too bad.”

Entering in bed “If you’re both here, I can handle anything.”

“I know.” He says as he kisses you.

Next Chapter

#A Hellish Encounter #endeavor x male reader #endeavor #enji todoroki #enji x y/n #enji x reader #mha enji #my hero academia enji #bhna todoroki #bhna endeavor #my hero fanfic #my hero academia #endeavor fluff #endeavor stan #endeavor mha

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yellowfingcr · 3 years

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It was nights like this that bit the deepest and chilled one to the bones. Where, if only for a single harrowing moment, one might forget there was a morning sun to greet at all until the rays struck them between the cracks in narrow backstreet or through the dusted over windows. Temporarily granting the privilege of escaping violence and travesty that unfolded with every hunt. This is where they thrived now, this is what life had become. Between street and seemingly aimless wanderings in the depths that made sense to them.

The Rogue cast her glance over at the prospector who was swiftly in tow, always close and never far behind the other when they choose to accompany eachother for the night. Sparse as peace may truly be, they made due as they slipped into where ever it was that Helena took as her next temporary holding ground. Somewhere out of sight, far away from the eye of the church if only for the time being. Nights like this always lasted, and the cigar smoke would burn thickest toword the good graces of dawn hours at last. The unscrupulousness of the previous events faded into the background but they were never forgotten. Certainly never forgotten.

It was there that they finally settled. Boots drawn up upon tables, coats cast over the backs of chairs, cup spilling over with whatever water, fruit or offering of booze she could scrounge up and give her fellow-in-arms.

Between the cigars, quiet and sordid sing-song, half-hummed chuckles tumbled free at their own expense, "I'm surprised we made it, that was perhaps one of the closest encounters I've had in some time... not that faith is absent in me. However, the Holy Blades are most certainly something, I was actually impressed," She mused as she took a lengthy drag between waiting lips, allowing the smoke to billow out in a lengthy expelled whisp to savor the moment in which her nerves had finally settled and she sank into her seat, "You were beyond magnificent yourself, dear. They could hardly touch you."

Heysel chuckles low in her throat, pale blue smoke curling around her grinning mouth, coiling languidly toward the ceiling. What amount of alcohol is currently sloshing its way through her veins has blunted some sharp edges of her, her gaze more open than the professional patina of finely trimmed mischief usually permits. This is a stolen moment of safety, but a moment of safety nonetheless. She trusts she won’t be found. She trusts Helena to have chosen her hideout wisely. She trusts Helena. No need to be tense as a closed fist.

“Why, thank you,” she says, plucking the cigar from between her teeth and exhaling, “I love being complimented on how well I can pummel someone.”

The memory is still fresh. It comes to her in a sequence of still images one next to the other, a compendium of details, a spinning zoetrope of sensations. The entirety of perception narrowing to preparing for what was about to happen; her body bending, automatically, in a stance to protect all that is weak and soft of her torso; the minute strains and pulls of her hand’s inner anatomy as slowly, comfortably, her nails elongated into claws. Her pulse roaring in her ears. The tension pulled dangerously close to its snapping point in the air. The grounding pressure of Helena’s warm back against her own.

She could say that she was thinking of last moment logistics, as cold sweat prickled her nape, her eyes snapping from one opponent to another to another- they were two; their foes were many more. That she was doing the last considerations and assessments, that her last thoughts were to the companion at her back. And it would be true. But even truer is: when the gossamer-fine thread keeping all the participants static snapped, at long last, when the inevitable course of violence reached its detonating point- Heysel was nothing, nothing but happy. Her heart soared as she swung and dodged. She’d started laughing as the skin of her knuckles began peeling, returning more and more tacky red with each blow delivered, hoarse, delirious. The raw sound of ecstasy.

The zoetrope stops. Heysel blinks, and realizes she’s been staring through her companion for a few awkward seconds too long.

“I’ll admit I’m surprised myself. I didn’t think it would go that well, honestly,” she continues, somewhat apologetically. “Always bizarre how little those things last. It takes excruciating minutes over minutes to hunt down a beast, sometimes hours. It takes one good punch to reduce a man to an unconscious body on the floor. And even if a Blade can take a punch to the chin, well- can they take five? Exactly."

Her cigar is down to a stub. She puts it to rest within the ashtray on the table, to die a dignified death. It occurs to her now that she’s not wearing a smoking jacket and neither is the Rogue; ah well. Luxuries are for people who aren't on the run.

“You punch hard, too. What use has a physician for such a lethal right hook? Is this the current state of medicine? Allow me to say that just to be sure, I do not wish to be your patient. Or is this common between resurrectionists, rather? But-” and here her tone shifts from amused to soft- “I did worry about you. I really did. I don’t think I could have…”

Forgiven herself, had something happened to you. “I don’t enjoy seeing friends hurt,” she picks instead, shooting her an inscrutable smile. “Who does?"

A beat.

"But! You know, let’s raise our glass. I think a toast is in order."

Her own is half empty, and she’s not so sure of what’s inside it anymore. Doesn’t matter.

“To our success. To your frighteningly strong punches. To these fine cigars.” Her eyes search for hers. They shimmer with amusement, and slight intoxication, and other things warm.

“To this sliver of peace. And… to us. Prost, my friend.”

#derjaegermond #hunter au #I took way too long to reply to this- sorry!#but yes. love this. girls' night!

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aethelflaedladyofmercia · 4 years

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Dream A Little Dream - 3

Our next @bingokisses prompt is Tucking Hair Behind the Ear/Palm Kisses! This fic went in...a rather different direction than expected, but I wanted to make full use of the dream concept at least once.

The earlier sections are available on AO3.

Chapter 3: AD 1017 - The Impossible Dream

The knight rode his white stallion easily through the mist, mirror-bright armor resting lightly on his back and limbs. Ahead, a brilliant white stone tower rose, tall enough to pierce the sky, its peak obscured by black storm clouds. Rose bushes thick with thorns surrounded the base, barring all entry except through a single window, nearly a hundred feet high.

He swung himself down from the saddle and strode across the green sward. “Fair maiden!” The warrior lifted the visor of his helm, throwing his voice to echo off the stone. “Tales of your sorrows have spread throughout the kingdom. But fear not, for I, Sir Aziraphale, have come to rescue you from your sordid fate and see you safely hence!”

Far above, a figure leaned from the window. Narrow face pale above a deep black dress, clinging tightly to every curve and angle. Long limbs lost in sweeping crimson sleeves perfectly matched to the figure's main feature: endless waves of dark red hair. A single lock slipped free and tumbled down the side of the tower, nearly long enough to brush the ground below. Long-fingered hands cradled a pert chin as shining eyes took in the knight.

“Really? That’s what you’re going to open with?”

“Crowley!” Aziraphale’s gauntlet struck his hip with an annoyed clank. “I was trying to set a mood here.”

“You certainly set something.” Crowley chuckled, sending another ripple through the ocean of red hair. “I mean, it started well enough, I guess, but sordid fate? See you safely hence? Kind of falls flat if you ask me. Didn’t even mention slaying any wicked beasts.”

“Well. Not really the slaying sort.”

“Don’t let the princesses hear you say that.” Crowley’s fingers drummed on the windowsill. “They all love to see a good slaying. As for what comes next, is safety all you can promise? Might hold out for a better offer.”

“I hardly think you’re in a – a bargaining position up there.”

“Oi, you know how many knights have come by before you? I usually stop counting after twelve, and that was a while back. This tower is prime real estate.” A flash of white teeth behind blood red lips. “Most of them were much better at the speeches, you know. I can give you pointers if you like.”

Aziraphale shifted his cape back over his shoulders, covering his armor. “This isn’t a game, Crowley. Can’t you be serious for once in your life?”

“Everything is a game, Angel.” A flick of Crowley's head sent another river of hair wriggling down the side of the tower. Thick, loose curls, with a strong braid running through the middle. The tips of the hair came to rest twenty feet above the rose bushes. “Oh, will you look at that? Guess I shouldn’t have trimmed it last week, but you know. Split ends. Did you bring a ladder? None of the other knights brought ladders. You’d think, maiden in a tower, that’s the first thing they’d grab.”

“How many knights managed to scale the tower?”

“Jealous?” Crowley braced against the window frame and leaned forward, spilling out the rest of the hair, as well as an ample expanse of bosom. “Don’t worry, the dragon got all of them. They may have talked nice, but they were just shiny armor and fancy words. No substance. Not like you, of course.”

“Flattery won’t win me over.”

“Flattery can do anything, properly applied.”

Aziraphale took a deep breath and adjusted his helmet again. Really, none of this was going remotely to plan. He ought to just drop it and walk away, but not until he was absolutely sure of one thing. “Crowley. Are you alright? The rumors all say that the maiden in the tower is being held against her will. Do…do you need help?”

Crowley’s head tipped this way and that, thinking it over. “Well…yes, I suppose. See, I can’t leave this tower until someone tames the dragon. Why, did you want to try?”

“That was the plan, yes.” He glanced about. The tower was atop a hill, so despite the mist he could see a fair distance. No sign of any monster. “But, if we can get you down before it returns…”

“Nh. Well. About that.” Crowley’s grin grew wider, face grew longer, splitting into a black-scaled, arrow-shaped head with a mouth full of fangs and smoke. “I’m the maiden and the dragon. Ssseemed more efficient that way.”

Delicate, thin hands turned to claws, carving deep cracks into the stone of the wall, and the spill of hair twisted into a long red tail that slashed and darted through the air.

Aziraphale’s horse fled with a terrified scream, but the angel stood his ground, braced and unflinching as the tail wrapped around him, lifted him, pulled him through the air like a fish on a line.

All at once, he was inside the creature’s lair, a deep stone cave filled with stalactites and stalagmites, a pile of shining treasure somewhere just out of sight. One scaled fist clutched the angel from breastplate to greave, while a claw dragged around the edge of his helm, scratching curiously.

“Well? Aren’t you going to sssscream?”

Aziraphale found one golden eye, towering somewhere above him, and held its gaze. “And why should I do that?”

“I’m a monsssster, you idiot.” The fist tightened slightly, enough to make the armor creak and groan. “I could dessstroy you in an insssstant.”

“But you won’t.” Aziraphale wriggled his shoulders, pulling his arms free one at a time. “You won’t hurt me. Ever.”

“How can you be ssssure?” Twin gouts of steam shot from enormous nostrils, volcanically hot. “You should kill me before I tear you apart.”

“You really do need to listen better. I already told you, I’m not the slaying type. I’m here to save you from your fate, no more, no less.”

“You can’t – Angel, there’sss nothing to ressscue me from! You can’t take me away from myself.”

“Well, I certainly didn’t say anything about taking you away.” Aziraphale swept the helmet off his head, dropping it to clatter across the cavern floor. A mass of curly white hair shook free, not as long as Crowley’s had been, but wild and loose, spilling across his shoulders and face. “If you can be both prisoner and dragon…I am both knight and maiden.” His hands rested on the claw that hovered before his face, drawing it close, pressing his cheek to it. “I’m here to rescue you. I’m here to join you.”

“Angel…” The tip of the claw traced across his skin, sharp but gentle, and tucked a lock of hair behind Aziraphale’s ear. “You can’t…you can’t want that.”

“My dear Crowley. What more could I want? You are my friend, my trusted companion. The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of. Please, Crowley, let me do the same for you.”

The clawed hand opened, and suddenly Aziraphale stood on Crowley’s palm, every opalescent scale as big as his own hand. Nothing held him back now. He could jump. He could flee.

Instead, Aziraphale knelt down, armor melting into a shining silver gown, and curled up in the cup of Crowley’s hand as if it were the softest down bed in the world. Pressed his lips to the draconian palm. “Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.”

“Do you mean that?”

Aziraphale glanced up in time to see the dragon’s snout melting again, softening, re-shaping into a narrow face with high cheekbones; neither male nor female, human nor dragon; black scales traced back from a jaw too wide, golden eyes stared unblinking below a sharply sloped brow. The hands that clutched Aziraphale’s elbows were still tipped with sharp claws, and a bright red tongue – splitting into a charcoal-black fork – shot out to taste the air.

He smiled, taking Crowley’s face in his hands. “There you are! My darling…” Aziraphale kissed those thin lips, tasting their desert-dry heat, and felt trembling hands clutch at his hair.

“Angel…”

Aziraphale pressed close, hands tracing down Crowley’s sinuous, bare back, feeling the form shift under his touch – scales, soft skin, silky hair, hot, cold, always changing. Crowley’s tongue flicked down his neck, just to the neckline of his gown, questioning.

“Yes,” he whispered into Crowley’s ear. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

The wagon bounced over a hole in the road, jostling all its contents, including an angel who had been more than a little lost in his thoughts. The rap of his skull against a barrel helped to clear his mind.

Aziraphale quickly tugged his tunic straight and ran his hands through his hair – cut short, as always, regardless of the current fashion – glancing furtively at the other travelers. Two men and an older woman had also hitched a lift to the nearest city. He felt certain they must somehow know what he had imagined, that somehow the intensity of the fantasy had projected itself into the air around them—

But, no, all three sat, arms folded, concerned only with their own thoughts and their own troubles.

Clearing his throat, Aziraphale settled back into the corner of the wagon, tugging up the hood of his undyed wool cloak to hide the flush of his cheeks.

He daydreamed far more often than he used to, particularly while traveling – and more and more often, his fantasies featured one particular being. Though they were rarely so complex. Not to mention so physical. His imagination had simply run away with him, as sometimes happened.

If he concentrated hard enough, he could still feel the grip on his shoulders, drawing him deeper into the embrace—

Oh, no. No, that was dangerous. Crowley would never agree to…oh, whatever that little fantasy had symbolized. A partnership of some kind.

Well, no that wasn’t true. Crowley had suggested a partnership…an Arrangement…once before. Dropped hints every time they met lately. Aziraphale had refused to even consider it, but perhaps…perhaps…the time had come to think again.

Not just yet. Better to consider such things in complete privacy. He took the fantasy and carefully wrapped it in soft cotton, tucking it into the hidden drawer of his mind where he kept his very favorite daydreams, to revisit at a more opportune moment. He would need something simpler to entertain him on the ride.

Aziraphale carefully selected another dream, well-worn from use, and his mind slowly filled with a little stone cottage in a forest glade, the sound of waves echoing from just out of sight, and a dark-robed figure with red hair dancing in the wind, picking blackberries from the bushes…

“There you are!” Aziraphale’s hands cupped Crowley’s face, hideous and twisted though it was, but he only smiled, so warmly, so guilelessly, that it broke Crowley’s heart all over again. “My darling…” The angel rose up on his toes to press full, plump lips to Crowley’s mouth, arms pulling the demon into an embrace so close, so tight, that clawed hands scrambled to reciprocate.

“Angel…” Crowley meant to kiss Aziraphale’s jaw, but the serpent tongue had a mind of its own, exploring his neck down to the opening of his gown, the swells and curves hidden underneath. Surely that would be the last straw; surely now Aziraphale would see Crowley was nothing more than a beast, a monster whose very presence defiled everything pure. Crowley waited for the rejection, for Aziraphale to struggle to get away—

“Yes,” the soft voice curled into Crowley’s ear, even as soft hands clutched at narrow hips. “Oh, yes, Crowley—”

He snapped awake, scrambling to keep his balance on the branch as the wind chilled his flushed skin.

That had…not been the dream he expected. Usually, after an attempted exorcism, he had bad dreams for a week.

Crowley had fallen asleep in a tree, after being driven out of the nearby village by an overzealous priest. It happened more often these days; the humans were becoming more aware, somehow, more able to see him for what he really was. He’d need to improve his disguise, work harder to fit in.

Work harder to be anything other than himself.

The one being who…who makes me feel…myself. Who makes me feel that’s nothing to be ashamed of.

“Easy for you,” he grumbled into the darkness. “You’re a blessed angel. You’re as bloody perfect as the day you were made. Why would you ever feel ashamed? And I’m – I’m just…”

Whatever form you take, you are the most beautiful creature I’ve ever seen.

He closed his eyes again, trying to catch that warmth, that feeling of acceptance, one more time. Not that Aziraphale actually felt that way, he’d rejected Crowley's idea for an Arrangement, cut him off any time he tried to even bring it up. But still…

Crowley drifted off to sleep, hoping he’d dream of Aziraphale again.

Thank you for reading! This one got WILDLY out of hand as I wrote, but in a good way, I suppose. More will be coming shortly, but if you liked it, please drop a comment here or on AO3!

Let me know if you want me to tag you on future chapters.

@angel-and-serpent

#good omens prime #ineffable husbands #monster crowley #genderfluid crowley #aziraphale and crowley #aziraphale #crowley #fairly tale retelling #asexual ineffable husbands #asexual aziraphale #asexual crowley #my writing #Dream a little dream #ao3 link #prompt fic

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