#as I keep telling myself - just cause I don’t make these things now doesn’t mean I can do them in the future. my ideas will still be there | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

jenflirts · 5 months

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mending my broken heart

pairing: tara carpenter x fem!reader

theme: angst :)

summary: maybe you're the one...

warning: profanities, grammar, no ghostface and cheating

a/n: based on my feelings :) | enjoy.

Falling for someone isn’t for weak people,

Nor being attached,

Nor loving someone.

These are the feelings that will make you mentally and physically weak, just because you would do everything just to have them, just to give them all your attention, love, and hell, even your soul, but why isn’t it for the weak? Well, only emotionally controlled people can survive these challenges. These are the obstacles that we face when we’re in love and this makes us vulnerable.

We’ve always thought that if a partner loves or falls for you it means they’ve accepted your flaws, insecurities, clinginess, stupidity, good days and bad ones, but sometimes don’t you think that they accepted that because they needed too? Out of pity? Or sometimes just to play you cause they’re just bored. I’ve always thought about falling in love and being vulnerable to a person, but then my overthinking mind stops me from doing so.

Yeah, taking from my perspective—a person that’s been played and got attached too many times just because they showed affection—I’ve been hurt so much that I don’t even count how many times that they scarred my heart and still gave them another chance. I did everything I could just not to fall for someone, but I just can’t stop myself ‘cause it feels like an addiction I cannot control. I keep thinking about the past relationships I had and even thought about the times that I let my heart heal and mend it by myself and yet, I keep longing for the wrong people and their fucked up affections.

And then there’s Tara, the girl that makes me feel special, the person that let me believe that love is worth waiting for, and love really does exist. Tara is the type of person that would really make you fall in love with her and not in the bad way, but because she’s the type of girl that you’ll feel comfortable to be around with, rides with your antics, will help you in any possible way, and makes you love your true self.

Tara and I have been dating for almost 2 years and the truth is I’ve fallen deeply in love with her, she already accepted my vulnerability and I accepted hers so there’s really no turning back. I’ve thought about these feelings thoroughly ‘cause I don’t want to hurt her nor she wants to hurt me, I’ve always wanted to feel vulnerable around someone I trust and love the most ‘cause I don’t want to let people see my true facade. Tara saw something in me that people don’t and she’s been helping me to cope up with that.

Everything has been great ever since I dated Tara.

December 09

It's our finals and both of us are stressed out since both of us picked a hard course and I actually want to do something special for her since it’s our anniversary so I’ve prepared dinner, movies and gifts just to surprise her. I went home earlier than she did so I could prepare the things I wanted to give and the words that I wanted to say; Thankfully, Sam and Mindy helped me to do everything.

“Minds? Do you think Tara would like it if I gave her a promise ring on our anniversary?” I asked the girl as we strolled through the jewelry shop. She stopped her tracks and looked at me surprised “A promise ring? Really? Doesn’t that curse relationships?” She asked as she glimpsed the rings.

A promise ring breaks relationships? Now what kind of fuck-mind would believe that. “And where did you get that information? Is it one of those crazies at the uni?” I joked.

“I’m just telling you that rings don't mean forever,” she said. That’s actually true, but I’m not gonna listen to her and Tara deserves a promise that I will love her forever so I picked out the ring and necklace for our anniversary tomorrow.

I helped Tara go inside our apartment and took the blindfold off. She engulfed me into a hug and kisses all over my face. "Tara, we need to eat" I said as I put her down on the floor.

Everything went smoothly and both ended with a promise to love and hold forever.

December 14

The day that feels eerie and gut wrenching, it feels so slow and bothering. "Minds, Tara hasn't texted me for the last few weeks and it's concerning me" I said as I tossed her my phone to check Tara and I's conversation.

"She also hasn't been going home" I added and groaned loudly.

"Yeah, I noticed that. You didn't confront her about this? But I always see her at the uni tho" She said.

Is Tara avoiding me? Did I do something wrong last week? Did she do something wrong? Did something happen that I didn't know? A lot of things suddenly hits me, I thought about everything that I've done last week ago, but nothing really came into my mind.

It's already past midnight and I'm still going on about Tara. I heard the door open and keys tossed on the counter. I went outside and checked if Tara's here or just Mindy wanted to crash by.

"Tara? Baby? Where were you?" I asked as I sat beside her on the living room coach.

"Sam's and did some thinking, so can we talk?" she said.

Why does it feel so suffocating? The way she looks at me feels so different; it feels empty and drained. I nodded and sat in front of her.

"For the last few weeks I've been isolating myself to you and it felt different after what I did. It's been perfect for the last 2 years and I loved every single moment that we've done, but I think we must part our ways and fix ourselves" She cried.

What? Just like that? After 2 fucking years? She's just going to throw it all away? I was too stunned to speak, my brain was spewing out words, but my mouth can't function properly. I felt my eyes stung and tears rolled down on my cheeks.

"So? That's it? Gonna throw away our 2 year relationship out the fucking window like its nothing? Damn Tara, I don't know what to say nor to react" I said as I wiped the tears that keep continuing running down on my cheeks.

She doesn't say anything, but her eyes tells me differently like she's guilty for not telling me the reason why.

"Tara, what's the sudden break-up? what's the reason? 'cause I know for a goddamn fact that it's not about self improvement shits. Tell me so that we could fix it" I assured her

She shook her head no and keeps sobbing uncontrollably. I went to her and wiped her tears; I held her hands, "Love? what happened? tell me so we could fix it" I said as I gently squeeze her hand.

She slowly stopped crying and let me wiped her mascara tear-stains. "It was at Wes's parties and you were studying for your final lesson at that time. Amber snuck me out and helped me unwind by bring me to Wes's parties then I got drunk and I couldn't control myself and so did Chad" she explained.

I couldn't believe it.

The love of my life, cheated.

The girl that I trusted the most, cheated.

I felt my whole world fell apart. It feels like my heart just shuttered into pieces, it feels like there's a new cut to it. I feel betrayed, angry and disappointed all at the same time.

I stood up and went back to my seat and comprehend what just Tara said. I can't do this right now, my mind is all over the place.

"babe? hey? I thought we were gonna fix these" she said

does she really think there's something to be fix? I gave her my everything and this is how she repays me. cheating on me with my other best friend? damn, that's another form of betrayal.

"tara, get out. I can't right now. I just want to be alone for a moment"

She doesn't understand what pain I'm going through right now.

After Tara closed the apartment door, I tried smashing everything so that I could somewhat calm down.

I sat on the living room floor and thought about the things that I have done on why Tara have to do this. Wasn't I enough? Am I that easy to replace? Is our relationship just out of pity? There's so much unanswered questions that I have on my mind, but right now I just want to be alone and mend my broken heart.

I thought she was the one that’s going to help me mend up the open cuts that people leave on my heart, but I would never predict that she was going to leave a big one.

(part 2 of my lovely, jenna is on-going)

#Spotify #tara carpenter x fem!reader #jenna ortega imagine #jenna marie ortega #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x reader #tara carpenter x female reader #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #wlw #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #vada cavell #vada cavell x reader

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tkaulitzlvr · 7 months

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could u do 2008 tom getting in an argument with the reader and after arguing a lot, the reader just tries to go to bed. after a couple mins, tom realizes he was wrong and tries to climb in bed with the reader and is like super clingy and tries to touch the reader but gets ignored. and he’s all like “yk how i get when i can’t touch you” AUGHH😩😩 and then it’s js smut that ends with fluff/aftercare

btw ur my fav writer ever i absolutely adore ur writing 🖤

LET ME SHOW YOU - T. KAULITZ

synopsis: you are tired of arguing, deciding to go to bed before things get too out of hand. tom realises that he has messed up, but you are being stubborn, still not over what he has done. he doesn’t give up so easily, begging to get what he wants.

content: angst to smut, little bit of fluff throughout.

a/n: thank u so much that really means a lot!! love this idea, i hope u enjoy!💞

“you know what? i’m done. i’m tired of explaining this to you when you clearly don’t get it.” i huff, shaking my head and running my hands through my hair.

“you’re right. i don’t get it. you’re mad at me for doing my job!” he shoots back, eyes cold and dark, jaw clenched as he stands across from me on the other side of the kitchen.

“you can’t be fucking serious! don’t paint me as some clingy selfish girlfriend when all i’m asking is that you don’t come home at midnight every night, and go straight to bed! it’s like we aren’t even together anymore. we live in the same house but we never talk, never communicate. you only show me affection if it’s a quick kiss or hug, or you want sex.” i rant, fuming at his lack of mindfulness, failing to believe how he is so oblivious.

“what so we’re just lying now, is that what this is?” he scoffs, taking a breath before continuing. “cause you know that’s not true. i always hug you, kiss you, tell you i love you, don’t i? and you know that i value you way beyond sex, so don’t even go there.”

“you’re completely missing the point!”

“then what is the fucking point?”

his voice raises far higher than mine, louder than it ever has before. he would never raise his voice at me, not like this. my mouth opens, tears clouding my vision as i am taken aback at his sudden outburst, but he doesn’t seem to care, my silence only seen as an invitation to keep going.

“hm, what is the point? you’ve always known that my job demands a lot of me, and i told you that it would be difficult, but i’m trying my best. if i could be with you more, i would. you know that we’re pushing to get this album perfect, so can you give me a fucking break and stop acting like i’m some awful boyfriend?” he shouts, anger laced within every word, each one stabbing me right in the heart, making me feel stupid for even bringing this whole conversation up. i just missed him, but he couldn’t seem to understand why.

i nod my head, pursing my lips together as the tears cascade down my cheeks.

“okay. i’m going to bed.” i whisper, not waiting for him to respond, turning away from him and leaving the kitchen, trudging up the stairs towards our bedroom. he doesn’t follow me, instead i hear a loud bang come from the kitchen, his fist colliding with the counter as he curses in frustration.

the room is strangely cold as i walk into it, completely dark with little natural light coming through the window despite the curtains still being wide open, reminding me of how late it is - and how long i had been waiting for tom to come home. my feet walk along the carpet, the floorboards creaking a little until i arrive at my bed, climbing into it and letting the covers embrace me, instead of tom. i feel numb, not enough energy in me to cry, yet too upset to just sleep it off. instead, i stare out of the window, the cityscape invading my eye line as i try to distract myself from what had just happened, watching the world around me as it moves on and on, wishing that i could do the same.

the door slowly creaks open, my head turning in its direction as tom walks through it, his expression one of pure regret. he is silent, not saying a word as he goes over to the mirror, taking his cap off and placing it gently on the dresser, taking his dreads out of their ponytail, his eyes suddenly meeting mine through the mirror as i stare into them.

“baby can we talk?” he says, still looking at me through the mirror as he removes his shirt, folding it neatly and leaving it on top of the dresser, his bare back facing me from across the room.

“about what?” i scoff, finally breaking the eye contact and laying down, staring motionlessly at the ceiling. “you were pretty sure of what you said, there’s nothing else to speak about.”

my gaze still fixed on the ceiling, i hear him step away from the mirror, walking cautiously towards the bed. i feel it dip beside me, before two arms snake around my waist.

i roughly pull away from his grip, taking his hands and shoving them back in his direction, not falling for his attempts to iron out the tension, especially ones that involve him putting his hands on me.

“baby…you know i didn’t mean any of that.” he calmly speaks, trying again to touch me, this time taking my hand in his. once again, i refuse, shuffling even further away from him.

“can you not touch me? i’m not in the mood for your shitty apologies just- go to sleep.” my voice is harsh, hurt taking over his expression as i speak, but i don’t feel an ounce of sympathy for him. instead, seeing him experience even a fraction of the sadness that he had just put me through satisfies me.

“leibe…please listen to me. i’m so sorry.” he begins, turning onto his side so that he is now facing me. “i’ve been a shitty boyfriend lately, you don’t deserve that. i’ve just been so caught up with the album and it brought me away from you, but i shouldn’t have let it. please baby, please forgive me. i’ll never let this happen again.”

as he comes to the end of his speech, his hand tentatively reaches for my cheek, his thumb trying to stroke the skin, but i move backwards, becoming irritated at his ignorance.

“are you deaf? stop touching me tom!” i ignore his apology, because right now, it means nothing to me, his initial words still a fresh wound. no apology, no matter how sincere, would be enough to make me forget them just yet.

“schatz, please, you know how i get when i can’t touch you. don’t accept my apology, don’t talk to me, i get it, i deserve it. but please my love, just let me hold you, that’s all i want.” he begs, his voice reducing to a whisper as it cracks a little.

his love language had always been physical touch, and, even when we were fighting, he would always hold me whilst we slept, no matter how mad i was. i knew that me refusing his touch was getting to him and, despite me being completely infuriated, it was impossible to ignore the slight pang of guilt that settled in my heart as i listened to his pleas.

i say nothing, moving a little closer to him, leaving enough space so that he would have to reach out to be able to touch me. he takes my silence as a yes, inching his body closer to mine, his arms pulling me tightly into him, his head resting in the crook of my neck. i feel him relax a little, his shoulders dropping as he pulls me further into his embrace, holding me so tightly that i can feel his heartbeat from within his chest. his breathing tickles my neck, his head snuggling into it as he takes in my scent, clearly having missed being this close to me. but still, i say nothing, giving him this small sense of comfort though anger still courses through my veins, in no position to forgive him just yet. however, it is impossible to deny the security i gain from his embrace, the way his hands run comfortingly up and down my back giving me a sense of contentment that only he can bring.

“i love you. i love you so much.” he whispers into my neck, planting a short and soft kiss there. “you’ll never understand how much i love you baby, you’re everything to me, my whole world.”

his hands begin to caress my lower back, travelling downwards and giving my ass a soft squeeze as his lips plant slow kisses on my neck and collarbone, all whilst he continues to whisper sweet nothings into my ear, pouring his heart out whilst his movements begin to increase - making his intentions crystal clear.

“tom please, not now. i’m still mad at you.” i say, trying to keep my voice stern, but an elongated sigh pours from my parted lips once his find the spot below my ear that makes me go crazy.

“you won’t be once i’m finished, i promise baby. just let me show you what you mean to me, mhm?” he asks, pulling his head from my neck to look into my eyes, a glint of desperation present within them.

i study his features, starting at his brown eyes - warm and enticing, looking into mine with so much admiration, so much love. his skin, smooth and flawless, unable to count how many times i have felt it against mine. his lips, soft and inviting, decorated with a small metal ring, loving how it would always feel against me, the harshness of it always contrasting with the warmth of his lips as they would move against mine.

and it is that small glance that makes me give in, my hands reaching for his head as i pull it downwards, quickly joining his lips with mine. he is taken aback, but it only takes him a few seconds to kiss me back, cupping my face with his hands and bringing me in even closer, our bodies merging as one.

he pulls away, a soft smile tugging on his lips as he begins to gently remove my clothing, starting with my shorts, kissing upwards until he reaches my hoodie, that soon following, leaving me in only my lingerie.

“so perfect.” he mutters, pecking my lips. “you’re so beautiful meine liebe, you know that?”

my cheeks heat up at his words as they spill like liquid gold from his pink lips, our fight feeling further and further away. it becomes harder to imagine that it ever happened, the way he touches me with such care making it seem almost impossible.

his clothes already off as he always sleeps in just his boxers, he reaches to remove his underwear, turning his attention to my own panties, letting them join the existing pile of clothes scattered around the room.

he moves to the top of the bed, sitting with his back resting against the headboard, gently picking me up and placing me into his lap as i straddle his waist, hands resting his shoulders as i stare into his eyes, a little nervous as i am never usually the one on top.

“tom i-”

“shhh, you’re okay, just ride.” he comforts, moving loose strands of hair from my face, placing a reassuring kiss on my lips.

i nod hesitantly, lifting my hips up and sliding down onto him, moaning as i take him in, my walls stretching as they become accustomed to his size. tom’s head has fallen backwards, fingers digging into my hips a little as his lips are parted, no noise escaping from them.

once i am used to his size, i begin to bounce slowly, picking up a steady rhythm as tom continues to hold on to my hips, helping me move.

“doing so well baby. just like that.” he sighs, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip, eyes squeezing shut.

it doesn’t take long for my legs to ache, no longer able to continue moving up and down, already tired. my movements are slow and lethargic, almost half-hearted as i try my best to keep going, chasing my release as i crave it more than anything, tom clearly feeling the same as his hold on my waist only tightens, his grip strong enough to leave faint marks on the skin.

“i can’t.” i whine, frustrated that i can’t keep going, completely spent. i fall forwards, collapsing onto tom’s chest, still inside him as he slowly thrusts upwards into me, his arms wrapping around my back as he kisses my forehead.

“you did so good baby, don’t worry.”

those are the only words he says before swiftly flipping us over, my back flush against the mattress as he begins to thrust into me at a relentless pace from above, my mouth falling open as loud moans pour from it, his name a mantra as it effortlessly falls from my lips. he hits places within me that have never been touched before, so deep inside me that i can feel him in my stomach, a small bulge visible as he moves in and out of me.

“love you so much, fuck-” tom groans, his hands on my thighs as he kneads the flesh, prying them further apart as the pleasure prompts them to try close around his waist.

“getting close baby, you close?” he mutters, moving his head so that his forehead is against mine, eyes studying my face as he awaits my response.

all i can do is let out an almost inaudible ‘mhm’, so close to my release that i can almost feel it, the knot in my stomach ready to burst any second. the way his dick twitches inside of me tells me that he is there too, his thrusts irregular.

“let go schatz, cum for me.” he says, watching as my face twists in pleasure, my release washing over me, the pressure of his coming at the same time too much as i squeeze my eyes shut, hands clutching onto his upper arms. my entire body shakes, the feeling overwhelming, mouth open in a silent scream as tom moans into my ear, still rocking in and out of me slowly, riding out our highs.

i am completely spent, laying motionless beneath him, my throat raw from the sounds that had emitted from it, breathing heavy and reckless. tom pulls out, wiping a few tears from my eyes that i hadn’t even realised had fallen, kissing the skin afterwards.

“you okay baby? you did so good, did i go too hard?” he says, my mind not fully registering what he is saying as i am completely exhausted, eyes starting to flutter shut. “you can’t sleep yet, let’s get you cleaned up, yeah?”

i manage a weak nod, feeling tom lift me up bridal style, carrying me into the bathroom and carefully placing me on the counter. he walks over to the bath, turning the taps on and letting the water run, before rushing back over to me, taking a damp cloth and wiping me with it as a jolt when he is a little too rough, the area sensitive.

“sorry baby.” he mutters, kissing my forehead, separating my legs and moving to stand between them, embracing me in a hug and resting his head on top of mine whilst the bath fills up, small ‘i love you’s’ escaping his lips as he rubs my back, trying to soothe me in any way he can.

after a couple of minutes, he picks me up, gently placing me in the bath as the water submerges me, the warmth of it already easing the aching pain that runs through my body. he climbs in behind me as i sit between his legs, my back against his chest.

he washes my hair, massaging the shampoo into my scalp as my head falls backwards onto his shoulder, the feeling relaxing me even more, completely at peace in his arms. he moves to my body, carefully washing the delicate skin, planting occasional kisses on my shoulders and back as my breathing slows, on the verge of falling asleep.

he sees that i am too tired to stand up myself, picking me up and carrying me out as i wrap my arms and legs around him. he finds a towel, setting me back on the counter and drying my body, leaving the bathroom for a second and returning with some fresh ‘pyjamas’ - which consisted of a random t-shirt of his and some clean panties.

“come on baby, put these on then we can go to bed, mhm?” he says as i lift my arms up, allowing him to place the t-shirt onto my small frame, the material hanging off my figure as it reaches my knees. he takes my panties, moving them up my legs slowly, my hips bucking upwards so he can fully put them on me, finally putting his own underwear on.

he takes me to the bedroom, tucking me into bed and placing the covers over me, climbing in beside me, his arms wrapping around my waist as i cuddle into him.

“i’m so sorry for everything. i love you.” he whispers, kissing my hair softly.

i mutter a small ‘love you’ against his chest, falling asleep within minutes, completely exhausted.

requests are open! keep sending them in!!

#tom kaulitz #tokiohotel #tom kaulitz angst #kaulitz #tom kaulitz fluff #kaulitz twins #tom kaulitz smut #tomkaulitz #tom kaulitz x reader #bill kaulitz

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throughthetwistedmirror · 8 months

Text

Overblot Reaction ~ You Have a Nightmare About Their Overblot

Summary: You have a nightmare about another Overblot. How do they react to that?

Pairing: Overblot!Twisted Wonderland X Fem!Reader

Genre: Fluffyish Reaction

Word Count: 2057

Warning: Fear, terror, overblots

Masterlist

A/N: I hope I did them justice!

Riddle Rosehearts:

“RIDDLE!”

Said housewarden jolted awake at your scream. Stumbling out of bed, he made his way to the guest room where you were staying, as it was much too cold for you to be staying in Ramshackle. He saw you sitting up in bed, your hand clutching your chest as you tried to regain control of your breathing. As soon as you spotted him, you bit your lip and looked away.

“I’m sorry Riddle. I didn’t mean to wake you. You can go back to sleep now.” You murmured.

He shook himself slightly, trying not to appear ruffled. “Are you alright? You sounded as if you were in distress. Is there anything I can do to help?”

You shook your head. “No, I’m fine, really. Just a bad dream, that’s all.”

“A bad dream? What was it about?”

“Don’t worry Riddle. It was nothing.” You tried to assure him. “Please, go back to sleep. I’ll be fine.”

He frowned before asking if he could sit on the bed with you. When you agreed, he opened and closed his mouth a couple of times, as if trying to find the right thing to say, before finally saying, “I don’t know what your nightmare was about, and I don’t want to overstep your boundaries and pry. But if you need anything, anything at all, I hope you know that you can come to me. I want to be there for you when you need me most.”

Your heart ached at his words and, despite your better judgment, you hugged him. He was stiff as a board at first but eventually melted into the hug. Tears welled in your eyes and you knew you had to tell him. It was no use keeping him in the dark about it.

“I dreamed you overblotted again. It scared me so much because it felt like you weren’t going to change back. I don’t want to lose you again, Riddle.”

He froze again and you couldn’t help but wince slightly. He pulled away only to look you in the eyes and use his thumbs to wipe away your tears. “Hey, it’s okay. That would be really scary and I’m so, so, so sorry for putting you through all of that. You didn’t deserve to go through it once and you don’t deserve to go through it again. I promise you I will try my hardest to never overblot again.”

Pulling him into a hug, you buried your head into his shoulder. “As long as you try, that’s all that matters to me. You mean too much to me. I don’t want you to suffer like that ever again.”

He held you tighter. “I promise to make sure it doesn’t happen again.”

“I love you.”

Riddle flinched before melting. “I love you too.”

Leona Kingscholar:

A sharp gasp and a shifting of weight caused Leona to crack one of his eyes open. “Herbivore, quit moving around. I’m trying to sleep.”

“S-sorry.” Your voice wavered slightly. “Just go back to sleep. I-I’ll be right back.”

Before you could get off of him, he wrapped his arms around your lower back. “I can practically smell the anxiety rolling off of you. What’s wrong?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing.”

“It’s obviously not nothing.”

“You’ll just think I’m being silly.”

“Spit it out already.”

“I just had a nightmare, that’s all.” You turned away from him and he could tell it was serious. If you were being silly, you wouldn’t be avoiding eye contact. Gently, he took your chin in his hand and turned so you were facing him, giving you an unimpressed look.

“About what?”

You shook your head. “No-”

“If you say nothing again, I’ll find another way to get it out of you.”

Sighing, you said, “If only to save myself from your torture later, I had a nightmare that you overblotted again. I know, it’s silly, but it felt so real and I was so scared…”

As you trailed off he sighed. Pressing the back of your head so you were laying on his shoulder again, he muttered. “It won’t happen again. You know how I know that? It’s because I have you now. That’s how I know.”

You were glad you were on his shoulder so he couldn’t see your blush. “I’m glad I have you too.”

“Now go back to sleep already.”

Azul Ashengrotto:

It was just a nightmare. A bad dream. It wasn’t real.

At least, that’s what you kept telling yourself. But the truth is, you couldn’t stop thinking about it. It felt so real. No matter what you did, you could still see it, hear it, feel it. You didn’t know what to do. All you knew was you had to at least try to make it through the day.

Arriving at Mostro Lounge, you tried to suppress a yawn. With that vivid nightmare, you didn’t sleep much last night. But you didn’t want Azul to know about that. You didn’t want to worry him. Besides, you were just a little tired. It wasn’t worth worrying over in the first place.

“Koebi-chan! Look at you! You look like a wreck!”

Of course, just because you could probably fake it in front of Azul, didn’t mean you could fake it for the Tweels. The Leech brothers appeared on either side of you. Floyd had his signature smirk, though Jade looked ever so slightly worried. He gently pressed a gloved hand to your forehead.

“Are you sick? Is that why you don’t look well?”

“Who’s not well?”

You wanted to groan but you were too tired to try to act like nothing was wrong in front of Azul anymore. “I’m just a little tired, that’s all.”

He shook his head. “You look more than a little tired. Here, you can rest in the VIP room. I’ll make sure no one disturbs you while you’re here.”

As Azul took your hand, you allowed him to lead you to the VIP room, where he set you up with some pillows and blankets. He nodded at the cocoon he had wrapped you in, providing you with optimal warmth and comfort. With pink cheeks, he brushed some hair out of your face and pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Sweet dreams. I’ll wake you up in an hour or so, alright?”

You nodded and closed your eyes, sleep rushing to claim you. However before you could drift on and he could attend his duties at the Lounge, you grabbed his hand. In a voice thick with sleep you said, “Promise me you won’t ever overblot again. I don’t think I could handle it if I lost you again. You mean far too much to me to watch you torture yourself like that again. Promise me that you love me just as much as I love you and you won’t ever let your doubts get in the way of that.”

Though you couldn’t see it, Azul was shocked. One, because you said all of that right before falling asleep. Two, because you did care for him just as much as he cared for you. He’s always loved you but was too afraid of saying anything. Now he knew you loved him. Now he knew what to do.

Kissing your forehead once more, he whispered. “I promise. I love you too, my heart.”

Jamil Viper:

You should have known better. You should’ve known how hyper aware he was. For Seven’s sake, he has been Kalim’s servant all his life! Yet that didn’t stop you from sneaking to his room in the middle of the night, just to make sure he was all safe and sound.

When you confirmed he was in bed, looking completely normal, you let out a soft sigh. It was just a nightmare. That’s all it was. And it wasn’t true. Now you could go back to sleep.

“Are you going to stand in my doorway all night or are you going to tell me what you’re doing up this late at night?” He called out to you.

You felt your cheeks warm and you rubbed the back of your neck, “I just needed to walk around a bit, that’s all. I thought it would make me feel sleepy.”

Jamil sat up and rubbed one of his eyes as he frowned. “You’re a very bad liar. Tell me what’s wrong or go back to sleep, alright?”

“But I’m not lying!” You countered. “I just had a bad dream, that's all. And it woke me up, so I’m walking around so I feel tired again. So you see? I’m not lying.”

“Hmmm.” He looked you up down, as if judging to see if your story measured up.

You felt nervous and you didn’t know why. You wondered if it had anything to do with your nightmare. You shook your head. No, that was ridiculous and insulting. Jamil wouldn’t overblot just because you accidentally woke him up. He is too level-headed for that.

However, what he did next surprised you. Moving over, Jamil patted the empty space. “C’mon. Maybe this will help you fall asleep.”

Unable to argue, you crawled into bed next to him. As he pulled you close, he whispered, “I’m not going to ask what the nightmare was about. Just know that it’s over and it’s never going to come true. If you still think about it, just squeeze. I’ll protect you from harm.”

Your heart melted at his words. You decided to snuggle up close, causing him to chuckle. “Thank you Jamil.”

“Of course, diamond.”

Vil Schoenheit:

Vil knew something was open when you arrived at a photoshoot late and yawned. As soon as you sat in the hair and makeup chair, he started lecturing you about better sleeping habits. He was even more concerned when you didn’t try and fight back or say a word. You looked like a zombie, staring straight ahead and barely acknowledging what he was saying.

Something happened last night.

Before Vil could ask about it, the two of you were called to set. He tried to put on a show like he always did, but he was anxious. He tried his best not to let it show, but he kept shooting worried glances your way. But you didn’t seem to notice. It was really starting to freak him out.

Eventually, there was a five minute break and he whisked you to the green room. Sitting you down on one of the couches, he staged a small intervention.

“What’s with you today? You’re hardly paying attention and you seem more dead than alive. What happened to-”

Before Vil could continue, you burst into tears. He was caught off guard momentarily. Then he sat down and patted your back. “Please, potato, tell me what’s troubling you. I hate seeing you cry like this. Tell me what I need to do to fix this.”

“I had a very scary nightmare last night.” You explained. “You overblotted and I couldn’t save you. I’m sorry, but I was so frightened I couldn’t sleep at all last night. And then you were so upset with me for not sleeping and now you’re upset that I’m ruining your photoshoot. Please don’t overblot! I don’t know if I can save you again!”

Your answer shocked him to the core. He didn’t know you cared about him like this, or that you worried so much that you were losing sleep over him. He was touched, but he didn’t have time to be grateful for your sentiment. He needed to stop these waterworks before your makeup smeared too bad.

“Oh, my sweet potato!” He cried. “I’m never going to overblot again! These have just been minor inconveniences today, that’s all. I’m more worried about you than the photoshoot. I want to make sure you’re taking care of yourself, that’s all. Please don’t cry, potato.”

Eventually, you stopped crying and he pulled you into a hug, trying not to think about how his suit was probably being wrinkled and ruined. “I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to apologize for.” He assured you. “Do you think we can keep going today?”

Pulling away, you nodded, sniffed, and wiped your nose. “Yeah, I can keep going.”

Vil gave you a tender smile and patted your cheek. “Excellent. Now let’s fix your hair and makeup, shall we?”

572 notes · View notes

yourejinx · 10 months

Text

Undeniable Bonds

Azriel x F. Reader

Warnings: angst, as per usual. Violence, mentions of blood, mentions of death, curse words. Not proof read.

word count: 4k+.

Author’s note: I’m sorry I’m so late with this. I don’t even know what to say anymore, thank you for keeping up with me.

CHAPTER FOUR.

“It’s alright, just breathe,”

There’s warmth against my forehead, and the words are a soft breath against my skin. I feel like every bone in my body has locked me into place, a prison, and I can’t move, I can’t breathe.

The dark pit that has opened in my gut threatens to devour me whole and I recognise its numbness. It’s beckoning me to let go, to embrace it. A gentle, soothing touch at my back it’s the only thing that’s keeping me anchored to reality, red and gold it’s all I’ve been staring at for what feels like an eternity.

“Easy, dove.”

Cassian. Cassian is here. He’s enveloped me with his wings into a cocoon, a shelter against the world, his forehead is pressed against mine and he keeps rubbing circles between my shoulderblades. Some distant sense of self is returning to me, barely enough for me to turn my head and look at him. Dark hazel eyes stare back at me and the similarity to that other pair of eyes makes it almost unbearable to keep looking at them, my chest aches and I want to pull away. But Cass holds firm, strong hands holding my arms as he inhales deeply, motioning me to follow.

I took one pathetic shuddering breath, two. My racing heart started to slow down and cool air flowed to my lungs.

“There you go…” He hummed.

Once I’m settled back into myself and my limbs don’t feel nearly as stiff as before, he slowly pulls away, allowing me to take in my surroundings. We’ve moved to the balcony outside one of the guest rooms, somehow. When did he even show up?

“Rhys called me, and told me what happened. How are you feeling?” His voice was so full of concern.

I shook my head, how could I put it into words? Was this what he felt every time Nesta slept with someone else? Was this what Rhys felt while Feyre was still with Tamlin? I knew Azriel fancied Elain, and I knew it was reciprocated. So why did it hurt so much to see it now?

“Cass, he’s my—”

Mate. The word burned on my tongue. I couldn’t pronounce it.

With each time I thought about it, the word lost a bit more of its meaning. I damned the Cauldron and the Mother for mating us; it was supposed to be something special, something that didn’t happen to most Fae, and if it did you were one lucky bastard. Or at least that’s what I’ve heard. But for me? It meant nothing. The bond only brought me pain and unrequited feelings, unwanted feelings.

“I know, Rhys knows too,” he whispered.

“How?” I asked, blinking away the dampness in my eyes.

“It doesn’t matter now, dove, I need to know if you’re going to be ok” His eyes

were so gentle, so understanding.

I swallowed dry and nodded slowly. I remembered then that Lucien was looking for me and guilt tripped up my spine. How was I supposed to tell him what I saw?

“Cass, where is Lucien?”

“I told him you weren’t feeling right and sent him home. He left something for you.” Cassian handed me a carefully wrapped package. For the looks of it, it was either a box or a book.

“I have to talk to him.”

I tore open the envelope, it was an old beautiful book, brown and gold and red. “Myths of the world” read the title, the author unknown. I hadn’t seen anything like this before. It didn’t belong to Prythian, this book came from the mortal lands.

Lucien saw this book during one of his journeys, and thought of me. My heart felt heavy in my chest just thinking about the hurt I was going to cause him by speaking the truth about tonight.

“You can��t tell him anything, Y/N;” Cassian’s tone was considerate yet firm. I frowned.

“If it was the other way around he would tell me, Cass. He’s my friend…”

“I’m your friend too, and I understand, but I’m asking you to wait. Please, let Rhys handle this or it can get really messy.”

“Things are already too messy.”

With trembling fingers I dive between the first pages, it was a little worn around the edges but well kept, surely a loved book. One particularly page caught my attention, it had dedicatory written in very polished handletter:

“I don’t know if there’s proof of other worlds coexisting out there, but I hope you may find exciting ones within these stories.”

More often than not, Lucien caught me late at night curled around the fireplace, a blanket thrown lazily over my legs and nose buried deep in some book about portals to other worlds, myths and legends, the old history and so and so. That sort of thing that has always called to me since I was a kid, more than curiosity I felt a pull towards it, as if I could feel the history of the universe in my veins. I never told anyone about it before, it seemed silly, I didn’t have proof of anything, it was more like a sense of the otherworldly. I felt ancient and new, vast and empty, all at the same time. The last time I experienced something like that Feyre had still been pregnant with Nyx, I remember feeling like my mind had been split for a moment, allowing me to experience reality both through my own person and through someone or something else’s eyes. I ended up throwing up that night, and Azriel had found me passed out on the floor of the living room. No one asked any questions, but Lucien had noticed.

I sighed and closed the book, returning my attention to the worried-looking Illyrian in front of me. “He’ll hate me if he finds out and I knew all along. I can’t have him hate me, Cass.”

I can’t have him hate me too.

“He won’t hate you dove, that’s just impossible”.

I shook my head, “Can you just take me home please?”

“Of course,” He didn’t hesitate to scoop me up in his arms and take to the skies.

The wind whipped through the night sky as Cassian soared gracefully, his wings beating rhythmically against the air currents. Beside him, I clung tightly to his muscular frame, my grip tightened unconsciously with each passing moment. The journey back to the House of Wind was filled with a heavy silence, as I wrestled with the weight of my thoughts and emotions.

Finally, the grand structure came into view, perched majestically atop the cliffs. Cassian gently landed, his powerful wings folding behind him as he turned to face me. His cobalt eyes searched mine, brimming with concern and curiosity. He paused, probably sensing the turmoil underneath, and waited patiently for me to find the courage to speak.

With a heavy sigh, I took a step back and looked up at the towering residence. "Cassian," I started, voice tinged with a mix of determination and sadness, "I’m leaving the court. I've made a decision... I'm going to accept Helion's offer."

Cassian's brow furrowed, a mixture of surprise and worry crossing his features. He reached out, his hand finding mine in a reassuring grip. "Are you sure about this?" he asked, his voice laced with genuine concern. "You know the risks involved, the dangers that lie beyond our borders. The Night Court is your home, with friends who care for you."

My gaze followed the distant horizon, already feeling that curl of longing and uncertainty in my gut. "I understand the risks, Cass," I replied softly. "But I can't ignore the chance to make a difference, to find my own path and discover who I truly am, what I could do. I've always felt like I'm in the shadow of others, and maybe... maybe this is my opportunity to shine."

Cassian's grip on my hand tightened, his voice filled with earnestness. "You don't need to leave to find your purpose. You have friends here who believe in you, who will stand by your side no matter what. We can face the challenges together, as a family."

Tears welled in my eyes as conflicting emotions tugged at my heart. I wanted to believe in the strength of these bonds, in the safety and comfort of the Night Court. But a flicker of determination remained, whispering promises of self-discovery and growth. I looked back at Cassian, voice trembling but resolute. "I love you Cass, and I’m deeply grateful for everything the Night Court and all of you have given me, but I have to do this. Please understand."

Cassian's gaze softened, his thumb gently brushing away a tear that escaped my eye. He took a deep breath, his voice filled with unwavering support. "If this is truly what you want, then I won't stand in your way. But remember, you will always have a home in the Night Court, we will be here for you whenever you need us. And I can still kick Azriel’s ass for you."

He joked and a small smile broke through my lips despite the anguish. “I don’t want him to know, let’s just keep this between us for now, alright? I’ll tell Rhys tomorrow.”

“Alright.” He whispered and brushed a kiss to my temple.

We just stood there for a moment, embraced by the cool night breeze, letting all the events of the night sink in.

—-------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week later.

The frozen landscape stretched endlessly before our eyes, a harsh and unforgiving terrain that mirrored the tensions between me and the Shadow Singer. The mission to track down the slavers had brought us to this desolate place, where the biting cold seemed to seep into our very souls. Yet, it was the icy atmosphere between us that threatened to shatter the fragile alliance.

We hadn’t spoken a word since last Solstice’s party, and I hadn’t seen him around either. I still couldn’t shake the weight of that awful look he gave me that night, it didn’t help that he looked on the verge of ripping my head off. I just didn’t understand, we were sort of alright at some point and then he just went back to hating me, as if some switch had gone off inside of him.

As we trudged through the snow, our breath crystallizing in the frigid air, the silence grew heavy with unspoken accusations. I just couldn't bear the weight of Azriel's distrust any longer, it was making me anxious and angry. Whatever it was that got him so mad at me I didn’t deserve it, and we couldn’t keep working like that.

With each step, the tension escalated, until it reached a breaking point. Finally, unable to contain my frustration, I turned to face him, my voice came out laced with a mix of fury and hurt that I didn’t intend. "If you have something to say, just say it already and be done with this stupid silent treatment."

Azriel's expression hardened, his hazel eyes flashing with a mix of regret and stubbornness. "Why? so you can run and snitch to Rhys about it?"

My hands balled into fists, body trembling with indignation. "What the hell does that mean?” I hissed.

“You know what it means. I seriously thought about giving you a chance, that I may have judged you wrong. Then I turn around and you pull the bullshit you did on Solstice. I didn’t think you could stood so low as to drag Elain into this mess.”

“What bullshit? What are you even on about?”

“Don’t play dumb with me, you called Rhys on us. Are you going to tell me that it was all a coincidence? That you just happened to walk right into the room I was in with Elain, and Rhysand followed you? I see the way you look at her, are you really that envious?”

A humorless laugh escaped my lips, anger boiling in my veins. “Is this what got you so pissed? You are a bigger asshole than I thought. I didn’t even know you were in there, even less that you were with her. Do you think I give a fuck about who you’re fucking?You're always so quick to judge, to assume the worst of me. You know what? I'm done. Fuck you, Azriel!"

“You’re a cunning bitch, ever so observant, ready to pry into other people’s business; lying is like breathing for you, so why should I believe you? Why else would you happen to be there? Every time something goes wrong you’re in the middle of it!”

“Oh don’t try to blame me for your fuck ups, you dug that hole yourself. We were there because we were looking for you, because I wanted to give you this.” I shoved the little black box against his chest, hard. I had been carrying it with me since that night, its weight had been unbearable. “Happy Solstice, Azriel.” I spat with irony.

He just stood there, shoulders shaking with the effort of keeping his anger at bay, eyes glued to the object now lying in his hands.

Silence engulfed us once again as the bitter wind whistled through the barren landscape. Our breaths mingled with the frosty air, hanging between us like an unbridgeable chasm.

“What is this?” he finally dared to ask, his voice cold and calm, distant but not nearly as angry as before.

I cursed the slight tremor of vulnerability and turned away, already feeling a headache forming. "You can throw it away if you want, I don’t care. I’m going to scout the land, don’t follow me. And keep your shadows to yourself." My own voice came out barely above a whisper.

With that, I stormed off, leaving Azriel standing alone amidst the frozen wasteland. The ache of the fractured connection between us weighed heavily on my heart, mingling with the anguish of this mission and the bitter chill of the land. There was really no hope for us, to believe we could be friends again…that had been a foolish mistake.

For a long while I walked and walked and walked, there had been no sign of any other living creature in hours. The night was starting to grow heavy and the cold unforgiving, I could barely see anything beyond the frozen forest, the small faelight I brought with me doing little to light up the path but I couldn’t risk giving away my position. It felt like I had been walking around in circles, never finding the exit to the forest. I could’ve sworn I passed the same twisted tree four times now, it looked like a giant claw tearing open the ground. Maybe I shouldn’t have left on my own. I had a bad feeling about this, it was all strangely silent.

Just as I spotted a clearing, a familiar scent caught my attention. I haven’t felt that in nearly two centuries, but I remembered it like it was yesterday, sweet and strong and dangerous. My heart dropped to my stomach, and dread spread along my spine. It couldn’t be. He was dead. I had killed him.

All my alarms went off almost immediately, I turned the faelight off and walked as slowly, as silent as a wrath towards the clearing. I had to squint my eyes to adjust to night vision, avoiding the branches and bigger patches of snow. A dim light appeared on the other side of the woods, floating beside a big shadow. As I came closer I could make the shape of wings, huge membranous wings. I wouldn’t mistake those wings in a thousand years.

“Azriel?” I asked, low. Not entirely giving away my location still inside the forest’s safety.

His back was turned to me, and he was standing predatorily still. A glimpse of metal flashed in the dim moonlight, Truth Teller was clutched tightly in his right hand, something dark and sticky dropping to the snow. Blood. The copper tang of it hit my nose a second later. It smelled like him. Was he hurt?

I scanned the land beyond him, searching for the threat. If I had scented it earlier, probably he did too and found them sooner than I did.

“Azriel was going on?” I tried again, walking closer.

Past the shadows that engulfed him a figure lay on the ground, they were kneeling. There was so much more blood around them it was hard to tell if they were still alive. Whoever that was.

I stepped beside him, my own blade in hand, ready to strike if needed be. But what struck me was the sight in front of me, Azriel was kneeling on the frozen ground, wings dropped and bloodied, a gag was pulled tight against his mouth and his eyes were wide, desperate. He grew wild when he saw me, thrashing against an invisible barrier. I turned around, confused and alarmed. The Shadow Singer stared back at me, a sinister smile tugging at his mouth and he launched forward, shoving the blade between my ribs.

The Azriel on the ground tried to scream against the gag, eyes glazed over with rage. I wanted to reach him, free him from his restraints, but I couldn’t move. The male in front of me twisted the knife still inside my flesh and I let out a cry of pain. It burned like hell and I felt myself starting to get dizzy. Faebane, for sure.

Hazel eyes turned darker than the night itself, and that pretty face morphed into something half beautiful, half monstrous. Brutal and scarred. I watched in horror as the male of my nightmares appeared in front of me. Demian, Kier’s first born son, alive and here.

“Did you miss me, wife?” He purred into my ear.

“RHYS! RHYS!” I tried to desperately call for the High Lord, but the mental channels between us felt distant, my voice sounded like an echo traveling through a never ending tunnel.

I tried to take a step back but the world started to blur into darkness quickly. The last thing I saw was Demian’s monstrous face smiling down at me.

—--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Azriel.

The cavern was shrouded in darkness, its oppressive air thick with a sense of impending doom. The flickering light cast eerie shadows across the cold stone walls, as his eyes darted around, desperately searching for any means of escape. Azriel had been awake for a while now, heart pounding wildly against his ribcage at the scene in front of him; Y/N struggled against the coarse chains that bound her wrists, barely conscious due to the bloodlost.

He had never felt more helpless and stupid. He should have said something, apologize, go after her, make her stay. Azriel still couldn’t believe he fell into this motherfucker’s illusion, he should have known better. But it had been so real…the look of despair in her face, begging him to save her, as if Demian had known what she looked like, as if he had seen her like that before. Rage boiled in his veins. Oh, once he got free of this invisible prison he was going to kill him, and he was going to take his sweet time doing so.

"Azriel..." she whispered his name, her voice barely audible in the silence. The sound carried a mix of longing and worry, it made something crack inside his chest.

The heavy stone doors groaned open, revealing two figures emerging from the depths of darkness. Demian, a malevolent presence wrapped in darkness, stepped forward with an insidious smile, his eyes glittering with a sinister delight.

Azriel’s shadows were frantic, desperately trying to leak beyond the barrier holding him and reach Y/N, but it was no use. Even his siphons couldn’t break the spell containing him, the strange marks painted on the ground around him seemed to absorb every futile attempt of his power to set him free.

"Ah, Y/N, lovely to see you again", his voice dripping with malice. "We still have some unfinished business, darling."

Y/N narrowed her gaze, refusing to show her fear and spat on his face. “I don’t know how you’re still alive, but you’re as delusional as I remember.”

Demian's laughter echoed through the cavern, chilling her to the bone. In his hand, he brandished a wickedly sharp blade, the metal gleaming with malicious intent.

"Perhaps," he sneered, his voice laced with contempt. "But this time I’ll succeed, you’ll pay for what you’ve done, you and your stupid High Lord. There’s no escaping your fate this time."

A weak groan managed to escape Azriel’s bloody lips, and Y/N's eyes filled with dread as she spotted him, chained to a wall, his body battered and bloodied.

"Azriel!" she cried out, straining against her restraints. "Leave him alone!"

Demian's twisted grin widened, feeding off her anguish and desperation. "Oh, my dear," he taunted, his voice dripping with sadistic pleasure. "I plan to make him suffer just enough to ensure your compliance."

Tears welled up in her obsidian eyes as she watched Demian approach him, heart breaking at the sight of her mate's pain. Their connection, their bond, was just a whisper of strength and vulnerability.

"Do not yield, Y/N," Azriel's voice reached her, laced with pain but filled with unwavering resolve. "Don't let him break you."

“Enough!” The other presence in the room raised his voice as he approached the light. It was a dark haired male, tall and slim, a bit ungainly. His skin was a sickly grey-ish pale. Y/N’s eyes widened and tears started to flow freely down her cheeks at the sight of him. “Hello, sister. Long time no see.” He smiled wickedly at her as he anxiously played with the blade in his hands.

Azriel could recognise its signature darkness capable of absorbing even the light of the sun anywhere. Truth Teller. The bastard was holding his blade.

“Ajax…” she whispered, almost pleading.

“We thought you had killed yourself. Imagine my surprise when I saw you at war with Hybern,” Ajax let out a humorless chuckle. “tch, father is so disappointed in you, you made mama cry and all for this?” He pointed at Azriel, still fighting to get free. There was something animalistic and ferocious in his eyes as he watched Damien twist the blade into the membrane of his wings.

“Stop! Let him go. This is between me and you, he doesn’t have to be here.”

“Let him go? So you can pull the bullshit you did on your wedding night? I don’t think so. But you wouldn’t dare to do so now, no, you wouldn’t risk hurting your precious Shadow Singer.” He smiled mockingly and slid the sharp edge of Truth Teller along her jaw. “Pitty. You would’ve made such a pretty bride… isn’t that right Demian?”

Demian’s deformed mouth twisted upwards as he looked her up and down, something dangerous darkening his features. He grabbed her face, forcing her to look at him and ran a thumb over her lips. “You could have been my queen.”

She spat on his face again. “Go to hell.”

Ajax slapped her face. “You’ve always been an ungrateful bitch.”

Wiping his atrocious face clean, Demian stepped forward grabbing Truth Teller from Ajax hands. There was such hatred in their eyes. “Let’s get this over with.” He threw Azriel a wicked grin and slid the sharp edge across Y/N’s wrist.

The Shadow Singer watched with a mix of fury and desperation as the blade cut into her flesh, eliciting a tortured cry from her lips. He felt it too, the pain, as if it was his own flesh being torn open.

“I’LL KILL YOU!” Azriel’s threat echoed through the walls of the frozen cave.

They both laughed as they carved similar markings to the ones holding him prisoner into her skin. In her arms, her chest, her legs. She was just a playtoy for them to feed their morbidity.

There was so much blood everywhere. Demian’s filthy mouth closed around one of the wounds, drinking from her. Her blood, her power, her very essence, while Ajax recited something in a tongue Azriel couldn’t understand.

The Shadow Singer saw red. Something primal took over his senses, the urge to protect Y/N was stronger than anything, determination surged through his weakened body, and with every ounce of remaining energy, Azriel fought against his restraints. He summoned whatever hidden reserves of strength he possessed, his determination overriding the debilitating effects of the faebane. Sparks of raw power crackled around him as his unyielding rage fueled his desperate struggle for freedom.

Ajax's full black eyes fell on him, sensing the upcoming battle that was about to be unleashed upon them and slit open Y/N’s other wrist.

“Let’s go, we got what we need” He urged the blonde male beside him.

They retreated, disappearing into the shadows, leaving Y/N and Azriel gasping for breath, their bodies battered and broken.

As Azriel's body trembled with exertion, his relentless efforts finally bore fruit. With a surge of sheer willpower, the invisible barrier shattered like fragile glass, freeing him from its confinements. Gasping for breath, his eyes blazed with a mix of determination and wrath as he surveyed the now empty space where the two males had stood. He would hunt them down, to the ends of the earth if needed, to make them pay for what they’ve done; but first he had to take Y/N to safety.

He turned to face her; the anguish in her eyes mirrored his own, but their connection remained unbroken, he could still feel the sliver of hope amidst the darkness thrumming through that golden thread between their souls.

She held tight onto that bit of sanity left and muttered the words “I’m sorry” over and over again as her body started to give out.

Azriel’s whole body started shaking “No, no, no. Stay with me, I’ll get us out. I swear.”

He rushed to her side, untying her arms and cradling her face. He didn’t know what to do, he couldn’t winnow and his wings were too damaged to fly. At this point they needed a miracle, he wasn’t a devoted believer in the gods but he would pray to all of them to save her.

They lied there, in the ground, her face was drained of color and the unforgiving cold was not helping.

As if in answer to his silent prayers, the stone doors burst open, revealing the High Lord and the General of the Night Court in a state of utter distress. Azriel didn’t know when he had started crying but he let himself hold onto the tiny bit of hope that they might make it alive.

"Where are they?" Rhysand's voice boomed with unwavering authority, his power shimmering around him.

The shadow singer shook his head, Y/N was slipping away as they talked. “Please save her”

Rhysand rushed to their side, cradling her in his arms. Her heartbeat was too weak, her breathing labored. Azriel’s own consciousness was starting to flicker and he could feel the bond beginning to dim. Panic took over his senses, he started fighting against Cassian’s hold just to get to her.

“Az, it 's ok. We’ll meet them back at the House, she’s going to be fine.” Cassian assured him as he took to the skies.

And he would have believed him if it wasn’t for the exchange of worried looks that transpired between his brothers.

taglist:

@cmay25 @brekkershadowsinger @cosmic-whispers @h0peless-r0m4ntic888 @esposadomd @hannzoaks @tysynn @i-am-infinite @sevendeadlyshins-blog @angelshadowsinger @buckysimp101 @baebeepeach @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @leeknows-wife @k07-1313 @valeridarkness @fall-myriad @goradgirl @feiwelinchen @katherine-2007 @colorfulwinnerneva-blog @lillithathecat @j-pendragonx @ummmmmwat @eviepeo @thelov3lybookworm @emturtles @chillicrackers @bubybubsters @perseflowers @goldenmagnolias @littleshopofwhoress @galla-lotus @weirdo-fun @moonlwghts @t0uch-starved-h0e @wannabewolf @awkwardturtle365 @notbellasstuff @nastynesta

@nohxmanity @yasminsznn @thesnugglingduck @anniebannanie0315 @elsie-bells @highlady-ofillyria @kodokunarisu-blog @starksweasleymain

If I forgot about someone please let me know :) It won’t let me tag some of you I don’t know why :(

#azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel shadowsinger #azriel acotar #Azriel #acotar fanfic #acotar fanart #acowar #acotar #rhys acotar #cassian acotar

519 notes · View notes

g3z0 · 1 month

Text

Bathroom

Summary: You are friends with the triplets. Not Nick, tho. You can’t stand him. That doesn’t change that you have wet dreams of him. One night, at a party over the triplets house, your dreams become reality.

Warnings: cursing, SMUTTT, drinking,

This was so out of my comfort zone 😭

-g3z0

I‘ve known the triplets for a while now. I’m mostly friends with Chris and Matt. But Nick-

Oh Nick.

He makes my fucking blood boil.

Nick is stubborn and sassy. He can never shut the fuck up and he always has something mean to say.

A fucking brat.

He’s so fucking cocky but god- it makes me want to press my dick into his throat so he can’t talk anymore.

Of course he doesn’t know that. No one knows. The wet dreams I had about him and the moments where I look at his IG while I’m jerking off, remain for me alone.

It would push his ego too much. And it’s fucking weird if I think about it.

Im like always hanging out at their house. With his brothers. But still I can’t help it to imagine all those things with him. I keep it to myself - no harm caused. Right?

„Ohhh!“ Chris squeaks as the ping pong ball I just thrown, lands into one of the cup of the opposite team.

Matt lets out an annoyed groan, throwing his head back. „It’s no fucking fun to play with you.“ he sighs, looking back at me as he grabs the cup.

I let out a laugh and shrug with my shoulders „then learn how to play better.“ Matt rolls his eyes playfully and grabs the ball out of the cup before chugging the beer down.

Nate grabs the ball out of Matt’s hand and throws it to us. It lands into one of our cups and Matt throws his arms up „get his ass!“ he laughs.

„Ladies first.“ Chris grins as he nudges me with his Elbow. „Pussy.“ I mumble with a smile. I grab the cup and take the ball out of it before chugging the beer down.

I scrunch my nose a little and bring the cup down once I’m finished. The beer is warm and tastes disgusting.

My eyes meet the piercing blue ones of Nick - the ones I hate and adore at the same time. He gives me an amused smirk before he continues to talk to some twink.

„Im going to take a piss.“ I say to Chris while I’m handing him the ball in my hand.

He nods at me before going back to concentrate at our beer pong game. I turn around and walk into the hallway, to the bathroom.

I push the door handle down and press my weight against the wall but the door doesn’t move. Locked. I let out an annoyed sigh and walk up the stairs.

I grab onto the stair railing for support. Fuck, I need to slow down with the drinking. I blink my eyes for a few times and walk to the bathroom that’s upstairs.

I don’t bother to close the door behind me. I really don’t care right now. I take my piss and pull my jeans back up after.

I walk to the sink and turn the water on, washing my hands. I glare at the mirror in front of me.

Fucking hell, I just realize how drunk I actually am.

„Can’t you close the fucking door?“ I hear nicks voice. I look over my shoulder and see him standing in the door way, his arm crossed.

I smile to myself and turn the water off. „Can’t you ever shut up?“ I chuckle as I grab the towel next to the sink.

He hums in response and walks in, closing the door behind him. He leans his back and head against the wall. I hang the towel back next to the sink and look back up at him.

„don’t you need to go back to your little twink?“ I ask, leaning against the sink and crossing my arms in front of my chest.

He scoffs and tilts his head „don’t tell me you‘re jealous, y/n.“

Oh, fuck.

I give him a sarcastic smile and quint my eyes „funny.“

The corner of his lips turn up into a smirk. „oh, so you are?“ he asks as he pushes himself off the wall.

I roll my eyes „don’t flatter yourself, Nick.“ I say. He takes a step closer to me.

„tell me, y/n...“

Closer.

„do I make you nervous?.“

Closer.

I blink my eyes up at him and feel how my cheeks start to heat up as he stands in front of me. „What the fuck are you talking about?“ I breathe.

God, I hate how confident he is.

He licks his lips and smirks, leaning down to my ear. „y/n..“ he whispers.

His fingers graze my waist lightly up to my hips, causing my breathe to hitch. „You hate me, don’t you?“ he whispers.

I close my eyes for a moment „yeah..“ I breathe. He purses his lips and nods a little „then why aren’t you pushing me away?“ he whispers into my ear.

„I-" my breathe hitches again as he presses his knee between my legs, his thigh brushing by dick. „Hmm? What was that?“ he whispers, looking down at me.

I take a deep breathe. „Fuck off.“ I mumble. „Feisty, aren’t we?“ he chuckles. „Nick, for real, fuck o-" I let out a small whimper as he rubs his thigh against my bulge.

„your body is saying something different..“ he mumbles, looking down at his thigh and my dick.

I can feel myself getting harder and harder and I let out a shaky breathe. „Tell me to stop.“ he whispers against my neck before he starts to kiss it.

I press my lips together. „No?“ he smirks „you don’t want me to stop?“ His hand comes up to my waist. „Tell me you hate me..“ he whispers before he bites into my neck.

I close my eyes and clench my jaw „god- I fucking hate you..“ I mumble under my breathe.

„Atta boy..“ he smirks.

This is a dream. A fucking dream. This can’t be real.

I let out a pathetic whimper as he palms me through my pants with his hand. Painfully slow.

„Say please and I’ll do more..“ he whispers as he looks down at me. I grit my teeth together and shake my head, hanging my head down.

His other hand comes up to my chin and he lifts it, making me look back up at him. „no? Want me to stop?“ he says, palming me with more pressure.

„F-fuck..“ I breathe, closing my eyes. „Hmm?“ he hums, smirking at me. I lick my lips and nod quickly. „Please..“ I whisper.

Im weak. I tried to stay strong but I’m fucking weak for him.

„Please what?“ he asks, kissing my neck again.

This motherfucker.

I squeeze my eyes shut and press my hips against his hand, trying to cause more friction.

He grabs my waist with his hands and presses me back against the sink. „Don’t.“ he says. He looks back at me „please what?“ he repeats.

I take a deep breathe and close my eyes for a moment. „Anything, please..“ I mumble. He smiles in response and presses his lips against mine.

I breathe into the kiss, wrapping my arms automatically around his neck as we kiss. The kiss is passionate and sloppy and I can feel how my knees start to go weak.

„So needy..“ he mumbles between kisses and then he grabs me by my waist and turns me around. He presses himself against me and I can feel his bulge against my ass.

I let out a shaky breathe and lay my hands on the sink. „Tell me what you want..“ he whispers into my ear before he kisses my neck again.

„You..“ I breathe, closing my eyes and leaning my head back to give him more space.

I can feel him smiling against my skin before I feel his hands coming up to my pants, opening them and pulling them down. He does the same with his.

„You gotta stay quiet, can you do that for me?“ he asks. I nod quickly and press my lips together.

„Good.“ he smirks before he pulls my Boxershorts and his own down. He pulls me closer and adjusts his dick at my entrance. I bite my lip and look down.

I can’t believe this is happening. This isn’t real, it’s-

I let out a whimper caused of pain as he pushes himself into me. „F-fuck..“ I whine, squeezing my eyes.

„So thight, shit..“ he breathes. His lips find his way back to my shoulder and neck. „You okay?“ he asks.

I nod a little, taking a deep breathe. „M-mhm..“ I mumble. „Move..“ I whisper.

He nods a little and starts to move slowly and gently at first, but with every thrust he gets more rougher and faster.

I grab onto the sink, my knuckles turn white. „n-Nick, fuck..“ I moan. „Shh..“ he whispers, bringing his hand up to my mouth.

I moan against his hand and squeeze my eyes shut.

He lifts my head and I blink my eyes open, seeing the reflection of us in the mirror in front of us.

„look at you, saying you hate me and now moaning my name.“ he whispers into my ear before he thrusts deeper into me.

I whimper against his hand, squeezing my eyes shut again. „No, open your eyes, I want you to look at yourself while I fuck you.“ he demands before he presses a sloppy kiss along my jaw.

I try my best to follow his orders, trying to keep my eyes open while he fucks me.

I fail miserably, letting my head hang down and whining against his hand as he hits my G-spot repeatedly.

„Look at you or I’ll stop.“ he grunts against my neck.

„F-fucking bastard..“ I moan against his hand, bringing my head back up.

„What was that?“ he smirks as he looks into my eyes through the mirror reflection before he thrusts harder into me.

I let out a loud whimper and feel my knees go weak. „Mhm.. that’s what I thought.“ he pants as he digs his fingernails into my skin.

„Nick, fuck Nick-" I moan like a mess against his hand. „Shh- fuck, keep quiet..“ he moans softly before he leans his forehead against my back.

He brings his other hand up to my dick, stroking it. I squeeze my eyes shut and grab onto his arm. „S-shit-" I let out a muffled moan.

He turns my face towards him and presses his lips against mine. I whine into the sloppy, wet kiss.

I can feel my dick starting to twitch and I dig my fingernails into his arm. „C-close, fuck-" I moan between kisses.

He strokes my dick faster till I come all over his hand. He pulls away from the kiss and stops moving. I breathe heavily and swallow, trying to catch my breath.

He brings one hand back to my waist and with the other he presses my back down, bending me over the sink.

„Im not done yet.“ he mumbles before he starts to thrust into me again.

„Nick- f-fuck“ I whimper as I hang my head down.

I feel his hand coming up to my hair before he grabs lightly on it, pulling my head back.

I let out a whine and press my lips together as I feel how tears start to fill my eyes.

„So good for me..“ he pants as he thrusts deeper into me.

Im a moaning mess, feeling how tears run down my cheeks cause of the overstimulation.

I can feel him twitch in me and he thrusts a few times more till he pulls out and finishes over my back.

He pants heavily and lets go off my hair, leaning his forehead against my back. He catches his breathe slowly and turns me around.

„You good?“ he asks softly. I swallow and lean my head onto his shoulder. „Y-you ruined my shirt..“ I mumble.

He lets out a laugh „I just fucked you senseless and now you have an attitude again?“ I let out a weak scoff.

„You can borrow one of mine.“ he mumbles. I bring my head back up and look at him. „Matt and Chris will notice..“ I say.

He raises his eyebrows and shakes his head „they are too drunk to notice, trust me.“

#sturniolo triplets #nick sturniolo #nicolas sturniolo #chris sturniolo #christopher sturniolo #matt sturniolo #nick sturniolo x reader #sturniolo triplets x reader #nick sturniolo x you #nick x reader #dom!nick sturniolo #sturniolosmut #nicksturniolosmut

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wri0thesley · 6 months

Text

protection - lucas (yandere oc) x reader (5.3k)

halloween has always been your favourite holiday. with your captor, though . . . perhaps not so much.

a/n: if i cannot be self-indulgent and write a fic about my cannibal murderer yandere oc for halloween when he is such a horror pastiche of a man, when can i? if you would like a primer on lucas, reading this is probably the best thing to do!

cw: yandere, cannibalism, kidnapped reader, descriptions of gore, non-explicit mentions of past dub-con/non-con.

Lucas has one of those perpetual calendars upon his mantelpiece.

You’ve never had much cause to look at it before. It’s another of those mix-and-match décor pieces that are so prevalent in the cabin; a boring block of wood and blocky white font that you suppose someone might describe as ‘minimalist’. It’s certainly not something you’d choose for yourself – and from what you’ve seen of Lucas’s own choices, his clothing, the items he gravitates towards in his little slice of home, it’s not something he’d have chosen either. Had it not, perhaps, been chosen by someone else.

You ignore the way your gorge rises when you consider that it’s one more piece of somebody who must be long dead by now. Lucas’s cabin is full of those reminders; embroidered tablecloths (your own hands are not so steady), handmade blankets (the wool used makes you itchy), clothes in the wardrobe three sizes too small and two sizes too big. A bookshelf of tattered paperbacks; crime novels and romance novels and horror novels, an eclectic mix you can’t imagine belonging to the same person.

That’s not important.

What is important is the morning after breakfast, when Lucas and you have gone out to collect eggs already and he’s held onto your waist while you carefully fried them along with the something-that-might-be-bacon that you’re growing more and more accustomed to cooking.

(It doesn’t even make you throw up any more).

He’s casual as he walks over to it; you’ve never really paid much attention to it before. It’s simply one of those rituals that he does; he likes the domesticity of a daily routine, and though you’ve always been rather more spontaneous . . . You’re hardly in a position to argue about it.

He moves the cube around and you glance vaguely towards it and you see the month and date, clear and bright as if illuminated by a shaft of sunlight.

The thirtieth of October.

You stop breathing, just for a moment. It’s been three months, then – time had lost meaning for you somewhat, after you’d realised you had no choice but to play along if you wanted to keep yourself away from the sharp end of an axe. But . . . three months. Three months of smiling nicely and forcing your mouth around the name ‘darling’ and letting his weapon-calloused hands curl about your waist, slide over bare skin. Three months of making yourself smile, of showering with a stranger in the bathroom (three months and he is still a stranger, though you suppose you know him intimately; three months, though, and you still do not know his surname), of sleeping beside him at night--

“I love Halloween.”

You don’t realise you’ve said it until it comes out of your mouth like the dry squeak of a frightened mouse.

Lucas looks up in surprise. You don’t often volunteer information readily; you answer his questions, but otherwise you’re a quiet obedient little home-maker for him, the way you think he likes you. That’s not to say you think he’d mind, but . . . you still keep some of yourself held close to your chest. You share hearth and home and body with Lucas; you think you’ve earnt the right to not have to share everything.

“S’that so?” He rumbles, after a moment. He doesn’t smile, the way he does when you tell him that you like the present he’s brought you back from town or when you let slip once that the western film he’d been watching on VHS reminded you of your childhood. “I’ve never been all too fond of it myself.”

His green gaze stays steady on you. He lets the moment stretch, waiting for your answer. You are walking a tightrope, as always; there is a right answer, you think, and a wrong answer. Which one are you supposed to pick? You’ve seen Lucas angry – that smouldering, teeth-grit explosion when he’d caught you, early on, trying to open a window.

(You’d sobbed and promised, sworn on everything you loved, that you just wanted some fresh air – that the August air was stuffy and pressing. Enough tears, and Lucas had repented, finally, drawn back his blistering anger. Calloused thumb wiping your tears away and a gruff apology, followed by; “Aww, darlin’, don’t cry like that. C’mon now.”

Followed by kissing your eyelids. Followed by the press of his body upon yours. Followed by hands on your hips, thumbs digging into your thighs to part them. Followed by him murmuring for you to cry for a different reason.

He likes the tears. It’s a good lesson to learn so early on in your life with him).

You shrug helplessly.

“I like the atmosphere?” You give him, your voice quavering at the end. “All of those kids in cute costumes, jack-o’-lanterns, cuddling up warm and cosy on the couch with a scary film on--”

His shoulders relax minutely, and he lets out a breathy chuckle.

“Yeah,” he says to you. “I s’pose those things ain’t so bad. I’m not a scary movie guy – there’re enough things to be frightened of out there in the real world, y’know?” He walks towards you, joins you on the couch. His arm wraps around your shoulder and you let yourself be drawn into his embrace, because you risk upsetting the balance again if you shy away. With a sigh of pleasure, he drops a kiss onto the top of your head. “Gets real busy up here around this time. Trespassers. I prob’ly won’t even be around mosta the night; gotta patrol the area. Think we can rustle you up a pumpkin and a coupla’ videos though, huh?”

You swallow. You know what he means by ‘patrol the area’ – you think of teenagers in local towns, daring each other to spend the night in the woods. You think about twenty-somethings with their tents and their camping and coolers full of beer, telling spooky stories about huge cannibals who live in the woods--

You think of Lucas’s weapons, the axe shining bright mounted on the wall, and the sound it had made as it had thwacked into the ground beside your head as Lucas had realised you were trembling and whimpering and sobbing and merely lost, not some ne’er-do-well out here for any other reason.

How much fuller will his freezer be, come the first of November?

He’s true to his word, as he so often is. Despite everything, he looks at you hopefully when he presents to you the things he brings back from his little foray into town; his head cocked, an echo of the earnest young man he might once have been beneath the scars and the greying.

He presents to you: one large pumpkin, three VHS tapes of movies you haven’t heard of that look like schlocky 90s B-movies, a multi-pack of sweet treats obviously intended to be poured into a bowl for trick or treaters, and a bean-filled plush of a fat black cat.

“I thought we could carve the pumpkin together,” he says, which you think is just an excuse not to leave you unsupervised with sharp implements. He trusts you to cook, now – but he still likes to be in the room, even if he’s not guiding your hand with his fingers entwined around your own over the knife.

“That would be nice,” you cautiously reply, and he smiles at you all soft and gooey-eyed. Your spine still feels like a rod has been shoved in it; being around Lucas can so often seem like a balancing act, and normally he does not come back from town in anything resembling a good mood. But giving you presents and the pleasure that had sparked in your eyes and the truth tinging your thanks have clearly set him well for the evening; he’s whistling as he rattles around in the kitchen to find the implements.

“C’mon here then, angel,” he calls, and you tuck the fat little black cat into the corner of the couch - it will be nice, you suppose, to have something to hold when you are alone later. You doubt the movies will provide much in the way of stone-cold terror, but the knowledge that Lucas is out there stalking the night and it would not take all that much for him to turn his rage on you certainly does.

It will be nice, too, to have something to hold that is yours and is not haunted by the echo of ghosts of Lucas’s past. Once, you had been uncomfortable in bed, rolling and writhing and whimpering through a nightmare – and Lucas had gently shaken you awake and placed a bear into your arms you had never seen before.

You might not have ever seen the bear before, but it had clearly once been loved; visible stitches re-attaching an ear, the velvet flocking rubbed off on its nose, the fur compacted from many nights of cuddling.

You try not to think about someone else, after you, having the little cat placed delicately in their arms.

When you enter the kitchen, you see that Lucas has spread newspaper out all over the floor, placing the pumpkin carefully in the middle with an array of carving implements and pens laid out for you. There’s a waiting candle and a box of matches on the table, waiting for the final touch.

The newspapers are all nearly twenty years old. The matches have packaging you’ve never seen before, the kind of retro artwork you’d see hipsters hang ironically on their apartment walls.

You crouch to get onto the paper he’s laid out, but Lucas clicks his tongue in annoyance at you.

“C’mon, sweetheart,” he says, and he pats his knee where he’s knelt with them spread apart. “Come sit between my legs and let’s do it together.”

It takes you a moment to gather the courage to do it – touching him voluntarily is always harder than when he makes the first move – but you see that shimmer of frustration in the air, the imperceptible twitch of his jaw, and you clumsily climb over to situate yourself between them. You feel him let out a satisfied exhale as one of his arms wraps around your waist possessively.

“There,” he murmurs, directly into your ear. “Ain’t that better? More . . . cosy?”

You can feel every hair on the back of your neck, the thrum of your heartbeat, as Lucas’s hand fastens over yours and works at removing the top of the pumpkin. His chest is solid behind you, a barrel of muscle and scar – and when he shifts, and his crotch in his fatigues snugly presses against the curve of your spine, it takes all of your grace not to whimper at the feel of him hot and wanting.

Domesticity always seems to stoke something in him – and you suppose this would, under other circumstances, be a perfectly lovely Halloween evening. If Lucas were somebody you loved, and not a madman who kidnapped you from the middle of the woods. If that were so, Lucas’s breath against your ear wouldn’t make your head pound – his calloused fingers over yours wouldn’t make you wonder how he got all of those scars. The sight of a sharp instrument in his hand wouldn’t make you wonder how many have met their maker at Lucas’s behest.

There is none of the joy you would normally find in this activity, doing it with Lucas’s arm around you and his body bearing down over yours. There’s instead, the knowledge that he could break your bones if he wanted to – and a desire beating at your ribcage to get this over with as quickly as possible without alerting him to how much you hate it. Lucas hums softly under his breath as he helps you scoop out the insides of the pumpkin--

You feel your gorge rise at the sight of his hands scooping out the insides alongside your own, at the sensation of the stringy sticky pulp and seeds as they coat your fingers. The viscera of the pumpkin, laid out on the newspaper, as if some grisly crime has occurred right here in Lucas’s cosy cabin kitchen.

(He doesn’t like a mess inside the house. You know about the storeroom that you’re not allowed in, having peeked in it once when he’d left the door ajar to go and pick some meat up for breakfast whilst you stood in the kitchen with the chickens pecking around your feet. When he’d come out and seen you there, you’d stammered something about Dolly the silkie having wandered off – and though there’d been mistrust in his gaze, you’d kept your eyes wide and hidden trembling hands behind your back and eventually he seemed to have believed you).

The flash of a sharp knife in his hand makes you start against your will, your back pressing against him, your rear pushing into him. He lets out a noise that’s half a strangled huff and half a breathy chuckle.

“What’re you scared of, angel?” He murmurs, and you are stiff and frozen as he gently, gently, presses the flat of the blade against the palm of your other hand. “I won’t ever hurt you. Not less you give me a reason to. And you aren’t gonna, are you?” You’re glad he can’t see the deer-in-headlights look on your face, even as you give him a jerky shake of your head, and to your immense relief returns the knife to carving. “Good. Hurts my feelings thinkin’ you’re afraid of me.”

You don’t know how to respond to that.

“I—I’m not?” You guess, stammering it out, trying to weigh out all of the options in your mind. If he was threatening you – one of those late night murmurs of “I’d break you into pieces if you ever tried to leave me, darlin’,” - then perhaps you wouldn’t have said it. But right now, he is pretending the two of you are a perfectly ordinary couple doing a perfectly ordinary thing, and so--

He laughs again, good-naturedly pressing a kiss to the top of your head. The pumpkin has taken shape now; a classic jack-o’-lantern face, jagged triangular eyes and teeth.

“You’re so cute,” he says into your hair. “Here. Look at that. Ain’t that adorable?”

Shakily, you nod. It’s not your best work – in your own kitchen, at home, you’d mastered the art of silhouetting elaborate scenes in your pumpkins. You’d used your favourite horror stills as inspiration (you force yourself not to think of last year’s pumpkin, of spending so much time carefully carving that iconic scene from the Texas Chainsaw Massacre into the orange flesh, Leatherface holding his chainsaw aloft – it’s better not to dwell too much on fictional monsters when there’s a very real one sitting behind you, holding you close, pressing a kiss to your cheek and resting his chin on your shoulder as he admires your handiwork).

This pumpkin is a little lop-sided; one eye bigger than the other, the cuts jagged and messy. But Lucas is smiling at it, and you force yourself to smile too.

“Where shall we put it?” He asks you, as he pulls himself up and offers you a hand to help you too. He’s a little too rough with it; pulling you against him with a throaty chuckle as you stumble, off-balance. Little reminders of your own fragility, your clumsiness and all of the things you struggle with always seem to put him in a good mood. “Windowsill?”

You swallow.

“C-can we put it outside?” You whisper, softly. “I know we won’t get any trick-or-treaters, or anything, but . . .”

You trail off; he’s looking at you again, the green in his gaze impossible to understand. He might be thinking about exploding into anger, he might be thinking about kissing you – but as you feel your knees threaten to knock together, he smiles instead.

It’s another smile that, on someone else, you would read as utter infatuation. Love, in all of its gooey, saccharine sweetness. On Lucas, though--

“Of course, darlin’,” he says. “Come put it out with me.”

You reach for the box of matches, but Lucas’s palm comes down over your hand before you can get a hold on them.

“Don’t worry your pretty little head about that,” he says, as he picks it up himself, and strikes a match against the striker strip. You flinch at the sudden light, and Lucas makes a soft noise of satisfaction. “You'daa just hurt yourself. Leave this kinda thing to me, sweetheart.”

He lights the candle and places it in the lantern himself, before he turns to you and gives you an indulgent smile again.

“D’you think you can carry it?” He asks you, voice soaked in honey. “Don’t drop it, now.”

You nod shyly as you take it, hating yourself for playing along with him. If he wants a sweet, naive little thing who can barely take care of themselves and needs the big strong hunter in the woods to do it for them . . . well, you suppose your dignity isn’t so bad a price to pay for staying alive.

You are allowed out of the cabin, supervised. You’d earnt that right by being sweet and soft and obedient, by doing what Lucas asks and doing it the way he likes. You go out to collect eggs in the morning and you’re allowed to help him in the garden, planting vegetables and tending to those he already has. But still, every time you open the front door it feels like a treat – a thrill running through you at the reminder that there is a world beyond the four walls of home that have become your prison.

Lucas takes in a hissing sigh through clenched teeth as he opens the door.

“It’s getting’ later than I thought,” he says, to himself more than you. “I’m gonna have to get goin’ soon, sweetheart.”

You nod, and carefully place the pumpkin by the front door, where the candle inside flickers and wavers in the light breeze. You find yourself wishing that it would somehow escape its own cell of pumpkin flesh and set the cabin afire – wondering if it would really be so bad, to perish like that.

(How many more Halloweens will you spend with Lucas? Is it worse if the number is small or large?)

“Do you have to go?” You ask him, voice tremulous.

You don’t know if you want him to go. You don’t want to be with him; he terrifies you, leaves you feeling rattled and confused and conquered all at once, his presence looming over everything you do. But at the same time – you can’t in good conscience want him to go out there, to cut down Halloween revellers who merely thought the woods would be a good place for a spooky experience. Are you far enough away from wherever he might go that you won’t hear the screams?

You wouldn’t be able to pretend even if you don’t hear them. You’ll meet them later on, at the end of your fork.

“Awww darlin’,” Lucas simpers at you, grasping your chin in a hold like iron. “Don’t worry your pretty head about it, I told you. I ain’t gonna let a single thing near this cabin; you ain’t gonna be in a jot of danger. I promise.”

Your face must betray your anxiety, because Lucas tugs almost painfully on it.

“Don’t you trust me, angel?”

Sickly sweet and bladed like ice, you mutely twitch your head in a meek nod.

“Of course I do . . .” You whisper, and Lucas smiles in satisfaction.

“Stay here at the door for a bit while I get ready, okay? Fresh air’ll make you feel better.”

Unspoken goes the ‘don’t you dare try and run’. You can’t see yourself doing it tonight of all nights, either – though Lucas has been sweet throughout the pumpkin carving, you can already see that as he considers the blanket of night out beyond the cabin he is shifting into a predator. So you stand there, breathing in deep, slow, controlled breaths. Trying to think about how pretty the stars are and the candy that Lucas has brought you to eat in front of his crackling old television. Trying not to hear the thud of Lucas’s boots and the sound of him getting down the axe from the wall, the swish of the displacement of air as he gives it a few practise swings.

“There we go,” Lucas says, as he comes back. His axe is slung over one shoulder, and he’s smiling at you. He hasn’t made a single allowance for the cold; he wears the same shirt in a shade of forest green, straining tight over his shoulders and biceps. The silvery skin of his scars shine in the moonlight. “Don’t stay up for me, okay? Get yourself to bed. I’ll try not to wake you up.”

(Will you wake up, hearing him drag a corpse into the store-room? It doesn’t matter – you know you won’t get much sleep tonight).

He stands there in front of you for a long moment. Anxiety sends a bead of sweat rolling down the nape of your neck. He’s waiting for something – he wants something, and you don’t know what it is, and he’s going to be angry at you for being a bad beloved and he’s going to lodge that axe in your skull--

“Don’t I get a kiss goodbye?”

His tone is teasing, but laced with simmering anger. Grateful he has thrown you a lifeline, you practically trip over your tongue as you reply in the affirmative.

One slow, lingering kiss – possessive. You’re shivering as he pulls away, and he smiles as he wipes his thumb over the corner of your mouth with something that might be fondness and might be triumph, like a hunter who has his prey cornered.

“See you later,” he says. “Don’t scare yourself silly, now.”

You stand at the door-frame, waiting for Lucas’s hulking figure to disappear into the darkness of the trees. His axe is swung over his broad shoulders. The jack-o’-lantern beside you flickers and gutters in the breeze, your only companion out here. Lucas turns and waves one hand at you, and then makes a very firm ‘shoo’ gesture that you interpret to mean ‘that’s enough, now. Get back in the house before I make you’.

You close the door behind you and turn the key as he disappears fully from your view. You’ve always felt awkward being alone in the cabin – about three weeks after your arrival here, he had given you heavy warnings and set out to the nearest town for the kind of supplies he couldn’t make himself – but tonight, it feels all the worse.

You jump at shadows and feel like you hear screams with every footstep, your brain already playing out thoughts of Lucas in the woods surrounded by corpses, bloodied and grinning and feral-bright. You have to try twice to get the video into the player, and your hands are trembling as you attempt to open a packet of M&Ms and spill them all over the sofa. You pull the curtains closed for full immersion and almost give yourself a heart attack when you see light flickering outside, until you remember the jack-o’-lantern.

Eventually, though, you do relax into the movie.

It helps that it’s a movie about a werewolf stalking a suburban town; you don’t know if your nerves would hold out if Lucas had brought you some kind of killer in the woods movie. Even he, though, seems to have realised that – a quick glance at the other movies show you that one is about giant bugs attacking and the other is set in a hospital.

It’s not a good movie. In a different lifetime, you’d watch this with friends and laugh and joke over the cheesy special effects and the over-acting. On your own, though, you at least feel somewhat comforted by the familiarity of the horror recipe. The coquettish blonde in the hot pink outfit will die first; the outcast girl in her too-big denim jacket will survive to the denouement and will perhaps kill the werewolf herself.

There’s a sound from outside.

You’re half-asleep in front of the sagging middle act of the movie, but the crunch of leaves under feet has you bolt upright. Lucas can’t be home already, can he?

Time stands still. There’s a muffled giggle, and then a low voice murmuring something. You slowly, slowly, pull yourself up from the couch. You’re grateful to have pulled the curtains closed. At least they can’t tell you’re in here.

A hundred scenarios run through your head, none of them ending well. You think of every home invasion movie in a holiday home in the middle of nowhere you’ve ever seen. You could laugh at the absurdity of dying like that, when you’re literally the prisoner of some cannibal psychopath already . . . all of that, and some other horror trope catches up with you instead?

Three knocks on the door, and a voice jokingly calls;

“Trick or Treat!”

Oh, saying all of that stuff to Lucas about trick or treating was so stupid. Wanting a pumpkin out there so you could pretend to have one little bit of normalcy left in your life.

A rumble of conversation floats through the walls; something about a dead phone battery, needing to find somewhere with a landline, a map that didn’t seem to have any of the landmarks they’d seen marked on it.

(You can sympathise with that; the map you’d been using, once upon a time, hadn’t made a single lick of sense after you’d gotten into the heart of the woods, like some nature spirit was messing with you).

But that could just be a way to make your defenses fall, you think. You’ve seen that in movies time and time again – I need the bathroom, I need to use your phone, I’m sorry I fell over and I’m injured can I rest here--

One of them has the nerve to try the door; the key jingles traitorously in the lock.

You’re shaking as you approach. You can hear conversation now; a male voice and a female voice, arguing. They sound about your age.

“There’s a fucking jack-o’-lantern burning, and there’s a key in the front door, of course someone’s in--”

“Look, this is some horror movie bullshit, I don’t like it--”

“Do you think anyone keeping fuckin’ . . . those fluffy-ass chickens is gonna be a murderer? C’mon. It’s probably some old couple with their hearing going. I’m gonna knock again--”

Three raps on the door and you find yourself collapsed against the cabin wall, your knees trembling. You know you should answer the door and you should tell them what’s going on here. You should beg them to run and take you with them.

But now you’re faced with it, you don’t know what to do.

“Hello?” The girl’s voice is louder now. “Is anyone home?”

Oh, she shouldn’t be shouting. Lucas can hear when you drop a fork doing the washing up from halfway across the yard, and always comes hurrying to make sure you haven’t hurt yourself.

“Look,” the boy, “We just need to use your phone, we’re lost—”

Another voice cuts across the squabbling – one deeper and darker and grittier. A thick Southern accent.

“You sure as hell are,” it says, and there’s outright hate in it. “What the fuck do you think you’re doin’ on my property?”

The girl screams. You can’t blame her; at six foot four and bound in scars and muscle, Lucas is a frightening prospect at the best of times. But when he’s appeared from nowhere, holding his axe, like a horror movie villain . . .

“Shit!” The boy is swearing. “Look, man, I’m sorry, I didn’t--”

You do not see the axe come down – how could you, from the hallway, behind the door? But you hear two screams, this time – both his and hers – and you hear the wet sound of something sharp meeting something soft. Blade striking bone – the slick noise of an axe blade being pulled out of a body and then swung back in. The sound of someone choking on blood, of someone sobbing--

You don’t know how long it goes on for. Your knees give out long before the girl gives up on screaming, as you sink onto the floor and hug yourself tight and squeeze your eyes shut against the noises.

It could last forever. You try and think of something else; somewhere happier. What would you be doing right now, if you were at home? How different would your October have been?

But the slosh of blood and the hacking noise of blade and flesh worm into your consciousness, the very real massacre going on outside the front door seeping into every memory you try and recall. Your pumpkins smashed to pieces, accusing staring eyes of the corpses of your friends at last year’s Halloween party as a man with an axe mows them down in your living room--

The noises have stopped. There’s not even heavy breathing, now.

“Darlin’?” Lucas calls out, from behind the door. “C’mon. I know you’re there. You can open the door now. You’re safe.”

You can’t disobey him, you remember, as you shakily climb back to your feet, using the wall as leverage. If you don’t do as he says, then you will also meet the business end of his weapon – and he’s already said, in those jealousy-fuelled threats that he whispers into your hair at the most intimate of moments, that for your betrayal, he’d make it hurt.

You turn the key with a trembling hand, and have to force your fingers to close around the door handle. Slowly, slowly, you pull it open--

The front porch is a mess of blood and flesh and organs and other things you carefully do not look at. These people have been butchered for more than just meat – but you look up at Lucas’s eyes instead and ignore them. You can’t think too hard on it.

There are splashes of blood all over his face, flecks of red in his stubble. His clothes are ruined.

“You’re safe now,” he murmurs, and he steps forward and the tang of blood invades your mouth and your nostrils and gets on your clothes as he pulls you into a tight embrace. “Don’t worry. I told ya’, I won’t let nothin’ happen to you. Not tonight, not ever.”

He says it like this poor lost couple were a threat, and not just unfortunates who happened upon the wrong woods at the wrong time. The wrong house.

(If you hadn’t put that pumpkin out, they wouldn’t have thought that there was anyone here. It’s your fault.)

His grip around you is tight. You squeeze your eyes shut and bury your face in his chest for a moment, and try to pretend nothing has happened.

It can’t last. Lucas pulls back, takes hold of your shoulders.

“Well?” He says – and bile rises in your throat as you realise you have to say it. You have to do it. If you want to stay on his good side--

“Thank you,” you breathe out, hating yourself for every syllable. “Thank you for taking care of me.”

And as you stretch onto your tiptoes and Lucas bends down to meet your lips for a thank you kiss, you pretend that there aren’t two corpses outside of the front door.

You carved a pumpkin. You ate candy. You watched a shitty horror movie. It’s like every Halloween before it--

He pulls back; a hand ruffling through your hair, a smile on his face.

“Happy Halloween, darlin’. You get back inside while I clean this up, okay? Night ain’t over yet.”

#yandere oc #writing #ocs.txt #oc posting #yandere for ts #cannibalism for ts #dub con for ts

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underdark-dreams · 5 months

Note

yooo i love ur writings sm dude! thank u for providing the MUCH needed and appreciated rolan n dammon food ! if ur still accepting and willing to write for a more masc reader, would u do hcs with rolan (and/or dammon, idc :>) with a top/dom inclined reader? :]

BLESS your patience, anon! I got lost in writing a smut fic for this request this week. But you asked for headcanons, so it doesn't feel fair to make you keep waiting! In thanks, please expect a Rolan x m!Tav oneshot soon. 🖤

Rolan x top/dom M!Reader: Relationship Headcanons

[SFW + NSFW both under the cut]

SFW

This wizard has a serious case of oldest sibling disorder

Rolan can be downright bossy, because a lot of his self identity rests on feeling powerful and in control of things

On a deeper level, Rolan is just used to being the one taking care of the people he loves. Having the scenario flipped—being taken care of for once—it throws him off balance

Falling for a guy who takes the lead and takes initiative might honestly cause Rolan a mild identity crisis without him realizing. He’ll deny the feelings for a week or two, stewing and blushing and unintentionally broadcasting his crush to anyone around him

This was not the plan. So why does he keep daydreaming about you picking him up princess style and tossing him down onto your bed

Inside Rolan’s dying to get swept off his feet and lavished, he just doesn’t know it yet

Maybe it finally clicks for him the first time you pull Rolan close and murmur all your appreciation into his pointed ear

Rolan is so weak for praise and so, so hungry for it, especially from you

He can’t help but melt inside when you tell him how good he is, how clever and competent, how much he deserves to feel incredible and how much you’d enjoy being the one to make him feel that way

Kiss him afterward and feel Rolan whimper softly against your mouth as he goes a bit limp in your arms. He’s entirely yours

He’s not only falling in love with you, he’s discovering a whole side of himself he never gave himself time or permission to explore

But you? You make him feel loved and completely safe

Rolan will occasionally come to you to pout or complain about trivial things, just to get a kiss and hear you assure him you’ll take care of it for your sweet little mage

He’s still flustered by how much he enjoys it at first, even more so when he feels himself flush and stiffen under his robes

Rolan also becomes addicted to the feeling of being wrapped up in your arms

Your arm draped on his shoulder: your hands looped around his waist to keep him tucked in close while you’re kissing: and especially your forearms caging him in against the wall while you grind against each other

Rolan’s still proud, so it’s not easy for him to admit or ask for these things out loud unless you’re alone

But even in a public setting, he will sometimes appear close beside your shoulder and glance over at you with a wordless request that means please hold me a bit, I’m tired/lonely/needy for you

If you don’t notice fast enough, Rolan might softly brush your hand or loop his tail low around your calf to get your attention. You’re the one who awakened these feelings in him, and by the hells he’s not going to be ignored now

Face it: you have unleashed needy sub Rolan upon yourself, you’ll just have to dom up and deal with the consequences

NSFW:

When you’re fucking him, Rolan can be somehow vulnerable and teasing/demanding all at the same time

Old habits die hard…so might Rolan if you don’t give him what he needs

Rolan knows the right word from you or the right gesture pinning his wrist or thigh can get him dangerously close to losing it, and some nights that makes him feel rebellious

He has a smart mouth even in bed, and provoking you excites him sometimes

‘Gods, I bet I can finish myself before you do—’ Rolan’s grip closes around his own hard cock as your slickened fingers gently and slowly prepare him

Other nights he has absolutely zero fight in him. Just a soft pile of Tiefling clinging to the man he loves as he kisses across your shoulders, asking you to take him while you tell him that he’s more than good enough

Rolan may try to hide it (that or he’ll make zero effort), but he’s weak for any time you order him around or direct him

‘Get on your hands and knees’ ‘Spread for me like a good boy, Rolan’ ‘Stop biting your lip or I’ll bite it for you—go on and let everyone hear who makes you feel this good, that’s it—’

It all gets him so needy for your cock that he can’t say no to any of it until you’re filling him

His favorite positions are usually the ones that let him hold onto you for even more closeness—missionary, against his desk in the Tower, etc.

Of course, those don't give him a chance to hide his reactions from you, so you’ll occasionally see him blush dark or squeeze his eyes shut or bite back the sounds you coax out of him

Alternatively: just tell Rolan he thinks too much and fuck him into his mattress so hard he can’t think about anything else at all including his own ego

The way he clutches your shoulders for dear life and pants your name will let you know how much Rolan loves it (and you)

#smut #nsft #rolan bg3 #bg3 rolan #rolan #rolan x reader #bg3 rolan x reader #if there is other interest for dammon i am open!#bg3 spoilers #bg3 headcanons #bg3 smut #bg3 fic

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bardraelyn · 5 months

Text

A Thing About Snakes (and Swords)

Snakes don’t have eyelids.

They have a thin membrane that protects their eyes, but it’s translucent, so they can never fully close them.

When Crowley Fell, his eyes were completely and permanently opened to the horrors of Heaven and Hell. Unlike Aziraphale, he is incapable of being oblivious, of engaging in denial.

Crowley’s symbol is a snake because he (metaphorically) cannot close his eyes; he cannot fail to see the truth of matters.

And that, more so even than the Fall and subsequent torture in Hell, has caused him to become jaded.

He doesn’t want that for Aziraphale.

He wants Aziraphale to see the truth, but he doesn’t want to see him broken by it the way Crowley was. And that’s why he goes to such lengths to protect Aziraphale in ways that almost certainly harm him and definitely keep him from learning the full truth of what Heaven is about.

But these lengths also harm their relationship, because Crowley doesn’t tell Aziraphale things he needs to know, yet expects Aziraphale to understand things he could not possibly understand without that missing information.

That’s what makes Crowley’s “I think I understand better than you do” so painful. It’s an assertion, but it’s also an acknowledgment. He knows he’s been holding Aziraphale back—he cannot fail to see the truth—and he knows that’s why it has come to this moment.

Because part of the reason Aziraphale is so good at denial is that he doesn’t have all of the evidence against Heaven. He is lacking vital information. And yes, arguments can be made that he should have figured it out by now, but when 6000+ years of your existence and safety depend on not figuring it out, or denying the truth of it when you have, 4 years is not sufficient time to make up for all of that necessary self-deception. Not unless you have someone you trust beside you to help you take the blinders off.

And Crowley very deliberately didn’t.

You don’t need to see that; it’s too much for you to handle right now. I’ll protect you from the harshness of the truth, give it to you in small doses.

Except Aziraphale is anxious, not fragile. He is spun glass with a tempered steel core, and when the glass gets chipped away, that core shows through. And what Crowley loves is not the reflection of that core through the glass; it’s the very core itself. He just doesn’t realize that. Aziraphale is Crowley’s one true blind spot. Crowley is trying to protect the reflection, not the reality.

The reality is that Aziraphale is not just waltzing on the blade’s edge: He is the blade.

Once his illusions completely break, he will find his strength. When he can no longer deny the truth—when he finally believes that he no longer needs to—he will be a force for justice, and his pure, loving, sweet, forgiving heart will shine like the sun, or burn like the glint of sun off polished steel.

Where Falling caused Crowley to become jaded, walking away from Heaven will cement in Aziraphale his sense of what is just and right and true, and his willingness to fight for it, even in the face of annihilation. He will take on the aspect of the Avenging Angel, and he will be radiant.

And together—with Crowley’s perspicacity and Aziraphale’s force of will—they will give new meaning to the phrase “power couple.”

But in the meantime, it gives an interesting new connotation to this exchange:

“I forgive you.”

“Don’t bother.”

Don’t bother forgiving me for helping you keep your blinders on, my love, because I certainly won’t forgive myself for what it has done to us.

Also, interesting side note that doesn’t really fit in here but I think needs to be mentioned: Storks have been known to eat snakes.

Now who do we know whose symbol is a stork?

#good omens #good omens season 2 #aziraphale #crowley #ineffable husbands #no nightingales #snake eyes #snake crowley

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sucka4pain · 10 months

Text

♥︎~𝐘𝐀𝐍𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐁𝐈𝐄 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒~♥︎

Warning!!! These are YANDERE head canons and are going to be dark! Also working on requests! So if you requested don’t worry I’m working on them!!

Hobie is definitely one of the smartest and intelligent yanderes in the spider verse. I wouldn’t necessarily say that he’s the jealous type because let’s be real, it’s HOBIE we’re talking about here. He’s confident and cocky about himself and getting what he wants. He doesn’t have to worry about being jealous of someone who’s trying to get with you because this man will literally walk up to you and say

“ya’ know mate, they’re ‘lready taken.”

Of course this would happen if you’re a spider person. But if you’re a civilian, he will come to your universe and tell you how your life is in danger, that he’s come to get you away to protect you. He’ll then have you brought to headquarters and have you stay in his room and will not let you leave or go anywhere without him.

Basically he will isolate you in his room until he comes back, but of course he has someone he trusts be with you so you aren’t alone. For example, he’ll have Gwen or Patvir with you, the only two people he trusts enough to have with you when he’s gone.

But he does allow you to go out, he’s gonna be with you no matter what. Where ever you’re going to he’s right there with you. If someone decides to flirt with you in front of him, he will just laugh. He finds it funny how much the person gets mad and continues to try.

“That’s really funny mate, but ya’ know they’re taken so no point innit’ huh?”

But the second the person who’s flirting with you try’s to touch you, he’s pushing them back hard and pulling you by the waist so you’re closely next to him.

“Evea’ been told to not touch what’s not yours or ya’ need me to teach ya’ hm?”

His voice drops as he stared down at the person, scaring them away. He kept his arm around your waist the rest of the day and cuddles you tightly when you guys get back to his room.

Let’s talk about his jealousy. Although he doesn’t really get jealous because he knows that he can easily have you with no problem and he’s confident about it. I mean, who wouldn’t want to be dating Hobie? But when he DOES get jealous, it’s pretty scary I’ll say.

You know those Makima fan arts where her eyes are blight glowing while her body looks like a shadow? Now imagine that but with Hobie when you try to hide from him….I’d off myself cause that’ll be really terrifying.

You’re hiding somewhere in his room, your hand covering your mouth to keep a peep out from coming out. Your body was shaking from fear as you heard a guitar strumming in the distance and Hobie’s voice spoke in almost a taunting tone.

“C’mon love, don’t hide from me~ I know where you are~!”

He went silent before his footsteps could be heard going father away. You removed your hands from your mouth and sighed.

“Gotcha~”

He said from behind you. You turned around to see his shadow like figure as his eyes glowed while he stared down at you. The fear in your eyes made him smile as he stabbed something in your neck, making you pass out.

I believe he has a little thing for chasing you while you’re trying to get away from him. It makes him feel more possessive and makes him think of more ways to keep you with him so never get away from him.

2023-2024©𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐤𝐚4𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧-- 𝐃𝗼 𝐧𝗼𝐭 𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐬𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐞, 𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐥, 𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝗺 𝗼𝐫 𝐜𝗼𝐩𝐲 𝗺𝐲 𝐰𝗼𝐫𝐤-- 𝐜𝗼𝗺��𝐞𝐧𝐭𝐬, 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐫𝐞𝐛𝐥𝗼𝐠𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝗼𝗺𝐞𝐝!!

#yandere #spider man across the spider verse #yandere spiderman #yandere headcanons #yandere hobie brown #yandere hobie brown x reader #yandere fantasy #hobie x reader #hobie x y/n #hobie spiderverse #male reader #female reader #gender neutral post #black reader

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stellar-skyy · 25 days

Note

hihi! an iced english breakfast tea with father figure blade?

“iced english breakfast tea here, for... ah, who was it? Oh, of course! Blade!”

☆ — if you're craving a drink, make sure to stop by the teashop!

i. SUMMARY: While on a trip, you receive a letter from a certain Stellaron Hunter. ii. CWS & NOTES: no warnings applicable. PLATONIC blade & gn!reader, brief silver wolf & reader, kafka & reader. father figure!blade. found family fluff. 0.5k words. iii. A/N: hi anon! this request was actually much further in the queue, but i finished it quickly so i thought i might as well post it now.

The letter is penned on bright white paper, covered in small creases that have been smoothed out. The writing on it is small, with some parts crossed out and rewritten, filling the entire page. In the corner is a small series of doodles in purple ink, crude drawings of the three Stellaron Hunters and you. The envelope is beside it with the wax seal broken, smelling faintly of spider lilies.

Inside, it reads:

[Name],

I hope this letter reaches you well, if it reaches you in the first place. I must admit I am skeptical of the effectiveness of the intergalactic postal system, but it isn’t as if there is another way to contact you, aside from tossing the letter into outer space and hoping it finds its way to the planet you are currently on.

I think this is the longest it’s been without seeing you since you were young. It is much too quiet without you around; Silver Wolf has attempted to fill the silence, but I hardly understand what she is talking about half of the time and I do not care to ask. When you return, you will have to inform me what ‘dps’ and ‘maxed out’ means, because I know asking her now will only give me a long-winded spiel about those video games she is obsessed with.

Despite you being gone several weeks now, it’s still been difficult to adjust to having one fewer member of the group. I have been turning the corner, expecting you to be there waiting for me, but I am constantly finding myself alone. Kafka tells me it’s the mother hen instincts, but she doesn’t know what she is talking about.

Silver Wolf has been asking about you non-stop, telling me she wants her Player Two back. She made me play with her for a bit, but according to her, I’m so terrible at the games that it isn’t even fun to beat me. I’m not sure what she means, she beats you all the time anyway, but when I told her that she just rolled her eyes.

Kafka misses you too, though she’s at least got enough emotional maturity to admit that out loud instead of sulking. When she found out I was writing this letter, she made me promise to tell you she can’t wait to see you again, and you’d better be taking care of yourself. I think she feels the same as I do, even as she teases me for it. Things just aren’t the same with one less person.

I know you’re wondering about me, but I’ll keep it short—I’m fine. My condition is no better than you last saw me, but it is no worse either. You don’t have to worry, and I mean that with honesty.

I trust you are using this well-deserved break to its fullest, taking in the sights and not causing any excess trouble. Elio doesn’t allow vacations very often—it’s a wonder he approved this one, with all the missions he’s sent us on lately—so make sure you take advantage of it. If you are in a tough situation, you only need to remember what Kafka and I have taught you: hit them fast and hard, and don’t leave any witnesses.

Be safe. I’ll see you soon.

Blade

reblogs and comments are appreciated! ♡

#✒️ — writing #[ interstellar teashop ☆ﾟ. ]#・ nouveau livre ˎˊ˗#—stellaronhvnters.#platonic x reader #honkai star rail x reader #hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail x reader #platonic hsr x reader #platonic honkai star rail #blade x reader #platonic blade x reader

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errorryx · 1 year

Text

grian's confession booth

read on ao3 | limited life ensemble, 3.4k words

Under the impression that Grian can't hear them, some of his fellow server members take the opportunity to spill the beans on things they probably would never have told him otherwise.

—

Joel hadn’t known what to do when Grian woke him and Jimmy early in the morning, with a look on his face that was desperately trying to be a smile. Once they were both properly awake and had stopped groaning about it, Grian had launched into an explanation that had done very little to soothe their concerns.

It’s a Watcher thing, he’d said. I’ll be back before you know it, hopefully by tomorrow. I’m sure the two of you will keep me safe while I’m gone, right?

Jimmy agreed almost immediately, and Joel a little more grudgingly, still working under the assumption that Grian was pranking them. It wasn’t until Grian climbed up on the llama, said his goodbyes, and went perfectly, horrifyingly still that Joel was even partially convinced otherwise.

He stared at Grian for a long time after, waiting for him to mess up and reveal his hand. But Grian didn’t move. He didn’t even blink. Joel made a point of watching his stomach for a while to see if it was moving, and he was pretty sure Grian wasn’t breathing either.

“D’you think his heart’s still beating?” he asked, casting a nervous glance in Jimmy’s direction.

The unreadable expression on Jimmy’s face slowly melted back into a more familiar look of contemplation, and Joel breathed a sigh of relief. “Dunno,” Jimmy said. “S’pose there’s only one way to find out.”

“Yeah,” Joel agreed. “You should check his pulse.”

“Me? It was your idea, wasn’t it?”

“What? I’m not touching him! Not when he’s all—” Joel gestured. “You know.”

Jimmy crossed his arms, the first hints of a well-worn scowl starting to form on his face. “So you expect me to do it instead?”

“Well, you’re the one who knows about this stuff, not me. Whatever your deal is.”

“Whatever my deal is? What’s that supposed to mean?” Jimmy asked, immediately defensive. “You don’t see me just up and leaving my body, do you? That’s a Grian thing. I’ve got nothing to do with it.”

“Whatever,” Joel huffed. “It doesn’t matter, anyway.” He didn’t want to argue with Jimmy while Grian was gone, or he’d have nobody left.

But after a while, Jimmy left anyway, leaving Joel to watch Grian on his own. There was something about hanging out with a silent, unmoving Grian that made Joel want to talk and talk and never stop, just to fill the silence. He rambled on about his plan to build a submarine, built a tower out of carpet, and got to work flooding the mansion. Before he knew it, he was leaning on the fencepost of Grian’s enclosure, prattling on about nothing at all. Thank god no one else was there to hear him.

“Jimmy never tells me anything,” he complained. “Neither of you do. Yesterday I didn’t even know this was something you could do, and now here you are, dead to the world or whatever. It’s freaking me out. Couldn’t you at least have closed your eyes?”

Grian didn’t answer. He sat perfectly still atop his llama, his eyes fixed on a spot somewhere off in the distance. Joel followed his line of vision, but he didn’t see much of anything in that direction.

“I’m not really mad, you know,” he said. “Just—I’m worried about you, okay? I know that’s not very bad of me, but I can’t help it. I know Jimmy’s worried too, he worries about everything.”

The uncomfortable silence lingered a little too long for Joel’s taste. Finally, the llama interrupted with a loud bray right in his ear, making him jump almost a foot in the air.

“Oi! Don’t do that.” Joel glared at the llama, who stared right back at him. The stupid llama looked more alert than Grian did. “You better not tell Jimmy I’m sat over here worrying, alright, ‘cause I’m doing just fine. Having a fantastic time out here all by myself.”

If Grian was listening, Joel hoped he was convinced. That would make one of them, at least.

—

“Oh, good, there you are, Grian,” Martyn told Grian’s unmoving form. “I’m really sorry I killed you. It was self-defense, I swear. I hope this doesn’t make us enemies when you get back, but for now we just need to get you somewhere safe.”

He started digging down, taking Grian along with him. Hopefully Joel and Jimmy wouldn’t attack him again, because he really didn’t want Grian to die a third time. He hadn’t wanted him to die a second time either, but it had all happened so quickly.

“I hope you’re doing alright,” he told Grian as he dug, “whatever you’re up to. Kick some ass. Or don’t, if that’s not what you’re going for.”

It wasn’t much longer before Jimmy and Joel made it back to spawn and immediately started digging down to find Grian. None of them died this time around, and Martyn managed to convince them that he wanted to protect Grian, too—especially after that death, which he did feel rather bad about. Joel and Jimmy left, leaving Martyn alone with Grian again.

“Anyway,” he said. “Like I said. Hope you’re doing okay out there. Get home safe. Don’t destroy yourself and doom the rest of us to a life of eternal torment.” He hesitated. “The occasional torment is still okay.”

Grian didn’t answer. Martyn began digging out some more space around him, boxing him into a corner. “I’ll be here if you want to talk about it, or something,” he said, feeling a bit foolish for even speaking the words. “Yeah. Whatever.”

Grian’s eyes didn’t refocus when Martyn was blocking his line of sight. Martyn placed a torch down right beside Grian’s head, just to see if his pupils would dilate.

They didn’t.

“Huh.” He took a step back, breaking the torch. “You know, maybe it’s best if we hide you a bit.”

He filled the hole he’d dug up to the surface with water, letting it fall from the ceiling right in front of Grian. That way, it’d be easier to get in and out. He needed to invite some other people down here, or he’d start to go mad.

“Hey, Cleo!” he called, faintly hearing her voice from above. “Come down here and check this out!”

—

“Here he is!” Martyn said, making a ta-da gesture with both arms. “He looks just like a fortune teller, doesn’t he?”

He does,” Cleo agreed. “The water does him a lot of favors. Hard to tell there’s anything the matter with him.”

She peered through the water stream at Grian, who stood perfectly upright, staring right through her. The water obscured most of what was uncanny about him, but it couldn’t hide his impeccable posture. The real Grian was always hunching his shoulders, bending his knees, constantly plotting his next move, but this Grian reminded her more of a mannequin than of himself.

“What’s her fortune, Grian?” she heard Martyn ask.

Cleo laughed, idly brushing her fingers against the now-dried blood she’d smeared over her cheeks. “That I’ll die an untimely death, most likely.”

“I’d say that applies to all of us, doesn’t it?”

“Mmm.” She took her eyes off Grian for a moment to give Martyn a scrutinizing look. “You wouldn’t happen to know what he’s up to, would you?”

“Oh, I haven’t got a clue,” Martyn said. “Your guess is as good as mine.”

She took a step closer. “I do hope you’d know better than to lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie about this, Cleo. Grian and I, we…we don’t talk much about this kind of thing.”

Cleo believed him. When Martyn started sounding pathetic, he was usually being honest.

“What about back home?” Martyn asked. “Does he talk about this stuff on Hermitcraft?”

“Not to me,” Cleo said dismissively. “You’d have to go to Pearl about that, I expect. If anyone knows, Pearl knows.”

“Then why don’t you ask her?” Martyn suggested.

“Pearl’s not so easy to threaten,” Cleo said, allowing a small smile to creep across her face. “Besides, it’s really none of my business. He’ll be back soon enough.”

“Right, yeah. Of course.”

Cleo had no reason not to take Grian at his word—or Joel and Jimmy at theirs, since they were the ones that had passed on Grian’s message. But she couldn’t help wondering what would happen if Grian didn’t return in a timely fashion. Would they leave him here for the rest of the game, letting his clock run out naturally? Would red players flock to him, unable to resist the temptation of an easy kill?

“Let’s get some other people down here to have their fortunes read,” she said briskly. “Keep him company.” No use letting herself brood over hypotheticals.

—

“Hi, Grian!” Scar said. “I’m so sorry, but it had to happen. Thank you.”

“Scar, this isn’t a confessional,” Bdubs laughed at him. “He’s a fortune-teller.”

“Hey, it can be whatever you want it to be,” Scott said. “For Scar it’s a confessional, for the rest of us it’s fortune-tellings…”

“Thank you, Scott.” Scar hopped into the water stream, poking his head out on the other side so he could breathe. “I’m sorry I killed you, Grian, but it was part of the moment. You understand the moment, I’m sure. Things happen!”

When he opened his eyes a moment later, he realized how close he was. Grian’s eyes were hollow and unblinking, and his lips were pressed firmly together, neither smiling nor frowning. If Scar didn’t know any better, he would have thought he was looking at a statue of Grian, not his real human body.

He pulled back as quickly as he could without making it look like he was panicking, and turned his back on Grian entirely as he faced the others. “That’s a relief. He said he forgives me!”

No one seemed impressed, but Scar didn’t care. There were too many people around for him to say what was really on his mind, anyway.

—

“This is weird,” Etho said.

Until right this second, he hadn’t fully considered how weird it would be to talk to Grian one-on-one like this. He hadn’t gotten a good look at Grian in all the chaos earlier, so this was his first time taking it all in.

“Cleo said I should go talk to you,” Etho said, “and I guess she was right, because this is really putting things into perspective. Like, sure, I spent a ton of time mining today and only found two diamonds, and then I died to a creeper! But it could be lot worse. I could have died twice and found no diamonds.”

The worst thing about it was how subtle it was. Etho couldn’t put his finger on anything specifically wrong, but he could feel the tension in the air just from his proximity to Grian. Grian’s…body. His temporarily unused body.

“I’m about to turn yellow, actually,” Etho said. “Two minutes. Comin’ up pretty soon, and I think I’m gonna go kill somebody once it happens. ‘Course, you’re already yellow, so you’re safe.”

Grian didn’t answer. Etho shuffled his feet, wondering how long this conversation was supposed to go on.

“And you know what?” he said. “Bdubs said he’d ditch Scar and Cleo for me in a heartbeat. His exact words.” Grian did not seem shocked to hear it.

“I don’t really know what to do with that,” Etho admitted. “I don’t really know what to do with Bdubs in general, but you know what I mean. I swear, sometimes I think we have polar opposite brains—I don’t know how we put up with each other.

“Bdubs loves swearing his undying loyalty to people—well, mostly to me, I think. Hard to wrap my head around it sometimes, but there’s only two outcomes, y’know? Either he’s lying, which would be bad, obviously, or he means, it, which…

“Well. We’ve done this whole thing before. I don’t know if it’s a good idea. I don’t know if I want to betray my whole team for him or whatever. Which is dumb, right? It’s just a silly game, I know they’ll all forgive me after it’s over, but Bdubs…we don’t have a great track record in these games, the two of us.

“I guess you’d understand that better than anyone.”

Grian didn’t answer.

“This was weird,” Etho said. “This was really weird. I’m gonna go.”

He took one last look at Grian before he returned to the surface. Grian still hadn’t moved, but then again, maybe he had. Maybe he was moving so slightly that Etho didn’t even notice. Usually Etho was a pretty perceptive guy, but he had his blind spots.

“You better not tell Bdubs,” he said, and left.

—

“Hey, Grian!” Impulse said. “Heard you had a rough time this session, huh?”

He’d already seen Grian when the boogeyman had been chosen, but Impulse was very distracted at the time. Without a bunch of people laughing and talking around him, Grian looked downright ghostly, and Impulse couldn’t say it wasn’t getting to him.

“I’m sorry you died,” he said. “I feel really bad about that, even though I didn’t have anything to do with it. Funny, right? I had something to do with someone else’s death, and I don’t feel bad about that at all. Not sure what’s up with that.”

Grian’s blank expression was a little warped through the water, and for a moment, Impulse almost thought Grian was giving him a look of exasperation. “Okay, okay,” Impulse said, “I know exactly what’s up with it. I guess I can be honest with you, since you’re kinda down for the count right now. We’re all here to let loose, right? Nothing wrong with a bit of murder between friends! It’s just a game, and Pearl and I will go back to being friends again once it’s over.”

Grian didn’t answer, but that was okay. Impulse didn’t want anyone else to hear what he was about to say. It was a good thing Martyn had set this up, because after a long day of contemplating murder, it was getting difficult for him to keep his thoughts to himself.

“I’m planning on killing Bdubs when I get to red.” He let out a long sigh of relief. “Gosh, that feels good to admit. Been keeping that one quiet for a while. I’ve always wanted to have one of those big dramatic moments like the rest of you, and I’ve never gotten the chance. It's only fair, right? Sure, winning would be nice, but all I can really think about is the moment I finally get my turn to do something people will remember.

I don’t think that’ll make a big difference to my teammates—not to Tango and Skizz, at least, they’re not the biggest fans of Bdubs right now. But I can’t help thinking if I had to choose between keeping my team safe or focusing on my plan, I’m not sure I would—”

He paused, hearing some noises from up above. “Skizz and Tango are on their way, I think—yeah, here they come.” Impulse took a step back to let Tango and Skizz out of the water. “Hey, guys!”

“Hey, Impulse!” Tango said, stepping over the cobblestone base of the water stream. “Did I hear you talking about us?”

“All good things, I’m sure,” Skizz added, jumping out behind him.

“Of course! I was just telling Grian about our beautiful new tower,” Impulse said, prompting an irritated noise from Tango. “He said all the best towers are asymmetrical nowadays.”

They seemed to believe him, thankfully. And if Grian had heard any of Impulse’s secrets, he didn’t breathe a word.

—

“Hey, Grian. Just checking to see if you were back yet before I went to sleep.”

Pearl had seen Grian like this before, here and there, but it didn’t make it any easier. Even after everything, she wasn’t immune to getting the creeps.

“A lot happened today,” she told him. “Lots of people died. Including me! Twice! I thought I had this one in the bag, you know, and now look at me, I’m yellow! Though admittedly, there’s a lot of that going around.”

Pearl was pretty comfortable talking to Grian like this. She’d tested him before, telling him all manner of secrets and bits of gossip that came to mind. She knew he wouldn’t be able to resist bringing it up afterwards, and he’d never mentioned any of it to her.

“I just can’t get into it like I did last time,” she admitted. “Playing to win seems a little pointless, doesn’t it? I already found out what happens when I win. It doesn’t fix anything. I really wish you’d warned me.

“I don’t know how you still manage it. You’ve kept trying to win all the way through every one of these games. I’m not sure I want to keep trying anymore.”

She poked him in the stomach, just for good measure. If all else failed, she’d always be able to get a reaction out of Grian that way. He didn’t move, which was proof enough for her.

“Thanks, Grian,” Pearl sighed. “Good luck out there.”

—

“Well, hey there, Grian! Thought I’d stop by one last time.”

Everyone else had gone to sleep for the night, but Scar couldn’t keep himself away. He’d waited for spawn to be deserted as long as he dared, but Grian had told everyone he’d only be gone for a day, and Scar didn’t want to miss his chance. “Can you hear anything people have been saying to you?” he asked.

Grian didn’t answer.

“I’m just going to assume you can’t, for the sake of my own well-being.” Scar checked his watch, still ticking down the time as merrily as ever. He could swear that his timer had gone a little wonky in Grian’s absence, though it was hard to tell in all the chaos. He’d killed five people today, but hadn’t gotten full credit for all of them. Hopefully Grian would set things straight when he got back.

Grian had been one of those kills, and even hours later, Scar’s head was still rushing from it. He sat back against the wall, facing the opposite direction from Grian. Scar had learned his lesson earlier about getting up close and personal with him.

“I said I was sorry, earlier,” Scar said. “I don’t know how true that is.”

He felt bad almost immediately after saying it. “I shouldn’t say that. I do feel bad, you know! I’m not like—like you, or Joel, or Bdubs, I guess. I love causing some chaos, but things settle down and I start regretting it a little. And I do regret it, but I don’t feel sorry, and I’m not sure why.

“I’m sorry for not being sorry, I guess.”

Grian didn’t answer. Usually when Grian was silent, which was really only when he was asleep, Scar could listen for his breathing. This time, he heard nothing but the trickling water between them.

Grian had always been a constant, in more ways than one. Scar could depend on him to stir things up whenever they were getting too boring. He could always count on finding Grian, if not in the center of the action, then right on the edge instead, either orchestrating the chaos or just observing it—drawn there like a magnet the way Scar was drawn to him. But the one thing Scar never thought he’d lose was the simple fact of Grian’s physical presence.

Scar had thought about killing Grian plenty of times, but the only time he’d managed to do it was when Grian wasn’t Grian at all. No death cry, no promise of vengeance. Not even a breath.

“Don’t worry,” he said, turning his head to the side to catch Grian’s silhouette in the corner of his vision, as close as he was willing to get. “I’ll make it up to you. Once you get back, I’ll work up the nerve to kill you for real. I’ll make you proud.”

Grian didn’t answer, but Scar could envision his smile. Not his feverish post-death laughter, but the softer, rarer expression of fondness he made when he thought no one was looking. Scar had caught only wisps of it in the past, but if he squinted, he could almost see it through his lashes.

He didn’t mean to fall asleep like that, leaning up against the wall of a tiny cave in the ground. But he couldn’t resist the thought of Grian waking him up the next morning, with either a friendly smile or a sword through his stomach.

“Goodnight, Grian,” he said.

Grian didn’t answer, which was just fine with Scar. It was safer that way.

—

if you read this all the way through and enjoyed, please consider reblogging!

(also, since i've been asked about previous fics, you're welcome to interpret and tag this as shipping if you like. i intentionally left it up to interpretation.)

#grian #goodtimeswithscar #smallishbeans #inthelittlewood #zombiecleo #ethoslab #impulsesv #pearlescentmoon #limited life spoilers #my stuff #my writing #lml

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stardewstardropthoughts · 1 year

Note

What about the bachelors comforting the farmer who's usually very calm but breaks down in tears for the first time due to stress. *Cough* community house *cough*

If you didn’t mean the community center please let me know lol but damn mayor lewis really did us dirty with tasking ONE PERSON to what would easily require like five minimum 🫠

How the bachelors react to you breaking down about fixing the community center

Harvey:

He may be your doctor, but first and foremost he’s your husband

Even if he hadn’t been concerned about the physical toll that undertaking fixing the community centre on your own would cause, he was certainly worried about the mental toll

Would ask about how it’s going frequently, dispite your constant brushing off his worries

Until one day it all just became to much for you and he found you curled up in the bathroom head on your knees arms around yourself sobbing

Immediately worried something hurts or your feeling sick, asking a million medical questions a minute

When you finally tell him that your just overwhelmed because it’s such a huge task for one person he sits down beside you and listens

“I don’t want to let everyone down because I know mayor Lewis is counting on me to fix up that old building but it’s just so much for me to do alone, I don’t even know how I’m supposed to keep up with it and I’m constantly burning myself out trying to find what I need or come up with the funds to buy it and I just can’t”

He wraps his arms around you and holds you while you rant through hiccups and sobs into his shirt, gently running his hands up and down your back in a soothing pattern

“Sweetheart, mayor Lewis was wrong to throw such a huge task upon one person, it’s not your fault and it’s certainly not your burden to bear. You arnt letting anyone down and no one expects you to be able to do it on your own, it’s okay to ask for help”

Sam:

He is really impressed that you wanted to undertake fixing up the old community center yourself

He is also concerned since he doesn’t want you to burn yourself out but you were adamant that you could do it

He offers to help out every now and then but you assure him you’ve got it handled

You do not in-fact have it handled

He finds you face first on your bed one night sobbing violently into the pillow, covered in dirt and scrapes

He’s very concerned and immediately grabbing the first aid kit and some water for you

Asks you what’s wrong and if your okay, which only makes you sob harder to be honest

Listens as you tell him that trying to find all the necessary things to fix up the community center is quickly becoming an impossible feeling task and that your so afraid to fail because you don’t want anyone to be disappointed in you

He’s also crying now because how could anyone be disappointed in you? The love of his life who’s working so hard to better the community when no one else even tries

“Hey, baby baby baby listen, your doing so much more then anyone else has even attempted to do to make this town better, no one could ever be disappointed in you”

Holds you for the whole night, also asks you to take a few days off for yourself so he can pamper you and help you feel better

Elliott:

He doesn’t like that mayor lewis has put this much responsibility on you alone to begin with

He knows what it’s like to undertake to much work and then burn yourself out

So he knows what’s happened when he finds you sobbing in the middle of your sunflower patch

Immediately pulling you into his chest and shushing you gently while he runs his hands through your hair

“I know my love, it’s unfair of such expectations to have been thrust upon you. You don’t have to undertake such a burden alone, it’s alright to need help”

Continues to hold you for as long as you’ll allow him

“Even tear stained and sniffy your beauty still rivals that of even the most breathtaking sunflowers in this field”

Just wants to see you smile again, his heart hurts when your upset

Shane:

You’ve helped this man through so many breakdowns and he’s the king of being burnt out so he knows the signs when they happen

He also hates that the mayor just decided you could undertake such a huge task yourself, shouldn’t that be the mayors job?

He finds you face down in a pile of chickens who have all just settled around and on your sobbing form

If he wasn’t so concerned for your mental well being he might have snapped a pic

Very gently removes the chickens off of you and pulls you into his lap, Charlie his favorite chicken on your lap as extra emotional support

“I don’t even know what I’m doing when it comes to fixing up that old building and I took some drugs with a wizard to see some fucking junimos and they have so many demands and I don’t even know how to say any of this without sounding like I’m insane and it’s just to much to do alone”

Listens intently while you rant and sob into the chicken who’s very patiently sitting on your lap

“Love, first of all I don’t think mystery drugs with a wizard is a good idea please don’t get yourself poisoned, second, it wasn’t fair of mayor Lewis to put a task that he should have done himself on you and I have half the mind to tell the town about his little affair if that wouldn’t hurt marnie too”

Gently scoops you up off the floor and brings you into the farm house so he can make you a cup of coffee or tea and cuddle in the bed with you after a hot bath together

Sebastian:

This man probably wasn’t even aware you were trying to fix it up at first, especially since usually his mom has the big projects

So when he finds you just floating face up in the lake near his house staring at the sky while it was pouring he is concerned to say the least

When you explain through tears and shaky breaths that your just really burnt out trying to fix the community center and that it’s way to big a task he understands

Brings you back to his house and hands you a pair of his pants and a shirt and sweater to change into while he puts your clothes in the dryer

Comes back and wraps you up like a little cocoon in his blankets and holds you against him

“It’s not very fair to expect you to be able to do such a large task on your own, if you need help it’s alright to ask, my mom and Clint I’m sure would be able to help and more then happy to as well”

Let’s you fall asleep in his arms and once he’s sure your resting falls asleep as well

Alex:

He probably doesn’t even realize anyone’s trying to fix up that old building, it seems like a lost cause to him

Much less did he expect you to be trying but he does think it’s very admirable that you wanted to fix it up

Does not think it’s worth the obvious toll it’s taking on you

Finds you having a whole panic attack and sobbing on the beach after dark

Doesn’t really know what to do to comfort you at first so he just kinda crouched in front of you

“Hey, hey take a deep breath in with me okay? Good job, now out”

Does Breathing exercises with you until your breath evens out

“Good job baby, now tell me what’s wrong”

Listens intently as you tell him all about how you’ve been trying to fix up the old community center and most of it’s gone pretty good but your really struggling with some parts of it because the supplies is really hard to come by no matter how much you scoured the mines and your so exhausted but you don’t want to let anyone down

Holds your hand while stroking his thumb over the back of it

“What you’ve already done is more then amazing and you shouldn’t have felt obligated to try and fix it in the first place, it’s not your job to rebuild it babe, no one would be upset, it’s a pretty big job for any one person”

Makes a mental note to ask the mayor what the heck he was thinking assigning such a huge task to one single person because what the hell mayor Lewis

#stardew fanfic #stardew valley #stardew farmer #stardew x reader #stardew headcanon #stardew marriage #stardew elliott #stardew harvey #stardew sam #stardew sebastian #stardew shane #stardew alex

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ctitan98official · 3 months

Text

Anonymous: Hey! Can I request an Alcina x reader where they’re in a relationship and reader lets Alci feed from her every now and then. After a bad day (of dealing with Karl) Alci feeds on reader but she goes a little too far since she’s stressed and reader’s fight or flight instinct kicks, pushing her off and running away. Make it a fluffy ending though please. Thank you!

Fuck yeah! Reader, as usual, is gender-neutral (And tasty, apparently.) Let’s get into it!

Alcina stomps angrily down the hallway to her room. She has had just about enough of Karl’s stupid mouth. He’s so mean-spirited sometimes. It’s emotionally exhausting. During the weekly family meeting, all he wanted to do was pick fights with her. Even Mother Miranda had to step in a few times. Alcina is ashamed she let herself be goaded into losing her temper.

You are currently in Alcina’s bedroom and can hear the intensity of her hurried footfalls. You can tell she’s pissed. Your anxiety starts to rise. Was she mad at you? Did you do something wrong? You always assume that you’re the cause of her anger when she’s in a bad mood. To you, Alcina is a goddess. You’re not even sure why she’s with you in the first place. You are terrified that all it will take is one mistake before she casts you away.

Finally, Alcina enters her bedroom and releases a weary sigh.

You nervously clear your throat to gain her attention. “Um, are you okay, Alci?” You ask quietly.

Alcina pinches the bridge of her nose and nods her head before looking at you. “I’m fine, draga. Just annoyed.” She says and comes over to sit in her chair by the fire. She reaches her hands out to pick you up.

You get the message and come over to her.

Alcina gently grabs you and settles you on her lap before petting your hair. You soothe her greatly.

You lean into the softness of Alcina’s body and enjoy her ministrations.

“Wanna talk about it?” You offer, trying to figure out what has her so upset.

“It’s just that stupid man-thing, Heisenberg.” She bites out. “Why must he always provoke me? He made me look like a fool in front of Mother Miranda.” She sighs.

While you are mad at Karl, and will probably go and cuss him out later for messing with your lady, you’re also very relieved that you are not the cause of her ire. “I’m sorry, babe.” You tell her.

Alcina smiles as she looks down at you. “I’m better now that you’re here to keep me company, draga.” She tells you and kisses your head.

You’re happy to be of service. “Well… There is one thing that might make you feel better.” You begin and tug at your collar. “Are you hungry? Why not grab a bite to eat?” You ask with a grin.

Alcina giggles at you. “Well, I actually might take you up on that offer, draga.” She says with a smile. “I haven’t had a moment to myself to even drink a damned glass of wine.” She says.

In the beginning of your relationship, Alcina would always decline your offer to let her feed from you. She felt guilty. Over time though, she’s realized that it makes you feel very useful to be able to provide her with blood… Within moderation, of course. “I’ll have just a quick taste if you don’t mind, draga.” She tells you. She’s fending off the tell-tale discomfort of her body trying to mutate. She needs blood imminently, but tries to downplay it in order to keep you from worrying.

You don’t pick up on the seriousness of Alcina’s silent struggle, but hearing her not even try to fight you on this lets you know she’s very thirsty. “Great! I’ve been needing an oil change anyway.” You joke.

Alcina smiles and rubs your cheek with her finger. She leans down and places a soft kiss on your throat before she bites down.

You school your facial features as she pierces your skin. The feeling of her teeth nicking major arteries is rather painful, but there is no way you would ever let her see that. You’re just glad she’s letting you help her.

Alcina starts slow. She doesn’t begin drinking right away. She is just enjoying the natural flow of your blood pooling into her mouth. The warmth and metallic tang of your essence is intoxicating. You truly have some of the best tasting blood she’s ever tried. Once she swallows her first mouthful, however, it’s as if something animalistic takes over her… Her appetite has been whetted and the hunger she’s been trying to suppress is no longer able to be ignored.

On top of this, Alcina begins remembering all of the stupid things Karl said today and the look of pure disappointment on Mother Miranda’s face as she scolded them both. With no conversation or other stimulation to occupy her mind, Alcina begins gulping bigger amounts of your blood harshly. She takes long pulls from your neck, trying to both sate herself and curb her anger.

You, who had been previously relaxing as Alcina fed, feel her getting rougher and rougher. Your posture becomes rigid as the usual pain from her drinking is starting to become unbearable and she grips onto you with immense force. Alcina has never drunk this much from you before, but she has also never been quite this… Aggressive either. Your skin grows clammy and you begin to struggle to breathe, your body desperately trying to create enough oxygen as your blood levels start depleting. Your heart begins racing and you worry that she will suck you completely dry.

Alcina is too far gone in her rage-fueled state. She doesn’t hear the desperate whimpers you are making.

Soon enough, you grow dizzy and confused. Your anxiety begins going haywire and you feel a need to get away and hide. You don’t even know what’s going on anymore. You’re just acting on instincts. You groan and lurch forward, scrambling off the chair and falling to the floor. You cough violently and wheeze, your hunger for air becoming too difficult to control.

At your frantic actions, Alcina immediately knows she has been too rough and gasps as tears trail down her cheeks. She watches you crawl away, trying to save yourself. Your neck is still spouting blood and she reaches out to try to put pressure on it.

At Alcina’s movements, you whimper in fear and try to put distance between yourself and her. Your eyesight is becoming hazy and you are unaware of your actions. You hide up underneath her desk, hoping to get away from the large figure trying to pick you up.

Alcina sobs at your reaction to her and puts her hands over her mouth, ashamed.

You begin to black out, sweating profusely and shivering. A nap seems like a good idea, your exhausted brain decides. You slump over and go unconscious very shortly afterward.

Alcina is crying inconsolably as she comes over to cradle your tiny body in her arms. She immediately begins dressing your wound and applying pressure, hoping she’s not too late. This was entirely irresponsible of her. How could she do this to you? She loves you more than life itself. Alcina’s tears fall fast as she brings you over to her bed and tucks you in. She grabs a cloth and begins wiping the sweat off of your forehead, heartbroken. What has she done? She can hear your little heart pumping quickly and feverishly. She lies down next to you and weeps as she holds you.

You would not awake until the following day.

——————————————————————————

Your head is pounding as your eyes open. You feel totally drained… What the hell happened? You look around and see Alcina, sitting at her desk and crying hard. Your heart drops. Why is she so sad? “Alci?” You call softly, hoping you aren’t disturbing her.

Alcina’s head snaps in your direction and she gasps as she hurriedly comes over to you. She cups your face and begins apologizing frenziedly.

You furrow your eyebrows in confusion. Why is she telling you she’s sorry?

“Please forgive me, draga!” She wails. “I didn’t mean to do it, truly, Y/N!” She tells you.

“Hey, hey, what’s wrong, babe?” You ask.

When Alcina can’t even bring herself to look you in the eyes, you try a different idea. “Lie down a second.” You tell her and hold your arms out to her.

Alcina wipes her eyes and does as you ask. She lies next to you and holds you as she buries her face in your hair. “I-I almost… Killed you, draga!” She admits, sobbing more.

Your jaw damn near hits the floor at this. What is she talking about?! Is that why you feel so terrible? “I… Um, what?” You ask, trying not to upset her anymore than she already is.

Alcina sniffles and pulls away to look at you. “Draga… Yesterday you let me feed from you, but…” She can’t finish her sentence as more tears fall.

You pick up on what she’s trying to say, though. That… Does sound sort of familiar. You don’t blame Alcina. It was a mixture of things that brought on the situation. You just feel bad that she’s beating herself up over it. “Hey, Alci? I’m still here, alright? I love you. I know you wouldn’t do anything to purposefully hurt me.” You tell her and cup her face, looking her in the eyes. “I love you, Alcina.” You repeat and place a kiss on her lips.

Alcina feels relief that you don’t blame her, but… It’s going to be a long time before she forgives herself (If ever). She is once again reminded of how selfless and giving you are. She literally almost killed you and here you are, trying to comfort her. You are too good for her… “I love you too, draga. So much.” She says in a soft whisper.

You smile back at her. “I guess you should start making limited edition ‘Y/N-flavored’ Sanguis Virginis! I’m irresistible, by the looks of things, you know?”

Alcina cringes at this.

You look up at Alcina’s awkward expression and clear your throat in discomfort. “Too soon?” You ask.

Alcina nods her head, but she can’t help the small smile that graces her features. You are one of a kind and so random… She loves you for it, though.

Note: Y/N is literally a snack. This was really fun to write lol

Masterlist

#alcina dimitrescu #lady dimitrescu #re8 #re8 village #re8 lady dimitrescu #alcina dimitriscu x reader #lady dimitrescu x reader #alcina dimitrescu x y/n #alcina dimitrescu x reader #resident evil village #resident evil 8 #resident evil #resident evil imagines #lady dimitrescu x y/n #angst #angst drabble

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