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highvern · 4 months

Text

Soft

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x fem! reader

Genre: fluffy smut, 18+

Warnings: sleepy soft domestic sex, oral (m. receiving), praise, cum swallowing, face fucking, soft cheol, mentions of butt stuff (this is becoming too frequent), mentions of thigh riding, begging, dom-ish cheol, sub-reader

Length: 1.5k

Note: inspired by this soft thought. like i literally haven't stopped thinking about domestic cheol the past few days and just loving that man up so here is a short fic to get it out of my system. not proof read!!!! also @bbychocolat thank u for ruining my night with domestic cheol thots

read more here

This blog is intended for 18+ only! Minors/blank blogs will be blocked!

The winter chill seeping through the window bites against your nose as your boyfriend traces the cool tip of his own against your cheek. Pinned under the weight of his body and the blankets, you float into bliss; his slightly chapped lips repaying all the kisses you loaned him minutes earlier.

Beyond your entangled bodies the bed feels infinite. There's nothing in the world beyond you and Seungcheol. The world is quietly holding its breath as you comb your fingers through his hair.

You urge him to stay on the next pass of his mouth against yours. A gentle suck of his lower lip is all it takes to convince him he's right where he needs to be. His hand caresses your face, thumb stroking the apple of your cheek. Your eyes open and meet his when he manages to pull away. Something more than words could ever convey passes between you.

A gentle prod against his shoulder rolls him into the sheets next to your body; the hood of his sweater falling back to reveal the mess of his hair. Longing aches in your heart from his soft face and pouting lips. You’d sit in his lap and kiss him for the rest of time if he asked. If he wanted the moon, you’d find a way to give it to him. Anything for him to keep looking at you the way he is now.

Dipping down, you reconnect your mouths. The wash of his tongue across your bottom lip is soothing as a stream.

His hand doesn’t stop stroking the back of your neck, thumb massinging against the knob of bone at the base of your skull. The juxtaposition of your boyfriend’s strength and how he always treats you as something fragile makes you dizzy.

It’s too cold to undress so you settle for pulling Seungcheol’s hoodie up his stomach. Each inch of skin revealed drives you further down into the pit of desperation blooming in your stomach.

Your lips trace the bottom of his ribs, across the softness of his belly and the slightly raised jut of his hips. The urge to cover him in dark bruises and bite marks sings through your blood but you’ll save it for another time. Right now, you want to worship every piece of your man with the softness he usually bestows on you.

His ticklish laughter curls against your ears when you lick the raised vein below his belly button. The smile against his skin only makes him curl up further.

“Cheollie,” you snicker, fingers soft against his sides.

“Don’t start.”

It’s a warning. He hates being tickled. The first time you found his weak spots, Seungcheol had to pin you against the bed and distract you with something else for you to stop.

And as tempting as that is; it’s still not what you want.

You mouth against the bulge hiding under the fabric of his pants, hot breaths puffing through to his cock. Following the lean, you suck around the tip until his gray sweats are soaked in your spit on one side and his pre-cum on the other. Every twitch of your lips has him swelling until his hands rush to shimmy down his sweats and underwear.

Seungcheol slowly feeds you each inch of his cock, eyes never leaving your own even as you drool into his lap the way he likes. The slick of his cum satisfies you the way nothing else can; the cure for a part of your brain always desperate for your boyfriend to use you.

“So good,” he croaks.

Each lap of your tongue against his length takes him higher, but your desperate whimpers whispering up to his ears are the best part of this. You lick gently at the head, sucking up your reward until Seungcheol’s brain melts out of his ears.

He knows how much you like his hands, his fingers, and never shies away from reminding you of that fact. Especially in a position like this were your eagerness to please possess every cell in your body.

One hand lands on the side of your face, thumb hooking in the split of your lips to stretch your mouth wider around his cock before he forces you to take it. The other finds the back of your head, a silent possessiveness sneaking into the hold.

You test the waters by lifting as far up as you can, almost to the point his cock slips from your mouth, only to find your boyfriend’s firm hand guiding you back down. The please hum budding in your throat makes both his hands squeeze gently in acknowledgment.

A tight fist helps him along, your thumb working along the thick vein webbed on the side of Seungcheol’s cock. Each smoky rasp of his voice lulls you further down. Every praise and sigh whispering across your spine, heating your core.

He bucks when your hand disappears and you try to force the last inches across your tongue. Your face is a wet mess of spit, cum, and tears. Eyes round as you watch Seungcheol’s mouth twist in pleasure when you suck him deep, nose dusting against his pelvis.

The blood in your brain thickens to syrup as he holds you there, throat tight while you choke.

“You’re perfect,” Seungcheol groans through a lazy smile, eyes glazed.

You come up for a quick breath before falling back down. The heat of his palms control your pace, gentle but firm. Not as deep as you can go but far enough you gag if you don’t focus.

The next stroke leaves you scrambling when his cock pops out of your mouth to land on his stomach. A hand manages to catch him but Seungcheol’s own on your cheek keeps his cock just out of reach.

"Stop," you keen, aching in your bones to get lost in the rhythm and taste again.

A thumb silences your protest, curling down on your tongue until you suck on it instead.

Seungcheol knows you’d do just about anything he asks right now. If he said he wanted to fuck your ass, you’d bend over and present yourself without reservation. If he told you to ride his thigh until you came you’d leave his pants soaked. If he wanted to paint your face with his spend... well, you'd probably beg him to before he gets the chance to say the words. It’s thrilling.

His hand not fucking your mouth moves to grabs his cock. Streaks of shine trail across your lips as he traces it around your mouth, his thumb still dug into your tongue to keep you from sucking him back in. Gurgled pleas fall apart as he slaps your cheek with his cock and leaves you covered in more traces of him.

“Gonna let me cum here?” Your boyfriend asks, prying your mouth open to give you another taste before pulling back again.

A tear washes down your cheek as you respond, hands wrapping around his wrists as if you can outmatch his strength and keep him in place.

“Please.”

He can’t say no with the way you present your tongue. Flat and waiting.

You meet him halfway as he thrusts back home. Sloppy claps echo across the room as he fucks your throat until the end rushes him like a riptide.

His hips lift off the bed and into your mouth as he cums, the taste pulling desperate moan after moan out of your lungs. There's so much. Every hot rope flooding your mouth, excess pushed out the corners of your lips for you to collect later.

You keep going, even though your boyfriend is spent and twitches from each lap against his softening length. A pathetic whimper vibrates against his tip when you rub it against your swollen lips, glossing them in his cum, before you swallow him back down.

He loves you like this. Mesmerized by his cock, so desperate for his cum you can’t help yourself. Seuncheol knows if he pushes you off there's a very real chance you’ll cry so he happily lets you continue despite the discomfort. The thickness of his cum spreading across his spent cock used to be uncomfortable as you held it in your mouth. But a late night with you bent over his lap made him privy to your perversions. How you came that much harder when he fucked you with his cum as lube before spilling another load inside you. If he can get hard again, he'll make good on it like he always does.

But he can tell by the way your eyes slip shut and your breathing slows that you’re far too tired to take him a second time.

When you’re satisfied, content that you’ve taken all he’s got to give, Seungcheol hauls you back up to his chest. More adorning kisses tickle your face, each slow and pointed. You know how he feels just by the way he touches you, even if he hasn’t said it yet.

Taglist: @tomodachiii @cvpidyunho @miniseokminnies @ddaengpotate @arycutie @gaebestie @primoppang @gyuguys @mine-gyu @doremifasire @missminhoe @toplinehyunjin @crvs4vldtn @prettygyuuu

#svthub #seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #svt smut #🫡 highvern

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mayhemories · 1 year

Note

Hi! Can I request a continuation of Teacher's Pet if you're okay doing it? reader takes the kids on a field trip to see whatever animal/cool thing in the rainforest (up to you) Neteyam and a couple warriors volunteer as chaperones to protect you and the kiddos for safety. He volunteered cuz duty but also saw this as a opportunity to get closer to reader 😈 During the field trip he notices one of the warriors try to flirt with Reader. Neteyam is SO jealous about this.

gif: @world-of-pandora

Teacher's Pet Pt. 2

Anon when I saw this request I nearly passed out bc I thought I had accidentally leaked a part of the plot to this chapter. Wtf great minds think alike <3 hope my vision was satisfying for you!! I'm incredibly anxious about this one not being as good as the first one.

Don’t attack me because this part took so long. I was travelling between continents, have two assignments due and writing multiple works at once 🫡 trying my absolute best here. Some of my tags are working and some are broken! I’m so sorry if you asked to be tagged and it did not work for you - it was not on purpose.

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Pairing: Neteyam Sully x Reader (James Cameron’s Avatar)

Requested: Yes | No

Warnings: Swearing. Reader is slightly harassed/made uncomfortable by a male character (Neteyam doesn’t let it last for long). Neteyam is an adult with adult thoughts, Reader is an adult with adult thoughts, albeit a little innocent (just in her nature).

Words: 3.2k

Author’s Notes: Direct continuation of Teacher’s Pet, you can find part one here ←

Taglist: @lilprettypetite @nyotamalfoy @weasleytwinwheezes @aonungs-tsahik @rainbowsocks @glitterandgoldfinds @bluealiensimp @melsunshine @ussoppl @wondxrgurll @luvlykrispy @myheartfollower @gloryavila @itssiaaax @mashiromochi @punkrockrogers @simpforboys @casiia @neytirqs @oh-austin @eywas-heir

Fic Taglist: @neteyamore @waaakemeeeup @tejas-kris @gardenofvows @nuhteyam @m4nd0l0r @bobojojoba69 @sydhersom @fanboyluvr @humbug5 @viviartsy @izzytheconosieur @dreamybiitch @heaven1oo4 @myheartfollower @agelsully @slythermania @neteyamyam15 @bealone-prm @okaylorrainee @koryianders @uwu-i-purple-you @jackiehollanderr @b-tchymoon @gloryavila @reneyahh

Continue reading under the cut:

It had been a week since dinner with the Sully’s, with your favourite student and her incredibly, incredibly attractive brother.

Neteyam.

His name has been running around your mind, stretching and weaving its way around every thought like a songchord every moment since you left his family home. You could not help but feel ashamed at the thoughts your mind had conjured regarding the warrior, regarding his hands and lips and strong arms. A blush broke out across your face, recollecting the private crevasses of your own mind, feeling as though everyone around you could see, could hear, what you dreamed of.

“y/n!” Neteyam yelled out to you before he could stop himself. He had just come home from rounds, and his visceral yearning for you could not be halted, if he did not see you immediately he probably would’ve ripped the entire village apart until your figure appeared. And how Eywa had blessed him with seeing your face straight away.

You spun, facing him, looking almost shocked that he had found you in the bustle of the afternoon. And, to his delight, he could’ve sworn that a light smile graced your beautiful face, in addition to a light, fading blush.

“Neteyam,” Your voice was so beautiful, so, so, so beautiful. Like a song Neteyam never grew sick of. “Can I help you with something?” You asked, gently. Head slightly cocked. Neteyam couldn’t help himself, his body reacting without his brain, his arm reaching for your own, resting it just above your elbow.

Your entire body felt like it had been set alight. Neteyam’s light grip on your arm made you feel numb, made you feel like you were floating. And how, how, were you supposed to listen, to comprehend anything he said to you?

“No, no, but I was uh-” Neteyam stuttured, he hated how unsure he was around you, how nervous you made him. “I was wondering if I could help you.” He finished.

Yes. Yes, he could. He could help you in so many ways that you wished you could voice to him.

“How so?” You tried to remain professional, remain calm. But Neteyam still hadn’t removed his damn hand and all you could think about was how you wanted his hands. Both of them. Everywhere.

Neteyam let out a nervous chuckle, his hand retreating from your arm, finding its home at the back of his neck. Something that you had clocked as a nervous tick, though you could never work out why someone like Neteyam, a handsome, strong and mighty warrior was nervous talking to you, a simple teacher.

“Tuk let it slip that you and the kids plan to visit the syaksyuk tomorrow,” Neteyam felt his cheeks start to burn. He felt like slapping himself in the face, he needed to wake up, needed to collect himself. His father and brother would laugh at him for this interaction, he knew it. “To go that far into the jungle, alone, looking after twenty-something kids is dangerous.”

You looked down at your feet, and Neteyam felt guilty, felt like he was scolding you. God, he wasn’t much better than his father.

Your mind was wheeling. You and the kids. You and the kids. You knew, realistically what Neteyam had been referring to. Was it so wrong to wish for him to mean something else by it, though? You and our kids. That was what your heart longed to hear one day.

“Would you chaperone us, Neteyam?” You asked sweetly. You tried to catch his strong eyeline, and when you did you felt the warm, flowing feeling pool in your chest. Looking at him was like taking your first breath after emerging from a pond, being around him was like feeling warmth after your marrow had been frozen. He made you feel so, so very alive. Alive and incandescent and important.

Maybe, maybe it was incredibly selfish of you that you used your students as a front, used his sister as an excuse to see him. But you chased that feeling, you sought out his defiblirating presence.

Neteyam felt like he was flying, felt like he was dying. Like he had flown too close to a tree and his actions had finally caught up to him. And here you were, offering him everything he has ever wanted, so simply, like it was nothing at all. Fuck, he loved you for it.

You made a reach for him, your own hand mirroring the placement he had on you only moments ago, desperate for that blood-pumping high.

“Only if you’re not busy of course-”

“Of course. It would be my pleasure-”

Neteyam and yourself had spoken at the same time. Two bashful morons who could obviously not contain themselves in eachothers presence. Well, thats what it felt like to Neteyam, anyway. Despite the fact that you were the most intelligent Na’vi he had anything to do with.

“I can bring a couple of hunters, if you’d like.” Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. Why would he do that? Neteyam can’t help run his dumbass mouth, he had secured the situation and fumbled it within seconds. All he wanted was to have more moments with you, alone. Or alone as one can get with a gaggle of children at your feet.

Not that Neteyam minded seeing a bunch of children at your feet.

And just like that, that beautiful blooming, romanticism errurpted in your chest, it died. You felt naive, you thought that Neteyam was angling at a moment, somewhat, alone. But him being the perfect, golden man that he was, cared genuinely about your safety. Cared about your class’ safety. Eywa damn it, his sister’s safety. All over again, you felt yourself running amock in your own thoughts. Was it not incredibly kind that he would give up his time to chaperone you and your class? He would only offer if he cared. You did not stop the love that unfurled in your chest.

“Thank you, Neteyam.” You offered the man a smile, hoping he would sense your genuine excitement. “That’s extremely generous of you, I know how short on free time you are.”

Neteyam was so, so happy. He felt like crying. He just doesn’t understand how you do it. Neteyam, as if being controlled, like a ghost in his shell, let his hand find yours that laid still on his arm, covering your hand.

Everything was so effortless with you, so right. He did not just feel acknowledged or witnessed. But perceived, you saw him. Neteyam knew he was projecting. All he did know, though, was that he saw you. All he could wish for was that maybe, Eywa willing, you would see him too.

Lo’ak was getting increasingly more pissed off. Watching Neteyam pussyfoot around you was painful. At first, it was hilarious. So hilarious that even his Dad got in on it. Jake found himself leaning against a support beam, Lo’ak a hairsbreadth away from him. The two of them watching his eldest son, watching his baby boy absolutely make a fool of himself.

“I don’t know how much more of this I can take, Lo’ak.” Jake laughed lightly, shaking his head. Lo’ak had heard that sentence alot, usually in regard to his behaviour, but this time it was his father laughing at his older brother and Lo’ak was incredibly thankful he wasn’t on the end of it this time.

“It’s embarassing.” Lo’ak agreed.

Jake sighed. He didn’t realise how much Neteyam lacked in confidence. In the back of his mind, in the deep, dark part that Jake kept hidden, he couldn’t help to wonder if it was his fault that his eldest struggled to express himself.

“Neteyam!”

Immediately your hand flew to your side, a blush exploded across your face and ears, you did not know why you were embarrassed that Jake Sully had caught you and Neteyam out- you were doing nothing wrong, anyway.

But Neteyam’s mirroring blush said otherwise.

“Time for dinner, boy!” As quick as he announced his presence from a few tents away, Toruk Macto was gone, disappeared into the threshold of his own home.

“Bring your girlfriend!” Neteyam’s younger brother, Lo’ak called out. Following his father he quickly made himself scarse. You felt Neteyam grow rigid at the younger boy’s teasing words.

Your blush deepened, and you cursed yourself for turning into a blushing, dumbstruck girl everytime Neteyam was near.

“I’m uh,” Your heart fluttered everytime the precise, calculated warrior stuttured. “I’m sorry for them, they’re just teasing.” Neteyam looked sincre in his apology, but just as embarrassed as you had been.

You laughed, shooing him away. His searing presence had become too much.

“It’s alright, ma Neteyam.” You giggled, you were obviously unaware of what you had just said. Neteyam felt like a hunter going in for the kill with how aware of your words he was. He was enamoured. So fucking in love with you, it was beginning to hurt. “Go, go have a feast with your family.”

You smiled and Neteyam wanted to commit it to memory, etch it into his brain, a permanent reminder of your glowing nature.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Neteyam returned the smile, stalking his way to his family home.

And maybe it was his broad shoulders, or the way his braids moved as he walked. Maybe it was how confident he made you, or how much you wanted him, you didn’t know. But you could not stop the bold streak that only Neteyam could conjure:

“Neteyam!” You called out, the boy spun, halfway home, brow cocked. “It would be an honour to be your girlfriend, you know!” Echoing the words that his brother had teased him with, you decided not to stay to give him the satisfaction of the last word, you waved goodbye before ducking into your own tent.

Neteyam chuckled, like a young boy in trouble. All the way home.

Later that night, while he was trying to find sleep in his private quarters of his family home. Neteyam tossed and turned in his hammock. His thoughts chasing the ghostly figure of you in his minds eye. As he so often did. But this time, words that he would only imagine you saying were replaced with memory.

Ma Neteyam. Ma Neteyam. Ma Neteyam.

God. He wanted nothing more than to be yours. To court you, to mate you, to build a home, create a nest for your eventual tribe of children.

Normally at this point, Neteyam would start to feel guilty, to hold thoughts of you this way in his heart, and dirtier thoughts of you in his head. But as his hand snaked down between his legs, to his throbbing member, Neteyam dwelled on your parting words to him.

It would be an honour to be your girlfriend, you know.

And the guilt did not come for him.

“Children, before we head out to go see the beautiful syaksyuk, I want you all to say a big thank you.” You gestured to Neteyam, and the two other warriors he had conned into chaperoning you and your class. The four adults and twenty-two Na’vi children stood at the precipice of the wild jungle.

“Thank you Ayo’to,” Your class echoed as you placed your hands on the shoulder of the youngest Na’vi warrior that had joined you today, working your way down the line, behind the young men. “Thank you Marek,” you moved along to the shoulders of the next hunter. You found your hands stalling when you reached Neteyam. You went onto your tippy toes, your eyes just peaking over Neteyam’s broad shoulders, giggles rang out from the kids, as one of your hands found Neteyam’s shoulder, the other one wrapping around his taunt bicep.

“Thank you Neteyam.” You said, along with your kids, his honey eyes finding your own and you wished you could live in his line of sight forever.

You pulled away, after leaving your hands a beat too long. You ushered the children to follow you, as your chaperones dispersed themselves around. Smiling to yourself, as you realised that Neteyam bought up the rear, sticking incredibly close to the few children in the back of the group.

So fatherly, so protective, your heart swelled at the sight.

“Neteyam is my brother.” You heard Tuk whisper to another boy in the class, who was watching the man in awe. Smiling softly to yourself, you were so thankful that you had the confidence to accept Neteyam’s offer of protection in the first place.

Neteyam felt the smile plaster itself to his face, as he watched you teach the kids. He felt alive as your tail swished back and forth, happily. As you crouched down to be the same height as your students, to point out flora and fauna, to help them learn and love the gift of nature around them.

He could not help to think how stunning you looked, out here in the morning light of the jungle. How your big, bright eyes glittered when your students answered something right, or engaged in asking questions.

But to his dismay, the two young hunters Neteyam had pulled to help out, noticed your beauty too. And this soured his mood, greatly.

He felt livid as he watched Marek’s trained eyes find their target on your ass. He wanted to punch Ayo’to in his square, stupid face everytime he pulled a large leaf back for you. But, the worst part of it all was that this was Neteyam’s own fucking fault. He offered additional help, he picked these two grunts.

He was incredibly unhappy with his choices.

As you held a slender finger to your plush lips, signaling for the kids to be quiet as you ushered them into a clearing, Neteyam felt guilty for his sudden shift in mood. You were so stunning, so happy. You did not notice how the other two men treated you. You were so focused on the kids, on their education, on their happiness.

Neteyam felt a tug on his hand, Tuk had almost ignored him the whole walk, enraptured with everything you had said.

“What’s wrong Neteyam?” Tuk asked, her voice no louder than a whisper. Neteyam loved his sister, loved her keen eye for her family. He noticed that she shared that keen eye with you, too. Like you were her family, too.

“Shh, nothing, go sit with the others and listen to (y/n).” Neteyam urged Tuk on. The young girl quickly sat in the grass with the other children, their eyes trained on their teacher, despite their surroundings.

That was just another thing Neteyam found himself loving about you. Your ability to hold a room, to command attention without explicitly asking for it. He smiled to himself as he thought it was a great trait for a Tsahik.

“Kids we must be quiet, must be still as we wait for the syaksyuk.” You walked from the front of the class, to the back, watching them as every Na’vi child had their eyes glued to the tree canopy, waiting for any sign of the blue and yellow primates.

“You’re a great teacher.” One of the hunters, Marek, had suddenly appeared next to you, whispering in your right ear. "Maybe you could teach me something, sometime." You blushed at the young man’s comments, but it was not the same blush you held for Neteyam. It was different. You were in discomfort.

“Thank you,” You willed yourself to remain calm, remain professional, in a hushed voice to not scare away the syaksyuk, or be loud enough for the children to hear. “I appreciate that you’ve given time to assist me and my class today.” You kept your words clipped, hoping that your tone and lack of eye contact would push your feelings clearly.

Though you doubt the boy, the man, Marek, you doubted the fact that he cared much about your feelings.

“Is anyone courting you, (y/n)?” You felt the hunter’s hot breat fan across your neck, you felt like his prey, trapped against his chest and an invisible wall of professionalism standing behind your class. You knew there was nothing explicit in his question, outright. But it was the lewd undertones that had you nervous.

Where was Neteyam?

“I do not think that is an appropriate question, Marek.” You wished your words had not fallen out of your mouth, shakily, but they had. They had and now he knew you were nervous.

Where the fuck was Neteyam?

Neteyam was seeing red, was fuming.

Marek had crossed a line getting so close to you, that was a given. But as Neteyam watched the bead of sweat roll down your face, watch as your eyes flicked back and forth in front of you, that was enough.

Silently, as to not interrupt the children’s viewing of the syaksyuk, Neteyam made his way over.

He heard Marek ask about courting.

He heard your curt reply. But between your words he could hear your uneasy nature. He could hear the rising panic.

“You’re excused, Marek.” Neteyam put his hand out to you, relief flooded him as you quickly pulled yourself against his arm and chest, a beat away from Marek and his looming figure.

“But-” Neteyam cut the hunter off, sick of seeing his stupid face.

“I want you gone, now. Be quick and quiet about it.”

You felt like a fool, holding onto Neteyam’s strong hand for dear life. Marek wouldn’t have done anything to you here, not infront of the kids. But it was the fear of it, creeping around in the back of your mind that upset you, nonetheless.

“Yes Sir.”

You watched quietly as Marek fled through the brush of the jungle. Silent like the hunter he was. You watched as he pulled the other young hunter, Ayo’to along with him.

It was you, and Neteyam, and the kids, of course.

“Are you alright, ma (y/n)?” Neteyam asked softly, pulling your back to his toned chest, his chin resting on the top of your head, large, muscled arms snaking around your waist to hold you tightly against him. Protecting you from any harm.

You could not help but to lean into his touch, lean into your love for the man. You knew your brain would pick itself raw over the use of that prefix later, now was for you and him. Now was for your kids and the swinging syaksyuk that had appeared through the canopy.

You rested your hands on top of his own, “I’m alright now, ma Neteyam.” You whispered as the kids began to ooh and ahh at the syaksyuk. Giggling as the primates chattered through the trees.

You allowed yourself to laugh with the kids, allowed your mind to wander to the daydreams you have of loving Neteyam. Allowed yourself to conjure and image of your firstborn sitting on his father’s shoulders, enraptured with the world around them.

You let yourself feed into that dream as you felt Neteyam’s very real lips ghost over your hairline, above your left ear. He left nothing but a thought of a kiss there, and you felt that same blooming in your chest.

“Have dinner with me tonight.” Neteyam gently whispered once more, this time laying a tangible, corporeal kiss above your ear.

You could’ve folded, in half, then and there if it wasn’t for Neteyam’s strong hold.

“Anything you want, Neteyam.” You whispered back to him, cocking your head to look up at him. You noticed the muscle flick in his jaw as he looked ahead, pretending not to see your line of sight. Gently, you placed a small kiss on his jawbone. Featherlight, it could’ve vanished if he wished it to.

You hoped he did not wish it to.

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xhmeusworld · 5 months

Text

a perfectly good heart | jeon wonwoo

genre: angst, comfort! bf wonwoo, established relationship

pairings: jeon wonwoo x gender neutral reader

warnings: reader is going through a difficult time, mentions of depression, and reader makes a comment about not wanting to exist

word count: 871

note: lately life has just been throwing me for a loop and as a result, i wrote this. i just want everyone to know that you have a purpose in life. regardless of how big or small, it means so much that you are here and my messages are always open to talk.

no one understands another’s pain. not truly.

words and actions can only explain so much, but no matter what someone says, the extensiveness of the pain can not be conveyed. that’s what you thought.

but as jeon wonwoo held you against him, he swore he could feel everything. the pure turmoil and agony. it felt like his soul was on fire, the flames forcing their way out and racing across his limbs.

the shakes that tore through your body and the struggled breaths through the tears made him hold you tighter, wanting to do anything to provide some sort of comfort. some sort of relief to the despair you felt.

instead, he felt helpless. what could he do? did he have the power to do anything? he wanted to tell you that everything you believed about yourself was wrong. he wanted to tell you that your brain was lying. he wanted to tell you so many things, but he wasn’t even sure if you could hear him right now.

your words from earlier rang in his ears.

“life has no set timeline. I understand that. I hear that every single day from so many people and it’s supposed to make me feel better, but it doesn’t. because then I think about it in terms of years and the longer I am floating around without a plan or a goal, the less likely I am to feel connected to everyone around me. I don’t want to be left behind. I don’t want to be the friend that is left alone; still wandering through life while everyone else has careers.”

the future was a scary thought. wonwoo understood that. the unknown of where you could end up in five years was terrifying, especially with no set plan. but sometimes things like this were meant to happen. maybe you were being led onto another path that you just didn’t know about yet.

“and I feel like I’m such a bad friend to literally everyone. i can hardly muster up the courage or energy to speak to some of closest friends. they have reached out, but i just find myself unable to reply and it hurts because i know the despair i’m feeling is my fault. i am so mentally weak. cutting everyone off makes my soul hurt so bad because I don’t want to hurt anyone, but my brain keeps constantly saying over and over that I’m a burden. I’m annoying. if i reach out, I’m taking time away from their lives; interrupting whatever important thing they have going on. and even through all of this, i’m lonely and i’m scared that everyone will forget me. I know none of this is true. I understand that, but god, I feel so weak and helpless.”

wonwoo wanted to scream. it hurt to hear you admit how lonely you felt and he instantly felt guilty himself as a result of his touring schedule, but you were in no way a burden to him or anyone else in your life. you just weren’t. there was absolutely no way you could be to the l people who loved you the most in the world. you weren’t weak or helpless. you were just scared. he wanted to tell you, he wanted to engrain into your head, that fear was normal. nothing was wrong with you being afraid.

“i’m a disappointment to my parents; to everyone that believed in me. I used to be so happy and now I feel incredibly stupid and I’m just filled with regret and anger. I don’t want to feel like this anymore. I wish I was one of those people who knew exactly what they are doing with their life, but I’m not and I hate it. instead, i’m here with a void in my heart.”

your voice was thick with tears that you were desperately trying to hold back. wonwoo thought you were going to start sobbing right then, but somehow you managed to keep your composure to talk once again.

“i’m just so ashamed myself. I’m so utterly and truly an embarrassment and a failure that sometimes I’m even afraid to face you.”

that’s when your boyfriend grabbed your face, forcing you to make eye contact with him as he insisted almost angrily that you weren’t a failure. you were doing what was best for you. you were trying to take it one day at a time. there was no shame or crime in that. wonwoo was so proud of his person. so so very proud.

“i see no light or hope at the end of the tunnel right now”

these were the last words you spoke before you fully broke down, burying your face into his chest.

and no matter what you thought, jeon wonwoo could feel your pain and he held you tightly against him, tears streaming down his cheeks as well. his grasp tightened with each one of your sobs in hopes that if he only held on a little stronger, maybe he would be able to put you back together. he kissed the top of your head. he whispered that you were safe and loved and that you weren’t alone.

because he knew it hurt to be alone.

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eureka-its-zico · 1 month

Text

Violent Delights Pt. 2

Summary: On a trip with your father to Shanghai, your caravan is overrun. You are taken back to a compound of one of the most ruthless Mafia bosses in all of China: Enishi Yukishiro. Who was in need of a new plaything.

Pairing: Enishi Yukishiro x f!reader

Words: 5.6k

A/N: Whelp. Here we are again. Completely unhinged and riding the train to filth town. While the first one may have been filthy, dare I say, part 2 is like mega filth. Idk if I keep writing parts to this if it’s just going to get more unhinged (you know, porn with plot and all) or what it’ll be. For now, I just hope it’s something everyone can enjoy. Welcome to the deranged part of my brain. Much love 🖤 Jenn

Warnings: This shit is dark besties. It’s dark. Mentions of kidnapping. Dubious consent. Mafia trope. Knife play. Harem. Mentions of violence. Fingering. Voyeurism. Unprotected PnV. Oral sex. Its Smut. It's Filth. Please do not read if you are not 18+ (If I miss anything please let me know).

Part 1

Enishi’s solution to ruining your dress was simply getting rid of it all together.

The moment he’d stepped out of the bath, droplets clinging to the ends of stark white hair and racing down an exposed chest, he made his way to where you sat on the bed. Your hands were still clutching to the fabric - the last known extension of yourself. It didn’t take long for Enishi to easily knock your hands away. A strong grip on your thigh controlling you to keep you from scooting away.

His grip was vicious enough that you knew it would bruise.

The only thing left for you to do was to reminisce on what little was left of your former life. The home you would never see again. The fiancée who you’d been promised to and barely gotten to know. Would he move on easily once everyone heard about what happened? What about your friends? Would the lingering ghost of your presence haunt them in any way, or would they easily dismiss you? The plans you’d had for your life were now a fading memory - left standing inside a burning house. The truly worst thought that plagued you was the thought of your father’s body floating out into the Pacific Ocean never to be found.

You hadn’t even been able to mourn him, yourself, and your now-dead life. The only thing you could focus on was survival and surviving meant fighting.

And you wanted to fight him.

To claw your nails down the hard plains of his muscles, until they created a river to rival the water on his skin. You wanted to lash out with kicks, slaps, and hate-filled words until it dimmed the look of conquest in his eyes.

You would do anything to prove to him that, just because he’d coaxed your body to come apart on his fingers, it didn’t mean he got to claim you.

You weren’t his.

But Enishi was always in control of everything around him and now that included you.

He was quick to squash your small act of defiance. The arms you’d placed across your chest to help hold what little of your bodice remained - what remained of your dignity - were knocked away. A controlling hand applied pressure on your throat - delicious pressure - just enough to ease you back against the bed. Into the sheets that housed the sweat of your skin and your orgasm that soaked into the cotton fibers.

Enishi kept the pressure of his fingers wrapped delicately on your throat, holding you down, as his free hand tugged and ripped what was left of the top of your dress. Once he worked the material free off your shoulders, it only took a matter of seconds for him to work it down to your hips.

During the whole process, you’d remained motionless for him. Your pulse threaded against the callous digit of his thumb. Deep down you knew he placed it there - perfectly - to take notice of what would make your pulse tick faster.

Enishi was all about control and, while he held you on the bed, you practiced your own form of control to not show him how his roaming eyes affected you. The way they darkened - darker than shadows - as his gaze drank in every inch of your body he revealed.

You fought to keep your breathing even; your face expressionless. You didn’t want to give him the satisfaction of showing him a hint, one fucking ounce of emotion, besides hatred. A hatred you were struggling to hold onto as he drew his fingertips to trace across your collarbone, dipping down between your breasts.

It was such an intimate touch. One Enishi didn't deserve to give. In that one touch, it held the exploration of a lover, but a tenderness you hadn’t expected. Not from a man like him. It made your brain struggle against what it was shown, what he’d done, and the softness of his next touch.

You’d remained unmoving through so much. You didn’t struggle when he knocked your hands away or fight him while he removed your dress from your shoulders, or wrapped his fingers around your neck like his long fingers were meant to grasp it. Through all of this, you were a good girl and didn't move.

Not until he touched you so sweetly, and his eyes lost the hard edges of demand. The soft dimming of control exposed something else you weren’t ready to see.

You knew the minute Enishi felt your pulse speed up. The sneer at the thought of winning wore itself plainly on his face, and whatever softness his previous touch had lulled inside your consciousness quickly evaporated.

All your earlier rage sparked fresh and all attempts to obey were wiped away. Without thinking, your hand lashed out and you felt your palm connect with his cheek. The sound of flesh meeting flesh fell heavy in the room. Enishi’s face didn’t even move from the impact, but before your hand was able to drop, you found your wrist caught tight in his hand.

His grip tightened - tighter, tighter - until blackness cropped in your vision. You thought this was it. This would be the moment he finally discards you, possibly kills you, like you’d witnessed him do so many times to so many others - your father - in the few days you’d been held prisoner in his room.

You welcomed the idea of oblivion. No longer being a prisoner to uncomfortable change - a prisoner to thoughts of a man who held you captive - and maybe Enishi could feel it too. Or maybe he just meant to get you close to the edge before he brought you back with your lungs greedily sucking in air through a cough.

Enishi’s hold on your neck remained, but the wrist he’d held captive was gone. His free hand was back to violently tugging, pulling, what remained of your skirts. The rich baritone of his voice carried as if he was yelling. His words deepened and rose in tone while he jerked on the last bit of your skirt until you heard the tearing of cloth crack like thunder.

You were jarred by the burst of cold that hit you. Then came the shock of realizing he’d completely removed your entire dress and your underclothes. You were naked before him, and Enishi hungrily drank every inch of your exposed skin.

You attempted to cover yourself. A choked sound of shock made its way past your lips as your legs tried to rise up off the mattress, your hands back to guarding your chest. Again, Enishi shoved them away. His hand gripping behind your knee to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

This time Enishi slotted himself between your legs and a gasp you refused to name etched itself into your throat.

Unlike the first time, there was no cloth, no dress, to keep away the feeling of his cock as it pressed against your folds. Nothing to keep him from seeing your arousal - the way your body shamelessly hungered for him. His eyes were transfixed on your cunt and the way it coated his hardening cock.

You watched his cock swell and grow in length - thick, so impossibly thick - pressed against your cunt and inches away from your entrance. For a brief moment, you were almost compelled to beg, to plead and cry for him to destroy you. Your mind selfishly followed the desire that flooded your body. A need so potent to know what it felt like for your cunt to stretch around him, and to feel the delicious searing pain as he pushed deeper and deeper until you threatened to burst.

You knew the raw power Enishi wielded. You’d witnessed it dozens of times whether it was in the form of violence or sex. He was always in control and maybe that’s why you didn’t want to be just another tally added to the list. A conquest he’d have the satisfaction of claiming.

He spoke again. While you couldn’t understand his words, what it was he truly meant, the fire in his eyes told you plainly: you were his.

You belonged to Enishi, and he would not be denied what he claimed as his.

You waited to feel the tip of his cock press at your entrance, and it left the air in your lungs suspended in anticipation. Your eyes took in the rise and fall of his own chest and realized for the first time it wasn’t steady. He was breathing fast as his eyes roamed over your body and you realized, for the first time, maybe he wasn’t as in control as he wanted to be.

In a dizzying moment, you went from being pinned back against the bed, embarrassingly ready to let him fuck you, to feeling the absence of his demanding touch. Enishi released the hold he kept on your neck and moved away from the bed. The sound of his feet padding across the floor was enough to tell you his presence was still here.

You wanted to get up but you knew what was coming. The sound of the chain rattling in the distance was a reminder of the nightly routine you’d fallen into since you’d arrived at the compound. Before Enishi went to sleep he always made sure you were secured to one of the marble pillars that lined the grandeur of his bedroom. You waited for him to come back, to grab you by your arm and haul you off the bed.

Except this time that’s not what happened.

Enishi grabbed you by your arm but only to force you up towards the headboard. Once he had you where he wanted, he released his hold on you and moved to wrap the chain around your right ankle and locked the lock into place. You watched, dumbfounded, as he wrapped the other end of the chain to the wooden leg of the bed frame.

You couldn’t ask him what he was doing or why he was doing it. What it was that suddenly made him decide to chain you closer, closer to him, in his room, and what that meant for you. All you could afford to do was guess his intentions, his next steps, by the body language he rarely showed outside of rage. You barely knew Japanese and it’d become painfully apparent Enishi spoke both Japanese and Chinese. Neither one of them you understood.

You were pulled from your thoughts by the mattress tipping as his weight distributed on the bed. Your body swayed gently as if pushed by a wave until he settled back into the sheets. He barely covered himself in the soft goose-down comforter, the deep v of his hips devilishly exposed, with his head resting against his arm with those endlessly dark eyes trained solely on you.

How did you know he was looking at you when you refused to acknowledge him? Your spine was brutally straight and unyielding to lie back against the soft cradle the bed provided. The answer was simple. When Enishi’s eyes were on you, it sent an electric current of want and fear - a maddening mixture - to flare across your skin.

Just like now.

He spoke to you. His words ghosted over your exposed skin like an intimate caress that seized you as violently by the throat as his hand had earlier. His words were drenched in a drowsy alto that only seemed to grow deeper the longer he spoke. Enishi was so close to sleep and yet…

Your body lurched forward at the callous touch of his fingers drifting over your hip. It earned the sound of a deep chuckle that burrowed itself inside the marrow of your bones and took ownership.

——

At some point in the refusal you’d strongly held on to not falling asleep beside him, you’d done exactly that. You were woken up by one of the concubine’s, Keiko, you believed was her name, raised up in caution. She was Enishi’s favorite concubine from the few days you’d been here. She never protested to anything he did to her or objected to what he asked. Not that you would know what he said, because you couldn’t understand.

And here she was kneeling beside the bed. A bed that was now empty of Enishi’s presence - the whole room empty of it - with just Keiko and you being the only souls inside. You were suddenly very aware that you were still very much naked. Keiko didn’t appear to be the least bit fazed and offered you a small smile to try and ease your panic.

“The master - he asked me to prepare a bath for you.”

It surprised you how well she spoke your native tongue. The surprise displayed on your face no doubt was the reason a smile spread across her face. Warm and bright enough to make you forget for a split second where you were. Who she was.

“Would you like a warm bath?”

Did she even have to ask? You couldn’t answer her right away. A sharp nod of your head was the only response you were able to give as your mind mulled over her words.

Master.

It’s what she’d called him without hesitation and with no hint of disdain tinging her words. A part of you wondered if she enjoyed calling him that - if she called him that while he buried himself to the hilt inside her.

A flash of jealousy flared in your chest as you followed her to the washroom. As quickly as it rose up, you were just as quick to squash it. Bury it down, down, down inside the graveyard of your mind and refuse to allow yourself to dig it back up.

Keiko pushed open the washroom door and, when you stepped inside behind her, found a Japanese soaking tub full of warm water.

A bath. A real honest-to-goodness bath.

It’d been so long since your skin was scrubbed clean. You weren’t sure if you were allowed to just step right inside the steaming water or if you would need to wait for Keiko’s instructions. In the end, you focused on the latter and when she gave you another soft smile, her hand gesturing towards the tub, you didn’t hesitate to sink beneath the water.

When you surfaced from the water a sigh made its way from deep in your chest. A bath couldn’t soothe everything, but it was enough to help make you feel human again. You were leaning against the side of the tub, your head back and eyes closed, enjoying the warmth of the water, when soft fingers began to massage your scalp.

Your body involuntarily jerked away and you spun to see who touched you. It felt silly. You knew it was Keiko. It could only be Keiko and yet, you couldn’t swallow past the dread that lodged itself inside your throat. Your own heart pounded like a caged beast against your ribs.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to frighten you. I only want to help wash your hair.”

Keiko’s hands were where you’d left them: splayed open with the suds of soap and the scent of bergamot lifting up to greet you. She didn’t push you to return to her. She waited patiently for the panic to subside before she gently motioned for you to return.

“Can I wash your hair for you?”

“Yes. Yes.”

It’d been so long since you've used your voice, aside from yesterday when Enishi had torn curses and moans from you. A memory that sent heat rising to your cheeks that you quickly tried to hide by giving your back to Keiko, offering up your head for her to finish what she started.

After you were properly bathed, and your skin and hair were drying with scent of oils, you expected to be brought a kimono. If not a kimono at least a robe. So, when Keiko instructed you to sit back on the bed after she’d combed your hair, with no clothing in hand, the first real sting of panic began to bloom.

You watched her while she moved around the room. Her hands tidied up areas and her eyes carefully trained on her task at hand. Never on you.

You knew better than to ask her if you could have any clothing items. You were sure part of the instructions Enishi gave her also dictated what you could be given after you were made clean, which was nothing. Enishi was going to make you wait for him with no way to hide your body.

A wave of blinding rage overtook you in that moment. The realization that you weren’t even being given the dignity of having clothes, a robe, or a fucking towel, to cover yourself with made you want to scream. You wanted to tear him apart. Instead, you scooted back farther on the bed, your legs working closer together with your balled-up hands in your lap and your arms desperately trying to cover your breasts.

You were completely lost in your thoughts. So lost, you hadn’t even realized when Keiko departed the room. You didn’t realize you were alone until the sound of the door opening and closing brought you out of your thoughts and back to the present.

It was Enishi and Keiko who’d walked back inside the room. Keiko was closing the bedroom door behind her while Enishi walked further inside. His hands were tucked inside the large open sleeves of the amber and cerulean Haori draped over his body that matched the hakama pants he wore. The material looked finally woven - silken - and expensive. The hakama was cinched tight on his powerful waist and against a thick black vest material. A pair of small glasses adorned his face and sat low on the edge of his nose.

It felt surreal seeing him dressed. You’d grown so accustomed to his naked frame moving with intensity, power, around the room - commanding to be witnessed. The clothes he wore now did little to dim that unspoken demand.

He made his way over to the desk in the corner of the room. Not one ounce of his body showed any sign of acknowledging your presence. He simply pulled his hands free from inside his Haori and placed a scroll, rolled tight and sealed with black string, inside a glass jar.

A part of you was beginning to worry. The whiplash of going from panic, rage, and now fear made you dizzy, but you needed to focus. Focusing meant you realized not even Keiko acknowledged your existence. It felt silly to be worried about the lack of a look because shouldn’t you want to be invisible? To go unnoticed?

The sound of rustling brought you back from your thoughts. A flash of amber drew your eyes back to Enishi who removed his Haori and left it dangling over the back of a chair. No longer were his eyes intent on his scroll, his desk, or anything else. The discontent you felt at being ignored was now answered with the full attention of his gaze.

You immediately dropped your gaze from watching him make his way towards you. The sound of his glasses being placed on his small table made your hands squeeze tighter together. Your knees press closer. Enishi was almost to you and the only thing your brain could think to do was two options: run or hide.

Enishi must have known because his pace quickened and, within a few more steps, he was in front of you. His fingers pressing underneath your chin and forcing it up to bring your gaze to meet his.

You didn’t know if it was night or day. If you would ever see the outside of this room again. If you’d leave this compound wrapped in cloth or on your own two feet. If one day you’d get to remember what it felt like to be free. The only thing you did know for certain was the look in Enishi’s eyes was a warning of what was to come.

He kept a tight grip on your chin, refusing to give an inch, as he spoke. His Japanese was commanding, harsh, and left no room to be disobeyed. Enishi words weren’t directed at you, you realized, but to Keiko who was still in the room. You couldn’t see her any longer. Enishi didn’t allow you to look at anyone - anything - that wasn’t him, but you could hear the shuffling of her feet. The soft sound of her kimono as it rustled until she came to a stop.

“Master has instructed that, starting tomorrow, I will tutor you in Japanese.”

Why?

Why did it matter if you could speak Japanese or understand him? It wasn’t like you were brimming with conversations that could be had about art or philosophy. Did he think you would learn and you’d both what? What did Enishi want from you?

“To be able to speak without me present.”

Keiko’s words jolted you out of your thoughts. Had the question left your mouth without you being aware of it? It must have happened because Keiko answered.

He spoke again and released the hold he kept on your chin. You were about to search for where Keiko stood when you felt Enishi’s hands dip between the mattress and your legs. You didn’t have time to think, to try and comprehend what was about to happen. One minute you were sitting upright on the bed fighting for modesty and the next your back was against the sheets.

It was the surprise of it that trapped your next breath in your lungs. It quickly escaped in a yelp of surprise when his hands pulled you closer to the edge of the bed again. Your hands lashed out to find purchase in the sheets, to pull you away, but you knew it was pointless. It wasn’t until Enishi had your ass hanging halfway off the bed that he stopped pulling and used both hands to spread your legs wide.

The suddenness of having your cunt exposed to the room - to him - caused a scream to tear free from your throat. Your hands scrambled to peel his hands away from your thighs. The hands that kept your legs pried open under his watchful gaze. The thunderous sound of his words ricocheted off the stone walls and, for a split second, the fear from his voice, the fury behind it, left your body still. Keiko was quick to tell you what he said.

“He said behave or he’ll tie them open.”

You watched him as she spoke. Enishi’s eyes were no longer dark with desire but were replaced by something fiercer, darker. One that requires obedience and would accept nothing less. You knew he meant it. The words he spoke and forced Keiko to share in warning. If you didn’t give him this, give him your body freely without a fight, he would punish you for it.

You fought to relax your legs in his grip and to hide your shame you tried to turn away from him. To hide yourself back inside the sheets once more.

You should’ve remembered your lesson from yesterday.

The minute you went to turn away, close your eyes, Enishi’s fingers dug into your cheeks and brought you back to face him. Another angry shout. You didn’t need Keiko to tell you what he meant - what he wanted.

When Enishi was sure you wouldn’t try it again, that your eyes were focused where they needed to be - on him - he drew his hand away from your face. His fingers lazily traced a path along the curve of your jaw, a thumb under your lips, and down to the hollow of your throat. As he etched out a path along your body his eyes followed with each movement of his fingers causing his pupils to grow wider, ever wider, with lust until his entire iris disappeared.

A shaky breath rattled through your bones. A sound that only seemed to excite him more. His fingers moved between your breasts and his eyes caught sight of the perfect imprint he’d left of his teeth in the soft skin. The pad of his index finger lazily swam up to trace along the bruising flesh. His next words registered so low, almost non-existent, you weren’t even sure if he’d spoken. It wasn’t until Keiko spoke his next question that you knew he had.

“The Master - he wants to know if you’re married. If you’ve…been with any men.”

What should you say? You weren’t a virgin. You knew the desire and wants of men. How a woman’s body could turn them into helpless fools when they confused a woman’s sex for love. You were engaged to be married and you and your fiancée hadn’t waited for your wedding night.

You could vaguely recall your fiancée’s touch. The way you felt. It wasn’t anything like the way Enishi made you feel. A hard truth that you loathe to admit even to yourself, but a truth nonetheless. You’d both been fumbling in the dark and while your fiancée had come, you hadn’t experienced a real orgasm until Enishi had been knuckle deep inside your cunt.

You refused to tell him this.

If you told him you’d had plenty of lovers would he throw you out? Discard you?

Your train of thought came to a screeching halt when two of his fingers moved through your folds to scissor your clit. You sucked in a shuddering breath. Your hips dipped down against the bed as your back arched up. You tried to keep your moan housed inside your body but Enishi began to massage the pads of his fingers against your swollen clit, driving a cry of pleasure to tear free from you. Your legs involuntarily clamped shut around his arm and Enishi was quick to punish you. His free hand smacking down on your thigh that only coupled with the pleasure of the next flick of his fingers.

The hard smack against your thigh was enough to release his arm, and Enishi dropped to his knees between your thighs. You wanted to ask what he was doing - demand to know. All thoughts were silenced as he gave one last stroke of his fingers before he pushed both between your folds.

The minute you felt the delicious pressure of his fingers another moan crawled its way up your throat. It quickly turned into a scream at the feeling of Enishi’s teeth biting down into the soft flesh of your inner thigh. Pain and pleasure melded together until you weren’t sure if the sparks behind your eyes was from the curve of his fingers inside your cunt or the way your nerves came to life under the pressure of his teeth.

He pulled away just enough - his voice guttural - to ask his question again. Again Keiko repeated it and with the next curve of Enishi’s fingers, curving, curving up, up, you felt yourself close to breaking. You were about to give him the answer that he craved, coaxed, out of your body. You would’ve told him right then and there as his thumb massaged your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you, when he growled his next words in English.

“Answer. Me.”

It wasn’t perfect, but those two words didn’t have to be for them to make the impact they did.

“I was engaged.” You huffed out. “I was going to be married.”

You couldn’t tell if Keiko relayed your answer to him. You weren’t sure of anything except the coil that was tightening low in your belly, tighter and tighter. A mewling sound filled the room and was growing in octaves. It took you a moment to realize it was you making the sound, but it was the only moment of clarity you had before you felt something unexpected.

Enishi’s fingers removed themselves from your cunt with a squelch. Before you had time to mourn the loss of him, his mouth latched over your mound. His tongue mapping out a figure 8 between your folds.

Your chest collapsed in a moan that violently rippled through your body. Your legs shook and you tried to find purchase, to hold onto something while the waves of pleasure rolled through your body. Another roll of his tongue and the feel of his lips gently suckling at your clit sent your body spiraling. Your hands fisting deep to the roots of his hair - pulling, pulling, and it didn’t feel enough.

Another breathless moan shuddered through your body. What Enishi was doing felt salacious - under heard of. Your mind raced to remember if any of your girlfriends shared stories of their suiters, fiancées, ever latching their mouths to their cunts. Their tongue greedily lavished relentless strokes - the way Enishi did now - as your body trembled in his palms. Your hands fisting his hair harder at the root.

You were sure Enishi would let go. Punish you for touching him this way. His hands only dug further under the mattress and took hold of your hips, to bring your cunt closer to his mouth. It allowed his tongue to fuck into you; three solid thrusts before he stopped.

Keiko was still in the room. You knew she was. She had to be. Enishi hadn’t dismissed her and you knew they wouldn’t just take it upon themselves to just leave without being given the order. The thought alone should’ve been enough to drive the cloud of desire from your mind but it wasn’t. A sick thrill of the thought that for once they were watching Enishi take pleasure in you only peaked your arousal.

The coil that’d been tightening low in your lower abdomen grew and grew. Your fingers dug tighter in his hair and you did something that, if you’d been in your right mind, you’d have felt the heat of shame on your cheeks.

You didn’t have time for shame right now.

Your hips moved up to meet the next thrust of his tongue. Eager and wanton in chasing your own release. You wanted to come on his tongue. To coat those pretty lips in the memory of how you tasted long after he’d finished with you. It was in the next flick of his tongue that sent you barreling over the edge.

You thought you were screaming the way your mouth tore open, but no sound came out. It was shuddering breaths that shook free from your chest. You were well aware Enishi was still between your thighs. His tongue hungrily lapping up every last drop your orgasm offered until a quiver of a whimper came from your lips. Your hands that had fisted in his hair to keep him there were now trying to push him away. Your clit overstimulated and sensitive to the touch.

Oh, so deliciously sensitive.

Enishi pried his mouth from your cunt and you wanted to take a moment of pride at the sight of your arousal around his mouth. His chin. You watched as he worked the metal latches on his vest off one-by-one until it dropped to the floor. He worked his way out of the hakama and let it fall at his feet.

His cock sprang free from the fabric aching and hard. You watched, wanton and eager, as Enishi took his cock in his hand and stroked it. He was already hard, painfully hard, so you knew it was meant for you to watch. So, you watched a pearl of precum leak from his tip. You watched his thumb gently smear it like lubricant before he moved to the edge of the bed. With his hands back under your hips, Enishi aligned his tip with your entrance and in one hard thrust was inside you.

Your walls gripped him tightly as Enishi pushed his way into you. You knew he felt it too - the tightness, the resistance that your cunt offered. You could feel it in the way his hips stuttered and the sharp exhale that escaped him once he was fully sheathed inside of you.

You didn’t have time to prepare for the stretch - the searing delicious, oh so, so, delicious pain - that came as your cunt tried to accommodate his thickness. You remember seeing him. You remembered imagining what it would feel like to have him take you and to feel him break you and make you anew. With the next role of his hips you felt your lips part to give praise just as he bottomed out.

Your fiancée didn’t feel like this. Your fiancée hadn’t fucked like this.

Enishi moved your hips further off the bed. His hands pulling you up at an angle that on the next thrust created stars to spark behind your eyes. He pulled your thighs up towards his hips and somehow it only deepened the next. Deeper, deeper, until you threatened to hollow out. The wet sounds of your bodies meeting over and over began to fill the room and you felt yourself becoming lost.

With each unrelenting brutal thrust of his hips, Enishi claimed more and more of you. You struggled to remember why that was a bad thing. How could it be so bad when he made you feel so good?

You were trying to remind yourself of what he’d done - who he was, but with his face inches from yours, your mind went blank. You didn’t know why your hands cupped his face or your thumb touched the small bell of his earring. Enishi was so close, so vulnerable, that for a split second you believed if you brought him down to kiss you, his mouth would’ve eagerly met yours.

In all the times you’d watched him fuck his concubine’s - women like Keiko - you never witnessed him sharing a kiss with any. He used their bodies relentlessly. He broke them and whittled them down to puddles of sweat and come. Never did he kiss them. Never was he truly intimate with any of them.

Did he want to know the intimacy of your mouth? To claim you fully in a way he hadn’t claimed any other?

It was a question that remained unanswered because with the next brutal thrust of his hips your world exploded. Your nails found a home in the groove of his back and dug in as your orgasm overtook you. It felt endless as his cock continued to stroke your walls until you felt his hips give one last thrust and, seconds later, felt his spend spill fill you.

For a brief moment, you should’ve been worried but you couldn’t think past your racing heart and aching body.

The afterglow of the moment quickly vanished and the two of you were left a sweaty, heaving mess. You were painfully aware how close you both were - foreheads almost completely touching - and it made you wonder, if only for a moment, if anything changed. Your hand ached to reach out and push the sweaty strands of hair out of his face.

Your chest was tight with a need to bridge the few inches between you. Enishi hadn’t shook away your hands that were still cupping his face. There was no denying in such a small confined space that his eyes were lingering on your mouth.

Did something change?

You received your answer a moment later when Enishi violently tore himself from you leaving you raw and aching alone on the bed. You were vaguely aware of him barking orders at someone - most likely Keiko - as his padded feet stormed off to the bathroom. The door slamming shut behind him.

___________

As always, thank you so much for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated.

___________

Tag list: @ellisaworld @missroro @ram716 @misfits1a

#Violent Delights #enishi yukishiro #enishi yukishiro x reader #enishi yukishiro x you #enishi x reader #enishi x you #enishi yukishiro fanfiction #enishi yukishiro smut #rurouni kenshin #rurouni kenshin the final #mackenyu #mackenyu characters #99% smut and 1% filth

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rayshippouuchiha · 1 year

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TBH the lack of Real Respect Tsuna and Skull both get makes me wanna see ‘em just… Vanish. They aren’t hurt, or in trouble, but they both end up tired as hell and want like. One (1) year to themselves, without being called shit like useless or lackey or weak. So they fuck off and onto some whimsical journey across the world, probably running into the fair folk or some shit (because Tsuna’s Super Anxiety would make him a damn hard target for them, and I feel like they’d just Vibe with Skull. Immortal and all that).

Meanwhile, everyone back in Namimori is losing. their. shit. Trying to find their two dumbasses, flipping every damn stone over because they’ve Clearly been kidnapped. No One notices the note Tsuna and Skull left, because Skull still isn’t the best at writing and Tsuna’s Super Anxiety kicked in and said that if he wrote it he’d never get his goddamn vacation.

To clarify, this is meant to be (mostly) humorous, but I’m curious to see where you’d go with an idea like this. I just want Skull and Tsuna to travel the world together TBH. Feel like they’d make good brothers.

Oh oh yes. Obviously there'll be humor but, well, it's me and we all know how these things eat my brain and I have to give them some bite so:

Skull isn't really one of Arcobaleno that Tsuna generally spends much time with.

When it comes to the Strongest, the ones Tsuna's found himself spending the most time with has always been Reborn and, surprisingly enough, Fon.

Reborn is around more often than not, content to keep torturing Tsuna even if his official title has shifted from Demon Tutor to Demon Tutor/Advisor.

And Fon's tendency to stop by frequently can be chalked up to I-pin and the fact that, for some reason, the Storm seems to be under the impression that hanging around Tsuna will, somehow, help him grow closer to Hibari.

Which is something that doesn't really make much sense to Tsuna. Even after years of being dragged into and out of various ridiculous shenanigans together, and despite recent Hibari's tendency to commandeer Tsuna's bed or floor or balcony at random times to nap, Tsuna's still not convinced that Hibari actually remembers he exists whenever they're not in the same room together.

And sometimes not even then.

A part of Tsuna also suspects that the "Small Animal" title he carries now might just be Hibari's way of getting around the fact that he doesn't remember Tsuna's actual name anymore.

It is, much like most everything else involving Hibari and Tsuna's thoughts about him, confusing and difficult for Tsuna to make up his mind about.

So, besides Reborn's continued sadism and Fon regularly attempting to use Tsuna as some kind of emotional Switzerland and/or human sacrifice to Hibari, Tsuna tends to see the other Arcobaleno on a bit of a floating schedule.

Viper, as Reborn has taken to insisting everyone outside of the Varia call the Mist, tends to blip in and out every once in a while. Often bringing news from Xanxus and leaving with anything strawberry flavored in Tsuna's house and whatever money he might have in his wallet at the moment.

Lal Mirch and Colonello tend to arrive and depart together, attached at the hip now no matter how much they bicker.

Verde's version of checking in seems to come in the form of sending whatever new robot or nightmare construct he's thought of to attack Tsuna and "gather data".

But Skull?

Tsuna rarely sees Skull.

The Cloud floats in and out of town only rarely and never stays longer than absolutely necessary. Often times he's gone within the hour.

Which is, in Tsuna's opinion, actually kind of a shame.

Because the thing is, Tsuna actually likes Skull.

Oh, he hadn't a few years ago when they'd first come across each other.

No back then Tsuna had hated each new and increasingly ridiculous trap/trick/shenanigan and situation Reborn had managed to push him into.

Skull had just been another irritation on a rapidly increasing list of things Tsuna hadn't wanted to deal with.

But ,,,

Well, it hadn't taken Tsuna long to realize that Skull and he were much more alike than he'd ever thought possible back at the beginning.

And now, with a few years of Reborn and this mafia headache under his belt?

Now Skull's someone that Tsuna wouldn't actually mind seeing more of.

Even though he knows it's not likely to happen.

Mainly because Tsuna's not actually a complete idiot no matter what some people still seem to think.

Tsuna's seen enough interactions between Reborn and Skull to have a pretty good idea about where some of the chips in that relationship fall.

Plus Hyper Intuition is helpful for more than just life-or-death battles these days even if Tsuna's not made that fact as openly obvious as he might once have.

It's yet another area in which Tsuna's found he can sympathize with Skull.

Because Tsuna also has a hyper-violent sadist he half wishes he could care less about sometimes.

Which is why Tsuna's so surprised to see a familiar pair of leather-clad legs dangling over the edge of the roof when he steps out onto his balcony, desperate to escape the screaming and general chaos that has once again taken over his house.

Tsuna goes to call out only for that familiar flare of warning heat to snap his mouth closed.

Instead Tsuna does something that he wouldn't have been able to a few short years ago.

He reaches up, grabs the edge of his roof in one hand, and pulls himself up onto the tiles above him.

When he's kneeling on the roof a few seconds later Tsuna finds himself glad that he didn't make too much noise, glad that he didn't draw any attention to Skull.

Because Skull's currently laid out on Tsuna's roof, legs dangling over the side but arms pillowed behind his head, helmet settled at his hip and eyes trained on the night sky and face almost eerily blank.

It is, Tsuna can't help but think, the quietest he's ever seen Skull.

It's honestly a little unsettling.

But, worst of all somehow in Tsuna's opinion, is the fact that Skull looks ,,, tired.

He doesn't even bother to greet Tsuna beyond flicking those vibrant violet eyes in his direction before going back to his star gazing.

To Tsuna, Skull has never looked more like everything he was taught a Cloud is supposed to be than in this moment.

Cold.

Illusive.

Bound to drift away.

The thought sends a shiver of premonition down Tsuna's spine.

Tsuna finds himself laying down on the roof beside him, legs dangling over the edge and arms folded behind his head.

Their elbows are just barely brushing.

And all the while a flickering whisper in the back of Tsuna's mind sings.

"I'm tired," Tsuna finds himself saying some silent drawn-out minutes later.

A beat of silence.

"Yeah," Skull sighs, voice lower and smoother than Tsuna has ever heard it before, "me too."

"I," Tsuna pauses, swallows, feels his Intuition surge and sharpen, "I love my friends and I know they care too but sometimes I just ,,,"

Tsuna trails off because he knows that Skull understands without him ever having to finish.

"Wish you could go to sleep and wake up on the opposite end of the world so that maybe you could get some rest and peace before they inevitably find you again?" Skull offers.

"Yes," The answer practically bursts out of Tsuna.

Another beat of silence.

"I've got an airship," Skull announces.

Tsuna hears it for the offer it is.

"They'd find us," Tsuna points out softly, twisting just a bit so he's looking Skull in the face. "They'd hunt us down and drag us both back."

The smirk Skull sends him in return is far darker and slyer than any expression Tsuna's ever seen on his face before.

"Oh, malysh nebo," Skull practically purrs, "they could certainly try."

#RayRambles #KHR #Katekyo Hitman Reborn #Tsuna And Skull's Excellent Adventure AU

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riaarivic · 1 year

Text

HATE 1: Omen (M) I MYG x F!reader

🌙 Pairings YoongixReader

🌙 Genres Mafia!AU, Smut, Angst, Action, Thriller, Enemies to lovers

🌙 Rating 18+ minors DNI

🌙 Summary You were an INTERPOL Agent assigned to infiltrate the depths of the most powerful Gang in South Korea: The Seven Moons. Your objective: to impersonate the daughter of one of their leaders and destroy the operation from within. That is, if they don't discover you first.

And Traitors won’t have the mercy of a quick death

🌙 Warnings For this chapter: mentions of death and vioence, foul language

🌙 Chapter wordcount 831

🌙 Series Index

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11

🌙 HATE 1: Omen 🌙

Heartbeat pulsing slow in my ears. Bump, bump, bump

You were running.

Running like a bat out of hell, darting across the rooftops of a hidden neighborhood within the heart of Seoul. Adrenaline coursed through your veins, propelling you forward as if the demos from your worst nightmares were snapping at your heels.

Don't look down, fuck.

You could hear your heartbeat in your ears and the footsteps of the men who were chasing yoy. They were getting closer to you at a speed greater than you could possibly run.

They were going to catch you.

Your heart pounded louder with each passing second, and the relentless footsteps of the men behind you grew ever closer. They were like shadows, ominously encroaching on your escape route. You couldn't help but think of how it all went down just a few minutes ago.

For a second you have to fight your brain’s urge to yell, "Parkour!" when you jump from the railings from a staircase to a rooftop – even though it would've been hilarious under different circumstances.

"Focus, Y/N," you muttered under your breath.

This was definitely not supposed to happen this way.

This wasn't how things were supposed to play out, and you knew it. Against your better judgment, your instincts, and the damn training you'd gone through, you'd made every wrong move that led you to this edge.

You knew your options were running out and you couldn't keep running forever.

Trying to escape with no avail. Jump, jump, jump.

The road was over.

The road ahead had run its course, leaving you with nothing but a drop of a hundred meters straight down to the Han River. Below it’s waters ran dark, icy and unforgiving.

If you fell, you would fall to a cold painful death.

And fuck, how you hated the cold.

You needed a plan, and you needed it fast, because right now your options were to end the day with a bullet to the head or be found gray and cold floating on the banks of the Han river by the police.

No, it wouldn't be a swift, merciful death.

"Traitors don't deserve the mercy of a quick death."

Those were the chilling words of the former leader of The Clan. Once they sounded like a cautionary tale, now they were a promise.

One last bad decision? Choose, you can't keep running.

You came to an abrupt halt and faced the men who had brought you to this.

The mission had failed. Your cover was blown.

"This is how you die, Y/N." you thought to yourself. You always knew you’d have a violent end. But never thought you would meet death by the hands of someone you loved.

That was the harsh truth. Everything that had the microscopic chance to not go as planned had gone up in flames, then gone wrong.

Like washing your hair the next day you bleached it - wrong.

Like stealing from your mom - wrong.

Like trying to put stilettos on a horse – wrong.

You get it, right?

Because now, you'd rather die to protect them.

The very people you were initially sent to destroy. The same people you were supposed to despise with every fiber of your being, all because you were an agent of the law, and they were criminals.

But that was then, and this is now.

Now, you were willing to make the ultimate sacrifice to buy more time and help them.

Now, you'd choose death over something happening to him.

No song affects me anymore. Crying out a silent cry

“Choose, die in his hands or in yours” again the voice in your head reminded you that you had no real choice anymore.

You dropped your weapon and raised your hands. His eyes remained cold, anger and pain swirling like a tempest in dark his irises. But the rest of his face remained inscrutable.

And he kept pointing his gun at you.

He took a step closer without breaking eye contact, the cold steel of his gun pressing against your temple. He removed the safety and eased off the trigger, not enough to fire.

His hands trembled.

For an instant, you saw your own emotions mirrored in his eyes.

Pure hatred.

Hatred for himself, hatred for you – for making him love you, then betraying him.

And something else that was enough to break you.

Sadness.

You could handle the scorching heat of his hate. Forever if necessary.

But couldn’t stand another second watching how a single cold tear ran down his cheek.

You didn’t deserve to break his heart.

"Do it, you have to." You whispered so softly you weren’t sure he heard you.

The thing was, you knew he didn't want to kill you; he simply couldn't.

And neither could his brothers.

But you had it coming. You'd shattered their trust, broken every rule and code. Betrayed all the oaths you'd sworn.

You broke your oath as an Interpol agent when you started lying to your team to protect them.

And then you broke your oath to them when you exposed their clan to the police.

You'd pledged allegiance to them, wearing their mark on your forearm. And you knew you could’t lie to yourself and say it was because of the mission.

"You have to... If he can't, you have to. It's the only way to keep them all safe." you thougts were frantic. But you knew there was no other way.

You took a step back, still locked in that intense stare, and in that brief moment, he realized your intentions.

You offered him one last smile, then let yourself plummet into the void.

Ocean with all light silenced, shut, yeah, yeah, yeah. My wandering feet held in a rut, yeah, yeah, yeah.

"No!" The anguished screams of the seven men echoed in your ears as you fell.

Their terrified faces would haunt your dreams for eternity.

"I hope you can forgive me." That was your last thought before you faded into darkness.

At what point had everything gone to hell?

When had the deepest hatred transformed into love?

And what was worse, the kind of love worth dying for.

Every noise and sound's been cut yeah, yeah, yeah. Killin' me now, killin' me now. Do you hear me yeah.

🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙🌙 So, Hi. Hello How are you?

I decided I will translate this fic from my original language (Spanish) and post it from wattpad. This is a whole series and I will be changing a few things from the original plot; you can feel free to read it if you want to

Here: Odio || BTS || SUGA x OC x RM || MAFIA AU

I am very proud of this chapter btw 😅 And it feels kind of weird, because most of the times when I reread something i wrote in the past I feel the sudden urge of washing my eyes with bleach and erase it from the face of Eath, forever.

I’m kind of new to posting on Tumblr (Yeah, in 2023) so I will be editing in a while to make reading easier!! If you want to like and reblog that would be highly appreciated and thank You so much for your feedback!!

#bts yoongi #bts smut #bts mafia au #bts mafia series #mafia au #yoongi #bts fanfic #bts #bts au #series #enemies to lovers

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fakegingerrights · 1 year

Text

Walk By Faith (3)

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"I know what you're going to do." The kid, Omega, said, touching his shoulder. Soulful brown eyes that were so much older than her cadet body met his as he glared at her. "But please, don't."

"You don't know anything." He snarled, pulling away from her.

"I know it's not your fault. You can't help it." She whispered. "I'm sorry, Crosshair."

"Go on, Kid." He grunted. Omega gave him one last look, big brown eyes staring into his soul.

He had a job to do, anyways. Crosshair's new grey armor was weird. Despite the dark color it was too new, no scratches or markings on it. He hated it. The walkway to the platform his brothers were leaving from was rain-soaked and smelt like ozone from previous blaster fights.

Crosshair's hand trembled slightly on the trigger. Shot after shot of live round whizzed by his vode's heads. He couldn't land a hit, no matter how hard he tried to follow his orders he couldn't land a hit except a love-tap on Wrecker. His elder brother's startled yelp at the miss.

"Crosshair?" Wrecker mouthed, before ducking behind cover again. Crosshair had had a clear shot and he had missed. Chose to nick Wrecker's shoulder than take off his head. Wrecker was the first to figure it out, then. That something in him wouldn't let him hit his own brothers. In hindsight, he's appalled that he even tried. The blasted headache had him feeling like he was on autopilot, unable to change his course.

Wrecker was the first to notice. That they had a shot of escaping Crosshair. Not Hunter, with his gentle hands and soft words when a member of the Bad Batch was in pain. Not Tech, for all of his intelligence. But Wrecker, sweet, obnoxious, Wrecker. His big brother. As if from a long way off, he heard Wrecker's shout to make a run for the ship.

Tarkin hadn’t been pleased. It was bad enough, that Tarkin was angry. It was worse, when he was ordered for another surgery. He waited on the table for the anesthesia to take effect.

Only it didn’t.

White hot pain, burning through every nerve ending in his body as he fights to claw himself to wakefulness. Soft words, voices of brothers and a natborn, floated around him just between resting and wakefulness, hearing but not comprehending.

Hands, gentle and soft but callused from working with small objects for long periods of time, stroked across his forehead, a thumb dipping down to smooth the creases between his eyebrows that came from his near permanent scowl.

"T'ch?" He tries, his voice hoarse, his eyelids feeling heavier than Wrecker's training weights. There's a soft chuckle above him... female?

"Not Tech, Crosshair."

"Oh..."

His mind fuzzled in and out of consciousness as the ache receded to an unpleasant sensation he couldn't quite describe.

"...M'bones 're wet, Doc."

There's a snort of laughter above him. He frowned slightly as the cool hand moved from his forehead to play with his hand. Wrecker did that a lot when he was nervous.

"That's just the anesthesia talking, Cross. Your bones are perfectly fine." You rolled his long fingers between yours. Crosshair sighed and relaxed a bit. "Wanna try and drink some water?"

A silicone straw was tapped against his lips and he whined softly.

"'S gonna make my bones even more wet." He still managed a few swallows before turning his head away, the remaining water in his mouth spilling out down his chin. You sighed softly and pressed a napkin to the side of his face, something Crosshair scowls weakly at but allows.

"I'm surprised he lets you get this close. Any of us'd lose a finger for that." Crosshair pouts some more, turning his head away from the Reg's voice. "Case in point."

“Let him be, Bev. You did your job, let me do mine.” You put the napkin away.

“I thought you weren’t a nurse.” The Reg’s smug voice is teasing, but it still sends a jolt of rage through Crosshair’s addled brain as he starts the long trek towards proper consciousness.

“I’m not.” Your voice is playfully annoyed. “But he’s my patient. My entire future in research depends on him.” Your hand leaves him and he grumbles slightly, cracking an eyelid open and blinking in an effort to try and clear his vision.

“Your patient. That’s the excuse you’re going with?”

You growl softly. A pretty noise, Crosshair thought idly. “Go on, Bev. He’s fine, you can monitor his EEG from literally anywhere in the facility. You’re stressing him out.”

“Alright, alright.” There’s the sound of a door closing and you sighed heavily, hunching your shoulders.

“Who’s that?” Crosshair rasped, slur diminishing.

“Bev? He’s the one who kept your brain from leaking out of your ears.” You grunt. "Care to fill me in on what you remember?" It's the most unapologetic he's ever heard you, cautious enthusiasm replaced with a long suffering tone.

"Finishing my eyes, I had a headache, then my vision went... odd. Incomprehensible shapes and colors for a second or two. Nothing after that." He listed off.

You shifted beside him, stifling a yawn. "An aura. A state of consciousness that precedes a seizure. You scared me, flopping around like that."

Crosshair frowns a bit more at this. "You're a doctor, and seizures scare you?" He drawls, squinting.

"With a patient like you? Absolutely." You sigh. "Cross, you spent almost seven hours on the table in emergency neurosurgery. Bev got the job done. Barely."

Crosshair glares in your direction. "Why'd you go poking around my head for?" He grunts, sitting up a little more.

"Because your inhibitor chip decided to try and kill you. Between the pressure from your eyes and your inhibitor chip frying your brain we almost lost you."

"Yes, your precious experiment was lost." He ground out. "What's the inhibitor chip for?"

You give an angry huff but ignore the experiment comment. "It's... well, it's a legal mess. It's a biochip in your frontal lobe, the part of your brain that deals with decision making and memory? It changes your thought patterns and memory via electrical stimuli. Normally it's too small to detect but..." You sighed, cracking your knuckles, then your wrists and shoulders. A nervous habit?

"Mine affected me differently?" He guessed.

"No. Yours was amplified. Not long after you and your squad returned from Onderaan."

Crosshair frowned. "So the chip was turned up a bit."

"Enough it was frying your brain from the inside out. Yes."

"And you didn't poke with my eyes?" He asked, fidgeting a little.

"No? Are you alright?" A note of worry broke through the exhaustion in your voice. Crosshair swallowed, closing his eyes.

"It's pitch black in here, Doc."

You froze, stock still as you examined Crosshair’s scowling face as his eyes stared down into nothing.

“Kriff.” You swore eloquently.

Crosshair had also gone ridged, chewing on his lip. His hands, usually so purposeful with their movements skitter around his lap nervously, picking at the blanket and twisting around each other.

You took a deep breath, letting it out slowly as you considered your options. That... complicates things. Heavily.

"Ok. First and foremost, I would like to apologize. While the anesthesia was wearing off you were having a rough time of it, I went to check your stitches and had my hands... pretty much all over your hair. It seemed to calm you down, so I kept the contact as you came out of it. I was unaware you couldn't see my movements and if I startled you or caused you any undue stress, you have my sincerest apologies."

This surprised Crosshair. It took him a moment to speak. "Thanks." He muttered, dexterous fingers still picking at pilling threads on the blanket.

"Second, we'll need to find out what's causing this. I'd like sooner rather than later, but you also should be given time to recuperate after literal brain surgery and weeks of low level electrocution." He could hear the grimace in your tone.

"How invasive are we talking here?" Crosshair asked slowly, having a feeling he'd regret asking. You sighed.

"We shouldn't have to do an internal examination... odds are it's a neural problem that will show up with imaging. Probably.... Probably an MRA scan, followed by a PET scan if that doesn't work out..." You force yourself to take a breath. "Those are the machines that go around you from the outside. Loud and clanky and annoying but they get the job done."

Crosshair relaxed a little more at this.

"There's also the issue of you adjusting to not having your chip. That thing." You spat the words. "Has been altering your perception of reality, your long term memory processing, and even regulation your trauma reactions for weeks, if not longer. I'm wary of putting you in such a sensory intense environment. If you were to suffer a flashback, or a PTSD induced anxiety attack, that would throw off your entire scan, forcing us to stop and start once you're out of it and in a 'neutral' state. And stress is not your friend right now. It would severely delay your healing. I'm not looking forward to my next call with Rampart. But it could be several months until you're even at what you used to be."

Crosshair doesn't say anything for the longest time. "They're going to decom me." He said eventually. "There's no reason to keep me. They pushed too hard and broke me. And now there's no reason to keep me." He scrubbed at his face, going to rub harshly at his eyes.

"Crosshair, you're nowhere near healed!" You scold. "You're going to scratch your cornea."

"Like this shabla empire cares anymore!" He snapped back, his teeth gritted as he pushed himself up into a better sitting position, swaying as the aftereffects of anesthesia screw up his sense of balance and he sways.

"Crosshair, take it easy." Your voice is tired. "I'm right next to you, I'll have to pull your hands away myself if you go digging at your eyes like that again." Crosshair jerked his hands away, turning his head to listen and gage your proximity.

"Doc, they're just going to kill me for spare parts. I don't want them getting the one thing that makes me worth anything." There was a pleading note in his voice as he reached for his eyes anyways. Your hands caught his wrists and he froze.

"Cross, I won't let them. Now, I haven't slept since the night before you went into surgery and I am mentally and physically exhausted right now. Please, don't make my job more difficult than it needs to be and keep your eyes in their sockets. I don't think I could physically fight you right now, so even if I have to resort to begging I will." You kept careful hold of his wrists. In a flash, he flips his hands over and grips yours, glaring in the direction of your voice.

He feels the heat coming off the still persistent bruising from where he had gripped your hand, and the fine tremor in your wrists and fingertips.

"You're shaking." He grumbles.

"I haven't slept in nearly thirty six hours, I'm probably dehydrated and I'm kriffing terrified that you might do something stupid in order to escape the massive amounts of repressed trauma from the chip manually controlling your brain." You don't have the energy to snarl. Crosshair drops your hands like they burned him, reaching up to rub at his eyes but changing his mind to rake his hand through his hair. Silver curls stick up at odd angles before he gives you a look.

"To to bed, Doc. The... reg can do his job for a while." He can hear the disdain in his own voice for the other clone. "If you're serious about fighting for me, you'll need rest."

You laugh bitterly. "Who's the nurse here?"

"Not you. You made that very clear." Crosshair could practically hear you rolling your eyes.

"Yeah, you're just lucky I bothered with nursing school and optometry. Ok. I'm out of your hair." He listened to the rustle of your uniform give way to fading footsteps.

In the resounding silence, with only the heart monitor to keep him company, he mulled over what you had revealed.

He wanted to blame everything on a chip. In part, he knew it had something to do with his struggle to fight orders, with his memories feeling off and stiff, his brothers off and out of character since the start of the Empire.

But.

The anger, the confusion was still there. He knew the Empire was corrupt. He heavily suspected before, killing off refugees and nonhumans without even a second thought. But this sort of control, in every head of every soldier?

He thought back to Omega. She knew. She must’ve known. That his chip was… what? More powerful? Enhanced? She had tried to fight it for him, that day in containment. Before he was formally part of the Empire.

Crosshair was jolted out of his thoughts by a knock on the doorframe of the… recovery ward? The room he was in.

“Thought you were going to take a nap.” Crosshair grunted, expecting you to be back again for some stupid test or to tell him he wasn’t drinking enough water or something.

“She is. I even made her go back to her own quarters and everything.” The voice of the reg came from the doorway. “So, unfortunately you have to deal with me instead.”

Crosshair grunted, surprised he actually felt a flash of disappointment at the reg’s presence.

“I’ll admit, I was shocked the Empire would let her work on the last member of their precious ‘bad batch.’ You’re the sniper, right?” The reg’s voice came from his right as he fiddled with something mechanical sounding, the heart monitor maybe?

“Was.” Crosshair snorted bitterly. “Kinda a problem with that now.” He waved a hand in front of his empty eyes for emphasis.

The reg laughed. “Commander, you’re in the care of the Empire’s finest optician. And-“ There was a flicker of warmth on the bridge of his nose and tops of his cheeks. “She’s outsourcing your case to some of her fancy secret contacts. And you got a decent neurologist for a brother too, if I don’t say so myself.” The reg was smiling smugly; Crosshair could hear it in his voice. He curled his lip slightly at the ‘brother’ comment, but it still struck him as odd. He hadn’t heard a reg call another clone brother since…

“You took your chip out too.” Crosshair realized aloud. The reg chuckled.

“Yeah. A field medic I knew in training reached out to me before the war ended. Not long after he went missing from his own bunk in Corascanti airspace. Figured if the republic cared so much to cover it up to attack their own troops it must be true. Tracked down a droid who knew how to do the procedure and sure it enough it was there.”

Crosshair flinched hard as the bed underneath him adjusted. The reg laughed. “Jumpy, arncha? I think you knew the guy too. Kix ring a bell?”

“I don’t bother with the names of regs.” Crosshair glared, but it was a facade. He did remember Kix, Rex’s medic. He was the quieter of the two others Rex and Cody brought. Hair grown over a tattoo on the side of his head, and sad eyes. The eyes of a man who’d lost too much in too little time.

“He was a good man. Risked everything to tell me.” His reg babysitter tsked softly at the name comment. “I think that’s worth remembering.”

“Maybe.” Crosshair admitted.

“My name’s Bev. Maybe one day I’ll be remembered too.” The reg said. “Right. You try and get some rest, I’ll be back in an hour or two.”

Crosshair would never admit it, but he never forgot Bev’s name either.

[A/N: Chapter three is up, four is finished and I'm working on Five. We're looking at... Eight? Chapters? Eh, between eight and twelve... maybe fifteen, max. Anyways, Tag list!:

@the-hexfiles @moon-wrecked @stunkbiggu @urfriendlyneighbornightfury @anotherschuylersister @endo-bunny @renon4224 @tecker @rinwritesfics @pb-jellybeans @merkitty49 @chicknstripz @bambambunny ]

#soft crosshair #the bad batch #tbb crosshair #crosshair x reader #tbb crosshair x reader #crosshair imagine #tbb crosshair imagine #hurt/comfort #crosshair #WalkByFaith #GingerWrites

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downthe-f4ndom-rabbith0le · 1 year

Text

The Monster Inside (Tyler Galpin x Addams!reader)

Sequel to Monster Like Me

Word Count: 5170 Reader Insert: she/her pronouns Warnings: mentions of prison treatment, self-hate, a gun, hanging, active murder scene, and (obviously) SPOILERS for Tim Burton's Wednesday tv show on Netflix. Note: NOT A TYPICAL HAPPY ENDING

Since their first encounter, (y/n) has found herself visiting Tyler more often than she would like to admit. The past twelve months have seen the two draw closer as they try to heal old wounds. But just when there seems to be a light at the very dark tunnel they both crawl through, a threat on Tyler's life forces (y/n) to choose whether to let justice reign... or embrace the monster inside.

Welp... guess I have to eat my own words because we're here now. That being said, thanks for the support on the first piece, people. I do appreciate all the love and nice comments and so this is for you since I can't get this story out of my head!

The snow crunches underfoot as they walk their daily route around the prison exterior.

It became regular every time she came to visit for them to go on walks. They had picked up the routine six months ago when the prison stopped putting him in straight jackets and the resident therapist suggested gentle exercise would do him some good.

When (y/n) had first heard the news, she hadn't hesitated to drag him outside to feel the summer sun on his skin. She would never forget the look that had blossomed on Tyler's face when he had stepped outside for the first time in who knew how long. It wasn't exact joy, more of an awestruck disbelief. Like a dream he never thought would come true.

Perhaps it was that very look that had been engrained in her brain from that day on that drew her back more often. Six months after her first visit she only returned twice: the first time was two months after, being her scheduled check-in with the boy for clinical reasons, the second a special request from Sheriff Galpin himself. But after six months, after that summer day, she found herself visiting more and more until she came by the prison once a week.

Every Thursday she booked off to visit. Although, (y/n) couldn't exactly deny it was just for professional reasons anymore.

'I think the weather has finally had enough of seeing our faces,' he says, his breathy laugh floating like a ghost past his flushed lips. His cheeks bleed a demure scarlet.

'On the contrary,' she counters, her eyes wandering across the white landscape surrounding them, 'I think it's rewarding us.'

'How so?'

'Don't you see it?' She gestures with her arms to the snow that blankets the ground, that nestles in the tree tops, that glistens in individual flecks off the remaining leaves. 'It's beautiful.'

Tyler huffs, only sparing the view a moment of his warm gaze before it returns to her, charming smile stretching his lips. 'Guess I hadn't noticed with you being beside me.'

Her cheeks flush. He's still got it.

The flirting wasn't a new concept to either of them. Between their snarky banter and clinical catch ups, they always managed to sneak in a comment or two that had the other blushing. It was like some sort of competition: who could rile the other up so much that they get turned on first?

But it was always something that appealed to their dark humour. Recently, though, the comments had become... sweet, nice even.

The worst part, however - the part that had her truly sick to the stomach - was how genuine he sounded. How she sounded in return.

Her gaze locks with his. Hell help her, no wonder even Wednesday fell for him for just a moment. His eyes, his hair, his voice...

He was intoxicating.

'Achoo!'

The sudden sneeze shatters the bubble the two had formed, forcing them to stop in their tracks and drawing their attention to the accompanying guard that walks twenty-odd metres behind them. It is the same guard that has accompanied them since they insisted on walking outside the prison yard. He looks elsewhere, rubbing his nose with the sleeve of his coat casually. Despite his relaxed demeanour, (y/n) knows a gun hides within the giant pocket of his coat, ready to draw if Tyler tries anything.

There once was a time I was willing to pull a gun on him. In some sense, she still is. A gun (approved by the prison) lays in her own coat pocket right now. But things have changed. She is not so certain that she would be able to do it with as little hesitation as she once had, with as little guilt and regret.

Tyler pulls at the collar of his orange jumpsuit that is tucked under a tattered trench coat lent by the prison. More specifically, he pulls at the black shock collar strapped to his neck - the new substitute to the constant gene-repressant drugs since he has been on 'good behaviour' according to the prison warden and therapist.

'Might as well be summer with this thing on,' he says, his tone betraying a bitterness (y/n) had come to associate with the boy. 'Darn thing gives a whole new meaning to being hot under the collar.'

'Oh, don't lie,' she scolds. 'You're practically a Smurf you're that blue.'

'It's called the Prison Look, where orange and blue are the new black.'

Despite the dark meaning, an amused smirk twitches at her lips at the joke. But his shivering form prompts her to unravel the white scarf that warms her neck without a second thought.

'Here,' she says gently, raising herself onto her tippy toes to reach behind Tyler once, twice, then tug and tuck the reminder of the scarf into the top of his jumpsuit. For good measure, she tugs the tattered jacket as much as possible over the jumpsuit, as if to trap as much warmth as she could inside.

'There,' she breathes out, looking up at him once more. 'Now you won't freeze to death before they declare you fit to return to society.'

His eyes glow under the winter sun much like a fireplace. She senes his awe, his wonder as he scans her with those eyes. But she also senses uncertainty, doubt.

'I wouldn't waste your breath,' he mutters. 'I've spent six years here now, and not once have they indicated at potentially releasing me.'

'Because up until now you haven't given them a reason to consider it.'

'Well maybe that's because I never had a reason to consider it.'

The way he looks at her now, she swears he can hear her erratic heartbeat with his heightened hearing thanks to his Hyde heritage. His sadness and pain threatens to consume her, and she is oh so tempted to take it all away like he had begged for almost every time she visited.

Another emotion stops her, though. Between the sadness and pain, she senses a glimmer of light. And as she looks in his eyes now, she sees it.

Hope.

(Y/n) forces herself to breathe, to steady herself before she speaks again, not knowing where this conversation is heading. 'So you have a reason now?'

He doesn't reply straight away. Instead, his gaze flickers down to her lips then back up. It was only a second, but the movement has her breath hitching as he some steps closer to her.

Chest to chest. Heart to heart.

'Maybe,' he whispers, his words taking shape in the form of warm mist that grazes her lips. Like the first time she got this close to him, back in the interrogation room with only a gun between them, she finds herself wanting to lean in more to him, desperate to feel warmth, but more importantly his warmth.

'You really think I can ever go back?' he asks, and the desperate plea in his voice is so genuine and hopeful it threatens to break her heart.

Based on his past actions alone, absolutely not. Nothing would ever be the same as it was back then. But many nights (y/n) had dreamed of Tyler, of him being released and starting over somewhere else.

Some nights she dreamed he would take her with him.

Wednesday scolded her any time she brought up Tyler in casual conversation, saying, 'You'll surely regret ever involving yourself with him.'

She knows he is trouble, that he still doesn't regret what he did no matter how sick it was. But that same sick, twisted part inside her couldn't find it in herself to care.

'Maybe,' she finds herself repeating, because she doesn't want to see his hope die in his all-consuming eyes. 'You're a good person, Tyler. It would be a shame to see you waste away because of someone else's choices.'

'A waste for who exactly ? Society? Or you?'

Before she can answer, an alarm pings inside her coat pocket. She waits a breath, thinking it is just her imagination. But when it goes off again, she forces herself to step away from Tyler - to let go of Tyler - and retrieve her phone from her pocket.

It is the timer she sets for an hour every time she comes. Time truly does fly when you're... occupied, I guess.

'Time's up?' Tyler asks, though he knows what the alarm means by now.

She nods, turning around to call to the guard. 'Ready when you are.'

He nods in reply, silently walking up to them to lead them back to the prison. Before he reaches them though, Tyler flashes (y/n) a sad smile.

'Guess I'll see you next week?' he asks, his voice a mixture of light amusement and hope.

The moment between them has passed, and who knows if she'll ever get it back. But (y/n) finds herself smiling in reply. 'Aw, you going to miss me or something?'

'You know I will. You're the only monster like me I know.'

~~~

(Y/n) cannot drive to the prison fast enough.

A week has passed since their walk in the snow and she can no longer deny her excitement she feels with every impending visit. But this morning she received a call from a certain Sheriff Galpin that melted her mind into irrationality.

She doesn't bother correcting her park as she pulls up to the entrance of the door, nor does she bother locking the car, for she is already racing into the foyer.

'Where is he?' she declares as she enters.

A guard immediately stops her as she attempts to pass through the declaration zone. 'Ma'am, you need to go through standard procedures before you are allowed through.'

'You have no right to do this to him. No right!'

'What is going on?' It is the warden. He's a tough and burly-looking fellow, his stature emphasised more so by the petite figure of the prison therapist that follows behind him, her heels clacking against the tiled floor.

(Y/n) turns to him, fury coursing through her like wildfire. 'That's a question I should be asking you. What is going on with Tyler?'

He releases an exhausted sigh, but she senses no regret or guilt from him as he says, 'So you heard. Sheriff Galpin, no doubt.'

She nods, and it takes all her self control to not punch his pudgy face in. 'He's so close, sir. I respectfully ask that you rethink this course of action.'

'I'm sorry Miss Addams, but it's not my call. The higher ups still consider him a danger that needs to be stopped.'

'He hasn't turned, let alone hurt anyone, in six years! He hasn't done anything to warrant your distrust.'

'And in those six years he also hasn't done anything to warrant our trust, either.' It is the therapist this time, her clipped words clinical and heartless. 'I'm sorry, but his lack in progress is unsettling, and I'm afraid he cannot be saved.'

(Y/n) cannot believe what she is hearing. Each word they speak breaks her heart a little bit more than she liked to admit. 'So you would subject a 22-year-old boy to be executed like some medieval criminal?'

When Sheriff Galpin called her saying Tyler was to be hanged today, she never could've expected the panic and terror that floods her entire being now, that turned her veins icy and halted her heart for only a moment.

She knew from the start that this would always be Tyler's end. Even as they drew closer and she hoped beyond hope that it wouldn't happen. But she should've known better, even as her judgement had been clouded by emotions.

She should've known that monsters don't get happy endings.

(Y/n) turns her blazing gaze upon the therapist. 'And you're one to talk. Isn't it your job to help people like him? To fight for every life?'

The therapist smiles sadly at her, her calm demeanour angering (y/n) more. 'You don't need to feel guilty for him, (y/n). We both did our best. Some people just don't want to be saved.'

'Miss Addams,' the warden stepped back in, 'it is not our decision to make. I am simply following orders.'

Furious tears threaten to sizzle down her cheeks as she looks between the two. Logically, morally, what they are talking about doing is right. The clinical, factual side of her is partial to those demise.

And who doesn't love a good hanging?

The hollowness behind the clinical facade, however, is so strong that she feels as if she is being torn in two. But she is surrounded, she is the minority in this majorly wrong operation.

She sucks in a deep breath, blinking rapidly to force the tears away. 'Of course. But... can you show me to him? Perhaps the thought of death row will make him see some sense. I'm sure his dad would appreciate that closure.'

The warden contemplates her for a moment. She doesn't look away from his scrutinising gaze. She doesn't even blink. My sister and I are more alike than I thought.

A moment later, the warden sighs in defeat. 'Of course, Miss Addams. If you'd care to follow me...'

The walk to the yard is blurry, (y/n)'s mind numb with defeat. When they finally reach the open area, the sight of the huge hanging platform doesn't bring her the joy she thought her first official hanging would bring.

The ones she and Wednesday subjected their dolls to as children don't count.

Instead, she resists calling his name when she sees Tyler being lead towards the stairs that will lead him to the platform. Which will lead him to his imminent death.

'Hey!' The warden holds a hand that tells the guards to stop. When they do, he turns back to (y/n). 'You have two minutes.'

She nods her thanks before jogging over to Tyler, the guards escorting him taking a few steps away to give them some privacy.

'Hey,' she says.

'Hey,' he replies, lips twitching with the itch of a smile though his eyes don't reflect such casualness. They are almost as dead as the day she first visited him a year ago. No fireplace warmth to take away the sting of Winter's cool breath blowing through the yard, through her clothes.

She doesn't know where to begin. For a year, she has stood by this boy. For a year, he has shown that he is still the kind and loving boy she first met all those years ago. For a year, she has spent her time and attention and - dare she say it - heart to heal this boy, only to realise somewhere along the way he was helping her heal too.

And now he will be slaughtered like some farm animal.

For a girl who prides herself on her eloquent and succinct way of speaking - how her tongue was more like a rapier, and wielded words with deathly precision - she now finds herself in the most discombobulating situation where she cannot speak her mind.

'I just heard this morning,' she says, the words coming out strained like she just ran a marathon. 'I came as quickly as I could. I... I...'

'It's okay,' he offers, noting her struggle for the right words. 'Honestly, I didn't expect you would come.'

Her brows scrunch with confusion. 'Why wouldn't I come? It's the day I always come.'

He shrugs, causing the chains on his wrists to rattle ever so slightly. 'Don't know. I guess... If my own dad wasn't going to come to my hanging, then why would you?'

It is the genuine tone of his inquiry that makes the statement all the more heart breaking. He is almost nonchalant about it all, his face a rigid portrait of nothing. Void of emotion, his exterior is the perfect deflection of the deeply hurtful emotions that lurk in the shadowed parts of his heart.

(Y/n) tries to remain relaxed in the face, cool and collected in her stature. But when she speaks, her words are tighter than she intends. 'But I am here,' she finds herself saying, stepping closer to him and placing her hands on his. As if her presence alone isn't enough to convince him of the reality that she truly is there, standing by him.

His hands are ice under hers. Perhaps that is why he takes in a sharp breath before huffing out a quiet chuckle. It isn't joyous, nor sad. It is a melancholic sound that echoes in her heart in a way she doesn't appreciate.

'You are certainly one of a kind, (y/n) Addams,' he says, and it relieves her to see some life return to his chestnut eyes. 'And seeing as I'm now on death row, I see it only fitting that I tell you my one regret in this miserable, horrible, bleak life.

She cannot help but roll her eyes. 'Oh don't be so dramatic. Don't tell me now, of all times, you have grown a conscience.'

'Come on, I'm trying to be serious for once, Addams. Can't you let me have this one?'

She wants to playfully argue more, wanting to draw out these two minutes as much as possible, but can't find the words to do just that. So instead, she breathes out a shaky laugh and concedes her loss with a nod.

'Fine. What is it?'

The chains rattle again as he reaches into one of the pockets in his jumpsuit, his hands rifling around for a second before pulling back out. As one hand clenches tightly around something when he is finished, he uses the other one to pull her own hands out in front of her. A conglomeration of emotions shoot through her every fibre as his fingers brush her palms, gently open and letting the small object float softly into her awaiting hands.

It's a small square piece of paper, with white on one side and on the other side-

No. Not a piece of paper.

(Y/n) recognises the object now. It's a photograph. Of the two of them. Well, sort of.

The image itself is blurry, like the photo had been taken while in motion. Usually an image like this would make her cringe, having spent countless hours researching and practicing and taking notes on taking the perfect shot. This photo disregards all the rules and formats of proper photography.

Despite the poor quality of it, the smiles both her and Tyler wear are clear as day. She remembers the day it was taken. It was about six months ago back at the beginning of summer when she had brought in her camera because why not, and Tyler had managed to steal it from her bag without her looking.

The picture captures the moment she had realised and had tried to tackle the camera from his grasp but he would not relent. Somewhere in the chaos of it all the picture had been taken. After taking her camera home and looking through her photos, seeing that one in particular brought an unfamiliar yet familiar feeling into her heart. She didn't know what it was, but she knew she wanted Tyler to have the photo. So the next visit came, and she gave Tyler the photo.

She hates how her throat constricts at the sight of the photo once more, how she feels herself slightly shaking at the thought that he kept it all these months, right there with him.

'That I couldn't give you more moments like this,' he mutters so deathly quiet (y/n) thinks for a moment she imagined it. 'After all, there are not many monsters like us in this world. Perhaps if I hadn't been so pre-occupied with Wednesday, with all that drama back then... perhaps things would've been different for us.'

It confuses her when a water droplet plonks onto the picture in her hands. Until she raises a hand to her face and feels a wet trail from her eye run down her cheek and chin and realises that it is a tear.

She is crying.

The last time she cried was six years ago when Wednesday battled Crackstone at Nevermore and somehow came out of it alive.

(Y/n) finally looks up at Tyler to find a similar mixture of shock and confusion on his own face, probably also not expecting her sudden reaction.

She's aware they have no time left, so she swallows the threat of more tears and nods in agreement. 'Yes. Yes, I believe they would've.'

Footsteps draw closer to them, and suddenly Tyler is being taken up the stairs of the platform to be fitted with the noose. (Y/n) looks up but isn't really watching, her mind racing with thoughts, her heart thumping too loudly and with too many emotions. What she wouldn't give to feel someone else's emotions right now.

It is true what they say: the quiet ones usually are the ones that feel the most.

She watches as the noose is fitted around Tyler's neck, how the executioner hides behind a black cloth so he remains an unnameable murderer who kills in the name of justice.

Justice. She used to believe in justice. It is why she agreed to help Tyler in the first place. It is why she didn't argue about Tyler's treatment at the prison for so long. But where had it gotten him? No trial, and an unfair execution of life.

'I truly am sorry, Miss Addams.' (Y/n) hadn't noticed the warden come up beside her, the therapist in tow. 'But people like him... well, people like him just can't be saved.' They look up at the platform too, but now she looks at them, irritation morphing her features.

'He didn't even get a fair trial,' she mutters, because that is all she can manage without screaming. 'Sounds like you didn't want to save him rather than the other way around.'

The warden huffs but doesn't spare her another look. 'Look, if you think a psychotic monster with no regrets about killing can be saved, then you're just as crazy as he is.'

His words aren't meant to mean much; a simple, blanket statement at best. But there rings a bell of truth in them that flips a switch inside (y/n). Like when one turns off the lights of their house to go to sleep, all thought and feeling disappeared, leaving a void of darkness of hollowness.

With the light gone, there's nothing stopping the monster inside from coming out to play.

She turns her head with a cool grace to look upon the platform. The executioner is ready to pull the lever, Tyler is set to fall. On the warden's call, it will all go to hell.

(Y/n)'s hand slips into her coat pocket, fingers folding around the desired item like it was made for her hands alone. 'You know what, warden?' she says, voice as steady as her grip.

'What?'

'I think you might be right.'

A gunshot rings through the yard before he can say the word, and another follows close behind. The warden and executioner both hit the ground simultaneously, identical shots in their heads.

The therapist screams but is cut off as (y/n) fires another bullet and finds its target too. The surrounding guards of the yard run towards her, their stunned hands fumbling with the guns they never thought they would have to use that are stuck in their holsters. But she clocked them all the moment she stepped into the space, and she is pulling the trigger faster than they can call for help.

Fifteen seconds. That is all it takes before the yard is quiet once more.

The void suddenly closes up, and the lights inside her turn back on. A tightness constricts her chest like a python constricts its prey. Ever so slowly, her heart aches more and more at the horror around her, the horror she brought upon them all.

I turned it off. The realisation is both terrifying and exhilarating, fuelling her with a kick of adrenaline that spurs her towards the platform stairs and up them. She finds Tyler's face in front of hers before she can fully comprehend what she is doing.

'(Y/n),' Tyler says, his eyes wild and cloudy - a reflection of the confusion and shock she senses from him. 'What are you-'

'We don't have much time,' she says, bending down to the executioner to fish through his pockets. She eventually finds a set of keys and returns to Tyler to work on his wrist and ankle shackles. By a miracle, the key fit the key hole of the shock collar around his neck, too. It makes a heavy thudding noise as it hits the wooden platform. Once he is free, she throws the noose off his neck and pulls him off the trap door. 'Other guards will have heard the gunshots by now. We've got to move.'

'Wait.' Tyler's grip on her forearm is both strong but gentle, firm but comforting. His eyes search hers, however, much like a bloodhound, his gaze insistent and headstrong. 'Care to explain what happened just now?'

'Tyler, we don't have time for this.'

'Fine, let me rephrase: Tell me what in the hell just happened, Addams.'

She looks frantically around. No guards yet, but she knows they will be there soon. But when she looks back at Tyler, she cannot find it in her to deny his eyes.

'I turned it off,' she says so quietly it is almost a whisper. 'I turned my humanity off... and on again.'

Tyler looks her up and down, his face relaxing with shock and surprise and something else she can't quite put her finger on. 'I thought you said you couldn't do that.'

'I couldn't... until now.'

'How, then? Why?'

'Seriously, Tyler? Can't we talk when I get you out of the prison?'

'Wait, slow down. You're breaking me out?'

She rolls her eyes. Her patience is wearing thin. And so is their time. 'Damn, I would've thought me killing a bunch of people then breaking you out of chains would've been a big enough sign, but I guess not.'

'But why, Addams? Why didn't you let me d-'

'Because I love you, damnit!'

The silence that stretches between them is weighted with the echo of her words, bouncing off the walls and tiles of the yard and coming straight back to them. Only their heavy breaths from their heaving chests breaks up its monotony.

Tyler swallows thickly, his voice tight with an invisible restraint. 'You what?'

She clenches her jaw with a force so strong she might've broken her teeth had she not opened her mouth to reply. 'I know I shouldn't... but I couldn't let you die, Tyler. Not when I know you're good deep, deep inside. Not when you've worked so hard for a second chance. Not when I still needed to say that I love you.'

Her gaze falls from Tyler's prying eyes over the edge of the platform. Pools of blood bloom around each corpse's head, and from the angle and height she stands from, the whole thing looks like a painting.

It is a sick and twisted outlook, but one that she cannot help but relish in knowing this is all wrong wrong wrong. She knows her humanity is back on because she can feel. Tyler's shock, the confusion and panic of close by prisoners. She even senses the emptiness where emotions should've been in the corpses, their hearts still and their souls long gone.

But among all the emotions she feels, cannot find it in herself to feel sorry for any of it.

'I never thought I'd fall for anyone,' she continues, turning back to Tyler. 'Let alone you of all people.'

Something shifts in Tyler's demeanour as they lock eyes. His gaze darkens as he steps closer, and she senses another emotion festering inside him. This time, however, she knows what it is. It is the same emotion she's been feeling for a while now unknowingly. But she recognises it all the same.

Want. All-consuming and disorienting and intoxicating want.

'And who am I? To you?' His breath fans her face he is so close, his voice sultry and promising danger. But despite the lights, the monster is inside the house now. And it lives for danger.

'A monster like me,' she breathes out before Tyler grabs the back of her head and slants their lips over one another.

A primal hunger courses through her every nerve as she grabs at him, her hands not seeming to pull him close enough despite how their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. The taste of mint and fresh air taints her lips as she tries to devour him, her hunger for him insatiable. She senses the feeling is mutual as he kisses her with just as much fervour and want.

His hands in her hair and down her back, his lips on hers, the groans and growls that escape him when she bites his lips. It is simply delectable.

But underneath the hunger and desire, there is a genuine passion that burns so intensely it pulls a squeak from (y/n). What they feel is true and raw and overwhelming right despite the wrong circumstances. A sense of relief and joy overwhelms her at the thought.

The door to her home has finally been opened to guests and she is just so happy to have a friend.

A monster like her no less.

When they pull apart, all she wants is to pull him back in for more. It doesn't help that his eyes burn with life again despite the lustful darkness that surrounds them. 'You are... full of surprises, (y/n).'

She can't help the small smile that twitches at her lips at the tone of surprise. 'As usual, you underestimate me, Tyler.'

'Something I will never do again.' He pulls her back in for another mind-numbing kiss, but this one is backed by relief and a gratitude that threatens to break (y/n)'s heart. When he pulls away, he keeps their foreheads touching, his panting breath hot against her cold skin. 'I never thought I'd find someone like me, someone with a monster inside them.'

'I guess fate works in mysterious ways.' Distant, muffled shouting echoes down the hallways that lead into the yard. (Y/n) pulls away from Tyler, her mind racing with plans on how to escape this place. Well, there is no going back now. 'Come on, lets get out of here.'

Soon enough the news will get out: Prison staff killed in monster breakout. She knows Wednesday will never forgive her. Her family will never forgive her. But she has never felt quite right playing the role of the good guy.

Perhaps she was always meant to play the villain. And with Tyler by her side, she finally feels at home.

The monster inside has been unleashed, and she has no plans on locking it up ever again.

241 notes · View notes

moodymisty · 9 months

Note

Hi! I'm brain rotting over here as I play Darksiders 2 and was just wondering how Death would be with a more battle type gender neutral mc? Maybe they met when mc accidentally ambushed him and he's been stuck with them ever since? Maybe a ton of scars on them,,,

Author's note: Omg I am so sorry anon, You got swamped in the bottom of my inbox;; Here, I hope these HC formatted thoughts and a little drabble is enough as forgiveness.

Relationships: Death/Fem!Reader

Warnings: None really, other than a brief mention of bruises and scares

Given how Death seems to be a magnet for all sorts of people despite hating people, it probably wouldn't take too long for him to come across some sort of cornered human.

Be they in the remains of Earth, or hell, even taken as a 'pet' by a demon to Hell.

You won't be doing any sort of actual damage to him when you attempt to attack him, but he has to admit he admires the gusto.

Though in his younger years he would've found it insulting, as he'd still had a fair share of cockiness back then he's since rid himself off. Maybe you just didn't realize what you were attempting to attack wasn't human.

He'd probably like a taglaong, even if he denies it. He's so used to not having companionship during his countless outings, that having another soul beside him is odd. He habitually pushes it away.

He sees a bit of himself in you sometimes. The way you're so desperately clawing for your own life against all odds.

Just don't constantly be so twitchy and looking around every corner, it makes him on edge also and he hates it.

The soft remnants of a fire burning out, embers floating upward, Death looks over at you.

You're finally asleep; Laying on your side facing him. Your legs are curled up close to your body in an attempt to stay warm, without anything but your clothes to protect you from the frigid weather.

With just enough light, Death can spot your one arm that's lazily flopped outward, in the general direction of whats left of the fire. In it's glow, he can see the bruise around your wrist, once a deep purple now partly fading to a sickly green.

To think, he almost feels remorse about that now.

Death is well aware humans are more fragile, but not that fragile. He barely grabbed you to stop you from pulling a dumb stunt, and now your skin clearly shows the mark of where he'd nearly hurt you much worse.

You had flipped around the wall with your gun, only to have a hand gripped around your wrist so tight, you were forced to drop it. No matter how much you clawed at the hand, he refused to let go.

And you had very much wanted him to, once you had gotten a sight of what you attempted to protect yourself from.

"Are you dense?"

Your knees had wanted to buckled underneath you, and partly did, but his grip had held you so tight it kept you upright.

You weren't dense, he remembers, you were just trying to protect yourself. He'd without knowing cornered you in that room, and you had only known to fight.

You were surprisingly quick to forgive it, and even going so far as to shadow him, once you realized he wasn't going to eat you alive. Contrary to his appearance. But Death wasn't in the mood for tagalongs, and had only accepted under the guise that he was going to drop you off at the nearest group of humans he would come across.

But there was none. Death finds his mouth bitter at the realization that your race is all but gone. You're a fighter and have kept going this long, but sooner or later that luck will run out. The scars on your hands and arms have all but proven with as many close calls you've escaped, you don't have much favor with lady luck left.

The Ravaiim, The Nephilim, so many races trampled underfoot. Humanity is just another one to add to the list, Death solemnly thinks.

"Hngh," Death looks over and notices you shifting in your sleep, the arm he'd bruised sliding close to your body. Your knife is still on your person, but you'd laid your gun close to where your head is. Death reaches over and nudges it away, assuring you don't hit it in your sleep.

He looks away again, content to just ignore your mumbling and shifting. Even as it increases, and your face seems more distressed the next time he takes a glance.

When you end up shifting close enough to him that you bump into his leg, he sighs.

One hand grasps our shoulder with a gentle pressure- conscious now of being softer than he had with your wrist. It stops your shifting and the touch seems to quell your nightmare, and you still. He moves to brush a chunk of hair that fell into your face away. Death keeps his hand there until he feels you start to wake up hours later, and pulls away before you realize.

#darksiders death x reader #Darksiders/reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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leggerefiore · 1 year

Note

Do have any more Alien au stuff floating in your head?

yeah, a little. maybe smut later if my brain is brave enough lmao

Truce

cw: alien au, a bit of unhealthy relationships, poly (Ingo/Reader, Emmet/Reader), magical girl reader, sexual implications

Minors DNI

It felt terrifying as you realised the absolute truth about the two aliens you were fighting.

They were… Your boyfriends.

They were the smiling and frowning Subway Boss duo.

You passed them every day while taking the trains, watching them help commuters and take on trainers eagerly. Both were beloved icons of Nimbasa and seen as kind people. It was little wonder with how Ingo eagerly took up teaching children battling and proper ways to safely ride the trains alongside his brother, who proved a pleasant challenge to experienced trainers.

It was easy to fall for them.

You loved them so easily.

They felt so impossibly familiar to you. The feeling was hard to describe, but it was almost as if they were a piece of you. You shook it off and politely struck up a conversation with the older twin back then.

Your struggles against the tentacles that held you and the complicated emotions that had bloomed in your chest left you breathless for a moment. Emmet only tilted his head and gave a quick giggle. His inhuman form floated closer to you as the bright gem in his chest got the sun's light perfectly. The dark sclera of his eyes mixed with the bright silver of his iris was hypnotising. He held a hand out to you to hold your chin.

“Give up,” he said simply, “Let us win.” You shook your head, terrified of your species being overcome by these horrifying sentient viruses from space. A pout played across his lips. It was quiet where you both were in the air. The people below were frozen, waiting to see what would become of you at the hands of the alien they despised. Would they even truly care if you died, or would they just be disappointed you failed to protect them? You pushed those thought away. It was not like you were dying here.

“No,” you firmly replied, and tried an attack of yours against him. It failed horribly and made him let out a giggle. Ingo floated nearby to you both, getting closer to observe your exchange easier. The tentacles around you pulsated for a moment, and he put himself even closer to you. It was a point where your bodies just touched but still remained slightly distanced.

“You know… There is a certain kink of mine I enjoy,” Emmet teased, “One I would want to do here. In front of everyone.” Your cheeks felt warm as your eyes shot wide. Desperately, you wanted to believe that he would not. That it was a line of embarrassment for your alter-ego that he would not cross. You also hated how it made your legs come together. It was disgusting yet hot.

Ingo clearing his throat stopped his actions as the younger twin whined. “Fiiiine, I won't,” he huffed and moved you into Ingo's grip. “Later, I will,” a promise came from him and sent a shudder down your spine.

The feeling of Ingo's solid form behind you as he held you close to himself was consuming your mind. Heated breaths fanned across your skin as watched his brother go off to destroy another building. “... It's envitable, you know,” he spoke with a confident tone, “Humanity will fall to us.” You wanted to argue that it would not happen so long as you were to defend earth, but…

You laid against him limply.

You did also feel tired of the useless fighting, which always ended in a draw.

Thoughts of the peaceful home life you shared with them felt so foreign with the thoughts of them as your mortal enemies. Cooking meals with Ingo and chatting about his day at work while Emmet played with his Joltiks in the living room were so completely opposed to everything you felt about the aliens, Nobori and Kudari. It was not as if they were entirely separate beings. Many things they did remain the same, no matter their disguised status or not.

You wanted the peaceful life you had with Ingo and Emmet to be true, but you would have to face their identities as the aliens eventually.

“Do…" you whispered weakly, “Do you hate humanity, Ingo?” The alien regarded you curiously. His stiff facial expression, even twitching with rare emotion.

“... I dislike them,” he responded, “I dislike most of them would be a better phrasing, rather…" The alien corrected himself. There was no mistaking the feeling heavy in his eyes as he gazed at you. You were human, and he loved you. It felt strange to consider it. He was an alien who loved you despite that, and you were a human who loved him despite that. All three of you held the same predicament with no clue as to how to handle it.

In a moment of weakness, you managed to break free from his grip and quickly send an attack to injury him just enough to lead to a retreat. It was easy to do this. You had done it many times before, yet… The hurt in his eyes made your heart clench. It hurt him.

You knew that.

You did not care.

You did now.

Nobori could get hurt, but not your Ingo.

The evening would almost have felt normal had you all been unaware of each other. No one else in the world knew you three as your alter-egos. Each of you lived a mostly mundane life, excluding your fights and their attempted invasions. Could you convince them to live in this normalcy? Ingo definitely enjoyed it. Emmet would be more difficult… He seemed more dead set on ensuring his and Ingo's safety than anything. Maybe you could make him understand that humans will not go after him as he exists as “Emmet.”

They both were in the living room doing their own activities. Ingo sat on the couch with a laptop in his lap typing away at something while Emmet played with Galvantula lazily. The pokemon was playing a weak game of tug-of-war with him. It was perfect. You joined Ingo on the couch and peered at his screen to see him doing paperwork. The television was already turned on to a league battle that Emmet was apparently watching.

“... Are you feeling okay?” you asked Ingo, who paused his typing to shift his eyes over to you. He seemed physically fine, but you could not exactly know for certain.

“I'm fine,” he reassured you, “... That attack was not nearly as bad as when you attacked my gem.” You shuddered as the scream that came from him echoed in your mind. It made you genuinely stop fighting them for a while. They were humanoid. You had thought of them as not even able to feel pain, but that had proven you wrong. Not to mention the vanishing of Ingo from his duties as he recovered.

“I'm sorry,” you apologised and rested your hand above the crystalline hidden under his chest. He tensed for a moment but quickly relaxed himself. It felt warm there. A strange pulsating almost like a heart came from the odd organ. Just what was it even? You wondered how they even functioned.

“I already forgave you,” he responded with a heartfelt tone, “... I healed from your attack earlier already.” You felt more at ease and rested your head on his shoulder. His arm wrapped around your own as he took a short break from his work to observe the battle on the television. Emmet perked up at the sight and moved to join you both on the couch. You tried to ignore his staring but felt his eyes glaring into your very core. Maybe now was the time to have the conversation with them.

“... Can we not just live like this and give up our fighting?” you questioned with a strong tone. Both tensed up at your words. Emmet tilted his head while Ingo went to pull the brim of his hat that was not on his head. Silence hung in the room, with only the cheers of the crowd coming from the battle on the screen. Was that a bad question? You felt it was not. It was completely genuine.

“... Humans will not accept us,” Emmet replied, “Everrrrrr.” You felt that was untrue, but you also knew better than to say something like that with certainty. The existence of villainous groups that would do anything to get ahead did not ensure a safe life for creatures like them, not to mention the endless curiosity of human researchers. But… You knew it was not impossible.

“... Emmet is right,” Ingo spoke with his domineering tone usually reserved for work or his speeches as Nobori, “We simply are beings that humanity cannot have as a piece of them in peace. We will likely be experimented on, if not just killed outright.” His words were harsh and left you shuddering. You wished there was not any truth to them, but… You knew. It hurt to think that they were hard to accept. Humans fascination with any pokemon believed to be from space was already bad enough.

“I want to,” you decided to keep going, “I love you both. I want to live like this. Peacefully and comfortably… I don't want to keep fighting.” The grin on Emmet's face told you everything he could possibly say next. Ingo unexpectedly pulled you into his lap before Emmet had a chance to, however.

“... We will make a peace just like this,” he told you, “There is no need for you to oppose us. We will always assure your happiness as we love you. From the moment you cut your finger on the meteor to now, we adored you.” He took the hand you had cut just over a year ago and pressed a sweet kiss to the finger. The warmth and softness of his lips made you blush. Holding it between his hands, you hardly noticed Emmet crawling to hover over you both. His arms came around you as he pressed himself into you, causing Ingo to groan under both of your weights.

“He's right,” Emmet cooed and peppered a few kisses up your neck to your jawline, “You should let me fuck you in front of everyone still in your magical girl form. Just once. Prrrretty please. No more using it after that.” You almost wanted to shove him away but let him stay because he was currently making a decent weighted blanket. Combing your fingers through his hair, you pondered a solution to your issues that would allow them to live with you like this forever.

“I… I don't want you to do that,” you told them. Both stared at you with frightening expressions, one callous and one just too eager. Emmet's hands cupped your cheeks as he nuzzled his nose to yours.

“We know,” he cooed, “... We'll stop for a while, though.” You felt a strange relief come over your body.

“Why?” you asked, curious as to their sudden change of heart.

“... You clearly need a mental break and so do we,” Ingo responded, finally removed his brother from you give him a break from being crushed. Your chin was gently grasped by him as he brought you in for a loving kiss. “... Please take care of yourself. We do truly love you.”

For now, at least, your complicated feelings were satiated.

You let yourself easily relax and fall into the temporary truce, wondering if they would become convinced by the peace of it all.

#emmet x reader #ingo x reader #ingo x reader x emmet #ingo/reader #emmet/reader #ingo/reader/emmet #alien au

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hotxcheeto · 1 year

Text

❥ 𝐕𝐢𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐭

"𝘆𝗼𝘂 𝗴𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝘁, 𝗰𝘂𝗽𝗰𝗮𝗸𝗲."

❥ 𝗿𝘂𝗹𝗲𝘀 - 𝘀𝗲𝗻𝗱 𝗮 𝗿𝗲𝗾𝘂𝗲𝘀𝘁

❥ 𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐜

❥ Ace of Spades | Angst + Fluff - An old friend comes back from the dead, and you just so happen to using everything she taught you. Even if you hate her at the moment, her tactics aren't half bad.

❥ My little Angel | Fluff - After becoming some ones science experiment, you grew wings. You like them sometimes, but you girlfriend Vi, she likes them all the time.

❥ My Dead Girlfriend | Angst + Fluff - You loved her, and then she left. Dead and gone you thought, until she comes back. And then you realize, damn, you still love her.

❥ The Nameless Drink | Fluff + Very Slight Angst - You love to sing in a bar you own, running it to keep yourself a float. A song that means so much to you is sung, and a girl in the crowd just so happens to recognize your lyrics.

❥ Painting & Panting | NSFW + Fluff - You just want to paint but your mischievous girlfriend has another idea.

❥ Brains and Brawn | Angst + Fluff - You always did the talking, she did the punching. You were a coward, and after you ran away from her, somehow she'll always find you. Even when you blame yourself, she'd never blame you for a second.

❥ Boring Books Filled With Blurry Ink | Tiny Angst + Fluff | MODERN AU - Studying for important exams can take a lot out of a person, but don't worry, Vi's here to make sure you take care of yourself. She'd do anything to make sure you're alright.

❥ Sorry Won't Cut It | Angst - You're reckless and you know it, and you're girlfriend? She freaking hates it.

❥ The Girl With Nothing but a Name | Fluff - You're a reckless writer who loves a story. You meat an equally as cocky girl who just so happens to take interest in you. But all you know about her is her name. And she'd love for you to learn more.

❥ The Letters I Left for my Love | Angst + Fluff - You'd write a letter to her everyday, leaving them in a box you designed. Only you and her can open it, and when she finally finds it, she finds you. Her lost love that never stopped writing her letters.

❥ For You To Be Okay | Angst + Fluff - Vi would do anything to make sure you're okay, even if you think you're being ridiculous.

❥ Scarred Skin | Angst + Slight Fluff - You have burns across your body, scars that will never go away and you hate it. Gods you hate them. But Vi, she loves you. And she loves them, even when you don't.

❥ Sweet as Sugar | Fluff - You're Viktor's sister, a well known inventor ranking high. But you're also a cocky bastard, and that catches a certain girl's eye.

❥ Pressure for the Pain | Fluff + Very slight Angst - You don't get hurt often, but Vi makes sure that if you do, you'll be okay just as long as she's your caretaker

❥ My Only Sunrise | Angst + Fluff - You lost your Sunrise when she died, but now she was back and you could truly see the sky.

❥ Doctors Orders | Fluff + NSFW - Vi makes sure to patch you all up, but of course she has to have some fun with it.

❥ Prison Wife | Fluff + Slight Angst - Vi and you are in prison, you're her prison partner, she's your prison wife. It just makes sense.

❥ Intruder | Fluff + Slight angst - You hadn't seen your best friend in years, going from thinking about her to hearing a knock at the door. An intruder deciding to pop into the house. But thinking about it, why did they knock? And why do they know your name?

❥ Tension in the Air | Angst + Fluff - Vi and you have an equal hatred for each other. Jealous of the other. Angry at each other every time you have to interact. That's until you say too much, and she begins to realize, maybe you aren't so bad. And maybe, the anger hid just a bit too much tension in the air, and maybe she liked you a bit, or a lot... yeah definetely not. Right?

❥ High Spirit | Slight Angst + Fluff - You were too sweet for the world and Vi knew it, some people were assholes. She just there to always remind you of that.

❥ Late Night Routine | Fluff - Vi has been working her life away for you, more then you could in an entire week to give you a safe place to live. So you decide to treat her with a nice dinner and a whole lot of cuddles.

❥ Teenage Dream | Slight Angst + Fluff - You've know Vi since the beginning of the end. Teenagers forced to grow up in a world that has everything against them. But you have each other and that's all that matters. From beginning until end, Vi is your forever

❥ Going Nowhere | Angst + Fluff - You were dragged from home a long time ago. Your step-dad not being the nicest. Vi believed you left her, and now that your back and the air has been cleared. You make sure to tell her you're not going anywhere.

❥ Hold Me | Fluff - You haven't been feeling the best, good thing Vi is here to take care of you.

❥ Graceful | Fluff - You're a ballerina, Vi loves to help and watch you practice. Even if she doesn't listen.

❥ The Boxer and the Bubble Bath | Smut + Fluff | MODERN AU - Vi comes home to you very nicely sat in a nice hot bubble bath. Sore from training she doesn't need an invite to get in, and then you make sure you take good care of her, and she always does the same for you, since your her perfect little wife after all.

❥ Seven Sensitive Minutes | Suggestive | MODERN AU - Everyone is playing seven minutes in heaven and hoping to make your ex jealous you play along, until it lands on her and another guy. And you have to make a choice that you end up not regretting.

❥ Countdown | Fluff | SOULMATE AU - You expected and dreamed of meeting your soulmate in a cute and romantic way. Well Vi makes sure to crush that idea, along with a few ribs.

❥ Pretty Nurse | Fluff - You're Vi's lover, that sometimes doubles as the pretty nurse that takes care of her when she's sick.

❥ The Three Times Vi Wasn't Sure, and the One Time She Was | Fluff - Vi didn't know if you were gay, you were just always so open, so free, like a fairytale character that spoke in riddles. But at some point, she figures it out. With a little help from you of course.

❥ Fragile as Glass | Angst + Open Ended - You have taken care of Jinx since Vander died, protecting her. But she brings all of the mess right to you as usual. Though this mess, is a bit nostalgic.

❥ Street Affairs | Smut - She can't wait to have you, literally, her jealousy can't wait. See that alleyway? Exactly...

❥ Dinnertime | Smut + Fluff - Vi loved to care for you, especially after you've been working yourself away to keep you guys afloat. And seeing her after so long spent away from her arms makes you feel... excited, to say the least.

❥ Old Memories | Fluff? + Slight Angst - You run into an old friend.

❥ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❥ Vi With a Short Big Spoon | Fluff

❥ Spicy Piercings | Fluff + Kind of NSFW

❥ Cheek Kisses | Fluff

❥ Tracing Her Skin | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ SFW & NSFW Headcanons | NSFW/Smut + Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ Enemies With Benefits w/ Her | Angsty + Smutty + Slight Fluff

❥ Having an Affectionate Girlfriend | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐛𝐛𝐥𝐞𝐬

❥ smut drabble #1

❥ 𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐭𝐢𝐩𝐥𝐞 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

❥ Fight Club | Part 2 | Angst + Fluff - You fight to survive, and then you see an old friend again. But you aren't too happy about who she's with.

❥ Better Than a Prison Wall | PART 2 | Angst + Fluff - Anything is better than staring at a prison wall. Including seeing your family that casted you away. Or so you thought they did.

❥ Thief Vi and Her Princess Masterlist | Fluff | ROYAL AU - A princess meets a thief, and just so happens to fall in love.

❥ Beachy Beauty | Part Two | Fluff | SEMI MODERN AU - You're the adopted Kiramman, the notorious for being sweet and great with the kids of the family. And while taking care of them on the beach vacation the family annually takes, you just so happen to meet your sisters new friend. Who she forgot to mention, was very attractive.

❥ 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐧𝐢𝐜

❥ I Don't Know You... Yet | Fluff + Slight Angst - You're Vi and Jinx's sister, and you meet and enforcer that just happens to catch your eye, but you guys aren't very close just yet. But she'd like to be, now will you let her?

❥ 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐬

❥ 𝐜𝐚𝐢𝐭𝐥𝐲𝐧

❥ Out of Reach | Fluff - Your girlfriends love to put your potion ingredients higher then your arms can reach.

❥ Sleepy Morning Light | Fluff - You and Vi want to sleep, Caitlyn however needs a bit of convincing.

❥ Welcome Home | Fluff + NSFW - You and your dominance wasn't what they were expecting, but they aren't complaining.

❥ Busted Face | Angst + Fluff - You'd run into some people from your past you just happen to have a rough relationship. Punches are thrown on both sides, and the girls are left to help you pick up the pieces.

❥ Predicament | Fluff + Suggestive - Your girlfriend just got out of prison, and brings a friend who just so happens to be an enforcer. Oh, and did I mention you kill people for a living?

❥ 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐧𝐬

❥ Poly Relationship W/ Them | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ NSFW Poly W/ Them | Fluff + Smut/NSFW

❥ Dealing with Their S/O's Inner Child | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ 𝐬𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐤𝐚

❥ Them With a Pregnant S/O | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ Relationship With Vi & Sevika | Fluff + Slight Angst

❥ Having a Teeth Insecurity | Angst + Fluff

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chloeseyeliner · 2 months

Text

it's my birthday in two weeks.

not a very me way to start a post, i swear i am not doing it for wishes or anything like that, if anyone ever sees this in the first place; i was just writing some very personal things down in my journal (if i can call it such, it's a mess of thoughts and random rants in there really, no structure whatsoever) tonight, and as i was reminiscing my teenage years, seeing that they are conventionally and socially coming to an end soon, i wanted to do something kind of meaningful, instead of just hating my birthday and the weeks before it and being sad all the time like i have done since like. ever. i think?? i remember almost nothing i did or felt before i was eleven. which happens. so. i know my blog is tiny, but for me, it's kind of a great importance to do this right now.

disclaimer: i am not here to give advice to anyone who ever comes across this post. this is not what my role is. that would be sort of unfair, dare i say, since all people experience life differently, even when facing the same situations. <3

so, without further ado, here's ten things i "learnt"/want to tell myself (and maybe another person who might need to hear some of it) before i turn twenty:

(cw: kind of vague and not so vague mentions to mental health in general + some religion things)

1. you don't have to wear this paricular t-shirt in this particular size if it doesn't fit you- there are many different colours and various sizes out there for you to try on, and if you feel uncomfortable sometimes, here, take this jacket. the t-shirt is not going anywhere. it's just being protected, guarded from the outside world, but not your heart. never from your heart.

a. this was both metaphorical and literal.

2. you are not a freak for secretly wishing everything will eventually magically work out like they do in the books you love to be consumed of, kid. you were just a kid with many hopes and dreams. it was fine. it is fine.

3. you didn't have to pretend to like this guy and actually confess your "feelings" to him in middle school just because everyone else was entering relationships that lasted a week and kissed in the school bathroom. but you did. and it's fine. because it was an experience worth having. you needed to dive into the freezing water to actually wake up and start your journey with much, much more than you had in your suitcase even ten seconds ago.

4. on that note, yes, most of the times, when you are queer in a small, rural, christian, balkan town, you don't get many chances of living your truth loudly. but you grew up with all these realisations, which may have seemed terrifying at first, but you did have them, you did question, you did fell in love with someone you weren't supposed to, even from afar, being on your own. i am proud of you, kid.

5. you are not "crazy" for "being too political". you are not a coward for being quiet because you were scared of all this glaring and all these daggers sometimes either. you were younger. now you know a little better.

6. it's okay if you don't look up at the person (or, in your case, god) who used to consume your every thought of awe and admiration anymore, the person (or god) who was the picture next to the definition of "perfection" in your dictionary. people and times change. not everything has to be black and white. swim a little in the gray. do a freestyle once in a while- the butterfly is impressive, but nothing feels like floating around and testing the waters. nothing can compare to the freedom of all this simplicity.

7. your life isn't lost yet just because your mind was either too fast or too slow to keep up with the present. yes, the present shall be cherished- it's a natural gift, it's in the word itself after all. but it's not all over just due to the fact you move across the brain town every other day. you need to push and pull doors. open and close windows. find hands that offer themselves to you- there is at least one person out there who won't take them away when you try to reach them. but you'll find your way. i promise you.

8. you didn't have to raise yourself at some point- or many points, it doesn't matter, though. you didn't have to raise others either. always the listener, never the heard. always the talker, still never the heard. but, for whatever reason (or various reasons), it happened. give yourself a chance. a pat on the back. start taking this weight off your shoulders piece by piece. does it feel any better when you do so? yeah?

9. you don't have to be embarrassed of your interests. of singing an interesting variety of genres every sunday afternoon, during the designated listening to music time. of being excited over your favourite show. of gasping in shock when something unexpected happens in the pages of your current read. of being overwhelmed in the best way possible when entering the cinema or a theatre or a library or a museum, or when walking down the park. of wanting to learn more about this particular historical figure because you couldn't at school, being the perfectionist you are. of trying to write and almost always failing. of tearing up upon seeing a beautiful art piece. of tearing up or crying in general. no one is judging you. and if they are, that's their own issue to address. breathe in. breathe out. you are more than your bad thoughts.

10. slow down, you crazy child/ you're so ambitious for a juvenile/ but then, if you're so smart, tell me/ why are you still so afraid?/ where's the fire, what's the hurry about?/ you better cool it off before you burn it out/ you got so much to do and only/ so many hours in a day...

sorry.

i might delete it later. i might not. i hate being so open, especially on the internet, but all this anonymity gave me an opportunity. and i seized it. plus, i spared all the details. so.

**sigh**

#vent #vent? ish?#i don't know #birthday #birthday blues #so i blow out the candles etc etc #yes i just made a list #so agcd coded of me i know #(as the years go by i realise i am literally him)#(without the extraversion bit i could never)#also i am not being self-centered here #i really needed to get this off my chest #so that maybe another person can see it and realise they are not alone #and i know people have it way worse than me #but yeah #also i am not a swimmer i don't even know why water is such a thing here lol #*swimmer AND i don't #sorry for the simple speech it's like almost three am here #(which means it's almost four am because it's the day when it changes but oh well)

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c-e-d-dreamer · 2 years

Text

Wonderland: Part Four

A/N: And now back to my regularly scheduled writing and posting schedule ;) Trigger warning for animal attacks and animal/creature death. But uh hope everyone enjoys? I always feel weird saying enjoy with these parts because this whole fic is hella angsty but hey, maybe people do enjoy that.

Chapter Masterlist // Previous Part // Next Part

Nesta’s eyes flutter open to soft morning light filtering in through the windows. It streaks across the blankets of the bed, against the floor and walls, painting everything in golden hues. Much like the previous night, Cassian has curled himself around her, arm a secure weight across her hips and a leg hooked between her own. His face is half buried against her hair, every exhale skittering across her skin and leaving goosebumps in its wake. Nesta tries to discreetly shift away from that, but it seems those mating instincts are awake even if Cassian isn’t, the male softly growling and pulling her more securely against him.

At least the night had been all quiet, no nightmares returning to their usual haunts. For either of them. As much as Nesta hates to admit it, last night was probably the best sleep she’s ever had, and not just in the last two years. For once there was no restlessness, no broken and scarred images flashing behind her eyes, no floating in that in between space that always leaves her on edge.

She isn’t sure what to make of that, how she feels about it.

Nesta supposes she can simply add it to the long list of things she’s still so unsure about. Her mind keeps flittering back to Azriel’s words, to how Cassian had been after she’d rejected the bond. Even more so, she can’t stop thinking about Cassian’s words to her, how he would have taken her away, would have helped her if she’d only asked. She knows it never would have been that simple, but it doesn’t stop the what-if’s from tumbling around in her brain. Where would they be? What could they be?

Of course, it doesn’t matter now. It’s just about where they go from here, what next steps may be awaiting for them to take. It certainly feels as though they’re at a cross road, but is there a right one? Sunshine and green grass has never been a path Nesta envisioned for herself, never a possibility. She can’t help but wonder if maybe she and Cassian both are a little too broken, too full of jagged pieces weathered down by time, to truly be fixed. If they’ll always be cracked and imperfect no matter what. Perhaps darkness and a bramble filled path is their only option.

With a soft sigh, Nesta brings her hands up, pressing them against her eyes in frustration. It’s a move she instantly regrets, the cold air from the cabin rushing in and licking across her skin. Nesta shivers, hiking the blankets back up to her chin and burrowing deeper into them, desperate to chase their warmth. A wing curls up and around her, cocooning her and the warmth in, and Nesta freezes. She rolls over carefully to find Cassian fully awake and watching her. She isn’t sure if it’s the sleep or something else that’s helped, but his eyes are alert and intense, almost as intense as before. They’re certainly as unnerving as before, and it has Nesta clearing her throat awkwardly.

“Aren’t you cold?” Nesta asks, noting the fact that despite sleeping shirtless and having half his chest out of the blankets, Cassian seems completely unbothered.

“When you grow up in the snow,” Cassian explains quietly. “You get used to it.”

The comment has Nesta frowning. “I thought the cabin you, Rhysand, and Azriel grew up in was quite nice. It didn’t keep you warm?”

“Rhys’ cabin,” Cassian corrects her. “I spent my first few years after I got tossed into Windhaven sleeping in an old, torn tent on the outskirts of camp. It kept out the worst of the wind, but there wasn’t a lot to be done about the cold seeping up from the ground.”

The explanation has Nesta’s chest aching, the image of a young Cassian shivering in the cold flashing in her mind. They’re so similar and yet so different.

“Our cabin, if you could even call it that, wasn’t much better,” Nesta offers, toying with the fraying hem of the blanket. “Elain, Feyre, and I didn’t just share a bed because of the lack of space, the body heat helped as well. We used to fight over who got to sleep in the middle since it was the warmest. But there were still days, in the dead of winter especially, where we’d wake and be able to see our breath, where our hands would start to turn purple.”

“I know. Feyre told us what it was like when she first came to Velaris.”

Nesta scoffs at that, pulling away from him and sitting up in the bed. “Of course she did. Let me guess, she told you how horrid her sisters were too, right? No one ever wants to hear my side. It’s always Feyre’s side they’re on.”

Cassian is silent for a moment, and when Nesta looks back toward him, that heavy intensity is still swimming in his eyes. “I would have been on your side. If you’d have let me.”

“No you wouldn’t have,” Nesta whispers, curling her knees up to her chest and wrapping her arms around them. “You were always going to be most loyal to Rhysand.”

“You mean the person who exiled me?” Cassian shoots back, incredulity underlying his tone.

“I heard you attacked his family.”

“Are you asking for my side?”

A heartbeat passes. Then two.

“Yes.”

“I never would have hurt Nyx. Or Feyre. It’s just…” Cassian sighs softly, sitting up as well. “It was like every part of me was always screaming at me to get to you, I had to get to you, that instinct practically clawing at me, pulling me apart from the inside out. I tried to fight it, but it would get inside my head. I… I made a mistake that day. I thought it was a trick. I thought I was being taunted by the future I would no longer have.”

Cassian’s explanation is like a bucket of cold water over Nesta’s head, stealing her breath, stealing any sort of coherent thoughts. His words echo and ring in her ears, the pain laced through them like a knife straight through her chest. Her gut twists, guilt’s cold hands digging into her insides until Nesta has to look away from Cassian’s gaze.

“I didn’t—” Nesta pauses, swallowing hard. “I didn’t know. I didn’t know this was what happened. No one ever told me.”

“Would it have made a difference?”

Nesta’s gaze snaps back to Cassian, but the words stick to the back of her throat. What can she say? Would it have made a difference if someone had told her the consequences that awaited? She thinks back to the person she was back then, so utterly broken and weighed down by it all, so cold and unfeeling and desperate for any type of reprieve. Would that female still have rejected the bond if she knew?

She isn’t sure if it’s something he sees on her face or just the silence that stretches between them, but Cassian merely nods. He stands up and skulks out of the bedroom without another word, not even bothering to look back at her. Nesta closes her eyes, letting out a shaky sigh, before clambering off the bed herself. She quickly washes and changes into one of her dresses, taking the time to braid and pin her hair.

When Nesta steps out of the bedroom, she expects to be stuck spending another day in the cabin alone. What she doesn’t expect is to find Cassian in the kitchen, cooking. In fact, she has to blink a few times to ensure what she’s seeing is actually real, but he’s stood by the cabin’s small stovetop, still clad in only the pants he slept in, stirring a pot. He doesn’t turn when Nesta steps into the room, so she goes over to the table, sliding into one of the seats.

“Where did you go?” Cassian asks, walking over to her and setting down a bowl of porridge. “You said yesterday that you needed to get away from Velaris. Where did you end up going?”

Nesta picks up the spoon, twiddling it between her fingers. “A seaside town on the continent, near the port. I have an apartment there, and a job at the local bookstore. I help balance their books. I was always good at math.”

Cassian hums quietly in understanding, heading back to prepare a bowl of porridge of his own. Nesta finds herself watching him. Despite the wildness that has taken over Cassian’s features through the year of isolation, the morning light cascading in through the window still paints him in soft lines and shadows. When Cassian catches her staring, Nesta ducks her head, instead focusing on the breakfast in front of her, the cinnamon of the porridge sweet against her tongue. They eat in silence for a while, the only sounds in the cabin the scrape of their spoons against their respective bowls.

“And are you happy? Where you are now?” Cassian breaks the quiet, his voice barely above a whisper.

Nesta considers how to answer, how to accurately convey all the emotions she’s felt since moving to the continent, before settling on, “I’m happier.”

Cassian turns away from her, back toward the sink, but Nesta swears she can feel pain and regret that isn’t her own lance through her chest. It almost takes her breath away, but just as soon as it flares, that feeling is vanishing.

“There’s a storm coming in from the mountains,” Cassian says, pushing away from the kitchen sink and back toward the bedroom.

“It looks perfectly sunny outside,” Nesta calls after him, her brows pinching as she looks out the window, a stretch of bright blue sky above the snow and trees.

“It will most likely hit us later this evening,” Cassian explains, stepping back into the front room fully dressed. “I’ll make sure to check the nearby traps and gather enough wood for us to weather through it.”

“Okay,” Nesta agrees halfheartedly, unable to swallow down the disappointment as she watches Cassian pull on his boots. Another day alone in this cabin.

As if he can sense her thoughts, Cassian pauses where he was lacing up his boots and glances back toward her, something like shame pinching across his face. He holds her gaze for just a moment, but then he snaps back to the task at hand, securing his boots and yanking open the front door.

Left to her own devices again, Nesta gets up from the table, making quick work to wash the dishes from breakfast. She heads to her old bedroom, pulling the quilt off the bed and grabbing her unfinished book from the bedside table. She gets comfortable on the sofa, wrapping the blanket around her and balancing the book on her raised knees. She opens up to her last page, but her eyes keep glancing out the window, waiting to catch a glimpse of large, dark wings in the skies above, or even to see the storm Cassian mentioned. There’s no sign of either.

Nesta doesn’t mean to fall asleep, but something about the quiet, the warmth curled up in the blanket, the story she’s reading, it all lulls her until she’s shifting to get more comfortable and letting her eyes fall shut. She’s not sure how much time has passed when she’s finally tugged away from sleep’s gentle embrace, but the room seems somewhat darker, clouds having rolled in to cast the skies overhead in a dull gray.

Slowly, Nesta blinks her eyes open properly and comes face to face with a pair of almost glowing, golden ones. Nesta rears back with a startled shout, pressing back against the cushions of the sofa, but the large wolf in front of her doesn’t move. Its ears twitch slightly at her reaction, and it tilts its head as it continues to stare at her. Nesta’s gaze darts around the room, trying to figure out how the wolf even got inside, trying to find some sort of weapon nearby that she can grab and defend herself with. She half wonders if Cassian is close to the cabin, if she shouts his name, he’ll come barreling inside.

The wolf takes a step closer, and Nesta’s whole body tenses. It dips its head toward Nesta’s hand, and she swears she’s not breathing, watching with wide, weary eyes as the wolf presses its nose against her fingers. She waits for it to bite, for the pain of teeth sinking into skin to shoot up her arm, but it never comes.

Instead, the wolf continues to move its head until Nesta’s hand is resting between its ears. There’s something like expectancy shining in the gold of its eyes, and cautiously, Nesta starts to card her fingers through the fur, finding it surprisingly soft. The wolf lets out a contented huff, pressing its face closer to Nesta as she continues to pet it.

“Vidar…?” Nesta questions carefully.

The wolf looks up at her at the name, ears seeming to twitch in recognition. Nesta can’t help it. She laughs. She laughs until her chest is practically heaving with it, an ache threatening to overtake her lungs. Here she is, sitting in a cabin in the middle of nowhere Illyria, petting a wolf. A wolf that, until a few minutes ago, she didn’t even think was real. Maybe the isolation is starting to get to her too.

Vidar lets out another sound somewhere between a huff and a snort and steps away from Nesta, stalking toward the front door of the cabin. He turns his head to look back at Nesta for just a moment then faces the door again, thumping his large paws against the floor.

“Walk?” Nesta asks aloud. “Do wolves go for walks?”

Vidar turns to stare at her again, tilting his head slightly. It feels like answer enough. Nesta lets out a soft sigh, but she stands up from the sofa, depositing the blanket and her book. Perhaps a walk will do her some good too, give her a chance to breathe some fresh air and to untangle the knot of thoughts in her mind before she’s stuck inside during the storm.

Nesta slips on her boots and a heavy cloak before opening up the front door, Vidar bounding out and into the snow. The start of the storm seems to have already arrived, small flakes of snow falling slowly in swirls of white. They land like soft kisses against Nesta’s hair and eyelashes, and already her nose feels pink and snow bitten.

Nesta lets Vidar lead the way, the wolf clearly familiar with the terrain. She treks after him through the snow and between the trees that surround the cabin. All of the evergreens are blanketed in white, the snow weighing down the branches. With the snow falling softly all around them, there’s a quiet peacefulness to the landscape, and as Vidar comes to a stop, Nesta can’t help but close her eyes, tilting her head back toward the sky and taking a deep breath.

A low growl has Nesta’s eyes snapping back open again. Her attention goes to Vidar, the wolf now crouched down, hackles raised. His ears are pressed flat against his head, teeth bared, but his attention isn’t toward Nesta, but further into the woods. Nesta tries to squint between the trees, but the snow has started to pick up, and she can’t see anything. A shiver rakes its way up Nesta’s spine, her heart stuttering up a few paces in her chest. Suddenly, the quiet has take on a sense of eeriness rather than peacefulness.

Nesta takes a few cautious steps backwards, eyes darting back toward the cabin they came from, but then there’s a second growl, a growl that’s lower, more ominous. Nesta watches in horror as a creature twice the size of Vidar slinks out from between the trees, fur as dark as the shadows. Two pairs of horns curl upward from behind its ears, red eyes boring straight into Nesta. It snaps its jaw, fangs on full display, and Nesta feels icy cold terror lance through her.

She continues her careful steps back and away from the creature. One step. Two. Three. The creature takes a step forward, and Nesta freezes. Before she can even blink, Vidar jumps into the action, charging at the creature, and Nesta doesn’t need to be told twice. She turns and sprints back toward the cabin, desperately trying to drag her feet through the thickening snow.

A pained whimper sounds from behind Nesta, and when she turns to look over her shoulder, Vidar is crumpled beneath a tree, the bark splintered like he’d been thrown against it. Her heart gives a painful squeeze at the sight, a choked sound tearing past her lips, but she knows she doesn’t have time to worry about him. She continues her trudge through the snow, glancing behind her every few seconds to keep her eyes on the creature. It stalks toward her slowly, like it’s some sort of game, like it’s taunting her before it eats her. It takes everything in her to fight back the fear threatening to paralyze her, to keep her feet pushing forward.

Nesta glances back again, but suddenly, the creature is gone. Her feet stutter to a stop, and her eyes scan the tree line, squinting for a flash of black fur. Could it really have left? Just like that? She turns back around to continue toward the cabin, but the creature is right in front of her now. It must have circled around without her realizing, large, clawed paws silent in the snow. It rears back on its haunches before it pounces, and Nesta lets out a scream, arms coming up to shield her face instinctively.

She can feel the ground shake and shudder beneath her feet, red flooding her vision, but there’s no pain. In fact, she doesn’t feel anything except the cold bite of the snow and the fear still pulsing through her veins. Slowly, Nesta lowers her arms only to find Cassian in front of her, wings spread wide and sword poised in his hands, siphons casting the snow around them a ruby red as they flare.

Nesta can do nothing but watch as Cassian’s sword arcs through the air, slashing toward the creature without abandon. Cassian had always been so refined and elegant in his fighting, all those years training carving and molding him until he moved like a dancer across battlefields. But not now. Nesta isn’t sure if it’s the time without practice or the madness, but there’s a wildness in the way he moves and fights now too.

Unfortunately for Cassian, whatever the creature is, it’s built for and used to the snow, body moving lithely as it dodges the swings of Cassian’s sword. It lets out another growl and charges toward him, but Cassian stands his ground, using the creature pouncing to his benefit and burying his sword in the creature’s side.

The creature has barely hit the ground before Cassian is in front of Nesta, shaking hands frantically sliding up and down her arms, over her sides, cradling her face. His eyes are wide as he takes her in, and Nesta is sure that the way his chest heaves isn’t just from fighting off that creature. She can practically taste his fear on the back of her tongue where it mingles with her own.

“I’m okay,” Nesta assures him quietly, reaching her hands up to grip Cassian’s. “I’m fine. I promise.”

She feels more than she hears Cassian’s sigh of relief, his breath skating across the skin of her cheeks. His hands fall back down to his sides, and Cassian drops to his knees, slumping down against the snow. Nesta crouches down as well, pushing the matted hair off his face with gentle fingers and tilting his face back up to meet hers. But any words die in her throat when she takes in the glazed look that’s overtaken Cassian’s eyes, his focus clearly going in and out.

Nesta frowns down at him, and it’s then that she notices the red stain growing in the snow around them. She rears back enough that she can fully take Cassian in, finally noting the four long gashes on his chest from where the creature must have sunk its claws in. They look deep, and they definitely look bad, Cassian swaying unsteadily where he’s knelt in the snow.

“Oh, gods.”

—

Taglist (let me know if you would like to be added or removed): @moodymelanist @hellogoodbye14 @nestaspegasus @nesquik-arccheron @sv0430 @lady-winter-sunrise @talkfantasytome @secretlovelybeauty @dontgetsalmonella @swankii-art-teacher @mis-lil-red @bookstantrash @eirini-thaleia @sleeping-and-books @wonderland--memories @theoverlyenthusiasticwriter @sayosdreams @ubigaia @duskandstarlight @live-the-fangirl-life @chosenfamily-valkyriequeens @fromthelibraryofemilyj @luivagr-blog @autumnbabylon @xstarlightsupremex @lifeisntafantasy @deedz-thrillerkilller16 @superspiritfestival @faeriebambula @almosttenaciousmoon @vanjaulven @laughadil @magdoi @hiimheresworld @birdsdontwearshoes @marigold-morelli

#nessian #nesta archeron #cassian #acotar #nesta x cassian #nessian fanfiction #nessian fic #Wonderland au #my fic

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house-of-slayterr · 2 years

Text

Waking from a Nightmare:

Hannibal Family pt. 8: @charliedawn @iloveslasher

Tw: Abuse

Newt’s POV:

I awoke in Peter’s bed again. He was nowhere to be seen. The sheets were cold. He must have gotten up early, or perhaps he never went to bed. Memories of last night came flooding back to me. Emotions bubbling to the surface, I let out a scream. A primal scream, tears of pent up rage and anger and hurt fleeing my body in an instant. It shook me violently and I fell to the floor.

I held my head in my hands, trying to calm myself. My skin felt hot and sticky and I hated it. Why did this have to happen? Why couldn’t i just forget about everything and be normal? I’d pushed away the bad thoughts before, so why now we’re they sticking? Clinging to me like a desperate child. Thinking of everything that man did to me made me sick. My writs still ached from all the times he’d chained me up.

I could feel the marks on my back sting as I had flashbacks to the whippings. The skin on my left hand burned as I remembered the time he held it over the stove. To teach me a lesson when I accidentally burned dinner. My feet ached from the countless miles he made me run when I was in trouble. Every single thing he’d done to me was ripe in my mind, years of repression and denial coming to the surface. It stung unimaginably so, like a branding iron searing into my brain.

My nails being to claw at the marks around my wrist absentmindedly, causing them to bleed. I didn’t notice the tears, or the door cracking open. Peter was by my side in an instant. I didn’t even hear the other footsteps enter the room. I flinched back as he tried to touch me. I scooted back across the floor, beginning to hyperventilate.

I could hear them, I could see them, but it felt like they were far away. The room was spinning violently, and it felt like I was floating. I couldn’t ground myself.

“Hannibal, what do I do?” Peter’s voice grazed my ears.

“Make it stop!” I cried.

I didnt wait for a réponse.

“Please just make it stop. Everything hurts and I don’t want to feel anymore!” I begged.

Peter came toward me again. He squatted beside me and slowly held out his hand, attempting to remove my hands. He tilted my chin up to make me look at him.

“Tell me what’s wrong.” He plead.

“I can feel everything he’s done to me and it’s disgusting. Peter I’m disgusting!” I cried.

I screamed again, pulling my knees into my chest. It’s like I couldn’t control my emotions, they felt too big. Years worth of pushing them down, all bubbling to the surface in a chaotic display. It was utterly pathetic and I felt stupid, especially with an audience. Which was only making me feel worse.

“What kind of a person stabs their own father?” I asked, just loud enough for Peter to hear.

I felt awful, I could hear him begin to sniffle. I was stressing him out, making my best friend cry. Why did he even hang out with me? Why would he let himself cry for me? It didn’t make any sense to me. I began pulling at my hair.

“Uncle perhaps we should sedate the girl?” I heard Morgan finally speak up.

My head shot up, looking directly at him. He turned his head to make eye contact with me. My eyes widened. I was trembling and I couldn’t tell if it was fear or anger at this point. I couldn’t read his expression. His voice was flat and devoid of emotion, I expected to see him smirking. Chelsey he enjoyed my distress last night. But it wasn’t like that now, he seemed almost, disappointed.

I couldn’t even come up with a viable sentence. I wanted to beg them not to, but the only thing that came out of my mouth was useless.

“I’m not a girl.” I mumbled.

Hannibal took a step toward me, and I pressed myself further into the wall.

“You need to breath my dear. Can you do that for me?” He asked softly.

I shook my head no, finally looking at Peter and seeing the tears stringing at his eyes. It broke my heart and just sent me spiriting further. My breath picked up and my lungs burned.

“Morgan, please remove Peter from the room.” Hannibal instructed.

Morgan didn’t hesitate to follow his uncles request and came toward the both of us. It was obvious from his size he could easily remove Peter. But Peter didn’t seem to want to go. He reached his hand out to me and I grabbed it tightly. Morgan tugged at him, but I refused to let go.

“Peter, don’t make this difficult. We’re going to take care of them.” Morgan tried to soothe him.

“They need to be ok!” Peter cried. “Make them better!” He plead with Hannibal.

I could feel my grip slipping. Everything felt too much, I could barely see from how dizzy I’d become.

“Don’t leave me!” I begged.

And it was the last thing I said before everything went numb. I couldn’t feel his hand in mine anymore. I couldn’t feel the cold floor under my legs. I couldn’t feel Hannibal’s arms hook under my legs as he picked me up.

Hannibal’s POV:

The boys and I were discussing what to do about Newt, and Peter seemed to grow increasingly agitated. Morgan didn’t trust them, and Kevin was totally indifferent. But they saw us kill, it would be dangerous or give them any freedom now. We’d come to far to get caught over something so careless. Not that I regretted my decision for a second.

They were a child. They didn’t deserve anything that man did to them. He wasn’t even good enough to eat. I had Kevin dispose of the body last night. After the man bleed to death from his wounds. I had to admit, I never expected the teen to stab her father. I should have anticipated that reaction. Peter saw something in them for a reason. I was brought out of my inner headspace when I heard Peter raise his voice uncharacteristically.

“We are not killing them Kevin! God, could you be any more insensitive! You’re the worst cousin ever!” He seethed.

I know he didn’t mean his words, but I had to remind him that that sort of talk wasn’t allowed in this house.

“Peter.” I said in a warning tone.

“He’s being unreasonable Hannibal. They haven’t done anything wrong! They won’t harm us!” He said, must softer now.

“I know. Please calm down. We will handle this situation properly. Kevin, you are not to try and harm them unless they become a serious threat, do you understand me?”

Kevin scoffed, rolling his eyes. I grabbed his chin, forcing him to look at me.

“Do you understand me?”

“Yes, uncle.” He said.

I dropped his chin. Satisfied with his response. They seemed to forget I was in charge while Hannibal Sr was trapped in prison.

“I don’t think they’re run, but I doubt they’ll want to talk to any of us.” Morgan added. “I did trick then into seeing their father die.”

I was still upset at him for that. Morgan would be properly punished for his childish behaviour later. But I knew he understood what he did was wrong.

“Perhaps you can work on them Uncle? Wear them down like you did with Agent Graham.”

I tensed at the mention of William. He had helped me kidnap the man. I suppose he’d want an update on the situation. I would have to call him in for a session later. Suddenly a scream tore its way through the house. It sounded pained, like the howl of a feral wolf. Peter cringed, covering his ears quickly.

“Seems they’re awake.” Kevin said smuggly.

I glared at him.

“Get the room ready Incase we need it Kevin.”

He nodded and walked off into the far reaches of the house. He was insensitive at the best of times, it wouldn’t be wise to let him see them like this. But I couldn’t convince Peter to stay down stairs. We opened the door to his room, him getting there first. The sight before me was genuinely heartbreaking. This was one of the more intense panic attacks I’d ever witnessed in a patient.

I was the first to notice the blood. My nose more keen than that of the younger ones. Self injury wasn’t incredibly common during panic attacks, but it wasn’t unheard of. It was however more common in those who were neurodivergent, something I’d come to suspect of the teen. They didn’t respond normally to most things, it didn’t shock me that their parents never got them tested for anything. I was glad their father was gone, but their mother would have to pay next.

I couldn’t stop Peter before he ran to them, attempting to comfort his best friend. I could tell it hurt him when the flinched away, scurrying across the floor away from him. Morgan was watching intently. He wasn’t a man of much words, he preferred to observe things thoroughly. Newt cried out about being disgusting, and I suddenly understood what was happening to them.

They were finally processing years of torment. A post traumatic stress response. And a quite brutal one from the looks of it. The first one was always the worst. It caught the person off guard, and made them feel insane. PTSD is something that can get easier with help and understanding. But they were just a confused man’s hurt child right now, nothing more. Understanding wouldn’t come in this state.

“Uncle, perhaps we should sedate the girl?” Morgan said calmly.

I thought about it for a moment. It would be a wise decision, but this seemed to get a reaction out of Newt. They looked at us for the first time since we entered the room. Their eyes were red and bloodshot, but pleaded with me silently. They mumbled to Morgan about not being a girl. I don’t think he meant to misgender them, he just wasn’t thinking over the whole situation.

I took a step forward and they tried to press themself into the wall. As if it would somehow offer them shelter. Peter had began crying, it wasn’t entirely uncommon for the young boy. He was more sensitive than that rest of us. But it was never a fun sight. Not like when others cried and begged for their lives. Peter was family. It was different. I could sense he would slip into a panic attack soon as well if I didn’t deescalate the situation. Peter’s panic attacks left him quite destructive as well. It was more clear than ever that he cared deeply for this kid.

Things would be much easier if we could just kill them. Or perhaps give an impromptu lobotomy and lock them in the house. But it would be unfair of me to ask that from the boy. And besides, Newt had done nothing wrong. They’d already suffered quite enough for one person. More than anyone their age should be made to. I asked them to breath but it didn’t seem to work. Peter was my first priority, if I couldn’t calm them quickly, things would go bad quickly. I instructed Morgan to remove his cousin.

Peculiarly, they clung to each other. Previously they wouldn’t allow Peter’s touch, but now it seemed they were desperate not to let him go. It was obvious they cared as much for him, as he did for them. Which gave me hope that they could be reformed, shaped how we needed them. It might take a little effort, but in that moment, I understood they would do almost anything for Peter. I felt bad as Morgan dragged him out of the room, but he needed to calm himself, and Morgan was more than capable of controlling him. When I looked back at Newt, they were practically gone.

Their breaths were still jagged and shallow, but their eyes had rolled back. They were beginning to lose consciousness. Not totally uncommon for a PTSD related panic episode, but still not a good sign. I sighed, watching as their breath slowed slightly. Their body would go into autopilot soon, returning to a normal state. I put one hand under their knees, and the other around their shoulder, picking them up with ease. I passed Kevin on my way to my office.

“Geese, they look rough.” He laughed.

They’re was a thick layer of sweat covering their body. And their hair was a total mess, a few clumps missing from where they pulled them out. And their wrist were still red, but it seemed the bleeding had stopped on it’s own. Their nails hadn’t nicked anything important.

“The rooms ready.” He said simply.

“Thank you Kevin, but I don’t think we’ll be needing it quite yet.” I said.

I Saw the boy frown. He followed me into the office as a I set Newt down on the couch.

“You’re starting to care for that thing.” He said.

“They aren’t a thing, Kevin. Don’t be facetious.”

I knew it was reference to their odd choice in names. And the fact that Peter saw humans in a worse light than the rest of us. They were nothing more than play things to the boy. Much like his father, who found no need for friendships or meaningful relationships. The boys themselves hadn’t really been born out of love. At least not for their mothers. Hannibal simply wanted a family, the women were but a means to an end.

And Kevin took after his father in more ways that one. He was also more volatile than the others. Jumping to anger and violence without thought. Something Morgan and I tried to train him out of.

“Peter cares deeply for them. If I discover you tried to hurt them in any way; I will lock you in that room instead.”

I’d done it before. Not many other punishments worked for the young boy. He needed dramatic measures to be taken to understand when he’s wrong. Of course I loved him like my own, but children needed to be taught. He couldn’t just go around damaging innocent humans. It would get us caught. And his father and I have worked too Damn hard to keep this family safe.

“What’s so special about them anyways?” He asked.

I sighed.

“They’re the first person Peter cares for. And they’ll be easy to manipulate like William was. Except they’re younger and more naive. They could take the fall if any of you peek the interest of the authorities.” I stated simply.

Kevin seemed to understand my plan now. My motives were made abundantly clear.

“You did save the icepick, correct?”

“Yes, I used gloves when cleaning up the scene. And I put it in a bag. Is you plan to use that to frame them if something goes wrong?”

I nodded. He smiled contently. I watched as Kevin walked closer to the couch. I wasn’t quite sure what he planned to do. He sat down on the edge of the couch and looked down at Newt. Gentle moving some hair out of their face.

“I suppose they aren’t so bad.” He admitted. “I prefer them much more when they’re unconscious.”

He looked up at more for a reaction. I gave him none. I was used to his antics, I was going to reward him for his boyish behaviour.

“Did you sedate them?” He asked, curious.

“No, they passed out on their own accord. They should have woken by now, I’m the slightest bit concerned.” I stated.

“They’re weak.” He stated.

More as an observation than an insult.

“Then we make them stronger.”

His smile grew even wider. He hopped off the side of the couch and exited the office.

“Kevin if you’re going to go pick on Peter, I would suggest against it. Now is not the time to play games with him.”

“Don’t worry Uncle, I’ll be civilised.” He said, before disappearing into the hall.

I sighed once more, rubbing the bridge of my nose before sitting down at my desk. I began to work on paperwork, until I hear Newt stir. I watched as they slowly woke up. They rubbed their eyes and sat up slowly. Almost as if it hurt them. And looked around the room, before their eyes finally landed on me. I cleared my throat.

“How are you feeling?”

They scrunched their face.

“My head hurts.”

I nodded.

“I meant mentally, but that is good to know. I can get you some pain medication if you wish.”

They frowned.

“I’m fine, why?”

“Do you not remember what happened?” I rose my brow.

“Are you asking if I remembered that you kidnapped and tortured my father? Yes. Why am I in your office Hannibal?”

Interesting.

“You had an episode this morning, it was quite violent. You tried yourself out, so I brought you down here where you could rest, and I could keep an eye on you.”

“An episode?”

“You honestly have no memory of it? How are your wrists?”

“My wrists?”

They looked down to see the scratch marks on them.

“Oh.”

They seemed to be deep in thought. I didn’t want to interrupt.

“I was upset?” They asked.

“Very much so, yes. Do you get upset like that often?”

“I try not to, I don’t like the way it make mes feel. Hannibal-“

“Yes?” I asked.

“My head really hurts.”

I stood up from my desk and walked around it to the couch, crouching in front of them.

“Look at me.” I instructed.

The slowly lifted their head. They fidgeted heavily with their hands. Their pupils were blown. I moved their head from side to side, checking their reaction. I slowly stood up and turned off the light before digging through my desk for some Tylenol. I handed it to them, as well as grabbing a water from the fridge I kept in the corner.

“Here, take these”

They took it without question. Good to know they still trusted me.

“Your body still seems to be coursing with adrenaline. We’ll need to lower it if you’re going to start feeling better. It doesn’t look like you can think much in this state.” I said.

“How would I do that?”

“Could you calm yourself down?”

“I am calm”

“Consciously, maybe, if you’re panicking in your subconscious, that will be much harder to address. Would you allow me to try something?”

“Will you answer a question for me first?”

“Of course, whatever you wish?”

“Are you going to kill me?”

It sounded defeated, like they expected it as a fact already. I paused, trying to figure out the best way to answer. I knew they appreciated honesty.

“No. I do not plan on doing anything like that.”

“Then why did you do it?”

Tears stung at their eyes as their voice got weaker.

“Your father was a bad man, he deserved punishment.”

“Am- am I not bad as well? Neither of my parents loved me, that doesn’t exactly bode well on the goodness scale.”

“Of course not. You are a child, you’ve done nothing wrong. It was not your fault that your parents are incompetent. Their lack of love for you, is their own fault. I wish it was different, you dont deserve parents like that.”

“And my mother? What are you going to do with her?”

“She is a coward. We can send her away if you wish.”

They thought for a moment.

“You won’t kill her?”

“Her sins aren’t as heavy as that of your father.”

“I don’t wish to see her Hannibal.”

“As you wish. Now, was that all your questions?”

They nodded. I gave them a gentle smile.

“I’m going to hypnotise you.” I began.

I saw them tense.

“Don’t worry, there’s a fail safe, you can ask me to stop if you’re uncomfortable. But I believe it’s in your best interest. You’re blocking out massive amounts of trauma. You need to deal with them if you wish or feel better. Your mind is sick, and I want to help.”

“I’m sick?” The rubbed their arm. “But I try so hard to be well. I don’t give in to the negative emotions.” They said.

They were worse off than I thought. At first, I assumed their positive, bubbly attitude was just a show. But it seems they’ve convinced themselves that that’s how they really are.

“That isn’t healthy to do, negative emotions are a necessity. You have to allow yourself to feel everything, if you wish to have some sort of control. People who aren’t sick, can remember when they’re sad, or angry. But you build it up so long, that your brain cannot handle your outburst and it makes you forget.”

“Could I- could I hurt someone?” The asked sadly.

“Yes, that is possible. But I know you do not want to. Which is why I’m going to help you. Will you allow me to?”

They nodded.

“Very good. Please, lay down, get comfortable. I’ve cleared my schedule, so we have the entire day.”

I gave them a stress ball I kept on my desk for patients.

“If at any point you want to stop, just squeeze this really hard. I’ll be watching for it.”

“Ok.”

They laid on the couch, holding the ball in their left hand.

“Just take some deep breaths, alright?”

It took nearly half an hour of me instructing them, for their body to relax. I had expected it to take longer, but again, they surprised me with their amount of trust. I sat at the edge of my desk, reading their body language intently. A few more minutes and I’d have them in the suggestible phase. I could implant anything I needed.

“Newt?” I asked.

They hummed, lackadaisically. Their pupils were still quite large and their eyes were glazed over. They’re mind was far away, just were I needed it to be.

“You won’t leave Peter, will you?” I asked.

“Of course not.”

“And you’d do anything for him.”

“Yes, of course.”

“If the FBI come searching for your father, what will you tell them?” I asked.

“My parents left me, no note. I have no idea where they are, or what they’ve done. I’ve been with the Lecter the entire time.”

I smirked. This was much easier than I thought. A few more sessions and this will become a solid memory. I could get them into this state quicker with each passing test.

“Why don’t you rest now? You’re quite tired. When you wake, you won’t remember anything about this session, other than the fact that the hypnosis helped you feel better.”

“I am tired. Goodnight Doctor Lecter.”

The slowly closed their eyes, adjusting themselves on the couch. I grabbed a blanket from the trunk across the room and put it across them. Desperate people were easy to manipulate, and they were desperate for love. They wanted us to like them, because we’re important to Peter.

As if on que, there was a knock at my door. I opened it to see Peter standing there. I stepped aside to let him enter. His eyes instantly fell on their sleeping form. He didn’t turn to look at me.

“How are they?”

“Better. I believe my methods are helping.”

“Are you going to break them?”

“Not if I don’t have to. They seem perfectly capable on their own Peter. They just need a little persuasion. Which I’m sure you’ll help with. You do want them to stay, right?”

“Of course I do.”

“Then convince them. Morgan and I will take care of their Mother, no one will come looking for them. They gave me permission.”

“They did?”

“Yes. I don’t think they want to leave Peter. You picked a good one.”

He smiled down at them, stoking their hair.

“I did, didn’t I?”

“I’m sure Hannibal Sr would want to meet them eventually. He’d love to know about the newest member of our family. Once I take care of their mom, I’ll let will know they’ve been legally abandoned. As they are still a minor, they will need a gardian.”

“You’d be willing to do that?”

“They’ve been nothing but pleasant, I cannot blame them for their trauma Peter. They aren’t rude, and they make you happy. We’ll discuss it with them when they wake.”

“May I stay?”

“As long as you wish.”

I exited my office, leaving the two teens alone. I suppose this is one of the better outcomes. Morgan and Kevin would certainly not be excited, but they would get over it. Newt had no where to go, and they were too deep in now too be trusted on their own.

An: I love this chapter so much! Peter and Newt won’t be separated now! They’ll have their favorite person and be able to keep him safe! 🥰

#hannibal family #Hannibal lecter #Morgan lecter #Peter lecter #kevin #Kevin lecter #Hannibal Jr #newt

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