#i really did try to know better‚ though. growing up felt like violently clawing my way into trying to understand anyone and everything | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

cynettic · 3 years

Note

hi, i hope i'm not bothering you, but i can order a Scaramouche × Kitsune reader, the two met before the vision hunt (and before he was a fatui if you want) the reader was always in the same place, sometimes having a conversation , the good old routine, but with the hunting of visions the reader disappeared not wanting to give up his own vision, and years later a reunion, SFW or NSFW is by your will, thank you, I really admire your work

Summary - Scaramouche met you as a child, growing up with the constant assurance that you would be right there, sitting at your spot where he could meet you with every visit. He isn't happy when you suddenly disappear.

Pairing - Kitsune!Reader x Yan!Scaramouche

Warning - Slight Yandere warnings?

Penpal - Ahhh- hope this is what you were looking for. I couldn't find a spot to put much nsfw unless I considered writing more for the series ( I could, just put a request in if thats what you’re looking for ). But I hope you liked it!! You're not bothering me at all and I'm glad you like my work!

A/N - Alright- so considering that with the 2.1 update with Scaramouche coming in, I just wanna state beforehand that I wrote this prior so I dont know if we learn about his backstory or anything!!

Link for Part 2

Stay With Me

Scaramouche was used to the routine he’d found himself going along with every visit to Inazuma. As a child he’d pass through the wild fields that stretched just beside his hometown, adventurous and curious with all the tenacity of a child.

And of course you, a kitsune that sat perched on the ground awaiting the Kitsune Saiguu, was bound to notice him. Unlike the other earth kitsune statues, you hadnt turned to stone during your wait. Instead, staying in the same place did you interact with travellers and the locals, which included Scaramouche.

“Fox person!” The little boy chanted, pulling at the hems of your clothing. Bright blue eyes bore into your own, and you slowly shifted your head to pay attention to the boy who was on the verge of bouncing on you.

Humming in reply to his excitement, the little boy paused, both of his small hands still tightly clasping the fabric of your clothes. Soft matted hair brushed past his face in a messy manner, calling out the boy for his boundless running and rebellious urge to keep his hair messy despite his parents wishes.

“Play with me!”

Staring at the boy only a moment longer, you simply chuckled at his antics. “I’m afraid I cannot move from the spot in which I dwell~ Perhaps I’ll be able to entertain you if you bring cards?”

But the young boy had made up his mind at the statement to which you couldn't move. A pitiful frown enfluged his face as he cast you the nastiest glare a five year old could muster. “Boring!” He shouted into the distance of the fields, dramatically turning on his heels and bouncing up into a sprint away. You watched his small figure fade away into the background, absentmindedly sighing and returning to your mindless thoughts.

As a child, Scaramouche would pass by you fairly often. Frequent when he asked you to play with him, and storming away with the same expression when you denied him. Nothing out of the ordinary, you’d lived for an exceptional amount of time, and even though grumpy children were not your specialty, you’d grown accustomed to their behaviour.

Growing up, Scaramouche got no better. You soon noticed his violent tendencies before they became an issue, the way the children shied away from him when playing Temari. Hiding in front of a tough exterior, he scared them away and laughed, approaching you later with tearful sob.

“Will you play with me?” He asked again, trying to hide the fact that he still wept when the other children pushed him away.

But your answer stayed the same, helping him wipe his tears and coaxing him into your arms. Not the first time you’d made contact with a human, but the first time you held them in such an affectionate manner.

It was clear Scaramouche was beginning to see you as some sort of pillar of reassurance when he began running away from home to simply ask to be held. You always welcomed him with open arms, urging him to head back to his household and sort things out. There was no harm in simply providing love and comfort for a child who received none was there?

“Now now, hurry back home little one. Your parents must be growing awfully worried if you’re out by this time at night.”

“My parents dont care about me!”

Darkness slowly pooled into the fields, an obscure shade covering the two of you from the tree you were under. Biting back form your normal emotionless statements, you pondered for something to soothe and convince the boy. Misunderstandings and hardships were normal from what youd seen with children, and you could only offer your hand on his shoulder, a promise. “Go back, I promise to stay here if anything further happens. But you shold give them another chance dont you think?”

And so he’d sprint back to his hometown, and you wouldnt hear from him again till he ran up right up to you a few days later. Begging you to play a game with him. The normal you supposed, and with a grin that seemed to stretch wider with every day, you told him the same thing you told him every single time.

“You cant move?!” Scaramouche nearly yelled one time, tiny fists curling at his side. “Thats… thats stupid!”

“It is isnt it?” You only smiled in response.

Unsatisfied with your response, he clawed your arm, pulling you with all his might. Strong, you realized with surprise that he was much stronger than most children his age. Easy enough to tug away from, but strong enough to take you off guard.

Snapping your hand back to your side, you narrowed your eyes. You weren't angry… no, you hadnt felt strong feelings like that after the disappearance of the Kitsune Saiguu. “Do not attempt to move me,” was your curt response, said in the most stern voice you’d used with the boy.

He’d looked at you only a few seconds longer before bursting into tears, turning away and running. You didn't feel regretful for defending yourself, only turning once more with a tired sigh to stare at the distance.

But just as you stayed ageless, Scaramouche grew older. Still, crossing each others pass was inevitable when you sat in the plains, just alongside the path that lead to his hometown.

With a permanent scowl that seemed to stain his face, he still seemed to have mature a tad bit. Maybe hadnt improved in the social department, because he now scared children and adults and alike, but more mature…

“Hm? Whats this?”

Once again, sitting criss cross under the large tree that provided the perfect shade on sunny days, you stared at the boy expectantly. His hands hesitated at your question, but he resumed shuffling. “Cards,” he simply said in response.

A small featherlike feeling flitted across your chest, making you feel lighter and… almost ticklish. A small smile crossed your face, and you recognized the emotion to be one of adoration. For him to have remembered words you’d spoken years ago, it gave you a warmth you’d sorely missed. A warmth akin to watching him and the other children grow up.

“Ew, dont smile like that, its creepy.”

Swatting at his head, he frowned further when you laughed. “You’re more mature,” you pointed out, lazily leaning back. “You need to work on your people skills though, as someone who hasnt moved in years, thats pitiful that I know more than you.”

“Shut it!”

But as he grew up, you hardly got to see much of him. He’d reached your height and then fully disappeared, leaving no goodbye. And much as you hated to admit it, you hardly noticed, not when days passed in a flurry. You were used to being by yourself, entertaining the kids and greeting the people that passed by.

Sometimes, there’d be the reminder of the warmth he’d given you. But it was quickly overshadowed by your duty to remain seated in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. A dedication kept in its earnest, but beginning to dwindle.

Inazuma was beginning to change.

“The vision decree…” you repeated, staring at the traveller who’d mentioned it to you. “Care to elaborate?”

The new archon threatenening to take away visions from every inhabitant of Inazuma. It was preposterous, so much that you didnt move. Your vision meant the world to you, but so did the Kitsune Saiguu. You werent sure just how you weighed the two till you saw civilians passing by you, ones you recognized, ones that didnt recognize themselves.

It was snowing, cold snowflakes melting into your skin while your hair soaked in the water. Unflinching, you hummed to a little tune, awaiting someone to pass you so that you could attempt to strike a conversation of somesort. The unnatural weather distanced all who entered the field though, and you simply waited. For the Kitsune Saiguu, for someone, or for some form of entertainment, you didnt know. You Slowly closing your eyes, you decided not to care.

“Im gone for five years and you’re still sitting here like a dumbass.”

Eyes snapping open, you find yourself face to face with a complete stranger. Dark purple hair with dark blue eyes, piercing and dangerous in a way you dont recognize at all. Fancy clothing that you cant identify or put a name on.

The boy took a step towards you, crouching down to stare at you directly. His eyes scanned over your figure briefly, and he brushed the snow out of your hair and ears with one flick of his hand. In the next, he was offering a coat to you. “Take it, you’re probably getting cold.”

You leaned forward, ignoring the coat he offered you. Gently, you raised your hand to brush the hair from his eyes, centred on the way his pupils widened. Offering a small moment of surprise and one glimpse into the small childlike blue eyed wonder he was. “Kiddo,” you breathed, pulling your hand back and scanning him once again. “You’ve grown.”

“And you havent.”

Snickering at his comment, you took the coat. You didnt need it, but he looked like he didnt either. He was already wearing clothing that kept him warm, and with careful observation and an untouched coat, you settled on the fact that he’d brought it here. Brought the coat here for you.

“Still havent improved with those social skills of yours have you?”

He scoffed, letting himself fall back till he was sitting fully. “I dont want to hear it from someone who refuses to move an inch for years. Lazy ass.”

You open your mouth to retort, but instead laugh at his comment, shaking your head. “Gained some humour on your journeys have you? Bad words too it seems. Anyways...” He had sat down, which meant that he meant fully well to sit, chat, and catch up. That familiar warmth filled your chest, a contrast between the cold snow. “Welcome back.”

It wasnt often that Scaramouche visited Inazuma, but when he did, he was sure to visit you. The two of you would sit down for hours, talking about the most trivial topics. He never mentioned what he did in his time away, and you never asked.

But things began to go downhill when news of the vision decree finally took action.

“Its no joke anymore! The Raiden Shogun has taken custody of almost a hundred visions!”

In that moment you made your decision, weighing your vision over the Kitsune Saiguu. Awfully selfish you knew, but you’d spent decades sitting there in wait.

And for the first time you sat up from your position on the ground, clumsily stumbling upright but gaining balance. It takes a few steps until you’re back to normal, and you begin your journey in order to escape the Raiden Shogun’s vision hunt decree.

_-_-_-_

You didnt expect to see him again.

Long grass tickled at the skin of your legs, making you adjust your footing to no avail. Sun slowly descending past the mountains to mark the start of an evening and the soon approaching night. A normal day of exploring the mountains and islands of Inazuma, observing the constant changing situation, and running away from the vision decree like a favourite past-time.

With the exception of a firm grip on your wrist.

Dark purple like hair, same hate brimmed eyes and lavish clothing. You recognized Scaramouche the moment he had appeared, looking just as surprised as you were. That being before he snatched your wrist and snarled, “You.”

You wouldve considered it pure luck to find him, an unexpected reunion with someone you actually remembered. But no, his tone had some predatorial edge to it that had you cringing. Hard. “Yes, its me.” You answered back with a frown, trying to loosen his hold. “Nice to see you too, is something the matter?”

He only seemed confused at your words, pulling you closer.

“Something the matter?” He asked as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Well, to start, you’re not sitting at your damn spot.”

Taken aback for a moment, you wondered if that sole fact was what drove the boy to such lengths. Surely he couldn't be so troubled over the fact that you moved… “The vision hunt decree, I'm sure I mentioned that I was sticking around in wait for the Kitsune Saiguu. I decided to wander around and avoid the conflict until I could settle back.”

“You could’ve waited for me,” he stated almost instantly. “I could have protected you.”

You felt your brows furrow quizzically. “Wait for you? Why in the world would I-”

“Why wouldn't I?” He pushed you closer till he could fully grab both wrists, taking a step closer as if his words would resonate clearer in your head. “You took care of me as a child, it would only be fair for me to repay the favour.” But he only seemed to be looking for excuses. “And besides, you can't just up and leave… I didn't know.”

Before you could interject with the obvious answer that he didn't need to know, you stopped. You’d lived decades, nearly centuries if you’d kept count, and you had learned to read people's expressions even when you’d stayed away from them for so long. He didn't know. It hit you in the most unpleasant way that he wasn't aware that it was none of his concern. To him, you were just another thing he needed to keep track of, something he had control over. His face basically screamed, ‘I depended on you to stay in that place.’

Deep breath in and out. You’d lived long, longer than him, you could deal with a child throwing a tantrum.

“Don't worry,” you gestured to the vision ta your side. “I'm strong enough to protect myself, I appreciate your concern, but I’ll be back when the vision decree ends.”

Unconvinced, he pulled you closer, just until your faces were mere inches away from each other. “No,” he said in a stern voice. “I’d rather you by my side, where I can protect you. I hate to question what you’re capable of, but you’ve been sitting down for as long as I’ve known you for.”

“I’ve lived decades more than you,” a simple reply, hopefully enough to get by him. You snatched your hands back with ease, ears flinching slightly when a cold breeze swept past you. But you stayed firm, not wanting to look vulnerable against the imposing air he had around him.

Still unconvinced. “You’re coming with me.”

“No I’m not.”

You’d known him as a kid, watched him grow up along with all the other small ones in his hometown. And maybe you admit you cared a smudge bit about the warmth he gave you when settling down to play cards, but he was different. He had changed in the worst way and you weren't about to deal with it.

“So you’re not coming with me voluntarily?” He asked softly, taking a small step to which you responded by stepping back. He had his hands up, as if telling you he wouldn't hurt you. But the way he said voluntarily sent shivers up your spine.

“No.” Hand on your vision, you held your own hand up threateningly.

He took his time when tilting his head, taking a deep breath in, and then appearing in front of you in just a short stride. Too quick to react, you hesitated before you could attack him. You didn't want to hurt him, he was still a child in your eyes, and you paid the consequences for that. He slid his hand just along your neck, and a jolt of electricity seemed to thrum inside you just as you collapsed in his arms.

Scaramouche was quick to catch you, hoisting you up into his arms dearly. “I do hope you’ll come to understand,” he said softly, cradling your unconscious form in his arms. Making sure not to crush your tail when carrying your legs, he looked past the mountains, sigh resting on his lips.

Because Scaramouche liked to have control of the things he held dear. Like keeping all your valuables neat and tidy in a closet, he was happy knowing you were safe and stable in that spot you always sat on.

And he couldn't have you moving could he?

#genshin impact #genshin headcanons #genshin oneshot #genshin fanfic #genshin scaramouche #genshin scaramouche x reader #scaramouche x reader #genshin impact x reader #cynshealthysfw #genshin fluff

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keilemlucent · 4 years

Text

long days for bad people

(r18+)

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

word count: ~6k

Being a prized, adored possession was far better than you thought it would be.

warnings: light daddy kink (no age play, just the name in mostly jest), spit kink, crying kink, degradation, brief descriptions of blood + violence, kidnapping (consensual?? read a/n), brat taming, light sadomasochism, mind break, praise kink

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here it is, mafia au, villain hawks, dom, brat tamer, soft(?!) hawks. what more could you want?

there’s briefly described kidnapping at the beginning of the fic but it is reiterated throughout that this is consensual! no yandere/stockholm stuff in this fic.

i’ve been working on this one for a while and i’m happy to finally share it. hope y’all enjoy!!

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You shouldn’t have fucked around with the League.

God, it was common knowledge in the parts of town and circles you inhabited. Of all criminal syndicates, mobs, to fuck with, the League wasn’t one of them. They were known for their complete cruelty and violent delights. The League had such a reputation due to the fact that they openly left bodies carved up and burnt as they pleased.

But, you were a fucking idiot and got involved anyways.

It was a small loan, Giran almost seemed to scoff when he gave you the cash. You and your almost-stranger of a roommate were just very late on some bills and were going to lose a lot of material items if you didn’t scrounge up at least two paychecks in about three days.

You swallowed your pride and took the first and easiest loan you could get. That just happened to be with gap-toothed, wide-grinning Giran of the League. He, you knew from what you’d heard, was somewhat fair in matters like yours.

You had two weeks to pay him back.

...

You didn’t make it in time.

You were close to the amount, notably. You scrounged and clawed your way into getting the cash back. You weren’t much of a pickpocket, but you snagged some odd jobs around the apartment building that you and your roommate were still fortunate enough to keep a room in.

After one particular job, a nasty carpentry gig that you weren’t qualified for, you returned home tired and worn.

Sure, you were a day late on payment. But with this last gig, you were so close. The League would have to pity two, stupid, stupid young girls?

They didn’t, you realized, as you stepped into your apartment.

Your roommate's slain corpse was laying over the arm of your cheap couch, eyes vacant and mouth dripping blood onto the old beige carpet.

You dropped to your knees, horrified and completely stunned.

“You should’ve known better,” it was a hum from across the room, from a figure you didn’t even know was in the room until then. “Really, you’d expect folks to be smarter.”

Your mouth dried as the figure moved from the nighttime shadows, flashing a dazzling smile and ruffling crimson wings.

Hawks.

You’d heard of him, everyone had. Terrifying, fast, precise, and cutthroat. He took orders and didn’t ask questions other than snark. He talked too much, fucked too much.

“W-wait,” You didn't know why you were pleading, but you had to try, right? “I’m so close, wait—”

Hawks sauntered up to you wielding one of his feather blades, the red of blood mixing with the filaments of his feathers.

He crouched down in front of you, tsking, “I don’t like begging, angel. I’ll make this quick for you. Your friend there?”

Hawks jerked his finger behind to your dead roommate.

“She fought, pleaded, begged, all that normal shit I don’t like hearing when shitheads like you two don’t make payday,” his voice was slow, talking about death like some casual thing. “I’ll make this nice and fast if you don’t run your mouth anymore, how about that?”

You swallowed, nodding.

The small percentage of your brain that was fully functioning figured dying quickly was a much better way to go than whatever the hell had happened to your roommate. There was far too much blood for that to be quick.

Hawks hummed, the tip of his feather blade tipping up your chin so you were forced to meet his gaze. You vaguely heard the pitter-patter of your tears hitting the carpet below. Blood rushed in your ears as you stared death in the face.

Hawks appraised you.

You watched the metaphorical cogs and wheels turning in Hawks’ skull as he looked you up and down before flashing forward, gathering you in his arms and flying from the apartment.

Your first thought was obvious as you clung to him in the open air:

He’s going to drop you and kill you.

When you screamed, tears growing thicker, he slapped a gloved hand over your mouth, “I’m giving you an out, kid. Trust me. You’ll prefer this over death.”

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Your new existence was certainly better than death.

If you were ever caught and convicted of any of the illegal things you participated in, you’d be fucked, thrown into prison until you rotted, until you were just dust and bone.

But, until then, you worked for the League.

You had groveled at the feet of their leader, Shigaraki, hands clasped on your lap, claiming your worth, or maybe lack thereof. Not many attachments, not many people who’d miss you, a semi-useful quirk.

With a boot shoved into your skull, he sneered that you’d be the League’s new errand dog.

The real reason they accepted you was due to the threatening air Hawks was exuding and the fact that their old ‘errand bitch’ had died the week prior. They needed a new body to act as a civilian and do things that only an unsuspecting-looking ‘civilian’ could. You fit the bill, and Hawks had taken a liking to you.

Oddly, working for the League was actually pretty okay.

You got your own room. It was small, but you only had to share a bathroom with the somewhat unhinged Himiko, but she was fairly nice once she warmed up to you. Everyone lived in the League’s HQ and went about their business, getting drunk at their bar front each night.

Most of the mess happened at night, but it was important to put on a nice veneer and keep spirits high. Not to mention that no one would dared to fuck with the League, anyways. The cops and federal government had long been paid off due to the resources that the League had acquired for them.

You felt somewhat untouchable.

A lot of this confidence was due to the fact that you had become Hawks’s... Keigo’s...

‘Songbird’

As he liked to call you, anyway.

Keigo was the general, loveable annoyance of the League, but his connections were invaluable and his skills were unmatched. Despite how he could grate on people (read: Dabi and Shigaraki), he was respected and feared just as much as everyone else was, if not more so. And being his metaphorical and literal pet had its perks.

Sure, the first time he had you come to his ‘office’ and he fucked you against the window until it was smeared with cum and blood was a bit surprising, but god, if you didn’t fucking love it. Being Keigo’s personal fucktoy came with protection, pleasure, and a surprising amount of genuine attention. The dude was lonely, and so were you. The two of you made a good ‘couple’, if you could even call yourselves that. The sadism he doled out was always counterpointed by affections that did seem genuine.

Keigo was fond of you, and you of him. Maybe your brush with death had twisted something in your head, to even allow yourself to get close to a man like Keigo, but you couldn’t make yourself care.

You were comfortable and content.

...

[bird boss]: hey babe ;^) get to my office in the next thirty minutes

[you]: what if i don’t

[bird boss]: do u really want to find out

[you]: ...

[you]: im just curious

[bird boss]: don’t get cheeky songbird

[you]: u make me wanna u know

[you]: i know it gets you riled up

[bird boss]: tread lightly kid

[you]: oooo i gave you some guff over text

[you]: what’re you gonna do about it?

[bird boss]: use your imagination

[bird boss]: 25 minutes now, songbird

[bird boss]: don’t make this worse for yourself <3

You set your phone on your cheap duvet, quickly primped yourself to see Keigo. He wasn’t too strict about your appearance but wearing dark clothes and some of the more expensive gifts he’d gotten you over the months he’d been screwing you never hurt. Something about ownership with him always got him hot and bothered.

You tried to remind yourself frequently that Keigo saw you as some sort of possession, but a possession with feelings.

Meandering through HQ was always a bit daunting, despite your protections. Your skimpy outfit choice and hardly-hidden lingerie made you feel a bit more like an object than you liked too.

There were hardly hungry mouths around the League, they kept you all fed, but god, were there starving eyes.

Dabi wolf-whistled as you walked past him through a common room, shouting something about how Keigo was collecting his pound of flesh for the day. Maybe a line or two about being a whore, but that was all flavor at that point. Keigo called you far meaner, more sinful things. And hell, it wasn’t like Keigo hadn’t... shared you on more than one occasion.

Maybe you were a little fucked up for enjoying your lifestyle to the degree you did, but why not indulge where you could? Life was far shittier scraping paint off old fences and picking up cans to just scrape by.

Opulence was a breath of fresh air. And if you were Keigo’s fuck toy? Then, god, you were Keigo’s fuck toy.

When you arrived at Keigo’s office, you knocked gently on the door, quickly adjusting your skirt and blouse.

The door opened, though no one was behind it. Only a single one of Keigo’s feathers allowed you entrance.

His office seemed daunting and extravagant for a man who did most of his ‘work’ in far-shadier, far-bloodier places. The walls were covered in mirrors and old paintings, something out of vanity and pride, knowing how Keigo saw himself. There were several black leather couches scattered around against walls, some stained by your various... activities. There was a broad desk parallel to a back wall made entirely of windows.

Night had fallen, leaving the room lit by a few lamps and warm fixtures.

“Hey, boss,” You hummed as you stepped in, shutting the door behind you just before the lingering scarlet feather flicked the lock on the door.

And the other one.

And the deadbolt.

You swallowed thickly.

As much as you enjoyed a lot of the perks of your... position, it was also daunting.

Keigo was daunting, all bloody colors, vanity, and hunger.

He sat behind his desk, wings puffed up, and partially extended over the back of his chair. The desk chair was massive, specifically acquired so that you would have enough room to properly straddle his lap for hours on end if he so wished.

Keigo idly clicked around on his desktop computer. He leaned slack and back into the chair, legs spread wide and exuding casual confidence that reeked of his own ego.

Keigo normally wore a mix of black and red, as edgy as it was. He liked to seem clean, hide the stains of sanguine that undoubtedly lingered on him no matter how he tried to cleanse himself. His black slacks were pressed, the seams pristine. The black shirt he wore was rolled up to his elbows, the buttons of his red vest undone as well. His black tie hung half-undone and limp around his neck. His tousled gold hair was mussed as normal, ruffled by his flights. His feathers might’ve needed preening, but you doubted that that was the reason he called you to his office.

And based on the deep set of his brow and the sickly smile on his lips, he was already on edge and in a mood.

“Songbird, come over here, will you?” Keigo sat back from his typing, watching you from across the room. He took you in the same way a parched man sucks down red wine, greedily and soon to be fucked. “On my lap.”

You complied, despite your earlier attitude. You padded across the room, going around his desk.

As you moved to straddle his lap, worn hands gripped your waist. His amber eyes gave you a warning, crinkling at the edges, “Not like that, sweetheart. Do daddy right.”

Oh, so it was one of those moods.

Maybe you were Keigo’s sexual punching bag so he could exert control on something he could later kiss better and patch up.

Sure, he was going to fucking ruin you, but part of the fun with him was that the more it hurt, the nicer he was after. And, all things considered, with some of the... other folks the League brought in to satiate its member’s desires, you fared far better. Keigo cared about you, in his own particular way.

You tried to lean over his lap yourself, but his hands and feathers positioned you perfectly as he wanted. With the tight grip he had on your waist and shoulders, dragging you just as he liked, it was easy to see his need for control.

Your head hung off of one of his thighs as you squirmed in his lap. His bulge already pressed into your ribs, a wonderful reminder of the reward you’d reap later on. Keigo’s hands gathered your hand to the small of your back, a feather replacing their grip a moment later.

“Sit with me while I finish this shit,” Keigo grumbled, going back to clicking the desktop. His leg bobbed absentmindedly, his free hand rubbing over the curve of your barely-covered ass. “Be a good girl, (Y/N). If you can stand that.”

He laughed under his breath.

You let your head dangle limply downwards, blood rushing to your cheeks.

You’d thought you’d be in for more of an ass-kicking, but it appeared Keigo was taking things unusually slow. You knew better than to complain, but kicking up a bit of metaphorical sand couldn’t be that bad, right?

“I dunno,” You hummed, kicking your legs lightly. “I don’t think you like it when I’m a ‘good girl’, daddy.”

“Watch it.” A single, sharp smack to your butt was hardly enough to shut you up, but Keigo did so all the same, rubbing over the covered flesh a moment later, “I’m not in the mood.”

“Are you sure about that?” You wriggled, intentionally pushing up against his growing erection.

His breath stuttered, a smirk pulling at the corners of your lips. The hand on your ass didn’t rear again, rather Keigo kept thumbing smooth circles as he continued to click around on the computer. He might have been actually doing work. Or, he was ignoring you, egging your sass on.

“If you didn’t want anything, why’d you call me in here?” You asked, way too cheeky for the way Keigo’s body was practically vibrating underneath you. Pissing him off had consequences, of course, but you weren’t in the mood to play ‘good girl’ that day.

“I told you, I want you to sit with me,” Keigo pinched your ass. “But, you’re too mouthy to do just that one thing. You’re usually better than this.”

“Am I?” You played innocent, craning to give him a wide smile. “Hadn’t noticed. What I am noticing, is your already-hard cock, dear.”

“Oh, ‘dear’?!” Keigo paused on the computer. “Cheeky. Cute.”

Keigo would just dig in more, lean in, before ‘snapping’, if you could call it that.

You gulped as his hand swatted at upper thighs, his nails almost knicking your skin.

“Up and don’t get smart about it.”

Oh, you were going to be remarkably smart about it.

You rose but hardly stayed upright for long. Sliding down to your knees, you pushed at Keigo’s legs, “Wouldn’t you prefer me down here? Just for a treat while you finish your work?”

Keigo clicked his tongue, gaze flickering down to you, “Fine. Behave yourself.”

Yeah, right. You both knew that that wasn’t going to happen.

You were already tucked underneath his desk, undoing the fly of his pants.

You pulled his cock from his trousers, pumping his cock to full hardness. Smearing around preek for a bit of extra flare before inching forward.

Wrapping your mouth around Keigo’s dick was somewhat of a feat— he had a decent girth to him, so you usually took the opportunity to warm him (and yourself) up with a bit of tip-kissing and kitten licks.

But, you were feeling bold.

You spit on his dick, a move that normally would have earned you plenty of verbal snark, but anything Keigo could’ve said to you was swallowed as you took his cock down to the back of your throat.

You sucked around it, massaging the vein on the bottom with the flat of your tongue. Drool began to pool at the side of your lips as you let the head bump your throat, gag reflex be damned.

All the while, Keigo had stopped moving above you. The fabric of his trouser balled up in his ringed-fingers as he gazed half-lidded down at you.

You smiled around his dick, looking up at him innocently as you began to slowly bob your head. His wings fluttered, twitches and air stirring around you.

Keigo stifled a laugh, a hand tangling in your hair, “All that talk earlier and now you’re treating me to a blowjob without even me having to tell you to? Dove, you’re too much.”

You pulled off of him to reply, “I can only try.”

Before he could reply, you spit on his dick again, and went back to slurping around him.

You held the base of his cock in your hands, twisting and spreading spittle. It almost felt like your actions were for show, but Keigo’s eyes were rolling back in his head all the same.

You smirked.

A drool pool from your mouth, puddling in your lap and soaking your skirt. Not like you weren’t already dripping from the sinful sounds Keigo stopped trying to hold.

“A-ah, that’s it, angel,” Keigo fucked into your mouth with his hold on your hair. “Just like that.”

Your hand rose to play with Keigo’s balls, teasing at the sack as he cried out a high moan above you.

Considering the performance you were giving, it was unsurprising to feel him tensing above you. You’d been on your knees for him hundreds of times; you’d learned to see the little twitches and puffs of breath he’d give when he’d get close to coming.

You pulled off his cock with a pop, detangling the hand from your hair in the motion. It was all fast enough that Keigo couldn’t have stopped you in his hazy, pleasure-filled state.

Based on the look of rapid disbelief he was giving you, your trick had worked well. Knowing Keigo’s... tendencies made you hesitant to push him too much in the past, but for whatever reason, you were feeling stupidly bold.

Consequences.

“Sorry, daddy,” You wiped at your mouth with the back of your hand. “Didn’t feel like swallowing today.”

Keigo’s disheveled appearance was more than gratifying. Knowing how easily you made him come undone by that point was one of the perks of your position.

His hair was more than ruffled, strands and tufts chaotically curled around his cheeks and ears. There was a bright blush on his face, spreading from his nose to the apples of his cheeks, down his deck. At some point, he’d popped the buttons at the top of his shirt. He was covered in a sheen of sweat, half-panting and based on the darkness in his brow and the far-too peachy smile on his face, Keigo was fucking pissed.

His wings stood on end.

You gulped from below him.

Maybe you pushed your luck too far.

Maybe.

“You’re playing real cute today, aren’t you songbird?” Keigo didn’t move, but his feathers twitched above him, wings flaring out even farther. “Real fucking cute.”

You were fucked.

Good.

A few feathers flew from Keigo, one snagging at your wrist, wrapping around it, and pulling you up from the desk.

You wobbled as you stood, dragged across the room as Keigo leisurely followed behind you. When you tried to set your own pace, Keigo swatted your ass with a huff, “You never learn, huh? I thought I’d trained you better than this.”

You opened your mouth to spit some dickish retort, but you were cut off as Keigo’s shoved you onto one of the leather couches.

“Don’t.” Keigo’s tone was acidic as he stood over your, wings still flared out. “I told you I wasn’t in the mood for your cute bullshit, dove, and you still decided to test your luck, huh?”

You kneeled on the cushions, sucking down air, shaking with anticipation.

“You don’t feel like swallowing today? That’s fine, I can work with that,” Keigo shrugged easily from above you.

Keigo had an... active sexual imagination, and you could tell by the crook in his lips that he had something devilish planned as retribution.

A sharp slap came down on your cheek, Keigo catching the opposite jaw and keeping you from recoiling too far. You blinked as the pain spread around your skull like licking flames against a frostbitten body.

You wanted more.

A little grin stretched against your mouth as Keigo rubbed at your cheeks with his thumbs, “Aw, you always get so sweet like this, dove. You can be a good girl if you try, can’t you?”

His actions carried candor and his words absolute torment.

Despite how Keigo was trying to goad you into submission, you had a bit of spark left in you.

Plainly, you spit on him.

The glob of saliva landed on Keigo’s cheek, under his eye.

He blinked at you.

You continued to smile.

His own expression grew strained.

“Oh, songbird,” Keigo damn near lamented, wiping away the kind gift you’d given him. His voice was smooth without any bit of waver, all of the sexually-charged anger rolling just beneath the veneer. “You’re just being pain slut today, aren’t you?”

You were, absolutely. You could feel your arousal wetting your panties, the heat of the strike from your cheek beginning to boil something in your gut.

“You just need a bit of special attention today, right? That’s all.” Keigo tsked, fully removing the tie from around his neck. “You just need a little reminder.”

“Reminder of what?” You asked, tilting your head quizzically.

Keigo flipped you, feathers pushing and bracing you as needed while nimble hands tore off your clothes without reverie.

“Plenty of things, especially with this attitude you’ve got today,” Keigo’s tie looped around your wrists, binding them together at the center of your back.

“You definitely need a reminder of who’s the boss around here,” Keigo shoved you forward, stomach flush with the back of the couch.

You reeled from the pace of it all, shifting your knees for any bit of stimulation you could get. Keigo’s feathers were slicing and pulling your clothes from your body faster than you could keep track of. It was overwhelming, making your mind swim in the best possible way. You throbbed.

“Maybe a reminder about who fucking provides for you,” Keigo’s own clothes were shaken off, dropped to the floor and forgotten.

It was true. Keigo always made sure than you were taken care of, in more ways than one. Despite how fast-paced and laid back he could seem, he was always on top of making sure you had more than enough material and immaterial pleasure whether than be in the form of food, fucking, or otherwise.

You yelped as a smack fell across your ass. A feather caught the elastic of your panties, snapping a moment later, leaving you fully bare before him.

Keigo’s worn hand came to press at your throat and jaw, tilting your head back as he climbed behind you, “Maybe, you need a reminder about who keeps you safe.”

This phrase was softer than the others, a sweet kiss pressing to your cheek and his voice a bit more gentle. It was jarring at the skin still stung from his earlier strike, but you cherished the heat besides.

Once again, true. The folks in and outside of the League were greedy. There were plenty of unwanted souls that stole glances at Hawks’s prized songbird. There were starved eyes that tore into you whether you were dolled up for Keigo or not. There had been some... close calls, one could say, but Keigo always was there, in the end, unafraid to get his hands dirty.

“You know what the most important reminder is, dove?” Keigo rolled his hips against you, cock wedging between your thighs.

“N-no,” You stuttered, brain turning gooey as Keigo’s arms snaked around your waist, sharpened nails leaving indents in your hips.

He nosed at your neck, leaving a few love bites in his wake.“‘N-no’, what?”

“I don’t know,” You leaned back into Keigo’s chest, rubbing your thighs around his cock.

“Oh, songbird, you sweet thing,” He chuckled, all teasing and self-indulgent. “I’m the one who makes you feel good.”

He was so right, wasn’t he?

With the way he’d learned your body over the last few months, he’d had some undeniable pursuit to make you feel the best.

Keigo was inquisitive by nature. He had kept you on your back for hours while he finger-fucked you, watching every twitch and roll of your hips to figure out just the right ways to break you. He’d kissed and sucked and slapped every inch of you, sussing out the perfect ways to make you writhe and cry for him.

Sure, you were an absolute terror to him sometimes. Not to mention that Keigo jumping you covered in the blood of that day's targets was as macabre and horrifying as it sounded.

But, fuck, if he didn’t know how to bring you to ecstasy that fucking ruined you in the best way.

Keigo got off on watching you shatter for him. It was the reason he’d torn you from that cheap, bloodied apartment in the first place. A kind, naive little morsel that he could play with as he wanted. You didn’t complain. Fuck, you reveled in his attention. You gave it back to him, like the fucked up, semi-divine being could be any more debauched than he already was.

Corruption spreads, but you’d never complain. If being plucked from struggling for pennies to being fucked stupid by a man who could kill you at a moments notice, a man who would kill for you, somehow poisoned you?

You’d die with a bitter taste on your tongue and a smile on your face.

Keigo rubbed at your clit, nipping at your neck, and rolled his hips greedily. His cock was covered in a mix of your slick and his own preek, easily sliding between plushness of your thighs.

“You love pushing me, acting all tough,” Keigo chastised, clicking his tongue. “I mean it when I say it's cute.”

You don’t have any more quick retorts in you, not when his fingers are down your throat, gagging you as spittle dribbles down your chin onto the leather below. It was sure to leave a mark.

“Behind all that bark and snark, you’re just a good girl, aren’t you?” Keigo punctuated his words with a bite and nip to your neck. “Just needed a reminder, right, dove?”

You whimpered against his fingers at the praise, grinding against Keigo’s touch needily.

His fingers pushed pinched your tongue, breath curling over the shell of your ear, “What are you?”

You mumbled against his fingers, “A g-good g-girl.”

It was humiliating in the best way. Keigo’s light laugh at your attempt. The way he nuzzled his nose into the sweat at the crook of your shoulder was just aloe on the burn.

“I misspoke, if you can believe that,” Keigo’s cock pulled out from your thighs. “Songbird, you know what I meant to call you?”

You squirmed at the loss, but he was quick to hush you. His fingers left your mouth with a thick trail of spit.

“You’re my good girl.”

You melted in his arms.

Falling back against Keigo’s chest, you craned your neck to lock your lips to his.

Maybe that was it, why all the filth didn’t bother you. Because you had worth. Maybe it was insecurity, or maybe it was self-aware in the face of your lived experience. Before being taken, the life you’d lived made you just a rusty cog in a dying machine. You wouldn’t have amounted to anything, probably.

But with the League?

You were the prized, beloved consort of an angry god.

Keigo owned you, body, mind and soul, and you let him. That’s not even to mention how you had him wrapped around your finger. He adored you, under all of it.

Fighting with him was for sport, not blood.

Keigo licked past your lips, pressing his cock to your cunt teasingly. You whined against him, wriggling in his arms.

“What does my good girl want?” Keigo loved making you beg for him, claw for any bit of stimulation. He liked it even better when you were already soft for him.

Stray tears pricked at your eyes, “Y-your cock.”

He pinched the meat of your thigh, shaking his head, “Not good enough. Speak properly, dove. Clear and correctly.”

You swallowed, searching for the words in your own haze.

Your words were willed to be solid.

“I want your cock, daddy.”

It was just enough.

Keigo pushed forward, the head of his cock already stretching your cunt. Consider the girth of it, the lack of preparation stung and burned more than you would’ve liked, as good as it felt to finally be filled.

Keigo cooed at your soft tears, keeping your face to his with a firm hand on your jaw. He shushed you, far too sweetly while licking the salt from your cheeks, “Relax, angel. Big breaths.”

You nodded, sputtering as he speared into you. Keigo’s free hand went back to toying with your clit, encouraging the tension to drain from your body.

As he bottomed out, you shuddered, falling back into his chest. Keigo’s wings fluttered, twitching in wait. Hot breath fanned over your face, Keigo groaning and locking his jaw.

The stimulation was overwhelming. You had expected Keigo to be meaner, considering how mouthy you’d been.

Yet, it made sense. Keigo had figured out one of the better ways to make you break was softness.

(Truthfully, it made him crack in the same way, but he’d never tell.)

“Feel that?” He asked, just barely rolling his hips.

Keigo released your jaw in favor of wrapping a hand around the front of your throat, tugging you as close he could manage.

“Uh-huh,” You panted.

You could, the kiss of his cock head against your cervix was almost uncomfortable. The delicious pressure and sensitivity already had you reeling in his arms, unsteady and wanting.

“I fill you up so good, don’t I?” Keigo praised his own ego, his cock, but he wasn’t wrong. The curve of his cock rubbed against all the right spots. He stretched you just right, the burn ebbing away into a need for more, more—

“Please, Keigo—” You gasped. Your legs shook as Keigo slammed into you, shoving you forward and into the wall.

His pace was brutal. Hands and feathers kept your back in a harsh arch as he rearranged your insides to his liking. He was kind enough to keep stroking at your clit, bruising your hips and babbling filthy nothings.

“I’m the one who makes you feel this good, only me, right, dove?” Keigo growled into your ear with a particularly hard thrust.

You nodded against the wall, aware of the drool slipping down your chin as your mouth lolled open. Your insides were hot like white flames, searing any ability to use coherent speech.

Keigo snickered at your state. Slowing, he gripped your ass cheeks. You yelped, inside jumping as he pried them apart. You flinched, hole twitching as he spat down, the liquid cool against the flushed skin.

It was little moves like that, Keigo just subtly making your shudder and feel dirty that got you the most fucked up and fucked out.

You pressed back on his cock, panting against the wall and keening. You would’ve spoke, if you could, but anything that you had the ability to say would’ve been torn apart by Keigo’s sharpened, silver tongue.

“My filthy little dove, huh?” Keigo sneered, watching you try to bounce on his cock the best you could. “Such a glutton when you get broken down like this, needy whore.”

The pleasure of Keigo’s cock tearing up your insides was all you could focus on through the fog of your mind, desperate and wanting and greedy.

“Y-your,” You corrected, the words bubbling from your lips, disjointed and messy. “Yours.”

Keigo may have been avian, but he purred like a damn cat at your admission. He held you like a possession, cock throbbing as he fucked you just right.

“God, you’re sweet, angel,” He nipped at your jaw before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Even all fucked up, you know who you belong to so well, don’t you?”

You nodded, rolling your hips back.

Keigo must’ve taken pity on you, squeezing at the sides of your neck. Cruel as he could be, he must’ve noticed the way your thighs and knees trembled against the leather. Keigo knew the cloud in your eyes well— how to get you hazy and how to fuck you perfectly through the fog.

He fucked back into your dripping cunt, pace harder and faster than before. You were helpless to do anything other than fall forward into the wall, cheek squished against the scarlet.

“Who’s brat are you?” Keigo squeezed a bit harder at your neck as you swallowed against his palm.

“Y-yours—!” You squeaked out, mind going numb from the stimulation and pressure.

A wicked sneer curled against your ear as Keigo’s movements grew sloppier. His tongue lolled over your shoulder, messy kisses and slobbery bites and marks left in his wake. He was close, but you weren’t far off easier.

“Little bird,” It was sweeter, closer and hotter. “Can you come for me? Come all over my cock?”

You nodded.

“Not good enough.” Keigo bit down, nearly breaking the fragile skin of your neck. “You know I like words, angel.”

You gave him words, plenty of them.

Nearly incoherent pleads and cries poured from your bruised lips as Keigo pounded into you. Each blabbering wail was met with Keigo groans and grunts, condescending little phrases spitting over you without release.

Your lack of leverage and use of your arms made you thumping against the couch and wall, vision darkening on the edges as the pressure in your gut and the hold on your throat remained.

You were breaking in his arms, tears rolling down your cheeks as you held yourself from cresting. The exertion of it all was taking its toll, legs jellied and chest beading with sweat.

Keigo sensed it, shifting his hips to hit the spongy spot in your cunt, “Come, dove.”

You let go.

A sob shattered in your throat as your climax crashed through you. Keigo released your throat, holding you by your bound arms as he bottomed out. His own harsh cry panged against yours as he stuffed you full.

Surprisingly gently, he rocked his hips against your own, letting the ambient throb of your cunt milk him dry.

You came down, rolling and spinning as you sucked down air a bit too fast. Keigo panted behind you, though the sound seemed dull.

The pressure from your wrists released, soft thumbs rubbing at where the fabric had bitten into your forearms, “Hey, angel, you with me?”

You could only nod weakly, exhaustion and aches creeping in.

Keigo repositioned the two of you, setting himself against the arm of the couch, wings up free to drape and splay over the floor. He dragged you with him, pulling you to lay on his chest. The stickiness of his spunk, your slick, and general sweatiness might’ve been uncomfortable, but you weren’t quite lucid enough to care.

“How are you feeling? Still feeling a little mouthy?” Keigo teased, already knowing your answer.

You muffled a groan against his chest, shaking your head against the sweat of his chest.

“Awww,” Keigo chuckled, fingers brushing over your cheeks, “Is my dove a little fucked out?”

“Keeeigo, b-be nice.”

Your voice broke, parched.

Keigo snorted, pressing a kiss to the side of your forehead, “I guess I can manage that. Just for you, though. Can’t let the others see me get all soft.”

You wouldn’t; seeing Keigo warm and gooey, both of you mutually fucked-out, was a pleasure only you got to indulge in. And you loved every moment of it.

++++++++++++

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#salem writes #hawks x reader #takami keigo x reader #takami keigo #hawks x y/n #hawks x you #takami keigo x y/n #takami keigo x you #mha smut #mha x reader #bnha x reader #hawks #hawks smut #hawks fanfiction #takami keigo smut

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daryl-dixon-daydreams · 3 years

Photo

Words: 4,565 Daryl Dixon x Reader Reader pronouns: she/her Era: Alexandria Warnings: Language, typical TWD stuff A/N: This is Part 5 of a series! Find the previous parts on the Masterlist! Summary: A violent encounter outside the walls only increases Daryl's questions and concerns about Y/N.

Your name: submit What is this?

You immediately and instinctively grappled for your knife at your hip and unsheathed it, staring up in horror at the two men now standing over you. A lot happened very quickly. It must have only been matter of seconds, but it felt immensely long.

“Ohhhh, sweetheart. You’re in trouble,” one of them said, laughing as he glanced over at the man beside him.

You tightened your grip on your knife but the next moment there was a swift kick to your wrist and then a boot came down on it, crushing it into the floor, eliciting another yell from you. Your knife clattered away and you followed it with your eyes desperately.

You struggled to get away but the man was suddenly grabbing you by the ankles and dragging you closer.

“Get the fuck off me!” you growled. You lashed out with your boot and caught him in the face with the toe.

“Agh! You fuckin’ bitch!” he roared, spitting out blood onto the floor. He let out an animalistic growl and stood over you. “You’re coming—with us!” His words were punctuated with strong kicks into your ribs, which left you unable to cry out or even to breathe. You curled into yourself on the floor, willing your diaphragm to unclench and draw breath.

Daryl. The only desperate thought in your mind.

The man who was standing over you suddenly dropped down so he was straddling over your writhing form. “I said, you’re coming with us. Back where you belong.”

You finally were able to wheeze in a breath and glared up at him. “Fuck. You,” you spat, disdain contorting your face. Where the hell was Daryl? you thought desperately.

“This will go a lot easier if you don’t fight it!” his partner shouted down at you, rifling through his bag for something. “We don’t want to hurt ya!”

You shot a knee up as hard as you could and caught the man over you in the tailbone. When he doubled over forward, swearing with his face growing more and more red, you did the only thing you could think of and headbutted him in the face. Hard. As hard as you could.

His nose crunched sickeningly and started to bleed profusely. He let out an anguished scream while you were seeing stars. Fat, crimson drops fell down onto you as you struggled, still beneath him. You were trying to extract your body from beneath his but his weight was too much. He was now completely enraged and the next thing you felt was his hands around your neck, squeezing, compressing. You couldn’t breathe. You tried to break out of it but his hands were so large they wrapped completely around your neck, compressing blood vessels and your airway. Your scratched and clawed at his hands, trying desperately to pull them away. You started to see spots and darkening around the edges of your vision. You clawed at his arms with your fingernails and tried to break his grip at the elbows. You were vaguely aware of some commotion in the background as your struggling grew weaker by the second. You were going to black out.

But suddenly, you could breathe and the weight of him on top of you was gone.

You curled over on the floor, coughing and sputtering, gasping in rasping breaths desperately.

“Y/N! Y/N!?” Daryl’s voice nearby, completely frantic.

You couldn’t stop coughing. Your throat was on fire. Your neck felt raw.

“Jesus—can ya breathe?!” Daryl’s urgent voice again. You felt his hand on your shoulder.

You finally managed to gain control of your gasping breaths again and rasped out. “I’m okay,” nodding but unable to look over at him. You submitted to another coughing attack. Your gasps were wheezes like a kid with asthma.

Daryl was kneeling beside you with his crossbow in his hand. “Are ya sure?!”

You finally glanced over at him, certain your face was bright red and your expression desperate. His features were overwhelmed with panic and concern, blue eyes piercing through the curtain of dark hair around his face. You nodded. “Uhh… I think so. Mostly.” You winced, feeling pain suddenly shooting through your wrist and ribs and a pounding in your forehead as the wave of adrenaline had crested and now started to diminish. “Fuck… What the fuck?” you said, glancing around. There were the bodies of the two men, both with a crossbow bolt through their head.

Daryl clenched his teeth and gently grasped your arm. “C’mon.” He pulled you gingerly to your feet. You stayed hunched over, an arm wrapped around your ribs. You squeezed your eyes shut and tried to steel yourself for a moment.

“Fuck…” you muttered again, not even meaning to speak it out loud.

Daryl froze, looking at you with his brow furrowed. His stomach was rolling with regret. “I—'M’ sorry. I should have been faster. I—but this goddamn ankle and I had to get my bow loaded and—”

You raised a hand to quiet him and shook your head. “S’not your fault. At all,” you said, pressing a few fingers to a particularly raw feeling spot on your neck.

But Daryl was blaming himself. He should have been there faster. The angry red marks around your throat were burning into his memory. He bit back his anger at himself and re-secured the front door as best he could. He glared down at the two corpses and retrieved his bolts. He nudged his head in the direction of the other room.

You followed him in, still hunched over. He pointed at the couch and you sank down onto it slowly, hissing through your teeth with each movement.

Daryl set his crossbow down and immediately grabbed his pack. As he was digging around inside it, he spoke with some anxiousness. “Ya know them?” he asked, not looking up from his bag.

You gulped. “What?”

All his movement stalled, his hands still inside his pack, clutching medical supplies. “They sounded like they recognized ya. Said you’re ‘comin’ back where ya belong.’ Did ya—d’ya know them?” When he finished the question, this time his eyes flickered up to your face, watching your reaction carefully.

You were gingerly holding your wrist in the other hand and Daryl thought your eyes looked a bit frantic. You didn’t answer. You seemed—frozen.

Daryl nodded and shrugged, turning back to the pack. “S’alright. Ya ain’t gotta say.” He felt like he pretty much had his answer. “What hurts?” he asked you gently.

You didn’t answer for a moment and Daryl thought he saw waves of panic rising and falling in your eyes.

“Y/N—” he said again.

You seemed to come back to reality, grounded by the sound of his voice saying your name. “Umm… right. I—my wrist. I think that’s the only thing we can do something for. Nothing to do about my ribs,” you said with a wince, your breath hitching every time you tried to inhale too deeply.

Daryl pulled out some gauze and materials to splint your wrist, which he suspected was broken, based on the swelling and how it was already changing colors. “We need to get ya back to an actual doctor,” he mused. “Tomorrow I’ll see if I can find a car close. We can take it back to our truck. Can’t let that wrist go too long without gettin’ set.” His eyes continually found the ring of angry red around your neck and he watched as you pressed a hand to your head, which was pounding.

“You can’t go out there by yourself. You’ve got a fucked-up ankle,” you argued.

Daryl shot you a look and heaved a sigh, leaning his arm on his bent knee where he was crouched. “Well, now out of the two of us I’m in the best shape. So, we’re gonna do what I say and you’re gonna sit here and rest. Ya got a broken wrist and probably some cracked ribs. Not to mention that fucker nearly choked the life out of ya.” His tone told you arguing was pointless. “Now gimme your damn arm.”

You avoided his eyes and held out your hurt wrist. His rough hands on your skin was grounding and you were again reminded of how he had insisted on stitching your arm up that night when you came back after your last bad run-in outside the walls. He was amazingly gentle. You marveled at how small your arm looked in his hands—like something fragile. Daryl was trying to minimize the skin-to-skin contact—almost fearful of what was happening inside him every time his skin brushed yours, but it was a little difficult to do while he was tending to you. He splinted and wrapped your wrist, frowning at the way your thumb was already bruising purple. “Ya scared the shit outta me,” he murmured softly, not even meaning for it to actually fall from his lips.

You raised your eyes to his face in surprise but he was still fixated on bandaging you up. “I’ll, uhh, try not to do it again,” you said, and Daryl was relieved to hear that your voice had relaxed some, though the rasp was still in it.

“Better not,” he growled. He grabbed a small gauze pad and poured a little alcohol on it. “Here. Ya got a pretty good scratch on your jaw there.” He scooted closer to you and watched as you swiped a few fingers over it.

“Oh,” you said, looking at the rusty color that came away on your fingers. “Probably did that to myself trying to pry him off of me…”

Daryl’s expression darkened. “Mhm.” He hesitated a moment before dabbing at the scratch with the pad. “Really. Ya scared me.”

_ _ _ _ _ _

“Jesus fucking Christ!” Rosita exclaimed as she heaved the gate open to let you and Daryl into Alexandria. “Thank God!” she exclaimed next, looking both of you up and down. “Rick was about to send out a search party. We’ve all been worried sick. Aaron has been driving me insane, coming up to the gate every ten seconds to ask if I’ve seen anything.” Her eyes finally seemed to register the full extent of your injuries and she froze. “Y/N—your neck… Oh my God. What the hell happened?” she pressed, shutting and latching the gate behind you both.

“Uhh…” you walked unevenly, your uninjured arm wrapped around your ribs, though it did nothing to lessen the shooting hot knives of pain with every breath. “Walkers. And then more walkers. And then a corpse and rotten floor boards. And then—” you hesitated., suddenly feeling sick.

“And then people,” Daryl finished gruffly, sparing a glance over at you, his face darkening with worry.

“Shit,” Rosita said, her eyes going round. “A corpse? As in, not a walker? And did you say something about rotten floor boards?”

You nodded. “Yeah...”

Daryl shot her a look that clearly said ‘later.’

“Sorry—just… I need to get to the doctor to fix my wrist before it heals this way,” you said, avoiding her eyes.

“Right! Right, of course. I’ll grab someone else for guard duty and go tell everyone you’re alright. Here, I’ll take your guns.” You and Daryl handed over your weapons and Rosita hurried off.

You limped your way to the clinic and he insisted on holding the door open for you and letting you go in first. Surprisingly, Pete was still there. You always assumed he just was drunk after 4:30 pm.

“Whoa! Looks like we’re running a little ragged, huh? Come on in and sit down and let’s have a look at you,” he said jovially. You eyed him with distaste.

“Where’s Denise?” you asked.

Pete looked around the room dramatically, hands outstretched. “Not here. So, shall we—”

“I would prefer to see Denise.” Your tone was cold.

Pete let out a laugh which he only managed to make sound half-genuine. “She isn’t here so—”

“I’ll wait,” you snapped. You limped over to an exam table and sat down, your countenance stormy.

Pete glanced at Daryl and he shook his head. “Nah. Just her. I’m good. Sprained ankle is all.”

Pete let out an exhale that was mostly a growl. “I guess I went to med school to be an errand boy,” he muttered under his breath, but nonetheless, he left to find Denise.

Daryl sank down on a rolling stool and scooted over to sit near you. “Hey,” he said suddenly.

You snapped out of some deep reverie you were having and looked at him.

“Ya alright?” he asked. “Really. I mean, that was some serious shit that happened out there…”

You nodded. “Fine.” You uninjured hand went to absently touch the bruises on your neck, which were now dark and mottled. “Thanks to you.”

Daryl shrugged. “S’nothin’. Wish I had been faster.”

You rolled your eyes at him. “No. No, it was definitely something…” Despite your assurance that you were okay, Daryl had the sense that it wasn’t entirely true. You were alive, sure, but since those men had busted into the house you had been uneasy. It wasn’t lost on him that you turned to glance behind the truck the whole drive back to Alexandria, and even now, safe inside the walls, you were rigid and on edge. You should have known better than to try and bullshit Daryl. The archer was annoyingly good at reading you. But, to be fair, you were also annoyingly good at reading him.

Your eyes shot up as the clinic door burst open loudly. Aaron ran in with his mouth dropped partially open and wide eyes. “Oh, thank God,” he said, rushing over to you and Daryl and immediately grabbing you into a tight hug.

“Ow! Ow ow ow! Aaron!”

Aaron drew back suddenly at your exclamations. “Oh—God, I’m sorry.” His eyes found the bruising on your neck and his face blanched. “Oh my God. What the hell happened? Are you alright?” he asked desperately.

“Define alright,” Daryl murmured.

You shot him a scolding look. “Yes, that’s what I need. Worry him more. Thanks, Daryl,” you said.

“What happened?” Aaron asked desperately again. It wasn’t lost on him how you avoided his eyes as you answered.

“Just—people. Bad people,” you said.

He stared at the dark purple bruising on your thumb and the splint before glancing over at Daryl.

“If Daryl hadn’t been there—” you broke off, giving Aaron a somewhat fearful look.

Aaron looked back at the archer again and heaved a heavy sigh. “I won’t hug you,” he said, cracking a smile, “but thank you. Thank you.”

Daryl nodded.

“Okay, I promised Eric I would come right back with an update so, umm—I’m gonna go, but thank God you’re back and you’re at least mostly whole,” he said, backing toward the door again. “Thank you,” he said again, looking at Daryl.

You let out a small laugh as the door shut behind him, shaking your head, smiling fondly.

“You’re close,” Daryl said. “With him and Eric.”

You nodded. “Yeah. When they first brought me in, I used to joke that I was like a stray cat they found and adopted. I felt so out of place, you know? And they just—they didn’t care. They just accepted me right away. Made it feel a little more like a home. They’re good like that. They understand what it’s like to be an outsider.”

Daryl nodded. He knew exactly what you meant.

Denise came in with Pete trailing after her. She looked a bit harried and you apologized for having her come in, to which she just gave you a small smile and a meaningful glance. She was well aware of your feelings toward Pete and she shared them… He stood lurking around in case Denise had questions.

“Okaaaay,” she said, gingerly unwrapping your wrist, wincing at the sight of the swelling and bruising. “Yup. This needs to be set…” she said gently, glancing over at Daryl who was still sitting nearby, his blue eyes taking in everything like he was standing guard. “Okay, Y/N, just lay back.” You obeyed, letting out a wry laugh and a forced exhale at the pain shooting through your ribs. Denise muttered an apology as she palpated your arm with her fingers. “Um. Okay. Daryl, I’m going to need you to hold her arm down while I—”

“Are you sure you know what you’re doing?” you teased Denise, a smirk on your face. She pulled a face at you, drawing a laugh which made you clutch at your ribs again and mutter a pitiful “ow.”

“Do you know you’re my least favorite patient?” she retorted jokingly. “Daryl. Come on.” Pete stepped forward, clearly annoyed.

“Are you sure you don’t want an actual--”

You cut him off. “Last I checked, Denise went to fucking med school. And for the last time you aren’t touching me.” Pete muttered something and backed off but he remained nearby watching.

“Ya ready?” Daryl rumbled, his strong hands firmly pressing your arm down against the table.

You nodded and focused on his blue eyes. “Sure…” you said, your voice coming out a little high with nerves and apprehension at the anticipated pain.

Denise didn’t give you a countdown or anything. She just forced the bone back into place. “MOTHERFUCKER!” you yelled, shooting upright on the exam table as soon as Daryl’s hands lifted off your arm. It felt like someone had rammed a red-hot poker into your arm. “Mmmm,” you groaned, squeezing your eyes shut and forcing breaths in and out.

“Done! Done!” Denise said. “See! Not so bad!”

You let out another sardonic laugh. “Easy for you to say.” She immediately fitted you with a stiff brace and instructions to limit use of your wrist and hand for four to six weeks.

“Six weeks,” you repeated. “Are you frickin’ kidding me?” You stared at her, incredulous.

“It’s a broken bone, Y/N, not a bumped elbow,” Denise said as she adjusted the brace.

You looked at the archer beside you for assistance but found none. “Six weeks?” you repeated again. You scoffed. “I’m going to lose my freakin’ mind in here. I can’t—I can’t shoot. I can’t go outside the walls… I can’t even write. It’s my dominant hand.” You let out a frustrated growl. “I might as well be a frickin’ baby,” you growled.

“Kinda are bein’ one right now,” Daryl rumbled. Your eyes snapped over to him and you managed to catch the quick twitch of the corner of his mouth in a rare smirk.

You shot him an unamused look. “I don’t know why you’re so entertained, chuckles. You’re benched too.”

Daryl rolled his eyes. “Whatever. Ya heard her, though. Four to six weeks.” You read genuine concern on his face and sighed.

“Yeah, yeah… I heard her,” you mumbled.

Denise laughed. “Alright. I see your neck… Nothing we can do about that,” she said with a wince. “God. That looks painful.”

You pressed your uninjured hand to it, reflexively covering it up as you felt Daryl’s eyes hitch on the bruises and stay there. “It’s not too bad.”

“Okay, anything else?” Denise asked.

You hesitated for a moment. Daryl didn’t know just how bad your side was and you weren’t real keen on him seeing the extent of the injury from the man kicking you. “Umm… Yeah. Uhh—I think I have some broken ribs maybe and—” you gulped, but you grabbed the hem of your shirt and lifted it so Denise could see your side.

Daryl immediately stiffened in anger as he saw the extent of the black and purple bruising all up your side. He actually let out what sounded like a low growl before averting his eyes. You noticed his hands clenching and unclenching into fists and he was suddenly restless.

“Oh my God… I’m so sorry this happened to you,” Denise said, her eyes flickering up to yours. She gently palpated your side. “I don’t feel anything concerning beyond the bruising and normal swelling—how did this happen?” she asked you quietly.

You were about to answer when there was suddenly a commotion as Daryl strode over to Pete and pushed him hard in the chest, making him stagger backwards. “Hey!” Daryl roared, posturing toward the surgeon. “What the hell are ya lookin’ at?” You and Denise stared at the two men in confusion and surprise. “We don’ need ya, so why don’ ya just get the hell outta here,” Daryl rumbled, flicking a hand in the direction of the door.

For a moment, Pete looked like he was considering hitting Daryl but he finally just clenched his jaw and left the clinic, slamming the door unnecessarily hard behind him.

Daryl turned to see you and Denise staring at him in confusion. He paced a little uncomfortably. “He was—I didn’t like how he was lookin’ at ya,” Daryl finally spat out.

You felt your cheeks color and averted your eyes from the archer. Apparently when you had lifted your shirt, revealing the bare skin from your waistband to the strap of your bra Pete’s eyes had been a little too hungry, a little too searching, and had lingered a little too long for Daryl’s taste.

You didn’t know what to say. The air in the room was thick and heavy with tension. Denise finally cleared her throat a little awkwardly and broke it. “Okay, I’m serious about the wrist. I’m going to give you some heavy-duty painkillers and anti-inflammatory meds to take for the next five days. If you feel any changes in your side or abdomen you come get me, okay? I’m serious.”

You nodded and Daryl rushed over to help you climb down on the table, hardly noticing the ache in his ankle anymore. You felt another flush in your cheeks as he gently gripped your elbow. “Thanks, Denise.”

She nodded. “Daryl, you’re sure you don’t need me to look at that ankle?”

He shook his head. “Nah. ‘M good. Just gonna get Y/N home so she can rest.”

“You too,” Denise said, pointing vehemently at him.

You walked, or hobbled more like, the distance back to your house with Daryl in silence. It still felt a little heavy, a little uneasy, like the air was holding things unsaid, but finally you climbed the steps and to the front door. You gave him a small smile, but there was something like apprehension in your eyes as you thanked him for all his help. “You know, I’ve known you only a short while and I think you have now officially saved my ass and patched me up more than anyone,” you muttered.

“Yeah, well…” he shrugged. “I think it’s about the same in reverse.” Daryl left with a hollow feeling in his chest as the heavy clunk of the deadbolt secured your door behind you.

Carol was waiting on the front porch and immediately grabbed him into a tight hug. “You scared us,” she said, holding him back to take him in, her eyes searching for injury. “Rosita told us you were back but nothing else. Are you okay?”

“’M Fine. Better than, Y/N,” he said, nudging his head toward your house across the street.

Carol’s brow furrowed. “What happened? Is she alright?”

“Mmm,” Daryl hummed, a noise meaning he didn’t want to talk about it. He dug in his pocket for a cigarette and allowed Carol to gently push his hair out of his face and clasp his shoulder, before he stiffened and moved away to sit on the steps. She knew that meant he wanted to be alone, wanted time to think.

“I’m glad you’re both back and at least mostly in one piece. We’ll be inside if you need anything.”

“Thanks,” the archer murmured. Daryl sat there most of the night, smoking the cigarettes he had left and staring at your dark house, wondering if you were awake like he was.

You were.

The next day, Daryl found Rick in the kitchen in the afternoon. He’d already explained what had transpired outside the walls, why you had both been so delayed. Rick had listened carefully and firmly grasped his shoulder, telling him how relieved he was that Daryl was back safe and that you were too. His words seemed a little pointed, but Daryl shied away from it. But now, after being unable to think of anything else all day, he had a question to ask Rick.

“Hey,” Daryl said, finding Rick in the kitchen, trying to convince Judith to eat something as she squirmed in his arms.

“Hey, Daryl. What is it?” Rick perceived something in the archer’s expression as soon as he glanced up at him.

Daryl scruffed a hand awkwardly through his hair. “Y/N’s interview. With Deanna, when Aaron first brought her in. Did ya watch it?”

Rick nodded, his face falling. “Yeah… I did. I think I watched just about everybody’s.”

Daryl shifted his body weight anxiously from one foot to the other and crossed his arms over his chest, trying to hide the vulnerability he felt while showing such obvious interest in you and your story. “Well… what—what was on it?”

Rick sighed, finally giving up on coaxing Judith to eat, and set her down on the floor on a blanket. He stood and hung his thumbs in his pockets, staring down at his boots for a moment. “You want to watch it?” he asked the archer, glancing up to take in his expression.

Daryl shrugged and let out a non-committal hum.

Rick studied his friend’s expression. “Whatever you’re lookin’ for… Whatever answer… It isn’t on there. But you can watch it if you want,” Rick offered. “Ya saw somethin’ out there that has you worried. I can see that. You can tell me if you want to, but I also understand if you don’t. Y/N is… private… about whatever happened to her before this, before here.”

Daryl swallowed at the tightness in his throat and considered Rick’s words. He chewed his bottom lip thoughtfully, his face dark. “I ain’t worried about us,” he clarified. “I ain’t worried about Alexandria.”

Rick nodded. “Just about her.”

Daryl shrugged and avoided the look in Rick’s eyes, which was something surprised but knowing. “We’ll do our best to keep her safe,” Rick said.

Daryl nodded and this time when he glanced up at his friend there was a fire in his blue eyes, a fierceness. “Ya. We will.”

#daryl dixon fanfiction #daryl dixon twd #the walking dead #twd fanfics #daryl dixon drabbles #daryl imagines #daryl dixon x reader #fanfics #writers of tumblr #twd drabbles #daryl dixon series

532 notes · View notes

dilucbabe · 3 years

Text

filthy

pairing: overhaul x fem!reader rating: m themes: priest kink, dubcon/noncon, emotional manipulation, spit kink, explicit sexual content, degradation, misogyny word count: 1.75k ao3 - request

His gloved fingers glide over your own, a smile adorning his lips. Funny, how such a simple gesture can mean so much to someone like Kai. It’s obviously no secret how uncomfortable he is with people showing their entitlement in thinking they’re allowed to come near his vicinity - to rub their filthy hands over him as if he merely stood on display. But it wasn’t just about the audacity that they showed with their thoughtless actions, far more, it was about the control that they took from him.

Kai is a man of action, a man of God. Someone who shows action and takes fate into his own hand, pulling it if needed. Not someone who lets things happen to him. He isn’t weak like that and he’d rather die than become so pathetic. His mission in life is to shield the weak ones from temptation and sin, to guide them to the right path, even if it means becoming forceful. Some might call him cruel, but truth be told, the perception of others is as important as the non-existent dirt under his fingernails. The only thing that truly matters that he obeyed the Allmighty, the church.

“Father?”, your voice is laced with sleep, eyes not yet open and Kai feels his heart stir at the sight alone. “Hmm, did something happen?” The innocence in the statement alone feels like pure gasoline to the flame that is his desire for you. Funny, how such a simple gesture can drive a man like Kai Chisaki to the brink of madness.

You’d come to the monastery on a rainy night, wet hair clinging to your frightened little face as you begged with utmost sincerity, “Please, father. I have nowhere to go. I- I need your guidance.”

You had practically breathed your plea, hands desperately clawing at your coat, the wet fabric doing nothing to shield you from the cold. If he were a different man, he would have felt his demeanour melt away, but he had remained strong. “Guidance, child?”

You cast your gaze away from him, shame bringing a pretty glow to your cheeks. “I’m a horrible woman. I-“, your bottom lip quivered, looking up at you with such over the top sorrow, it almost seemed comical. Almost. “I have seduced men without meaning to. I really didn’t, you have to believe me! Satan himself must reside within me!”

“First and foremost”, he had remained firm in his stance, albeit a bit more tense, though he couldn’t quite tell why. “There is nothing I have to do, aside from serving our Lord in Heaven. Not aid you, nor believe you.”

A high pitched squeal slipped past your chapped lips, clasping your hand over your mouth as though you had spoken out of turn. “I- Please-!”

“Still, you are in luck that God wouldn’t let me permit to turn my back on a poor sinner, so accepting of their own sins.”

It was, for the lack of a better word for it, thrilling to hear you beg like that, he remembers. It still is. Desperation and fear for condemnation – for punishment – has always been a big motivator for Kai. Instilling fear of what is good and righteous had always seemed like his one true calling, planting a seed of shame and guilt within people’s minds, to infest it and exorcise all evil from their very souls. A most gratifying experience he thanks the Lord every night in prayer.

Yet when it comes to you, he feels something stir inside of him. Maybe it is something akin to excitement, maybe it was hunger, maybe mere curiosity. Whatever it may be, he knows that it can only mean evil. What else could it be? You yourself have admitted upon being corrupted by the Devil, so he is but a man standing in the face of corruption.

Kai feels his pulse quicken, your legs spread open as though you are simply begging for him to be defiled by you. And who knows? Maybe you are. It wouldn’t be the first time, he’d caught your eyes taking his form with heaving bosom and wide eyes. Revolting slut that you are.

“Father?” He can see you trembling and he can feel himself swell with something akin to pride.

A cold smile that doesn’t quite reach his eyes, tugs at the corners of his lips, his hands now on your thighs, holding them in place. Even through his gloves, he can tell how warm you are to the touch – a temptation, if there ever was one. Though you might look the innocent maiden, he can see for what you truly are and maybe his purpose was to punish you for it, to set you right. Indeed, filling your hole with his seed might even cleanse you from all the filth of your very core.

God is on his side, he’s certain of it. He’d forgive his obedient servant’s sin if it meant saving a soul from the eternal flames of Satan. There simply is no other way.

Your eyes widen, any trace of exhaustion wiped clean from your face. “Please, no… I don’t want to-“

“Hush”, his fingers dig deep into your flesh, the promise of bruises blooming on your skin, making his cock stir. “You know that lying is a sin, don’t you? Let alone to a man of faith.”

Tears threaten to spill down your cheeks at any moment, hands desperately clawing at the covers Kai’s sitting on, trying to cover yourself, to no avail. “P- Please…”

“I didn’t ask you to beg. I asked you a question and I expect an answer.” He’s wedging himself between your legs now, knees pressing them apart, while his hands easily get a hold of your wrists, holding them in place. How come your words express such dread, when your body is so easy – so willing – to get overpowered by him? Even if you don’t quite realize it yourself, your mind is clouded with lies and sin. “Let’s try this again”, he pauses. “You’re aware that lying to a man of faith in considered a sin, yes?”

A slow nod. “Yes, father.”

“And although you should know better, you still actively choose to disobey the word from our Lord, yes?”

“It’s not a lie!” Even though your whole body is violently trembling with pitiful sobs, Kai can’t quite help it, but be in awe of your form. You make such a perfect victim, he’s sure, any artist would compare you to the likes of Mary and Joan d’Arc – suffering for the greater good. Although, of course, he knows you better than to fall prey to your manipulation.

Pressing your balled up fists against his cock, he snarls in pure disdain, “Don’t play coy with me. Do you think I’m blind to your lust? Do you think yourself a victim to the attention of men you so desperately seek out?”

You flinch upon contact, though Kai notes, how you momentarily halt your wails, a faint squeal escaping you. He wonders, is that still part of the act that you’re trying to keep up or if you’re rightfully in stunned at the size of him. He grows harder just thinking about burying himself to the hilt inside your vile cunt. “N- no! Father, I never meant to- to-“

“For me to notice?”, he snaps and by the shock written all across your features he knows that he’s right. “You perverted whore.”

“It was never my intention to seduce you! I’m not lying! I swear, the Lord is my witness, I-“

Thwack. The sting on your cheek is relentless, but it’s a necessary evil. You have to learn how to behave, that there are consequences to your misdeeds, even if he has to beat it into you. “How dare you use the Lord’s name to spout all this nonsense”, it’s no question, but a statement. “I have no patience for whores with silver tongues.”

Kai leans over you, holding your wrists over your head, relishing in the sight of you being completely at his mercy. Your meek hiccups did nothing but spur him on even further, solidifying his decision in cleansing you free. “I’m so- sorry. You were so kind to me and took me under your wing when I needed help and- and I just…”

You squirm under his ever so watchful eyes. “Filthy thing”, his fingers enclose around your jaw, fingers forcing your lips to pucker open and spits. “To think giving you shelter would be enough was foolish of me, but we know better now, don’t we? You’re in need of drastic measures and it is me who has to whip you into shape. But fear not, I will not falter to bring you to the light side. I’ll fuck the virtue into you if I need to.”

It all happens so fast, you can barely keep up. One moment he hikes up the skirt of your frilly, little nightgown, chilly air hitting your exposed skin, the next he’s pumping his leaking cock right in front of your pussy lips. You try with all your strength – which admittedly, isn’t a lot – to get away from him, but he’s a strong man. And you should already know, shouldn’t you? Haven’t you spent night and night again, admiring his physique when he so graciously read the bible for you? Haven’t you fantasized about those very arms holding your naked body against his as he’d plunge into you in rapid speed? He’s right, you muse, you’re nothing but a common slut.

“God forgive me”, he groans and gets to work.

Funny, how such innocent glances can lead to such thorough punishment. Or was it redemption at last? You can’t tell anymore – too lost in the feelings of his palm, striking your thighs, face, tits; his hips clashing into your own with such force, it’s hard not to wince from pain; his stern look casting down at you and promising both salvation and damnation. Filthy thing, you repeat in your head, filthy, filthy, filthy. You should be grateful a man of God deems you worthy of his attention, let alone his cock.

Your insides are burning and your lungs feel like they might give out any minute, too exhausted from all the sobbing and crying, but Kai stays relentless. “Father, please”, you plead.

His response is sinister, but you know, a filthy thing like you deserves it. “Patience is a virtue”, he pants. “But what would you know about virtue?”

And he’s right.

#bnha smut #mha smut #overhaul x reader #kai chisaki x reader #dark fic

86 notes · View notes

feelin-woozy · 3 years

Text

Title: With Teeth

Word Count: 1,808

Pairing: Bo Sinclair / Reader

Warnings: Gender-neutral reader

[ Ao3 Link | Next ]

1977

You were a stubborn child. If there was trouble to be found, it was probable that you had a hand in either creating it or seeking it out. Bo Sinclair wasn’t an exception to this. Bo was the kind of child that parents ushered their young away from, voices dropping to a quiet hush as they told them, ‘no, you can’t play with him.’ The warnings never stopped you.

You never really knew why, only ever hearing fragments of conversations of adults around you. They spoke with contempt dripping from each word as they detailed how he was trouble, how he would be a bad influence, and why couldn’t he be more like his brother? But you didn’t mind. You liked trouble, and besides, you weren’t afraid of Bo like all the other kids were. Even with all his jagged edges and mean looks, you didn’t know any better because to you, he was just Bo.

Even when he pushed you to the ground, blue eyes shining with that mean look and something you think was amusement as your own eyes welled with tears and your freshly scraped knees stung. You weren’t afraid. You didn’t stop playing with him even when he stuck gum in your hair, and your mother had to cut it out. But you remember her scolding you, speaking in that same voice you heard other adults speak in, telling you that ‘There’s something wicked about that boy.’

For every time he pushed you down, there would be a time that you stuck your foot out as he ran by. While those mean blue eyes never glistened with tears, the shock was apparent as he dusted the dirt off himself and pulled himself together. And then there was the time you put glue on his seat during class. No one knew it was you, but Bo never put gum in your hair again after that.

1986

Things didn’t change all that much as you got older. Bo was still a boy with jagged edges that, if you weren’t careful with, they’d cut you to the bone. But he didn’t push you to the ground anymore or try to stick gum in your hair like when you were kids. It didn’t mean that he was any less aggressive than when you were kids; if anything, it has crossed the threshold from aggressive to violent. It wasn’t directed at you anymore though, it had shifted to those around you. After all, you were the only one not afraid to clean the drying blood that caked his freshly split lip or to tend to purples and greens that would bloom over knuckles. Save for his brothers, but even then, sometimes they didn’t fare so well either.

A warm breeze rustles the trees as rays of sunshine peek through the thick canopy of leaves overhead. The July heat was unrelenting. It didn’t matter where you were in Ambrose; you always felt like you were melting. Still, Bo didn’t forgo his long sleeve button down. You didn’t blame him, nor did you comment on it. Some things were just better left unsaid. At least away from the town and deep in the forest, the two of you could forget about what happened within the sleepy town, even for half a day.

Bo winces as you dab gently at the wound on his lip, but he doesn’t draw back or pitch a fit. He sits there in silence, watching you carefully as if expecting you to salt the wound. You don’t. You know better than to make a scene of this. This, whatever this was, was a part of Bo, and you had come to accept that. Though you’d be lying if you hadn’t thought about leaning in and pressing your lips to his, trying to chase the thoughts of what he might taste like. You quickly shake the thought away, it was unwise to linger on such a thought.

You drawback and toss the rust-stained napkin to the ground before getting to your feet. Bo watches as you move away, moving towards your beat up school bag where you grab two beers. Beads of icy sweat drip down from the bottle and onto your hands; it’s the only reprieve you have in the hot Louisiana heat.

When you turn to face Bo again, he’s leaning back against the thick tree trunk, shadows dancing over his face. You move towards him, twigs snapping below your step as you hand him the bottles without a word, and he works quickly, using his lighter to open each bottle. The cap flies off with a hiss, joining the other caps that decorate the forest floor. Some from you two and some from other teens who took sanctuary within the forest as well.

“Your pa’s gunna notice one day.” He points out, handing you the bottle before opening his own.

“If he hasn’t noticed already, he deserves to have his beer stolen.” You flash him a lopsided smile as you take a seat next to him before you raise the bottle to your lips and take a sip.

For a moment, things feel okay. As if you hadn’t just been patching him back together, as if the cruel words people threw his way didn’t hang over his head like a dark storm cloud. He pretended they didn’t sting, but you knew that they did. Because even if he wasn’t violent towards you, that didn’t mean you didn’t still fall victim to the darkness that festered within him. Sometimes it was as small as throwing the keys to dad's beat-up truck into the tall grass, leaving you to comb the fields for hours before you’d find them. He spat cruel words at you other times, leaving tears to prickle at your waterline, but you never dared cry like when you were kids.

You still didn’t mind. Your penchant for trouble hadn’t changed, and God, if Bo wasn’t the exact brand of trouble that you craved. He made you feel alive within this sleepy little town; he brought excitement to your days even when it made your mother cry. Perhaps it was naive. You knew now why parents warned their kids of Bo growing up. You could see what they saw; you were stupid, not blind. Still, Bo was just Bo, and sure he had those mean blue eyes and sharp edges, but in the time you had grown, you too had accumulated your own edges. You don’t think it was possible to be friends with Bo without being damaged yourself in some form or another.

“Bo?” The name feels heavy in your mouth, as though it was a knife sliding through a priceless piece of art. The dread you felt building in your stomach felt similar.

“Hm?” He doesn’t look at you, just lights a cigarette and passes it over before he lights his own. The action makes guilt bloom alongside the dread, the emotions weaving together to create something ugly that makes bile rise in your throat.

“I have to leave Ambrose.” You take a drag off your cigarette, letting the smoke burn your lungs as the taste of nicotine mixed with bile. You don’t look at him to see his reaction. You can’t bring yourself to. But you feel the way his body stiffens, and you hear the soft sound of the cigarette burning as he takes a drag that burns the cigarette half way.

“Oh.” Is all he says, exhaling the word along with a thick cloud of smoke that billows up and disperses amongst the branches and leaves.

“Dads got a new job in the city.” You explain though you’re not sure why. You don’t know if Bo wants to hear what you have to say or if he’d rather blow his lid over something that was beyond your control. You wouldn’t blame him if he did. If it was him leaving, you’re sure a part of you would wither away. You dare a glance over at him, watching the way his jaw clenches and how he stares off through a break in the trees. “I don’t want to go.”

“Yeah? Then don’t.” A part of him sounds serious, almost hopeful, but it sounds too distant and bitter for you to put any stock into it.

“You know it’s not that easy.” Your hands feel clammy against the chilled bottle in your hand. You take a drink, emptying half the bottle in a few swallows just to distract yourself. To try and fight whatever ugly feelings were clawing at your insides.

“Sure it is, stay with me.” Bo flicks ash off the end of his cigarette before he turns his head just enough to look at you from the corner of his eye. “Ma fuckin’ loves you.”

You can’t help but snort at that, rolling your eyes. “Bo, your mom hates me.”

“Yeah, she does.” Bo chuckles softly, but the mirth is gone as quick as it came, and that distant look rolls over his face again. He gets to his feet, turning to look down at you with an unreadable expression. “But when has that ever stopped you from sneakin’ into my room?”

“I’ll come back, I promise.”

“I wouldn’t bother.” The way he looks at you as those words leave his lips, it makes you feel like a kid again. You stare up at him, and something inside you aches. It hurts worse than the times he caused you to scrape your knees against the dirt roads or the times he kicked you out of his truck and made you walk ten miles back into Ambrose in the pouring rain.

He doesn’t sneer at you, and he doesn’t even yell, just stares at you with that mean look before turning on his heels. You watch him go, watch the way he drains the rest of his beer, and you listen to the sound of twigs breaking beneath his heavy step. When he’s a fair distance away, you watch the way he tosses the bottle hard against a tree. The sound of glass shattering fills the air alongside the sound of birds taking startled flight.

_____

Bo doesn’t see you off when you’re leaving Ambrose. You hadn’t expected him to though, he had been avoiding you since you broke the news to him. It wasn’t as if you could really blame him. It was probably better this way. It was less volatile to cut out the catalyst than to continue to expose yourself to it. Still, you knew that he was around. The boy down the block with shaggy blonde hair was sporting a fresh black eye, and you had heard your mother's hushed whispers as she gabbed with the neighbors about him. But even if you hadn’t been expecting him, it still hurts you never got to say goodbye.

[ Next ]

#House of wax #bo sinclair #bo sinclair x you #bo sinclair x reader #house of wax 2005 #Slasher x you #slasher x reader #my writing #the friend who beta'd this said this was some of my bestwork and im emo over that

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asmo-ds · 3 years

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Hi, I really love your content which leads me to request a Satan soulmate fluff wherein Satan's internal voice is MC's voice and vice versa. So, when MC got summoned in Devildom, the moment they heard each other's voices, they already knew that they are meant for each other. I apologize if it's a bit confusing. 😔 Lastly, have a nice day and stay healthy! 🌺

Your Soulmate’s Voice

Lil bit of angst, but mostly Fluff :)

A/N: I know you said fluff but my small brain started typing and completely forgot the genre and made the first half of this v angsty because Satan is such deep character it felt wrong to just have him immediately accept MC as his soulmate without an inner battle, so the fluff is more towards the last half of the fic. Also ily thank u for requesting <3

Description: A soulmate AU where your inner voice is your soulmate’s outer voice. Satan and MC have lived hearing each other’s voices for as long as they can remember, which is why they immediately recognize each other when MC is suddenly summoned to the Devildom

How, he often asked out loud, late at night when he ran out of books to read and was left to his own devices. How does a malicious, angry, demon like me have a soulmate with such an angelic voice?

Since he had been born from the wrath of his eldest brother, he had been hearing this voice that spoke his thoughts to him. Why can’t I just hear my own voice, why do I have to hear someone else?

Lucifer had explained to him that the voice was his soulmate and one day he’d hear the voice through his ears rather than just in his head. That made Satan feel giddy, as a young child who couldn’t wait for the future.

Over the years, he began to feel guilty as the voice remained kind and careful, and his only grew angrier and rougher. He worried he’d hurt his soulmate with his wrath and he began to avoid going out, he didn’t want to hurt the voice’s owner like he’d hurt so many others. He didn’t want to have to see fear in their eyes whenever he’d lose his temper or even look at them with resting bitch face. So he decided he was best off just hearing it in his head for the rest of his immortal life.

He read and read day and night, drinking in their speech patterns, from the soft graceful syllables to the occasional voice cracks, he relished in every word that wanders through his mind, not because of what it said but because he knew the voice saying them was the only person who would ever embrace him, wrath and all.

--------------------------

MC had always been a bit of a daydreamer, they’d known since they were quite young about soulmates and the voice in their head.

They daydreamed about marriage, about the future, about who their soulmate could be and how they’d meet.

The voice was innocent enough at first, but then it matured and it became deeper and more rough. It failed to change the way MC thought of him though. They fell in love with his voice as a kid and they promised to love it for the rest of their life.

As their friends grew and found their own soulmates, MC began to grow nervous. Perhaps whatever greater power controlled the events of their life had decided to single MC out and play a cruel joke of never letting them meet their soulmate, no matter how far they looked.

They were constantly told “You’ll find him” or “If you hear his voice he’s gotta be somewhere on Earth, you’re bound to find each other eventually.”

But nothing anyone say could have prepared them for this. For the day they arrived in Hell and heard the familiar voice speak up,

“Hmph. At least he didn’t ignore you altogether. How do you think I feel?” The blond owner of said voice responded to Asmodeus’s whining about the way Lucifer introduced him.

MC had yet to speak. They couldn’t bring themselves to, not trusting their own voice. They attempted to after a few moments only to let out a tiny squeak, audible to nobody but themselves.

Satan suddenly noticed their gaping mouth and tilted his head, “is there something wrong? I hope Lucifer here did not scare you, he is a pretty cruel man,” he smirked, knowing he was getting under Lucifer's skin with every condescending word that slipped past his lips. Hearing the voice speak AND seeing lips move in sync with the words was surreal.

‘‘Satan!” the raven haired man scolded. Satan. Their soulmate was Satan. All they could do was stare in his eyes, scared to speak up, scared of how he’d react to finding out his soulmate was but a mere human with a plain boring life. If the universe was going to pick a human for Satan himself, why would they chose them? Why someone so boring when there were royals in the human realm who would much better fit the role of a demon lord’s bride.

Suddenly their cheeks felt wet, and as they blinked their vision blurred with salty tears that ran down their cheeks. Happy tears, of course, but all the noble demon men that were surrounding them had no idea what had made them cry, leading to a panicked look between the prince and his right hand man, who seemed to them glare daggers to Satan for making the exchange student cry within the first fifteen minutes of their arrival.

Satan smiled a bit, angering Lucifer is what he does best and he’s proud of himself for making the lousy human cry so easily. He saw them close their eyes and take a deep breath, ready to finally speak up.

“Hi,” they started, opening an eye to watch as his widened, “I’m MC, it is an honor to meet you Satan, I-” they were cut off by the door slamming. They looked up and the blond was gone, everyone else staring at the door in shock.

“Well, I hoped that would go much better,” Diavolo said to Barbatos, who gave a sad nod in return.

“I apologize MC I do not know what got into him, he can be moody and I wouldn’t worry about him so much while you’re here,” Lucifer bowed as an apology to the human, humiliated by his brother’s lack of composure.

“Lucifer... I meant to mention this to you sooner, but I thought perhaps this would reveal their connection,” Diavolo started. “When I was looking at their file I noticed that the universe had assigned them a demon soulmate, curious I dug further and found it was Satan, which is why I gave them spot in our exchange program.”

As the men conversed, truths being revealed and shock evident on some of the others’ faces, MC stood staring at the door.

I guess he really is humiliated to know his soulmate is an average human, they thought, I shouldn’t be so surprised I suppose.

They began to walk, none of the others taking notice as they left the room, too focused on Diavolo who was explaining the circumstances.

They walked and kept walking, ignoring the demons who were watching them in awe, a stray human brave enough to walk through the Devildom on their own.

But MC didn’t care. Their heart was broken and they didn’t care. They had waited so long to meet someone who would love them. They remained hopeful because of the voice in their head, reminding them their was someone out there that would love them and all their flaws.

“Well, aren’t you brave?” A strange demon asks, snapping MC out of their thoughts and causing the reality and fear of their location to set in. “A little human shouldn’t be walking around alone like this, especially looking so yummy,” he continues licking his lips as his eyes scan MC head to toe like they were a feast.

“I’m feeling a bit hungry, I’m sure you won’t mind me having a bite-” he reaches his clawed hands towards MC’s arm, but a stronger one with green claws pulls MC away and against their body, his other one having a vice grip on the creepy demon.

“Lay a finger on my human and I won’t hesitate to gut you and display your mutilated body to the whole Devildom,” the familiar voice said, leading MC to feel more relaxed in his grip, despite his violent words.

“A-ah my lord I’m so sorry! I had no idea this human belonged to you, please forgive me, I swear I’ll never even breathe in their direction again,” the lesser demon cowered, sinking to his knees, begging to be spared from the cruel fate Satan had promised him.

Without a word, Satan turned, tossing MC over his shoulder, ignoring their protests as he returned the house of lamentation with them.

He passes their room and goes straight to his, placing them gently on his bed.

“Satan I-” MC is interrupted by strong arms enveloping them in a warm comforting embrace.

“I can’t believe I’ve had you for an hour and already almost got you killed,” he sighs, burying his face in their hair, tears forming out of frustration.

MC suddenly pulls away from him, standing up in and walking towards the door, “Let’s start over,” they say before entering the hallway and closing the door behind them.

Confused Satan sits and stares at the door. He hears MC politely knock so he gets up to answer it.

When he opens the door he is greeted by a smiling human, “Hi! I’m MC I’m the new exchange student at RAD and will be living with you for a year! I hope we can get along in that time! Oh by the way I’m also your soulmate haha,” they laugh throughout trying to introduce themselves.

“Oh my Diavolo you are so cheesy,” Satan is barely able to contain his laughter as he pulls them into his room, twirling them around in a tight embrace, taking in their warmth and sighing happily.

“All jokes aside,” they quietly whisper as Satan sits back down with them still in his hold, “Why did you run? Is it because I’m a normal human and not special like you were probably expecting? If it is I’m sorry and I really do understand if you want me to leave you alone. I mean your one of the most powerful demons ever and I’m just... I’m just me!” MC looks down at their hands, which Satan now held in his own.

“I didn’t want to hurt you. I’m the embodiment of wrath and all my life I’ve been afraid knowing that such a sweet and gentle voice could be ruined because of my temper.”

“Satan...” they put a hand on his cheek, guiding his gaze back to their own. They open their mouth to speak but nothing comes out, so they opt to show what they’re thinking physically instead.

Their soft lips land on his own slightly chapped ones, a soft chaste kiss that leaves both parties with wide smiles.

“I’m so happy to have you in our home dear exchange student,” he chuckles before leaning into another kiss, more passionate and filled with love than the last.

Knowing they trusted him not to hurt them gave him the confidence he needed and he couldn’t be more thankful.

#obey me fluff #obey me fluff hc #obey me satan #obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me luficer #obey me imagine #obey me imagines #soulmate au #obey me: one master to rule them all #satan om #satan obey me

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sparks-joy-imagines · 3 years

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Hello admins, hope you're having a great day ! I just read your rules and I didn't quite understand the asking process, so I'll just shoot my shot and ask here if you don't mind ?

I have a request for a nsfw scenario with sabo (one piece) and fem!reader, in which he's jealous of new trainees checking her out while she shows them moves and she's clueless about it ? Maybe a little angst with it ? Nothing violent ofc

Thank you so much have a great day ❤

Hello there❤ Thank you so much for reading the rules, and sorry if they got you confused! Your request is perfectly fine, as is anything within our boundaries! I hope you can enjoy this scenario, it’s been a lot of fun to write uwu~ have a great day, too✨ - mesu.

Sabo x f!reader

warnings: not sfw, reader gets penetrated, unsafe intercourse (pls don’t do this), (gentle) choking

An aggravated sigh left his lips when the chief of staff finally stepped out of the meeting room. For the past couple hours all of the revolutionary army’s higher ups had discussed the most recent concerning developments in the world and by now all he wanted to do was to pull you close and call it a day.

Sabo started pacing the base’s grounds, checking the spots where he’d usually find you but with no luck. About to give up and just head back to his quarters without you, he vaguely recalled that you muttered something about the new recruits lacking basic hand to hand combat skills this morning. Turning on the spot, he headed over to the gym, yet stopped short right in front of the folding doors which lead to the training area.

“Thank you so much for your guidance, [Y/N]-chan!”

Since when exactly were the new recruits addressing you so casually?

“Yeah, this training session’s amazing… I’m afraid I still don’t really get the choke hold defence though. Mind showing us again?”

Then your voice.

“Always happy to help out! And sure thing, will you please resume position so I can show you how it’s done once again?” Sabo could hear the joyous bliss in your voice, but the tones of the new recruits struck him somewhat off.

When he turned the corner, he couldn’t quite believe his eyes. There you were, lying on the ground, knees cocked up while one of the new recruits was kneeling on top of you, legs grinding in your sides, his hands around your neck and feeling way too comfortable in this suggestive position; the other recruit who stood just a couple steps away leering at the scene unfolding in front of him while you were happily chatting away about the technique oblivious to the thoughts of your new comrades.

It had been long since Sabo felt such ferocious flames of fury gnawing at his stomach. He barely noticed how he entered the training grounds, taking long strides and only stopping to squat down to the recruit kneeling over you, his hand – almost distinctly resembling his trademark dragon claw – placed firmly on the guy’s shoulder.

“I’m sorry lads, but I’ll have to steal [Y/N] away now. I’m most confident that you guys are perfectly capable of figuring out how to escape the choke hold on your own from here on.”

Even though his tone was cheerful, the high intensity of his gaze and tightness of his grip on the recruit’s shoulder made it unmistakably clear that he was not tolerating any of their low-key harassment towards you. The second recruit took a step back, almost stumbling over his feet, “Of course, chief of staff, Sabo, sir..”. He shot his mate a look who didn’t dare move an inch whatsoever. You however didn’t notice anything about the shift in atmosphere and happily jumped on your feet when Sabo simply pulled the recruit up at his shoulder, not caring about the little squeal he made. “All finished up, Sabo?” You went to give Sabo a hug, eager to feel his arms around your frame but before you could get your hands on him he just grabbed you and flung you over his shoulder as if you weighed nothing more than a feather, making you squeak in surprise. “Gentlemen.”

You felt Sabo’s head move in greeting beside your frame but his voice was as cold as ice.

“Sabo?“ you inquired softly but were silenced by a light slap on your buttock from your boyfriend as he casually, yet swiftly, carried you off to his quarters. Soon you were thrown onto his bed and it’s mere seconds until he’s over you, kneeling in the same position you had just taught the new recruits to escape from earlier. Your breath caught in your throat when you met his dark gaze. There was something feral about the way he looked. You could feel his hands cup your cheeks hard, just so it wouldn’t hurt. “Do you have any idea what just happened in the gym, [Y/N]?” His voice was low, dangerously so, and you felt his grip loosen a little so you could shake your head in response, before clarifying, “Nothing out of the ordinary? I mean, they had trouble at hand to hand combat and I showed them how to get out of a choke hold and that’s–“

“And exactly how many times did you show them to get out of the choke hold? Them kneeling over you? Pinning you to the ground? Alternatively, you cradling them between your thighs?” By now, one of his hands had wandered to your neck, long fingers smoothly wrapping around your throat, the other starting to knead your breasts. You felt a shiver running down your spine as you muttered, “A couple..”. Sabo raised his brows and leaned down to you, his lips touching yours with every word he uttered. “And what exactly do you think they imagined doing to you when they were on top of you like this?” Your eyes finally widened in realisation when he rocked his hips against your core, a gasp escaping your lips. “I don’t know about you, but I will not tolerate any other man even thinking about what’s mine.” His fingers squeezed your neck, restricting your air flow just the right amount for you to start feeling everything ever so slightly more intense and you knew instantly you couldn’t escape this choke hold even if you tried to. Not that you actually wanted to.

You felt his free hand tugging and pulling away at your garments while the hand around your neck kept up the pressure. You didn’t dare to speak up but the more he touched you, the more lewd sounds of yours validated him and his actions.

Unsure of what to do with your hands you let them timidly roam up his thighs and felt his weight shift towards you when you reached his growing bulge, earning an expectant grunt.

Once Sabo got rid of your clothes, he didn’t hesitate to pull away and help you free his member from its containment. You felt his intense gaze back on you almost instantly, looking for any clue of resistance, but it was futile to find. The heat in your core was almost unbearable by now. “Sabo…mh.. just take me,” you whispered breathlessly when you felt his fingers at your slick pussy. “Oh I will,” Sabo muttered under his breath as he brought you into position and suddenly slid his entire length into you in one smooth motion, making you scream softly.

He gave you but a moment to adjust before he pulled out almost completely, prodding at your entrance as he caught your gaze, a cheeky smirk on his lips while his fingertips circled at your clit enhancing the sensation. “Why don’t we try to let them hear who you belong to?” Sabo smirked and pressed a single hard kiss on your lips before he finally let go of your neck just as he thrust into you again, building up a steady deep pace. You couldn’t help but suck in the newfound oxygen greedily just to moan out Sabo’s name seconds later, following his suggestion without any second thought. This man knew how he needed to fuck you into the sheets, and he knew it well.

It wasn’t long until he had you on the edge, one hand at your hips to ensure he hit the very point in you that made you see stars, the other massaging at your boobs.

Another thrust and you contracted around him screaming his name for the world to hear, pushing Sabo over the edge as well. He spread his sticky cum in you and continued to move for a couple more strides, allowing you to ride out your high.

Finally, Sabo pulled out of you carefully, rolling down from your form, a satisfied smile on his lips. He immediately pulled you in his arms and let you get comfortable on his chest. After a few moments of Sabo absentmindedly playing with your hair, you decided to break the silence, “Sorry for not realising what they were thinking….”. “It’s not your fault that some people don’t know any boundaries.” “Still..,” you sighed softly and peeked up to Sabo’s face, “You think they heard?”. A hearty chuckle escaped your lovers lips, “They better did.”

#sabo x reader #sabo #one piece x reader #one piece imagine #not sfw #one piece #text #mesu #request #requests are open #imagine

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whentherewerebicycles · 3 years

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wow okay i am skipping the lingerie party lol and am instead going to just briefly jot down some thoughts before i go to sleep and wake up at 5 for my flight tomorrow morning. jesus christ i have ONE MILLION thoughts and feelings about this weekend. i want to preface this by saying that on the whole, it was a fine social experience! it was nowhere near as awkward or painful as i was expecting. or like, parts of it were painful, but it was 100% to do with my own complicated feelings about literally every part of this tradition and the wedding industry in general lol, and not anything to do with the people themselves. the other women were friendly and very welcoming, i made an event best friend who was wonderful company, and it was really fun to get to spend time with both my sister-in-law and her older sister, who was so charming and wonderful. i’m glad i came even though thinking about the $$ i spent on this trip makes me physically gag.

but okay i want to just record some THOUGHTS that maybe i will continue unpacking with some distance. i feel likeeeee okay here are my thoughts.

the social norms around femininity are just a fucking minefield and i feel like i really just gotta keep walking back the impulse to judge other women for the choices they make as they navigate around the manifold traps and snares and half-buried landmines that constitute the landscape of being a woman. like jesus christ. it’s so fucked up, it’s so fucked up, the received and socially enforced norms of femininity are just so fucked up. I think ALL THE FUCKING TIME of this margaret atwood poem i love so much, which was REALLY on my mind this weekend:

How can I teach her some way of being human that won’t destroy her?

I would like to tell her, Love is enough, I would like to say, Find shelter in another skin.

I would like to say, Dance and be happy. Instead I will say in my crone’s voice, Be ruthless when you have to, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it.

I feel like the first bit was very much on my mind throughout the weekend, but those last three lines have come to the forefront over the course of this last day, as i have tried to do some Thinking about what i observed/experienced/felt this weekend. whether or not this is what it means in the context of the poem, tell the truth when you can, when you can see it, expresses something of my complex feelings: I don’t know that I can tell the truth about femininity because I don’t know that I can see it. i am both too close to it/still emotionally entangled in it and too far from it to know which parts of it are ‘real’ and which parts are just performance.

i feel like one thing that struck me this weekend, in ways that i don’t know if i’ve noticed as much before, was that so much of the things women say to each other or do in these social contexts is performative, and they know on some level it’s a performance, but we are all going through the motions of doing and saying the expected things anyway. that has not always been clear to me. i have spent so much of my own life as a woman thinking that other women perfectly, seamlessly, naturally embodied the norms of femininity, and i was the only one (or part of a group of only ones) who couldn’t remember my lines, or kept fumbling my cues, or felt so painfully, self-consciously aware that i was playing a role that i could never deliver a convincing performance. but this weekend, after the initial social panic had passed, i started trying to get out of my own head a little bit and look for things that disproved the very strong theory i had brought into the weekend. and of course then i started seeing more and more of the little moments where women say one thing and do another, or profess one belief/conviction but then the whole corpus of their lived experiences and choices contradicts that stated belief, or whatever. and also just like, moments of pathos, where someone i had judged harshly at the beginning of the weekend offhandedly revealed something about her past that really changed my perception of her, or at least made me think like, ah god, i have to have empathy for and with this person, because i think she might be a complex person just like me, with an intricate inner life that her performance partially reveals and partially occludes from view, and agh, it sucks to have to think of people as complicated instead of as safely two-dimensional & easy to dismiss, and the reason it sucks is because then it forces you to realize that you share more with this person than you’d like to admit, and that some of your wounds are the same, even if you dealt with those wounds (the wounds of girlhood, or rather the emotional wounds that our culture inflicts upon girls, which then become tangled up in complex and painful ways with the lived experience of girlhood itself) in really different ways.

but also ugh. we are all performing gender norms but there is just something that does not feel playful at all about embodying conventional femininity. i can’t think of a better way to phrase that right now but it’s like.. the performance isn’t fun. it doesn’t seem to be fun. i don’t know that anyone here was having fun doing it, even if they were having fun being with each other. but it was like doing the intensely gendered social rituals was like, the price of admission? like it was the toll we had to pay to be together spending time in the company of other women? i don’t know man but it fucking exhausts me. like i can push myself to stretch my genuine empathy and sense of solidarity with other women much further than my knee-jerk judgmental reaction, but i can’t ever get to a place where i find any of those social rituals anything other than fucking exhausting. they feel so fucking joyless. they feel like things that many women have internalized as ‘things we must do in order to have relationships with other women.’ (please do not even get me started on how exhausting heteronormativity is i think i could write an entire other essay on how women use these bachelorette party-type rituals to spend time with their closest female friends, but the whole event is still implicitly organized around men, and these women’s male partners are still positioned as the priority in their lives, and the whole event is framed as like, a last burst of intense closeness between women before the bride is delivered over to her husband. like i KNOW that this is not how women think of it but all the RHETORIC of the bachelorette party, the little events and rituals and games, the little comments everyone makes all fucking weekend, good fucking lord, my jaw is so TENSE.)

anyway god i just AGHHHH. idk sorry this is definitely not coherent at ALL because i’m tired and still need a bit more distance/time to process some of this. i guess here is one last thing i want to register before i sleep. i am in my 30s now and i am living a life that is so, so far removed from the social world i grew up in. marriage is not a norm among my friend group, almost all of my female friends are queer women, many women i know are not partnered and have no interest in being partnered, and the friends who are in heterosexual relationships tend to be in very gender-balanced relationships or slightly nontraditional relationships where it feels like both partners have engaged in conscious reflection about what they want their relationship to look/feel like. also i now date women, am out as a lesbian, and spend most of my time teaching/working with queer- and trans/nonbinary-identified kids.

so like, the world i live in now is just so different from the world i grew up in. and sometimes it is easy for me to kind of downplay the intensity of my own gender distress as a teen and young adult, or to sort of - act like it was a phase in my life that had much more to do with me than with the social environment i lived in. i don’t mean ‘phase’ in a dismissive ‘those feelings weren’t real’ kind way, but more like, ‘oh that was just part of the normal growing pains of figuring out who you are and what kind of person you want to be as an adult - everybody pretty much goes through some version of that.’ it’s true that everyone DOES go through some version of that, as just like, part of the process of individuation in that age range. but also like. idk man. being back in this environment - straight white women from the midwest and south, all engaging in the rituals of heterosexual white femininity - was just so intense and so MUCH, and it brought back a flood of feelings and visceral memories that i feel like i will need to spend some time sorting through over the next few weeks. like, what i experienced back then really WAS gender distress, and it was so, so distressing. i spent the years from age 11ish to 24ish existing with this constant lowgrade baseline feeling of wanting to claw my own fucking skin off because my own gendered body felt like such a prison, and i sometimes felt like i literally wanted to destroy my own body because i could not yet conceive of an alternative to inhabiting that body or playing the role that had been handed down to me. until i started reading queer memoirs and inhaling lesbian media and (especially) reading about queer femme identities, i literally did not have an image or any kind of felt sense of what another way of inhabiting my own body might look/feel like. i literally could not imagine it!!!

and that is why the distress feels so distressing, and becomes internalized in such violent ways, i think. because it’s the blind, mindless panic of a trapped and wounded animal. except that you lack any real understanding of the larger social forces at work, or any language with which to describe or conceptualize what social norms are or how they’re enforced. so in your mind, the only thing you can see wounding you is your own gendered body, or the way that gendered body is socially 'read’ by others. and that is why you want to claw your own fucking skin off, just literally dig your nails into your own flesh and claw it the fuck off. because you can’t see a norm, but you can see your gendered body, and you can see the ways that it causes other people to react to you, or treat you, or hold you to a certain set of expectations, and so in your mind you are like: this must be destroyed. in your mind you are like, the only way out is to get out of this fucking body, but that’s impossible, surely, you can’t get out of your own body, so you have to settle for starving it and self-harming it and ruthlessly punishing it in a thousand terrible ways, because you might not be able to leave your girl’s body behind, but you can make it suffer and pay for what it’s done to you.

i am old enough now, and have spent enough time thinking and writing about those feelings, to identify them when they arise again, and to get the necessary distance from them so that i can say, what i want to destroy are the norms themselves, and the distress they cause, and not the body that has done nothing to me but be me. so i am not quite as sucked under as i used to be. but i think that there is something about the violence and intensity of those feelings that i forget sometimes, or misremember with age and distance. it’s easy to be a little bit patronizing to my younger self (or by extension to my younger students sometimes), because i now live in a social world that is largely arranged in ways that minimize rather than intensify or amplify gender distress. but when you have no choice in how to arrange your life, and no language with which to understand what is happening to you or what you are experiencing, and no frame of reference to help you understand that this is a period in your life and not forever, and no models you can look to in order to discover alternative ways of inhabiting your body or arranging your life... my god, that’s quite different from being an adult with a wide range of experiences and with much greater autonomy over your own body and life. anyway idk i need to keep thinking but now i must go to bed and try to sleep five hours before the plane.

#how can i teach her some way of being human #that won't destroy her!!!#gender #mw #to think further #girls I have been

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sokka-simp · 3 years

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Hey I just found ur account and I luv ur writing!! 😍😍 I was wondering if u could write Bakugo x f reader who wants to play volleyball when they're older but is in the support class studying to be an engineer, and like they get rlly anxious and have an anxiety attack or smt that they're not gonna be able to play professionally but it's like all they want to do, sorry if this is rlly specific, pls don't feel obligated to do this, it's rlly self indulgent and specific so idm if u don't wanna write this. Hope u have a nice day! Please continue writing I love it.

Awwwww bby I’m so happy you like my work 🥺but yes I’ve gotchu 💕💕

It’s All I Want

Bakugo x fem Reader

Also u and Bakugo are dating because he wouldn’t comfort some random extra

Um idk comfort Ig 🤷‍♀️

Warnings: self depreciation, anxiety attack, cussing

You watched in awe as your favorite female volleyball player soared through the air before spiking the ball—too quick and powerful to be blocked by any players of the opposing team—and winning the final point. The glow of your phone lit up your dark room as you chose another video, not caring that it was already 3 am and you had school tomorrow. You watched again as she received balls and sent kill shots over the net. All you wanted was to be like her, to be a pro volleyball player. You joined the support class by force, courtesy of your parents, after they noticed the amazing grades you were getting and realized how much money you could make to help the family. You didn’t complain, not when your parents needed help, but sometimes you wish you did. Being a volleyball player was all you wanted, but you were too late. You can’t stop with the support course now, you can’t start training harder now, you can’t get good enough to get into schools focused on sports, and you can’t get good enough for when recuirters and scouts come to find people worthy of scholarships. Sighing deeply, your eyes watering slightly, you set your phone down and curled into your pillow, falling asleep so you could go through another day you were forced to be living.

Waking up that morning, all your thoughts from a few hours ago came rushing back. You would never be good enough to be a pro. Never be able to do what you really wanted. You moved slowly around your room, putting on your uniform. You felt drained and all you could think about was having to be an engineer. Never being able to play on the same court as any of your favorite volleyball players. You would forever be stuck just watching, your skills going to waste. Finished with putting on your uniform, you walked towards the common room, going to breakfast, though you weren’t up for much of an appetite. You sit down next to Hatsume, placing your bag in your lap and clutching it tightly, while staring at your plate. You move the food around but never eat, nodding thoughtlessly as Hatsume talks about “baby 229”. When everyone finally finsished, except you, you all walk in a group to homeroom. You perked up slightly when you saw your boyfriend, Bakugo Katsuki, waiting next to the door for you.

“Oi, dumbass, what’s up with you?” Katsuki barked out, seeing you walking behind the others instead of making stupid jokes with your classmates like usual.

“Nothing Suki. I’m fine.” You say giving a soft smile, your arms itch to hug him, looking for comfort. But you would never force him to do that with his uncomfort towards pda.

He looks back at you with concern, masked by a glare before muttering a small ‘I love you, don’t be stupid’ and walking off to class.

You go back to class, feeling slightly better after seeing Katsuki, and listen to Power Loader drone on about upcoming events and assignments. When it’s finally time to go to the lab, the stressful, pained feeling you had before comes back again. You look at the parts around you and nothing comes to mind. No invention or idea. But the self-pity comes back, taking over your thoughts instead. Here you are, doing something you don’t even like. But it doesn’t matter, not like you have enough skill to be a professional volleyball player anyways. And these thoughts make you feel even worse. You’re supposed to be doing this for your family. You were in this course for your family, and all you wanted was to leave. You’re selfish, only thinking about what you want. Your mind was contradicting itself, making the self-hatred you were feeling even worse. Tears were slightly welling in your eyes again, but you work through them, opting on tinkering with an older invention. Your brain is too distracted to work on anything new. Everyone around you grew weary at your lack of jokes that only you find funny, and how you haven’t ran to Hatsume once to show her something you were working on. You were a good student, building amazing things, and being one of the few people who could actually work with Bakugo, that being the way you met. But today you were clearly out of it.

The minute class ended, you sped off to your dorm, not waiting for Katsuki like usual. Sitting on your bed, your hands were shaking. Each minute you were forced to work on inventions, the melancholy thoughts became worse. You looked at the poster on your wall, the person you aspired to be the most hanging there, spiking a ball over the net. And then you broke down, the stress of your thoughts building up. Tears streamed down your face, and you felt terrible for crying over something so stupid. But you couldn’t stop. All you wanted since you were a little girl was to soar on a court. You were starting to shake, your hands trembling and your body rocking back and forth. You were going to be stuck being an engineer. Being forced to stay here and build things just to support your parents with money. You could have supported your parents by professionally playing volleyball, but it was too late. You would never be good enough. Not for yourself, or your family. Your breath started to get caught in your throat as you began sobbing, your breathing becoming shallower and shallower. You couldn’t breathe. Everything was suffocating you. Your sobs got louder as you tried to gasp for air, but no breath got through, causing your tears to speed up. The trembling moved from just your hands to your entire body; your shaking becoming worse. You didn’t know what to do, the attack was taking over.

But then you heard loud knocks on your door.

“Dumbass, let me in.” You couldn’t respond through your attack, but you opened your mouth letting out a whining sob. “Shitty woman, are you ok?” Katsuki says now, his voice filled with concern.

“I’m coming in.” You heard Bakugo yell, before your door was kicked open.

Katsuki took in your shaking body and the fear that was displayed over your features and rushed over to you. His hands hesitantly went to touch you, but you jerked away at his touch. Your lack of breath caused your hands to begin to travel towards your throat and your body was beginning to shake more violently. Katsuki was frozen, scared to touch you again, but the way your hands were beginning to claw at your throat—trying to get in breath—urged him to grab your hands. You tried desperately to pull away, but he holds your shaking hands in his tight grip. Then small whispers begin to fall from his lips.

“Y/N, shh calm down. I’m here.” His whispers were shaky, his fear for you growing.

“Focus on my voice. Come on,” he takes your hands and presses them to his chest. “follow my breathing. Just breathe.”

You continue to listen to his soft whispers and your breathing slows down, becoming less erratic. Your violent shaking toned down, as you were now only rocking back and forth. Though your tears didn’t relent, still coming out as painful sobs.

“I’m here. Y/N, baby, I’m here for you.”

You finally took in normal breaths and Bakugo noticed, hesitantly placing his hand on your shoulder, gaging whether or not he could touch you yet, but the way you leaned into his arm caused him to pull you close to his body. His hands rubbed circles on your back, and your sobs finally began to slow into small sniffles. When you finally stopped shaking completely and your sniffles only happened every few minutes, did he begin talking.

“Oi, Y/N, what’s wrong?” Katsuki whispered out, still using a soft voice, sounding so different from his usual brash self.

You didn’t respond, deciding to just nuzzle your face into his chest.

“Dumbass, don’t rub your snot into my chest. Y/N, what’s wrong.” He said, his voice still soft. You took your face off his chest to look into his eyes, that shown with concern at your current state.

“I just, I’m sorry.” He made an annoyed noise at your unnecessary apology. “I’m just, not good enough. All I’ve wanted was to be a volleyball player but I’m here and I feel like a failure for not being happy, I mean, I go to U.A, but I just wish I got to do what I want.” Your voice was choking up, but now that you started you couldn’t stop. “I’m never going to be able to play volleyball. And I, I used to be like good, but now I haven’t played in like a year, because of school and I just want to. It’s all I want. But my parents need me to do this. It’s all they want from me. And I’m such a failure. I can’t do this, and I can’t be a volleyball player. Even if I tried, where would I go for it. It’s not like I can practice to be good enough to be a pro if I go here. It’s all too much. And, I’m so sorry, I should be happy to be here. With you. I shouldn’t be crying over something so dumb.” Your tears are back and you’re choking on your words.

Katsuki didn’t respond as you finished. His eyes were wide with an emotion you couldn’t identify. Your heart started to race and you refused to meet his gaze. What if he wanted to leave you because you didn’t want to go here? What if your dissatisfaction with being at U.A made him mad? It was such an esteemed school and you were just taking advantage of it. Katsuki let out a sigh and put his hands on the sides of your face, guiding your eyes to his.

“Y/N, I love you and if you want to be a fucking pro volleyball player then you fucking should. It’s your damn life. And if you don’t want to be a badass engineer then be a badass volleyball player. We can make it work if you leave U.A.” His voice starts off soft, but quickly reverts back to his usual rough voice in an attempt to show his support.

You let out a smile in response to his words, though small tears still fell from your eyes. But your smile turned to a little frown as you thought about how impossible it was that your parents would let you go to one of the sports academies nearby. But even if they did, you weren’t good enough to get in. Not anymore.

“Katsu, my parents won’t ever let me and even if they do, I’m not good enough to get into schools that focus on sports, I mean I’m in the support course. I never practice anymore either, I’m too busy.” You say sadly, but flash him a small smile to say thanks for trying.

“Shut the fuck up dumbass, you won’t know unless you try. You’re not a failure until you give up shitty woman. And I, Bakugo Katsuki, would never date a shitty ass failure. Besides you’re great, I’ve seen you play at the beach and shit.” He barks out, blushing when he brings up you playing.

You pause, thinking over his words, before a growing smile appears on your face. “I guess you’re right.” You say while a big grin settles on your face. “Thanks Suki, I love you.” You say softly.

“I always am.” Katsuki yells back, a prideful smirk covering his face. “And I love you too, Dumbass.” He says before placing a small peck onto your forehead.

You smile widely before nuzzling back into his chest, his arms wrapping around your back. You were going to try. You were going to try your hardest to soar through a court. To be the volleyball player you wanted to be. You knew you could be. And it was all because of Katsuki.

A/N: I’m so so so so sorry if this isn’t what you were looking for and I hope you like it 🥺💕

I think the end isn’t that good so sorry if you don’t like it 👊🏼😔

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damienthepious · 3 years

Text

[a small gentle shout] happee lizz kis tues

could stay right here

[ao3]

Fandom: The Penumbra Podcast

Relationship: Lord Arum/Sir Damien/Rilla

Characters: Lord Arum, Rilla, Sir Damien (but only asleep)

Additional Tags: Second Citadel, Lizard Kissin’ Tuesday, Established Relationship, Early Relationship, Sleep, Literal Sleeping Together, Sleepy Cuddles, (yes two in a row. SUE ME.), Kissing, Singing, Banter

Summary: He isn't used to sharing a bed, just yet.

Notes: this was. supposed to be like... six hundred words, maybe? (sigh). enjoyy????? I hope? I don't know why i'm suddenly obsessed with Early Relationship One-Shots, but!!! apparently I am??? Heck. Title from the song Cement and Sunshine by Morningsiders!

Arum jerks awake as the bed shifts, a flash of panic gripping his lungs and squeezing-

Attack, he thinks, and then, won't let anyone hurt them. How- who-

Amaryllis.

She makes some small noise, presses her hands against his collarbone on either side, firm and sturdy, and he manages to suck in a breath that does not feel so strangled.

"Sorry," she says, her voice a breathy whisper by his ear as her hands keep him anchored, her thumbs rubbing soothing arcs against his scales. "Sorry, sorry- didn't mean to-"

Arum remembers. Remembers Damien curled against his left arms. He remains an unbothered, unconscious weight as Arum becomes aware of him again, and he remembers Amaryllis waving them off to bed before returning to her pile of five or six books and her recorder, an unmoveable fountain of determination, remembers awkwardly managing to ask- to ask that she join them, when she at last reached a stopping point, remembers her small, fond, knowing smile-

"It- it's- it's alright," he manages in a hiss, lifting one of his hands to curl around her wrist. "I'm alright. I-"

She leans back in the dark, beginning to draw away, and the panic moves, squeezing his heart instead. He grips her wrist more tightly, still careful of his claws despite his muddled awareness.

"Wait," he whispers, and the only reason he does not lean up to follow her is because he refuses to risk waking Damien beside him. "Don't- don't leave, I-"

She stills, and though he knows it is too dark for her vision she looks towards his voice, blinking against the black. She rests her weight on him again, her palms warm on his chest.

"I'm not leaving," she says, very gently. "It's alright, I promise. Let me just grab the blanket, that's all."

Arum has the sense that he should bristle at that, at her gentleness, her comforting tone, but his heart hasn't slowed yet, and his relief is too large to deny. He makes a noise, hopefully enough of an affirmative for her to interpret, and then he releases her wrist so she can lean back and gather the sheets from where he and Damien must have kicked them in their sleep.

She tugs them up over her shoulder and settles against his side with a small sigh, arranging the cloth to cover him as well, and then she leaves one hand over his heart, brushing slowly up and down.

He tries to slow himself down, to settle, to match his breaths to the motion of her hand, and after a few heartbeats it starts to come more easily.

"I'm sorry," Amaryllis says again, her voice a careful whisper. "I didn't mean to surprise you."

His chest rumbles quietly, a helpless almost-growl, and then he cautiously curls his arm around her, pulling her just the littlest bit closer. "I didn't mean to surprise you," he echoes, low and uncertain. "Jolting awake like that."

"You aren't used to this," she says. "It's okay."

"Used to-" he cuts off, frowning, trying to focus on not letting his rattling growl grow loud enough to wake Damien as well.

"This," she says, her palm pressing down on his scales. "This," she repeats, and then she presses her lips so, so gently to the scales at the crook of his neck.

Arum freezes for half a second, and then his body relaxes all at once, as if she has cast a spell over him with her kiss alone.

She isn't wrong, of course. It had been difficult enough for him to slip into slumber in the first place. Damien had positioned himself draped along Arum's side with a sigh and a kiss and Arum had laid utterly, exquisitely still until the poet drifted to unconsciousness, and then for what felt like rather a long time afterward. When sleep did find him, it must have been a rather fragile thing, considering how easily and violently it broke at Amaryllis' entrance.

"I... I suppose..."

"I mean, I get it. It took me a long time to get used to sharing a bed with Damien, actually," she says, her tone mild, and Arum blinks, glancing down at her musing expression.

"Why?" He frowns, unable to imagine a time- unable to imagine the pair of them at all separate, at all misaligned. They fit together so easily, without any apparent effort, enough so that at times he can hardly believe there was a time he did not know how intertwined they are.

"Because I was too used to sleeping on my own?" Her mouth curls, almost wry, as she traces nonsense shapes on his scales with the tip of her pointer finger. "I spent a long time alone in my hut, and even when I found people to fool around with I didn't usually spend the night. And I'm a really light sleeper in the first place, so it was a big change for me." She shifts slightly, readjusting the arc of his arms curled around her. "He rolled over onto me once, like, the third night we spent together, and I woke both of us up socking him in the nose."

Arum snorts, then holds his breath to keep from cackling a proper laugh. He gulps in a breath after a moment, feeling Amaryllis smiling against his shoulder, and he controls his voice carefully low as he responds. "A rather rude awakening for the poor knight, Amaryllis."

"I know," she rolls her eyes. "I felt awful about it, but- you know Damien. He apologized almost as many times as I did. Dummy."

Arum's heart does something unhelpful and twisting beneath the warmth of Amaryllis' palm, and he buries some rather embarrassing thoughts about the spun-sugar sweetness of their poet before he shakes his head.

"Completely absurd," he mumbles, and then, because he knows Amaryllis cannot see him do so, he tilts his head enough to press his snout gently to Damien's curls. Not quite a kiss by their human measures, but... he feels warmer, regardless, when Damien shifts almost imperceptibly closer at the contact.

"What I mean is..." she tilts her head, kissing his jaw this time. "It's alright. It's alright if it takes a while for you to adjust to things, or- or if you decide eventually that you'd rather not share a bed at all, for actually sleeping. That's fine too, that's an answer that's on the table."

"Don't be foolish," Arum grumbles, resisting the urge to tighten his grip. She's as close as she could possibly be, he reasons. The instinct to pull her closer regardless is nonsense. "I want- I would much rather-"

"I just want you to know that you don't have to do anything just because you feel like you should, that's all."

Arum presses his lips together, torn between gratefulness and indignation, and then he sighs. "I appreciate the... the effort towards clarity. It is not that I don't want the both of you here, beside me, though. I only... I cannot seem to... I am rather vividly aware of you. It is difficult to find rest, while my mind... lingers upon you."

"Ah," she breathes something like a laugh. "Yeah, that makes sense."

"I want you here," he says, trying to round off any ambiguity on that subject, and her breath flutters with another subtle laugh. "Clearly I managed sleep eventually. I'll do so again, I'm certain."

"Well," she says, her voice tilting breathier, richer, more warm with sleep, "if you're certain. Saints know I'm too tired to get antsy about it anyway."

With each moment, her weight settles more heavily against him, a more-than-welcome echo of the pressure of Damien's body on his other side, and he feels heavier as well as her breathing begins to slow. She'll drag him down into slumber with her, he thinks muzzily, and he can't suppress a subtle purr as her fingers continue to trace light, tingling lines on the scales above his heart.

"Just want you to be comfortable," she murmurs, and then she closes her eyes, pressing her cheek against his shoulder. "You don't get enough sleep. And yeah, yeah, I'm a hypocrite, before you even say anything."

He cuts off his retort before it begins, chuckling low, and he must truly be half asleep again already, because his next words come before he can think better of them, and he is halfway through his next murmuring sentence before he realizes that he is speaking.

"I can't understand how much you both... how..."

Amaryllis waits, drawing her fingers over his scales slowly, slowly, her eyes closed, but eventually when he fails to continue she makes a humming, questioning noise against his shoulder.

Arum swallows, shoring up his nerve since he has already begun to speak- he may as well say this now, while Damien sleeps soundly in his arms and Amaryllis cannot see whatever look is on his face.

"I cannot understand... how much trust you place in me. To... to sleep like this. It feels so... you are so vulnerable, Damien out of his armor, and you- it is so hard to- to understand- to reconcile that- that vulnerability and- to settle my own mind, while you both lie helpless and sleeping beside me. I want to pr- I can't- I cannot shake my awareness of your breathing, your heartbeats, and-"

Her hand stills above his heart; he wonders dizzily if she can feel the way it beats, faster with each passing word. He feels ridiculous- of course he does, he can hardly unravel his own thoughts while they still tangle, only half drawn into his waking mind, and he cannot even say if any of this coalesces into something that makes sense.

She turns in the darkness, unseeing, aiming her face towards his own, and then she trails her hand up from his chest, up his throat until she finds his jaw, the curve of his cheek, and then she turns his face towards her own. Ridiculous, he thinks fondly, since she still, obviously, cannot see him, but then she- she angles his head, presses a kiss against his mouth, and then she tilts both of their heads until their foreheads press together.

"You... you're saying you can't fall asleep because you're worried- you're worried about us? About- making sure we're safe."

"I don't-" Arum swallows roughly, nervously, his breath clicking at the base of his throat. "I don't know. I don't know what- what worries me, truly. I know- here in the Keep I know- obviously we are safe, but-"

Amaryllis kisses him again, gentle and warm in the dark, a tender press of lips against scales until his heart slows. She tips their foreheads together again, bites her lip, exhales a long sigh, and then she smiles so, so terribly softly with her palm caressing his cheek.

"And here I was worrying that you couldn't sleep because you weren't used to being so vulnerable," she whispers, and Arum resists the urge to flare his frill in embarrassment. "You- Saints. I- fuck, I could say so many different things right now, but I feel like every single one would embarrass you. I-"

Arum clamps his mouth shut, shrugs very gently with the shoulder beneath Amaryllis, and then he risks nuzzling forward again, gratified when she graces him with another kiss. "Save it for the morning, then," he murmurs. "You can embarrass me plenty when Damien is awake to make that precious wide-eyed expression about it."

Amaryllis shakes with silent laughter against him for a moment, kisses him one more time, and then resettles at his side with a warm, contented sigh.

"Do you think you'll be able to sleep again?" she whispers, her breath tickling at the crook of his neck. "I'd hate to think that I..."

"I'm certain that I'll manage, Amaryllis."

"I can... I could sing for you. If you want me to."

Arum glances towards her, a little surprised by the hesitant note in her voice, the hint of something like shyness. "You..." he pauses, swallows, thinks better of simply announcing how utterly enthralling he is by her voice in song. "That would not wake our little knight, you don't think?" he hedges instead.

"I can sing quietly," she complains, her lips drawing together into something like a pout, her nose wrinkling almost too adorably to stand. "And besides, our little knight sleeps like a fucking rock, anyway." She curls closer towards him, nuzzling her nose into his neck, beside his frill with a sleepy growl. "Do you want a lullaby or not?

"Well..." Arum trails off, taking a moment to force the breathlessness out of his own voice. "Well. If my choices while in bed with you are a song or a punch in the nose, I certainly won't complain about the former-"

She gasps, scowls in mock offense and swats at his side as he bites back the urge to chuckle, and then she settles her hand over his heart again, pressing down.

"Oh you just wait, you complete brat-"

"Are you going to sing or not, little doctor?"

"Hush," she growls, pressing her face into his neck. "Hush up and I will. Absolute brat."

Arum breathes another laugh, helpless against it, and then he settles, and after a moment her fingers start drumming a little pattern against his scales. With the rhythm of his heart, he realizes, and then a moment later she begins to sing, soft and husky and mostly breath, close against his neck.

He doesn't expect it to work, truly. She is so present, they both are, his awareness of their heat and their proximity such a vivid tether in his mind, impossible to ignore. Her song, her voice- everything about her is ethereal, stunning, gorgeous, of course, but he does not expect that even that could draw him down, pinned between their fragile resting bodies.

In the morning, though, he will not even remember the second verse.

#elle's fanfic #the penumbra podcast #second citadel #rad bouquet #lizard kissin' tuesday #lord arum #amaryllis of exile #aaaaaaaaaaaaa

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kar-krashew · 3 years

Text

@arsenic-creator THIS IS THE CHEESIEST THING I'VE EVER WRITTEN BUT HERE'S YOUR CARS AU MALEC FIC.

(Rated T for language).

----

There are a lot of things that Alec misses about life outside this shitty little town, even though he’s only been here for a few days: his family, his friends, his cell phone— he could go on for a while. Hell, he even misses Aldertree’s incessant bragging at this point, which is a little concerning, because the man is a menace and just generally unpleasant to be around. The fact that Alec has not had a very public fistfight with him yet is a goddamn miracle.

But— he’s getting distracted. The point is, there are a lot of things on that list.

So, it’s genuinely impressive when Simon shows up and rambles for long enough that all Alec really misses now is some peace and quiet, because Simon does not know when to shut up, oh my god—

“What happens if you get pulled over on the road and you don’t have your license on you? Do the cops just let you go? I mean, you are a world famous racer, so it would be assumed that you know how to drive, right?” he pesters, “Or do you still get in trouble?”

Alec groans. He’s been dealing with this for the better part of an hour now, and throwing himself into a nearby cactus plant has never seemed more appealing. Simon, ruiner of lives and seemingly oblivious to Alec’s current temperament, barrels on steadily in his rant about cops and racers until they approach the main part of the plaza, where he suddenly pauses and grins.

Dread claws its way up Alec’s shoulders. Simon grinning like that can only bring bad things.

“So,” the kid drawls, “Where are you staying tonight? Anywhere special? In the spare bedroom of a local attorney, by the name of Magnus Bane, perhaps?”

Scratch that: Alec’s going to throw Simon into a nearby cactus plant, and he won’t even feel a little bit guilty. He could make it look like an accident and everything.

“Fuck off, Simon,” he scowls. He tries increasing his pace to ditch the kid, but Simon is nothing if not persistent. “Don’t you have anything else to be doing right now?”

“Nope.” Simon pops the word in his mouth, grin growing even wider. “You like him. Like, like-like him!” he declares, leaning in closer. “If it helps, I think he likes you, too.”

“Are we fifth graders now? Is that what’s happening?” Alec pointedly ignores the blush threatening to take over his face, and glowers down at the brunette. “Besides, he’s just being nice. It doesn’t have to mean something.” He’d meant to sound firm and sure when he said it, but his voice tapers off and gets soft instead, and now Alec is considering committing multiple misdemeanors if it means he’ll get out of this conversation. Simon shoots him a knowing look.

“But you want it to mean something,” he observes. Alec rolls his eyes, not bothering to grace the statement with a response. Simon takes it as an open invitation to start singing a very loud and terrible rendition of a song about Alec and Magnus sitting in a tree, and it’s enough for Alec to give in and violently shove the other.

Unfortunately, Simon does not hit any of the cacti nearby.

God, Alec hates this town.

---

The thing about Magnus Bane is that, well—

The man is fucking beautiful. Like, holy-shit-Alec-can't-breathe-around-him beautiful, with golden skin and kohl-lined eyes and dark hair and a jawline that Alec would love to get up close and personal with.

The first time they’d met, Alec made a complete ass out of himself by stumbling all over his words in court and then had gotten himself stuck doing community service, largely because of Magnus, for the god-forsaken town he’d managed to land himself in.

(Look, it’s not his fault that he somehow managed to destroy the town’s main road after veering wildly off course and out of control on his way to Brooklyn, okay? These things happen.)

It had kind of been all downhill from there.

But now, somehow, he’s lying in Magnus’s spare bedroom and watching the sunlight as it touches everything in the room with its golden glow, illuminating the walls, the potted plants, the shelves, the man leaning against the doorway—

“Holy shit!”

Alec scrambles to sit up in bed, frantically pulling up the sheets to his bare chest, as Magnus laughs. “Magnus!” Alec squeaks. “I, um, what’re you doing here?”

Magnus grins, rounding the corner of the bed to place a tray in front of Alec. “I thought I’d bring you breakfast,” he says, “before I asked you if you wanted to go for a drive.”

Alec frowns. “A drive?”

“A drive,” Magnus repeats, shrugging a shoulder. “I wanted to show you something, and took the liberty of filling your car up with gas again.”

“Wha— Why? You don’t think I’ll try leaving town again?” The only reason Alec hadn’t been able to leave when he first tried had been the lack of fuel in his tank, so he’s genuinely confused as to why Magnus decided to change that.

“I don’t know, will you?” the other asks. He tilts his head, looking gentle and blurred in his robe and smiling softly, something warm cradled in his eyes, and Alec knows with sudden certainty that he won’t. He might’ve said yes a few days ago, but now?

“No,” he replies. “I won’t.”

“That’s that, then,” Magnus beams, and Alec can’t help beaming back a little stupidly. “I trust you. Now, finish up, Alexander. We’ve got daylight to catch.”

---

“Where do you want me to go?”

They’re both sitting in Alec’s car, windows rolled down, on an old road leading away from the interstate. It’s beautiful out here— green trees circling a little lake tucked in between the rocks and dirt— but Alec has a feeling it’s not what Magnus wanted to show him.

“Just follow the path,” Magnus instructs, unbuckling his seatbelt. He turns to Alec and winks, before hoisting himself so that he’s sitting halfway out of the window, laughing at Alec’s surprised yelp and swerve of the car. “Careful there, hotshot!” he giggles, then leans further out like he’s got a fucking death wish, closing his eyes against the wind.

“Are you insane?” Alec yells out, and Magnus laughs harder.

“All the best people are, darling!” he responds. “I’ll be just peachy. Just keep going, we’re about to get to my favorite part!”

Alec’s about to yell out again, probably something like you have a favorite part of almost dying? or I think I’m halfway in love with you as they pass through a rocky tunnel, but before he can say either, his breath catches at the sight in front of him.

A huge, sparkling waterfall cascades down from the mountains, overlooking the rocky canyon and trees below it, framing the bridge that hangs in between. It almost doesn’t look real, more like something out of a corny road trip movie or a documentary, and Alec slows down as they approach it, taking it in. Magnus grins as they pass by, leaning out to catch errant drops of water on his fingertips, and God, it’s such a cliché and cheesy thing to do, and Alec wants to kiss him straight on his stupid mouth.

“I bet you don’t see that out in the city,” Magnus says smugly, tucking himself back into the car. He glances back at Alec with a smirk on his lips, running a hand through his wind-mussed hair. “Isn’t it gorgeous?”

“Yeah,” Alec breathes, staring at Magnus’s flushed cheeks and bright eyes. “It really is.”

(Fuck, now he’s the one being cliché. Izzy’s going to find out about this somehow and laugh at him forever.)

“Right.” Magnus clears his throat, looking away, jarring Alec back to reality. “We’re almost there, just pull up at the sign there,” he continues, pointing to a clearing ahead.

Alec coughs, nodding. “Right. Yes. The sign.”

The sign in question is a small landmark that points to a dilapidated, out-of-place building hidden between the rock of the mountain. “The Hotel Dumont,” the front reads, paint chipped away at the edges of the letters. The building looks Victorian in design, with intricate arches decorating the front, though many of them are cracked and gray now, and there’s a large open courtyard area in the front that appears abandoned now. It must’ve been beautiful, once. Now, it carries only echoes of a world passed.

“What is this place?” Alec asks. Magnus shakes his head and exits the car, then stands and stares at the sign for a while when Alec joins him.

“This used to be their livelihood,” he finally says, “The Hotel Dumont. Raphael used to run it, and everyone else would pitch in. You wouldn’t believe what it looked like earlier: parties in the main hall, music playing in the foyer, people laughing. It kept them going.”

“What happened?”

Magnus smiles wistfully. “A famous racer by the name of Valentine dropped a particularly scathing review of the hotel after Raphael caught him harassing customers and kicked him out. Had enough influence and lawyers to destroy all of this place’s credibility. These days, everyone’s barely getting by. It’s why they took so long to warm up to you; you essentially represent everything that ruined them.”

That’s horrible, Alec wants to say, but instead he looks over at Magnus and notes his glittering makeup and golden rings and silk tunic and blurts out, “Then how did you end up here?” and immediately winces.

It’s a valid question, technically— Magnus obviously wasn’t one of the town’s original residents, if his extravagant nature and the way he discusses the hotel are any indication— but still. Alec could’ve been gentler about it.

“I was an attorney in L.A, actually,” Magnus sighs. “It was good, I suppose, and money was never an issue, but I don’t think I was happy.” He shuffles closer to Alec as they idle in front of the building, brushing their shoulders together. “Got myself horribly drunk one night and made a whole plan to run away and leave the city behind. I woke up the next day, saw the plans, decided I might as well, and just started driving until my car finally broke down here.”

They’re silent for a moment, and Alec reaches out to touch his fingertips to Magnus’s comfortingly. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, “I can’t imagine what that must’ve felt like.”

Magnus turns to face him completely then, looking up at him knowingly. “Can’t you?” he asks. He takes Alec’s palms in his own and holds their hands between them. “Are you happy out there, Alexander?”

Alec blinks, startled. “Of course I am,” he protests automatically, because why wouldn’t he be? He’s rich, he’s famous, he’s doing what he loves; it’s all perfect. And yet—

He thinks about the constant pressure from his family and fans to be perfect and flashy and smiling all the time. He thinks back to his mother’s desperate attempts to hide his sexuality from the media, setting him up for meeting after meeting with beautiful women. He thinks about the façade he’s made for himself against the person he is right now, standing here with Magnus, and realizes that they’ve never been the same.

“I don’t know,” he finally admits. “I— I’m not sure.”

Magnus hums. He looks back at the hotel, Alec’s hands still clutched in his own. “You don’t have to leave, you know. You could stay here,” he says.

Alec surveys the landscape, then the man in front of him. “Yeah,” he agrees, “I think I could.”

---

He never gets to find out, because the next day it all goes to hell: Maryse Lightwood descends on the town, armed with a fleet of reporters and a truck waiting to take Alec away.

“We’re going now, Alec,” she demands. “Say goodbye to your ‘friends’ if you need to, and then we’re leaving.” She glances warily over at Magnus, who’s holding Alec’s hand, and frowns before she turns on her heel and walks away.

“So,” Magnus says flatly, “It appears you’re finally getting to that race.”

Alec wants to scream. He hates this, hates that this is how it’s going to end, before it’s even truly begun. If he just had more time—

“Magnus, I wanted to—” he starts, “I wish we—” He exhales, running a hand through his hair exasperatedly, and Magnus smiles.

“It’s alright, Alexander. Just stay in touch, okay?” He pats Alec’s shoulder. “Go on, darling. I don’t think your mother would appreciate me keeping you any longer than I already have.”

Alec hesitates a moment more, wanting to do something, anything, to make this different, but then he swallows and steps away.

“Okay,” he murmurs. “I’ll, I’ll call you.”

(It won’t change anything: his life will be exactly the same as it was before. Just one phone call added onto the routine. They both know this is goodbye to whatever they could be.)

Still, Magnus squeezes his fingers and keeps smiling. “I’ll be waiting, Alexander,” he says.

“Sure,” Alec replies uselessly.

So he’s here now, weeks later, sitting on the stands and supposedly getting ready for a race that he doesn’t have heart in anymore.

Honestly, fuck this race. They all go the same way: he’ll race, he’ll win or lose, he’ll pose with some model for a newspaper, and that’ll be it. It used to be enough for him, once.

“Alec?” a voice interrupts, “You okay?”

It’s Izzy, crackling through the comms piece in his ear. Alec clears his throat. “Yeah,” he replies, hoping his voice doesn’t sound as brittle over the mic as it feels, “I’m fine.”

He’ll swallow his emotions and make it enough, again.

“Alright,” Izzy concedes, but she sounds disbelieving, “If you say so. It’s almost time, you might want to head to the car soon, okay?”

Alec hums in the affirmative, heading down to the track, paparazzi trying their best to bombard him. He takes a deep breath, avoiding the cameras, and opens the driver's side door of the car.

He’ll call Magnus after this. It’ll be enough.

Alec ducks under the roof of the vehicle. “Hey, Izzy?” he calls, seating himself behind the wheel. “If I win, remind me to call Magnus, okay?”

“I’m afraid that would be a little redundant, darling,” a new voice replies, and Alec’s heart skips a beat. “Given that you’ll be talking to me already.”

Magnus.

“Magnus?” Alec fucking leaps out of his car, searching frantically around the pit for the man in his ear. A warm laugh floods the comms, and Alec feverishly pushes past cameramen and well-meaning assistants (who are trying to remind him that he really should be in his car right now) in his desperation, only to turn around and:

It’s him. It’s really him, smiling warmly at Alec with his gorgeous brown eyes, wearing black eyeliner to match the Lightwood tracksuit he’s wearing, and Alec missed him so much, oh god, he’s really here—

“Magnus,” he breathes, then he’s throwing his helmet down and closing the distance between them and pulling at Magnus’s lapels, up, up, up, and straight to his own mouth.

He’s kissing him.

Magnus is gripping onto his face too tightly and Alec is clacking their teeth together too harshly, but it’s Magnus, and it’s perfect, and Alec is kissing him, and he could lose every race from this moment on and still feel like he’s on top of the world if it means he’ll get to have this.

“You came,” he whispers when they finally pull apart. Magnus cups his face, stealing another kiss, before he responds.

“Of course I did. Honestly, I’m offended you didn’t ask for me to show up here, yourself,” he teases, and Alec grins bashfully.

“I didn’t think you’d want to,” he replies. Magnus rolls his eyes before pressing their foreheads together.

“Well, darling, we better change that soon, hm?” He twirls his fingers at the nape of Alec’s neck, and time feels like it's perfect and frozen forever in this moment, until Magnus clears his throat.

“I hate to interrupt this, Alexander, but there’s a race and a very excited group of reporters waiting for you, and you should probably get back to both. Unless, of course, you’re not planning to participate?”

Alec snorts and pulls away, loosening his grip around Magnus’s waist. “I plan on participating, Magnus,” he says. “I have a very special someone I’d like to dedicate the trophy to, if they’re open to the idea.”

Magnus grins. “Mmm, you’d have to win, first, wouldn’t you?” he winks, and Alec smirks back.

“For you?” he replies. “I’d do nothing less.”

Alec knows that he’s going to have an absolute media shitstorm waiting for him after he ends this race. But, looking back at a beaming Magnus as he picks his helmet up, he thinks it just might be worth it.

God, Alec loves that town. He's not sure why he ever thought otherwise.

#my writing #fic #malec fic #malec #magnus bane #alec lightwood #cars #this is a fucking cars au #im not even ashamed #simon lewis #Simon is MATER lmao #shadowhunters #life is a highway blares in the background

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ymiwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

A Siren’s Song

I had this idea for some time and I may have gotten a bit carried away but I’m very proud of the final result! I’ve tried looking at Revali’s character a bit more in depth and I think this oneshot really shows that! Also yeah, the reader is a siren. Please enjoy!!

The Legend of Zelda: Breath of The Wild

Revali x Siren!Fem!Reader

Summary: After being assigned a quite boring and troublesome mission the Rito Champion finds himself on the stranded island of Eventide, though he soon finds out that he isn’t the only one there.

The navy blue Rito huffed in annoyance as he flew over the cerulean waters of the Necluda Sea. Out of all the things he could have been assigned to, this was by far the most belittling and cumbersome. To think that the Princess, so dependent on his superior skills, underestimated said skills by having him search for this isolated shrine allegedly located on a faraway island, was it called Eventide? He couldn’t recall as his annoyance was far outweighing his desire to visit this remote island. Revali understood why he was chosen for this painfully simple mission as he could most efficiently cross the vast sea separating the island from mainland Hyrule with his impressive flying, though this didn’t mean he was any less irritated about it.

As the island slowly came to view Revali’s eyes quickly scanned the area in case he could already see this alleged shrine. He sighed as he saw nothing of interest and continued approaching the isle. However, as he got closer, instead of seeing something, a faint sound reached him, and he could just barely hear it. Revali frowned his brows, the sound becoming clearer and clearer the closer he got, and for some reason, he felt this strange need to follow this sound. It was now clear to him that what he was following was a female voice singing somewhere on the island, the intricate melodies ringing in his head like a spell, almost asking him to follow it.

The heavenly voice the Rito couldn’t ignore led him to a sandy beach and beyond as he quickly realized that the sound was coming from the sea itself. He slowed down, the singing being now incredibly close as he could now hear it louder than ever. Revali hovered above the still somewhat shallow water, the voice seemingly echoing below the surface. His curious emerald eyes looked down, trying to see if he could witness the source of this mysterious singing. His eyes caught something. A figure, swimming in the water, effortlessly floating in the blue liquid and glimmering under the sun. He lowered himself further, desiring to see this mystical figure in more detail. However, this decision soon proved to be treacherous.

Suddenly, the singing ceased and Revali snapped out of the trance-like state he was just under, only to be violently pulled under the surface by an unknown force. Panic quickly kicked in and the Rito began thrashing around, desperately trying to reach the surface to get air. However, whatever was holding him had an iron-like grip on his torso that refused to let go, no matter how much he struggled. Revali was pulled deeper and deeper, the sunlight from the surface barely visible anymore. He was running out of options, and most crucially, oxygen.

The only and possibly last option that entered his mind seemed ridiculous and he wasn’t even certain it would work, however, there was nothing else to do. The vicious predator never loosened its grip as it dragged him down, certain that there was no way for the Rito to escape. But suddenly, something happened and the Rito was carried up by something that looked like an updraft. The unknown creature couldn’t keep up with the speed and was forced to let go, allowing Revali to shoot up from the ocean and not so gracefully land on the sand of the beach.

The Rito panted, trying to catch his breath, secretly thanking the Goddesses that he was able to escape. Trying to use his technique underwater was incredibly risky, but Revali was relieved to see that it had succeeded in saving his life. Realization quickly hit him as the battle was not over yet and whatever had just attacked him was still lurking around somewhere. He quickly stood up, his soaked feathers weighing him down a bit and he went to grab his bow from his back. Only to realize that it was not there. He frantically looked around, trying to find his weapon, but it was nowhere to be seen.

“Looking for this?” Your voice came through and stopped the Rito in his tracks as you emerged from the water, holding his Great Eagle Bow in your hand. Revali looked at you noting your scaly skin, long claws, but most notably, your tail. The Rito didn’t say a word, which caused your already existing smirk to widen. “You survived. That’s quite impressive. No one has been able to do that yet,” you say and look at the weapon in your hand, carefully examining it. “Hmm.. Quite the craftsmanship… Do you mind if I keep this?” Your eyes turn to look at Revali, who merely crosses his wings and scoffs.

“I doubt such a primitive beast like you would know how to properly utilize such a weapon’s strengths.” The tone of his voice is mocking, which surprises you, coming from someone who just almost met their doom. His eyes don’t even bother to look at you, which is meant to indicate that he saw you as an inferior being, however this has little to no effect on you.

“You’re a Rito, right?” He glanced at you and raised his brow most likely surprised a creature like you knew about the races living in Hyrule. Your smirk widened at this. “I’ve seen a few of you fly by. Though none have been brainless enough to approach me.” You glance at him, your eyes alone shining in a way that challenges his presence. “Well, until now.” Internally, your words painfully strike his pride, making himself feel like a fool. Externally, however, he merely laughs sarcastically and scoffs again.

“Only a lowly creature like you would resort to such cowardly methods in battle.” He brought his still wet wing to his chest as he continued to bathe in his own words of praise: “If you had revealed yourself like a true warrior, my victory would have been but assured.” Despite his words meant to be condescending, you couldn’t help but giggle at them. “Yet this lowly creature almost killed you.” Revali’s previously confident expression fell slightly, but you were able to catch that subtle change in his body language and it only fueled your own confidence.

“You know what? I like you. And it would be rude of me to leave you to fend for yourself,” you say, referring to his bow that was still in your clawed hand. Revali raised his brow at you, knowing full well that you were planning something as he wasn’t foolish enough to think that a creature of deceit would just offer his weapon without asking for anything in return. “However as I’m sure you already know, I can’t just give this beauty back to you for free. In fact, I need you to fetch something from me.” As soon as these words left your mouth, Revali let out a seemingly nonchalant laugh, most likely to fuel his facade.

“Ha! And why would I, Revali, the Legendary Rito Champion, obtain anything for the likes of you?” The Rito had raised his voice, and it was now echoing around the entire island. You sigh in fake disappointment and frown your brows to appear hurt. “I thought you might say something like that. Oh well.” Revali’s eyes widen when he sees you stretching the bowstring and pretending to shoot something, his gaze immediately noting the incorrect technique. “I suppose I will become an archer then,” You say with a voice that has a tone of underlying mischievousness as your claws come dangerously close to scratching the wooden surface of the bow. Your little trick is working as Revali is quick to stop you.

“Don’t do that!” He suddenly yelled which he immediately realized to be a crack in his seemingly unconcerned facade. You look at him with a smirk and he grumbles something under his breath. “Curse you…” He clears his throat and swallows his pride for this brief moment, only for the sake of his weapon. “What is it that you want me to obtain?” He asks rather quietly and your gaze immediately lights up.

“Aww, I knew I could count on you!” You exclaim mockingly, which only increases Revali’s feeling of humiliation. Your (E/C) eyes look at him properly for the first time as you state your request: “Are you familiar with the spirit dragon Farosh? It is said to appear near the Bridge of Hylia.” Revali listened closely, unsure what you were about to request. He was familiar with the spirit dragons, however wasn’t certain if they even really existed. “Now this is where you come along.” You said to make sure he was listening. “What I need, is a scale from this dragon. And you need to find a way to get me one.” You smiled playfully and Revali crossed his wings once more.

“You require a scale from a spirit dragon? And what do you plan on doing with it?” He asked, suspicion and strange curiosity coating his voice. You chuckle lightly and shake your head. “That’s classified information and totally irrelevant to the topic. I simply need it. And if you ever wish to use this quite stunning bow again, you’d better do as I requested.” A smirk makes its way across your lips again and you notice Revali’s own irritation growing. “So, do we have a deal, oh great Champion Revali?”

The navy blue Rito clicked his tongue in annoyance, but couldn’t do much to improve his situation. Other than comply. “Fine.” Your smirk widened at that, but you soon notice him stretching his wing out and taking a few steps closer to the shore. “However I need that in order to succeed,” He said, a smug smirk of his own dancing along his beak. You let out a laugh. How stupid did he think you were?

“Oh no, I won’t fall for that. I’ll be holding onto this,” you say, lightly caressing the bow. “To make sure that you won’t trick me.” You glance at him and see his face once again twisted by exasperation. He didn’t say anything, instead he crouched down and prepared to take off, not even bothering to look at you. “I’ll be waiting here. Just throw the scale into the ocean when you return and you’ll get your precious bow back. I promise.” You say with rare authenticity the Rito also notices. However, your features quickly revert to how they were moments ago. “Also, don’t take too long, I might get bored and leave the area. You wouldn’t want to lose-”

You didn’t have time to finish your words of tease when a huge gust of wind blew from below the Rito, drying his wet feathers in the process. With one leap he was flung into the air and began heading towards the direction he initially came from. You raised your brow at this but smiled in amusement.

“So that’s how you did it…”

To the Rito’s surprise, he was able to find this supposed spirit dragon and obtain its scale in a few days, albeit not easily. Having no previous knowledge of this dragon as well as approaching it without his trusty bow, Revali found the process troublesome and far too tedious and suffered a few minor shocks from the spirit. In addition to this, the Rito wasn’t certain why, but he felt a bizarre feeling of curiosity when it came to you. Perhaps it was merely something everyone like you possessed, seeing as your primary tactic was to allure people close and brutally drown them. The captivating song you sung upon your first meeting seemed to have planted a part of it within him. Regardless, he was successful in his little mission and was now on his way back to the stranded island to hopefully get his Great Eagle Bow back.

The Rito landed on the familiar beach, seeing no signs of anyone around him. He looked around a few more times before sighing in defeat and throwing the scale into the water, secretly praying that you wouldn’t just snatch it and leave. The scale floated on the surface and for a good few minutes, nothing happened, which made Revali wonder if you had tricked him from the very beginning. His patience had limits and it wouldn’t take long before he would accept defeat and leave the island with a bitter taste on his tongue.

However, suddenly something shot up from the water, and the emerald-eyed Rito could see two clawed hands grabbing the scale, followed by your familiar form emerging from the water, his bow securely on your back. Your (E/C) eyes admired the scaled and there was a wide, genuine smile on your lips. “You found it! You actually found it! For the love of Farore I never thought you’d be able to-” You stopped your excited exclamations when you noticed Revali looking at you, his wings crossed in front of his chest and a smirk stretching the corners of his beak. “Awfully enthusiastic, aren’t we? And here I thought you were nothing more than a traitorous snake,” He stated, strangely amused at your reaction.

You cleared your throat as his comment threw you off a bit. “Well, I suppose looks can deceive.” You grab his bow from your back and take a final look at it. “I’ve grown quite fond of this one, I almost don’t want to let it go.” Your words are meant to once again irritate him, but when you look at him, his expression is rather hard to read. However, it is clear that he wants his bow back. “But I am a woman of my word,” You finally say and toss the bow to him, which he immediately catches, quickly examining it before placing it on his back.

“I appreciate the cooperation, Miss…” His voice trails off, having realized that he doesn’t in fact know your name.

“(Name). My name is (Name).” A smile makes its way on your lips as you formally introduce yourself for the first time. Revali nods. “Well, (Name). I do hope you find a good use for that scale. Having me fetch it for you is quite the honor, I’ll have you know,” He says, feeding his pride once again. You playfully roll your eyes but laugh nonetheless. “I can imagine.” Suddenly, your eyes are firmly locked on him, their previous sarcastic and mischievous shine having disappeared completely as you hold the scale against your chest.

“Thank you, Revali. Truly.”

His eyes widen at this sincerity in your voice and the way your eyes look at him. The Rito feels a strange tingly sensation within him and isn’t quite sure how to respond, so he resorts to promptly turning around and preparing his gale. “The pleasure is mine, (Name).” He says, before raising his wings to the air.

“Will I see you again?!” You suddenly shout, almost unwillingly. The words leave your mouth faster than you can think and it makes the Rito stop his departure before it truly began. He glances at you and regains some of that sarcastic attitude he is so renowned for. “Perhaps. But it would certainly take a while.” His beak turns into a smirk and his eyes shine in playfulness. “Say, a hundred years or so. But I doubt you’d manage to wait that long,” he jokes, his words sounding silly to himself as well. In reality, though, he isn’t sure, but he would be lying if he said he didn’t wish to see you again.

“I’ll wait. I’ll wait for you as long as I have to. Who knows, maybe I’ll need more scales in the future.” The tone of your voice is similar to his, but in truth, you are somewhat serious. This cocky Rito somehow stuck to you and for some reason, the thought of not seeing him again saddened you in a way. Revali shakes his head and chuckles slightly.

“I suppose we’ll both have to wait and see. Regardless, I’ll gladly demonstrate my superior skills to you in the future.” And with that, he summoned that familiar updraft and soared to the sky, this time flipping and gliding around more than it was necessary. His movements were precise, effortless, perfect. Your (E/C) eyes shined in awe as you witnessed his dance in the sky. The sight of you, completely captivated by his elegant maneuvers, greatly amused him.

“I’ll have you know, (Name), my greatness far exceeds that which you currently see!”

With one final flip and look into your eyes, the Rito Champion changed his course toward Hyrule, leaving your awestruck form behind. “Until next time!” You blinked a couple of times, still holding the scale close, your tail lightly swinging below the surface. Even when Revali’s form got farther away, you found yourself staring at the silhouette of the Rito. There was just something about him. Something special under that arrogant shell. You smile to yourself and prepare to dive into the water.

“What a showoff…”

With all that has occurred, you can’t help but think that him escaping your deadly grip the first time you met was a good thing. And if it really took a full century to simply witness those splendid movements again, you would gladly, and patiently, wait for his return on this very beach.

#loz #legend of zelda #breath of the wild #loz botw #legend of zelda breath of the wild #loz revali #revali #legend of zelda revali #loz revali x reader #revali x reader #loz x reader #legend of zelda x reader #reader insert

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random-imagines-blog · 3 years

Text

Creeping in My Soul {Zacky Vengeance x Demon!Female!Reader}

Requested by: Anonymous Wordcount: 2230 Summary: You find out an interesting secret about your real identity. How is your boyfriend going to take it? Trigger Warnings: Swearing. Notes: HAPPY BIRTHDAY!!

You gave your boyfriend a wave and a kiss goodbye over Facetime, and hesitantly pressed the large red button. You always hated to let him go, but you knew that you had to. He was three hours ahead of you and it was nearly midnight where he was. One last show tomorrow, playing with the rest of his band - the rock group Avenged Sevenfold. Millions of fans world-wide and a sold out American tour. And then after the show, he would be getting on a plane and coming all the way back home to you, in sunny California. But there was one big problem with him coming back home to the house that you shared. It was that you have changed. No, you were still changing. And you didn’t know how he was going to react to seeing it.

It had started just a month ago when you were brushing out your hair. It was just like any other day really, you were getting ready for work, applying just a touch of make up, pulling the comb through your hair in an attempt to make it look less like you had just woken up. But it kept getting snagged on something. It kept bumping into something and it hurt a lot whenever it did. God, how you had panicked then, as you touched the top of your head and felt two protruding bumps. Did you have a tumor? Two tumors, growing out the top of your head? You instantly called your doctor, who wasn’t able to get you in for a couple of days. That didn’t ease your worrying. But the fact that they told you to go straight to the emergency room if you started feeling a headache coming on, any sort of dizziness, helped a touch. It was an option. And other than the bit of pain up there, surface and not internal, you were feeling fine. You tried to sweep your hair over the protrusions, but ended up putting on a headband instead, which pushed on them uncomfortably but at least it kept them out of sight.

The next day, you woke up to a sharp pain on your lip. You must have bit it in your sleep. That’s happened before, but this was a rather deep cut, given the fact that the taste of blood on your lips was rather potent. When you went into the bathroom to see if you could find it, you found that not only were the bumps on your head more tender, and that something - some sort of bone was poking out of it, but your teeth - they seemed sharper, especially the canines. You went to touch what was coming out of your head, and your nails nicked your skin. Your usually bitten down nails were long, and they were sharp. Like a stiletto shape you’d seen on instagram, ready to claw someone’s eyes out. And that was a very violent thought for the likes of you.

Everything in your mind was telling you to head for the hospital and now. To book some sort of surgery to get your head fixed. But you take a deep breath. You call into work, saying that you can’t come in, you’re taking a sick day, and then you take a ride over to your parents house. At least that way, if you did go to the hospital, you wouldn’t have to be alone. You were terrified to be alone, but you couldn’t bring yourself to call your boyfriend and make him worried. It would only end up with him coming to you, throwing off the tour, disappointing so many people, just to sit at a bedside and hope for the best.

Your parents were a lot less concerned than you thought that they would be. Your father looked over your head, prodded at the tender skin. You hissed at the pain, and you wanted to lash out, strike him for doing that, but a stern look that he gave you made you calm down. It was like he had known your thoughts. Then he sat down, beside your mother, reminding you of the way that they used to talk to you when they had bad news. And you thought you had been the one going to them with the bad news.

But you were getting more than a ‘Our dog went off to a farm to frolick in the fields’ sort of talk.

“Okay, ha ha, I’m a demon child, great time for jokes mom,” You said, crossing your arms in front of you. “Is this some sort of genetic disease that I’m not aware of?”

But they were serious. They were avoiding your eye, but it wasn’t because they were trying to withhold the truth. They were ashamed of the truth. “We should have told you a long time ago... but we’re not your real parents, my love. We were unable to have children, and there you were - a gift. Demons .... they aren’t as bad as people make them out to be. You could never be bad.”

And they continued to talk to you about it throughout the day and the night, convincing you to cancel the Doctor’s appointment because it was risky to have people find out. The sharper teeth and the longer nails could just be an aesthetic choice but the horns - you’d have to learn how to keep them hidden from the public. Hats would cover it somewhat, or you could learn glamour magic, something that had been helping demons on earth for millenia. It would take a lot of practice in a mirror, but it was something that you were just going to have to do in order to keep on living your life. To keep your job. To keep your friends. And most importantly - to keep Zacky.

You had everything set for his return home. It was a late night flight, and he wasn’t getting in until five in the morning, but you had made breakfast for him. French toast was being kept warm in the oven, coffee was being made, you had squeezed some orange juice - you wanted everything to be perfect. Most of the windows had the blinds and the curtains closed, making it a little dark but you had lit some candles to try to set a mood. The sunlight had been bothering you more than usual lately. Despite the California heat, you had been having to wear Zacky’s old hoodies out to go about your day. But at least for now, the sun was still down, and you were able to wear one of your favorite dresses. Which also happened to be his favorite dress.

The front door unlocked, and you heard the rustle and bustle of bags being set down. And then the door closed. A loud yawn as Zacky stepped into the kitchen, probably smelling the coffee. “Ugh, I can never sleep on planes,” He groaned, stumbling in. His eyes looked red and itchy, he must be utterly exhausted.

“Then you had better drink some orange juice instead of the coffee, then we can go to bed right after you finish eating,” You said, putting a glass in front of him. “I missed you.”

“I missed you too.” The first thing that he did was come up to you, and wrap his arms around you in a tired hug. You hugged him back, smelling his aftershave on his neck. Fuck, he smelt so good. You almost started to salivate. Just feeling his body against yours, chest against chest - you had to bite down on your lip to hold in a moan. Your sex drive had been insane lately, another thing that your ‘parents’ had warned you about. He pulled away from you, making you feel just a touch of anger, but it faded quickly. “Why are you wearing a hat inside?” He asked, noticing your beanie.

“Uhh - bad hair day,” You said, quickly. “Don’t worry about what I look like, let’s just eat something.” You gave him a big smooch on the side of his cheek, then hurried to get the food out of the oven. Zacky sat down, dropping the topic since he was so tired, while you put everything in front of him. All the fixings. Syrup, butter, berries, sliced banana, whipped cream, chocolate shavings. You went all in for this welcome home breakfast, figuring that he hadn’t had anything real in weeks. You knew how these boys were. They go on tour, eat nothing but fast food, end up working it all off during one show from all of their running and jumping around. But no doubt the girlfriends were all going to be taking care of them now that they were home. “Eat up, buttercup.”

And he did, fast at first, and then slowed down towards the end as he started to feel full, but his eyes kept looking at you, flattering you. You could feel blood flow to your cheeks, and to other places as you started to clean up, putting dishes into the sink for later tonight. You were ready to sleep the whole darn day away, especially now that you had Zacky back in your bed. You could feel his eyes on the spot of your thighs where the dress ended, where it was dancing around.

“There’s something different about you,” He said, putting down his knife and fork. You took his plate, raising an eyebrow. How could he tell? You adjusted the hat around your head, trying to make sure that the horns weren’t popping out. “What did you do, get a bad hair cut or something? Come on, take the hat off.”

He beckoned you over and you felt like you didn’t have much of a choice. You walked back towards him and he pulled you between the legs of the chair that he was sitting on. It was a rather high bar-stool type chair on the island so you two were identical height right then and there. He took the beanie off of your head and looked over your hair, his eyes going straight to the horns. “What the fuck are those?”

“I - I can explain,” You said, taking the hat back, fidding with the fabric. And so you did, only going through some of the major details because though he was interested, and shocked, Zacky looked too tired to really comprehend what was going on.

“Fuck,” He said, getting to his feet once you were done. “That’s - a lot.”

“Yeah, how do you think I felt?” You shot back, crossing your arms in front of you. You were waiting for the worst to happen. For him to freak out, to leave, or to even throw you out. You wouldn’t blame him for having any of those reactions honestly. You already had a bag packed in the front closet just in case of that very scenerio.

“Come on, let’s go to bed,” He said, putting his arm around your shoulders, and started to lead you into the bedroom. Your smile could not have gotten any bigger. Leave it to your man to accept you just the way that you were. Demon or not.

And he did more than accept you. You two spent a straight up week getting re-acquainted. Or more so, he was finding out more about the demon that you were once you had accepted yourself. Your horns had come in. The skin __around was still tender, but oh the spine-tingling feeling that you got when you let him Zacky rub them. It was such a deeply personal and intimate thing. You wouldn’t ever let anyone else touch your horns. Not for as long as you lived.

Although the whole demon thing had messed with your temper - things like Zacky leaving you to get food or to go to the bathroom had you furious for a couple of seconds - it also amped up your sex drive. He seemed particularly accepting of that bit. When you rode him, both of you sitting up, you on top of him, lifting your lips and driving down, your hands had gone to his back and you had riddled him with little scratches from your nails. He never even minded that. Just hissed with pleasure. It seemed like you were having an effect on him in return. He wanted you all the time.

“I fucking love you,” You said after another rigorous session of love making.

“I fucking love you,” He said in return, still holding you tightly, keeping you in place as he softened inside of you. “How are you a demon when you’re so angelic?”

“I wouldn’t say there’s anything angelic about me after what we just did,” You laughed, rolling off of him. He laughed as well, but pressed kisses to your cheeks, giving you affection even when he wasn’t touching you. No matter what was ahead of you - Hell? - you were more than happy now, and would be as long as you continued to be with the love of your life. Though from the looks of things, he might have a little devil in him too. Definitely a lustful sin behind those eyes.

#Zacky Vengeance #Zacky Vengeance x reader #Zacky Vengeance oneshot #Avenged Sevenfold #Avenged Sevenfold oneshot #a7x #A7x Oneshot #oneshot #one shot #x reader #request #zackyv

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vampirepiggyhunterdefensesquad · 3 years

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personal space 1/2

The crowd around her pulsed, and Gaz again had to physically restrain herself from throwing a punch at the taller man who'd knocked into her arm. She felt content to shoot him a glare, but he didn't even notice.

Sighing deeply, Gaz tried to make herself smaller. She'd never been the tallest person, and even in her late teens, when she was supposed to have finished growing, there was still barely any height difference between her and, well, her middle school self.

The only thing that really made her comfortable in crowds like these was the knowledge that she could easily knock down anyone who got too close. But right now, Gaz couldn't afford to get kicked out. She'd waited in line for almost a week to get into this room, to see the reveal of the newest game console by her favorite brand, and have first dibs on taking one home.

Gaz folded her arms uncomfortably, allowing yet another person to brush into her personal bubble and flinching in discomfort. It wasn't often she willingly subjected herself to such frustration, and the rage was kept simmering somewhere in her mind while she focused on her goal.

Finally-- finally!-- the lights came on and a cheer went up. Gaz squinted and refrained from clapping her hands over her ears. There were so many people in this room. A tingly itch at the ends of her fingers that usually told her she was close to losing her temper began making them twitch. Trying to rid herself of the unpleasant sensation, she rubbed her hands together violently, her elbow narrowly missing the smelly person beside her.

Gaz let out a frustrated sigh that she couldn't even hear over the cheering and clapping, which, horribly, made it feel even worse. Her head felt too hot and her clothes were suddenly itchy and uncomfortable, even though she'd worn her favorite outfit.

She took a step back, trying to get some space, and ran into the person behind her. Her skin screamed in protest, and Gaz tried to catch her breath, but her fists were shaking. She needed an outlet, immediately.

Almost immediately as the thought entered her head, a hand shot out of the crowd, gripping her arm and tugging her towards it. Instinctively, Gaz yanked back at it, desperately happy for something to direct her energy at in order to let out the surge of adrenaline that was flowing through her veins, but whatever it was was really strong, and gently tugged her back. The hand felt. . . strange, and sharper than it should have, even through her long sleeves.

Without fully realizing what she was doing, Gaz allowed herself to be pulled through the crowd. People seemed to move aside to accommodate her--or rather, whoever was leading her, who was pulling her along without much care for the people around them, and seemed to be pushing through violently enough that the crowd was giving them wide berth.

Gaz didn't even have the energy to try to stay. Even the game console she'd wanted so badly faded from the forefront of her mind as the door to exit the auditorium opened in front of her and she slipped through. The grip on her arm finally loosened as she closed her eyes and breathed in the chilly night air.

Once out, Gaz finally saw who had pulled her away so quickly. The relief in her chest did nothing to quell the strange sense of confusion and deja-vu that were bubbling up.

"What are you doing here?"

Zim glared up at her, folding his arms.

"None of your business."

Gaz squinted. Since high school, she'd been seeing less and less of the little alien as her brother had slowly grown out of his obsession. Since his and Dib's graduation, she hadn't seen him at all.

Zim straightened up. "I happened to be passing through and noticed you were about to destroy the building. In my own best interest, I decided I would remove you from the source of your stress." At her dumbfounded expression, he cleared his throat and repeated. "In my own best interest."

"You. . ." Gaz slowly rubbed her fingers up and down her sleeves. The ghost of his firm grip was still there. "You noticed. . . what?"

He snorted. "It was obvious. You were radiating doom in a four human block radius. Anyone with any sense would flee. Apparently, unfortunately, your planet is COMPLETELY devoid of any such sense!!"

"Yeah."

Zim seemed to fidget under her piercing gaze. He opened his mouth to say something else, but met her eyes and was silent.

"What are you doing here?"

"I was interested in the subject of the meeting."

"Which was what?"

Suddenly, Zim glared. "I DON'T HAVE TO TELL YOU ANYTHING!!"

Gaz stepped closer to him, shutting him up again. "Were you . . . following me?"

"WHY would I do THAT??? The almighty ZIMMMM has MUCH better things to do than follow around some pathetic human!!!!" he spat. "Especially humans who don't even--"

He fell abruptly silent, clamping his fists at his sides.

"When's the last time you talked to Dib?"

"HA!!!!!" Zim turned away from her, facing the wall opposite them completely. "The Dib-filth knows better than to show his face around ME."

Gaz suddenly felt. . . something. Maybe it was just the comfort of being away from that crowd, maybe the way her heartrate was calming down and the coldness of the air as oppose to the musty heat of that room was making it easier to focus on the way Zim's shoulders shook.

Slowly, she reached over and, after a moment of hovering, touched the small of his back not covered by his pak.

Zim shuddered at her touch, but she didn't retract her hand and he didn't verbally tell her to get off or do anything else. Gaz bit her lip. She was uncomfortable doing this, she didn't know how to do this.

"The people in there were annoying, huh?"

Zim's head perked up, just a tad.

"Yes. They were disgusting."

"Greasy."

"Smelly."

"Covered in sweat and filth."

Zim turned his head, offering a tiny, mean grin. "Someone should dump your disgusting earth water over them."

Gaz smiled.

"Wanna?"

........

Setting up was much, much easier than Gaz had expected. They'd run to Zim's base, where he hadn't even complained about her following him down below-- which seemed very strange, so she filed it away -- where Zim already had something set up with his ship that was easy enough to modify to carry a ton of water.

Once they'd (definitely illegally) tapped into the pipes and filled it up, Zim pulled Gaz into the voot cruiser with him and took off. She was almost too caught up in the hilarity of the moment to pay attention, but Zim seemed. . . off.

Not in a bad way, necessarily. He was . . . in his element, honestly. When he let out a delighted cackle upon seeing the building that was their destination, Gaz couldn't help but join in, laughing with him, and her sharp eyes did not miss the way he'd looked at her while she did so.

His wig had gotten knocked half-off during the flight, but when Gaz pointed it out to him, thinking he'd want to fix it, Zim didn't seem to care. In fact, upon hearing her say something, he shrugged and simply ripped off his wig, pulled out his contacts, and directed the voot to hover above the building full of filthies.

"How are we gonna get in?" Gaz asked.

"Let's pull the roof off," Zim announced.

She blinked. "Isn't there, like, an easier way?"

"Probably," he said, and proceeded to use the claw handles he'd attached to the voot to rip the roof off.

#zagr #zagf #zim #gaz #invader zim #writing #mine #i created this thing

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lady-o-ren · 4 years

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THE BRIDE

A/N: Ok. I lied. I thought I had to sacrifice the Jamie and Claire threads but really I just chopped the St. Germain one (much heavier in the disciples du mal thingy and witchcraft). Anyway this is a pinch of acotar and some bits from DOA too at the end. There will be mistakes!

______

The bride paces anxiously in her windowless chambers, trampling over the ripped and scattered remains of a once delicate veil. She wears no wedding gown. Has fed it to the hearth fire where the gold silk threads and embroidered pearls ignite the stonewalls in a hellish glow.

She is betrothed to the notorious nobleman The Comte St. Germain. A man of exquisite elegance and roguish charm that many girls can only dream of marrying. But she isn't fooled.

She knows the depths of treachery that dwells in his breast and of the company he keeps that terrorize the dark corners of the city streets of Gaul. That all he wants from her is a woman to serve him on hand and knee, a body and soul to own.

And he has tried to. Bruising her throat and ribs. But she too has marked him ugly and bloody - gouging him from face to chest, her knee rammed between the crux of his thighs. It brings a half grin to her face.

But then she hears the ominous sound of a key sliding into the lock of the lone arched door. She stiffens like a hunted doe, bleeding her bottom lip in wait, until she hears the key jamming, breaking in two.

She shrieks with hysterical laughter if only to know that she can breathe again, clutching her aching sides as she does so. The Comte hears her and pounds the door with his fists as his threats fall loud and rabid.

He wants to bind her arm and foot. Shatter her bones beneath his boots. He wants to belt her flesh raw, slap and bite her pretty face. Wants to -

Her laughter chokes with bile, and her lily-white hands press painfully hard against her tender lips, as she wills herself to calm.

She'll be faster, smarter, more ruthless than he. She'll throw him in the fire to roast black like the swine he is, herself too if she must. She'll -

She's barely caught her breath when the fire in the hearth dwindles to sapphire embers, illuminating the chamber like the belly of a twilight sea. The bride's heart leaps to her throat, throbbing with every skittering, piercing beat, as the stones of the hearth quake and unravel, parting for a cloaked figure to step through the impossible opening.

A silky mist whispers over him coming from the dark chasm behind and he lifts the dark green hood from his face revealing, undoubtedly, by the soft curve of his ears, a Fae Lord.

He looks as if he's flown on a thundercloud to find her, his mane wild and dark as elk's blood that ripples down the broad strength of his shoulders like the great tides of the sea. His eyes like the sickle moon are near black with ire as they linger on the iridescent bloom of bruises on her flesh and the thinness of the chemise she wears. But when his gaze meets hers they glimmer with startling tenderness and passion, and a love that burns brighter than the blue flames now writhing at his feet.

The Lord's voice is low and ragged from unbridled emotion when he speaks yet he manages to smile wryly, "Should'a bride of such beauty be mournin' on her wedding day?"

She'd forgotten how deeply she could hate him. Love him. All at once. That - That -

"You - you - Oh, Jamie!" She throws herself in her only beloved's arms that grip her just as fiercely, and he cries, "Claire, mo chridhe," into her curls, long and lovely as a willow's leaves.

She soaks in his warmth and strength that wraps around her like a shield, breathing in the scent of him - balsam trees and dewy grass, sun-warmed skin that tastes of woodsmoke and spring rain, and the pungent muskiness of exhaustion as he trembles to the bone with relief.

"How?" She mouths against his chest heaving strong as a bellow beneath her cheek.

He nuzzles softly at her crown, hands soothing warmth down her back then shoulders, holding her slightly away.

"Our hearts are forever bound to one another, I've told ye so before."

The night they met when he first made her laugh and she dared to kiss him along the glittering Seine.

"I could feel yer despair, thought maybe ye were feeling the same pain as I. Regret for how we parted when ye told me ye loved me nae more." He squeezes her shoulders, knowing how she lied but not why. "But I felt it grow weaker day after day, and kent it must be something more. I ken ye told me to leave ye be but I thought ye were dying, my love. I couldna keep away."

Tears gloss her eyes as she bows her head ashamed, so quietly she says, "I thought you wouldn't. I meant to make you hate me."

"Never," he affirms, lifting her chin. "I shouldna have let my temper get the better of me, to keep me from yer side. If I hadn't -"

His mouth tightens as he brushes his knuckles down her cheek, gently thumbing her swollen bottom lip.

He wants to kiss the blood away, the blight that colors her skin. Wants to love her till there's nothing left of them but a single soul. . .

But the door is finally forced open and he comes face to face with the Comte St. Germain.

The Fae Lord erupts with rage violent and luminous as a lightning bolt, cracking the stones that encircle them all, as he claws at the air and twists his wrist. The Comte stupidly, desperately, reaches for the iron forged rapier strapped to his waist, beseeching the protection of the wickedly divine that he's pledged his soul to, but instead of deliverance, he's sent flying into the far wall.

His bones shatter with a sickening crunch as blood and strangled screams sputter from his mouth.

"That's enough," Claire says in a moment of pity to her Lord, and with tremendous effort, she pulls him away, leaving the wretched Comte St. Germain gasping for air alone in the cold dark as the walls that he imprisoned her within collapse.

Claire's brought to a small clearing just as dawn slowly breaks across the big sky, a hazy plume of dark grey and lavender, and the barest hint of golden sunlight. The wind is chilly and tugs at her hair but she savors its biting caress that shudders down her spine, intoxicating her lungs. She walks enjoying the feel of the tall grass tickling her fingertips and the dirt soft beneath her bare feet, but she finds a gaping absence at her side.

She glances over her shoulder where Jamie trails behind, watching her with trepidation as an aching question whispers from his mouth.

"Will ye run off again, mo nighean donn? Is this the last I'll see of ye?"

She wraps her arms around herself, curls whisking like dandelion seeds across her lashes and cheeks.

"I didn't run, Jamie."

"Ye did," he reproaches softly, not wanting another fight. "Like a thief in the night with my heart. I gave ye all of me gladly and forever will -"

"But I can't promise you the same." Her bleeding heart lodges thick in her throat and the truth of it all comes pouring out. "Maybe a few decades, a blink in the eye to you, before I wither to decay, and you still beautiful as the day we met."

"That's what's been troublin' ye?" His face is serious, but one corner of his mouth curls up irrepressibly.

"Don't you laugh!" She says furiously.

"I think I will," Jamie smiles widely, and takes a step toward her meaning to kiss the foolishness from her vexing mouth but she takes a step back. He raises an auburn brow daring her to move away from him again and she thrusts her defiant chin high and kicks her left heel back.

What comes next is a flurry of limbs and grunts that leaves Claire breathless with her slender wrists pinned above her head and chrysanthemums crushed in her hair. Her eyes dark as black amber glare into his.

"God's, you are a stubborn wee thing," Jamie admires through his mounting frustration, himself mangled with dirt and grass.

"And you weigh more than a bloody damn bear!" She pants and wriggles beneath him, trying to ignore the spikes of heat rushing through her veins where he's pressed solid and unyielding against her.

"Now get off!"

"Not until ye hear me out, wee besom!"

"What more can be said? Nothing can be done! Love isn't magic, it won't keep the years from taking me from you."

Jamie's face catches fire in the growing morning light, and moves their hands to press hard on the swell of his breast beating the same raw rhythm as hers.

"So long as my body lives, so will yours, mo ghraidh. Though I think ye'd look just as bonny touched like starlight, the years no matter how few, around yer golden eyes. But ye must know," his words fall heavily and he feels her pulse at her wrist give a lurching thump. "That when my body shall cease, yours will as well. It could be this day, tomorrow, maybe centuries or more. The only consequence when ye make a blood vow with a fae."

She blinks up at him, thrumming like a viola. "A blood vow?"

His lips curl shyly and his breath warm as melted butter brushes hers. "It's done when my kind find their mates. A sacred, unbreakable vow that binds two souls in this life and after."

"Like marriage?" She blushes and smiles, the first in so very long, looking lovelier than she ever has to Jamie.

"Aye." He answers simply, low and husky, and finds his courage in three soaring heartbeats.

"My Lady, my Claire, will ye have me as your husband? To serve ye, worship ye, wi' all that I am?"

Tears begin to fall again though she's beaming with joy, tangling her fingers in Jamie's mane as he claims a loving long kiss down the trail of each one.

When he hovers above her lips, they brush his in answer.

"Well I am wearing white."

"Ye won't be wearing a thing if ye say I do."

#...i tried writing something a little different #jamie x claire #outlander #outlander fanfiction #outlander fanfic #the bride

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