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pkg4mumtown · 2 years

Text

Through Glass (Ch. 3)

Rating: M

Summary: You finally learn why you’ve suddenly acquired a new roommate.

A/N: Hey! Thanks for all of the love! Guess who wanted to post this yesterday and forgot to do the art? Yea, me, so I rushed this shit piece of art below. Also, I’m fighting with myself about how this fic is going to end. My original ending is no longer feasible to me because of how much this writing has evolved from my notes. So…apologies ahead of time if this thing crashes and burns LMAO.

Warnings: Angst, Eventual Fluff, Feelings of being watched, Multiversal Stalking, Possessive!Stephen, Eventual body horror, Gender Neutral Pronouns for Reader, No Y/N, First Person POV, What If AU where Reader dies instead of Christine, Strange-Supreme just needs a hug honestly, Stephen in Reader’s universe is a big dummy

Catch up with Chapter 1 / Chapter 2

Just listen to the noises

(Null and void instead of voices)

Before you tell yourself

It's just a different scene

Remember it's just different from what you've seen

-Through Glass by Stone Sour

“Why did you bring him here?” it hissed.

My back couldn’t hit the wall fast enough as reality set in. My chest moved rapidly as I began hyperventilating and still, I couldn’t say anything. But what would I even say right now if I could? This had to have been what Oscar saw, though he had been far more reactive than I was currently.

Annoyed at my lack of answer, the being moved forward in an attempt to touch its side of the reflection only to hiss and draw back as those symbols that Doctor Strange conjured appeared, then disappeared as the monster retreated.

“Cute,” it laughed, sounding like a hundred voices talking over each other at once; flicking its wrist nonchalantly.

I watched the golden symbol get eaten by flames from the outside edges to the inside edges in an instant. Strange wasn’t kidding when he said that the being wouldn’t fear him by himself. That’s when I truly realized how screwed I was. I gripped the corner of the wall as I fought the tears pooling in my eyes. I wanted to run, but where the hell could I hide in my own house? And if it was so easy to destroy the wards, then what was stopping it from coming through and finding me if I did hide?

“I know you can hear me...” the sing-songy voice echoed in my bathroom, my name falling from its terrifying maw.

“Please, please don’t hurt me—I—,” I was cut off by my own sobs bubbling up out of my throat.

“Hurt you?” The monster asked, taken aback. All at once, the anger it had possessed moments ago vanished, and its shoulders hunched over, “Why would I—? No, my love, please don’t cry,” it seemed to beg. “Not again,” I heard it whimper softly. Seeing my continued distress seemed to snap it out of its own feelings, placing a hand on the glass and urging me, “You need to calm down, you’re breathing too fast,” it pleaded, repeating my name over and over.

“How do you know my name‽ Why does everyone know my god damn name‽” I screamed inching my way toward the door to exit the bathroom.

“Because I know you a—and you know me,” it soothed with its disembodied cacophony of voices.

All of a sudden, it stepped back from the mirror, curling in on itself as if it were in pain and struggling. I soon realized it actually was in pain and struggling as it started howling and contorting its face, as if it was trying to contain something. Bright yellow and red energy swirled around it, along with various other things that I couldn’t quite make out, seemingly coming to a finality until the mirror was empty again.

After a few beats of silence, my name floated through the mirror; more distant than before but growing louder and closer. I was halfway out of the bathroom when a gentle voice stopped me.

“Wait, please,” it cooed.

My eyes closed tightly, refusing to look in the mirror. The voice was no longer disembodied and echoing with a thousand different voices. Fuck, it sounded so familiar.

“I’m sorry for scaring you, I—please look at me,” it—he pleaded.

With my chin still wobbling out of fear, I sniffled my sobs away and cracked my eyes open. In the center of the mirror was a much smaller person—well, smaller than the monster, which had taken up the entire mirror—walking toward the mirror. The mirror warped and shifted around him until it was no longer a reflection of my bathroom, but a glowing, magenta grid behind him.

“Wha—,” the words died in my throat as I got a good look at him.

Two deeply haunted, sunken eyes stared back at me, eyes that seemed like they hadn’t had a restful night of sleep in years. The same unruly brown hair as the monster littered his head and face, though it was much neater now. The off-red tunic actually fit this form, no longer ripped at the shoulders. They were…the same?

Wait. Those gray streaks. Those cheekbones that stood proudly on his face, albeit on a much slimmer face than I had just seen...

“Doctor Strange?” I whispered in realization.

“By Vishanti, you hadn’t called me that in years but, oh, how I’ve missed it anyway,” he sighed wistfully, letting a longing smile adorn his features.

“W—what do you mean? It’s all I’ve ever called you,” I gulped.

“No, darling. My version of you, my love, they called me ‘Stephen’. ‘Doctor Strange’ was reserved for when I was in trouble,” he chuckled.

“What the hell are you talking about?” I asked incredulously. “Fuck, I—I can’t do this. I’m going fucking crazy,” I shakily admitted, my breathing picking up again. I brought my hands to my head, suddenly light headed, and swiftly exited the bathroom that felt far too small, now.

Doctor Strange or Stephen followed me through the reflections as I just about ran to my bed. I dove into the blankets, burrowing my head in the pillows.

What the fuck was going on? The question made tears well up in my eyes again. The situation was all too overwhelming and unexplainable for me to process in one day. From Doctor Strange telling me some uber powerful being existed on the other side, to finding out that being was him? I did not have the energy to get mind-fucked today.

“Sweetheart…” I heard him whisper, making me turn my head and seeing him out of the corner of my eye in the reflection of the cup of water resting on my nightstand.

“Doctor—Stephen, I’m sorry. I can’t—I need to wrap my head around this,” I managed to choke out before I was reduced to sobs as my emotions got the better of me.

He was silent and for a second, through my emotional haze, I figured he’d disappeared and didn’t want to deal with the crying. I wouldn’t blame him.

“I’m sorry for scaring you,” his voice resonated sadly, “If you need—or when you’re ready to talk just…I can hear you so…call out for me.”

I didn’t answer him, my only response being sniffles and gasps for air as I drifted off into a crying-induced sleep.

Doctor Strange woke up with a start, panting and clutching his sheets as he sat up in bed, immediately reaching out but no one was there. Levi bristled at being moved so suddenly, moving up Strange’s torso and applying pressure so he would lay back down. Annoyed, Strange got out of bed and chastised his cloak.

He opened and closed his fists slowly to get them warm and used to movement after waking up. He rolled his neck, grunting at the pops and sighing as he stretched. Strange hesitated as he always did before performing this spell but powered on anyway. He quickly drew the beginning symbols of the spell, watching the spinning disc of what looked like film in front of him. Finding what he was looking for, he yanked out the moving picture and crushed it in his hand.

There was no need for you to see that, he thought to himself.

I walked out of my apartment building dressed to the nines and grinning widely when I saw Stephen standing there waiting for me in a tuxedo with the passenger side door already open.

“Hey, you,” I took his outstretched hand and hummed happily as he pulled me in and pressed himself against me at the same time.

Stephen simply stared with a love-struck grin on his face.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, feeling my face get hot at his attention, turning to hide it in his shoulder.

Stephen didn’t let me, instead taking my chin between his fingers and lining our gazes up again,” I think I just had a mild cardiac event,” he teased.

“A heart attack, doctor?” I rolled my eyes.

“What can I say? You’re breathtaking,” He smirked, dropping his head until his lips met mine.

I wound my arms around his neck, smiling at his urgency.

“Do we have to go?” He groaned as our lips separated. “We can stay in, order Chinese, maybe a little desert,” he hummed, punctuating “desert" with a squeeze.

“Stephen, not only are you receiving an award, but Christine will literally kick your ass if you don’t show up this time—and, I’ll help her,” I squinted at him.

“Oh, will you now, doctor?” He dropped another kiss to my lips before I pushed him toward his car.

The roads were slick and windy as we chatted, so focused on the truck in front of us that—

My body lurched forward out of control, forcing me to sit up without consciously thinking of it. I sat there. panting and sweating with my fists clenching tightly around nothing. My adrenaline was sky high, my eyes looking around wildly as I tried to get my breathing under control. I tried to settle my stomach, which felt like it had just tried to exit through my mouth like I’d just dropped on a tall rollercoaster.

“What the hell was that? So fucking weird...” I finally found my voice, still unsure of what had just taken place.

“What was weird? Bad dream?” I heard Stephen speak up next to me.

I screamed and covered my mouth, burying my face into my hands and scrubbing my face roughly, “Fuck! Stephen!”

Since his terrifying revelation in my bathroom mirror, I had been ignoring Stephen for a few days, refusing to acknowledge his presence with words, not that I didn’t see him all over my house anyway. I didn’t know how to process his presence, hoping it was a shitty dream, but as I continued seeing him pop up more openly the last few days...maybe Iwas the shitty dream. Though, apparently, I had forgotten that he didn’t need me to acknowledge him for him to speak. So, when he finally decided to stop being ignored and make himself known, just now, it’s safe to say I was a little startled.

“I—I don’t know,” I admitted, glancing at Stephen’s human form in my glass of water on the bedside table.

“You don’t know if it was a bad dream, or you don’t know what was weird?” He pressed with a twinge of disbelief.

“I don’t remember the dream…” I muttered, trying my best to recollect what was a hyper-vivid dream as I experienced it. I should be able to remember it. It felt so real.

“Uh, if it made that much of an impression, you have to remember something—.”

“I don’t remember, okay!?” I snapped, groaning into my hands once more before sighing. Lifting my head up so quickly that I felt a crackle, I turned toward him with an annoyed frown, “Were you watching me sleep?”

“No,” he said all too quickly. “Yes. Not really,” I raised my eyebrow at him flipping back and forth between his words. “Only because you screamed in your sleep. I was worried,” he finally settled on his story with a shrug.

“Gee, thanks,” I huffed and got up to wash the sweat and sleep off of my face.

“Oh, don’t be like that,” his voice followed me all the way to the bathroom. “You’ve been ignoring me for days and I’ve given you your time to think about what’s going on. If you let me explain, it will make much more sense.”

“Can I, like, feel human first?” I snapped, reaching over to turn the shower on. “Preferably without your prying eyes?”

“Not the first time I’ve seen you first thing in the morning, love,” Stephen smirked, dropping his gaze to my oversized t-shirt.

I stopped what I was doing to throw a glare at the mirror.

“Okay, okay. You’re not a morning person in any universe, I guess,” he conceded with his hands up.

I flipped the mirror off and got ready for my shower.

With caffeine finally in hand, I plopped myself on my couch after making sure all my blinds were drawn to avoid anyone seeing me talking to my TV. As soon as I sat, Stephen appeared on my TV with the same magenta glow behind him. With a disgusted, insulted scoff, he crushed the ward on the TV as easy squashing an annoying bug.

“So—.”

I held my finger up to silence him, chugging a decent amount of the drink in my hand. Once I swallowed, I turned my wrist and flashed him a thumbs up.

“What do you know of the multiverse?” He questioned.

“I’m gonna have to stop you there and ask you to dumb it down. I barely know about my own universe, buddy,” I interrupted, something he was most certainly glaring at me for. “It’s like—the theory that what? Like there are multiple alternate universes existing together at the same time?”

“Sure, close enough,” Stephen shrugged. He sighed, pondering how to start, so he decided to go with an introduction. “I understand that I scared you before and I’m so sorry for that. It takes a good amount of effort to keep my natural form these days. I came in too hot and it was extremely overwhelming. So, with that…I’m Doctor Stephen Strange, but from a different universe—”

I raised my hand right away, making Stephen sigh begrudgingly, “Yes?”

“Thank you for the apology, one. Two, why is your universe geometric and hot pink?”

Stephen knitted his brows together in general confusion as to what kind of question that was. He turned, looking behind him and back at me, “First of all, it’s not hot pink. Secondly, I’ll get to that later.”

“I’m just sayi—”

“Anyway!” he interrupted. “Back to the explanation so you can stop ignoring me like an annoying spam call.”

I rolled my eyes at his comparison but waved for him to continue.

“I know how this is going to sound, but in my universe and so many others, you and I are together—I’ve checked. And in universes where we aren’t, it’s because one of us died early. It only led me to conclude that we’re drawn together across universes, almost like—.”

“—Soulmates,” I finished.

“Something like that. It’s a bit much to call it that, I know…”

“I’m talking to an alternate version of a sorcerer through my TV. There are stranger, more far-fetched ideas than soulmates,” I waved my arms in emphasis on “soulmates". “So, what happened in your universe, then? Where am I?” I asked him.

Stephen was eerily silent, taking in shaky breaths with closed eyes; clearly trying to remain in control.

“If you don’t want to talk about it…”

Without warning, he clenched his teeth groaned in pain as blood-red scales flitted across his face, making him clutch his cheek in pain with red, scaled claws. As fast as it happened, it disappeared, ending with Stephen back to human form and pressing his hands into his face and fingers into his eyes.

“Your hands…” I set my drink down on my coffee table and approached the TV to get a closer look.

“What about them?” He questioned, still breathing abnormally but relatively under control now. He pulled his hands away from his face to examine them.

“Nothing.”

“Okay?” He asked slowly.

“Strange, my Strange—ew, that’s weirdly possessive of someone I don’t know—whatever, his hands are scarred badly, and they shake constantly.”

“Nerve damage?” Stephen hummed, smirking to himself at your dismissal of your universe’s Strange.

“I heard that he was in a car accident and couldn’t be a surgeon anymore.”

Stephen scoffed, my eyes narrowing in to where his eyes were watering.

“What?” I pressed.

Stephen sniffled, shook his head, and wiped his eyes with his thumb and middle finger, “Where do you work? What did you go to school for?”

I was annoyed at him ignoring my question but humored him anyway and told him, “Why?”

“We ended up at Columbia together for med school and, oh, did I fall hard,” he smiled.

“Well, now I know you’re lying. I’m not smart enough to be a doctor. I changed majors because of it,” I snorted.

Stephen growled softly, “I hated it when you doubted yourself like that in my universe, so I won't allow you to speak about yourself like that in this one.”

I bit my lip in an effort to keep my mouth shut, clearly having said the same thing to him a bunch in his universe enough to tick him off.

He gathered his thoughts again and continued, “I was an arrogant prick when we met, and you wouldn’t put up with my bullshit for a second. You begrudgingly accepted my friendship after a while, and then we started something physical during our residency at New York Presbyterian. We finished our residencies at roughly the same time since you specialized in—.”

“—Pediatric surgery,” I interrupted.

“How—how do you know that?” He looked taken aback.

“I don’t know. Well, when I was younger, I entertained the idea of becoming a doctor in pediatrics but like I said…things changed.”

“But you said pediatric surgeon, just now. How did you know that specifically?”

“I—I don’t…”

“Do you dream?” He interjected.

“Like while sleeping? Yea, I think so. I have trouble remembering my dreams now, even some that I held onto when I was way younger, but I know it’d be easier if I wrote it down immediately when I woke up. I kind of attributed it to getting old,” I chuckled.

“But remember, you couldn’t even tell me what you dreamed about this morning. And dreams…dreams are the window to alternate universes. You should be dreaming about us in every other universe. I know I do, and if I do, then I know he does.”

“I just…when it’s happening it’s so vivid that I know I should remember them, but I just can’t.”

Stephen was silent again and I knew, now, from experiencing two of him that it meant he was problem solving. Stephen scowled before erupting into a flurry of cycling creatures around his body, the energy seeping out of his body as he failed to contain himself, “That. Fucking. Snake,” Stephen growled, baring sharp, jagged teeth.

I jumped back from the TV like something was going to come through, walking quickly backwards until my legs hit the couch; wanting to sink into the pillows. We made brief eye contact and then the TV suddenly went dark, leaving me in silence as I wondered what in the hell had just set him off.

“Stephen?” I called out softly, sitting up straighter on the couch in curiosity.

No response.

When he didn’t return on his own for a few minutes, I was standing back up and making my way to the TV. I pressed a hand to the screen, not caring about the inevitable handprint I’d have to clean later.

“Stephen.”

“I’m sorry,” reverberated throughout the room.

“It’s okay, come back. It’s okay,” I whispered.

The TV rippled, revealing Stephen coming back into focus, still absorbing the last of his creatures. His eyes fluttered shut, neck stretching to the side as a stray tentacle absorbed into his neck and shoulder.

My mouth suddenly went dry at the sight of his softened features and full lips as the last of the creatures disappeared with a dull glow. Strangely, the more glimpses of his creatures I saw, the less scary it became. Plus, if that tentacle was part of the same curious one that liked to follow me around the past few weeks, we were too well acquainted for me to be frightened of it at this point.

Stephen’s eyes flitted open, “If you keep staring at me like that, you’re going to drool.”

My mouth snapped shut as that arrogant, flirty smirk flash across his face; the same one I’d seen from the other Strange.

“Shut up,” I mumbled. “Are you good?”

“I’m…okay,” he answered cautiously. “They’re very reactive to emotions.”

“And that was not a good emotion, I’m guessing?”

“Definitely not. Um…” he cleared his throat, “…I have a theory and I can’t really test it without him finding out about it. I can cloak my presence in various ways in your universe but the second I try any other spell, especially like the one I’m thinking of, he will know something big has arrived. Cloaking spells are generally hard to detect for a reason.”

“And your theory?”

“That he’s erasing your dreams of our alternate universes together. For what reason, I don’t know, but he clearly didn’t want you to know him. It’s aggravating and highly unfair to you,” he snarled.

“The universe had other ideas, though, because I, quite literally, ran into him shortly after you ‘moved in’,” I held my fingers up with air quotes.

“You can’t escape fate,” he droned ominously.

“Why—um—why is it aggravating? I mean it’s invasive and totally not ethical without my permission. And I feel grossly taken advantage of, but why were you ready to unleash hell for it?”

“He’s directly avoiding the plans the universe has for you both and if he and I are the same, I’m sure it’s some self-righteous bullshit. But I lost everything for you and while I probably wouldn’t do it again because of the ramifications I know of now, it is deeply insulting to me that he won't even keep you in his life,” he growled, his emotions—and by association, his creatures—seeping through again as his voice took on gravelly and hissing undertones.

“What happened, Stephen?”

He took a second to reel his monsters back in, his voice evening out, “I—the reason—the reason he has scars, and I don’t. The scars and his hands had to be why he became a sorcerer in the first place. Me, I—I had you in the car with me and y—you—,” he stopped abruptly, chin wobbling as he avoided crying, but it didn’t work. Slowly but surely, tears trailed down his cheeks; prompting a tentacle to poke out from his neck and wrap around his neck and torso comfortingly. “—you died in the crash. But you didn’t have to, he’s proof that you didn’t have to die!” he wailed.

I let him take his time and regain his composure so he could continue.

“I moved on for years, became a sorcerer out of grief and the Stephen Strange curse to want to fix everything. One of the nights of the anniversary of your death, I went back and tried to prevent it. I watched you die over and over,” his voice shuddered. “My mentor tried to stop me because your death couldn’t be changed, it had to happen in my universe, and I couldn’t accept it. I escaped to the far past and sought out the power to break an absolute point. As it turns out, she split me into two Stephens. The other half of me never sought out to fix your death.”

“So, the creatures? That’s how you got your power?” I wondered.

“Correct,” he shot me a watery smile, proud of how quickly I caught on, “I found myself at an ancient library run by Master O'Bengh, who nicknamed me ‘Armani’ upon meeting me. I absorbed them, so many of them, for a long time. I didn’t even realize I had been slowing time for myself until I came out and saw O'Bengh on his death bed. When I felt I was ready, I wanted to go back and O’Bengh told me I still had to absorb the other half of me. And I did,” Stephen paused, mournfully silent for the side of him who knew better than to attempt what he’d done. “I broke the absolute point and brought you back, but I had destroyed the universe as a result.”

My hand flew up to cover my mouth at the realization that he had destroyed his entire universe for me—well, his version of me.

“I had to watch you die—but terrified at the sight of me—one last time in my arms. That image of you will haunt me for the rest of my life. I created this hot pink sphere to keep the dying universe from consuming me, too,” he hoped the little joke would bring a smile to my face, but his own smirk fell when he saw how concerned and shocked I was. “I’ve done awful things and I’m not excusing that. I’m trying to be better. I prevented the destruction of the multiverse just recently, and I know that doesn’t mean much, but I—I just wanted to see you. I thought I deserved that much,” he sighed.

He destroyed an infinite amount of matter for one more minute with the love of his life. I should be horrified. I should lock myself away in a non-reflective room for the rest of my life. I should. I should.

But…

I felt bad for him. He was right about one thing. He did everything he could to save the person he loved, meanwhile this other version of him was invading my mind and deleting himself from it. It was infuriating. Who was he to decide what I could and couldn’t see?

“Stephen,” I whispered, bringing my hand up to the screen where his cheek was. His eyes were glossy with tears. “I’m here.”

At my words, his face crumbled; fighting the sobs wracking his body. The TV rippled like before and I was afraid that he would disappear again until the screen gave way. I gasped, fearing something had broken. My hand passed hesitantly through the screen like water, eventually landing on the side of Stephen’s face. He jolted in surprise, opening his red, swollen eyes with a sharp pant. His bubble was cold and his hands even colder as they wrapped around mine and pressed my palm firmly against his face. His face nestled into my warm skin like a touch starved puppy.

“I’m here, Stephen. I’m here.”

A/N 2: For clarity:

Stephen = Strange-Supreme

Strange = Dr. Strange in reader’s universe

Chapter 4

#stephen strange x reader #doctor strange x reader #gender neutral reader #strange supreme x reader #my art #marvel fanfiction #series: through glass

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darkpoisonouslove · 1 year

Note

🥀 favorite angst quote from a published fic

🍎 favorite angst quote from a wip

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip

🥀 favorite angst quote from a published fic

sorry for quoting half the story

Griffin had conflated her refusal to give the three young witches a chance–for her own peace of mind–with lack of belief in her. A horrible oversight that had hung over their heads for far too long. Especially in the face of their possible death. Protecting their hearts would hardly matter if one of them stopped beating soon.

“I actually wanted to talk about us.” Faragonda hesitated, fingers falling motionless at the windowsill at the threat of pricking herself to blood on Griffin’s dismissal. As if the years of silence didn’t ring hollow in her chest where she’d stuffed her passive hope instead of the words Griffin had refused her. This could be her last chance. Their last chance. “I missed you.”

Griffin turned at that, her lips parted like she hadn’t decided what would be allowed to leave them. Faragonda wasn’t sure if the witch wouldn’t laugh at her.

“Jumping from my biggest mistake right to the second best?” she asked instead and the forced amusement of the words was like a slap in the face. Maybe it would’ve been better if she’d laughed at her. “If you’re trying to make me feel better, Fara,” the pet name made her heart flutter, “it’s not working.”

- from Peace and Quiet (revamped)

🍎 favorite angst quote from a wip

“So wonderful to see you,” Marion pulled off a smile not any different from those with which she regarded her counselors and allies, yet it was too natural to feel anything but fake and grotesque.

They were not supposed to be this used to seeing her on their side, in their home, at their breakfast table.

She could nod stiffly, keep to mirroring Oritel whose presence wasn’t bothersome to Marion even now that his body language was that of a statue and his aura – dark like a storm cloud. But that she could have done in her room, by herself. She’d already troubled them all with her presence.

“You’ve seen me every day for the past three months. There’s no need for pleasantries to convince me of your hospitality.”

She wouldn’t blame them for being sick of having to look at her. She herself was sick of it.

- from The Company of Light Trying to Have One Normal Breakfast

🍌 favorite funny quote from a wip

Mike made it stoically through her outpour of anxiety and surprised her with a sigh of relief once she slowed down to take a breath. “And here I thought I wouldn’t be very helpful with all the magic-related concerns you were bound to have. I can definitely do emotional regulation and boy talk.”

Bloom laughed so hard her eyes filled with tears.

“Listen, Bloom, the odds are stacked perfectly in your favor. If you do anything that makes your classmates look at you weird, you just tell them that’s how we do things on Earth. How are they going to know you’re making it up? You might even set a new trend or two.”

Bloom almost choked on the giggles bursting from her. She couldn’t help it. The image of everyone watching her stumble into every single piece of furniture in her way like it was some kind of elaborate Earth ritual was certainly something. She could even get Stella and the girls in on her act to mess with their classmates.

“And you tell prince Sky that your dad taught you to always step on the toes of your dance partners to weed out the ones that aren’t gentlemen enough to pretend nothing happened.”

Bloom coughed, her lungs struggling for precious air. “You’re the best dad in the whole universe, dad.”

- from the Winx rewrite, 1x03, "Draw Your Wings"

#winx club #winx griffin #winx faragonda #winx marion #winx bloom #winx mike #wc rewrite #my fanfic #snippet #ask #her-majesty-wears-jeans

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fairyoftbz · 3 years

Text

comfort | l. sangyeon

☁ pairing: bf!sangyeon x fem!reader ☁ wc: 1.3k ☁ synopsis: you come home from work furious, and sangyeon does his best to calm you down. ☁ genre: fluff, comfort, domestic ☁ tw: swear words, y/n is angry at the world ☁ a/n: this is a self-indulgent fic because my boss fucking annoys me at work and I cba of her petty ass 🙄 oh to get comforted by sangyeon honestly... ☁ requested: no!

╰☆☆☆☆╮

“I’m fucking tired of all this shit!” you cursed as you slammed the front door shut, sending your purse and jacket flying out of pure frustration.

Locking the door in an angry movement, you got even hotter under the collar when your heels didn’t want to leave your feet, your uneven balance making you stumble on air and almost fall on the floor. Once you were finally rid of your shoes, you felt like walking on clouds, but this was not enough to reduce your wrath.

“Woah, woah, woah. Easy there, love,” Sangyeon, your boyfriend emerged from the kitchen in the corridor, blinking in confusion at your unusual angry attitude.

Your eyes were close to glowing red, steam practically going out of your ears, which was not a good sign at all. You rarely got angry, so it must have been something pretty upsetting and important to send you in a fit of rage like this one. The sight of your boyfriend made you sharply inhale as if you wanted to control yourself in front of him, trying your best to channel your anger.

“What’s wrong, Y/N?” Sangyeon risked asking the question, getting ready for you to yell out all your frustration at him, but he was wrong. You remained silent, chewing over your anger with a deep frown on your face, eyebrows almost touching. In all honesty, he would have preferred you screaming at the world rather than becoming as mute as a grave.

“This-” you wanted to curse out your colleague, the main reason for your anger, but remained civil, feeling like swear words weren’t even enough to get all the anger you had for her out of your body. “This fucking colleague of mine “accidentally” deleted the Excel folder I spent hours working on for our trimestral project next week. I had lunch after yelling at her and went to my boss's office after my break, only to have him blaming me for what she did!” you yelled out in a hoarse voice the rest of your sentence, emphasising the pronouns as your hands started shaking, the tears flooding your eyes immediately after a choked sob slipped past your pursed lips.

“And then,” your voice was unsteady, looking at your boyfriend through your blurry eyes, pointing the door as if your colleague was here, “when I get out of work to come home, I see those two good-for-nothing idiots flirting and swooning over the other like the fucking disgusting couple they are.”

Sangyeon breathed in deeply, brows slightly furrowed, dismayed at the situation you got unfairly put in. He placed the piece of cloth he used to dry the dishes with on his shoulder and gently approached you as if he was scared of getting rejected. Your shoulders subsided when he rested his palm on the side of your neck, his thumb gently caressing the edge of your jaw back and forth.

“Sangyeon, I’m so tired of this, I don’t know what to do,” you desperately struggled to mumble, this situation affecting you way more than you wanted, but it was hard not to. Your boyfriend rested his other hand on your shoulder, gently pulling you to him. Subconsciously, you wrapped your arms around his middle and closed your eyes, letting the tears wet his t-shirt as you tried to focus on him instead of your issue.

But it was almost impossible, this issue had you really worried. Deep down, you knew that your boss wouldn’t hesitate to fire you instead of whatever your colleague was for him, even if she was less qualified and talented than you. You should have been more careful, you should have immediately explained the problem to your boss to prevent your colleague from switching the roles and playing the victim, you should have-

“Y/N, I can hear your thoughts from here,” your boyfriend mumbled, his low voice vibrating in your chest as you were still pressed against him. Sighing heavily as an answer, you let his hand rub your back up and down, your breath uneven as you felt the anger boiling back into your veins.

Sangyeon felt you tense against him, so he pulled away and cradled your face in his hands to make you look at him. He offered you a compassionate smile, his thumbs wiping the floods of tears cascading down your cheeks. Your mouth trembled, and Sangyeon locked eyes with you, his hands travelling up your arms as he soothed you.

“Shht, darling,” he whispered as he kissed your forehead, lips lingering on your skin. Your tears redoubled at the display of affection, feeling the exhaustion instead of the anger taking over your body. He wrapped his arm around your neck, his other hand pressing against the back of your head.

“Do you want solutions or comfort?” he mumbled in your ear in a sweet voice, and you pondered his question for a few seconds, trying to collect your thoughts and shift them to something else.

He was always good at comforting you. No matter how bad or angry you felt, Sangyeon was always here to soothe you and bring you back to a calm state, that’s why you could freely let your emotions speak when he was around. Of course, he was sometimes powerless, not really knowing nor able to help, but at least he was here to listen.

“Comfort, please,” you manage to utter, and he pressed you further against his chest, his arms still embracing you tightly.

“We’ll discuss solutions when you’ll feel better and calmer, alright? Now let me make you a cup of tea,” he said, and you whined, nuzzling up to his torso as he was about to pull away. “No? You don’t want one?” he asked, and you shook your head, his arms closing back on your tired figure as he was surprised that you refused your favourite beverage.

“Don’t leave, please,” you felt Sangyeon nod and press his cheek on the side of your head, holding you tight against him.

“Alright, darling,” he seized one of your hands and rested it flat on his chest, feeling his calm heartbeat under your palm. It was something he used to do when you were stressed out, and it always managed to calm you down.

Sangyeon held you until you stopped crying, feeling your trembles come to a halt and find a normal heartbeat again. Eyes puffy and cheeks drenched in salty tears, Sangyeon tilted his head to the side and lovingly smiled at you, letting you rest your head against his collarbone out of exhaustion. Crying drained all your energy because it didn’t happen as often as it used to, but you could always count on your boyfriend to take care of you and handle the aftermath like a pro.

“Come on love, let’s get you to the sofa so I can finish preparing dinner, okay? I won’t let you go to bed with an empty stomach,” you nodded as you sat down on the edge of the couch, Sangyeon crouching down in front of you, his hands on your knees.

“What are you preparing?” you asked, your voice barely coming out of your mouth due to all your crying.

“I’m making your favourite. I figured that you had a rough day since you didn’t text me at lunch like you usually did, so I wanted to cheer you up,” he proudly smiled as he watched your eyes widen, a relieved smile drawing on your face.

“Oh my god I love you, thank you,” you mumbled, and Sangyeon softly chuckled, his hand carding through your hair as strands fell in front of your eyes. He cupped your face with his hand before gently rubbing his nose against yours, earning a smile from you.

“That’s my girl,” he whispered as he stood up, quickly bending back down to press your lips together in a soft kiss.

You offered him a grateful smile, and he winked, making his way back in the kitchen, leaving you appeased in the living room. With his hugs and support, you felt calm and collected for tomorrow, mentally ready to confront your colleague and boss for their mistakes. But for now, your focus was your boyfriend, and you couldn’t wait to spend a lovely evening with him and some good food.

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shorkbrian · 3 years

Text

Stretch and relax pt 2

I have been thirsting.... about Victor.... again.... (pt 1 here)

(Oops forgot to add that Koshka means kitten lol)

He’s noticed you’ve been a bit jumpy around him now. Not that you hadn’t been before, but, well...

Now you try to spend as little time as possible with the man.

And he can’t have that.

“Was I too eager last time? I promise I’ll be more gentle!” He coos from the other side of your door, a pillow under one arm, his other tugging his shirt down as far as he can.

His cock is leaking and heavy between his legs, he’d been thinking about how good you looked today, all that pretty, delicious skin on display, perfect body moving in just the right ways to make him ruin his pants like a teenager. Why use his hand and rely on his imagination when you were just a few doors away?

But you won’t let him in.

“Please?” He pouts, and when met with silence, his frown grows. “I won’t go away until you let me in. I’ll stand here all night and make lots of noise. I just want to relax a little with my favorite little koshka.”

The petname rolled off his tongue with ease, and Victor could almost see your little blush, even though there was a door separating the two of you. Not for long.

“Won’t you let me in? We can give each other massages! If that ends up with us doing something else, I won’t mind-”

The door swings open to reveal your embarrassed little body, frowning so deeply that Victor had a thought to tell you to worry about wrinkles. But at least his teasing and loud voice had worked, spurring you into giving him an opportunity into your room.

“Victo-”

“You’re such a sweetie!” He breezed right past you into your room, depositing his pillow on your bed. A half turn and he was facing you again, a smile on his lips despite your look of aphrenrsive fear. “Want to close the door now? Unless you’d like for people to see us both naked and oiled...”

Again, his desires were achieved with lighthearted teasing - you shut the door so quick that it almost slammed. You’re opening your mouth again, ready to (shyly) ask him to leave, to let you sleep in peace, but Victor has other plans.

And they’re quite fun.

It takes quite a bit of smooth-talking on his part, and more than a small amount of suggestive physicality (you were so tense! Victor was just doing you a favor by pulling you down onto your bed, that’s all) to get you where he wants you.

Underneath him on the bed, wide eyes looking up at him as he shimmies his body down until he can kiss at your tummy through your shirt. “I was joking about the massages, I just wanted you to open the door.” He shoots you a wink, and you quickly blanch.

“Unless you want to strip down and let me rub you all over? I’d make you feel divine little koshka.”

But you shake your head so quickly that your bones pop, and Victor can’t help but laugh.You’re so cute!

You also look uncomfortable, and quite stressed. It probably has something to do with the way Victor’s rubbing along your waist, looking up at you with big eyes as he settles more firmly between your legs.

“Uhm, uhm, Victor, I don’t know-”

“Shhh, I know. I think both of us need to relax a little, don’t you? Look at us! So tense and jumpy!” A quick press of his lips to your clothed tummy has you flinching, wincing away from the intimacy.

Victor is used to smiling his way past refusals, worming his way through with sweet words and such a charming look to get what he wants. You’re not used to letting him in, that much is obvious - but Victor breaks past your defenses anyways.

He knows how nervous you are about your body, so he’s okay with your shirt staying on, draped loosely over your torso. But he needs your pajamas out of the way, just a little so he can get to what he’s really been craving.

And of course you squirm, ask him to stop, to not do this, but Victor doesn’t have to listen. He can grip your waistband and yank it halfway down your thighs, enough so that he can settle back between them and they’re still spread so that he can reach where he needs.

He’s been wanting to taste you for ages.

And you’re so pretty down there, all plush and squishy and pink, like a ripe little fruit, dewy and shiny. Victor can’t help but lick his lips before dipping down to kiss your rosy clit, smiling when it twitches along with your legs, a little cry falling from your lips.

You sound so sweet, Victor can’t wait to hear more of your cute sounds.

So he doesn’t waste any time, flashing you a lovey-dovey smirk before descending to plant his mouth firmly against your mound, listening to your breath hitch and feeling your thighs tense as you whimper out a mantra of “no no no-”.

But yes, yes, oh yes.

You’re soft and delicious and when more wetness seeps out onto his tongue Victor wants to shout “Vkusno!” with glee, but he keeps his mouth on you, slender hands keeping your hips planted to the bed no matter how much you twist and turn away.

Eventually one of his hands moves to intertwine with yours - you keep trying to pull on his hair, tug his face away from the precious treasure between your legs, but Victor isn’t having that. He’d also like to not be bald, so he elects to hold your hand as he eats you out, like a lover.

(And isn’t that what the two of you are?)

He licks you inside and out, up and down and drawing little patterns with his tongue against your puffy little cunt until you’re shaking in his hold, near-wailing from the stimulation. Victor doesn’t want it to end too soon, wants to fully relish this moment, so he pulls back just a teensy bit so he can lick at your plush thighs, give the flesh little love bites that you try to jerk away from.

“Look at you, so tasty and adorable. Doesn’t this feel good?” The man coaxes, before licking a trail back to your wet little hole.

With the way you’re keening, Victor grins to himself because the answer is obvious.

He didn’t expect you to cum so soon.

But here you are, gushing into his mouth after just a little bit of suckling, a little bit of tongue, and Victor feels warmth bloom in his chest, in his cheeks, and he laughs against your cunt. The vibrations make you yelp, thighs struggling and failing to snap closed around his body.

If he was less of a selfish man, Victor would keep going, just like last time and make you cum until you really cried.

But he had different plans this time around.

“Can I use your mouth?” Like the gentleman he is, Victor asks, one of his hands wrapped loosely around his heavy cock as he waits for your answer. It comes in the form of tearful “No! Please!”.

“Then let me use your hands, or your chest, okay? Which one?” It’s always best to give a choice, because then you feel like you have options, some sort of control over the situation. You pick your hands.

He gives you a moment to breathe, a moment to collect yourself from your sudden (and probably painful from how quickly you came) orgasm before he moved to straddle your waist.

Victor has to physically pick up your hands and wrap them around his cock, making you form a tight hole with your fingers for him to hump forward against.

“Fuck, yes, that feels-feels good!” He breathes, happy and pleased with the pleasure rising fast in his gut, how you’re working with him so nicely.

He takes care of his body, shaves all over so that he’s smooth and soft - hopefully you appreciate the effort, because your hands bump against his pubic bone and balls on every quick stroke.

“Fuck!” Victor cries again, because the pleasure takes over and makes him loose himself, hunching over you and working his hips faster, gripping your hands tighter around himself before-before-

You look so cute, all surprised with his cum seeping onto your skin and into your shirt.

Victor is panting heavily as he slows his hips, still working his cock through your hands as he winds down. You make him feel so nice.

He can’t wait to fuck you.

#victor #victor nikiforov #Yandere victor nikiforov #dark victor nikiforov #yandere #tw.dubcon #tw.noncon #tw.coercion #tw.abuse of power

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taechaos · 3 years

Text

Web of Lies

from Textbook Love drabble series

pairing: bully!Jungkook x nerdy!fem!Reader

genre: drabble, smut, college au

synopsis: Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying.

warnings: angst, panic attack, dry humping, the TINIEST bit of fluff

word count: 4.3k

Obstacles are inevitable in relationships; there’s always something that must go wrong. They can come in the form of arguments, disagreements, actions, or people like Taehyung. One physical obstacle that always knows when Jungkook is with you.

A few days after the fight between the two close friends, Taehyung’s nose somewhat healed and Jungkook doesn’t shy away from you as frequently. What’s the point when the people he tried to hide you from found out about his relationship with you anyway? The only reason he doesn’t approach you every time he sees you is because: 1. He doesn’t enjoy being clingy; that would mean he likes being around you all the time which he refuses to admit. 2. You would probably get tired of him and stop loving him. 3. He kissed your friend who always sits next to you outside.

Now that he’s taking most of his opportunities to talk to you, and maybe kiss you, Taehyung is growing restless. Every time Jungkook is with you, so is Taehyung. Some. Fucking. How.

To name one of the busts: when Jungkook was kissing you in the university’s hallway two days ago, Taehyung popped in out of nowhere and shouted, “Get a room, you sluts!” It made for a good laugh between the students, especially when Jungkook ran after him out of the building.

Another time is when Jungkook was watching you work in the yard and Taehyung joined you two to ask about that “one hot friend of yours”. You ended up telling him about Soyeon and Minnie while Jungkook glared at Taehyung that conveyed a clear message: Don’t. So, he didn’t. It didn’t have anything to do with getting elbowed when you weren’t looking.

It was because that would ruin the fun, and he has a sense of purpose while roaming the entire campus to make his fourth bust of the week. He’s searched the hot and empty spots, but he just can’t find the passionate couple anywhere. If he can’t keep disrupting their displays of affection, how will Jungkook get annoyed enough to spill the truth to you? You deserve that much, and if you still accept him, then Taehyung’s out of the picture.

Why can’t Jungkook see that?

For starters, one of the reasons is Jungkook is distracted and growing very irritated by the heavy stare he feels digging into his skin. Who the fuck is watching him? He thought it would be nice to keep you company in the main campus library by controlling your hand under the table over his clothed erection while you skim through your textbook for a light revision, but a pair of eyes behind a bookshelf won’t stop glaring into his soul through thick frames that he can’t see.

He blows out a breath and screws his eyes shut. His jaw clenches and you immediately catch on, worriedly asking, “What’s wrong?”

“Someone’s fucking watching me and I can’t get off,” he grits. Your cheeks heat and grow crimson when you glance down at your occupied hand, palmed by his bigger one in a tight grip.

“I’m so sorry,” you whisper, “we can go to my dorm, if you’d like? Whatever you want.” In an act of comfort, you stupidly start caressing his length until he stands up.

“Gotta confront the fucker.”

Right when he raises his foot to take a step in the direction that his senses lead him to, Taehyung joins in on the mission. “Who are we confronting?” he asks casually with an arm over Soyeon’s shoulder, who is trying to suppress a grimace at the intervention. Jungkook glances at him and then your friend before sucking his teeth and rolling his eyes.

You grin brightly at the greeting and explain, “Someone's watching him. He’s going to find the stalker.”

“Might’ve been me, oops,” Taehyung raises his brows guiltily before slumping on a wooden chair adjacent to you, looking around the spacious area that makes him feel too loud. When he notices Soyeon still standing, he tells her, “come, sit,” and pats the seat next to him. She does so timidly. “Isn’t it so wonderful—”

“Why are you here?” Jungkook interrupts, but Taehyung continues, “—that we’re forming a friend group of our own? We’re all so familiar with each other.”

“Oh, Soyeon hasn’t met Jungkook yet.”

Taehyung narrows his eyes at you with a scrunch of his nose. “Sure about that?” Jungkook strides behind his chair and starts massaging his shoulders; a very harsh massage that has him holding back a wince. “Oh, Kook, that’s a bit rough. Tell me, is he like this in bed too?”

You gape at him in surprise, bashful because your lover doesn’t kiss and tell, and he doesn’t look too happy about it either.

“Tae…” Jungkook snarls.

“Well, is he, Soyeon?”

The library’s silence graces your table as everyone falls quiet, if you don’t count Taehyung’s groans at Jungkook’s bruising hold that is. Soyeon’s jaw drops and her eyes widen at the sudden switch in your gaze, searching for answers from her. “That’s not funny, Taehyung,” she breaks the silence with her blunt statement.

“Don’t mind him, baby, he has brain damage,” Jungkook spits and brings a hand up to Taehyung’s hair to yank it back. “I’m going to fucking kill you,” he whispers in his ear.

Your features begin to soften from its hard expression until Taehyung smiles wickedly at you. “Oh yeah, it wasn’t sex, was it? It was a tongue battle-” His voice cuts off the moment Jungkook starts choking him with his elbow, and his gags fall on deaf ears. Soyeon tries to push him off, but you’re just blank because Jungkook isn’t denying it; it was as if he was expecting it, trying to stop him all along.

The sudden interest in your friend, the constant interruptions, the hits…

“Soyeon?” you call quietly with welling up tears. “Did you kiss him?”

Your best friend doesn’t lie, and apparently neither does Taehyung. Does Jungkook lie? You’re conflicted between living in bliss, ignoring the dying man in front of you because your boyfriend might have kissed Soyeon, and facing reality by asking the hard questions.

Her hands are still tugging on his shirt to save Taehyung, but her persistence weakens when she looks at you: guilty and… exposed? “I didn’t know it was him,” she confesses. It is indirect, and doesn’t reveal much except that she kissed the one man she wasn’t supposed to.

“When?”

“The party,” Taehyung wheezes as he struggles against Jungkook’s arm, his nails drawing blood on his skin. His face is red from the lack of oxygen but he isn’t worried about dying.

“Oh, he put you up to this, didn’t he?” Jungkook speaks through clenched teeth to Soyeon. “They’re setting me up, and who the fuck is watching me?!”

You stand up slowly and close your textbook with a soft thud, packing your materials so graciously. Your hands are shaking, but the tears blurring your vision don’t matter to you. Soyeon is honest, Taehyung is using his last breaths to tell you the truth, and Jungkook is lying. You sling your bag over your shoulder and trudge to the exit, counting your steps to calm down. You ignore Jungkook asking you where you’re going, Taehyung gasping for breath, and Soyeon telling him to leave you alone. It’s all muffled and you’re too sad to care.

It’s a case of he said she said, but your heart is siding with your friends with how painfully it pounds against your chest. Your trust in Jungkook couldn’t have been that fragile, could it? Why did it break with one sentence?

Heavy footfalls follow you beyond the exit, but you’re too distracted by trying to move your legs steadily to notice. It isn’t important enough to distract you from someone calling your name though, or the light weight of a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Hm?” you say without looking up, frozen in your steps.

“A-Are you okay?” A smooth voice asks.

“I’m a bit sad,” your voice cracks and wavers from holding back a meltdown, “hurt.” You want to recognize the blurred image of the man standing next to you, so you blink and a tear sheds from each eye. “I told you to never talk to me again, Jimin.” You feel overwhelmed, and yet the memory of the blackmail has little impact on your mess of emotions, but it doesn't help you feel better either.

“Sorry,” he breathes, “I still don’t understand why, but you can do the talking for me. Wh-what happened?”

“Why do you ask? So you can use that against me too?” you scoff through the lump in your throat. Confusion washes his soft features, so you add, “maybe another handjob for it?” You shrug off his hand and continue your walk of shame.

“I-I’ve never used anything against you, what are you talking about?” He’s chasing after you and it’s a bit of help in swaying your thoughts in a different direction, and your emotions towards anger and disbelief instead.

“Does a video ring a bell? The one you threatened to leak if I didn’t touch your…” You groan to yourself and quicken your pace towards your dorm. Maybe you could mope comfortably in there without the annoying presence of an arch enemy, who is feeding you more lies than you’re capable of consuming in one day.

“What? I never— Listen, I deleted that video the second I received it. Whoever told you that was lying, please!”

It seems that everything you know boils down to Jungkook lying. His love was a lie too, apparently. Maybe the Jungkook you know is just one big fat lie who can’t seem to tell you the truth in any moment you’ve been with him. How many times do you need to hear from others and yourself that Jungkook is lying?

“I know,” you whimper and run off.

Once Taehyung catches his breath after coughing for a minute straight with a fresh bruise blossoming on his neck, he interrupts the hushed argument between Jungkook and Soyeon by asking, “Where’d she go?”

“I don’t know, but you’re going straight to hell once I fucking kill you for good,” Jungkook fumes with flushed cheeks.

“If you die by murder, you go straight to Heaven. How do you not know this?” His voice is low from the assault and his throat aches, but he still attempts to lighten the mood.

“I swear to fucking God, Taehyung—” Jungkook stops his threat when he sees Soyeon sneakily walking away. “Where the fuck are you going?”

“Air,” Soyeon vaguely answers.

“Bullshit.” Jungkook tries to go after her, wanting to be the first to find your dorm so she doesn't say more about that night, but Taehyung holds onto his wrist to stop him.

“She needs time—”

“Fuck off.”

When Jungkook begins to walk off after yanking off his hand, Taehyung immediately searches around the room and takes out a pen from a cup on the reception desk before jumping Jungkook from behind just as he was about to leave. They struggle against each other and start rolling around, but Taehyung is driven by adrenaline as he grounds himself on top of him. He holds him down with his legs and uncaps the pen to start writing on his forehead.

“What the fuck are you doing?!” Everyone in the library peeks at the commotion due to Jungkook’s loud yell, but neither of them pay mind as he tries to move away from the pen.

“See if she takes you seriously with dick written on your forehead,” Taehyung chuckles before sprinting off with him hot on his tail. Jungkook is stronger, but Taehyung is much faster as he loses him pretty quickly by hiding in an occupied lecture hall. The professor looks at him questioningly but he thinks fast and breathlessly asks the students, “Is Jeon Jungkook here? The headmaster is looking for him.” Some people search for him, but when no one makes a peep, he escapes the room and Jungkook’s wrath.

Now to go to your dorm before Jungkook scrubs off the ink…

“I didn’t know his name,” Soyeon murmurs while fidgeting with her fingers. When she came in the room, you were muffling your sobs with your pillow and all she saw was your jerking shoulders. She tried to comfort you, to hug you, but you weren’t exactly being friendly, and the setting is pretty much the same except she’s sitting on your bed while you still cry. “I asked people what he looked like, but it was just a description of every guy in the room. He wasn’t around for them to point at, and so I thought maybe he didn’t come. Then this guy kisses me on this couch, feels guilty about it, and tells me his name. I-I didn’t know it was Jungkook. He left for you anyway…”

Her attempt at consolation is fruitless because it only makes you cry harder. She rubs your back soothingly before standing up. “I’ll check up on you later. Let me know if you need anything, okay?” You nod against your stained pillow.

The moment she opens the door, Taehyung’s fist misses her head by an inch. “Oops,” he says before gently pushing her aside by her shoulder and entering. His eyes fall on your fetal position first thing and he pouts at you. “Aw, baby—”

“She doesn’t want to talk right now.”

“I’m good company,” he dismisses her with a flick of his wrist, “you can go.”

She rolls her eyes before shutting the door, and it’s only you and him now. Your hiccups fill the room as he sadly watches you, a quiet sigh leaving his mouth. “I tried to tell you. Well, I tried to get him to tell you.”

“Y-You said,” you snivel against the sheet, “th-that he was whipped for me.”

I said that to get you to open up. Even in his head it sounds cruel, so he rethinks his response with a grimace. “Jungkook told me he liked you.” Maybe shifting the blame wasn’t exactly much better, especially since he told him that after the claim, but you have enough on your plate.

“H-He told me he loved me,” you hiccup, releasing your death grip on the poor pillow. It’s a mask rather than a silencer now. Taehyung widens his eyes to himself and purses his lips. He takes Soyeon’s former seat and turns you on your back. His heart sinks a little when he sees your face: red nose, heavy lids, bloodshot eyes and quivering lips with messy hair. You look really pretty to him right now. “He lies so much. H-He even made me give Jimin a handjob.”

“Made you?” he repeats with his thumb drawing circular patterns on your collarbone.

You nod. “It’s a long story, and I don’t want to talk about it. It was horrible.”

His brows furrow at your tone. “That’s so fucked up... Man, you need to avoid him.”

“Jimin?”

“Jungkook. That’s too twisted, even for him. You’re an angel…” his palm reaches for your cheek and his thumb continues its soothing motions. “You didn’t deserve it.”

“Thank you,” you mouth and fresh tears brim as you try to swallow. It feels like you’re sick all over again, except there’s no misunderstanding to clear this time. He wipes a stray teardrop and smiles down at you; it’s a relaxing gesture. You close your eyes and hold onto his wrist, snuggling into his warm hand.

“I sound really cheesy, don’t I?” he chuckles. “Can’t lie, wish I had someone call me an angel after I caught my ex cheating on me.”

An involuntary giggle erupts from your mouth at his joke. “You’re an angel, Taehyung. An angel in disguise.” You peek at him before fluttering your eyes shut again. A pursed smile graces his lips, and he’s convinced he isn’t interested in you romantically, that it was just an invisible force drawing him closer to you, that he wasn’t the one aiming for your lips until a pound on the door resounds in the room.

You flinch away from his hand and he pulls back instantly; both of your heads shoot to the source of the noise.

“Open up!” Jungkook yells and continues fisting the door. “Open the fucking door!” Taehyung holds a finger against his lips, signalling you to stay silent until he leaves. “I want to talk. Open the door… please.” Neither of you say anything.

“Fine,” he agrees, “don’t talk. I’ll talk, but at least give me a sign that you’re here.” Before Taehyung can stop you, you rush to the door and knock once. You hear him slide down the door, presumably leaning his back against it and sitting on the floor. “Okay. I’m sor— They were lying—” you slam your fist against the door in denial. “Okay! But they weren’t telling the whole truth back there. I was um… on drugs. I was really fucking high, okay?”

“Yet your high-self still managed to yell at me! Clearly you weren’t high out of your mind,” you snap menacingly. He flinches at your sudden shut-down; he’s never heard you yell at him before, nor has he ever been the victim of your anger. It makes his heart drop.

“That was like, three hours after I got high! I was practically sober, plus, you weren’t talking to me that day!”

“I had lost my voice! I didn’t want you to get sick—"

“I DIDN’T FUCKING KNOW THAT!”

He gulps at your silence and inhales a deep breath to calm down. He hears you sniffle on the other side. “I-I didn’t know that. You wouldn’t kiss me, wouldn’t talk to me, and I didn’t know why. I thought you stopped loving me and… that really upset me.” He sighs to himself because he’s never opened up so honestly and it’s difficult, but he doesn’t exactly have a choice. It just feels so embarrassing.

Taehyung opens the window of your dorm and climbs out. You don’t see or hear it happen, too invested in your argument to even remember his existence. “Do you remember what I told you the night we did it for the first time?”

His face scrunches as he tries to replay the events beside the sex. The corner of his lip tugs upwards when he recalls you calling him a slut, but he’s still clueless as to why you’re bringing it up. You don’t leave him in the dark for long. “I told you I wouldn’t forgive you a second time.” He gnaws on his lip as his palms feel clammy with nervous sweat.

“W-We weren’t dating then,” he tries to justify. “I didn’t need forgiveness then. You’re so unfair!” He stands up and knocks with his fist again. “Let’s talk it out face to face, I’ll explain everything. You’re putting me at a disadvantage! Don’t you want clarity? Don’t you want this to work out?!” He starts chanting your name when you don’t answer. “I will break down this fucking door if you don’t open it,” he doesn’t sound nearly as intimidating as he usually does when threatening; he sounds more like he’s a second away from breaking down himself. “No, no… please. I-I’ll kiss another girl if you break up with me! You don’t want that, right? So just open the door.”

His tough façade crumbles the longer you ignore him, and he can’t believe the heavy weight he feels all over his body wants to leave in the form of tears. It stings in his eyes but he doesn’t dare let them fall. “You’re so fucking cruel!” He twists the door handle violently; desperately. A dry sob escapes him as he kicks the door one last time. “Oh God, oh God…” he tries to breathe but it doesn’t enter his lungs. It’s like being choked with a noose as he gasps and a tear runs down his cheek. His wheezes become so loud that you start hearing them and grow concerned.

You consider the possibility that it’s one of his tactics, trying to manipulate you, but you open the door anyway. It’s a slight crack and you barely get a look at him before he pushes it open completely and forces his way in. He sits on your bed and his shoulders hunch, breaths still shallow. “I didn’t mean it. I don’t like her, never did, I only— I was mad, and I couldn’t go through with it, and I’ve never shown you affection b-because I’ve only ever received it from you—” you hush his rambling with a hug, but he continues with his head against your stomach anyway, “I’ve never been in a relationship and I’m a fucking mess and I understand why you wouldn’t want to be with me, but please don’t leave me. I’ll do my homework, I’ll stop being mean, I won’t even talk if you don’t want me to, but please don’t stop talking to me.”

“Jungkook…” you trail in shock. “I’m here. Take a deep breath.” When he tries, it’s so shaky that it makes you tear up for the umpteenth time. You’re a mess with him. “In and out, love, in and out.” You would do it with him like an instructor, but it’s not possible when he’s squeezing your waist so tightly. It takes a few minutes for him to relax his grip and he looks up at you pitifully. “It’s okay,” you assure and pet his hair, “you’re okay.”

“I’m sorry. I love you.”

“I love you more.”

“I love you most,” he exhales. “I mean… I realized that night, that I only want to be with…”

“I get it,” you whisper to comfort him, knowing he has struggles with expressing himself, but he doesn’t stop. He wants to get it off his chest, and he quietly tells you, “I kissed another girl when I wanted to make you jealous, and then another to forget. I don’t want to do that, I mean I only want to kiss… you.”

You initiate it first by leaning down to peck his lips, and you don’t pull away too far. You peck him again, and then start kissing him. He’s never been this slow with you before, but the panic attack must have drained him. It’s the way that he doesn’t immediately turn it heated with the intent of taking it to the third base that warms your heart. He’s hesitant and taking his time, mindful of your reactions because you’re in control for once. You’re aware of how vulnerable he is being with you, and he conveys that with the gentle press of his lips.

He whimpers into the kiss, and it’s so quiet and mournful that you lean back but he chases after you. He doesn’t want to stop like you’d assumed, so you place your knees on either side of him and hover over his thighs. Even his hands are hesitant as he lightly sits you down on his lap by pulling your waist. You smile against him and with his submission, you swipe your tongue across his lip. He opens for you. You roll your tongue around his, and he eventually begins to suck on yours. There’s a pit in your stomach that confuses you; is it arousal? Flattery? You feel so special because you know he hasn’t been like this with anyone else; so powerless and passive.

It’s passionate. You inch your body a little closer to him and he grunts when you brush against his crotch before settling down. This isn’t about sexual needs, and you don’t treat it as such but your body has a mind of its own with its constant shuffling that turns him on. He doesn’t want to feel that way, but his hips have a subtle way of thrusting beneath you. His hums rumble and you kiss him harder, losing all your senses except for the warmth of his skin. You don’t notice him controlling the movement of your hips because he’s taking it slow, and you don’t need to know why he’s quietly moaning into you.

At least no one’s watching him now.

You pull back in surprise when he groans loudly, and you know he’s back to himself as his actions grow rough. You’re practically jumping when he grinds on you with his spit all over your mouth because of his explorative tongue. From past experience, you’ve figured out that Jungkook is more honest when he’s in the heat of the moment, so you inquire against his lips, “Why did you lie to me about Jimin?”

“That fucking freak,” he growls, “I needed a reason to get you to hate him. He didn’t stop you when it happened, did he?”

Still manipulative. “Will you do the same with Taehyung?”

“No, I,” his thrusts slow down, “I’m gonna, err…” He looks at you for help.

“You’re gonna be a good boy and talk things out with him, right?”

“Right,” he breathes, “talk.” He slams his lips against yours again, and it’s not long before he sighs at his climax with your cooperation. There’s a small patch growing on his pants through his underwear, and he cusses when he notices it. He pecks you one last time before hugging you and laying on the bed, cuddling you like a blanket. “Do you forgive me?”

You rest your head on his chest and feel his pulse to contemplate. He brings a hand up to your hair and starts running his fingers through it, unbothered by your lack of answer. “I’ll make it up to you,” he says. “Do you…” he clears his throat, “do you maybe want to have dinner with me?”

“Like a date?” you tease with a grin.

“Yes.”

“There’s my answer,” you lift your head to wink up at him. “But if you test me again, I’ll break your heart just as you did mine. Don’t worry though,” you whisper, “I’ll never leave you.”

#bts imagines #bts scenarios #jeon jungkook #bts x reader #jungkook x reader #bts fic #jungkook smut #bts smut #jungkook imagines #jjk smut #jeon jungkook smut #bts #networkbangtan

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atlas-of-a-human-soul · 3 years

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Broken Trust, pt.4

Part one // Part two // Part three

Summary: Time passes, but certain things don’t change. In light of their emotions, both make a choice that will inevitably lead them to one another - for better or worse.

Warnings: angst (my apologies), fluff sprinkled on top

a/n - It’s likely the last one before the finale, so settle in and get some tissues.

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Y/N swore she’ll never be so stupid, so naïve, so helpless ever again when she left the orphanage. She swore she’d be stronger, for herself and Mal, yet she found herself in the very same position.

Mal returned to her side, alive unlike what she believed. In a way, Aleksander couldn’t take away the one person she had left and a small part of her loved him more because of it. Mal wrapped his arms around her, aware nothing he says would do them any good as she began to cry. She didn’t want to, she didn’t want anyone to see her weakness for the man she’s supposed to hate. She couldn’t help it, though. She felt utterly alone and helpless. She felt like her mind and heart are breaking into two – one meant to love Aleksander and the other meant for hate.

Her screams echoed long into the night, filled with raging despair and the sorrowful betrayal she had been a victim of. After all, it’s those we love who hurt us most and she didn’t break quietly. It felt like every atom of her being screamed in unison, traumatized by all the things she kept inside since she was a child. She thought she was safe with Aleksander, that she could entrust her heart and soul to him. And she could, but she’d have to sacrifice who she is in return and she caught herself wishing she could. Y/N wished she could shed that part of herself that saw the world as black and white, to see it in the same shade of grey Aleksander did, but she couldn’t.

When the wracking sobs passed, she cried in such a desolate way that Mal couldn’t bear to listen for long.

“We need to go”, Mal whispered, looking around anxiously. They’ve stayed for too long, her cries have been too loud. He could feel it in his bones, if they didn’t leave, something sinister would happen. “Please, Y/N.”

Mal attempts to help her up, but she sinks to her knees. Her entire body is trembling, inconsolable. Y/N found herself robbed of her ability to love and trust, not only others but herself for her heart had lied to her mind who trusted the muscle blindly. It’s much more painful than a simple betrayal – she would have taken a dagger to the heart much kinder than what he had done to her.

And she hated him with burning passion for leaving now. If he persisted, she wasn’t certain if she’d be capable of resisting him much longer. But he left. He told her he loves her, her told her he would be kind to her and then he left her for trying to save his soul.

“If we do not leave now, we will be killed!” Mal raises his voice and she flinches, snapping out of her thoughts. She stands, her tears glistening in the faint light of the moonlight above them. Nodding, she walks with Mal, refusing to wipe the tears away.

She might not be like Aleksander, she might not share his darkness, but she is too proud to surrender, too proud to bend, too proud to lose. If he wants to make war instead of love, she’ll give it to him.

“How do I look?” Y/N raised her eyebrows, hands on her hips as she twirled.

Her cheeky smile acted like a wrecking ball for the wall the Darkling erected long ago, meant to keep the light out. He cultivated his darkness, convinced it would give him all his heart desires, yet the sight of Y/N struggling to stand with his kefta engulfing her the same his arms would if they embraced, it had rendered him speechless.

Y/N’s smile falters in the silence, her eyebrows furrowing as a frown crinkles her forehead. “Should I not have done this?”

The disappointment in her voice forced Aleksander to act, shaking his head while sending her a disarming smile.

"No, it's fine. I just didn't expect you to wear my clothes."

On any given day, she’d be blushing at the sight of his smile. His smile had healing properties as far she was concerned, but today wasn’t an ordinary day and her nerves made her particularly sensitive. Pursing her lips, she attempts to fold her arms with the extra fabric making it much harder, while casting her gaze to the ground. “You don’t like it.”

Raising his eyebrows, his smile grows. He comes closer, placing his index finger under her chin to tilt her head, properly meeting her gaze. "On the contrary", he speaks slowly and clearly, "I find you irresistible."

If she didn’t know any better, Y/N would have guessed he was the Sun Summoner with the way his glowing smile set her alight.

Licking her lips drew his attention, his eyes flickering down momentarily. It seemed like such an innocent moment, but it was enough to make her hands shake in anticipation.

Sighing, Y/N forces her eyes open. While she kept Aleksander out of her mind during the day, the nights favored his memory. It had been an almost that came to her dream, their almost first kiss when she had been in Little palace for a full month – she remembers because he made the dinner all about her presence.

No matter how hard she tried to let it go – to let him go, she always found herself clutching her chest in the morning. She wondered if she ever crossed his mind, almost a year since they’ve parted. Does his heart ache the same? Is that why she had hardly heard anything of him?

Her mind conjured up the worst, most painful explanations in the lonely nights. She wondered if he ever truly loved her and if he had, where had the love gone?

Can a person just stop loving someone? Did Aleksander Morozova finally stop loving her?

She wanted to stop loving him, but she couldn’t. She found herself making up excuses in his place to cover up the mistakes he’s made. In this distance that was freezing her soul and collapsing her heart, Y/N’s sole wish was to meet with her darling Darkling again. But she couldn’t travel to Little palace with the knowledge that he likely didn’t want her there or that he’d still further his plans despite her wishes. She’d have been by his side if he truly wanted her with him.

If he loved her enough, he wouldn’t have deceived her.

If he loved her enough, he would have helped her destroy the fold.

If he loved her enough, he would be here to reassure her instead of letting her question everything.

“I can do this”, she whispered under her breath, reassuring herself. She spent so many months trying to conjure up enough light and maintain enough control for it to seem Aleksander wasn’t wrong about her.

She wanted to make him proud, to draw him in with her light ever since he named her Sunshine. It’s silly, but the endearing name passing his lips made her insides quiver and she was prepared to do anything to hear it again. After all, if she does spectacularly well during an evening where she’s the main attraction, she was certain he’d see her as the only woman in the world.

Yet, as she makes her first few steps into the room, Y/N realizes she was wrong. She hasn’t done anything yet, but his eyes are chained to her regardless. The way he’s looking at her now makes her feel as if she is the only woman in the world that matters.

She saw his chest rise as he drew breath, then he was coming toward her, moving with his usual predatory grace and the intimidating flare. She wasn’t sure which she found more unnerving the intimidating Darkling or the graceful General.

"We are matching", she presses her lips to suppress an excited smile creeping up on her. She didn't expect his kefta to match hers despite his request to wear it. For Y/N, it felt strangely intimate, but she welcomed intimacy as long as it was with him.

“You look stunning”, he breathes out, a handsome smile appearing on his lips as he holds out his hand for her to take.

She doesn’t hesitate, awestruck by the twinkle in his dark eyes.

“They tell me you refused the gloves”, he raises his eyebrows.

Lifting her shin up, she smirks, “Have faith in me.”

Leaning in, Aleksander’s nose brushes her earlobe, “I never said I don’t.”

Helping her up on the stage, Aleksander stepped before her. She could hardly focus on his words, staring at his broad shoulders as they entirely shielded her from curious glances. He eclipsed her long enough for nerves to subside and she was grateful.

“You still think you’re ready?” Mal settles beside her, lips pressed as he looks at her disheveled state.

Clearing her throat, she nods, “I’ve never been stronger.”

“I know, but if you need more time –“, Mal begins, but Y/N’s irritated glare shut him up.

“We head to the fold today.” Taking a sip of her water, Y/N stands, intent on going into the woods.

“You love him”, Mal’s words stop Y/N in her tracks. “I know you do. It’s why you suffer so much in his absence.“

Swallowing thickly, she exhales through her nose to stop herself from saying anything she might regret. There’s a reason she refused to speak about Aleksander with Mal, with anyone if she could help it. Other than occasionally asking around if he’s been seen, Y/N had kept him out of her mouth. Mal couldn’t understand her feelings, he never would. She knew it to be true.

Aleksander is still an active heartache she couldn’t heal with time nor practice. Truth be told, she wanted him with her all the time. She wanted him there to cuddle when she’s on the brink of breaking, for him to whisper sweet nothings in her ear and remind her she’s loved. She wanted him there when she bathes to splash water in each other’s faces like children, to hear him gasping for air when he laughs so freely like nothing had ever gone wrong between them.

She is his. Despite the way things started, she was truly his and no amount of denial will ever change that. Unable to form words, Y/N closed her eyes as her face contorted. Her lips pressed together to hold in a sob and her head hurt from all the pressure building up in her attempt to stop herself from falling apart. But she couldn’t. There were no walls left inside her to hold the hurt encased from her mind any longer. She was shattering after nearly a year and a half of being strong – silent as she missed him, as she loved him, as she defended him from herself.

Meanwhile, in Little palace, Aleksander sat in her old room with her blue kefta in hand. He brings it up to his face, inhaling the faded scent in hope of remembering the warmth mere traces of her scent could evoke. He missed the smell of her hair when he buried his face in her neck, the gentle touch of her skin, the sweetness of her lips.

"May I ask for a dance?” He asked her with a half-smile, surprised she seemed reluctant to take his hand after her demonstration. “I won't bite”, he winks, making her roll her eyes and giggle simultaneously.

“I can hardly dance”, she admits, nibbling on her lower lip mercilessly.

Taking her hand with his right hand, he brought her closer with his left hand on her hip. She gasps, caught off guard as she looks at him with amusement.

He raises an eyebrow, suppressing a chuckle as he begins to sway her from side to side.

"When I first saw you, I couldn't get over how breathtakingly beautiful you are.” Aleksander tells her, the softest smile adorning his lips and she wished she could just reach out and touch them to see if they feel just as soft as they look. “I tried to stop you from leaving because I was bewitched by you, but then your light came out and I couldn't believe how lucky I was."

Inhaling sharply, she stared at him with lips parted in uncertainty. “So you’d say you care for me?”

Sighing heavily, Aleksander leaned his forehead on his palms, realizing not much work would be done as her face is all he thinks of, all he sees. The night he walked away, he finally saw what his love had brought her – pain and suffering. He took all she was and picked her soul apart until she was left void of love, of hate, of all emotion. After so many lifetimes, the Saints answered his prayers and sent him a dream encased in a good woman, to love and to care for and he had ruined her.

Loneliness was a punishment too kind for his awful actions.

He thought what would have happened if he had given her the truth before – had he told her what he knew, but also what he kept from her. Maybe she’d understand, maybe she would have stayed. Would their bond grow stronger?

It couldn’t be worse than it is now.

That’s his fault as well.

Pressing his lips together, Aleksander closed his eyes for a moment. “I’d say you’re the light of my life and I never want to see it dim.”

Dipping her, his lips pause at her throat and he could feel the exact moment her breath halted, caught right below his lips. He could feel her quiver, gripping his arm strongly but not out of fear of being dropped, but from a need to be closer.

Bringing her upright, he had no more desire to remain among the people where every action is judged, controversial. He wanted to take her somewhere where he could just be Aleksander, more than the Darkling they branded him as.

“Want to go somewhere more private?” She tilts her head ever so slightly to glance at the grand entry door, waiting for his response. He couldn’t believe how easily she read his mind.

Instead of speaking, he simply pulls her toward the door, feeling as if he had been given a chance to do what he never thought was possible – live. To live and possibly love.

Once they entered his room, closest to them from the reception, Aleksander stopped. He turns to her with a smirk, his hand still holding onto hers. His fingers curl around it gently, encasing it. Slowly, he brings the hand up to his lips, leaving a feather light kiss on her wrist while her cheeks darkened.

Y/N couldn’t ignore the smile upon his lips. Smiles are supposed to be soft and inviting, but his is charming and deadly. She knew he had captured her heart and no matter what she does, he’s rooted deep inside her. He’ll always run through her veins, even if they part.

Problem is, she didn’t mind it. Not at all.

She could feel her lips tingle, parting in need. All she wants is to press her lips against his, close her eyes and take him in. She didn’t care about her previously established beliefs, she’d burn them all down for a single kiss. Barely holding onto who she was before she met her sweet Darkling, Y/N cups his cheek.

His eyes are alight with desire and craving he’s been suppressing for a long time, intoxicating her, captivating her.

Her hand moves to the back of his neck, pulling him down and he complies. His forehead rests on Y/N’s, the tip of his nose brushing hers while her fingertips grasp at the short hair at the back of his head. He’s breathing heavily, his eyes closing, so she allows herself the comfort of closing her own while bridging the distance between them.

She presses her lips firmly onto his and the world melts away. His hand clasps gently into the back of her hair, pressing in softly. His lips are softness, passion, the promise of the sweetness to come.

Pulling back for a air, she hears the breathless chuckle accompanying his dashing smile.

“That was a perfect kiss”, she pecks his lips once more and he feels his heart stop. At a loss for words, he blinks a couple of times, seeing her lips curve into a small smile.

“Don’t go shy on me now, Sunshine.”

Aleksander remembered how they made love that night, leisurely, savoring each other’s bodies until their passion mounted. He thought about all the times she had given herself to him willingly and yet it felt like he was the one who gave her small pieces of himself each time. He loved not knowing what to expect with her for she was never the same twice. One time she would be quiet and sensual, the next aggressive and demanding. At other times she would be laughing and teasing. But no matter how she was, he loved loving her. Even the thought of touching her excited him.

She drove him mad, but she also showed him what it means to love someone. She could have killed him at any given moment had it been her true desire, just as he could have done the same to her and yet he couldn’t. Even thinking about someone hurting her upsets him.

Y/N could have stayed or killed him, he’d be fine with either way. At least then he wouldn’t suffer alone. She let him go so easily that he couldn’t help but think her love was never his. He wished he didn’t resent her for it, because a part of him wished she’d let him go long before, he wished for her to go far away from him where she’d be happier.

In his eyes swam ghosts of regrets and self-loathing, for he could have done a lot of things much better, made her life much easier. He could have been a better choice for her, a happy ending she’s deserving of. But he had already messed everything up and it is easier to have her see him as the bad guy.

She’d let him go easier.

“General?” Ivan paused in the doorway, aware no one’s allowed in Y/N’s room and he valued his life greatly, far too much to dare take another step.

Swallowing thickly, Aleksander remained on the bed while the Darkling rose to his feet. He had been planning for too long, hiding away from what needs to be done. It was time to act and the Darkling’s mind is made up.

“We’re heading to the fold today.”

PART 5

#the darkling x reader #the darkling #aleksander morozova #general kirigan #shadow and bone #aleksander x reader

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astaroth1357 · 3 years

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My Protective Demon and Me: How to Live with Your Overly-Protective Hellspawn!

Intro:

So you've bagged yourself a demon, huh? Well, there are many great benefits to dating the otherworldly creatures of Hell, including increased power, longevity, and security! We can assure you that your demon boyfriend wants nothing more than to keep you safe, dear human, but this can be a new experience for the uninitiated. Never fear, because we have put together this guide to help you navigate the relationship you've just signed your soul into! My Protective Demon and Me is an instructional tool for your new demonic partnership, designed to introduce you to the protective tendencies of Seven Rulers of Hell. Listen to our advice, and you won't be left wondering why your boyfriend insists on carrying you down the stairs or loses his mind when you're injured by paper!

(Warnings: Possessive Behaviors, Implied PTSD, Yandere-ish)

Lucifer

Now, there's no kind way to say this, but Lucifer will think of you as small, weak, and helpless on most days. We promise it's not quite as insulting as it sounds because to him, that just makes you cuter.

Because he thinks you're so pathetic, he will want to provide for you in all sorts of ways. This includes security.

Lucifer's approach to keeping you safe is a little indirect, and it may sound a tad… invasive, but that's only because he's not able to be with you in person as often as he'd like.

He uses familiars spread across the Devildom to keep an eye on you during the day. Don't fret; these familiars aren't there to tell him about your every waking breath. Just monitor you and report back to him if something's amiss.

If there's an alert, he will drop everything to be sure that you're alright. The second he knows something's wrong, he'll be right with you within a minute, Diavolo be damned.

He may try to play it off as he just happened to be in the area if others are around, but in truth, he'd use magic to recall himself to your side.

Speaking of magic… Again, since he can't be with you as much as he wants, you may begin to notice your body getting stronger to a certain degree over your time with him. Is he secretly using magical means to strengthen your bones or make your skin harder to tear? He will never say, so best not ask.

Potential threats against you are dealt with discreetly, mostly under the guise of safeguarding the exchange program for Diavolo. No offenders will ever make it to the castle dungeon, though, as Lucifer tends to finish them off on sight... We recommend that you make yourself scarce during these times. Torture is such a nasty thing to witness...

Lucifer would like to believe that, in being with him, you're the safest that you could possibly be, but he always worries about what danger you're in while he's busy with work. A part of him blames his lack of vigilance over Lilith for her downfall, and he has strained to recover a sense of security over his loved ones ever since... Though he may come across as overbearing, just know he only watches you that closely because he couldn't bear to lose you.

Mammon

If you've won over Mammon's heart, then he's going to guard you as fiercely as a dragon does its treasure. But be warned because this can lead to confrontation...

Mammon will see himself as your bodyguard of sorts, so he'll try to be around you at all hours of the day. He'll start by making excuses like he needs study help, but after a while, he'll just hope you come to accept him as a constant fixture in your life and don't question his hovering.

He will stick very close to you in public, particularly when among other demons. He's the second strongest of his brothers, so this alone should deter most threats but don't be surprised if you see him scan the room you're in from time to time.

Take care not to hurt yourself around Mammon because he has yet to fully process how fragile the human body is. He may panic upon seeing you hurt (and he's not the most helpful when he's panicking…).

Should you get hurt when Mammon is near, you may see his protective instincts spike considerably. He will offer to carry heavy packages, refuse to let you handle sharp objects, and hold out a hand to steer you around tight corners.

Do not threat, this added level of attention is only temporary. Remind Mammon that accidents are a part of human life, and you can get yourself through them as the species normally does.

If someone actually tries to hurt you, we advise you to stay calm and focus on getting harmed as little as possible. Unfortunately, there will be no good way to talk Mammon out of fighting in your defense. It's best to focus on minimizing the damage to yourself and staying alive until help can be brought to you.

Mammon does this not to look down on you, but because he loves you so deeply, he's devastated any time he sees you hurt. Be patient with him, and he will learn to draw back his fear to a more appropriate level. Always know, though, that he worries about you constantly, so try not to give his demonic heart too many palpitations - yes?

Leviathan

Levi is in some ways more chill than his brothers, and in others far more extreme depending on the location you find yourselves in.

If you are in his room (which you will be a lot), then he will be very relaxed. As far as he's concerned, you are in his domain and thus perfectly safe. There's no need to worry about you getting hurt or stumbling upon any rivals.

If you are together in the outside world, however, he will be very on edge. You are the most important individual in his life, so any possibility of you leaving him by death or by choice is not acceptable.

He will try his damnedest to steer you away from large crowds or packed spaces because he will be terrified of losing you in the chaos. Being in any public place where he can't see you will drive his anxiety through the roof. His imagination is quite active, and his mind is always against him.

If you are with his brothers, then he will be particularly tense. He acknowledges both their capacity to drag you into dangerous shenanigans AND steal away your affections, neither of which are options he'd like to pursue.

He will rarely let you be alone with his brothers without express permission, and even then, he has likely shot a threat to them about minding your safety (and your relationship) beforehand. As he is third strongest, only Mammon and Lucifer would ignore his "requests" but only to a point. It's a terrible mess whenever he summons Lotan in the House…

If someone else hurts you retribution will be swift (and bordering on lethal) because he's far more worried about getting back to making sure you're alright. He won't have his Henry dying on his watch, after all.

If you happen to hurt yourself, expect him to stow you away in his room for even longer than usual. Your accidental demise is a recurring fear of his, so he will need a great deal of reassurance that you are still with him and not quite at death's door just yet (yes, even if you get a papercut).

Leviathan is so protective of you because he feels like he has the most to lose if you died/left. He interacts with so few people that having even one show him patience is a game-changer. He would have the hardest time moving on should your presence ever leave him, so protecting you is the best thing he can do to protect himself from that pain in the future.

Satan

Satan's protective nature is less overt than the others, but in many ways, it's more… intense.

He's more familiar than the others with the fragility of human bodies thanks to many years of casual study. Thus, he has bulked up his knowledge of your species in earnest to help keep you safe.

What we mean to say is, fear not, you're now dating a doctor. He may not have an M.D. to his name, but he's pretty damn close.

He will want to know about any slight inconvenience you may be experiencing, from a slight headache all the way to broken bones. He prefers to diagnose your problem quickly then use any combination of magic or medicine to heal your ailments. You will rarely struggle with ongoing discomfort again!

That being said, he can be quite pushy. There will be no, "I'll just sleep it off" with him. If it can be fixed, he��will fix it. Your patience be damned.

If you somehow manage to hurt yourself… He will be disappointed, but he will not deny you assistance. He will lecture you if he sees you doing potentially reckless activities, though, because it's his (self-imposed) job to patch you up afterward.

It should really go without saying that most demons know better than to hurt someone he loves. He may not be the strongest of his brothers, but he is among the least merciful, and that does make a difference.

If, for whatever reason, one actually does manage to harm you, then you have an important choice to make. Do you allow him to act on his anger or be the one to show mercy when he will not? If you'd like to be charitable, please consult our helpful material, How to Calm Your Demon Boyfriend: Tame Demons, Save Lives.

At his core, Satan worries about his demonic side because he knows how easily his Wrath can take over. So he does his best to circumvent these destructive tendencies with nurturing ones. He may come off like a worrywart, but helping you is just as much an assurance to him as it is a service to you. He's not destined to hurt you. He can heal you instead.

Asmodeus

Asmo is a free-spirited individual who would like to afford you the same freedom that he enjoys… but he knows very well how fragile the human body is. He's had many human lovers over the years, so he's very familiar with your limitations.

However, he's also aware of how capable you can be despite your perceived weaknesses (he's been friends with Solomon for years, after all).

Unfortunately, this won't stop him from worrying about your safety entirely. It's nothing personal, we assure you. He simply wants to be sure the love of his life can be with him for as long as possible.

Asmo shows his protectiveness most when confronted. He's far more worried about some demonic lowlife taking advantage of you than he is you falling off a step ladder. He understands that accidents will happen and that most are ultimately harmless, but other people? They can do you far more harm.

Due to his disposition and rank, most demons won't take his claim to you seriously. This is to their folly. Though he may not be physically strong as his elder brothers or even Beel, what he lacks in raw power he makes up for in deception.

Like Mammon and Levi, Asmo will want to be close to you out in public, but he will come across as far more relaxed than those two. This is partly due to his more developed confidence and because it makes it easier for him to charm potential threats into leaving you alone. Things are taken care of quickly after that.

Should you get injured well… Asmo will not be much help for anything aside from getting you to someone who actually can. He'd likely panic worse than Mammon, so do your best to remain calm and assure him that you will be fine after a little assistance.

His treatment of you post-injury won't differ much from how it usually is, because again, he knows that when there's a human involved - it's bound to happen.

Asmo's fear of others, both tragically and ironically, stems from his sin itself. Though he always tries to champion his partners' consent, he knows more than anyone that others can let their Lust drive them mad... His worst nightmare is letting you fall victim to one of those monsters because, frankly, he wouldn't know what to do with himself if that ever were to happen.

Beelzebub

Beel is protection incarnate. This is something he's been doing long before you met and will likely continue to do until the end of his days. Protecting those he loves is in his nature.

That being said, this means is you are dating the equivalent of a demon-shaped Doberman Pinscher, loving and loyal to you and an absolute nightmare to your enemies.

Though he doesn't feel quite the same need to hang off you as Mammon might, Beel's protection can be likened to something like a hired-bodyguard. Close, but not too close, and always vigilant almost to a territorial degree.

If someone Beel doesn't like approaches you, he may growl at them. We would recommend you heed his warning. Beel is generally a good judge of character, and if something strikes him as off, then there may be cause for concern.

Fortunately for you, Beel does not jump to conclusions nor confrontation very often. Though he may act intimidating, he won't make any moves unless given an "Okay" from you beforehand.

This, however, does NOT apply if someone actually hurts you in any way. Though he may seem sweet and wholesome, please remember, he is a demon and the demon of Gluttony at that. Someone will be eaten for their transgressions, but he would rather you not watch if possible.

Truthfully, what will scare Beel far more than possible attackers are injuries in and of themselves. He has what basic first aid is afforded to anyone who plays sports but is nowhere near qualified to save you from something life-threatening... Should you become injured or sick, it would devastate him that he can no longer take care of you. He may even be at risk of a small breakdown as a result.

The events of Celestial War have perhaps taken their heaviest toll on Beel. Whether it's true or not, he carries a lot of the blame for what happened on his shoulders... The idea of going through something like that again, but now with you, scares him more than anything. Please remember, under that kind exterior lies dormant wounds that will likely remain unhealed long after you're gone...

Belphegor

Belphegor is a strange case because, in some respects, he is one of the most possessive of the brothers... But he's also the least overtly protective.

Part of it is, yes, his inherent laziness. Following you around all day would be quite a hassle. He also can't expect you to stay in bed with him 24/7 (not that he lets that stop him from trying). Even setting up complex background machinations to keep an eye on you would be too much work...

But that doesn't mean that he leaves you alone entirely. If there is one thing that Belphegor tries to shield you from, it's his brothers. For possessive reasons, yes, but also as a form of protection.

Belphie is acutely aware of how often his brothers' shenanigans can lead to disaster. As such, he'll try to drag you out of their problems as much as possible.

It's not lost on him that the events that lead to your first demise were all due your penchant for meddling in his brothers' affairs. So in his eyes, a fairly simple and effective way to keep you out of trouble would be to keep you from them as much as possible.

As far as injuries go… "He dislikes seeing you hurt" is the least complicated way of putting things. Seeing you with major injuries obviously triggers some uncomfortable and unwanted memories for him, as it would for you. However, his emotions quickly get muddled up in it...

The sudden combination of fear, panic, shame, and anger can strike him at once and leave him in a frozen or vulnerable state... Painful for sure, but also not helpful in that situation. Minor injuries, thankfully, do not cause this reaction.

If you're injured and Belphegor appears to be going through trauma, we recommend calling for assistance from someone nearby or a different brother if possible (Satan would be a good option). Once you're stable, Belphegor will be relaxed somewhat but may need some cuddling.

Even with his lazy attitude, Belphegor does care for you and will try to keep you safe in his own way. He may hide the intensity of his emotions behind a veil of apathy, but they run so strong that they can be paralyzing. Never doubt that he does love you, and try your best to be there for him when things become difficult...

More from the How-To series in Masterlist 1.0; More recent HCs in Masterlist 2.0

#obey me #obey me shall we date #shall-we-date-obey-me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me beelzebub #obey me belphegor #obey me headcanons #obey me how tos #obey me scenarios #tw: possessive behavior #tw: ptsd

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merakiui · 3 years

Note

hii could we get an angsty scenario/hcs of xiao and scaramouche/any characters you prefer! who are basically head over heels for someone but that person keeps getting with the wrong people and constantly getting their heart broken? Preferably with a good/fluffy ending but it’s up to you!

cw: angst + heartbreak note - decided to go for scenarios! (❁´▽`❁)*✲ﾟ*

[Xiao]

One Call Away—

The sudden shout of his name had brought him out into the open, where he finds you sitting in a field of wildflowers, your head hung and quiet sobs racking your hunched form.

“You called?” The gruffness in his voice startles you and your head snaps up. He notices your pained expression and the tears that refuse to cease, and it gives birth to a strange feeling within his chest. “What happened? Surely I am not too late.” And then he shakes his head. “No, I’m never late.”

“Ah... I’m sorry.” You sniffle, pitifully rubbing at your eyes. “I guess your name slipped out. I didn’t mean to bother you. I just didn’t mean to call for you either.”

Xiao raises a brow and then surveys the surrounding area. “Well, it doesn’t look like you’re in any mortal peril. In that case, I’ll leave you to—”

“No!”

Your sudden shout startles the both of you, with you drawing back and Xiao’s eyes widening ever so slightly. He wonders why you’re crying when beautiful scenery surrounds you. Are you truly that pathetic? Are mortals usually this weak-hearted? Xiao can’t wrap his head around the idea of grief; he’s an immortal who has seen plenty of hazardous scenarios worth grieving over. Yet with the passage of time he has learned to let such emotions drift away on a wind current. Emotions are useless to an adeptus.

But now he’s stuck with them.

“No?”

“D-Don’t go...” Your voice wobbles and you wipe at your reddened eyes. “I don’t want to bother you, but could you stay here with me? For a little while, at least. It’s all I’ll ask...”

He feels like he should decline your desperate plea before it spreads its perplexing roots throughout his system. The words are practically on the tip of his tongue and he struggles to verbalize them. If he could, he’d shake his head and vanish from your sight. There’s something about your expression that forces him to stay, and he truly detests the way his emotions run wild at the prospect of something he can’t quite comprehend.

“Fine.”

And so Xiao listens to you. It’s something he does best; his eyes and ears are open as he gives you his full, undivided attention. Half of him observes your reactions as you explain what happened and the other half zeros in on the way your subtle hand motions. While he might not be anywhere near a cupid—and he would never be caught giving out relationship advice to mortals, which is something he couldn’t do even if he tried—he is still a being of immense power. From what he’s able to understand from your explanation, your loved one decided to part from you because they believed it just wasn’t working. And you, having been struck with an immense sadness, failed to call out to them to clear up any misunderstandings.

Eventually, after internally wrestling with his own thoughts and feelings, he asks, “Do you want me to teach them a lesson? Should you need them to feel the same amount of despair you’re feeling—”

“Oh, no! No. No. They don’t deserve to be punished for that. I understand now that our feelings weren’t the same. We really weren’t working and that’s okay. It just...hurts.”

Xiao tilts his head, an innocently childish show of confusion. “Where?”

“It’s not a physical pain, Xiao. I mean, it could be. But...this is more emotional.” Your hand reaches out, fingers wrapping around his wrist. He stares down at your hand and he almost pulls away. Before he can even consider what’s happening, you’re guiding his hand to where your heart is. “In here. It hurts now, but I’ll overcome it eventually. I’m used to it anyways...”

The straight-faced adeptus remains still as he feels the fast-paced beat of your heart. Mortals have always been weak in his eyes: feeble beings who break at the slightest inconvenience. Although you don’t seem close to shattering and that confuses him more than he’d like to admit. Perhaps you are one of the more resilient humans he’s come across in recent years. It’s strange when he feels your heartbeat, so very certain and alive with the sour feelings a heartbreak brings. He’s never understood that either. Heartbreaks and relationships. The differences between friendship and romance. Both can be seen through to the very end, if fostered healthily.

So then why are you so sad?

Truthfully, you’ve always seemed sad to Xiao. As an adeptus, he’s never been able to fully grasp the meaning behind human emotions. They’re insignificant in his eyes, mere flashes of feeling that can hurt and blind. They’re troublesome and useless—certainly not something he would ever want to experience. But those emotions can heal and bring cheer. They’re not all entirely bad, nor are they as evil as he seems to think they are.

Xiao realizes his hand has been on your chest for a while now and he’s been staring at you so much that you’ve begun to shrink away, partially embarrassed to have him analyze you with so much scrutiny.

“Is...something wrong?”

He shakes his head slowly at first before retracting his arm. And then he notices you’ve stopped crying. He’s not sure when this happened, but he’s oddly relieved to see your neutral expression. Somehow your crying face is painful and it wounds him in a way he never would have imagined.

“Thank you for listening to my rant. I know this is probably meaningless to you, since you’re an adeptus and all, but it really means a lot. So I’m glad I was able to get these things off my chest. I feel a lot lighter now.”

“You’re not sad?”

“Ah. Well...” Your gaze flickers, eyes darting to and fro while you struggle to look at him. “I’m still sad, but I’ll get over it! Don’t worry! I’m resilient!”

Xiao’s brow furrows in confusion. As he has thought plenty of times before, mortals are far too complex. Eventually he sighs and says, “It’s okay to cry. Don’t keep that inside, okay? You’ll just hurt yourself even more.” Now he’s avoiding your gaze and there’s a barely noticeable tinge of pink dusting his pale cheeks. He’s really not good at consoling humans.

“Oh, Xiao.” You pull him in for a hug and he stiffens, trying to squeeze out of your arms like a cat near water. But then he feels your fingers digging into his arm and he realizes that you might actually need this hug. Despite the fact that he’s not used to freely giving out hugs—or even cheering up mortals, for that matter—he is definitely out of his element. “Really, thank you. I promise to make you an Almond Tofu as thanks.”

“There’s no need for that.” Hesitantly, as if he’s worried he’ll break you, he wraps his arms around your form. “I’m just helping you because you called my name. That’s all.”

But that’s not the full truth. Hidden in those words is the real reason why he even bothered to stay despite the false alarm. And it worries Xiao when he thinks about the implications. He really does like you and this admiration has surpassed platonic love. As long as you’re okay, though, he’ll swallow his feelings in favor of making sure you’re always happy. It’s one of his duties as your friend.

Friend. A word Xiao never thought he’d ever use, but it feels nice. He likes it.

Yet The Distance Remains Harrowing.

[Scaramouche]

To Mend a Broken Heart—

You’re spilling your emotional guts in front of the Sixth of the Fatui Harbingers, tears freely running down your cheeks like two faulty water faucets. It’s a pathetic sight, really. Scaramouche witnessed this exact show just a few weeks ago when you were so certain that that fisher was the one. Now, after meeting and getting together with someone else for a short time, you’ve come out of yet another relationship, unhappy and unsatisfied.

He’s jealous. There’s no denying the envy he feels when you talk so highly of these people and then wail about them a few days later. It’s a vicious cycle of mending a fragile heart and then breaking it into pieces all over again. With no end in sight, you fall victim to your own demise in the pursuit of love. He wonders if you’ll ever learn to choose your next partner carefully rather than settling for anything with a pulse.

“This is exactly what I said would happen, was it not?” he says with a sigh. “Oh, woe is you. If you were smarter, this last relationship might have lasted longer.”

“That’s rich coming from you. I’ve never seen you in a relationship before,” you mutter, wiping angrily at your eyes. His eyelid twitches at the not-so-subtle jab. “Ugh!I hate being so unlucky! This is the worst.”

“Rather than your foul luck, I think the problem lies within you and your taste in partners.”

Sniffling, you lower your head onto the table, hoping to just melt into the crafted wood before you end up making even more of a fool out of yourself. It’s rare to be in the company of Scaramouche, considering how often he’s assigned missions that require swift travel and a covert profile. But whenever you do find yourself sitting across from him, indulging in light snacks and tea, it’s always because you’ve lost your latest lover; and your own sadness requires the nullifying effects of Scaramouche’s cynicism.

“They’re good people! I just don’t know why it never works out. We’re happy and we both like each other—it doesn’t make any sense. Am I missing something? Is it my fault? They probably got tired of me because I’m not a good person.“

“Perhaps.” He takes a moment to sip his tea and you muster a weak glare. Only Scaramouche can delight in his beverage while you’re holding back another onslaught of tears. “Your crocodile tears are hardly flattering and your apparent need for consistent affection might come off as clingy. And you have a tendency to find flaws within yourself whenever something doesn’t go your way. Adding onto that, you doubt yourself a lot and you’re always quick to take the blame for things that are out of your control. In a way you are partially—”

“I get it. I’m not a good person.”

“I never said anything of that sort. Now you’re just asking for pity.”

Oh, how close you are to punching that smirk off of his face.

“Then since you seem to know everything, my oh so helpful friend, why don’t you tell me what I’m missing?”

“With pleasure.” His cup finds the surface of the table as he ponders your demand for a moment. “You’re missing someone who meshes well with your personality.”

“That’s not true. Everyone I’ve been with so far—“ His skeptical look makes you stop short. “Okay. Maybe we forced it because we thought it was love. But that’s besides the point! There was still an attraction! I think...” You huff and bury your face in your arms, nearly almost sprawling on the table. You’re too depressed to even consider how impolite your actions look, and Scaramouche scoffs at your poor display of manners. “Where am I even going to find someone who ‘meshes well with my personality,’ hm?”

“I’m sure you’ve already found them.” He clears his throat, tracing a finger along a sanded knot in the wooden table. “You’re sitting across from him.”

Whether he intended for you to hear that whispered part, you can’t say for sure. But your head perks up and you fix him with a lopsided grin. “You’re kidding.”

“Hm?”

“Me and you, a couple?” A small giggle escapes your lips and you swipe the remaining tears out of your eyes. “Don’t joke about that. I’m trying to be sad here!”

It wasn’t a joke, he almost says and he catches himself, suddenly self-conscious.

“I don’t think we’d work out,” you continue, motioning between you and him. “We’d hardly see each other and you don’t seem like the type for romance. Besides, I’m not attracted to you in that way. You feel the same, right?”

Scaramouche stares into his cup before he meets your gaze, a tight smile gracing his expression. “Of course. Your inability to settle isn’t all that attractive.”

Your eyes roll and you finally pick up your own cup to take a large gulp of lukewarm tea. The bitter Harbinger observes your actions with narrowed eyes. There’s a distinct pain that taps at his hardened soul, splitting it apart as your words echo within his spinning head. I don’t think we’d work out. I’m not attracted to you in that way. Why is he suddenly feeling...upset? He’s not one for pitiful emotions; he’s a Harbinger, not a lovesick fool! He ought to glare at you and storm off, demanding the two of you never speak again. But he won’t say that because he doesn’t want to hurt you. Because he cares for you. Because he loves you.

You feel the same, right?

No, that’s not right. This is the love he’s been wallowing in since he first got acquainted with you. It’s strange when he remembers every event that has led up to the blossoming feelings that reside deep in the epicenter of his heart, but it’s even more strange that he can’t find the courage to voice his own opinion.

“We wouldn’t mix,” he reaffirms your statement with a cold tone. There is no warmth in his eyes. “After all, your taste in tea is as bad as your taste in partners.”

And even though he wishes you could see through his walls—just this once he’ll allow you to tear them down for the sake of a half-baked confession—you just sit there and grin, no longer teary-eyed and forlorn. How odd. His heart feels far heavier than it’s ever been before. And you’re already scanning your surroundings, hungry for a love that will never keep you sated. Perhaps you weren’t even sad in the first place.

Upon realizing this, Scaramouche wants nothing more than to disappear into the wood like a feeble worm and never come back out.

You Must Break Another.

#genshin impact #genshin impact x reader #genshin impact scenario #genshin impact xiao #xiao x reader #xiao scenario #xiao #genshin impact scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #scaramouche scenario #scaramouche

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bitsandbobsofwriting · 3 years

Text

A rogue Druid’s “please join us” speech to Merlin triggers a few things:

Gwaine tries to commit regicide, Leon confronts his (understandable) fear of Dragons, and Merlin has a full on mental breakdown.

The knights are left to pick up the pieces and all of them consider following Gwaine’s lead.

ANGSTY ANGSTY

TW: Blood, death, nightmares. Physical and verbal abuse. A very brief implication of potential suicide/self harm.

Everyone notices the sudden changes within the group, it would be hard not to notice.

No one has any clue what happened though.

One day, everything is fine. If they think back, they realise Merlin had seemed a little... nervous? Maybe? But other than that, everything was fine, normal.

But the next day? From then until now, a month later? Everything was different.

Arthur seemed much angrier. He flew off the handle over the smallest mistakes, he worked the knights so hard in training that at least three of them had to go to Gaius for treatment everyday, and he didn’t seem like he planned on letting up any time soon. He snapped at everyone, even Gwen and Gaius, which was unheard of.

Merlin seemed... quieter. The knights, Gwen, and Gaius barely saw him, but when they did, he flinched at even the slightest noise; his eyes constantly darted around, looking for a way to escape, and he wouldn’t let anyone touch him.

They were worried, but Arthur was so constantly furious that no one dared bring it up with him, and the one time they tried to ask Merlin, he came up with some ridiculous excuse and ran away. They thought they had barely seen him before, but after that they didn’t see him at all for at least four days.

They also noticed how both of their worrying moods seemed ten times worse when they were with each other. Even just being in the same room, made Arthur angrier, and Merlin... they didn’t want to think it but... more scared.

After three weeks of this, they gathered together, and put into place their emergency plan. Leon would speak directly to Arthur, and Lancelot would speak directly to Merlin.

Of all of them, they were the most trusted by each target, and were the most likely to get answers, and the least likely to get a bad reaction if answers were refused.

They were... pretty wrong. Merlin reacted in the same way as he had to the group two and a half weeks ago. Which is odd, because he normally tells Lancelot everything, and not only did he not tell him, he lied and came up with excuses.

Leon was much worse for wear. He showed up a while after Lancelot, pale and miserable. Arthur had just yelled at him a bunch and assigned him extra patrols.

A few days later, they were all still struggling with what to do when Arthur informed them of a quest that was to be undertaken. They were... nervous, to say the least. Going on any sort of dangerous trip with Arthur in this state was bound to go badly, but they could hardly refuse, and they definitely couldn’t bring up the issue again.

So they resigned themselves to it. Gwen wished them luck, and made sure to give Merlin an extra tight hug before they left, and Gaius slipped a few extra medical supplies in each of the knights packs, just in case.

Apparently, patrols of Camelot Knights kept going missing. Whole groups of soldiers, in one very specific area near the border, were just not coming back.

Arthur could hardly justify sending more patrols out, so despite his foul mood, and his desperation to stay away from everyone, he took himself, his five best knights, and his manservant.

Elyan could’ve sworn he heard Arthur mutter something along the lines of “As if I’d leave you here unsupervised.”, to Merlin, the tone far less jesting that it might’ve been a month ago, but he kept it to himself. They were travelling and camping together, there would hardly be an opportunity to share without Arthur and Merlin there.

And like they were all expecting, the trip was hell.

Awkward silences that not even Gwaine could fill, Merlin looking close to tears the whole time, and Arthur constantly looking like he’s considering extreme violence.

Merlin even rides at the back of the group (unheard of), doesn’t complain even once about anything (even more unheard of), and the few times he does speak, he addresses all of them by their titles (down-right panic inducing).

They, of course, realise it had been a trap far too late, and before they even had time to shout and draw their swords, the camp fades around them.

When they wake an indiscernible amount of time later, they have been stripped of armour and weapons, and have been shackled.

They appear to be in a circular, one-room hut, the knights spaced equally and chained to the wall. Their cloaks remain, but any chainmail or armour they had been equipped with was gone, leaving them in the thin clothes they wore underneath, completely unprotected.

Merlin stood in the middle of the room, looking very confused. Once he noticed the knights stirring, he tried to take a step towards them, but frowned when he realised he couldn’t get within a arm’s reach of them.

Once the knights came around fully, they realised that whilst Merlin couldn’t move all that much, they couldn’t speak.

Arthur looks to Merlin with fury written all over his face, and pulls violently on his chains. Merlin flinches back and gasps out:

“This has nothing to do with me, I swear!”

Before the rest of the knights have time to change their expressions to one of confusion, a man walks through the door. Everyone’s gazes turn to him quickly, and they take in his appearance.

He looked like a Druid... but not quite right, like he hadn’t actually been to a camp in a while. He wore neutral colours, browns and greens, but despite his calm demeanour and gentle face, he looked a little crazed.

Where Druids stand calmly and walk softly, this man rushed in and fiddled with his hands, eyes darting around the room at everyone’s faces.

When Merlin goes to demand he introduce himself, the Druid holds a hand up, silencing him (no magic, just a gesture), and begins to speak:

“Who I am, does not matter. But I do know who you are, Emrys. I shall explain it your friends first, so they don’t get too lost.-”

The Druid smiles sadly, and turns to the knights, all of whom (apart from Lancelot) stare on in confusion at the melancholy resignation on the Druid’s face, and the dread on Merlin’s. Still unable to speak, and with very limited movement, they reluctantly resign themselves to listening to whatever speech the villain of the week had come up with.

“-Emrys has been being seen in prophetic visions for centuries. Whilst Uther Pendragon was destined to start the purge, Emrys, or as you know him: Merlin, is destined to stop it. He is said to be the most powerful Warlock to ever walk the earth, past present and future. He can bend the very elements of the world, bring down armies, turn cities to ash with a flick of his wrist. But destiny also foretold of The Once and Future King. Most have accepted that Arthur Pendragon, is said king.-”

Merlin was stiff but panicky during the Druid’s explanation, having realised that for whatever reason, he didn’t have access to his magic right now.

He could feel it buzzing under his skin, but every time he tried to pull it forward, it abandoned him, burrowing deep into his soul and hiding.

Merlin was tense and angry, angry that the chance to tell his friends the truth himself had been taken away, but his statue-like stillness is broken as he frowns and flinches slightly at the thinly veiled disgust in the sorcerer’s voice as he says Arthur’s name.

The Knights look confused, and very much shocked, their gazes flickering between the Druid and Merlin, but he refuses to meet their eyes.

“-Together, Emrys and the Forever King are destined to bring harmony and peace to the world, to restore magic’s place alongside the non magic, to inspire compassion, and stop the unjust genocide that Uther started.-”

Arthur and Leon shuffle uncomfortably at the mention of the late King and his sins, but are more focused on the other shocking revelations. The other knights (again, bar Lancelot, who is staring at Merlin apologetically) seem invested in the story, though they’re clearly confused.

Arthur was made aware of Merlin’s magic a few weeks ago, but despite Merlin’s choice to tell him willingly, he had reacted badly, and in his rage, hadn’t allowed Merlin to explain himself. The other knights were, of course, unaware of this, though they quickly put two and two together.

Despite Merlin’s best efforts, Arthur had stayed in the dark about the whole Emrys-prophecy-destiny thing.

The Druid gives each knight a short assessing gaze, seemingly to make sure they were paying attention.

He turns his attention back to Merlin, who is trying very hard to keep his expression blank (and failing) as he listens:

-”And how long have you waited, my friend, for Arthur to play his part in destiny. Ten years, of having the prophecies shoved down your throat by idealists, being told that you have no choice but to serve a man who would see your head on a spike should he know who you truly are. Ten years in the service of a man who has caused you nothing but pain, given you nothing but nightmares.-”

Merlin flinches and looks away. Every magic user in, or even near Camelot shares the same nightmares, all caused by the Pendragon Reign. There’s no need for a discussion about it, no need for a denial.

“-His father ripped your family apart. He himself stood at the grave of your best friend and told you he was evil, he himself killed the woman you loved-”

Arthur frowns in confusion at this. Merlin had never been in love. But he quickly doubts himself when he hears Merlin gasp quietly, and looks to him to see a tear slip down his cheek.

Fury flashes quickly across Lancelot’s face, obviously knowing the story, but he covers it quickly, and no one is the wiser to the anger slowly growing in his chest at what this so-called Druid was putting his friend through.

The Druid speaks his next words quietly, though still loud enough for everyone in the room to hear, as he lifts a soft hand and gently wipes away Merlin’s tear:

“-I know what you see when you close your eyes. I know why you are so exhausted. But do they? Have you told them?-”

The Druid nods his head in the direction of the knights, but doesn’t break eye contact with Merlin, who sniffles slightly before looking to the floor in shame.

“-Of the smoke and flames that you choke on when you sleep? You dream of pyres built just for you, built by the people you care most about. Even when you are awake, every second you have your eyes closed, every time you blink, you are forced to picture your so-called King with a sword at your throat, as if the scene were painted onto the back of your eyelids.-”

His voice had risen as he spoke and he had begun to pace, anger growing at the pain his Lord had gone through. He practically spits the word “King”, like just saying it disgusts him.

Merlin remains quiet, but he has a steady stream of tears down his face as he looks back at the Druid with despair. The knights watch on in anguish as they see the way he is suffering.

Arthur stops feeling angry and confused, and starts to feel a little guilty. Not that he would let it show; he stares on blankly.

Everyone wanted desperately to believe that the Druid was lying, manipulating them, that Merlin would deny it. But he didn’t. And that told them all they needed to know.

The Druid stopped his pacing, coming to a stand still in front of Merlin and cupping one of his cheeks softly with his hand. The knights pretend not to see Merlin lean into it slightly as his tears continue to fall.

The Druid begins again, speaking softly once more:

“-Were those fears unfounded? Were those nightmares irrational? I see the terror in your eyes. I see how petrified of your King you are.-”

Merlin lets out a shaky breath and glances quickly to Arthur, before looking back at the man in front of him.

The King is taken aback, and the knights are furious at the flash of fear on Merlin’s face when his gaze had momentarily met Arthur’s.

“-What did he do, when he found out? When you bared your soul and gave him nothing but honesty, and undeserved apologies. What did he do?-”

Merlin lets out his first audible sob, and the Knights pull at their chains slightly, desperate to comfort their friend. Arthur slumps back, remembering his actions as if they were mere hours ago.

One of Merlin’s hands lifted to cover his mouth as he chokes back a second sob, but the other lifts subconsciously to tug at the scarf around his neck.

The Druid lets a single tear escape his eye as he waves his hand gently, the scarf disappearing with the gentle golden glow of his eyes.

Merlin seems too distraught to notice; and moves both hands to clamp tightly over his mouth as tears stream down his face. His shoulders hunch, but not enough for any of the knights to miss what the Druid had clearly been trying to expose; a thin, barely healed scar along the base of his throat. As if a sword had been pressed there.

The Druid’s eyes lose focus slightly and he frowns as he ghosts a finger over the scar, seemingly asking the next question to himself:

“-Nightmares on the back of your eyelids, or visions of the future, hmm?-”

His eyes refocus, and he cards a hand through Merlin’s hair, trying to calm the man’s heartache as the knights stare on in horror.

Arthur resists the urge to look towards his knights, not wanting to see the disgusted glares he knows they’re sending his way.

The Druid pauses for a moment in his speech, waiting for Merlin to calm slightly before he quietly continued:

“-And what has he done since then? Has he allowed explanation? Has he seen the error of his ways and tried to understand? Or has he called you a liar, and a traitor. Has he called you a monster, whilst demanding that you continue to serve him?-”

Merlin’s breathing grows deeper as he struggles to control his sobs. He lowers his hands to be clenched at his sides, shaking, as the Druid softly places his hands on his shoulders.

His next words are spoken even quieter, though the knights can still hear him and the deadly anger that’s barely concealed in the man’s tone:

“-Has he laid hands on you, and called you a beast, while you cowered in fear, knowing that if you defended yourself he would see himself proven right?-”

Merlin let’s out loud, gasping sobs once more as the Druid’s hands travel softly down, from his shoulders to his wrists. There, he looks down, sorrow on his face as he carefully lifts Merlin’s sleeves, bunching them around his elbows.

The knights decide then and there they are going to protect Merlin no matter what, no matter from whom, as they each see the handprint shaped bruises littering Merlin’s arms.

“-He has hurt you, over and over and over-”

As he speaks, the Druid hovers his hands over the bruises, his eyes glowing softly golden as they heal.

“-And you despair, believing yourself worthless-”

Merlin flinches, and his sobbing grows more intense as his face is taken in soft hands.

“-waiting on a Golden Age that he refuses to bring. He is cruel, and unjust, how many more times must he hurt you? How many more of our people will the Pendragon line slaughter, out of misguided hatred? How much more sleep must you lose? How many more nightmares must you endure? You have stood loyally by his side for a decade, and had to stand and watch as he continued his father’s legacy, forced to believe it was destiny.-”

The Druid says “destiny” as if he hates the taste of the word in his mouth, the bloodshed of the past almost thirty years clearly having made him lose faith in the prophecies.

Merlin’s breathing has calmed slightly, and the knights aren’t sure whether to be relieved or frightened, as the Druid desperately continues, clutching Merlin’s hands in his own:

“-Too many lives have been lost, too much innocent blood spilt. Haven’t you yourself been forced to kill your own people to protect this False King from the consequences of his own actions?-”

The knights think too soon as Merlin’s breathing and sobs grow erratic once more. The manservant almost falls to the floor, his eyes clenched desperately shut, and only the Druids hands on his shoulders keeping him upright:

“-I was young, and naïve once. I too, believed in Arthur Pendragon, I believed in the prophecies, I believed he would a great king and a good man-”

He leans forward, pressing his forehead to Merlin’s as he gently says:

“-but he is not. He has failed you, and failed our people.-”

The Druid steps back, but still holds Merlin’s shoulder tightly as he gives him a pleading look.

The knights know what’s coming before it is said, and with the anguish and desperation and grief on their friend’s face? After they learned what their benevolent King had done? Well... they wouldn’t have blamed Merlin for saying yes.

“-I ask you to join me, Emrys. I know it’s difficult, to give up on a man you gave so much of yourself to, but there is too much Uther in him. It’s time, and you know this, to rewrite destiny. Dig your own path, liberate your own people, bring magic and compassion and harmony back to the world yourself.-”

Merlin, though distraught, still looks doubtful, and the knights hold their breath as the Druid continues, becoming more and more furious at their inability to speak.

All of them have tears in their eyes, if not falling already, even Arthur, though he has remained still and blank through the tears.

“-I know the flames you fear, the sword’s edge, the gallows’ drop, the axe’s fall. Do not let our kin continue to fear those things, do not stand by, waiting for the Pendragon tyrant to change, and allowing sacrifices to be made in the mean time.-”

Merlin’s sobbing begins again, and the Druid kisses him softly on the forehead before kneeling to the floor, gripping Merlin’s hands and looking up at him desperately:

"-You are Emrys, Lord of the Druids, and Conduit for all magic of this world. Not some servant that an entitled brat can toss around and treat lesser than the dirt he walks on. You are my King, our King. Not him.-”

He stands again and grips Merlin’s arms tightly, most likely leaving more bruises in place of the ones he had healed.

Merlin doesn’t notice the pain, but shakes his head stutteringly, still crying.

“-Do not let your people lose you to Arthur, as Arthur lost himself to Uther. To give up on him is painful, but the screams of your kin, burning for their gifts, echoing in your skull day and night?-”

The Druid’s hands move up to grip the sides of Merlin’s head, and he shakes him ever so slightly, his tone frantic and pleading:

“-That is worse. That is pain he will never understand, and certainly never care for. Join me, please my Lord I beg you, for our people.”

One of the Druid’s hands slides lower, to softly cup Merlin’s cheek again, but the other drops entirely.

The knights have never resented being magically gagged more than in this moment. They could do nothing but watch on in horror as the man summons a dagger behind his back.

The Druid is clearly waiting on his response, and Merlin is too distraught to notice the consequences of a wrong answer, tears flowing quickly down his face and ugly sobs forcing their way out of his throat.

Arthur watches in terror, knowing that this was his fault, that every shitty, selfish decision he had ever made had to led to this point. And the knights knew it too.

All they can do is pray to every deity they know the name of, that Arthur has done enough damage for Merlin to say yes. And oh, what a terrible thing to pray for.

The Druid softly strokes Merlin’s cheekbone with his thumb as the Warlock takes a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He looks up, meeting the gaze of the man opposite him before croaking:

“I... I can’t. Arthur is a good man, I have faith that he will-”

Before he can finish his sentence, the dagger is thrust up into his chest, his words stuttering to a stop and his red-rimmed eyes growing wide at the sudden, agonising pain spreading throughout his body.

Merlin is vaguely aware of the knights pulling roughly at their chains, but he pays them no mind as blood gurgles up his throat and he frowns, struggling to hear what the Druid was whispering in his ear:

“Then you have forsaken your people, and so I shall forsake you. Traitor.”

With that, Merlin is dropped roughly to the floor, dagger still imbedded in his chest as he lands on his side. Blood spills from both his mouth and the wound, eyes unfocused but heavy as the tears continue to overflow.

The knights are silently screaming, thrashing against their chains as their friend chokes, but Merlin ignores them in favour of smiling gently at the soft feeling of nothing, growing outwards from his chest.

He frowns once more, as though remembering something, and his eyes go glassy as two words escape from his mouth, barely a whisper:

“I’m... sorry...”

An apology to whom, no one knows, but with those last words his body goes completely still, the pool of blood still expanding beneath him, and his eyes unseeingly staring just to the left of The King.

No one in the room can tear their eyes from Merlin’s pale corpse, face now a mess of tears and blood.

The Druid looks down at him with an odd mix of contempt, and genuine sorrow. He had obviously waited long enough that his resentment of Arthur had bled into his feelings for his so-called saviour, but still grieved for what could have been.

The Knights look at him in horror, all understanding that they had never been lucky, they had just had Merlin. He had never asked for thanks, or recognition, or reward. He had kept them all safe, at great expense to himself, and now he was dead.

Lancelot seems the... calmest, though he still cries like the rest of them. He had, in theory, known of the pain Merlin was in, but had he known it was plaguing him to this extent... well perhaps he wouldn’t have been so loyal to Arthur.

Arthur himself stares at Merlin with nothing but terror and agonising grief. He had done this. If he had just let Merlin explain, if he had just given him five minutes, instead of bruises and nightmares and fear, then he would still be alive.

If he hadn’t been so selfish and cruel, perhaps hundreds of people, just like Merlin, just as scared and innocent as Merlin, would also be alive.

Merlin had spent his entire time in Camelot trying to convince Arthur that he wasn’t his father... and Arthur had gone and proven him wrong at every turn. And even then Merlin still had faith, still called him a good man.

The silencing spell still has hold over the knights, so they cry and scream and thrash soundlessly as the Druid finally rips his gaze from the body at his feet.

He steps carefully around Merlin to stand in front of Arthur. The sorrow clears from his face, leaving only contempt and rage left to be directed at the man in front of him. Arthur does not look up, keeping his tear stained face focused on the floor, even as the Druid begins to speak:

“You see what you have done, Arthur Pendragon? You think magic is the thing that corrupts, but it is not. It is you. Emrys was meant to be a saviour, a God, a guiding light to help our people to safety, but you tainted him, reduced him to nothing more than a sad, scared boy, and then reduced him further, to a corpse. My hands are clean of blood Pendragon, but yours?? Oh, yours are drenched in it.”

Arthur slowly lifts his distraught gaze to the Druid, but quickly widens his eyes at what he sees.

Merlin stands behind the Druid, eyes glowing golden, tears once more streaming down his face as he grips the handle of the dagger, still buried in his chest.

The bloodstains grow even larger as he grimaces slightly and pulls it free, before wordlessly forcing it through the Druid’s back.

The man lets out a sudden gasp, and looks down to see just the tip of the blade poking out where his heart should be. He gargles something, words that no one can make out, before Merlin pulls the dagger out again, and his body crumples to the floor.

The knights and Arthur can feel the silencing spell release them, but none of them make even a noise as they stare in shock at their tormented, but very much alive, friend.

Merlin drops the dagger from his hand and it lands with a splash in the mixing puddles of blood, before he himself falls harshly to his knees.

The others finally break out of their stupor, once again pulling towards their friend. Their cries and shouts of his name can be heard by everyone but him as he leans forward, placing his forehead against that of the lifeless Druid.

His cries grow erratic again as he whispers apology after apology, and every heart breaks even more at the sight before them.

They know why he apologises, they know why he grieves, even over a man who had tried to... had succeeded in killing him. The death of yet another of his own kind who was sick of waiting, who was rightfully angry, was not something to be celebrated.

They had thought, at the beginning of this, that they would get through whatever the Druid threw at them, they always did. But this, the brokenness of one of their dearest friends, was not something that looks fixable.

Merlin finally sits up again and he sobs louder, still deaf and blind to those around him. Lancelot has just enough time to yell at the others to cover their eyes, as a gut-wrenching scream escapes the Warlock.

They’re almost blinded, even with their eyes tightly shut and their arms thrown up. The scream is the loudest, and most anguished they’ve ever heard, and the force in which Merlin releases his magic completely eviscerates the hut they had been chained in.

Each of them is thrown violently backwards, and their chains crumble to the floor with the rest of the building as they try to find purchase on the ground. None of them are hurt too badly, and they’re grateful for the fact that even in this state, Merlin’s magic seems incapable of really causing them any damage.

The scream ends, and the knights look up to see Merlin sat in the middle of the crater he had created, staring blankly into the middle distance. Tears still stream down his face, but he doesn’t move and he makes no sound, just kneels there with his blood soaked hands on his lap, palms towards the sky.

It takes a few moments for the knights to regain their senses, but once they do, all hell breaks loose.

Gwaine immediately gets to his feet and makes a rush towards Arthur, fully intending on throttling him, screaming obscenities as he went, but Percival and Elyan jump forward, grabbing an arm each and dragging him away as he curses the King and the Sky and the Gods.

As much as Percival and Elyan were not impartial to killing Arthur right now, Merlin was the priority, and as much as he may have deserved it, Merlin would never forgive them if they hurt the King.

Arthur seems to be unaware of the attempt on his life made by one of his most trusted knights, and just stares blankly at an equally blank Merlin.

Lancelot and Leon make a bee-line for the Warlock, but stop just short of touching him, not knowing how he would react.

Leon nods gently at Lancelot, clearly having picked up that this knight had already known at least part of the story. Lancelot returns his nod, before moving forward slowly. The body of the Druid lays untouched at Merlin’s knees, and the knight removes his cloak, laying it over him, before reaching a slow hand towards Merlin’s shoulder.

He finally makes contact after a little hesitation, whispering his name as gently and as comfortingly as he is able with tears still leaking from his eyes.

Merlin doesn’t react at all to Lancelot’s touch, not even when he takes his bloody hand, or shakes his shoulder slightly; just sits and stares and cries.

Leon gulps before reaching forward himself. He grabs the dagger from besides Merlin and tosses it behind him (he didn’t like to think about that action too much. He has no idea what state his friend is in right now, best to not have any sharp instruments within his reach when he came to.) before lifting his hand to wipe away the man’s tears.

Arthur stares upon all of this in horror from his position sprawled on the floor a few metres away.

Elyan and Percival have just about managed to calm Gwaine, and they begin making their way to Leon, Lancelot, and Merlin, but before they get even halfway there, Arthur finally speaks.

His voice breaks, and is barely audible, but everyone hears him nonetheless as he murmurs:

“I did this...”

Gwaine makes another run at him, regaining his anger, and Percival and Elyan just about manage to grab him before he commits regicide.

Lancelot and Leon look up at him sharply, but when Lancelot lowers his gaze and continues to try and rouse Merlin, Leon holds the King’s gaze, and says strongly:

“Yes. Yes you did, My Lord.”

Arthur’s face crumbles even more, and Leon glares at him with venom for a few more seconds, before giving Lancelot a soft pat on the back, and walking towards the other three.

He mumbles a few harsh things that only Gwaine can hear, who responds at first with more anger, but then resignation. The First Knight gives the man a pat on the back and nods knowingly at Elyan and Percival. No one, not even Gwaine, pretends to miss the meaning of “be ready to catch him again” in the gesture.

Arthur stays in his position on the floor as the four of them walk softly towards Merlin and Lancelot, but before they get there, everyone’s gazes are drawn to the shadow in the sky, getting closer and closer.

It moves with an alarming place, and their anger at Arthur is momentarily forgotten as he scrambles up and screams:

“DRAGON!!”

Gwaine, Elyan, Percival and Arthur rush forward to stand between the beast and the other three. They have no armour or weapons, but like hell were they just going to let it get to them.

Lancelot looks up to see the white, horse sized beast land heavily in front of The King, his eyes widen and he jumps up, rushing forward to push between the others.

Leon moves to hold a still unresponsive Merlin behind his back protectively, but frowns in confusion when Lancelot yells at Arthur (who had been about to run at the beast):

“NO! No don’t hurt her! She’s Merlin’s, don’t hurt her!”

Everyone looks at him in confusion and fear as he slowly approaches the Dragon, she had been growling lowly at first, but seemed to perk up when she saw Lancelot.

Lancelot gives her a small smile, and holds his hand out, allowing her to come to him, before quietly saying:

“I’ve never been more glad to see you, Aithusa. Merlin is over here.”

He turns back towards the others, and calmly, but forcefully says:

“Move. She needs to see him.”

Gwaine nods after a moment, trusting Lancelot, and moves out of the way. Arthur goes to argue, but Elyan and Percival roughly shove him to the side, clearing a path to Merlin and Leon for Lancelot and the new, slightly terrifying, arrival.

Leon looks up fearfully, still in front of Merlin protectively. He stares at the Dragon for a few moments, breathing deeply, before looking up at Lancelot. Lancelot gives him a weak smile, and a nod before saying quietly:

“He’s a Dragon-Lord. She can help him, it’s ok.”

Leon gulps, before nodding, and stepping out of the way. He doesn’t move too far, obviously still affected by his last encounter with a Dragon, and watches with unconcealed suspicion as Aithusa prances around Lancelot at his nod.

The others crowd closer as well, looking on in confusion, awe, suspicion, as Aithusa slowly approaches Merlin.

She lays down at his side, gently pressing her head onto Merlin’s hands, still in his lap. Her mouth opens and Leon gasps as she blows a gentle mist up into his face. Merlin’s back straightens and the knights can see his eyes come back into focus as he blinks.

They all stare with bated breath as he gulps, and begins to notice his surroundings; looking in fear at the crater around him.

Merlin is broken from his growing panic as Aithusa chirps softly from his lap, and his head whips down, only now noticing her.

The knights let out a collective breath as he smiles, very slightly and very briefly, but still; after what they had just seen him go through they would take anything. He leans his head down, and wraps his arms around the creature. She chirps once again, louder this time, as she uses her tail to push away the forgotten Druid’s corpse.

She curls her body around Merlin protectively, and he collapses even further into the semi-embrace she’s giving him. The knights smile slightly, relieved that Merlin seems responsive, and safe, before they take slow steps towards the two of them.

She whips her head up quickly and growls at them, digging her front claws into the ground. They take in sudden breaths and stop moving, wary, but she stops growling when she looks to Lancelot.

The others stare on in shock and confusion as she tilts her head slightly, and Lancelot nods as he quietly says:

“They’re friends, it’s ok.”

The creature seems to nod, and the others follow behind Lancelot as he begins moving towards Merlin again.

He crouches down, and gives Aithusa a well-received scratch on the chin, before he gently places a hand between Merlin’s shoulder-blades.

Percival, Elyan, Gwaine, and finally Leon follow suit, sitting carefully next to the Dragon, but unlike Lancelot, they don’t touch her, or Merlin. She may seem safe and loving and on their side, but she was still a Dragon.

Arthur moves a little slower, not sure if he’s welcome (he’s not) but when he gets within five feet of the group huddled on the floor, Aithusa lifts her head and growls again.

Elyan and Percival are shocked at the sudden movement, but Gwaine smirks, and Leon nods his head approvingly (though he’s still understandably... nervous). Lancelot looks back at a shocked and still tear-stricken Arthur, and speaks. His voice is quiet, but his tone is vicious:

“They have a mental link; she sees what he sees. It might be best, Your Majesty, for you to stay away.”

He doesn’t bother to watch Arthur’s reaction; he turns back and begins carding a soft hand through Merlin’s hair. He flinches only slightly before relaxing under the soft ministrations, and Aithusa gives Lancelot an affectionate lick on the arm.

The other knights do see the way that Arthur flinches, before he gives a shaky nod and takes a few steps back. He goes to say something, but the tears in his eyes overflow, and he turns to walk away.

Gwaine’s smirk grows slightly before he drops it entirely and turns back to the others, no longer caring what Arthur got up to. He is the first of the knights, other than Lancelot, to be brave enough to reach a hand forward and stroke Aithusa gently.

Elyan and Percival hesitatingly follow his lead, and Aithusa chirps happily at the attention. Leon’s gaze follows Arthur as he walks towards the horses.

They were far away, well out of the way of Merlin’s blast, but even with the distance Leon could see they were shaken. Thankfully they had been tied to the trees, otherwise he’s certain they would have bolted.

Leon finds it only slightly surprising that he feels no sympathy for the King. There’s only so much you can forgive a man for. When Arthur finally reaches the horses and begins untacking them, he looks away, back to Aithusa and Merlin.

Everyone can tell that Camelot’s First Knight is still rather shaken at the presence of the Dragon, but when Merlin looks up slightly to see him still sat there, unwilling to leave him, his heart swells a little.

Leon meets his gaze and gulps, but returns Merlin’s shaky smile.

The other knights smile as well, glad that Merlin was feeling at least a little better, and Percival speaks quietly, not wanting to spook him (or the Dragon):

“Hey, there’s our lucky charm.”

The other knights give him questioning looks but Merlin just chuckles slightly, before sitting up properly, and focusing his attention on running his fingers over Aithusa’s scales, picking out grass and mud.

Percival looks indignant before replying, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world:

“What? You honestly thought that tree branches only fell if there was a fight happening, and then only fell on the enemies?? The rock-falls? The fires even when it was pouring with rain?? The miraculous solutions to end-of-the-world type problems?? Come on, guys.”

The others look taken aback at that, but Lancelot just smiles knowingly. They all look to Merlin, who has managed to wipe the blood from his face with his sleeve, and he just shrugs slightly.

The rest of them, bar Leon, let out small huffs of laughter, and continue to stroke Aithusa, knowing that Merlin almost certainly isn’t ready for an actual conversation yet.

Merlin looks at Leon’s pale form assessingly, before a look of realisation crosses his face. The knight is tense, and staring at Aithusa’s sharp teeth with worry, but his gaze is quickly drawn to Merlin when he reaches a shaky hand towards him.

Merlin gives him an understanding smile, and crooks his fingers, encouraging the curly-haired knight to take his hand. Leon does so, and his breath hitches as Merlin lowers their intertwined hand to rest on the top of Aithusa’s head.

Leon lets out a slow breath as he feels Elyan’s supportive hand on his back, but relaxes fully when he sees the sparkle in Merlin’s eyes. Anything to make their Warlock happy in this moment. And forever, probably.

Gwaine looks at Leon out of the corner of his eye, and says lowly:

“I’m fairly certain I’m going to try and kill him if I look at him again, so what’s the King up to?”

Merlin tenses slightly, but Leon squeezes his hand and he relaxes again. Lancelot raises and eyebrow and before Leon can reply, he says:

“What, no princess?”

Gwaine narrows his eyes before gruffly saying:

“Princess was an affectionate nickname, and I’m not feeling all that affectionate towards him right now.”

The others nod knowingly, turning their attention back to Merlin and Aithusa. Leon leaves his hand in Merlin’s, but looks at Gwaine before saying lowly:

“He went to deal with the horses. Now we know we no longer need a quick get-away, they need untacking and feeding and watering. They were pretty spooked by... they were pretty spooked.”

Leon looks back at Merlin when his hand gets squeezed, to see him frowning slightly. Leon catches his eye and gives him a small smile, but Merlin just gets teary-eyed again, before sniffing and muttering:

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to I just... I’m sorry.”

Only a single tear has time to fall before Lancelot has his hand on Merlin’s shoulder again (comfortingly), and Elyan has his hand on Gwaine’s shoulder (forcefully). Leon shakes his head softly, and responds in a gentle voice:

“You don’t have anything to apologise for Merlin, we are the ones who should be sorry, for not being able to protect you.”

Merlin’s frown deepens, and he goes to retort, but Gwaine beats him to it, obviously trying to keep the anger out of his voice:

“From the so-called Druid and from him. We should have done better.”

Leon can feel Merlin’s hand begin to shake, so he squeezes it once more as Merlin shakes his head and speaks, his voice sounding stronger already:

“It’s not his fault. He was just shaken and scared and I should have-”

Gwaine clenches his jaw, struggling to keep control of his rage, but Elyan grips his shoulder tighter in warning, and replies in his stead, interrupting Merlin:

“There’s no excuse Merlin. All of us have been attacked by magic, but equally, all of us have been attacked by swords. I mean look at Leon, giving Dragons a second chance after what happened. I would perhaps understand brief anger, but there is no way to justify laying his hands on you in such a way that leaves bruises, and certainly no justification for putting a blade to your throat.”

Merlin frowns, and looks like he wants to argue, but once again, a knight beats him to it, Lancelot this time:

“No, Merls. We know how much he means to you. But what he did was wrong, there’s no rationalisation. We all know that you’ve already forgiven him, and that’s why we can’t yet. Probably not for a while.”

Merlin sighs, looking pained, and Leon uses his other hand to tilt his chin up:

“Not to say that we won’t ever forgive him. But someone has to be angry at him for what he’s done, and Lord knows you aren’t gonna do it. Consider us your stand-ins.”

Merlin smiles slightly, and Leon considers that a win, returning the smile and nodding slightly to himself, before looking back down at the Dragon, now seemingly asleep, and purring, on Merlin’s lap.

Elyan releases the death grip on Gwaine’s shoulder, when the now much calmer knight, with a smile on his face, says:

“So... you have a Dragon??”

Merlin chuckles fondly, before looking to him and saying quietly:

“Yeah. Her name is Aithusa. I’m surprised she came alone, Kilgharrah usually doesn’t like it when she runs off.”

Lancelot winces slightly as the other knights look shocked, before Percival says:

“Kil-what-now? There’s another one??”

Merlin grimaces slightly, before looking to Leon worriedly and tightening the grip on his hand:

“Uhh... yeah. Kilgharrah is the name of the Dragon that... attacked Camelot a few years ago.-”

Leon straightens his back and gulps, but doesn’t remove his hand from Merlin’s, nodding at him to continue:

“-I didn’t have control over him until right at the end. I told him to leave and never come back, unless I called him-”

Lancelot makes a noise of realisation as he nods, and interrupts Merlin:

“That’s probably why Aithusa came alone. You didn’t call for her, and technically we’re still within Camelot’s borders. He couldn’t come even if he wanted to. Poor sod is probably clomping around at the edge of the border freaking out.”

Merlin looks to Lancelot and nods, satisfied to feel Leon relax a bit, before looking back to the First Knight apologetically:

“-He does feel really bad at that. He just wanted to get back at Uther for the whole... genocide thing I guess. But that’s no excuse. I just didn’t want to be the one to be responsible for killing the last Dragon, even if Kilgharrah personally might’ve deserved it at the time. That was all before Aithusa came along.”

Everyone nods in understanding, before focussing their attention back on Aithusa. She really was like a giant puppy, even if they had to be wary to avoid her claws as she twitched in her sleep.

Merlin sighs, looking forlorn once again as he realises how exhausted he is, knowing that they’re going to have to get up and make camp at some point.

He can cope with an awkward, tense silence between him and Arthur easily enough, that’s what the last few weeks had consisted of. But an awkward and tense silence between everyone? Elyan and Percival inwardly fuming? Gwaine outwardly fuming? Leon and Lancelot being all protective? He’s not sure he can deal with that.

At Merlin’s sigh, Lancelot tilts his head to catch his eye. His brow creases as he says softly:

“What is it, Merls?”

Merlin looks up, still squeezing Leon’s hand, before quietly replying:

“Nothing, I’m just tired. We have to re-make camp at some point and I’m not sure if I can deal with everyone being so...”

He waves his free hand around loosely, and Lancelot huffs out a laugh, before kicking Gwaine, getting everyone’s attention:

“We have to go make camp. But Merlin is exhausted, and doesn’t want to deal with any of this shit tonight, so we’re all going to have to play nice for the time being.”

Gwaine growls, and quickly retorts:

“Like hell am I gonna treat him with-”

Lancelot kicks him again, harder this time, and Elyan replaces the harsh hand on his shoulder before forcefully saying:

“Right now, it doesn’t matter what Arthur deserves. Merlin needs peace and quiet, and that’s what we’re going to give him.”

Gwaine grumbles, but begrudgingly nods, and Merlin gives him a grateful smile.

The knights all stand up, and Merlin shakes Aithusa awake, giving a small chuckle when she stretches like a cat.

Once she takes her weight off of his lap, Merlin follows the knights to stand, almost falling over at the weakness in his legs. Leon and Lancelot catch an arm each, steadying him as he shuts his eyes tightly, willing the dizziness away.

He feels a hand wipe the hair from his forehead, and opens his eyes slowly to see Percival checking him over with an assessing gaze:

“I’m fine, just tired, a little dizzy.”

Lancelot nods in understanding, humming slightly:

“Hmm. I’m not surprised, you haven’t done anything this big in a while, and I doubt you’ve slept well in the last few weeks.”

Merlin gives him a sheepish look as he shakes his head, but it’s Elyan’s questioning gaze that Lancelot responds to:

“I found out by accident when I first met him. Our Warlock isn’t very good at keeping secrets.”

He says it with a small smirk as he looks back down to Merlin, who’s looking indignant:

“Hey! I managed to keep everyone else from finding out.”

Gwaine looks guilty as he raises his arm quietly:

“Actually uh... I knew. I mean not about the whole Emrys, prophecy thing. But the magic stuff, yeah.”

Merlin looks at him, shocked. The other knights share his expression for just a moment before they laugh at the look on Merlin’s face:

“How?!”

Gwaine puts his arm down and laughs again:

“Mate... we met in the middle of a tavern fight, in which shit started literally flying about the moment you joined in.-”

He shrugged, before casually continuing:

“-I figured you would tell me when you wanted to. Until then, it wasn’t my secret to know. You also have me to thank for backing you up every time The Prick asked if I saw you at the tavern.”

Merlin laughed and nodded his thanks, before looking over to where said Prick was setting up camp, a few metres beyond the edge of the crater.

His face fell slightly and the others follow his gaze, tensing slightly in anger when they saw what he was looking at. Merlin takes his arms from Leon and Lancelot, finally feeling steady on his feet, before quietly saying:

“Come on, we might as well get this over with. I’m starving, and tired, and Aithusa will get bored if we don’t start entertaining her.”

Everyone turns around to see Aithusa (now she was sure that her Lord was ok), prancing about in the crater; chasing birds and digging holes.

Merlin raises an eyebrow and everyone else chuckles slightly. Gwaine pushes Lancelot out of the way and takes Merlin’s hand, beginning to walk determinedly towards camp. Everyone catches up quickly, Leon taking Merlin’s other hand when the man had reached out to grab his cape.

Gwaine looks down at Merlin, seeing how nervous he is, and says:

“So. How long until she’s big enough to be ridden? I want you to take me flying, Merlin.”

Merlin chuckles, and looks back to see Aithusa happily trailing them:

“Not for a while. Dragons grow slow, so it’ll be another few years at least. Plus she’s got some issues with bone growth that we’re still trying to fix. She’ll be fine in the long run, but her development is taking a lot longer than normal. She still can’t speak.”

Everyone stops at that, and Merlin’s arms get yanked back when he continued walking. He turns to see Leon giving him an incredulous look:

“Dragons can speak?!”

Merlin tilts his head in confusion, before laughing and tugging them forwards again:

“Yeah. I forget that Uther basically erased all knowledge on Dragons, but they’re just as intelligent as we are. Kilgharrah would like to think that they’re more intelligent, but he’s always been a cryptic, egotistical bastard.-”

The others follow his pace and nod, but the mood darkens as they almost reach the camp. Merlin continues faintly, but quickly:

“I’ll tell you everything I know when... when we get back.”

Leon squeezes his hand, knowing that he was about to say “if”, assuring him that “when” is the right word.

Arthur looks up at the group and gulps from his place next to the fire. He straightens up, the anxiety showing clearly on his face, but before anyone can say anything, Aithusa jumps in between him.

He falls back at the sudden movement and she begins to growl; he widens his eyes as she stalks slowly towards him.

Gwaine smirks again, the others managing to keep their faces blank, but Merlin looks shocked, before he jumps forward and puts a hand on the Dragon’s back:

“Aithusa no. He’s a... friend. It’s ok, he’s-”

Arthur jumps to his feet and interrupts him:

“No, no it’s fine. I’ll... go... sit over there.”

He gestures behind him, and walks quickly away from the fire, sitting just within the fire’s light, the evening dimming around them.

Aithusa tilts her head, snaps her jaws at him once more before completely changing disposition. She begins bouncing around the fire, chirping happily and playfully trying to catch floating embers in her claws.

Merlin smiles slightly and the other knights (bar Gwaine, who is glaring very pointedly at Arthur) chuckle at her antics, before they all sit in a semi circle on the opposite side of the fire to Arthur, Merlin in the middle.

The Warlock is once again wedged protectively between Leon and Gwaine, and he fiddles softly with Leon’s cape in his lap as he stares fondly at Aithusa.

Elyan moves to the packs, unloading food and water and cooking pots. Merlin gets up to help, but Gwaine pulls him back down by the hand and holds on firmly as he says:

“You’ve been through enough. We can put up with Elyan’s shitty cooking for a couple nights.”

Merlin tries to pull away with a “But I can-” but Leon grabs his other hand, holding him down and interrupting:

“Absolutely not. You said yourself that you’re tired. If Elyan needs help, he can ask one of us.”

Merlin huffs sulkily and Leon laughs, stroking the back of his hand protectively.

Leon had known Merlin just as long as Arthur had, and whilst they had virtually nothing to do with each other the first few years, they were still friendly acquaintances, even then. Leon knew full well that it was Merlin who would have a hot meal left in his room after a late patrol, and Merlin always appreciated how Leon kept as many weapons in the armoury in as good nick as possible, so Merlin didn’t have to deal with it.

Besides, even before they knew each other’s names, Leon always found Merlin’s reactions to Arthur’s stupidity funny. He could hardly say it out loud, being the Perfect Knight and all, but he always thought it was a good thing that Arthur had someone at his side keeping him humble, and calling him out in ways no one else would.

Of course they had gotten much closer over the years, as did all of the knights, thanks to Merlin. Currently, Leon was feeling just a tinge of regret at being so grateful for Merlin’s presence at Arthur’s side; he had never really thought about how difficult being that man’s babysitter would be, especially now he knew Merlin had magic. And some sort of destiny.

Time passes fairly quickly whilst Elyan cooks, the others taking to heart what Lancelot had said and trying to keep a quiet, but easy conversation going.

They ask Merlin various questions about Aithusa, Kilgharrah, the Druids, the weird name that he had been called. He answered them all easily enough, but they notice the way he hesitates when they ask about his magic specifically or the prophecies, so they steer clear of those topics.

They’ll definitely want to know the whole story eventually, and they’re practically buzzing with desperation to ask Merlin to show them something magical, but they know that now is not the time.

Dinner is finally served, and despite Gwaine’s statement, it wasn’t actually that bad. Mainly because every time Elyan went to add something to the pot, he would look back desperately at Merlin, and took into account the shakes and nods of his head with a grateful smile.

He did struggle to cover the scowl on his face when he delivered Arthur’s bowl to him, replying to The King’s quiet “thank you, Elyan” with an even quieter “don’t mention it” .

Dinner was eaten quickly and in silence. They hadn’t been unconscious for long, and hour or two at most, but they had all worked up an understandable appetite, Merlin especially. He would never ask for seconds, but knowing that, Elyan gave him an extra big serving without a word.

They entertained themselves after dinner by throwing the last scraps of meat to Aithusa, watching her jump and flip and fly about the camp. Merlin had objected at first, but gave in when he saw the small grin on Leon’s face, and heard the way the others were laughing. The City was only a few days ride away, they could always hunt on the way back.

It didn’t take long for her to tire out and curl up at Merlin’s feet to sleep. Like Merlin had mentioned, Aithusa was developing slowly, and she normally couldn’t fly very far; it must’ve taken a huge amount of energy and effort for her to get all the way here. But like the Knights, she was very protective, and there was no way she could not check on her Lord, after she and Kilgharrah had felt the anguish he was in.

As Kilgharrah once again crosses Merlin’s mind, he sighs, and makes mental note to call him in the morning, when he had more energy.

Merlin is distracted from his thoughts when the camp goes silent all of a sudden, and Gwaine reaches over to squeeze his hand. He looks up in worry, to see that Arthur had stood, and walked a little closer, though he made sure to stay the other side of the fire.

Merlin tenses slightly. He tries not to let it show, but he can knows that he failed when he feels Leon’s hand firmly in the middle of his back. Hidden from the others, but a silent reassurance.

Arthur gulps, obviously nervous, but he meets Merlin’s gaze, flinching at the slight fear in his eyes:

“Merlin, I know nothing I say will-”

He’s interrupted by Gwaine growling and standing suddenly, stepping in front of Merlin protectively, but it’s Lancelot’s harsh words that cut him off fully:

“Not tonight, Arthur. We’re all tired and angry so just... not tonight.”

Arthur clenches his jaw, and blinks away tears before nodding:

“Yes, I... I understand.”

With that, he sniffles slightly before taking a step back. He looks to the floor as he mumbles something about checking the perimeter, before slowly walking away from the camp, into the night.

Merlin lets out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding, and relaxes slightly as Leon runs his hand over his back. Gwaine stares after Arthur for a few moments, deliberating on whether or not to follow him (and presumably, kick his ass). Merlin reaching up to take his hand and pull him back down makes his mind up, and he settles back into his seat, Merlin’s small hand clasped between his two larger ones.

Percival speaking up breaks the tense silence:

“It’s late and Lance is right, we’re all tired. If we want to make quick work of the journey home, and have time to hunt, then we should get some sleep.”

Murmurs of agreement float up around the group, and Gwaine, voice still tense and angry, says:

“I’ll take first-”

But he’s quickly interrupted by Elyan, softly laughing:

“Absolutely not, Gwaine. If you’re left alone we’ll all wake to find the King dead in the morning.”

Gwaine raises a challenging eyebrow, not denying anything, and Elyan huffs, Percival muttering:

“Fine. But I’m taking it with you so you don’t get a chance to smother him.”

Gwaine gives a sarcastic looking smile, before ruffling Merlin’s hair fondly and walking towards the fire. He adds another log, grabs his bedroll, and settles down against a tree, Percival sitting at his side.

Everyone else gathers their rolls, and whilst normally they spread out, they all seem rather desperate to stay as close to Merlin as possible.

Normally he would complain, they all snore, and Merlin is definitely expecting nightmares tonight, but he can’t find it in himself to send them away, and to be perfectly honest, he's certain that they would just move back the moment he closed his eyes anyway.

The Warlock finds himself tucked under Lancelot’s arm, with Leon a respectful distance away on his other side, though still within arm’s reach. Elyan settles somewhere below his feet, and for the first time in weeks, Merlin finds himself fully relaxed.

Aithusa sleepily moves from her spot by Merlin’s feet, to curl up with Gwaine and Percival, and Merlin smiles at the thought that she not only trusts his friends in general, but trusts them enough to leave Merlin in their care. Dragons are protective and possessive creatures, and that trust speaks volumes.

Merlin is still a little miserable, and he almost resents himself for still being scared of Arthur despite his obvious regret, but... with all that happened... well. You can’t really blame him.

He’s got a gaggle of very protective knights around him, one of which he can vaguely hear trying to persuade another to commit regicide when no one was looking.

He has time to huff out a small laugh as Lancelot pulls him closer, before he drifts off; much quicker than he thought he would. He was comforted by the warmth behind him, the presence at his feet, the guardians watching over him, and the hand reaching towards him in the dark, just about close enough to lay fingers over Merlin’s heartbeat.

No nightmares plague him that night, and he doesn’t even wake to the warning growls sent Arthur’s way when he eventually returned to camp.

The next few days, hell, the next few months would probably be difficult, but he finds himself not as anxious now he knows he won’t have to face it alone.

THE END

I don’t think I’ll write a part two to this, but if someone wants to extend it, feel free, same as normal: credit and tag me :)

I’ve had the whole speech written out in full in my phone notes for like two months, but only recently got round to actually turning it into anything. I hope ya’ll enjoyed it!! I wanted to write something hella angsty so....

I’m fairly certain whatever I write next will be the dead opposite of this (FLUFF fluff) but honestly who knows.

Let me know if there’s anything specific you want my thoughts on :)

427 notes · View notes

lis-likes-fics · 3 years

Text

Exhilarated

Pairing: Carlisle Cullen x Reader Word Count: 4,602 words heheh Warnings: Car crash (again), smut Author's Note: Took too long because I'm ✨inconsistent✨.

~~~~~

Y/N sighed deeply as she drove down the dark road, headed back home from out of town. A friend of hers had invited her to her birthday party and she accepted, reassuring Carlisle that she would stay safe while she was out. He had promised her that he would always be by her side, and he took the promise to heart. He was reluctant to let her go by herself, but she convinced him that she would be alright.

Now she was on her way home to Carlisle. She was peering through her windshield when her phone began ringing beside her, the sound was loud and it startled her. She tore her attention away from the road for a moment to decline the phone call, she'd pick it up when she stopped.

Y/N looked back up to the road, cursing loudly when she saw a deer beginning to cross the road. She yanked on the steering wheel, swerving out of the way of the deer that had frozen in the street, staring at the lights that flashed at it.

The car jerked over, just missing the deer. Y/N slammed on the breaks as hard as she could and the car skid across the road. She crashed into a tree, the airbag deploying and smacking Y/N in the face, disorienting her for a moment.

It when she smelled the gas when she knew she had to get out of the car as fast as possible. Her heart pounded in her chest, she could hear her pulse in her ears. She opened her door, struggling to move her legs as she looked down. She groaned when she saw her foot stuck in the car, preventing her from moving.

She wiggled her feet out of her shoes and managed to get her legs out of the car. Just as she was out of the car, the vehicle blew, throwing her in the air from the impact of the explosion.

She let out a strangled yelp when she landed on hard, rolling over the ground before being abruptly halted by smacking another tall tree. Another cry escaped her as she felt a terrible pain in her lower back that soon spread all over her body. She was sure something was broken, and it was something vital. Blood soon started dropping her mouth, creating a bad taste in her mouth.

As if she'd be able to summon him, she choked out a strangled call, "Carlisle…" Her voice was barely audible or understandable, but she didn't stop. She needed him. Her body hurt so badly, she was in need of his aid.

However, it seemed as though he could hear her calls as a black Mercedes came racing down the road to get to her, screeching to a stop before the door was opened and Carlisle was coming out to her within the next second.

He was kneeling at her side, looking her over with worried eyes as he spoke, "What is it with you and cars?"

She chuckled weakly, wincing and coughing up more blood. "I'm sorry," her voice cracked as she got the words out. He shook his head, placing a hand on her cheek, "It's not your fault, dear."

He continued looking her over, trying to make note of everything wrong. She spoke, struggling to get the words out of her mouth, "Carlisle, I can't m-move my legs."

Carlisle acknowledged her words, "I'm going to move you onto your stomach, okay?" She gave him a nod and allowed him to do so. He felt around her back along her spine, asking her questions about how it felt and what happened.

At the end of his assessment and her recap, he let out a heavy breath and gave her a sad look. She couldn't comprehend it, she had started to fade in and out of focus, looking around her surroundings.

When she hit her back so hard on the tree, it fractured part of her spine and paralyzed her from the waist down. Along with that, she was bleeding internally and he knew she wouldn't have enough time before she actually passed out. He knew it would be bad if she passed out, it wouldn't end well at all.

And he couldn't lose her.

With glazed eyes, Y/N turned her scarce attention to Carlisle, "What's….wrong?"

Her breath had become heavy, the other effects of the accident were starting to sink in. Carlisle looked her in the eyes, as if he was memorizing every detail in them. She weakly moved an arm with the intention of placing her hand on his cheek. He took her hand in his, holding it to his cheek as he savored the warmth of her hand.

"Carlisle-?" His name was interrupted by a painful cough that riddled through her. He told her with a sad voice, crying without tearing up. "I don't think you're going to make it. You got hurt really badly."

She wasn't concerned about herself, she was concerned about him. She didn't want to leave him alone, she didn't want to leave his side after promising a million times a day that she never would.

Fresh tears stained her face to cover the old ones, not from physical pain but from emotional pain. "I'm not leaving you," she whispered in a hoarse voice.

He sighed and nodded, "I know. You'd never forgive me if I let you, and I'd never forgive myself if I let you."

She knew what he was getting at. For a moment, she was scared of the physical pain that would come with his cure, but the fear ceased when it was challenged with the despair of even the thought of leaving Carlisle's side.

She gave a weak smile and nodded, "Do it…"

He had a pained expression on his face as he considered the option again. It was the only option where she would come out alive-- or at least for the most part.

Carlisle stroked the side of her face with his thumb, gazing over her features as he looked past the injuries, looking at her true self as if it was the last time he'd see it.

He whispered in a clear but saddened voice, "I'm going to miss these eyes." She smiled at him, swallowing thickly.

Carlisle lifted her head carefully, kissing her deeply with as much meaning as he could without hurting her further. She kissed him back, it was one thing she could focus on fully with her mind slipping in and out of attention.

He whispered in her ear, "I'm so sorry."

She shook her head and told him in a broken voice, "I love you."

He kissed the side of her face, "I love you, too."

He braced himself before finally biting into her neck, his teeth piercing the skin and drawing blood. He fought off his urge to suck her dry quite well, more focused on saving her than he was on tasting her blood.

Y/N inhaled sharply, a strangled sound caught in her throat as she tried her hardest to hold in her scream. She could feel the venom already spreading over her body, burning her up from the inside out with such excruciating pain.

When Carlisle finished, he wiped his mouth and gazed at her painfully. He hated seeing her in pain, he hated seeing her looking so broken.

Try as she did, she couldn't stop the cries from leaving her body. Carlisle wiped at her tears as she squeezed her eyes shut tight, every fiber of her being struggling through the pain.

It felt like she had been lit on fire, for a moment she thought she would be hurting like this forever. She screamed and writhed in unbridled pain, her body jerking all over the place as she clenched and stretched her fingers repeatedly.

She almost wished the bottom half of her body stayed paralyzed, but she decided not to. It was better to go through the pain and spend eternity with Carlisle than it was to die and leave him without the love of his life.

Y/N opened her eyes, forcing a breath out of her lunges before sucking another back in. Her eyes fell on Carlisle. She found some remedy, thought very little, for the pain as she looked into his eyes. Beyond the agony he felt for putting you through such pain, she could see the love he felt for her that justified the physical pain.

It was that love that made him strong enough to do what he needed to do.

She didn't know how long she would be in this state-- it was different for everyone-- but she knew it would be worth it if it meant she would get to spend forever with him.

Y/N had been moved by Carlisle to his home, they couldn't stay out in the middle of nowhere while she was turning. In the safety of the home, she continued through the change.

She felt bad for putting everyone through the ordeal of having to listen to her pained screams as she turned. They wouldn't blame her for that, of course. They knew the pain she was in, they'd endured it before. That didn't stop her from feeling like she was burdening them. If only she'd been a little more careful, they wouldn't have to go through the mess that is changing.

While Edward could hear the thoughts she was having while she turned, he wasn't in the room to dissuade her from thinking those thoughts. Carlisle was right by her side the entire time. He refused to leave her, nothing his children could say would make him for even a second.

They eventually had to move Jasper out of the house. Her change was affecting him because, along with the physical pain, she was going through the emotional pain of having to watch Carlisle watch her turn. It hurt her to cause him any pain and Jasper wasn't holding up because of it.

She was in transformation for four days.

If she hadn't known physical pain before, she definitely did now. While changing made her exhausted, once she was a vampire, the exhaustion disappeared into a drained feeling.

She looked around the room, as if seeing everything for the first time. She could see every small detail in everything she laid eyes on.

She felt this strange feeling in her throat and chest, as if something was wrong, something was going against her natural instinct.

She finally put a finger on it when she realized she hadn't started breathing yet. She didn't need to, so she hadn't realized it when she didn't.

She took in a deep breath, her chest rising and falling. She could smell so many different things at one time: the trees outside, the fresh morning dew, each distinctive smell of each person throughout the entire house.

She listened closely to the sounds around her, the quiet shuffles of the residents in the house, the chips of birds outside, the light breathing of someone sat next to her.

She turned her head to look at the person next to her. A smile spread across her face as she gazed at him, looking at every small detail of his face, listening to every breath he took as he watched her with his own large smile.

"Hey," he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper but perfectly audible to her. She felt as though she might cry as she stared back at him, she was so glad to see him, even if she was with him for the past four days. She was seeing him clearly, there were no tears in her eyes.

She overestimated the amount of strength she needed to use as she got off the bed Carlisle had in his room solely for her and hugged him, straddling his waist as she buried her face in his neck, holding him a little too tight.

He let out a hearty laugh at her enthusiasm, holding her to him just as tightly. She took a deep breath in, inhaling his scent and memorizing it instantly. He was perfect in every single way.

She gripped him tight, carefully not to break him as she tried not to underestimate her strength. She breathed a sigh of contentment.

When she finally let go, it was only enough so she could kiss him. As soon as their lips touched, she sighed. The kiss alone was exhilarating.

She intertwined her fingers in his hair, letting out a soft moan against his lips. His lips tasted sweet, it was a taste she'd never experienced, but she liked it-- loved it, even.

When she pulled away, it was strange to not be gasping for breath. If she were human, she would have been.

She smiled back at him again with loving eyes, "Carlisle." She was surprised by her own voice, it was clear and seemingly perfect in every way. Carlisle watched in admiration as she experienced these things as if for the first time.

She looked back at him, "I sound…"

"Beautiful," he finished with a smile, "as always."

He kissed her again, wrapping his arms more securely around her as he stood, setting her on her feet as he pulled away. He grabbed her hand, guiding her to the bathroom connected to his room, despite him not needing to use it.

Carlisle pulled her in front of the mirror, his arms wrapping around her waist from behind and his head lying in the crook of her neck. She held his arms around her, locking her fingers with his as she stared at her reflection.

It seemed as though all of her imperfections before had been corrected, painting this perfect version of herself that actually seemed to compliment Carlisle now.

Her skin was smooth like silk, her hair was styled to perfection, despite the mess it was in, her crimson eyes were deep but they shone like stars. Even if they were yet to be the honey gold of Carlisle's eyes, they were still strangely appealing to gaze into.

She had always felt like she didn't look right next to him, she felt out of sorts. He seemed like a perfect sculpture carved from the most divine marble while she was a jugged wood carving placed next to him.

Now she looked as flawless as she did, she felt like she finally completed this perfect pair they seemed to form.

She turned her attention to Carlisle, his eyes trained on her face as she looked at him through the mirror. She smiled at him, turning in his arms to lay a hand on his cheek.

She went to kiss him again, but was suddenly distracted by a burning in her throat that made her reach to touch it. Carlisle nodded lightly, "You need to feed."

She sighed softly and nodded, taking his hand in hers and allowing him to lead her out of the house. As they walked downstairs hand in hand, the Cullens were all downstairs waiting.

She paused next to Carlisle, moving her free hand to hold their intertwined hands. She felt strange under their looks like this, like there was something wrong with her. She tensed under the eyes, a strange feeling rising in her as she grew anxious. There was this strange instinct in her that made her feel threatened, thus moving her to be hostile.

But before these instincts could properly kick in, they were smiling at her and rushing over to give her hugs. She was startled for a moment when Alice rushed into her arms happily, slightly squealing at her. She settled and hugged her back, eventually exchanging hugs with everyone in the coven before getting a giant bear hug from Emmett-- and she expected nothing less than that.

They gave her a proper welcome into the coven, expressing how happy they were that she was alright. Before she could strike up some conversation, Carlisle pulled her away so she could feed. "You can catch up afterwards," he smiled at Y/N.

Y/N found that she wasn't clumsy anymore. It was as if being a vampire cured everything wrong with her and made her this perfect woman. It made her feel like she was actually worth Carlisle's time now. She never said anything before, she didn't feel like it was appropriate to, but she always believed that she was far less than Carlisle. She never believed she was really that valuable, Carlisle's reassurances could only last her for so long.

After teaching Y/N how to properly hunt, they returned home. She was smiling the whole way, happy with her new self as she walked with Carlisle.

A few days passed and Carlisle started to notice she felt a lot happier than she had when she was human. He was curious to know why the change was such a big one, she was brighter, more radiant, as if things were finally working out for her.

One night while everyone was out feeding, Carlisle and Y/N were still at home together. He questioned her, "You're happier than you used to be. Even Jasper can feel the difference."

She shrugged, "I am." The simple response was enough to make Carlisle push on. "Why weren't you this happy before?"

Y/N looked at him, her red eyes staring into his golden ones before she sighed. "I'm different now. Before I was this clumsy, accident-prone, mediocre girl and now I actually feel…strong."

Carlisle took her hand in his, bringing it up to kiss the back of it, "Y/N."

She nodded, "I know, I know. I wasn't mediocre before, and I'm not mediocre now. I'll always be special to you."

He chuckled lightly before licking his lips, "Why did you think you were mediocre?"

She shrugged and sighed, "I mean…you literally look like a perfect specimen, like a beautiful statue. I…didn't. I was unimpressive and boring. But now I'm strong and I'm beautiful and…I'm perfect now."

Carlisle said exactly what she thought he would, but it somehow still managed to hit home with her.

"Y/N," he said, "when you were human, I cherished you for what you were. I still cherish you for what you are. Do you want to know something? The only difference I see between you now and you then are the color of your eyes. You were always beautiful, you were always strong, you were always perfect, and you always will be. To be honest, I do miss the clumsiness."

She chuckled at the last part, kissing his cheek, "Yeah, because arriving at the ER at least once every two weeks was fun."

"It amazed me how much one human could get hurt in a month," he replied, a soft laugh erupting from his chest.

Y/N smiled brightly and sighed. Perhaps she was hard on herself. All of her self-doubt wouldn't disappear in one night, but perhaps it would over her time with Carlisle. He would definitely do everything in his power to make sure she knew her worth.

She leaned over to him, kissing him gently before smiling and telling him genuinely, "I love you, Carlisle."

"I love you," he smiled. He took her face in his hands, kissing her lips softly. She moved so that she was sitting in his lap, happy to be with him, as always.

Carlisle's hands smoothed over her back, his touch was soothing over her skin. She pulled away from his lips, her eyes closed, her mind focused on his hands on her. It was such a soothing and exhilarating feeling. Her skin tingled wherever his hands dragged as he watched her sigh in pleasure.

Her voice was feathery as she spoke, "What's happening?"

His smile was one of adoration, "Your senses are stronger. You can feel every touch, smell every scent, hear every sound, taste every taste, and see every sight on a higher level."

She nodded, "That makes sense." She'd never felt anything like this. But, to be fair, she'd never been in a relationship as close and intimate as with Carlisle-- or anywhere near it.

She leaned forward again, her head in the crook of his neck as she pressed her body against his. "Do it more," she whispered.

And he did. His hand glided over her skin, grazing her up her back, over her shoulders, and down her arms. His hands gripped her, his thumbs brushing her skin, before moving back up her arms and down her sides.

Y/N turned her head and kissed his neck. Carlisle's eyes fluttered closed, his hands grazing down her outer thighs, moving back up and starting over running up her back.

She adjusted herself so she straddled his waist, locking her legs behind him. She loved being this close to him, he always felt so wonderful.

"How do you feel?" He asked her in his honey smooth voice.

She smiled, "Really good." She leaned forward, her hands cupping his face affectionately before kissing him again. He hands supported her back, pulling her impossibly close.

He stood, his arms wrapping around her waist to carry her. Laying her gently on the bed, he kissed her more desperately than he had before. Y/N sighed, moving her arms to wrap around his neck.

With every second, her need for him at that moment became more than just for care. She wanted him, needed him. With every kiss, her carnal need for him grew stronger.

Carlisle didn't need to be a mind reader to know what she was thinking. He whispered into her ear, the words so delicate in the air, "Say the words, and I'm yours."

She moaned lightly, nodding her head before giving him another kiss, "I want you, I want this. Please make me yours."

He smiled, kissing her hastily. His hands moved down her sides, gripping her waist as he pressed his thumbs into them. She grabbed his shirt, initially going to take it off of him before deciding to just rip it from his body completely.

He found that amusing as he allowed the piece of fabric to fall to the floor. He chuckled lightly, shifting her to move farther onto the bed. His hands pulled down her pants eagerly. He let them drop to the floor, kicking them out of his way.

She watched him intently, her eyes clouded with lust. He smiled at her and snuck his hands into her panties, rubbing her clit expertly.

She sucked in a breath, gripping the sheets for dear life as she let out a loud moan. Carlisle couldn't believe his eyes at the sight, it was beautiful, she was beautiful.

His finger moved quickly, applying just the right amount of force. Her legs tightened around his waist, pulling him close to her. He moved back over her and kissed her again, swallowing her moans hungrily.

It was ridiculous how fast he made her reach the edge. She was getting close to meeting her release and all he did was kiss and touch her. If she was this sensitive, she could only imagine what he would feel like inside of her.

She was getting so hot thinking about it.

"Carlisle," she moaned before he stopped his ministrations, he knew how close she was. She whined and he told her in a surprisingly seductive tone, "I love the way you look when you get close, but I don't want you to come yet."

She couldn't believe his words as she looked at him pleadingly. She was so ready for him. She was so ready to feel him.

She reached down his pants, undoing his belt eagerly. His eyes closed momentarily before he looked back at her, his eyes liquid gold as he gazed at her. When she had his pants down, she palmed him through his underwear, moaning lightly.

Carlisle groaned at her contact, kissing her neck and earning a sharp gasp from her. One hand went back to his head, holding him down next to her. Her other hand continued before going to take off his boxers entirely.

She let out a soft sigh when she saw his impressive length. He wasn't small, that was for sure. He let out a sigh of his own before whispering in her ear, "Are you sure?"

She bit her lip, kissing his cheek before telling him, "Carlisle, I love you. I want to share everything with you, especially…"

Carlisle glanced at her after her hesitation. "Especially what?" He asked.

She sucked on her lip before admitting, "Especially my first time."

He shared a long, meaningful look with her. He kissed her again. Despite the disheveled state they were in, the kiss was slow and sensual and managed to convey their love for each other with such depth. When he pulled back, he gave one last look to her before she nodded confidently.

He contained eyed contact with her before sliding inside slowly. She threw her head back, closing her eyes and gasping. She let out a loud exclamation as he buried himself deep within her. He groaned into her skin.

He pulled out slowly until he was left with just the tip inside of her before pushing himself back inside. She wrapped her legs around his waist, so eager to keep him close. "Oh, please," she moaned.

Carlisle sighed, a sound so full of pleasure at hearing her voice pleaded for him like she was. His excitement exploded, he had to try and control himself.

Carlisle's breath picked up, he tried to keep himself on as much control as possible, doing his best to keep from pistoning in her.

However, when she got used to his impressive size, tightening her grip around his neck. "Oh, yes," she sighed, "More. Please, Carlisle, more."

He almost lost it when she said his name in such a way. He didn't realize just how much power she had over him until she moaned his name in her plea. He obliged to her pleas and his thrusts became faster and harder.

Her sounds filled the room and his sounds began to mix with hers from his excitement. She could feel a knot in her stomach as she felt herself getting closer to her release.

She cursed under her breath, moaning his name in his ear. Carlisle could feel her squeezing around him, which only spurred him on as his thrusts became more erratic. Her moans, her cries, her pleas, they were so seductively precious to him. He wanted to pull them from her night after night. He wanted to have her forever.

"I'm so close," she whispered, her mouth hanging open as she moaned out.

"I know," he said, "I can feel you."

She smiled, panting heavily as Carlisle thrusted into her so deliciously. He was getting so close, he was just at the edge of his release.

She sighed, the words sending them both over the edge with such force, "I love you, Carlisle."

They gasped, holding their breath as they finally reached their sweet release together. Y/N intertwined her fingers with his, kissing him deeply as she moaned into his mouth.

They chased their highs together, the feeling so intense, so euphoric, so exhilarating.

When they finally started to come down, he eased her through it. Their breaths mingled as they pulled away from the kiss. Carlisle pulled out of her. He brushed a thumb against her cheek, pulling her into another kiss.

She smiled, holding him impossibly close to her. When they pulled back from the kiss, Carlisle whispered, "I love you."

#carlisle cullen #carlisle cullen x reader #carlisle cullen x you #carlisle cullen x fem!reader #cullen #twilight #twilight fanfiction #twilight series #twilight x you #fanfiction #fanfic #carlisle x reader

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slashbitch2 · 3 years

Text

The Very Nosy Neighbour

this fic was 100% inspired by this one here , but I mean it practically wrote itself I couldn't resist

NSFW

You can't remember much past waking up in an unfamiliar room- though 'room' is really a sugarcoated description, as in reality it qualifies more as some kind of cavern. You're sitting in a chair, ankles and wrists bound by an indistinguishable material. Whatever the binds are made of feels strong, so any attempts to struggle against it are futile. Yet, in spite of what really should be an extremely stressful situation, you find yourself completely relaxed. You briefly wonder whether you've been drugged, but with every sense feeling fully operational, that theory is soon dismissed.

Instead of choosing a more logical response to the circumstances you've found yourself in, you decided to focus more on your surroundings: not to form any resemblance of an escape plan, but simply out of curiosity. Although, the investigation is equally as ineffective. You're unable to name anything around you except for stone walls, strange (glowing?) vines and weird symbols carved above a few archways. Everything beyond that is either entirely lost to you, or shrouded in darkness.

With little else to do, you start to think back on the events that led you there, trying to glean any useful information from the blurry memories. The clearest image, therefore the most recent, is the smirking face of a woman, Agnes you realise. Though the malicious glint in her eyes doesn't quite match your perception of the nosy neighbour. But where is she now? Is she also in danger? You may not have known Agnes for very long, but are reluctant to let any harm come to her regardless.

With a clearer head, you consider calling for help, but a small voice at the back of your subconscious warns you against this. And the voice sounds smart, so you elect to listen to it. But what should you do instead? Where did this voice come from? And most importantly, should you trust it? Luckily, you aren't given much time to overthink the decision.

While trying to tune into this voice, footsteps echo in the distance, gradually drawing nearer. You hold your breath as the sound suddenly stops, leaving your eyes scanning the vicinity for any movement. The unpleasant reality dawns on you all too quickly: the footsteps were approaching from behind you.

“Well, well, well.” Someone says playfully, then snorts as they start walking closer. "Sorry to be a total cliché. I couldn't resist." It's Agnes. She narrows her eyes and smirks, folding her arms as she examines your constrained form. Subjected to her scrutiny, you find yourself swallowing, but your throat is too dry. Other small discomforts also become noticeable; your cramped limbs, aching back and the bruises on your hands. Well at least you put up a fight. The more rational part of you, however, realises that your hands are no longer bound. You stare down at them, flexing each finger as if checking they were all still fully functional.

Something suddenly knocks into your head and you grimace. Left reeling from the impact, you realise that you're slightly nauseated. Though not enough to stop you from reaching out to grasp the floating cup of water. The fact that the glass is suspended in mid-air doesn't go unnoticed, rather ignored, since there's too much happening simultaneously to comprehend any of it in sufficient detail. You swirl the liquid round, hesitant to drink, unwilling to trust your captor's apparent mercy.

"Drink up, dear." Agnes drags a chair forward, which seems to have just appeared out of thin air. She sits backwards on it, legs spread and arms resting on the back casually. "That's all you're getting until we're done here." The tone of her voice is both threatening and teasing. You're reluctant to admit it's quite a turn on.

One glance up at her prying expression and you relent, downing the chilled water way too quickly. Though you aren't given a chance to mourn your impatience, as with an effortless wave of her hand, Agnes refills the glass. While you sip at the water, she refuses to tear her eyes away from you for even a second. It's slightly disconcerting.

“Now," She claps her hands, startling you. "I assume you know why you’re here?”

“Not really.” You confess, unable to pinpoint why anyone would go to so much effort to kidnap you, especially Agnes, who up to this point had been an eccentric yet kind neighbour.

She sighs, more for show than anything else, and rubs at her temple. "Come on Y/N, let's not play dumb now."

Embarrassingly, a heat begins to pool deep in your gut, but you quickly dismiss the unwarranted lust. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh really?" She quirks an eyebrow, sitting upright. "You really have no idea?" The inquiry is ridiculing, and you can see that your naivety is starting to annoy her.

All you can do is shake your head and pray the sincerity is reflected in your eyes.

"Okay." She slams her hands down on her thighs. "I guess we'll have to go about this the hard way then, toots." A sharp gesture and your hands are bound before you once again.

By the time you're looking up, she's striding toward you with purpose, which does nothing to ease the building heat between your legs. Her hands clasp on the armrests either side, essentially trapping you, not like escape would've been possible without the extra precaution. Up close you finally recognize this isn't Agnes- in fact it never has been. There's a feral yet wise appearance to her, the facade of nosy neighbour dissolved in an instance to be replaced by a deranged, frighteningly powerful woman (or witch, you're undecided).

Despite your better judgement, you're unable to stop yourself from asking. "Who are you?" Your voice barely breaches a whisper, but she's standing close enough that nothing less intimate is required.

She looks mildly impressed, the corner of her mouth twitching almost indiscernibly. "Agatha Harkness." She extends a hand, smirking upon realisation that you're a little too tied up at the minute to reciprocate. "Lovely to meet you."

You swallow again, finding your throat to be a little less dry. "Likewise." Then decide to take another risk. "So what do you want from me?"

“Wanda's true identity.” She replies so quickly that you almost miss it, looking at you with an eagerly expectant expression.

Agatha's question confuses you further. “I don’t know what you mean.” Although your answer is honest, something at the back of your mind hisses lies.

"There's no need to lie here." Her patient humour had disappeared. "Trust me, no one will hear you, so drop the act."

For some unbeknown reason, her accusation angers you. "I'm not putting on an act, I don't know why I'm here or what you want from me." The bravery dissipates all of a sudden as you remember that you're not exactly in the position to command such authority. "Please, stop this."

Agatha purses her lips, stands up and turns away from you. She calmly moves forwards a few paces, and in the short amount of time you manage to convince yourself that she's given up. Until in a completely unprovoked move, she swings her hands to the left, sending her chair crashing into the wall in frustration. Whether this is part of her interrogation performance or not, it works. Your heart starts racing, and confusingly, the awkward heat between your legs pulses.

She runs a hand through her hair, still facing away from you. "Don't make this any harder harder than it needs to be." You can practically hear her grinding her teeth, but don't doubt that she was getting some enjoyment out of the situation.

"I can tell you that Wanda is my sister and only real family, that I moved to Westview with her and that I couldn't live without her." You start listing off some basic facts, desperate to prove to Agatha that nothing is hidden. That you're normal.

"What about your brother?" She swivels round, clicking her fingers as she tries to recall something. "Pietro!" She exclaims.

"Pietro..." You falter. Why does the name sound so familiar? The nausea worsens. You shake off the feeling. "Never heard of him."

“Liar.” In one swift movement, Agatha is right by your ear. The feeling of her lips brushing against your skin causes you to close your eyes. The close proximity was becoming overwhelming, and your body had chosen to react in a rather unfortunate way. Admittedly, you'd always had a thing for Agnes, but Agatha was on a whole other level. You dreaded to open your eyes, worried that she'd noticed your current state. Instead, you internally begged for mercy.

“Don't go all shy on me now.” She pushes your shoulder into the chair, compelling you to open your eyes. "If you don't want to talk, I have other methods." Her hand raises, a purple flow emanating from the tips of her fingers. It crackles and sparks, as if the power was barely contained, yet as she shifts closer to brush the hair out of your face, you don't flinch. One finger remained touching your forehead, then traced down to your jaw, and finally along to grasp your chin.

While the vaguely sinister movement terrified you, it also forced you hold your breath and grip onto the armrests for dear life. Why you'd decided this was hot was beyond you considering the many connotations of her words, yet your thighs pressed tighter together as she drew closer. You attempted to turn your head to the side, longing for distraction, but her hold on you kept your head still.

"This won't be much fun for you, dear." She sighed in mock pity, her breath hot against your skin... Which just tipped you over the edge. As hard as you tried to stifle the noise, a broken moan escaped your lips. You'd definitely hit a low point here. Too ashamed to face your apparent arousal, you screwed your eyes shut. Although, at Agatha's silence, you relented and opened them barely a minute later.

To your relief, or perhaps dismay, the woman was grinning like a maniac. Her eyes flickered down to your parted lips as she chewed on her own. Then carefully, as if she were testing the waters, her fingers began to rub against your jaw, and upwards to your mouth. Your breath deceives you by hitching as her thumb slips between your lips, stroking your tongue. At the contact, you can't help but arch into the touch. Agatha chuckles.

"I take it back." She murmurs, removing her hand. "This will be fun." Although the intimidation factor prevails, there's a certain desire mirrored in Agatha's expression which cancels out any remaining common sense. Your entire body felt like it was on fire, and even if you wanted to, there was little you could do to stop her. So, you give into your yearning, sighing as she climbs to sit on your lap. Immediately, her hand switches to gripping the back of your neck as she slams her mouth onto yours. You willingly indulge by opening further, allowing her tongue to slide between your lips. Her other hand lowers to grab at your chest, like she were trying to tug herself impossibly closer.

Without removing her lips, the hand massaging your chest shifts to your thigh. She still keeps her lips firmly pressed to yours, and with the lack of oxygen, you can feel yourself growing lightheaded. It almost feels like a challenge, one which you're determined to succeed at. Though when she eventually does break away, her hand suddenly slips between your thighs, and your breath is stolen from you once more. Wasting no time, she massages you through your clothes, dragging out an inevitable whine. The touch is both too much, and not enough. But judging by her malevolent smirk, that was exactly her intention.

Even though you were currently incapable of producing any reasonable thought, you still noticed that Agatha wasn't entirely unaffected. Her breathing was laboured, hips occasionally jerking against your thigh and eyes struggling to stay open. The influence you were having on her only encouraged you to moan louder, craving to see her equally dishevelled. Your plan seemed to momentarily fail as her hand retreated. But you'd certainly earned her attention.

She licks her lips, then abruptly changes her expression to look disturbingly like that of Agnes. "You wouldn't leave me out of the fun now, would you dear?" Her voice is high pitched as she basically sings her words. Although the question must've been rhetorical as doesn't await a response, instead you find your hands unbound, flung behind your back and bound together all in a matter of seconds. Then, she shifted her position, yanking your bodies closer so that your crotches were pressed together. She grunts, heaving forward to rest against you for a moment and regain her composure. And finally, without warning, starts to grind your hips together.

It doesn't take long for her movement to become more frantic, accompanied by her hair spilling onto her face. She remains impressively quiet, however, or perhaps you were just comparably loud. With the little pride you have left, you decide to take matters into your own hands, and start meeting each thrust with equal vigour. Miraculously, it works. She throws her head back with a remarkably loud moan, proceeded by change in strategy as she starts almost bouncing on top of you, hips losing their rhythm, pleasure overwhelming her. Startled by her lack of self-control, the heat in your stomach begins building exponentially fast. Your eyes slam shut.

A hand grasps onto your face. “Look at me!” She growls, then emphasises her demand by rolling her hips torturously slowly. The movement ceases. She leans her forehead against yours, staring directly into your eyes. “Come with me.” To your surprise, there's an audible plea in her voice.

At a loss for words, you nod. The pleasure had been building for so long that you knew it'd only take a few more grinds to push you over the edge. With your confirmation, Agatha resumes her thrusting, though soon succumbs, throwing her head back and uttering an exceptionally loud, high-pitched moan. She arches her back, pressing herself so far into you that the pleasure peaks. You groan, lurching backwards in a moment of pure bliss. All you can feel is Agatha, all you can think about is Agatha. Coming down from the high, you sigh and collapse forward to bury your face in the crook of her neck.

She tenses slightly at the contact, but soon relaxes into the strange embrace. You gently press your lips against her skin and feel her shiver, confirming your suspicion that it'd been a while since Agatha had received such affection. Motivated by a new, more innocent desire, you continue to pepper light kisses across her throat and behind her ear, simply enjoying the unexpectedly intimate moment.

Agatha finally breaks the silence, leaning away from your touch to look down at you curiously. "Wanda really has you under her mind control too, huh?"

Although still stuck in a post-coital haze, you muster enough brainpower to consider her words. "Mind control?"

"Oh, right." She smirks, a slight sadness perceptible in her eyes. "Forgot to mention." Before you can say anything, she swings one leg to the side, stiffly sliding off your lap and clasping her hands together. "You might want to reconsider where your loyalties lie, dear." She glances at you, then ambles to the opposite side of the room. "That's one fucked up family situation right there." Her voice teasingly calls out.

You feel yourself flush, strangely offended by her comment, and annoyed by her vagueness. "Like you can talk." Your response is a total shot in the dark, but must've hit a nerve since she slowly turns back to you, a suspicious expression upon her face. "Just a guess." You add, unwilling to know the details of whatever sensitive topic you'd just touched upon. Agatha easily shrugs it off, leaving behind a stifling silence. Eventually, it's a mixture of your own boredom and concern that prompts you to end the lull in conversation. "Are you still planning on interrogating me about something I know nothing about?"

"Oh, no I read your mind." She waves a dismissive hand over her shoulder. "Got all I needed."

Again, you're left suffocating in the confusion her ambiguity provokes, with nothing else to ask except. "How...?"

The inquiry must've been exactly what Agatha wanted to hear as she immediately dropped what she was doing to turn around and lean on the wall, arms folded in a casually smug pose. "Sex leaves you vulnerable." She smirked. "All I did was take advantage of the opportunity- but I'll spare you the boring details." With a flourish of her hand and a flash of purple, the binds holding your ankles and wrists disappeared. "You can go now. First door on the left."

Without sparing you another glance, she busied herself with some witchy task, allowing you to see yourself out. Massaging your wrists, you stood slowly, watching her expectantly. Surely she wouldn't just let you leave? Yet as you sauntered over to the door she'd directed you to, she made no move to stop you. "Bye then?"

Agatha looked up at you and winked. "See you around, neighbour."

#agatha harkness x reader #agnes x reader #agatha harkness

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minty-mumbles · 3 years

Text

Delirium

Summary: Wild gets sick, and Time and Twilight have to deal with his fevered delusions. No one has a good time.

Author's Note: My first Linked Universe fanfiction! Wooo! (Read it on Ao3 Here)

Content Warning: Hiding injuries which results in sickness, Sickness, Delirium/Hallucinations

~~~

This entire situation started only two short days ago. When they went to sleep that night, nothing had seemed amiss. Wild had seemed perfectly fine, if a bit tired. He had made a nice stew for dinner, nothing too complicated, and then crawled right into his bedroll, and was out like a light in less than five minutes. Time and Twilight had exchanged suspicious glances, but left it at that. It had been a very long day of traveling, and they had had a difficult fight that evening. Most of the group was tired. After all, Sky had similarly gone to bed immediately, and Wind looked like he wasn’t far behind.

Hyrule took the first shift on watch that night. Wind had the second shift, and Wild had the third. Thankfully, nothing happened throughout the first two watches. Wind was relieved when it was finally time for him to wake Wild, eager to go back to sleep.

However, when Wind tried to nudge him awake, his fellow hero had refused to budge. After a few more minutes of poking, which quickly escalated to shoving, Wind only had a few groans to show for it, his fellow hero’s eyes remaining shut tight.

This was highly unusual. Wild wasn’t the lightest sleeper- that title went to Legend, without a doubt- but he was always easy to wake. If it had been Sky, Wind wouldn’t have thought much about it.

As it was, Wind shot a concerned look at the lump of blankets Wild had become, and then scampered over to Hyrule’s bedroll.

By the time the rest of the group woke in the morning, Hyrule had woken Time and Twilight, after he had discovered the cook’s high fever, caused by an infected wound he hadn’t told anyone about. It was quickly decided that the group couldn’t travel safely with a sick member, and the group would be staying put until Wild felt better.

Four set about making breakfast, which was an uninspiring meal of simple roasted salmon. It was better than most others could do though, so no one dared complain, lest they be stuck with Hyrule’s cooking for lunch.

Their plan to stay put was ruined when a portal opened in the middle of the campsite after breakfast. After much groaning, they carefully packed the cook’s belongings, and distributed the packs amongst themselves so no one would be stuck with twice the weight to carry for the day. Twilight, as the strongest, was the one assigned to carry their sick companion.

Fortunately, they needn't have worried about a long trek awaiting them on the other side of the portal. It seemed that Hylia finally deemed it time to give them a boon of good luck, and they had been deposited nearly on the front doorstep of Lon Lon Ranch.

Some of the group smiled, relieved at this reprieve. Others- namely Legend and Time- shared a wary glance. If the goddess thought the situation bad enough to deposit them directly on the rancher's doorstep, this likely would not be a pleasant few days.

They had quickly set Wild up in one of the spare rooms. Malon had made some delicious cucco noodle soup, and the group had set about helping with farm work while waiting for Wild’s fever to break. They took turns watching the young man, as Hyrule was wary about leaving him alone with such a high fever.

The Champion had woken several times. Once on the first day after supper, on Legend’s watch, and twice again that night, once on Hyrule’s watch, and once on Time’s. It was always the same when he woke. He looked around in a daze, not quite processing the world around him. Those watching over him were able to get him to eat small amounts of bread and drink a little of the soup’s broth, but didn’t manage to provoke a reaction out of him. There was little improvement in his condition.

The second morning was when the group really started to worry. Wild’s fever still had not broken, and it had been over a day now. When he woke right after breakfast, he had moved past dazed and right into delirious territory. He was crying out for Zelda, and other names that none of them recognized. He struggled against Wind, who had been the one on watch at the time. Eventually Wind had given up trying to get him to lay down. Even with Wild as weakened with his fever as he was, Wind was unable to overpower the older boy, and had called for Time and Malon.

Time managed to hold Wild down enough to get him to drink some water, although he nearly had to pin the younger man down to do so, eliciting some more screams from him. It certainly seemed that his delirium wasn’t going away anytime soon. Meanwhile, Malon started to set up a cot in the main room of the house. It would be more convenient to have Wild on the lower level of the house, so they didn’t have to carry water and food up the stairs. That way, she could keep an eye on him while making meals, giving the boys a break from watch duty.

Warriors had ushered most of the others out of the house when the screaming had started, claiming that ‘they had better things to do than sit around and listen to their comrade’s pain.’ No one argued, the young sailor in particular looking very pale at the screeches from upstairs. Warriors couldn’t blame him. It sounded like Time was pulling the Champion’s teeth out.

Twilight alone had remained behind, twitching agitatedly by the cries of his protege. Warriors shared one last understanding look with the man, then shut the door, cutting off the cries from the group outside. The group of six slowly shuffled off to the barn to get started on feeding the animals. It was a peaceful morning. The cuccos seemed to be in a less murderous mood than usual, and the sun was shining, burning away the night’s dew. It was quite tranquil.

Inside the house, a much less peaceful scene plays out.

“No, no, no, no!" Time gripped Wild as tight as he could without hurting him as he lifted the champion into the air. The feverish man limply struggled against Time’s grip with all his might, which at the moment, was not much.

Twilight stood nearby, ready to assist Time if need be. He ran a washcloth over his cub’s forehead one last time before they began the trek down the stairs.

"It's okay, Wild. You’re okay," he uttered soft reassurances. Honestly, the soothing words might as well be for himself, for all the good they did for the one held in Time’s arms.

"Don't- don't!" Wild sucked in a shuddering gasp. "Don't put me back in there." Gritting his teeth, Time made his way into the hallway, ignoring the nonsensical cries of the boy in his arms. Giving into his pleas wouldn’t get them anywhere, and they would just need to do this later. “Please, please! l'll do anything!"

As they reached the top of the stairs, Wild seemed to get a sudden burst of strength, struggling much harder against the elder heroes. “I’m sorry! I’m not that hurt, don't put me in there, not again!"

Time sighed, grimacing and adjusting his grip slightly. "You aren't going anywhere except the living room, Wild." In response, Wild let out a wail and reached over Time’s shoulder as far as he could; his eyes were fixed on Twilight, but he could tell Wild wasn’t truly seeing him, and he reached for someone or something that wasn’t truly there.

"Time!”

TIme grimaced harder. Was this what having children was like? Caring for them, and inevitably getting your heart ripped out when you see them in pain? Trying your best, yet not being able to help, despite being right beside them? Goddess, if it was, he wasn’t sure he was ready for children. "I’m right here, Wild-"

They finally reached the bottom of the steps, and Twilight stopped to wipe at his face again. This time, the cloth was scrubbing away tears as well as sweat. "Shh, cub-”

“TWILIGHT!” Wild’s voice had reached a high fever pitch. It wouldn’t surprise Time if even the group outside could hear him, he was screeching so loud. Twilight made a wounded sound, then grit his teeth, doing his level best to ignore the cries of the younger hero.

Time maneuvered himself and his passenger to the cot set up in the corner of the main room. He carefully settled himself onto it, not daring to let the younger hero go. With all the strength his thrashing had suddenly gained, Wild would probably throw himself off the cot if he was set down now.

Through the screaming and the sobbing and the struggling, Time did his best to hum any song that came to mind in a desperate attempt to soothe the distressed boy. He eventually settled on a quiet Song of Healing.

Finally, after what felt like forever, Wild drooped. His head landed against Time's chest, eyes staring at the ceiling, yet seeing nothing. His body shook with exhausted sobs. He was coughing and gasping, but he wasn't squirming anymore.

It wasn’t much, but it was a step.

“Please,” Wild rasped, his voice worn from the screaming he had been doing, “Don’t put me back in the shrine.” The words and pleads from only a few moments ago abruptly clicked into place in the two’s minds.

The Shrine.

Goddess, they were stupid. They weren’t sure what the exact circumstances were leading up to him being put into the shrine, but he may very well have still been conscious. Confused and fever-addled as he was, it would have been easy for his brain to draw false conclusions about where or even when he was.

“We won’t,” Time whispered, “We won’t.”

#mint’s writing #linked universe #linkeduniverse #lu wild #lu twilight #lu time #lu wind #lu hyrule #lu warriors #lu wild angst #wild angst #sickness #injury #hiding an injury #hallucinations #delirium #lu fanfiction

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sohin-ace · 3 years

Text

Jotaro - Kakyoin's Notebook

I'm sorry, I clickbaited y'all. The pairing in this story is not official.

...unless?

As you were all about to check out of the hotel, You decided to go back to everyone's respective rooms to make sure none of you forgot anything.

The crusaders were downstairs and you came up, checking every room. Everything seemed okay, you only needed to check Kakyoin and Jotaro's room last and then go back down.

You entered their room and looked everywhere. You stumbled onto a little notebook that was halfway underneath one of the pillows right as you were about to leave.

"Huh? Oops, I nearly didn't see that!" You bent down and took the notebook in your hands. It was just about pocket-sized. "Oh I do remember Jotaro having something like that, better get it back to him!"

Out of fateful clumsiness, the notebook slipped out of your hands and fell on the ground, opening on a random page. You crouched to pick it up, but then, your gaze fell upon what was on the page.

Your breath hitched in speechless confusion at what you saw, written at the top, in big font.

'Y/NxJotaro'

Why was your name and Jotaro's on that page? Was that some kind of memo? You knew Jotaro had the habit of taking notes to remember things, but why was your name in there?

Your curiosity got the best of you and you continued to look down the page, swiping through the others. You knew it was terribly wrong and you were invading his privacy but you were just so lost. It concerned you, there was your name on it.

" 'One-shot Draft... WIP', What does that even mean? J-... Jotaro did this?" You mumbled out loud, face scrunching up in confusion and slight fear as you looked through words you couldn't understand.

" 'Soulmate AU', 'Drabble', 'NSFW'? Are those some kind of codes?"

Pages long of stories decorated the sheets, so many you couldn't read everything. There were even some sketches and drawings that you didn't have the heart to look at. You managed to read some pieces of stories that left you even more confused. You read to yourself.

' "W-wait!" Y/N said as tears prickled in her eyes, her face flushed with innocent shyness. "I-It's my first time..."

"Don't worry," Jotaro spoke, hovering above her, his voice deep and soothing. "I'll be gentle." '

...What? You don't remember ever saying anything of the sort? You couldn't comprehend what you were reading. Whatever was written in there never happened and was fictional or somesuch to you.

When it was just too much for you to handle, you closed the notebook, your face still strained with mixed feelings.

Only then did you notice that there was a cherry sticker on the back of the notebook. After looking at the first page, you saw the name of the owner.

Noriaki Kakyoin.

"K-kakyo-... Oh my gosh..."

You were shocked, but somehow relieved. It made more sense than the author being Jotaro, but it still blew you away, the fact that Kakyoin would write such things on your and Jotaro's behalf.

Suddenly, Polnareff walked by and noticed you through the open door. You flinched when he called out to you and entered the room.

"Ah there you are Y/N! We started to worry!" He approached you and he noticed what you were holding. "Oh that's Kakyoin's notebook! He can't live without it, good thing you found it! Okay, let's go now, the others are waiting. Allez, on y va!"

He guided you out of the room and you followed, clutching the notebook. Polnareff didn't have to know the weird things written on it about you and Jotaro. You had to discover what it all meant.

"That's bullshit. You don't make any sense, Y/N." Jotaro scoffed at you, a few hours after the little hotel room occurence.

"I swear on my future husband's life! I'll prove it to you, look." You turned around and looked for your red haired friend. "Kakyoin! Can I doodle something on your notebook please~?"

"Huh?" He looked at you questioningly. "Why all of a sudden?"

"Well, Mr. Joestar will take a while to come back, so might as well kill some time. I'll write a cute message for you to read on the last train home!"

The red head smiled at your goofiness and thought 'why not?'. He took out his notebook along with a pen, but instead of giving it to you, he opened it on a specific empty page.

"Here," He handed you the items. "Only draw on this page. Don't draw on the other pages."

You nodded. "Got it! Thank you Kakyoin~!"

You smiled innocently and as soon as the male turned his back to you, your expression turned dark and you instantly looked for Jotaro who was sitting nearby.

"Jojo! Here, I have it, let's do this!" You stood in front of him with the notebook in your hands and he sighed.

"Yare yare daze, I'm not betraying his trust because of your shadiness."

"It's not like that! There's-..." You cut yourself off to look behind you and check if Kakyoin was looking.

You leaned down, inching towards Jotaro's face and whispered quietly. "There are things about us in here. Last time I saw it on accident, but if Kakyoin writes stuff about us, it's our legitimate right to know!"

"Says who? Are you a lawyer or something?"

"Jojo please!!" You pleaded while gripping on the collar of his gakuran, moving the chains on it and making them clang loudly.

The sudden noise alerted the cherry-haired fellow who turned his head to look at you both from afar. His eyes instantly widened and sparkled with vicious yet happy stars.

He loved to see his two best friends interract and, he knew damn well he took half of your interractions out of context, but that's what made them so good. His imagination started running wild at the scene before him.

The way you desperately held onto Jotaro, your faces, so close to each other, your begging eyes looking at him, yearning for his lips, waiting for one thing only.

'Jojo, please!' Kakyoin muttered what he imagined you would say. 'Say yes... I've been dying to kiss you!'

Back to you two, Jotaro clicked his tongue and looked away, closing his eyes in frustration. He hated the fact that he just couldn't refuse you anything.

"Tch! You're so fucking annoying. Fine, I get it, give it to me." Jotaro grumbled and moved your hands away from him, snatching the notebook from your hand.

'Tch! You know I can't resist you. Fine, don't beg for me to stop when I start messing you up.' Kakyoin continued, imitating his friend's deep voice under his breath and being surprisingly in character, for the inappropriate things he was imagining.

Kakyoin tensed up with anticipation when Jotaro suddenly grabbed your wrists, his big strong hands overpowering your fragile ones easily. You may have made the first move, but he would take the lead.

If it wasn't for the public surrounding you, Kakyoin was sure his friend would have gotten up and slammed you against the wall, pinning your hands at your side while you whimpered his name cutely. But he had to hold back, at least for now, or so Kakyoin daydreamed.

"Hey Kakyoin, what're you looking at? Come here for a bit!"

Before Kakyoin could even see the rest of the scene, which happened to be the most interesting part, he was interrupted by Polnareff who was in dire need for help with a nearby vending machine that seemed to have eaten his money.

Kakyoin sighed a bit annoyed, but joined his French comrade, not even glancing back at you. He'd have to remember to write everything down as soon as you gave him back his notebook.

Kakyoin Noriaki was an average boy that loved action and adventures, but he secretely wasn't immune to a good sweet romance story.

When you joined the crusaders, your interactions with Jotaro seemed as platonic as with the rest of the men. But for some reason, the boy started to feel some kind of connection between you two.

He didn't know when or how it started, but he felt like something was different at a certain point.

Why was it so cute when, one day, you removed Jotaro's hat to fix the pins that were moved out of place after a fight, and he let you put it back on him, even though he never lets anybody touch it?

Or maybe it was that other time in a restaurant where, after Jotaro eyed your dessert for a while, you exchanged your cakes to let him have a taste, stealing a bite from his own in the process.

Or that day when you struggled put your earrings back on and he had to help you out, only to struggle even more, his fingers too big and clumsy to be accurate. He had to call out Star Platinum to do it while he held your hair out of the way.

Even the simplest of gestures seemed romantic and adorable to him. He was sure something was going on between you two, and yet, you were too dense to realize it. All of this fueled his inner fanboy and it prevented him from sleeping at night.

He shipped you two so goddamn much.

He was guilty, but he loved every single bit of it. Of course, no one could know. If someone knew, especially you two, that'd be the end of him.

You were all waiting for the next train to arrive, which was a big 40 minutes. Joseph and Abdul went to buy something to snack on while you waited and Polnareff went to the restroom.

Kakyoin was sitting next to you, his back resting against the wall and his eyes were closed. As you thought he had fallen asleep, you took this moment to turn the other way to talk to your nonchalant friend.

"You see?" You spoke softly, careful to not wake Kakyoin up. "I told you there were stuff about us in that notebook!"

"Shut up, there were only messages on that page, I'm sure the others were the same." He grumbled with the same low intensity as you. "And you know damn well he can be a weirdo sometimes."

"But still, I want to understand... And also, what does 'smut' even mean?"

He pretended to be asleep, but his mind was racing.

Kakyoin who wasn't quite sleeping and very much listening to whatever he could hear through the background noise of the station, flinched and started blushing.

Just, when and where did you heard that term?

" 'Smut'?" Jotaro looked at you with confused furrowed eyebrows. "Hell if I know. You speak better english than I do, shouldn't you know?"

"Well I..."

Before the conversation could go down even further, Kakyoin feigned waking up and got up from his slouched position.

You noticed and turned around, staring at him, scared that he would ask what you were talking about, as you didn't want to confront him about the weird things you saw in his notes. If he ever knew, he would finish you. But something worse happened.

Jotaro nudged you and tilted his head towards Kakyoin, but you quite didn't get the message.

"Oi Kakyoin, do you know what 'smut' means? You know a lot of languages, right?" Jotaro asked like it was nothing and you gasped, secretly wanting to slap Jotaro for his indiscretion.

Kakyoin looked over at him, unfazed as ever. "Smut? Hmmm I guess I can look it up later. Where did you hear that?"

Jotaro innocently signed your death warrant. "Y/N just told me."

"JOTARO!!!" You shot up from your seat and stared at him in pure disbelief and betrayal. "OH MY- ARE YOU SERIOUS?! YOU TRAITOR!!!"

"Oh really?" Kakyoin teased, sending you a knowing look. "What's going on with you two? Are you keeping secrets from me?"

You blushed and flinched as Kakyoin's amethyst eyes stared through your soul. Before Jotaro could say anything else, you slapped a hand over his big mouth and Kakyoin's eye glinted.

"I-I mean... No! Wait. There's something I need to tell Jojo, excuse us for a sec."

You then leaned in and cupped Jotaro's ear as you whispered. Kakyoin looked at you in pure satisfaction, trying his best to not start smiling and giggling like a goofy schoolgirl.

Oh no, he didn't need to hear the sweet nothings you were deliciously breathing on Jotaro's now tingling skin. Imagining it was more than enough.

You leaned back and softly spoke to him. "Don't ruin this for us. I'm trusting you."

"Yare Yare daze. You put me into this in the first place. Don't complain."

Kakyoin's eyes widened and he turned his head around, trying to hide his expression and pretended he totally didn't hear that. Oh how sweet the lack of context was for his little fanboy mind. He wouldn't ask too many questions since you were offering him such a good show.

On the train, you waited until Kakyoin was completely out and asleep to subdue his notebook. That would make a good reading on the 4 hours long travel.

"Yes that's it! Right on the left pocket, yeah that one!"

You guided Jotaro who was hiding not too far from Kakyoin's seat as your delinquent friend used Star Platinum to steal your cherry loving friend's notebook.

When he finally had it, Star Platinum brought it back and both you and Jotaro proceeded to read through the many drafts and stories about you two.

Getting ready for one hell of a joy ride.

Bonus:

Kakyoin stretched and took a deep breath of fresh air as he got off the train.

"Aah~! I slept like a log. Huh? What's wrong, why are you two so red? Did you get motion sick, maybe?"

Kakyoin commented upon seeing your and Jotaro's flushed face as you got off. Your shoulders were slumped in shame and Jotaro was hiding behind his hat like a wanted criminal.

"Uh yeah... Here Kakyoin, you dropped this..." you groaned and handed him his notebook.

He thanked you and took his due. When he was gone, you glanced at Jotaro and you both shared intense empathy and regret.

Don't steal Kakyoin's notebook.

Oh man, wouldn't it be fun and also a bit sad if after Dio was defeated, Y/N and Jotaro became a couple?

You walked by the river, holding hands with Jotaro after a long week of finals. You suddenly stopped in your tracks and looked at the water reflecting the orange sunset.

Jotaro looked at you confused, but followed your gaze, until both of you laid eyes on a young girl painting the scenery on a canvas.

"You know... He would have loved this..." You started softly, a melancholic look cast on the girl as her Stand posed on the grass like a model, thinking herself only could see it. "To see us together, I mean..."

Jotaro inspected the girl, her red curls and green uniform moving messily in the wind. "Did he ever write something about us watching him paint?"

You chuckled sadly. "Why didn't he think of that? His stories were great, but he was in none of them..."

Jotaro noticed you biting your lip as your voice wavered slightly and he squeezed your hand in reassurance. You laid your head on his arm and he responded by bringing you closer to him.

"But now he is."

OKAY AUTHOR OUT

#jojo's bizarre adventure #jojo #jjba #jojo no kimyou na bouken #writing #x reader #reader insert #jojo part 3 #part 3 #part 3 spoilers #spoiler in the last note #jotaro kujo #jotaro #jotaro kujo x reader #stardust crusaders

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