#or that there's a door on the wall of the cell that remains out of the shots most of the time

[sashketter]

Passing Stars (Chapter 1)

Summary: Din Djarin meets Omega.

Word count: 1.9k

Warnings: Mild violence (blaster bolts, two implied deaths)

Notes: This takes place after The Book of Boba Fett and maybe before season 3 of The Mandalorian, I haven’t decided yet. I've actually had this idea since season 1 of The Bad Batch, wrote it all out last year when TBB and Mando overlapped for a month, and then forgot about it 💀 Now that TBB is ending, I wanted their story to continue. For ease of convenience, I’m ignoring Favroni's weird naming convention and keeping Din as his first name.

Din couldn’t believe it. For years, he had evaded stormtroopers, warlords, gangsters, and smugglers, carefully plotting his movements through the galaxy to minimize his chances of capture and complications. Whenever he found himself in a dog fight, shields down and cannons hot, he always found escape. This band of pirates, however, were unfamiliar to him. With the New Republic preoccupied with the Core and Mid Worlds, the Outer Rim remained the lawless frontier it had always been.

Din had stopped on a small planet to refuel the N-1 on his way back to Nevarro. The kid played in the grass while he looked over the ship, noting damage that could be handled later at better facilities. No point wasting more credits here, Din thought. Satisfied, he had knelt down to pick up Grogu when he felt something hard hit the base of his head, and everything went black.

He woke up sitting in a chair with his wrists tied together behind his back. Cool air met the ache in his jaw, and a chill ran throughout his body. He was in his flight suit, stripped of his helmet and armor. Anger and indignity flared on the edges of his hazy consciousness, but was soon replaced by sharp fear: Grogu was nowhere in sight.

With his heart beating in his ears, Din looked around the dingy room. He could make out a mix of Trandoshans and Weequays along the opposite wall, palming his Beskar like ancient artifacts, no doubt as rare and valuable as kyber crystals. He saw a door on the far side of the room just as a fist connected with his left temple. He was jerked to his feet, heavy as his battered head, towards the door and down a narrow corridor. Hyperspace flickered outside the portside windows.

“Put him in the brig with the girl,” a voice behind him said to the one holding his handcuffs.

“Together?” Din didn’t appreciate his captor’s tone.

“No, you karking scughole.” A muffled punch mingled with the sound of the lift doors opening. “In an empty one.”

Din was surprised by the size of the brig. Ship’s not big, he calculated. The edges of his vision were still blurry, but he could make out at least eight cells descending from a long, central platform, four on each side. The third on the right glowed red. When they stopped in front of it, he peered through the ray shield while his captor, one hand on his wrists, opened the opposing cell.

“Got company for ya, doll.” The pirate turned around and saw no one through the ray shield. “What?”

Shoved down five short steps to the floor of his cell, Din landed on his side, too sore and dazed to get up and see the pirate hurry to the other cell. He heard the opposing ray shield open as his closed. A few seconds of silence followed before sounds of a scuffle echoed across the platform. Din heard grunts and sharp blows land before the distinct sound of a neck snapping. He got to his feet, arms fused to his sides. He didn’t think to call out, still unused to the prolonged feel of air on his face and injuries.

Looking up through the flickering entrance of his cell, he saw a small shadow emerge on the platform. He couldn’t see her eyes grow wide with the discovery of another prisoner. She hurried to the panel next to his door and opened the ray shield.

“Are you alright,” she asked as he stood motionless at the bottom of the steps. “Are you hurt?”

She noticed his arms before he could answer. Her mouth opened and her right index finger shot up before she disappeared from view. As she made her way back down into her cell, Din tiptoed out of his. They reached the platform at the same time.

“Turn around,” she said, flashing the keys to his cuffs in her palm. The pirate’s blaster was tucked under her arm. He turned reluctantly, wary of being unarmed.

“You’re not hurt,” she pressed, concerned by his silence.

Din fumbled for words but finally coughed, “N-no, I’m fine.” He felt air on his wrists. “Thank you.”

“Good,” she said as he turned to face her. “I’m Meg.”

He hesitated, surprised by her friendliness. “Din.”

He looked down at her. Blonde hair curtained brown eyes where it wasn’t pulled back in a long braid that fell over her left shoulder. She was slight, yet strong and capable enough to overpower a Trandoshan alone. How’d they manage to knock her out, Din wondered. She also wore a flight suit, black and frayed at the hems.

She nodded. “I take it you didn’t come like this,” she asked. She held the blaster in both hands and motioned for him to follow her down the platform. On the wall past the empty cells was a panel with a monitor.

“Can you shoot,” she asked, grabbing the barrel of the blaster and pointing the handle towards Din. He stared at her a beat too long - she trusts too easily - before taking it and positioning his back to the wall.

With one hand on the wall next to the monitor, Meg started tapping on the panel’s keys, looking for schematics of the ship.

“They took my armor,” Din confessed. “And my child.”

“They separated you?” Meg’s fingers came off the panel briefly as her eyebrows scrunched and her head turned halfway towards Din. “That’s odd.” She shook her head and returned to the panel.

“There,” she said after a moment, pointing to the command deck on a map of the ship. Din turned to look at the monitor. “Looks like they’re holding your kid on the bridge. And your armor,” she moved her finger in an L shape over two corridors, “should be there with mine.”

Before he could ask, a blaster bolt sparked across the left corner of the monitor. Din and Meg ducked and turned around to face three pirates stumbling through closing doors. Din sent a bolt through the chest of one, the bottle of nog in his hand flying and spilling on the walls.

~~~

Din dressed quickly. Nothing was missing or out of place, all whistling birds accounted for. They had no idea what they had, he mused. He checked his scanner and found the N-1 onboard.

“Did you come with a ship,” he yelled at the wall. He had his back to Meg who was hidden behind two rows of crates.

“Yes,” she offered breathlessly. “But I’m not going anywhere without my droid.”

Din scoffed quietly, but swallowed his scorn. “Is it that important?” He holstered his blaster and wondered if they should part ways now.

“You have no idea,” Meg said. “But we’ll get your kid first.”

Din started to turn in her direction but stopped, respectful of her privacy as she continued to dress. I guess I can trust her, he concluded. “Thank you.”

Before he could put his helmet on, he heard Meg exclaim, “You’re a Mandalorian! Haven’t seen one of you in awhile.”

He turned around to face her. She stood in the middle of the room with her helmet tucked under her left arm, its front painted to look like a skull. It and the rest of her armor was weathered black with red and white markings. Is she older than she looks, Din wondered. Her armor was clearly old. Maybe she stole it. And it was familiar, even similar to his.

“Interesting armor,” he said as he put his helmet on and walked past her to the door. No time for questions.

“Not as shiny as yours,” she chuckled before putting her helmet on, too. She followed close behind, vibroblade in one hand and blaster in the other.

These pirates seemed uninterested in strategy. The route to the bridge was unguarded. The few that crossed Din and Meg’s path seemed to have more stumbled in their direction than intentionally sought them out.

“Why are you stunning them,” Din growled as he clotheslined one pirate while shooting another. They don’t deserve mercy.

Meg was handling her own pair a few steps ahead. “I don’t want to hurt them!”

When they reached the bridge, they found the doors jammed.

“Cover me,” Meg instructed. Shuffling behind Din, she punched the air with her left arm and unsheathed a scomp link under her vambrance. She plugged in and maneuvered through the ship’s protocols until she unlocked the command deck doors.

They walked onto an empty bridge. Din and Meg’s helmets turned slightly towards each other, confusion suffusing the air. Ahead, they could see the ship was still in hyperspace. On the right, Grogu was perched on a control panel, eyes and ears downcast. As he looked up at the sound of footsteps, he squealed and put his arms up. Din rushed over.

“You alright, kid,” Din asked, picking Grogu up. It was Din’s turn to examine something priceless in his hands.

Meanwhile, oblivious to the reunion on her right, Meg rushed to a table on the left where a droid had been taken apart, its head and arms separated from its torso. Wires connected the head to a monitor where lines of code and information appeared and quickly crawled up the screen.

“Oh, AZ, what did they do to you,” Meg sighed. She cradled his head in her hands, and his eyes flickered on slowly.

“O-O-O-Omega?” His voice ascended quickly to its usual register.

“I’m here.” She seemed to take a moment of silence before remembering where she was. “It’s alright, I can fix you” she said as she put his head down and started unplugging wires. “We’ve been through worse.”

A short minute passed before AZ’s eyes were fully lit. “L-l-l-l-look who-who-who else is he-he-he-here.”

Meg turned around and saw Din with a small, green creature in his hands. Her mouth opened but couldn’t find words. She hurried her helmet off and onto the table. Grogu saw her face and jumped out of Din’s hands, squealing and scurrying across the floor as quickly as his little body could take him. She covered the remaining distance and met him in the open expanse of the bridge, scooping him up in her arms and squeezing him to her chest, her chin on his fuzzy head. Grogu cooed excitedly, happily.

“What are you- How-?” She still couldn’t find words. She pulled him away to smile down at him. “I never thought I’d see you again.”

Din’s left foot came forward as his right hand jerked towards his blaster. They were smiling and laughing, momentarily forgetting him. He lowered his hand.

“You know each other,” he interrupted, more curious than cautious now.

Meg looked up. Delight dropped to disbelief as she eyed the Mandalorian, her face betraying her suspicion. “You said ‘your child’…”

Before Din could explain, Meg cradled Grogu in her left arm and aimed her blaster at Din’s T visor. The bolt whizzed past his helmet and sparked against the monitors behind him. His arms went up in surrender. Surprised, Meg looked down at Grogu. Recovering quickly from deflecting her shot, he motioned downward with his right hand and Forced Meg’s blaster out of her grip and onto the floor. Din lowered his arms and met her glare.

Without warning, the ship lurched forward and dropped out of hyperspace. The flickering lights through the viewport gave way to a golden haze from a yellow star far too bright to be at a safe distance. Before Din could register the panel behind Meg light up with each ejected escape pod, the proximity alert rang. I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

#star wars #the mandalorian #the bad batch #din djarin #tbb omega #star wars fanfiction #the mandalorian fanfiction #the bad batch fanfiction #* #fic

[fangirlmermaid]

Please Princess

Summary: You were kidnapped by Kronos goons, and just when you thought it couldn't get any worse, a familiar face proved you wrong

Pairing: Luke Castellan x daughterofPoseidon!reader

warning: Angst!!!!!!!!!!!!!! Also kind of long (Sorry)

(This scene was inspired by Euphoria)

You’ve lost count of how many days since you’ve been in this cell. You don’t remember how one of Kronos’s goons managed to sneak up on you, one minute you were walking to the Poseidon Cabin late at night and the next you were in this small ass cell that only had a crappy spring mattress.

You were expecting Kronos’s goons to rough you up, but they haven’t. They’ve only come in once a day to give you food and water which you end up throwing back in the goon's faces. They still never laid a finger on you, you were starting to believe that you were leverage for whatever the hell your brother Percy was doing.

The next day you just sit Chris cross applesauce on the ground and face the wall when you hear footsteps. “Heard you were being stubborn” A familiar voice announced, your eyes widened No not him Luke was the last person you wanted to see. You touched the scar that laid across your cheekbone, something you got from that night.

You went to find Luke and Percy because they were taking a while and you wanted to enjoy the fireworks with them. You find them pointing their swords at each other, Luke tried to explain how Percy lied about not being the lightning thief but of course, you didn’t believe him which led to you and Percy trying to take Luke down. Luke swung backbiter intending to strike at Percy but he dodged and ended up cutting you.

You were heartbroken, Luke was the love of your life! You didn’t care about glory or getting the god's attention, as long as Luke was with you. You believed Luke cared about you too, he was your biggest supporter! This made you wonder if he was only dating you so you would be more willing to join Kronos.

Luke placed the tray on the small meal table on the cell door, “Come on please eat something” Luke’s voice laced with concern. You tried to blink away the tears, gods he’s still acting like he cares about you. You still sat with your back facing the man you once loved, even if you knew what you wanted to say, your voice couldn’t be found.

“You need to eat…please princess” Luke begged, when he called you his old nickname for you the memories that you tried to shut out came rushing back, all the campfires, sneaking to the lake at night, movie night on your phone. You couldn’t hold the tears back anymore, “don’t call me that” your voice cracked, Luke was relieved to hear her voice oh how he missed it.

He wanted to hear your voice more “Princess please, you have to understand” Luke tried to explain, and for the first time you looked at him filled with rage “Understand?” you mumbled, and you stood up “Understand?!” you yelled storming towards the cell door, words couldn’t describe how enraged you were “you betrayed us!” you yelled shoving the food tray back at Luke. The traitor didn’t flinch, “Y/N” Luke’s voice was soft, it felt weird that he was saying your real name “The gods don’t care about us, they have ignored us for too long. We’re just pawns to their game” Luke explained his eyes that only known kindness now replaced with spite and hatred, you glared at the man you once loved “So that’s supposed to make it okay for you to try to kill my brother?! He’s a kid!” You yelled white-knuckling the cell bars “I’m sorry for that Y/N, I am, but I need to make sure Kronos will rise” Luke explained, you felt your heart ripping once again.

You took a few steps back and looked at this monster who looked like the man you used to love. Your eyes darkened, You never thought he would kill a kid “That dragon should’ve fucking killed you” your voice laced with venom, that was a punch in the gut for Luke “You don’t mean that” Luke whispered his eyes glossed, “I do mean it!” you muttered at Luke who remained silent “You fucking betrayed us, Luke! You betrayed Annabeth! You betrayed me! And it fucking hurts Luke!” You shouted tears running down your face. Luke mumbled “I love you” You couldn’t believe that he had the nerve to say that “No you don’t!” your voice cracked, Luke nodded his head “I love you” he mumbled once again, Gods will he stop saying that “No you don’t! Stop saying that! You don’t love me!” You shouted, clapping your hands with the last sentence.

Luke has never seen you this angry especially at him, you guys have arguments but they were never this bad. You leaned into the cell bars wanting to look Luke in the eyes “I have a lot of regrets in my life, but I have to say that meeting you has to be on the top of my fucking list” You explained in a malicious tone, Luke's eyebrows raised. A tear ran down Luke's cheek “You don’t mean that princess” Luke mumbled, you’d be lying if you didn’t feel a little bit satisfied by making him cry “I.mean.every.fucking.word” you spat at him. Luke grabbed your hand before you could walk away to catch your breath “Stop” you mumbled trying to pull away but Luke tightened his grip, he turned your hand over, exposing your palm. You studied Luke who looked at you with love before giving your palm a soft kiss something he used to do all the time, your eyes glossed at the sight. Luke gave it a final kiss before letting go, you cradled it into your chest “Y/N, none of this was supposed to betray you. I love you, I’m doing this for us” Luke explained calmly, you looked at Luke with murderous eyes “We could’ve left, Luke. We could’ve lived in a cottage in the middle of nowhere, just like we used to talk about” You reminded in a low tone your throat was dry and sore from the screaming, Luke shook his head “You know it’s not that simple, not for us” Luke explained, you knew it was true there would be monsters knocking on your door every five minutes but you wouldn’t have cared. You started to laugh “You know you're no different than them” You stated looking up at your ceiling, Luke raised an eyebrow “The gods” you continued, you were walking side to side in your cell “That’s not true” Luke grumbled, you laughed one again “but you are. You’re no better than Zeus, you’re no better than Ares…you’re no better than your father” you muttered, you smiled in satisfaction when Luked at you with rage in his eyes “I am nothing like them,” Luke told his voice laced with venom, you nodded your head not believing him “you’re a fucking vampire. Just like them” you muttered, Luke stood there in disbelief “You just go around sucking the fucking spirit out of everyone!” You yelled pressing your face into the cell bars and looking him dead in the eyes, Luke shook his head “You know that’s not true” he reminded, your murderous eyes staring him down “It is fucking true!” you yelled before walking away from the bars.

Then Luke had the nerve to say the three words again “Y/N, please! I love you!” he shouted, you wished he would stop lying “No you love being loved! You love being needed and being awed at like your some whimsical fucking creature!” You yelled wishing the bars weren’t here so you could leave, Luke sighed before looking at you “I love you! What will it take for you to believe me?!” Luke shouted in frustration, you wiped away your old tears “If you want me to believe you then stay away from me” You muttered, Luke shook his head making you sigh in frustration “Then let Kronos’s goons kill me because looking at you makes me physically fucking ill!” you spat at him before walking into a corner with your back facing him, telling him that you are done talking to him.

You stood there until you heard the main door slammed, you turned around and he was gone. You felt like an idiot for dating him, you should’ve seen it coming. You should’ve killed him that night, he was no longer the man you loved. It’s all your fault, out of anyone in camp you should’ve been the one to know that he was up to something.

You slid down against the wall, you brought your knees into your chest, and you were hysterical crying into your knees. Even though with everything that is happening, deep down you still loved him and you wished you didn’t.

#luke castellan x reader #luke castellan x y/n #luke castellan #luke castellan x you #luke castellan imagine #luke castellan fanfic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson x reader

[fangswbenefits]

The Arrangement (3) - Inconvenience

Chapter summary: It is poetic irony that sharing a prison cell with Astarion is what eventually gets the two of you attempting to have a much needed conversation...

Pairing: Astarion x female!Tav

Warnings: 18+. Poison sucking. Blood. Angst.

Word count: 3.5k

Previous chapter . Series Masterlist . Ao3

"You're bleeding."

"I know."

"It's distracting."

"Then look away."

He scoffed. "I can smell it."

It really wasn't a desirable occurrence to end up in one of Baldur's Gate's prisons. The last time you had the displeasure of descending into one was to liberate Gortash's victims from the Iron Throne Prison.

You had rarely been on the side that needed rescuing.

But fate worked in strange ways and had you thrown into a cold and rusty cell, trying to figure out how you ended up in this situation to begin with.

The torches scattered along the pillars of stone outside the cell provided little to no sufficient light, and it only added to the looming sense of dread.

Ripping a scrap of cloth from your clothing, you wrapped it firmly around the bleeding slash across your wrist.

Astarion sat across from you, eyeing your every move with a faint smile on his lips.

"You could have just run away, you know," you began, bringing your knees up to your chin with a sigh. "You are immune to Sleep spells."

He scoffed again with an eye-roll. "Please. I allowed myself to get caught. Gods know you could use the help."

The throb in your head intensified and you winced as discomfort tore through your body, as his words hit you.

"What help? We're both trapped inside," you ground out in annoyance.

He lifted a finger. "That, my dear, is merely an inconvenience. I am quite sure I'd be able to lockpick our way out of this."

The damp-scented mattress underneath you squeaked as you leaned against the ragged wall. "Using what? Your fangs?"

Astarion clicked his tongue. "Creative, but no. I just need to find anything to help me get through that lock." He rose to his feet and moved to inspect the sturdy door with attentive eyes.

As promising as it sounded, you knew deep down that it wouldn't be an easy feat. The guards had stripped both of you down to only your shirts and trousers, and removed anything deemed too creative.

Besides, this whole ordeal had to be a misunderstanding of sorts. It would be wise to, at least, get some enlightenment.

"Maybe we should just wait for Wyll."

He turned to you, a touch of disbelief crossing his face. "His guards put us here, in case you need a reminder."

"We did nothing wrong," you said, clutching on to reason. "We are not criminals. It's all a misunderstanding, I'm sure."

Whether it was a case of you trying to believe your own words, or because there was truth to them, remained to be seen.

As a sorcerer, it would be rather easy to blast through the cell door and be done with it, but you would only entertain that option as a last resort.

"Well, I suppose it could be worse," he said in resignation, curious fingers still prodding the lock. "At least, they didn't shove us in a cell with windows."

The lack of any opening to the outside had made it hard for you to keep track of time, but given the silence and snores from the inhabitants in the adjacent cells, you reckoned the sun had yet to rise.

Astarion would be safe from its scorching rays, for the time being.

You felt something trickling down your wrist, and upon closer inspection, you realised the cloth around it was soaked with your blood.

Odd.

Astarion was still very much entertained with the hinges and structure of the cell door to take notice of your finding.

You quickly brought another rag torn from your cloak and wrapped even tighter over the existing one, applying as much pressure as you could withstand through the pain.

Very odd.

He was now squatting down, taking a closer look at the lock, fingers tugging and rattling the device.

A true rogue at heart.

"Or, I could be sharing this cell with someone far less entertaining – like Gale," he continued. "I'd just beg the guards for a stake to rid myself of my misery."

He finished off with a dramatic laugh, but you found yourself scowling deeply.

"Can you give Gale some credit where it's due? He's helping you out."

His narrowed crimson eyes met yours. "By 'helping' you mean what, exactly? Cooking abhorrent meals and reading books that would put a screeching babe to sleep? Hardly helpful, darling."

You decided to fully ignore his taunt as patience slipped from your tired mind.

"He's going to Waterdeep in a fortnight to speak with someone willing to help out with the Wish spell," you informed as calmly as possible. "I was on my way to tell you that a couple of hours ago before… well, this happened."

His features eased and he rose to his full height, his undivided attention on you.

"Truly? That sounds promising, I suppose," he said, folding his arms. "And here I thought you were simply longing for my company. My apologies, darling."

He wasn't entirely wrong, but you would never let him know.

Suddenly, the sound of metal shrieking echoed throughout the room, and a jab of pain drummed steadily in your head.

"Wake up, you loiter-sacks!" One of the guards yelled.

Pandemonium ensued.

A wave of groggy protests were heard all around. The insults and taunts came immediately after, and your eyes widened at the vulgarity of all of it, while Astarion held the most amused smile you had ever seen on him in a long while.

He truly thrived in all things chaotic.

Another voice was heard. "Shut it, will ya?! Or no food!"

It effectively subsided most of the protests, though an occasional whispered 'fucker!' slipped through the mouths of some prisoners.

Squeaking wheels of a cart came to a halt just outside your cell, and you bolted out of the mattresses, gripping the vertical metal bars.

"Can you please call for Wyll. We need to talk to him."

The grumpy man frowned. "Am just delivering food, sweetheart. Now, have yours and get back."

He shoved a bowl of what looked like powdered wood shavings. The smell was positively nauseating , and your stomach twist and turn in revulsion.

You placed your meal on the floor, not daring to take a single bite.

A laugh burst from him before he attempted doing the same to Astarion, who visibly shuddered as he dodged the man's hand.

"Ugh. I'll pass."

He snorted, grinning maliciously. "Food strikes ain't going to get you out o' here, pretty boy."

Astarion's face twisted into an outraged look, but before he could voice out a snarky remark, the same man as before was heard.

"That one's the vampire spawn."

The guard came into view, and the atmosphere in the prison cell shifted considerably. Silence took over, only broken by some vague whispers.

"Give him pig's blood."

A few gasps erupted. 

"I prefer fresh blood, thank you very much," Astarion scoffed, visibly offended. "I am not feeding on scraps."

"Astarion…" you warned him lowly, not wanting things to spiral out of control.

The delivery man shrugged to the guard and pushed the food cart out of the way so he could attend to the other prisoners.

Another guard joined in, removing his helmet to take a closer look.

"Then you'll have nothing. You are in no position to make demands, spawn."

Astarion tensed by your side but merely pressed his lips as a reply. 

"Thought so," the guard chuckled.

You gripped the bars tighter, earning their attention. "Tell us what we are charged with, then."

They both exchanged looks and the first one bared his teeth. "Playing dumb, are we?"

"We didn't do anything that would warrant an arrest!" You nearly yelled in frustration. "Call for Wyll, please!"

The older man leaned in with a snarl. "The Grand Duke is absent. He might return later today."

Your heart dropped.

"Might?"

He nodded in indifference. "His duties don't bend to the will of his friends."

"We didn't do anything wrong," you said in a shaky retort, pressing your forehead against the bars. "We didn't…"

"Look, not to sound ungrateful given our luxurious abode," Astarion interjected light-heartedly, gripping your shoulders to have you take a few steps away from them. "But you do know who we are, don't you?"

"We do, and you are not above the law."

"And which law did we break, if you don't mind clarifying, of course."

The older guard was clearly running out of patience. "Killing a civilian."

Your eyes shot up immediately, and your mouth dropped in shock.

Astarion spoke before you could, his voice bearing confusion. "What? We didn't kill anyone." 

"We found the body in the alleyway."

You gripped the bars again. "No! I used a Sleep spell – and he wasn't a civilian! He attacked me!"

He was now dangerously close to your face. "Listen here, princess. You are both in a sticky situation, and I advise you to watch your words."

Astarion pushed you back with his arm once again. "Lay a finger on her, and you might just turn into a vampire meal."

Tension increased tenfold all of a sudden, and you could only glare at Astarion who remained unmoved and determined to hold his menacing gaze.

"Maybe you'd prefer an overground cell, hm?" The guard spat in amusement. "Having the sun to keep you company. I'm certain we'd be sweeping your ashes from the floor before midday."

An intense wave of anger burst through you, and you reached through the bars, nearly gripping one of them. "Fuck you!"

They both laughed hysterically at your failed attempt.

One of them reached for a pouch and threw a vial at you. "A healing potion. Drink it, princess. You're bleeding out."

"Unless you are to be his vampire meal."

The other guard cleared his throat. "Oh, and be on your best behaviour, and don't even think of escaping. This place is riddled with traps."

"And we have our own mages," the other glared at you.

They laughed obnoxiously loud again before turning on their feet and walking out.

You glanced at the vial in your hand, its crimson content undulating faintly.

Blood kept on seeping through the makeshift bandages around your wrist. The blood flow hadn't decreased, and a couple of droplets were dripping on the floor.

"Drink it," Astarion urged you, pulling his eyes away from the sanguine mess.

You could tell he was extremely tense all of a sudden, slowly pacing away from where you stood.

The compulsion to drink blood could be blinding at times, and you couldn't blame him for wanting to keep a distance given the current circumstances.

You quickly popped the lid off the container and downed the sweetened liquid, immediately feeling a rush of warmth coursing through your body with each pump of your heart.

Unwrapping the soaked pieces of cloth, you noticed the slash had barely healed at all, and that the blood kept pouring out.

Astarion had definitely noticed your confusion, gripping your forearm.

"Poison," he finally said upon inspecting the wound.

You stared at him wide-eyed, as the realisation hit you hard.

They had poisoned you?

"No wonder the flow didn't decrease with the potion."

Panic spread quickly. "Why would they poison me?"

"It was most likely unintentional," he concluded, smearing his thumb across the layer of blood near your wound. "They must have coated their weapons with it and slashed you by mistake."

"We need to call them for an antidote."

He shook his head. "I doubt they have one at hand – one that actually works. These idiots aren't well-versed in poisons to begin with."

Unlike him.

"What now?"

His eyes met yours. "Do you trust me?"

You stiffened, alarm bells going off in your head. He would never ask this unless… "You're about to do something questionable, aren't you?"

"Questionable, but potentially life-saving. How do you fancy your odds?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat. "What do you have in mind?"

"I will suck the poison out."

Instinctively, you tried to yank your arm from his grip. "No."

He simply glared at you. "This is your best option, darling."

You eased slightly, knowing fully well he was far more experienced in poisons than you were, and between 'bleeding out to death' and 'trusting your vampire friend who also happens to know a lot about this subject', you were far more inclined to pick the latter.

But then…

"What about you? It can be dangerous."

He chuckled in amusement. "I'm undead. Besides, I won't swallow this blood. I am vehemently against wasting yours, but exceptions must be made."

"Just… be careful."

He nodded, and you watched in awe as he brought your wrist to his lips, enclosing them around the wound. As he started off with gentle suckles, you saw the first droplets of blood dribble down from the corner of his mouth.

His touch was cold as ice, and you felt his fangs lightly press against your skin, but not hard enough to break the barrier. After all, your open wound – even if not that deep or wide – was enough to draw blood.

Somewhere along the line, his eyes fluttered shut as he held you in place, and your heart skipped a few beats.

Oddly intimate.

He parted from you not long after, all bloodied, and spitting the remainder of the warm liquid on the floor. 

"What a terrible way to taint your blood," he said with a wince. "It tasted… rotten."

He then grabbed a hold of your cloak – or what was left of it – and wiped his lips and chin clean.

"Just horrid."

Under different circumstances, you would have reprimanded him for it, but it was a fair exchange.

The flow of blood had already begun to waver, and you heaved a sigh of relief.

"Are you well?"

He nodded dismissively with a shudder. "The things I do for you, honestly."

Surprisingly, that did bring a faint smile to your lips.

Even if only for a fleeting moment, you were reminded of the many perils you had faced alongside each other.

He had your back, and you had his. 

No matter what.

However, It still felt grim that it took an erroneous arrest and being shoved into a prison cell to catch a glimpse of the trusting bond you once shared.

One that wasn't built on a mere transaction.

He silently eyed you for a moment, with an expression that was hard to decipher.

Then, he cleared his throat and walked over to his own mattress, placing his cloak along the length of it as a way to keep the damp at bay, before taking a seat.

Classic Astarion.

"Do you reckon I can now blame Gale for us ending up in this situation?"

You arched an eyebrow, wrapping yet another piece of cloth over your closing wound. "If anything, I should be blaming you, no? We're all doing this for you."

He shrugged with a side-smile. "Fair enough."

"I didn't kill that man… I don't get it…"

"I know you didn't, but it's not me you need to convince."

You sat down in defeat, rubbing your temple. "None of this makes sense…"

"No point in dwelling on it now," he said with a click of his tongue, inspecting his nails. "Get some rest."

You blinked. "I cannot rest in a place like this."

His eyes lifted briefly. "Darling, we've had worse."

"... and better." You mumbled.

"I'll give you the 'better' once we get out of here, then. Happy now?"

You winced at his words.

"Why do you do this?" You asked, unable to contain yourself.

He dropped his hand to the side, brows furrowed. "Do what?"

"This! This constant push and pull," you said, feeling the impulsiveness take control. "I try to have a proper conversation with you, and you just… push me away."

Astarion scoffed dramatically. "This is hardly the time or the place to be having this conversation."

"I tried to have you come stay with us… even when you're feeling more… vulnerable… you never let me in," you said in exasperation, words stinging in your throat. "You just…"

The words died in your mouth at the look he gave you.

It wasn't a look of anger or annoyance or outrage.

Just… nothing.

Like he wasn't even listening to you.

"Astarion?"

As if you had just snapped him out of his thoughts, he shook his head briefly, but didn't look in your direction.

"Go get some rest."

Had you pushed too far? He didn't sound upset, but then again, he was a master in deception whenever the situation called for it.

"Astarion…"

He was gazing out of the cell door, as if something far more interesting was worthy of his attention.

"I wasn't the one who pushed you away."

You sat up straighter, heart hammering fast against your ribcag. "Then who?"

"You did."

"What?"

He turned his head to you this time. "Don't pin this on me. You had all of me, and you chose to walk away."

A growing feeling of discomfort began to rise within you, competing with the confusion that had taken root.

And then…

Moonrise Towers.

That night.

"You didn't need a lover."

He sneered. "What about what I wanted?"

"Astarion, you–"

He immediately cut you off. "Don't. I wanted to be with you. I yearned for you like I never did for anyone else, and you chose the easy way out."

You were at a loss for words.

The conversation with Gale the day before immediately came to mind.

"Easy way out? You actually think I didn't have feelings for you back then?"

"Gods, then you should have fought for me – with me!"

He was being unreasonable. The pain of rejection had certainly seeped deeply into him, and it was now resurfacing brutally.

"And I did that! By giving you time and space. Besides, we had more pressing matters back then that required our undivided attention."

He looked back at you coolly. "How many nights did we spend thinking it would be our last?"

That caught you off guard.

"How many nights did you cry yourself to sleep, not knowing if we'd live to see another day?"

You fell silent, unsure of what to say.

"Yet you preferred having that emptiness and despair for company instead of being with me," he went on, his words were as knives that cut through you ruthlessly. "So do not lecture me about pushing others away, when you so clearly excel at that."

It took you a moment to find your voice again amidst the concoction of emotions that swirled in your head.

His accusations were unfounded. You knew this. But realising that that was how he really felt about the entire situation made you feel sadness beyond comparison.

That he mistook your altruism for selfishness. 

"I did what was best for you… and for us."

You wouldn't cry. 

You couldn't cry.

"And was that what you wanted?"

"What you needed mattered more than what I wanted. That's how much I cared for you," you said, voice wavering. "And I still do. Even through all your deception and lies and manipulation… you still came first."

That seemed to have taken him by surprise, and his face softened.

"You constantly mistake what you want with what you need, not even caring about the possible consequences," you went on with newfound vigour.

He scowled yet again. "I constantly cast aside what I want in favour of others."

You scoffed in disbelief. "You're not the epitome of selflessness you think you are, Astarion."

"What I want still matters!"

"If you'd done what you wanted, you would have sacrificed the souls of seven thousand spawn!" You exploded in a fit of rage. 

You were met with silence.

Deafening silence.

"You would have become the Vampire Ascendant and lost yourself in the process."

After glaring at you for a while, he then had the nerve to laugh. "Maybe that would have been the better option."

A sudden wave of nausea settled in the pit of your stomach. "You don't mean that."

"Stop speaking for me," he said through gritted teeth, words dripping with poison. "I had enough of it for two hundred years under his command – stop it!"

Your mouth had dropped open, and you were left speechless.

"Oi! Lovebirds, quit the chit-chat." One of the nearby guards rattled on the metal bars with a mace. "I'm afraid marriage counselling is postponed until further notice."

The other prisoners laughed and whistled teasingly as he walked away. 

Decided you were done with this conversation, you leaned back and rolled down to your side, facing the wall and fighting back the tears that had begun to roll down your cheeks.

You just couldn't stand looking at him.

Or even being near him.

You could only hope that Wyll would come back sooner rather than later, so you could finally get away from Astarion.

For good.

Disclaimer: sucking the poison from one's wound (in case of a snake bite, for example) has been discredited many decades ago. It's not really effective, and can do more harm than good, especially to the person doing the sucking. But for the purposes of this story, it works because fiction and magic and all that! Let's suspend our disbelief for a moment 😌

I don't keep taglists, so please consider adding this story to your alerts on Ao3 🩷

Next chapter: Solution

Series Masterlist . Masterlist

#astarion x female tav #astarion smut #astarion x female reader #astarion x tav #astarion x you #astarion x reader #astarion angst #astarion bg3 #astarion #astarion fanfic #astarion x mc

[seetangus]

Oh how about: Reader loving Azula throughout her mental health crisis and still visiting her in the asylum. So, as she heals, she realizes how much she loves the Reader… and maybe through the story, you could see her reactions to certain things like if R talked about another girl like Ty Lee or something, Azula would feel jelly but doesn’t understand why or if R talks about Zuko she may think she’d like Zuko more like their mother…

idk but it’s sounds fun and I know you are awesome at writing so I bet it’ll be good!

Healing - Azula x reader

[Masterlist]

Azula x gn reader, no warnings

1.897 words, I hope you like it! :)

The metal door closed audibly, its movement making the torches close to it flicker. They barely spent enough light to make things visible in the cell. Now you two were alone.

Azula sat in front of you, tied to a metal chair in a straitjacket. It was a humiliating treatment for a princess, you thought. Still, your heart felt great relief from seeing her again after several months of waiting. It had been difficult to convince the new fire lord Zuko and his comrades to let you visit Azula, as you were considered dangerous due to your loyalty to princess Azula that you had maintained even during the last days of the war. But here you were, finally seeing her, the one your heart ached for, again.

“Hello Azula. I am happy to see you again.”, you said truthfully but very quietly. You did not dare asking her how she felt. Seeing Azula, who had always been so confident and strong in a weak and broken state like this intimidated you.

You could not make out what Azula was thinking. You had been told that she had for some time behaved like a raving maniac, screaming and trying to attack anyone who came close to her. But that phase seemed to be over now. It was obvious Azula was mentally still in a very precarious situation, but right now she was rather calm. At least it seemed like she was.

“What are you doing here, y/n.”, she asked. Your heart jumped at hearing her voice, even if it sounded differently than before. What she said did not sound like a question, but you still answered: “I wanted to see you.” Quieter, you added: “Maybe you need someone to talk to.”

A small silence followed. You could tell that Azula was, even if it had been months, still very stressed and angry about her defeat against Zuko. Still, with a heartwarming effort, Azula tried to initiate a peaceful conversation by asking you about the current situation of the fire nation and other wide-ranging topics. You happily answered all her questions. The conversation got more concrete when she asked about her old friends. Ty Lee, Mai, Iroh and even her brother Zuko. All the ones that had betrayed her. You told about their new positions and how they behaved. You also told her that, as you had remained in your position in the royal palace even after the changing of the fire lord, you were somehow reconnecting with some of them, even if it went slowly.

While listening to you, Azula increasingly looked lost. You would have expected her to be angry at the traitors taking her place in the hierarchy of the fire nation, but she seemed to worry about something entirely different. Nevertheless you talked with eachother until the visiting time was over and the guards ordered you to leave. You also realised your eyes hurt because of the dim light in the cell - it must be painful for Azula to stay here all day.

Having left her cell, a guard told you that they had feared for the worst and were surprised at how calm Azula had been with you. You couldn’t imagine why that was either.

< • ◇ • >

A few weeks passed until your next visit. In that time Azula had changed much; you were told she was still a bit unpredictable, but her violent outbursts had ended completely and she was overall more stable. That had led to the guards daring to attach extra torches to the walls of her cell, finally making the room brighter so your eyes didn’t hurt anymore. The whole atmosphere was different this visit, it was less depressing.

This time you greeted her a bit more confidently and with a smile. It would have been hard not to smile when seeing your loved one feel better. She also looked better than last time - her hair looked less messy and she did not have bags under her eyes. You were genuinely happy it went uphill with her, and you didn’t hide it:

“Hello Azula, you look beautiful today!”

Your warm greeting seemed to have catched Azula off guard; you could see she hesitated a bit before answering, and you even saw her blush a bit, but surely it was only the warm light of the torches combined with your own feelings that made you imagine it. Azula wouldn’t blush. Once Azula answered though, she did so with her old attitude: “Of course I look good, y/n. Did you expect me not to?”

That might not have been the most welcoming and thankful answer she could have given, but at least it proved she really felt better, more like back when she wasn’t here. Ah, you couldn’t wait for when she would boss you around and insult anyone else again like in the good ol’ days.

But enough of the dreaming, back to reality! Azula simply made you tell her anything that you thought might interest her. She said she TRUSTED you on choosing the right topics. That was obviously a very unusual thing for her to say but you took it as a compliment and started speaking, mostly about how things changed under the rule of her brother and how the people she knew behaved. Every time you spoke about Ty Lee or Mai you could see her eyebrows furrow and she did not comment again until you changed topics. When you mentioned that Mai and Zuko were a couple, her whole face lit up and she interrupted you, exclaiming: “Ha! That’s fantastic! Isn’t it great, y/n?” You agreed but Azula suddenly feeling happy for her brother genuinely confused you.

Anyhow, Azula soon seemed to become annoyed by the things you told her about the people she knew. After some time she simply cut you off and said: “Yes yes uncle Iroh’s new tea shop is interesting and I should care but I want you to tell me more about yourself.” At first, you were dumbfounded, but since she seemed to really be interested (and also since it was impossible not to fulfill any request of hers anyways), you talked about yourself for the rest of your visit.

Some time later, the guards opened the door and told you to leave. You had already said good-bye to Azula and turned to go away, but she suddenly made a harsh move with her head, loosening a few strands of her hair that now dangled down. “Oh y/n, before you leave, would you be so kind and fix this?”, she purred with unusual kindness, inevitably making you feel butterflies.

Hesitantly, you turned around and lifted your hand to her beautiful hair, gently brushing it back into place. She just smirked triumphantly and let you leave. You couldn’t put into words how heavenly you had felt that moment, despite the stares of the guards.

After you were gone, Azula thought about what had happened. Why had she done this. Making her hair messy on purpose to ask you to fix it. Not that it hadn’t felt good, feeling human touch after months of deprivation had actually felt awesome, she just genuinely did not know why she had suddenly felt the need to get your attention. And why did she feel so hurt when you talked about Ty Lee or Mai? She did not like not knowing the answer to something, so she was determined to get it the next time you visited.

< • ◇ • >

You did not let Azula wait for long. As quickly as the harsh regulations of the Asylum allowed, you returned. According to the guards, who prepared you for the visit, Azula had been behaving much better: there had been no angry outbursts or attempts to harm anyone at all since your last visit.

Luckily for Azula, her good behaviour had led to an even greater improvement in the furnishing of her cell: the torches had been replaced with lanterns who emitted a brightness that somewhat resembled daylight, making it much more bearable to stay in her cell.

“How do you feel, Azula?”

“I’m well, y/n. Actually, it is very relieving that you are here now, because I can finally ask you some very important questions.”

Naturally, Azula saying your name made you feel butterflies. She sounded almost like her old self again. “I’m happy to answer anything you ask me.”, you assured, excited about what questions she could have for you. You looked at her expectantly.

She also only looked at you instead of asking questions. Well, she did not just ‘look’, she seemed to have… found something on you that interested her very much. More than any question she could ask you.

“Your eyes look very happy, y/n.”, she suddenly said.

You had not been prepared for that. Your eyes widened, making Azula grin. It was not her usual grin, though. It seemed like this grin was not fueled by self-absorption and superiority as it had been until now, but rather Azula seemed to be genuinely happy, feeling real joy. You had never seen that on her before, so naturally you were very happy for her! And for yourself, for being able to witness such a beautiful moment and being part of it.

“Oh I wish the visits weren’t this short.”, Azula said, her gaze still venturing in the depth of your eyes. You were a bit confused. “Azula, the visit has just started - we have plenty of time. Also, I will come back soon! As soon as possible!”, you quickly assured.

Azula tried getting closer to you, but she was restrained by her chains. You had both almost forgotten about them. “Y/n, I do not only want to be with you during visits.”

You were speechless. All your blood was gathering in your head and your voice decided this would be a good moment to give up. “A-azula … I want to see you more often too…” you mustered up all the courage you had. “In fact”, you gulped, “I feel pained in every moment we are separated from eachother.”

Azula smirked and lifted her nose up, making her look as powerful as before; she was clearly enjoying you being flustered. But there was something different, something new in her eyes. Something that had not been there a few months ago, and that had grown each time you visited her.

“You like me, y/n, don’t you?”

Azula lowered her head, and it seemed like there even was a bit of worry or insecurity in her voice when she asked again: “You do, right?”

“Yes Azula, I do.”

You wanted to hug her, caress her and hold her close, but knowing that the guards would rush in and restrain you, it was better to remain sitting. You did not hold back expressing your affection verbally, though.

Azula was, like always, the first one to regain her composure, and you tried to do so as well, although it was not easy.

“Well, it’s settled then.", Azula said.

“... What’s settled?”, you asked, unsure of what she meant.

“When I get out of here,'' Azula answered, “I will arrange that we see eachother much more often than we currently do and that the royal family welcomes a new member. And now tell me again how much you love me, y/n.”

#azula x reader #atla #atla x reader #azula #azula x y/n #atla azula #azula avatar #azula x gn reader #x reader #avatar imagine #avatar #avatar the last airbender #character x you #character x reader #x y/n #x you

[navybrat817]

Mission Report

Pairings: Incubus!Stucky x Enhanced!Female Reader, Incubus!Bucky Barnes x Female Reader, Incubus!Steve Rogers x Female Reader Summary: After a night with the two demons, Brock comes to collect your body and faces the fury of all three of you. Word Count: Over 4k Warnings: Explicit sexual content, threesome, unprotected sex, vaginal fingering, spitroasting, blood, violence (shooting, stabbing, and more), physical and mental torture, dark elements, death, revenge, implied noncon, possessive behavior, supernatural elements, Incubus Stucky (that's a warning, lovelies!). A/N: Fic #10 and final fic for Navy's Trick or Treat Nonsense! I had to revisit my incubi the day before Halloween and this is a direct follow up to Ready to Comply. ❤️ Not beta read and written on my phone, so any and all mistakes are my own. Divider by the talented @firefly-graphics. Please follow @navybrat817-sideblog for new fics and notifications. Comments, reblogs, feedback are loved and appreciated!

Less than a day passed since Bucky and Steve claimed you as their own, but it felt like you always belonged to them. You were their eternal award for their capture. They were your reward for the pain you endured. The three of you would scorch the earth together.

Your captors weren't strong enough to endure the flames.

As you lay naked on the floor as instructed, you counted the footsteps as the squad members got closer. There were three pairs of heavy boots, one set which belonged to Brock Rumlow. You almost pushed yourself up when fiery anger coursed through your veins. You wanted him turned to ash just so you could watch the wind blow him away into nothingness. It would be glorious to smile in the face of his demise.

“She feels your rage, Buck. Reign it in,” Steve ordered from where he sat in the corner.

“No,” Bucky spoke in an almost laidback tone from the opposite corner. “Let her feel it.”

In the very short time they bound you to them, you figured out that Steve was the more assertive of the two. It didn't mean Bucky wasn't forceful when he had to be. At the moment though, he wanted you to feel a bit more of his impulsive side.

“Now isn’t the time,” Steve chastised, making Bucky scoff in reply.

You lost the concept of time the day you were unwillingly taken under Hydra's wing. Counting down the hours, minutes, and seconds did you no good as you waited for whatever horror they decided to unleash upon you. The days were no longer a precious gift, but a stark reminder that you were closer to death.

A sound reminiscent of a snarl escaped as you opened your mouth. “Hydra took everything from me,” you grumbled as angry tears sprang to your eyes. “I want their blood to stain the ground. I want it to paint the walls.”

Thanks to the demons in your cell, your demons, you would get your revenge. You would live to fight again. And you would live to serve them. You promised them forever, after all.

An odd sense of comfort surrounded you and allowed you to breathe a bit easier. “We can feel your pain, sweetheart,” Steve whispered.

Bucky hummed, the warmth doubling within your chest. “We can also feel your strength, doll.”

“We'll spill their blood,” the blonde promised as you blinked the tears away. “But not if you're impatient. We need you to act docile when they take you out of the room.”

“Stevie's right. We know you're angry. We all are. They'll pay. Trust us,” the brunette agreed. “And we'll have lots of fun along the way.”

Demons were many things and played lots of tricks, but one thing they wouldn't do was lie to you. It allowed you to let the hurt go for the time being. “I'll behave,” you whispered when the footsteps stopped in front of the door.

“That's our girl,” the incubi said in unison, the words wrapping around your heart and reminding you that you weren't alone in this fight.

The bond crackled between the three of you as the door swung open. It allowed you to remain still, just like they told you to. You made no move to cover yourself as the men observed you on the floor. Your demons also made no move to go toward them. With the symbol above the doorway, there was no way for them to escape.

Yet.

“Well, well, well. I thought we’d find a corpse when we opened the door,” Brock smirked. Instead of snapping back the way you wanted to, you made a wounded sound instead. “But I guess they fucked the fight out of you after all.”

“She was a lot of fun to play with,” Bucky said, the phantom touch of his claw moving along your back easing you. “Really does go pliant with a cock in her.”

You had to bite your lip to suppress your moan. They wrung so much pleasure out of you that you stopped counting the orgasms. You were certain their seed was still dripping out of your holes.

“She was stronger than most,” Steve added, one of his claws joining Bucky’s as you made another small sound. It was arousing as much as it was calming. As fun as it would be to beg for their cocks in front of these men, now wasn’t the time to play. And the guards weren’t an audience who deserved to watch you get off. “Feel free to bring her back.”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Fucking freaks,” Brock sneered, his hand tightening around the taser prod on his hip. “Get up, bitch. We don’t have all day.”

You slowly lifted your head and held a hand out. All you had to do was pretend just a little bit longer. “Help me,” you whispered.

His lip curled in a dark smirk as he stayed in place. “You really think I’m dumb enough to go in there? Nice fucking try. Crawl if you can't walk.”

Bucky growled in your mind and Steve’s fury simmered in your core as you began to drag yourself across the cold floor, both of your demons itching to attack when the men laughed at your “weakened” state. You let them have their fun. It would be one of the last things they ever did in this world. And it would be your laughter ringing in their ears once their souls went to Hell.

Soon.

Once you crawled far enough out of the room, the guards finally moved to grab you. They each took an arm and yanked you to your feet, uncaring of your discomfort, as your head lolled from side to side. Brock’s eyes lewedly dragged along your shivering frame before he grabbed your chin and forced you to look into his dark eyes. There was no mercy in his gaze.

And you felt none in your heart for him.

The fingers on your chin tightened painfully, but you didn’t give Brock the satisfaction of whimpering. “Did you learn your lesson?”

“Yes, sir,” you answered before he forced you to look over your shoulder, your neck straining from the angle. Bucky and Steve’s eyes glowed a furious shade of red as they moved to the center of the room and stared you both down. It would’ve frightened you if you didn’t know that they were yours.

“I think they miss you already. Slut,” Brock taunted, saliva hitting your cheek as he roughly released you and walked down the hall. “Bring her to my office. Let’s see her fight back when she can barely stand on her own two feet.”

Steve whispered one word as the men began to drag you away. “Now.”

A surge of energy flowed through you as you harshly shoved the guard to your right away with enough force that he smacked the wall. Before the other guard could react, you grabbed his gun from his holster and aimed at his head. “Safety first,” you said, firing a bullet through his skull.

“Stupid bitch,” the first guard snapped as he straightened up. You grabbed his wrist when he reached for his gun, his skin warming under your touch as he gasped air. Just as quickly as his skin grew hot, he grew deathly cold.

“You feel that?” Bucky moaned.

“I feel it,” Steve confirmed. “She's giving us his energy.”

You didn't know how you were doing that since Bucky and Steve used sex to drain life force. Were you a conduit now thanks to your bond? Just how powerful had they made you?

“Help,” the guard gasped before you pressed the gun to his forehead and fired. You smiled when his body hit the floor. It felt like minutes, but happened in the span of seconds.

The blood along the walls also brought an unexpected moan out of you.

Blood. Red. Lust.

“That’s our girl,” Steve praised.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky added, their pride in you making you whimper.

“Really?” Brock muttered from the end of the hall as he turned to face you, his gun in hand as you shrugged. “I should’ve known you’d do something stupid. Now I need to hire two more men.”

“Actually, you’re the one who did something stupid by giving me to them,” you said, gesturing behind you. “And we’re going to kill you.”

Your captor’s scoff made you smile more. He didn’t believe you, but you couldn’t wait to prove him wrong. “Just because you have the serum doesn't mean you're not expendable,” he said, aiming the gun at your heart. “Let's see you try and kill me with a bullet in your chest, bitch.”

“You’re not going to shoot me,” you spoke in a low and hypnotic voice. It wasn’t your own. Your demons were speaking through you. “You’re going to shoot the symbol above the door until you run out of bullets and drop your weapon.”

A bead of sweat rolled down Brock’s forehead as he slowly raised his arm higher, the veins in his neck straining as he tried to resist the order. He had every reason to be afraid. The marking was the only reason Bucky and Steve hadn’t killed him yet. Once they were free, he’d have to answer for his sins.

“What the fuck?” he asked.

“Doesn't feel good to not be in control, does it?” you replied, taking great pleasure in knowing he couldn't stop himself. “Shoot.”

You stared him down as he fired the first shot, watching him grit his teeth. Your nipples hardened as he fired again and you couldn’t help but dip a hand between your legs as power continued to move through you. It shouldn’t have aroused you so much with two dead bodies nearby, but revenge was exhilarating to say the least.

“Don’t get started without us,” Bucky called out, even as you envisioned him wrapping a hand around his cock. With a whine, you grudgingly stopped touching yourself. “I wanna taste you while he begs for his life.”

“Oh, he’ll beg,” Steve smirked, his claws scratching the wall by the door. “And we won’t listen to his prayers.”

“Shit,” Brock groaned, his arm trembling as he took his last shot.

The hall went silent as you dared to look behind you. Whatever marking that kept the demons trapped in that cell was gone now, lost in a pile of rubble and dust on the ground. “It’s time to play,” you said, urging them to come out.

The gun fell from Brock’s hand as Steve took the first step. He sighed happily when nothing prevented him from walking through, but the glow of his eyes was anything but comforting as he looked at Brock. With unnatural speed, he flew toward him as he reached for his radio. The snap of his wrist breaking was one of the best sounds you’d ever heard.

“Mmm. Break his other wrist, Stevie,” Bucky suggested as he stepped out of the room and joined you at your side. You gasped when he pulled you in front of him to grind his hips against you, his cock hard and hot against your skin. “Make him scream.”

“Fuck-” Brock screamed as Steve snapped his other wrist, his hands useless as the blonde demon grinned.

Steve brought his finger to his mouth and licked a drop of blood away. “You taste bitter,” he taunted before he lifted his head. “Another guard is on the way.”

Bucky chuckled as said man entered the hall a moment later. “All alone? That's brave and stupid.”

“Oh, my God,” he said as he surveyed the scene.

It had to be quite the sight. Blood and brain matter along the walls, the man's boss on the ground in pain, you and your demons naked and unafraid. Haunting and beautiful.

“There's no God here,” Bucky smirked as he lazily rocked his hips against you. “But feel free to pray anyway.”

“Do something!” Brock ordered through his pain.

Bucky spoke a command in his natural tongue as the guard dropped his gun. Fear radiated from him as he took a knife from his belt and turned the edge toward his throat. “I don't wanna-” he shoved the blade deep in his neck with wide eyes before he could finish his statement, gurgling as he collapsed.

“Die,” you whispered, completing his sentence.

You had to bite back a moan as Bucky turned your head to meet your lips in a filthy kiss, Steve smirking as he looked back at you two. The carnage fueled their need as much as yours. As the coppery scent of the blood continued to fill your nostrils, you justified that this was the right thing to do. The men made their beds.

They could die in them.

“Come in,” a voice on Brock's radio rang out.

“Shh. Don’t make a sound,” Steve ordered, grabbing Brock’s radio as the operative went eerily silent. His eyes bulged as the demon began to speak with his voice. “Go ahead.”

“Thought I heard commotion in the hall. Sent David in to assist. Do you need more backup? Over.”

“Negative. Subject tried to escape and we subdued her. All clear. But no one is to go in the South Wing, no matter what you see or hear. And tell all S.T.R.I.K.E. members to gather in the debriefing room and await further instructions. Over.”

“But sir-”

Steve's eyes flashed as he continued to speak like Brock. “Did I fucking stutter? Get the men there and stay the fuck out of here. That's a direct order. Over.”

“Roger that.”

Bucky chuckled when Steve crushed the radio in his hand. No alarms rang out. No soldiers ran down the hall to recapture you. There were no lockdowns. Brock knew he was fucked.

And not in the way you would be.

“You know, Rumlow. You truly are a dark soul with a penchant for pain,” the brunette began, nipping your shoulder as his hands roamed your body. “We could’ve worked out some sort of deal with you. Given you true power. But you just had to lock us up.”

Something dark surfaced from the depths of your mind as you listened. You saw yourself curled up, naked and trembling, in the corner of a cell similar to the one they kept your demons in as Brock advanced on you. “Make yourself useful or you’ll die choking on my cock,” he threatened. It was a memory you kept locked away after they captured you and shot you up with the serum. One they thought they erased for good.

The anguish was almost enough to drown yourself in.

“And you just had to hurt our girl,” Steve snarled, swiping his claws across Brock’s cheek when you whined.

“No one hurts our girl,” Bucky growled over his cry as blood sprayed from the open wounds.

You no longer felt like you were drowning as they fed you strength, allowing you to see clearly again. You always wanted someone protective by your side. Someone to fight for you. Now you had two beside you.

“He can’t hurt me anymore,” you said as the blonde grabbed him by his hair and pulled him back down the hall toward you. He may have yanked a few strands out along the way. “Would you like to hear my mission report, Rumlow?”

His chest heaved a bit as he lay on the ground, trying to breath steadily through the pain. “Yes,” he lied, knowing better than to smart off again.

You arched your back when Bucky covered your breast with his hand, squeezing it gently as Steve joined you and began to play with the other. “You tossed me in their cell with the hopes they’d drain my energy, but I came out stronger. You know why? Because I gave myself to them. All of me,” you explained. A gunshot rang out before Brock screamed and grabbed his knee, the pistol you stole from the dead guard now in Steve's hand. “Their power flows through my veins and my soul belongs to them. We’re bound to each other.”

“And her energy is delicious. Just like her cunt,” Bucky smiled as he turned and shoved you into Steve’s arms. He sank to his knees and winked before he tossed your leg over his shoulder, nosing at your slit. “Hold my horns if you need to.”

“I supposed we should thank you,” Steve said, tossing the gun away. He brought a hand back to your breast, pinching your nipple as Bucky licked along your folds. You grabbed his horns and squeezed when his wicked tongue got to work. “Whatever you injected her with helped her survive what would've killed a normal human. And the more we fucked her, the more she needed us.”

“Such a greedy, pretty thing when she takes our cocks,” Bucky spoke against your pussy, the image of him fucking your throat while Steve took you from behind shimmering in your mind. You could feel them inside you, claiming you as theirs. “Didn’t even take much for her to come when we took her ass.”

Your holes clenched, desperate for them to fill you again. “You tried to turn me into a weapon,” you moaned, smiling as blood dripped from Brock’s leg. “I guess, in a way, you succeeded. Because we’re going to destroy Hydra.”

Bucky flicked the tip of his tongue against your clit as you squirmed. It wasn't enough. You needed more. “Three guards down.”

Steve smiled as he kissed along your neck, his lips lingering on your pulse. “And you’re next, Rumlow.”

“No,” Brock breathed, pushing himself up with his elbow. Fire filled your eyes when he met your gaze, his face going pale under your stare. Were your eyes glowing? “I-I can still join you. I can help.”

“I don’t think you can help us,” Steve said, nodding down to Bucky. His tongue stabbed deep with a moan as he swiped his hand along Brock’s thigh, his claws tearing through the tactical pants and skin. More blood splattered as he screamed in agony. “But you can bleed.”

“Beg. I want you to beg for me to save you,” you moaned, grinding against the brunette’s face before your expression twisted with anger. “I was innocent, you piece of shit.”

Where was your innocence now? Gone. Destroyed. But you made a choice. You allowed yourself to slip into darkness by joining forces with the incubi they captured. And you didn't regret it for a second.

“Please,” Brock said above a whisper, trying in vain to cover his wounds. How much had it taken for him to say that single word? “I-I was just following orders. I'm sorry. Save me.”

You regarded Brock with an unsympathetic gaze. You could show him compassion that he never bestowed upon you and let him see that there was still good in you. But where was the fun in that? What kindness did you possibly owe him?

You glanced back at Steve as you considered it, who merely smiled and pressed a soft kiss to your lips. You felt Bucky smile, too. They encouraged your fury, fueled it. These demons truly were glorious. Horrifying.

And they were yours.

“You're not sorry and you know the orders were bullshit. So as far as saving you?” You asked, smiling when the realization of his doom crossed his face. “No, I don’t think I will.”

Brock's hands flew to his head as he let out a cry of anguish. It filled the hall, like a song of agony as the lights flickered. The sound almost shook you to your core, but it fed into your growing darkness. You embraced it with a smile.

“Do you know who those screams in your head belong to?” Steve asked evenly as Brock continued to yell and thrash around. “That's the suffering of every person you ever hurt. All the pain you caused.”

Bucky pulled his mouth away to glare at him. “Including our girl.”

How many bodies had Brock and his men left on their path of destruction? How many lives had they ruined? It was only fair to return the favor.

“Stop it! Make it stop!” Brock cried, slamming the back of his head against the ground with enough force to crack it. “Stop!”

You cried out when Bucky shoved two fingers inside you, his claws careful not to cut you as he thrust deep. “You're close, doll. Dripping down my fingers,” he said, the sound of your wetness blending in beautifully with the wail of pain.

“He's close, too,” Steve said in your ear as he reached down to toy with your clit, playing with the sensitive bud with a grunt. You hardly paid any attention to Brock now, even as his body twitched and blood from his skull stained the floor. He was inconsequential to you as the light began to fade from his eyes. He was nothing. “It's the end for him.”

Bucky twisted his fingers with a smirk, your pussy quivering as you were ready to fall apart. “Come while he takes his last breath. Let go. Let it all go.”

Your vision swam as you did as he commanded, your entire body throbbing with pleasure. You felt the air leave Brock's lungs as bliss flooded you, Bucky's groan obscene as he brought his mout back to lick up your essence. Steve held onto you as you lost yourself, every part of you inside and out owned by their touch.

In that moment, you were invincible.

“Good fucking girl,” Bucky said, his mouth and chin wet from your release as he took his fingers out and lowered your shaky limb from his shoulder. “Damn. I thought he'd last a little longer. I wanted to shove his taser rod up his ass.”

“You still can,” Steve said, kissing your shoulder. “You did so well, sweetheart. You okay?”

The praise from both of them made you preen as you looked at the surrounding carnage, slowly coming down from your high. “I'm better than okay,” you exhaled, reaching out with your foot to nudge Brock's body, relief hitting you square in the chest when he didn’t move. Your tormentor was dead. And you wouldn't shed a single tear for him. “He's gone. He's really gone.”

“He is. And we're free, thanks to you, doll,” Bucky spoke, licking his fingers clean before he stroked himself, a cool shade of blue flickering from his red eyes. “Our mate.”

I'm theirs and they're mine.

And as their mate, you had to thank them. Take care of them. Worship their hard and aching cocks the way you were made to.

“Fuck me,” you breathed.

“With pleasure,” Steve smiled, putting you on your hands and knees before he sank down behind you. He shoved his thick cock inside you with no warning, the head of it practically kissing your cervix as you screamed. “This is just the beginning. We have more lives to destroy when we’re done fucking you. For now.”

Bucky tapped his cock against your cheek affectionately before he pushed inside your eager mouth. “Alexander Pierce. Jasper Sitwell. Everyone. We'll kill them all,” he promised, snapping his hips in time with Steve as you moaned, letting them use you like a ragdoll between them. But you didn't feel used in the slightest.

You felt complete.

“You're free,” Steve grunted, bringing his palm down on your ass with a sharp slap. “We're free.”

He was right. You were finally free from the shackles Hydra tried to put on you. And you couldn't wait for the carnage the three of you would continue to spread, once you could form a coherent thought. All you wanted for now was for them to paint every hole of yours until there wasn’t a drop left.

Bucky's head fell back with an excited moan, as if he read your mind. “And we have so much time to make up for. So take our cocks and let us fill your holes before we burn this place to the ground.”

That was a mission you were more than happy to complete.

So, THAT happened and I'm not sorry. Hehe. Love and thanks for reading! 🧡

Masterlist ⚓ Stucky Masterlist ⚓ Ko-Fi

#navybrat writes #navy's trick or treat nonsense #bucky barnes x reader #steve rogers x reader #bucky barnes x female reader #steve rogers x female reader #bucky barnes x you #steve rogers x you #bucky barnes x y/n #steve rogers x y/n #demon!bucky barnes x reader #demon!steve rogers x reader #incubus!bucky barnes x reader #incubus!steve rogers x reader #stucky x reader #bucky barnes x reader x steve rogers #bucky barnes #steve rogers #demon!bucky barnes #demon!steve rogers #incubus!bucky barnes #incubus!steve rogers #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fan fiction #bucky barnes fic #bucky barnes fanfic #steve rogers fanfiction #steve rogers imagine

[your-nanas-house]

erm methinks the reader snaps and k words someone and jonathan finds it hot and just nasty smut after the fact like these ppl are freaks!

Love it, baby!!! 💓

Not so innocent after all

◇ Pairing: Psychiatrist!Jonathan Crane x patient fem!Reader

◇ Warnings: smut, dry humping, Jonathan being a sick perv, bad writing, DUB-CON, him rubbing Y/n's clit, murder, asylum, bad guards, innocent reader

◇ Summary: Jonathan's favorite patient acts out and he finds it quite arousing.

◇ Note: Sorry for the mistakes and the English.

Jonathan was busy in his office, focused on some papers he had to fill out about his patients when fast and violent knocks were heard from his door, which flew open before hitting the wall behind it creating even more noise.

"Dr. Crane, a patient of yours is misbehaving" a guard quickly informed him, a bit allarmed, thing that Jonathan didn't understand at all since this things happened normally in the asylum— that's why his focus remained on the sheets, his voice calm and not really interested

"Really now?" He asked, looking at the guard just when he shared the number of the patient.

It sounded pretty weird for him, since the patient associated with that number was a young woman that he started to work with nearly 2 years ago and who was one of the most calm and quiet inmates that he ever met.

Jonathan put the notebook down, thinking on alll the possibilities that could have made his favourite patient act up.

It hadn't happened not even once in all the years she'd been locked up there.

"Where is she?" Joanthan asked the guards sounding slight concern

"They are in the cafeteria" one of the guards quickly replied, accepting to escort him there together with his colleague.

As soon as they arrived they quickly rushed inside to help the other guards to try to stop her from attacking the almost death inmate on the floor— but when Jonathan indicated them to move away with his hands they all made some space for him so that he could intervene.

Crane hurried after taking mental notes of her behaviour.

His voice was calm as he spoke and approached his patient

"Hey, hey, hey....Y/n" he whispered, grabbing in a quick motion the patient’s arms, pulling them away from the inmate with ease, blocking them behind her back.

She was panting heavily, her body kept trying to squirm away from the grip as if she was a caged animal— Jonathan kept her there though, flat against the cold floor as he whispered thing in a calming way, till she started to relax.

Her whole body got still, her breath became slower when Jonathan's hand moved to her hair to stroke it softly, his hips pressing flat against her ass providing little friction to his painful boner which he weirdly got as soon as he saw her kill that man.

"Sshh, that's a good girl" Jonathan whispered, letting her slowly go when he noticed that she was fully calm

"I bring you to you room, come" he helped her up and started to walk out with the guards, followed by Y/n who was walking cutely, her head low as her hand grabbed Jonathan's.

As soon as they reached the cell, Dr. Crane made sure that they would have been alone, no guards, no inmates or anyone else— just him and her.

This way he could let out the urges he was keeping inside without any problems.

His icy stare remained on Y/n as he waved elegantly his hand towards the three guards that escorted them, looking at them briefly just to be able to manipulate and convince them that nothing was wrong and he could be trusted alone with Y/n, he wouldn't be in any danger— after all he knew better than anyone else his own patients.

It didn't took much to make the guards leave, but Jonathan waited a couple of minutes to make sure that they were really alone, before entering the cell and closing carefully the iron door behind him.

Y/n was giving him her back, since she was trying to go back to her comfort zone— thing that became quite difficult as soon as she felt the manly hand of her psychiatrist cover her mouth, his slender fingers pressing painfully against the soft skin of her cheeks.

Her body completely froze in shock and worry, she didn't dare to fight or say anything since all the bells that should have rang in her head to alert her of danger weren't working since she started to take the meds that Jonathan prescribed her.

Deep down Y/n knew that it was wrong, even if it felt nice— even if the smoothing and low voice of Dr. Crane kept whispering in her ear that everything was alright, that she was safe with him and that she could relax— she really could relax since it felt so good.

His pale slender fingers rubbing against her clothed clint like she imagined many times before, in the dark of her cell as she dry humped her own pillow like the naughty and needy girl that she was— she could also feel his now bare cock rubbing against her from behind.

Y/n, now laying down on her bed, was resting her head on her arms as Jonathan lowered in a quick motion her Arkham asylum uniform pants, to reveal her innocent white panties to him.

His finger didn't stopped rubbing against her tiny nerve, not even when he pulled slightly up her underwear to show more of her round firm ass so that he could now rest his leaking and rock hard cock between her cheeks— humping her like an animal in heat.

"Such a good girl, darling" Dr. Crane praised, moving his hand inside her panties to check her wetness like the perv he was being, spreading it back up on her clit to rub tiny circles in a faster pace— his hips still moving fast as he tried to reach his own peak while he bit his bottom lip, hearing the small noises she was making under him.

It didn't take him much, a couple of thrusts and he was shooting his load, with a low moan and small praises, all over her back and ass, wetting her cute panties with his seed.

Fuck, he needed her to act out more often, he thought.

Taglist:

@gabile18 , @mrsfullbuster500 , @rex-ray , @elizamalfoyy, @eovjjj, @wife-of-magic-monkeys , @jeremiah-va1eska , @gothamchic16, @rabbiteggz , @dieg0brandos-wife , @rottenecstasy , @lazyexcuse , @teh-vampire-bunny , @lobotomy-lover, @slasher-smasher, @sleepycreativewriter , @mrkdvidal1989

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[star-suh]

🎃SCREAM (my name)🎃

choi san x male reader

cw: college au, movie au(?), killer top san, y/n is trapped in a hole in the wall, dub-con, rimjob, degradation, spanking, creampie, breaking the 4th wall(?).

an: i was thinking about a way to porn-ify the scream movie then i remembered that scene from scary movie with the girl in the garage 😭 and i merge it with that stuck in the wall trope and boom this fic was born lmao. 

—

despite the murders that have recently occurred, the students of the kq university decide to have a party just because why not?.

“how the fuck are they so happy dancing and getting high on a party when there's a literal murderer on the campus?” wondered y/n in a low voice.

“the real question is how the fuck are you complaining about it while literally being in the party drinking a cup of vodka with fruit juice?” seonghwa stated.

“i don't know dude, slasher movie logic i guess?” he spoke while drinking the remaining liquid on his cup, “gonna go for more” he then walks away while seonghwa starts rubbing himself on someone.

“umm excuse me.. uh, isn't there more of this?” y/n signals the bowl that was filled with vodka before. “yes there are more but… it's in the basement. if you want more go down there and take all you want dude” the man pats y/n's shoulder and walks away. “are you fucking kidding me? this is giving scream for fuck's sake i'm gonna die” he screams internally, preparing to go and seek more of that delicious cocktail of vodka with fruits.

with each step down the stairs y/n plans a ton of ways to escape if the murderer happens to be there.. “helloo?. umm is someone down there?” his voice echoes in the dark room and not a single response “where is the light switch” he spoke while he illuminates the place with the flashlight of his cell phone.

finally he found the light switch and turn on the lights, showing that there was no one in there “i should stop being so paranoid”. y/n opens the refrigerator taking out the cans of his favorite liquor, he was entertained reading the flavors of each can that he didn't notice the basement door being closed by someone.

"what do we have here?" a deep and seductive voice echoes in y/n's ears, he turns around quickly, dropping all the cans. there he was, face to face with the masked killer. “i fucking knew it” he whispered grabbing all the cans and throwing them at the killer. “leave me alone you psycho, i haven't done anything bad in my life” y/n begs for his life as he looks for a way out. 

he suddenly remembers that this was mingi's house and there was a hole in one of the walls that they used to when they were in high school to sneak into the basement and drink mingi's father's liquor “good times” he murmurs running towards the hole. 

“where is it” he shouts scattering the objects around trying to find the hole, “why is he doing nothing” anxious, y/n pushed a large shelf finally found his way to salvation "see you in hell motherfucker" giving the middle finger to the murderer and immediately going through the hole squirming around. everything looked so good until y/n got trapped, only half of his body made it through the hole. “shit this can't be happening. fuck!... please don't harm me please” his prayers being silenced by the loud music of the party above.

he was already preparing to die when he felt a hand groping his ass "what the hell? don't touch me pervert". he began to discard y/n's pants and underwear, "perverted son of a bitch" could be heard on the other side of the wall, y/n started to move his legs trying to kick the murderer but the only thing he received was a hard spank that made his eyes water. 

the masked murderer started to rub his big bulge between y/n's ass cheeks, on the other side of the wall the guy was biting his lower lip so the other man can't hear his moans. “i shouldn't have put the cell phone in my pants pocke—hngh” suddenly he felt something wet on his rim making his eyes widen and his face turn red. on the other side the masked man was inserting his wet tongue in and out “what a tasty hole. gonna eat it until it's all gaping and gushy with my saliva”.

y/n's legs were trembling, the pleasure was immense something he haven't feel in months, “so goodd~”...

the ring of muscles was dripping with saliva “i can't get enough of this” says the masked pervert still eating y/n's ass out. on the other side y/n was a blushing, panting mess with hooded eyes and drool coming out of the corners of his mouth “please stop, i can't take it anymore..” 

“nuh-uh dude we are halfway done” the man spoke, spanking the ass 10 times, 5 to each ass cheek. he pulls out his cock and starts slapping it in the already wet hole making sinful noises that he loves to hear, watching how much pre-cum y/n's cock is leaking he puts his big cock under y/n's tip and smear it around  his own to use it as lube “you tell me to stop but you're body says otherwise.. look how much you're leaking slutty boy” he says that while shaking y/n's hard cock.

he slowly introduced his big dick, that delicious burning sensation of the stretch making y/n moan loudly lowkey enjoying it “so big~”.

“you're clenching so hard boy, do you love my cock that much?.just say you're my plaything and i give you more of this”. “no” cockdrunk y/n managed to say “i'm no one's..”. another hard spank landed on his ass “you're being a bad boy, i think you need to be punished”. the taller grabbed him by the legs locking them in his waist and started to rail the boy into oblivion, the thrusts were so hard producing a notorious recoil on y/n's ass.

“i'm gonna wreck you up, you hear me?. i'm gonna drenched you with my cum and pump you full like the useless cumdump you are”.

“yes, just use me to please your big cock i'm just a hole for you~” his fear completely gone and now being replaced by just horny thoughts of being fucked by that big dick.

wet, gushy sounds echoing throughout the basement while moans were doing the same on the other side of the wall, “look how much you're clenching on me, what a desperate whore”. the masked man feeling that sensation on his stomach started to stroke y/n's cock “let's cum together”, being stimulated by both sides it only made y/n cum quickly muttering a small “sorry” as he caught his breath. “bad boy, i told you to cum together with me” he does a last hard thrust and then pulls out his cock to jerk himself off on top of y/n's ruined hole.

lots of thick gooey sperm coming out of the masked man's tip, creaming y/n's hole “fuck you make me cum so much.. you're a really good milker” he expressed collecting all the cum with the tip of his cock and then inserting it into the dirty hole as deep as he can “would love if we repeat this again soon” the masked man snickers, while on the other side of the wall y/n fell asleep.

the next morning y/n woke up laying on the basement floor, the masked killer pulled him out of the hole without him realizing it, "what the hell happened last night" the boy wondered while touching his head because of the hangover he was feeling. he stood up and walked towards the basement door to get out of there without noticing the wet patch forming on the back of his pants. 

#san x male reader #choi san x male reader #choi san x male reader smut #san x male reader smut #ateez x male reader #ateez x male reader smut #male reader #kpop x male reader #kpop x male reader smut #smut #male reader smut #ateez smut

[wint3r-h3art]

Heart of the Ocean

Summary: Ku'ku'lkán musing thoughts after he returned from the surface.

Word count: 1.2K

Warning: Brief smut in the beginning. Mostly just Namor being a worryward. Romance undertone.

18+ ONLY | MINORS DNI

A/N: just some writing exercise with the need to write soft Namor being a loving and protected partner. I enjoyed writing the little blurb, and I do hope you do too. If you enjoyed it, comment and reblog mean a lot. 

*** Do not copy, repost, or translate my works anywhere else !!

“In yakunaj, [my love]” he whispered into your ears as his powerful hips surged forward, bringing you with him as he was lodged deep inside you. 

Your nails dug into his powerful back, your eyes fluttered, and your lips trembled as your body moved with his. Your legs shook slightly. They were sore and ache from what felt like hours since your king returned from the surface. 

Your body warmed and flushed beneath him. Sticky, slick fluid leaked out where your body joined with his–a reminder of how many time he had already made you come, yet it was never enough. Every movement he made brought desirously aches and burns with him. You couldn’t ask for more.

You were his offering–a gift from an unconventional circumstance. He had made it clear from the beginning that he had no desire to force you to stay with him. Namora would have taken you under her wings if you wished, but what he didn’t know was that you volunteered to be his offering in the first place. 

Your people were dying, and the elder made a decision to gift  Ku'ku'lkán himself an offering to appease him, and perhaps offer mercy to your people. You volunteered of course. You expected the Feathered Serpent God to spirit you away to his realm–perhaps devoured you, but what you didn’t expect was to be whisked away by the handsome, bronze skin man, adorning in gold and jade, offering you his hand and taking you away instead.

He spoke in his native tongue again, but you were too cockdrunk to understand what he was saying as your rapture drew near. There was an urgency to his lovemaking. It was primal and hard–almost exhilarating by the way he left you breathless and sore.

Your wall began to flutter, and Ku'ku'lkán’s movement became erratic as he rutted into you hard and so forceful that if he wasn't holding onto your hips, you could have easily skitted across his massive bed. He grunted, pumping himself into you a couple of more times before your body shook and convulsed beneath him, even then, your king was still moving inside you, driving himself so hard that you felt like you were being split into.

Then a grunt left his lips as his movement stopped already. His nails dug into your skin as his muscles strained and corded. A rush of the familiar warmness coated your inside. And your king remained where he was. His perfect full lips pulled back in a strained expression, revealing his pearly white teeth while he pumped the last remnant of his release into your womb.

It felt like ages before he finally pulled himself back. Your body shook slightly when you felt his cum dripping down your thigh and onto his bed. He watched you still in a daze from his handy work. A smirk curved at the edge of his lips. 

“Ma'ach in túukulkech [I miss you]”, he said softly before placing the softest kiss on your lips, his thumb stroking your swollen stomach till you shivered. His voice was like a gentle tremor of the earth, each word rolled off his tongue, warming you like late summer air. There was something about the gentleness he often shows behind the closed door. Out there to his people, he was the living God–their fearless leader. To you, he’s your king, your paramour.

You laid there, exhausted, spent in the most perfect way. Every cell in your body buzzed and hummed as your body was enveloped in the warmness that is the afterglow. Your king molded his body into yours, pulling your body into his until his larger form covered yours.

The smell of sweat and his masculine scent lingered and permeated–a familiar of his presence. His breathing was soft and steady as you both laid there, his palm still laid on your stomach.

“Ma'alobech? [Are you well?]”

You nodded and you feel the king nuzzle into you, burying his face into the back of your neck. His breath tickled your skin. You could feel his anxiety practically seeping out of his skin as you both laid there. Even if this wasn’t your first pregnancy, Ku'ku'lkán had always been worried about your well-being. You weren’t built like his people and the risk of carrying a child was always far greater for a surface dweller. 

“Ma' a preocupes, in yakunaj. Ma'alo'ob aniken [ Do not worry, my love. I am fine.]”

But he couldn’t relax despite your soothing words. The worry had always been there, eating away at the back of his mind, gnawing at him constantly. He was so used to having solutions to everything, but for the second time, you managed to render him hopeless as the child inside your womb grows. 

His thought was quickly disrupted when you turned to face him. You reached out to touch him first, placing your palm over his chest, feeling the way his heart was beating. Ku'ku'lkán watched you. Devotion filled his gaze, soften those hard brown eyes and soften them like the first drop of rain touched upon the parched earth. Somehow he looked at you like you were the sky itself. 

“Why are you looking at me like that?” you asked in your native tongue, unaware of the kind of worry that was plaguing his mind. You were still learning his language, struggling to understand here and there, but your king has been kind and patient, slowly teaching you words and phrases so you can communicate with him better. Certain words were easier to learn than others, of course, especially the ones that were reserved for you and him in the privacy of his chamber.

“Like what, my love?”

“I do not know, but you look troubled. Tell me, Ku'ku'lkán, what’s trouble you?”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he stared ahead. His strong arms draped over your body. He allowed his hand to linger at the swell of your behind, tracing left to right as if it was to ease his anxious mind.

“Ma' le ba'al, in yakunaj. Ko'ox weenel [It’s nothing, my love. Let’s go to sleep]” 

You opened your mouth to ask him more, but your king leaned in and covered your mouth with his, swallowing all your worries into a toe-curling kiss. He said no more after that as he stroked your back and soothed you until you were asleep.

He of course was awake, staring up into nothing. Occasionally he would let his fingers trace your skin–physical proof that you were in fact alive and breathing. A smile quirked at the corner of his lips by the way you were softly snoring beside him. For that brief moment, he felt the warmth of joy spread in his heart, and whatever worry plagued his heart dissipated. 

For a creature so small, you were the heart of his ocean.

#namor x reader #namor x you #namor imagine #namor smut #namor fanfiction #namor of talokan #namor x y/n #mcu namor

[yeyinde]

I need to be railed by price as the team either walks past or is right next door. So upset he's fictional lmao

honestly, same. 

this got away from me a bit, so sorry about that!

warnings: smut, implied near-death experiences, voyeurism, and (??) exhibitionism

For being stationed out in the middle of Siberia, snowed into some long-forgotten gulag on the fringes of the great, inescapable arctic nothingness, the air you breathe has never been hotter. 

Balmy heat pulses, throbbing in tandem with each harsh thud of your heart as it snaps like a rubber band against your chest. 

It leaks in from the old pellet stove that Gaz managed to get working—somewhat—but the stifling heat that simmers around you, clinging your sweat-slicked skin has less to do with fire, and everything to do with the way your captain fills your cunt until you ache. 

"Fuck," he rasps, low and grating, words muffled into the flesh of your neck, when he presses the flat of his teeth. "So wet for me, love. So fucking tight—" 

All you can do is dig your nails into his flexing biceps, legs locked around his waist, heels clinging together at the base of his spine, as he fucks you senseless in the middle of a storm. 

(And with your teammates beyond the thin wisp of a wall.)

You're supposed to be quiet. 

Those are the rules you accepted when he first parted the folds of your pretty cunt with his middle and index finger, and pressed his nose against your throbbing clit, eyes sparking with firebrands when he gazed up at you. 

Quiet—because everyone is gathered in the room beside yours, and no one knows that your captain presses the head of his cock against this soft, fleshy place behind your belly button until you see Nirvana painted behind your eyelids like he's trying to fuck you stupid. To batter all logic out of your soft, sensitive head until only he, and the way he fits inside of you, remain. 

(And sometimes, you think he is.)

Quiet. Quiet. And yet—

They can all hear you, surely. You're not subtle, and you're not silent, despite the growls in your ears to keep it down, now, love, don't want them all to hear you getting fucked by your captain, do you? Filling your tight pussy with my cock—

How can you be when he pulled you into the empty, rotting cell with a fire in his gaze, and his hands rough on your skin, and said I need to feel you, love. I need to be inside of you. Need to keep you warm.

You try to stay quiet. Try to stifle the moans that spill from your lips with each blunt, brutal thrust of his cock slamming against the plug of your womb. It feels as if he was trying to wrench it open, trying to fit inside the only space left that you haven't felt him, that you hadn't taken him in. And maybe he is. Maybe, this is him trying to split you apart at the seams until you unravel for him; unspooled and raw, and all his, and—

It edges into pain, into hurt and anguish, but the pleasure numbs you into a babbling mess of fuck, captain, it feels so good, please please please—

His fat cock splits you apart until you're a babbling mess drooling into the matted, grimy mattress below, chanting nothing but his name amid the hymnals of pleasure that slip out, unmuffled, and loud. 

Stupid. Stupid. 

These sparse walls are barely thick enough to stifle a sniffle let alone the way you stutter over his name—P–Pr–i–ahhh—P–Pri–ce—with each sharp thrust of his cock battering your bruised, gummy walls. 

He doesn't even try to keep you quiet. Seems, in fact, to fuck you harder, aiming for whichever spot he hit inside of you that made you howl the loudest. Like it's a game. Like he wants them to hear. 

And you get it. You get why he's so broken, so stripped, and bare, and fucking you when he knows everyone can hear you, can hear the slick way your cunt opens for his cock; the fleshy slaps of his heavy sack hitting your ass with each deep, hard thrust. The ragged pants broken by your barely stifled moans, or his sharp, smoking grunts. 

You get it. You do—

A near miss. A wayward shot. 

Soap says you should be resting, that you should be recuperating until you all have to move out, have to abandon this safe haven in the middle of the frigid, white wasteland where nothing but withering black trees grow in sparse thickets and the temperature outside drops low enough to freeze the grey matter in your brain within seconds. 

It's scary. Daunting. 

But nothing at all compared to the anguish in his voice when he saw you in shades of blue, in red. Lifeless, and cold. So, so cold. 

It had taken them pushing you as close to the firepit as possible to bring some life back into your cheeks, and this—

This is all he knows how to do to keep you warm, to keep you from turning the same garish shade of deathly white, grey, as the world outside of these mouldering walls while you're stuck in a place that leaches it from your marrow; rapacious for heat in your body.

He fucks you like he's already lost you. Like you're already blue and grey and—

"Never again," he spits, words an angry snarl in your ear. "Never again—"

So, you let him take. Let him take, and take, and take because he never does. Never for himself. 

You offer yourself up to him—however he needs it—and try to stay within the margins of the rules despite the fact that you can feel him bludgeoning into you, further and further until you can feel him in your sternum. Until you can taste him in your throat. Until your lungs are full of sweat and blood and hickory and smoke, and—

"Fuck—"

You choke on the thick press of fingers when he slips them into your mouth, barking out a sharp bite when he pushes his other hand under the swell of your ass to glue your hips together. Closer, closer, but not enough for him despite the stars that erupt behind your eyelids, the too full too much feeling of him grinding against your bruised, battered walls, carving out a place inside of you just for him. 

"Gotta keep you warm," he hisses, pressing his damp chest to yours until the scant air is squeezed from your collapsing lungs, and all you can taste, and see, and feel is the graze of his coarse hair over your sensitive flesh when he smothers you under his bulk. "Gotta warm you up—"

They can all hear you. All of them. 

And maybe, maybe it's the delirium. The fever. The injury. The ever-present threat of that creeping white death that ghosts along the gaps in the doors, searching for a way in to claim the one that got away, snatched from the brink of icy death.

It must be. It has to be. 

But you think you can hear them, too. Under the heaving, desperate gasps in your ear, the broken commands uttered for you to stay quiet, and be good, and stay with him, stay with him, always, always, always, and the slap of his skin branding yours, you can hear it. Low murmurs. Movement. 

Gaz sucks in a breath when Price mutters look'it y'takin' me so fuckin' good; needy little cunt won't let g'of me. 

Soap groans low when you whimper around the thick, nicotine-stained fingers, nearly gagging, choking when he presses them to the back of your throat. 

You hear Ghost shift, the scratch of his denim sliding against the cracked cement when he moves from his spot when you moan low, and broken, and beg for it in a series of please please please pleasepleaseplea—that stick together each time he slides in deep. 

The noises from the other room all react to each whimper, moan, mewl, gasp that Price pulls from the depths of your chest as his cock splits you apart until your cunt is full of nothing but him. Until your head is heavy with pleasure, with the explosive chemical slurry of sex and tobacco and almost dying, and him, him—

It's maddening. Impossible.

It has to be in your head. It has to be because the idea, the absurd idea of it all is enough to make you tremble, to make the molten knot in your belly coil, and coil, and—

Price drops his sweat-slicked forehead to your temple, lips brushing against your ear. 

"Puttin' on a nice li'show for them, love. Almost makes me think you want them to hear," he murmurs, words rasped out in a whisper. Just for you. Just for you. "I must not be enough to keep y'warm, then. Must need some extra body heat, mm?"

(You hear Soap grunt, the noise a tucked plea of Captain, and of something that sounds like a broken amalgamation of your name, and fuck, and please, and—

And all at once, the rules break. Shatter.)

#mehhh #wrote this while drinking rye on the deck #suffice to say am a little tipsy #dunnoooo if this makes any sense #captain john price x reader #john price x reader #captain john price x fem reader

[ailithnight]

A fic based on this prompt by @chaoswarfare that I had originally put in the reblogs, but decided to move to its own post since I've got some ideas to continue it. No promises on this ever being a completed fic, but I'll try.

A King in Arkham

Listless eyes trace the cracks in the ceiling; their owner blinking slowly from his place, lying nearly motionless on a thin mattress supported by a metal shelf held to the wall by thick black chains. His face is blank, not sad nor angry nor despairing like so many others in this cold and lonesome place. No, his expression is empty, as though there is simply nothing to feel.

Bruises and scratches and even a couple very deep cuts litter a small body. Were anyone watching, they'd see a new one appear as if by magic across a gaunt cheek. Even as blood begins weeping from the slash, not a single emotion flits across the face. Not even a flinch.

Tomorrow, doctors will assume the patient cut himself. They will search his cell, again, and find no weapon. They will search his body and find not so much as a fingernail capable of creating the mark. They will check the security feed and find, as always, that the moment of injury glitches; one second no cut, the next fresh blood. They will try to force the patient to admit self harm, but he will remain silent.

When the door to his cell swings open with a buzz and a clang, echoed by every other cell in the building, the blank faced boy with dull eyes doesn't move. It's the 6th time this month, and the 13th since arriving 3 months ago.

When the sounds of screams and rioting grate on sensitive ears, he merely sighs, the first hint of feeling flashing across his face in the form of a minute second of frustration before blankness returns. When a pair of escaping patients rush past, one stopping to ask if he's coming, he remains unresponsive.

"Leave him! Kid never tries to escape. He's to far gone."

The kid in question feels his eyebrow twitch. He's not 'gone' anywhere, thank you very much. There's just no point. Nowhere to go. No one to help him; to understand that he's not crazy, just haunted. At least, no one who won't turn him into a monster. A horrible, world destroying, viscious monster.

Besides, Arkham's not too bad. At least it isn't a GIW lab. And his rogues have even started showing up less and less since he was sent here! Though maybe that has less to do with Arkham or Gotham and more to do with the kid's utter refusal to even defend himself.

"Now come on before Bats start showing up and put this place on lockdown."

A black form with a red head drops from above, just barely within the kid's peripheral vision. A brief moment of recognition and even something adjacent to interest flickers in blue eyes.

"Bats like me, perchance?"

.

Red Hood was assisting containment with an Arkham breakout. There had been a lot of them in the last few months and Batman was getting grey hairs trying to figure out why. No one in particular was even trying to break out. No one could be pinned for the inciting incident. Just randomly, at any point in the day, the automatic locks would spazz out and everyone would be released.

So the big bad Bat had called all hands on deck, requesting at least one vigilante be at or near Arkham at all times, hoping to at least keep most of the big fish in their cages while they tried to figure out what the hell was going on. And Jason had graciously agreed to help. So here he was, at 3am on a Saturday morning; assisting guards in keep inmates corralled; keeping any eye out for any maximum security escapees.

With none spotted so far, and the people below him literally admitting that they're giving up hope when the Bats arrive, Jason figured he might as well see if a bit of scare tactic will convince them to go back to bed willingly.

"Bats like me, perchance?" The would be escapees in front of him startle and whip around.

"Red Hood?"

"The one and only." Jason shifts to not so subtlely place a hand on his weapons. "Now why don't you 2 just go on back to your rooms and we can forget this little infraction. I won't even tell the guards to write up a discipline slip." The two inmates eye him, then his guns, then each other warily. Finally, they both raise their hands in surrender and begin walking back to their cells.

Jason permits himself a quiet chuckle, much to low to be picked up by the modulator. As he turns back to grapple up to his bird's eye view in the rafters, his eyes catch sight of the inmate who apparently doesn't try to escape. For just a moment, green swamps his vision as Red Hood registers the sight in front of him.

He almost steps in to the cell before a harsh buzz sounds and cell doors clang shut again. An intercom crackles to life announcing the effective lockdown, instructing guards to begin escorting patients back to their cells, cataloging each attempted escapee for future disciplinary measures.

Batman's voice sounds out over comms.

Not a single inmate made it past the main gate. Good job Hood.

Jason seethes for moment longer in front of the cell before biting out his question on the main channel.

What the hell is a kid doing in Arkham!?

A strangled sound makes it through the feed and Nightwing responds, strained.

What?

A KID! Can't be older than 15. In cell... 26B. Looking rather roughed up, I might add. Since why does Arkham even accept minors?

Oracle responds.

Pulling records right now.

Jason eyes the kid, who seems to be entirely unfazed by Red Hood discussing his imprisonment 8 feet away from him. Actually, unfazed is the wrong word. Apathetic is better. Entirely emotionless. Green threatens Jason's vision again as he ponders the potential reasons for the look of resigned desolation on a face so young.

Looks like he was transferred over from a psych ward in Illinois 3 months ago. Ward of the State. File says self-destructive behavior. Apparently he picks up unexplainable injuries and claims ghosts gave them to him.

That still doesn't explain why they sent him to Arkham!

Batman's voice filters back in.

Hood, pull out.

Jason has to force himself to keep his voice down.

WHAT!? I'M NOT LEAVING A KID HERE!

It's almost 4am. Red Robin is on route to relieve you.

I AM NOT LEAVING A 15 YEAR OLD IN ARKHAM!

We will be investigating this further.

15! YOU KNOW, THE SAME AGE I WAS WHEN YOU LET ME DIE IN THAT FUCKING WAREHOUSE.

Jason almost regrets the statement as he here's Dick's stuttered breath. But it seems the kid might have heard him and something about the statement seems to catch his attention.

He actually turns his head to look quizzically at Jason. The expression only lasts a couple seconds before slipping back into blank neutrality as he turns back to the ceiling.

Batman's voice grinds in his ears, an edge in his tone telling Jason that if he doesn't listen, the Bat himself will come pull Jason out.

Hood, his transfer coincides with the start of these break outs. He may be involved. We will be investigating this further, very thoroughly. If he's clean, we will be getting him out of there. But for now I need you to pull out. File your report.

The tone softens.

And get some rest.

#dp x dc #Danny Phantom in Arkham Asylum #A King in Arkham #my writing #I guess I should start a tagslist #I'll try to pull some from the original post #But it would be easiest if y'all just drop tag requests in the comments

[lunarw0rks]

HEYYY just wondering if I can do a request of an experimented reader? (They can be any animal or anything)

❀*ੈ✩‧₊˚ Patient 001 // 141 Mini Drabbles

Warning(s): FailedExperiment!reader, gn!reader, medical procedures, drugging mention, kidnapping, blood, injury, death, animal testing mention, angst, hurt/comfort, no use of y/n Word Count: 2.6k ꒦꒷ MAIN MASTERLIST ꒷꒦ 141 MASTERLIST // have a request? ˗ˏˋ ASK BOX ˎˊ˗

A/N: I hope this isn't too dark for what the anon requested. If it is, I apologize. I've been interested in this plot line for a bit, and wanted to write something for it!

SYNOPSIS; You're a failed scientific experiment. Once a civilian, now a half-human that had gone through hell. Your other half, now a mutated creature.

To no longer be human would be a blessing. But that part of you stayed, partially. Still terrorized from the experiments, the tests, the documentation of your transformation.

Then came the day you were found.

MISSION BRIEFING; Their orders were simple.

Evacuate innocent technicians — and most importantly — find the location of the catastrophic chemical component, before it ends up in the wrong hands.

What was behind the doors, they'd certainly never forget.

Ghost

His rifle remained raised in front of him as he swept each room. It was obvious the enemy knew they were coming. All he'd found so far were empty sterile spaces, understimulating exam rooms, or numbing cubicles filled to the brim with charts.

Until he heard it.

A sickening screech, like that of a person possessed by a demon. Echoing off the tile walls, much too loud for the lung capacity of a human - and in deep anguish.

Simon's heart stopped when he pushed through the double doors, seeing a huddled figure left behind bars. Not a scientist left behind. Not a prisoner of war. Something.

The glow of your eyes reflected off the blinding white fluorescents, irises matching that of crimson. Your flesh, once human-like, is now sunken and riddled with healed slashes. Most of them self-inflicted, from when you thrashed against your restraints.

When you saw the figure, looming and dormant, it reminded you of the scientists that spent hours observing your changes. How you shrieked when touched when something as small as a pin dropped. Every noise was heightened, making your ears ring painfully. Your hearing could track the sound of potential prey for miles. And your tender skin? Only soothed when you weren't lucid enough to remember the pokes and prods.

Every week, it was a new serum, a new component. Something they would give you to study its effects on your body. Whatever you were, it was a mystery. All you did know was that you craved the metallic taste of blood.

Similar to that of a hungry hound, or that of urban legends that hunt unsuspecting hikers. But you weren't cruel. You weren't a cold-blooded beast that wanted to rip their throats out. That's what kept you around so long.

Your empathy never subsided, like it was supposed to. Your feedings were only that of animal blood or the human samples they gave you in the hope that it would progress the experiment. It never did. It only left you in that cell longer; fearsome and isolated.

"Christ..." Simon muttered to himself, eyes wide. The figure approached the enclosure, his rifle lowered when he observed your fear. He wasn't holding a syringe, not a clipboard, not a video camera, not even a vile of blood for you to choke down. Your vermillion gaze inspected the man with uncertainty, who looked like that of a soldier.

Your fatigued limps crawled across the scuffed cement until you could use the bars to find your feet. Something you couldn't do when the scientists were monitoring you. After so long huddled on the ground or writhing on the cot, it was a relief, if that was possible anymore.

Despite his best judgment, his fingers reached through the bars until they found your fingers. "I'm not going to hurt you," he whispered, his British rasp ringing through your overly-sensitive ears. For the first time in months, you touched the warm flesh of a human hand, not an unempathetic gloved one.

It was a natural reaction to flinch; that primal side of you overshadowing the human one. But you still had the ability to find genuine empathy in his amber eyes. Your hand wrapped tightly around his through the gap in the bars, savoring the once-deprived human contact. "Do you remember your name?"

Price

Price took the riskiest route; the one he wouldn't dare send his team into head-first. The pathway that took him through each of the hidden laboratories — the one only countless hours of digging for intel made him aware of.

It was more chilling than he foresaw.

Rows of exam rooms, shelves of unknown components, countless cages of small animals. All that is expected in a covert scientific compound.

That is... until he stumbled upon a sealed room different from the others. One that could only be inhabited by a human being. He stared in each direction of the hallway, finding a keycard left on one of the bodies.

It was his duty to clear every room, no matter how disturbing the contents would be. Behind the plate glass room that resembled that of an enclosure. A small table and two chairs, a video camera, and most shockingly — the trembling figure in restraints on a thin foam mattress. One who has clearly been poked and prodded for months straight, littered with scars and an almost inhuman appearance.

The man approaching you wasn't a threat, but that didn't stop your body's natural reaction to hide. After months of enduring tests and experiments, being monitored like some sort of creature — it was hard to trust anyone. "My God... What have they done to you?" Price murmured as he approached the cot, fingers finding each tube and removing them one by one.

His expression was one of pity and disgust as his mind imagined all the awful things they put you and your body through. Countless months of research and injecting new components into you clearly didn't turn you into some monster.

You were frightened and in agony — still human underneath it all.

"Can you move your fingers for me? Your legs?" He asked softly, bent down next to your bed. Your shaky fingers finally gained some movement, after he had cut off the constant drip of sedatives. Next, you hesitantly untucked your legs, feeling your bare feet touch the icy tile for the first time in months. It was like learning how to walk all over again, except now you weren't the same you.

Your senses were heightened — smell, eyesight, hearing, and most of all touch. His palm found the small of your back as he led you to the door of your cell, using the keycard he swiped to unlock it from the inside.

As he led you through the corridors, he grabbed a spare lab coat off one of the racks, placing it over your shivering shoulders. No scrubs, no sweats, only a loose white gown. If he wasn't so focused on keeping his eyes peeled for hostiles, he would've given you his own jacket. The entire building had to be kept cool and they hadn't bothered to give you something warmer to wear.

He spoke into his radio, alerting the rest of his team as they combed through the rest of the compound. Right now, his priority was making sure you ended up somewhere safe tonight. "You're safe now, alright? Nobody will put their hands on you again."

Not a place with sterile white walls, a bed to sleep in with more than a thin foam pad, a place where your every move wasn't monitored. A place where the human part of you could feel safe again.

Soap

The power to the compound was cut off when Soap's team breached the tight security system. It was a faulty system — unlocking all the electronically sealed doors instead of the opposite. And the lights, instead of a blinding white, were dim and flickered repeatedly. Most likely the emergency ones.

Enough light to guide you through the corridors, but not enough for his trained eyes to be entirely sure of no threats.

He was using his instincts, his sensory training; all he had to rely on as he crept through the halls. Eerily silent halls. The only sound is the hum of all the technology littering this place and his boots hitting the smooth tile.

Eventually, he found one of the testing rooms; a place that is bound to have some chemical components stored.

Through the glass viewing window, he could see that this space was heavily used. Video cameras, viewing chairs, viles and IV bags stored on refrigerators shelves. Most chilling - the chair with restraints. The one you’d been bound to so many times, poked and prodded by medical tools.

The longer it went on, you felt it more. You weren’t lucky enough to go numb to the pain. It had the opposite effect. Every ache, every stab, every head-splitting migraine.

Soap’s brows knitted together in focus as he maintained his stealth, keeping his eyes peeled for any sign of actionable intel. Though this room was dimmer than the rest, with emergency lights even more faulty than the ones in the rest of the building. He had to squint to clear the space in front of him, which hindered the rest of his senses.

Perhaps that's the reason he didn't hear the enemy behind him, or why he got a few stabs into Johnny's abdomen before he managed to fight him off. He slumped against the wall of the lab, comms jammed and unintelligible. Soap had convinced himself this was it, the moment he began seeing double from blood loss.

This was your long-awaited opportunity to escape - the electronic lock on your room failed when the compound was breached. You glided down the corridors, eyes trained ahead of you. What would the world out there be like? Would you ever have a semi-normal life again? This wasn't something you just move on from.

A sharp pain in your abdomen made you wince. But it wasn't pain from a true injury; it was a phantom ache. Someone nearby was hurt — someone deserving of your help.

It was a heavy debate; make your escape now, leave the maimed individual to fend for themselves. But your empathy outweighed your selfishness. The faint distressed prayers got louder as you crept inside one of the testing rooms.

The figure, one of a soldier, clutching his stomach in the same spot you had just felt the pain. Soap's eyes could barely adjust to the person approaching him, only managing a mumble. From his perspective, it must've been terrifying. A gowned, sickly patient with shaky hands outstretched to him.

He made his best attempt to fight you — which wasn't much of a fight at all. You lifted the crimson-soaked tee, wincing as the phantom pain kicked into high gear. The closer you got to a person in pain, the more intensity there was. It was time to use your new abilities by choice. Not one of the scientist's papercuts, not a wound they intentionally inflicted on a lab animal.

Your hands hovered over his inflamed stab wounds, teeth gritted in focus as you knelt next to him. One moment, Soap was delirious from blood loss, sputtering out incomprehensible phrases. The next, the searing in his abdomen reduced to a mild ache.

Then a tickle. And then nothing except the warmth radiating off your fingertips. The stab wounds faded from his flesh right before his eyes.

You had taken away his pain; somehow, in some way.

For a moment, he imagined this was heaven. An angel of mercy escorting him to the high place, though he was always convinced he'd end up in the fiery one. When not blinded by pain, he could finally muster the ability to speak again. "Who are you?" He wanted to ask what you were, but the empathy bleeding from your eyes pulled at his heartstrings. Those eyes; cloudy on the irises. And your sickly features, now filled with more life after healing him.

You were much too drained to answer. It was your first time saving a human in such a critical condition. Healing drained every ounce of energy from you. Before you could answer, he rose to his feet, wrapping one of the stray quilts around your trembling shoulders. "Ye saved my life, it's the least I can do."

Gaz

The raid was by no means straightforward. Nonetheless, it was strange to Gaz how few intel pieces he found. A few files he skimmed, some compelling blueprints — but nothing actionable. Once again, the rules of engagement prevented him from pushing the bounds of the code he followed. Another catastrophe is around the corner with an aloof public, yet there's nothing he can do but follow orders.

But there was more to this facility than met his eyes. Kyle knew it, and his instinct was rarely wrong.

There was a rattle on one of the lower levels, like that of a chair scraping against the floor. A faint scream. Then silence. No gunshots, no explosions, no enemies making callouts, not even his comms alerting him to check that level. It was obvious he was the only one who heard it.

He kept his sidearm raised ahead of him, eyes dancing around the motionless halls of the place. Whatever it was, he was going to find it; with or without following orders. "Anybody down here?" Gaz's own voice echoed off the walls. Still, no sound followed, not while he crept down the flight of stairs. Down the hall, he swept every room, finding nothing and no one once again.

Get out of there, Garrick. There's nothing here.

Price's comm almost swayed him — almost made his shaking hand that was hovering over the last door knob lower. Then he heard another clatter inside the room, one he couldn't ignore, despite his Captain's firm orders to evac.

He could take a serious hit for this, he knew that.

It wouldn't be his first time pushing the limits. Every time he did, he saved someone or something. If he didn't do that this time; he wasn't sure he could handle that weighing on his conscience.

It wasn't an enemy, he would've attacked the Sergeant's weak points by now. Kyle opened the door labeled Observation — his last hope of making this treacherous move worth it. Another shuffle sounded from inside. "If you're in here, show yourself!" The door creaked open as his sidearm remained at the ready, though it quickly dropped to his side when he caught a glimpse of the gruesome scene.

You curled into a ball and let out gasps and whimpers. Around you, a blood trail led up to the body of one of the technicians. It was a spur-of-the-moment decision; you heard the shots, and his hands were on you. You acted on mere impulse, which seemed to be more common after all the experimentations.

Gaz felt like he had dry-swallowed a big pill. You weren't a hostile, not even a scientist. You were some form of maltreated lab rat — one that had finally snapped and didn't know what to do with themselves.

You raised your head from your hands, showing him your face wrinkled with both fright and shock. An obvious adrenaline high, from what he was seeing. Kyle held out a hand, holstering his weapon as he approached slowly. "I'm here to help, alright?" He spoke cautiously, kneeling beside you to meet your crouched level. His hand found your forearm, tracing a hand over the number tattooed on your skin.

The thought was sickening — a human being meddled with, imprisoned in this place for testing. His instincts were proven right again, yet another person he could still save. It was tempting to act on that instinct again, to put up your walls. But this soldier was your last chance at freedom, and whatever half-normal life you might be able to salvage after all this.

His hands found your waist next, guiding you to a standing position. "You stay behind me and you'll get out of here. I promise you." Kyle spoke to you softly, before leading the way out of there. You'd never seen the outside of the observation room, not once in all the time you had been kept there.

He allowed you to cling to him as he retraced his steps, ascending the staircase. Gaz had saved you — point blank. Any longer, and you would've been an abandoned trial by the scientists, or wrongfully executed during the siege.

No amount of paperwork would make this choice any less worth it.

#mw2 #call of duty #task force 141 #mw2 fanfic #task force 141 x reader #cod headcanons #cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #cod x y/n #cod x you #cod x female reader #mw2 x reader #simon riley x reader #simon riley #ghost mw2 #john soap mactavish #soap x reader #soap x you #soap mactavish x reader #kyle gaz garrick x reader #kyle gaz garrick x you #gaz x reader #kyle gaz garrick #john price x reader #captain john price #john price #141 headcanons #141 task force #tf 141

[strangersmunsons]

bloodletting

you're kind of dead. but so is Eddie, just in a different way.

"Oh, you were a vampire, and baby, I’m a walking dead."

Contains: Vampire!Eddie x Zombie!Reader, gn!zombie!reader, Eddie owns a record store, you’re newly (un)dead and still figuring it out. No use of y/n, no description of reader’s appearance, use of pet names but no gendered pronouns. Warnings: mentions of death and descriptions of anatomical parts, both of which may be a little gross. Allusions to murder, though nothing is shown. Eddie drinks blood. Word Count: ~5,000 Not sure if this has been done yet; I've seen vampire!eddie and zombie!eddie, but I don't think I've come across this particular x reader combo? so hopefully I'm not stepping on anyone's toes here. anyway - hope you enjoy!

The summer heat is miserable, suffocating; large swaths of shimmering air hover above the sticky tar pavement, beckoning you from a distance like a teasing portal to another dimension, always in sight but never in reach. 

You plod down the crack-ridden sidewalk, eyes cast downward. Dregs of once-lush moss and sprays of weeds poke through the shattered valleys in the concrete, now brown and withered beneath the cruel sun. 

You admire those tiny plants. How they survive. How they find a way to live, against all odds, in the most unlikeliest of places. 

They remind you of yourself. Especially now, on the verge of their death.

You continue on, shuffling aimlessly. Each step is halting, just the tiniest bit broken. And there’s an odd grinding noise that emits from your left knee if you take too large of a stride. You suppose that it would probably hurt, if you could feel pain.

But such sensations tend to be lost on you these days.

You glance skyward, the sun a winking yellow coin directly overhead. You’re not sure how it may affect your strange flesh — you haven’t quite worked out all the particulars of your condition yet. Some parts of you are lost, utterly lifeless; and yet, your sentience, amongst other random physiological capabilities, remain. You imagine your trillions of cells to be stuck in some kind of purgatory, hovering on the equatorial line between life and death.

Can the sun hurt you? Have your cells gone far enough down the path of their programmed death so as to be rendered impervious to the ultraviolet rays, or are the thymine dimers still forming, creating mutinous clumps in your DNA? Or, would you react like a corpse left to rot in the desert, internal gasses bubbling up through your gut that will make you bloat and split, ripping you open like a spoiled piece of overripe fruit?

You’d rather not find out.

The strip mall you’re treading through is mostly deserted. You suppose that everyone is at home, waiting out the heat within the cool confines of air-conditioned houses. Only you, to whom the temperature changes barely register, are out and about.

You duck into the nearest shop without checking to see what store it is. You just need to kill some time, wait for some cloud cover before venturing back out. There’s a cheerful tinkling of bells when you push the door open, an inviting sound to welcome you inside.

Hovering at the entrance, you stare unblinkingly around at your new surroundings — a record store.

Here, it’s dark and cool. The walls are painted black, and only just visible beneath the hundreds of posters plastered overtop of them. There are rows and rows of vinyl records and cassette tapes on display, and one corner is sectioned off for t-shirts and band merchandise, along with a table offering a small selection of horror novels and VHS tapes. No one seems to around, though you figure at least one employee must be lurking somewhere. An unknown song crackles through the speakers, some band with a wailing guitar and an even louder singer. It’s not bad.

You take a deep breath, although you’re not sure what the action does for you, exactly, and move down an aisle to start browsing in. Your fingers pop at the knuckles when you stretch your hands out to file through the records, and you frown when you notice one of your fingernails has broken off.

Is that gonna grow back, or…?

“Help you find somethin’?”

You look up, careful not to move your head too quickly, lest it snap right off of your neck.

The store employee — Eddie, by the title on his nametag — is standing very close to you, much closer than you would expect him to be, considering that you hadn’t seen or heard anyone approaching at all. Your eyes rake over his figure.

He has dark, tangled curls that hang all the way down to his chest, and his eyes are so brown they’re nearly black. He’s wearing a denim vest over a black W.A.S.P. shirt with the sleeves cut off, exposing thick, tattooed arms. He gives you a serene, close-mouthed smile that dimples his cheeks, full lips stretching widely across his pale face. If you could still flush, you probably would, but blood flow seems to be at a very minimum, if it’s even happening at all. He’s hot. 

Well. Interesting to note that that part of you hasn’t changed.

You cough. “J-just looking.” Your voice is dry, raspy; you sound like a sixty-year-old chainsmoker. But if it surprises Eddie, it doesn’t show.

He points at the album you’ve paused at. “You like The Cramps?” 

You nod carefully, not trusting your rusty larynx. 

He hooks a thumb over his shoulder at the merch section. “We got some cool shirts of theirs over there, too, if you wanna take a look.”

“O-okay.”

There’s a mild shift in his expression, a slight shadow crossing over that customer-service smile, causing it to fade from his pretty face. He stares at you curiously; you swear you see his nostrils flaring.

You take a cautious step back.

“Well…if you need anything, just holler,” he tells you, disgruntled. As he turns and walks away, back to the register, he casts a backward glance at you, brow furrowed. If you weren’t so nervous, you might have marveled at how silent his footfalls are. 

With shaky hands, you continue perusing the selection before you, though all you can really focus on is the feeling of Eddie’s eyes glued to your back from across the store.

Some of your senses might have been dulled, but you still know when you’re being watched.

Would it be too suspicious if you just dropped everything and made a break for it? You haven’t technically done anything wrong. Your only crime is being dead. And really, what can he — or anyone — even do to you?

Kill me? 

You snicker.

Then, to your horror, in between Smell of Female and Off the Bone, your left pinkie finger falls off.

Immediately you lurch forward to hide the offending digit from Eddie’s prying eyes, hunching over the display rack. The damn thing has been threatening to come loose for days, kept in its place with the help of a little surgical tape and some superglue — but you’d hoped that the remaining ligaments would be strong enough to prevent this from happening.

Desperately, you plunge further into the display box, jamming your lifeless hands down between the records, groping blindly for the missing finger. You glance back at Eddie, who’s staring at you unabashedly, face a mask of blank confusion. He rises from his seat behind the checkout counter.

Finally, your hand closes around the lost pinkie, and you pull it back out of the display box, keeping it hidden within the confines of your fist. You just manage to spin around with your hands clasped behind your back by the time Eddie manages to make his way over to you again.

He stands with his feet firmly planted on the ground before you, his hands on his hips. “Everything alright over here?” he asks, eyes narrowed in suspicion.

“Yessir,” you chuckle drily.

He’s unconvinced. “Whatcha got back there?”

Panic bolts through your ruined insides. “N-nothing,” you rasp. 

His dark eyebrows shoot up towards his hairline. “No? Prove it.”

He waits expectantly. You try to moisten your lips with your tongue, but the muscle feels like a dehydrated slug in your mouth. Reluctantly, you move the finger so it’s in just one of your fists, and then hold your other hand out to him, flat so he can see your empty palm, smiling weakly.

It’s stupid, but it’s all you’ve got.

Eddie rolls his eyes and scoffs, but before he can say anything, your body betrays you once again. Your grip is none too strong anymore, and the missing digit slips through the web of your other, still-intact fingers, dropping to the floor with a tiny thunk.

Both you and Eddie stare down at the freestanding pinkie, sitting in the center of a white tile near your feet, mottled and sickly-looking. Neither of you say anything.

Suddenly his dark eyes are boring into yours again.

“Uh…I can explain.”

“I knew you smelled wrong,” is the first thing he tells you in the back office of the shop, as he rifles determinedly through the desk drawers.

“Wrong?” you ask, alarmed.

He shoots you a look, a reassuring smile on his lips. “Not bad — just different. Like…” He pauses, searching for the right word. “Like green. Earthy, I guess.”

You wonder if it’s worth mentioning that you crawled out of the ground a week ago. 

“It’s not how people usually smell,” he says casually, face turning triumphant when he finally finds what he’s searching for. Eddie holds up a pocket-sized sewing kit in a plastic case. “I keep this around in case one of my patches falls off. I gotta say, emergency finger-reattachment surgery is a first for me.”

You’re still stuck on his previous statement. “H-how do people usually smell?” your voice quivers, and you wonder how he can act so nonchalant despite your decidedly-undead condition.

“Oh, like lots of different things,” he muses, selecting a needle from the kit. “Some people are flowery, some are fruity.” He wrinkles his nose. “Some people have harsher smells, like…crude oil, or something. And then there’s some that are so sweet it actually burns my nose.”

Eddie holds the case out so you can peer inside at the contents. “Here. Pick a color for your stitches.”

You opt for a tiny spool of dark green thread.

He gestures towards the rolling chair behind the desk. “Have a seat.”

You do as you’re told, plopping unceremoniously down onto the cushion. The chair moves several inches back across the floor from the force of your graceless fall.

Eddie snips the thread, and pops the end in his mouth to wet the frayed fibers, smoothing them into one even strand. Then he threads the needle quickly with an expert hand, tying it off with a knot when he has a decent amount of string to work with.

He kneels down before you, gently taking your pinkie-less hand in his. “Lemme see…do you think you can hold it in place for me?”

You hold the missing pinkie to the spot it was ripped from, lining up the torn edges as best you can. The whitish bone poking out at the ends slips greasily against the stumpy flesh of your knuckle. Frustrated, you try to hold it still so that the phalange and the metacarpal bones are aligned at least somewhat evenly, but you don’t quite have the stability.

Eddie purses his lips, but amusement flickers in his dark eyes. He takes the finger back from you. “I’ve got it, I think,” he says kindly. “Just, ah, help keep it steady, okay?”

Tongue poking out of his mouth in concentration, Eddie presses the needle lightly against your skin. His eyes flit up to yours. “Does that hurt?” 

“No,” you admit.

“Didn’t think so,” he says smugly. 

He pushes the needle in deeper, piercing the skin, maneuvering the slim point beneath the flesh of your knuckle and into the lost finger, connecting the two, then pulling it back out. He does it again and again, looping the thread through your skin until the first few knobbly stitches are formed. 

He checks in again, just in case. “Still doesn’t hurt?”

You shake your head. 

Eddie chuckles under his breath, then resumes his progress. For the next ten minutes, he weaves the needle in and out of your skin, until there are stitches going the whole way around your finger. He carefully ties the last one off, trimming the excess thread with a pair of tiny scissors. 

You hold your now-intact hand out, admiring his handiwork. It’s not perfect, but it’s certainly miles better than anything you could have done yourself. 

“Thank you.” You’re touched by his kindness, but still completely boggled by his non-reaction to a customer losing an entire finger. “I h-have,” you hack out a cough, “a question.”

“Shoot.”

“You’re very calm. How is that?”

Eddie, still kneeling on the floor, looks up at you, puzzled. Then it dawns on him. “Oh, honey. You don’t realize?” But he doesn’t wait for you to reply, maybe anticipating that your throaty, stuttering speech will take too long. Instead, his face scrunches, mouth twisting as though he’s running his tongue across his gums, and then his lips pull back, baring his teeth at you, and —

Shiny, lethal-looking fangs slide out through some hidden, gummy pockets right above his canines. They’re sharp, sharper than any needle he might string through you, gleaming menacingly even in the dim fluorescent light.

You let out a noise that might have been a squeal, in a past life. Clumsily, your feet push at the floor, sending you careening backwards on the rolling chair in an effort to get away from him. 

“Whoa, whoa, hang on! It’s alright!”

Eddie stands and moves a few paces back, giving you some space. He holds his hands up in surrender. “I’m not gonna hurt you, babe. Pretty sure you don’t got what I need, anyway.”

Your body sags in the chair, which is pressed all the way up against the office’s back wall. You eye him warily, although you suppose you’re being a little hypocritical. 

But you’re not the one packing fangs that rival a pit viper’s. 

Eddie smiles at you, pointed teeth poking down over that full bottom lip of his. “What? Did you think you were the only thing that went bump in the night?” he jokes.

Yes. Admittedly.

His face softens. “You haven’t been like this very long, have you?”

Timidly, you shake your head no, the vertebrae in your cervical spine grinding from within your neck.

Lost in thought, Eddie runs his tongue over his teeth again — a seemingly-unconscious movement. “Right…do you need a place to stay tonight?” he asks suddenly, concern lining his features.

You’re not sure how to answer. You don’t seem to really need anything. “Uh…”

He crosses his arms across his chest, mouth quirking up in amusement. “Have you just been wandering around town like you’re in Night of the Living Dead?”

You snort, a dry puff of air whistling through your nostrils. “Kinda.”

“Sheesh. Y’know, I hate to break it to you, but you’re not as inconspicuous as you think you are. It’s a wonder no one’s shot you in the head yet.”

“I th-thought I was blending in pretty well.”

He laughs, a deep belly-laugh that reverberates around the tiny room. “To the untrained eye, maybe. But not to me.”

Eddie, as it turns out, owns the record store, Vicious Vinyl, and lives in the apartment above the shop. The small space is decorated similarly, so much so that it might be mistaken for a second level of the store as opposed to his home. But while Vicious Vinyl seems to offer a wide variety of music options for its patrons, Eddie’s tastes are made clear when you enter the apartment; he’s a heavy metal guy. Pictures of thrash bands, big names you recognize and obscure ones you don’t, hang on all the walls, and macabre-looking baubles lie on every flat surface. Music equipment is scattered throughout the room, guitars and amps filling the empty gaps between the dark furniture. And the windows are all covered by heavy black curtains — drawn tightly shut, of course, keeping the poisonous sunshine from leaching in.

“I have a cot that I’ll set up for you,” says Eddie, tossing his keys onto the kitchen table. You note that the cloth draped overtop of it is a deep crimson color.

Eddie pauses mid-step as something occurs to him. “Do you sleep?”

“Uh-uh. Do you?”

Eddie nods. “I do. Not in a coffin,” he adds, catching the way you peer around the room as though looking for a cobweb-ridden box. He nudges you playfully. “But you know where I do sleep?”

You imagine him hanging upside down from the ceiling like a bat. “Where?”

His eyes twinkle, like he’s about to divulge something juicy. “Under the bed.”

Your mouth falls open in surprise, and he laughs at your awestruck gaze. “Don’t know why, just feels right.”

“Weird.”

“Weirder than not sleeping at all?”

You shrug, unsteady frame rippling with the motion. Your cracked lips pull up at the corners, forming your first true smile of this odd existence. Eddie grins back.

“You’re pretty cute for a corpse, you know that?”

Your dead body fills with delight that you don’t quite know how to express — you hope that your condition excuses your lack of verbal response. But either way Eddie doesn’t seem to mind it; he simply turns and heads into the living room, motioning for you to follow.

You obey, shuffling along as quickly as you can, feet dragging noisily against the hardwood floor. When he gestures for you to do so, you sink unsteadily onto the plush leather couch. 

“I have to get back down to the shop, but I’ll close early and come back up soon,” he says nonchalantly, adjusting the chain bracelet on his wrist. “In the meantime, you make yourself at home.”

“Thank you.”

He nods in acknowledgement and, with a smile, exits the apartment, leaving you alone. 

The door clicks shut, and you settle back into the cushions, eyes wandering around as your tap your feet gently, impatiently, against the floor. You pick up the remote from the coffee table and flick the boxy television to life. You flip through channels for a while, letting each mindless program play for a minute before moving on to the next one, the muted colors on the bulbous screen and scratchy audio leaving little to no impression upon you. Boring. You turn it back off.

You purse your dry lips in thought. Truthfully, what you really want to do is snoop, but it’s rather gracious of Eddie to let you stay here, especially unattended…trusting, even. Would he be able to tell if you took a quick look around? And would he be angry with you if you did?

You decide you can probably risk it. He told you to make yourself at home, after all. 

Rising once more, you peer around the room cautiously, scanning all the bookshelves and photographs and records, looking for anything out of the ordinary, or decidedly vampiric — whatever that should be. But the den seems to be pretty innocuous.

You make your way back into the kitchen. From here, a short stretch of hallway juts out of the room, with two more doors — one is already slightly ajar, offering a glimpse of Eddie’s bedroom, and the other turns out to be a tiny bathroom. You rest a hand on the bedroom door, ready to enter and unearth all of Eddie’s secrets, but hesitate, intuition flickering.

If Eddie’s in possession of any bloody contraband, there’s one certain place you suspect he might keep it, and it’s not in his room.

The refrigerator is humming innocently with life. There’s the crackling sound of ice being made. Its cool whiteness is smooth and clean. Your hand clasps around the handle, and you wrench the door open.

Jars rattle from the force of your pull. A burst of bright light floods the dark kitchen, illuminating your dead face in a nightmarish glow. 

The interior shelves are smeared with crimson fingerprints, speckled with dried puddles of red crust. No doubt spillage from the plethora of bloody bottles crowded inside, all filled with that human lifestuff that they — and he — need so badly to survive. The dark, thick liquid gleams within the confines of the glass, some filled to the brim, others containing only mere dregs. 

Fascinated, you pull one of the bottles off the shelf and give it an experimental shake, watching bubbles whir into existence on the surface, making a layer of soft pink foam. You twist off the cap, peering inside; almost nosing the lip of the opening, you give it a delicate sniff. You’re not sure if your olfactory nerves can actually detect the faint, rusty odor, or if it’s a phantom scent, pulled from your memory. 

You quietly screw the cap back on, and stowe the bottle back in its place. The refrigerator door swings shut once more, closing the gory sight out of view. 

Interesting.

Hours later, Eddie comes back to the apartment. You’re sitting at the kitchen table now, working on the crossword puzzle from yesterday’s newspaper, dry tongue poking out of the corner of your mouth in concentration. 

“Hello,” he greets you easily, shrugging out of his vest and tossing it over the back of a chair. He comes to stand beside you, looking down at the paper from over your shoulder. “24 down is orc, by the way. O-R-C.”

You frown. “I’m not there yet.”

Eddie barks out a laugh. “Sorry.” He pulls the chair next to you away from the table and takes a seat. 

You tap the end of your pencil against the table. “I w-would’ve gotten it.” 

“I’m sure you would have,” he says indulgently, resting his head on his hand. “Is this what you’ve been doing all afternoon?”

You nod. Mostly, anyway.

He studies your face for a moment, then scrunches his nose.

You mimic his expression. “What?”

“Have you noticed that you don’t blink?”

“No.”

He pokes you in the shoulder. “It’s kinda spooky,” he chuckles playfully. “Which is fine! I’m kinda spooky, too.”

“I don’t think I n-need to.”

His head cocks to the side. “You are funny, aren’t you,” he murmurs. 

That’s one way of putting it.

Eddie bites his lip — fangs hidden away again, retreated back in their gummy slits — and, hesitantly, extends one hand towards you. You flinch back automatically.

“Sorry,” he says, but doesn’t pull his hand back. “But do you mind if I just…try something?” 

You nod cautiously, unsure of what he’s getting at. 

Eddie — slowly, so as not to startle you — leans forward and presses his palm to your chest, right over where your heart lurks inside. He searches for a pulse that isn’t there, feeling nothing, no meaty organ throbbing and thumping against your ribcage, just placid hollowness, as though there were no chambered fist of tissue there at all.

A hush falls over the two of you, while he waits in vain.

You offer an apologetic smile. 

Eddie simply hums, and removes his hand, settling back in his chair. “You and I aren’t so different, you know. Mine doesn’t beat, either, unless I…” he trails off, a twinkle of mirth in his eyes. “Well, you can probably guess.”

“Yes. I found your stash.”

Eddie sucks in a quick breath, face hardening. “Forgive me. I know it’s a little gruesome, but a man’s gotta survive somehow, doesn’t he?”

You nod, understanding. The shock of his vampirism has worn off quickly, now that you no longer believe him to be a threat. As he’s so dutifully pointed out, and proven again just now, you don’t have what he needs.

“Listen, I was thinking when I was down there, and I know I already said you could stay for the night, but —”

Dismay. He’s already kicking you out, and you’ve only been here for a few hours.

“— we can talk about a more long-term arrangement, if you want?” 

Oh. Okay.

Eddie continues, oblivious to your inner turmoil, “I need some help around the shop. And I can’t trust myself to have too many employees hanging around, for obvious reasons,” he chuckles, gesturing helplessly towards his fridge, “so if you’re interested, I could give you a job. And I’d have you stay here with me, of course.”

“Really?” you whisper raggedly.

Eddie shrugs. “Yeah. And you don’t have to worry about rent or anything, either. Just a few hours of work a day, that’s all I ask.”

You nod eagerly, the motion exuberant enough that it makes your neck click.

Eddie’s eyes widen at the alarming sound, though he’s still grinning. “Okay! Be careful. Your head will be a lot harder to sew back on than a finger.” 

The next few weeks are a bit of a learning curve, you and Eddie both adjusting to your presence in each other’s lives. 

During the day, you get some basic retail training. Eddie handles the real business side of things, but teaches you how he likes to organize and stock new arrivals, and lets you try your hand at the register. You’re good at it, but he’s hesitant to let customers speak to you for too long, lest they notice anything…unusual about you. 

It’s all good fun, the two of you together, even when business is slow. You spend one dull afternoon crowded at the counter together, working on a nametag — Eddie’s a good artist, and decorates the space around your name with green, swirling designs and miniature doodles of tombstones. He even lets you swipe a Cramps button from the merch table to pin onto your lanyard.

When the shop closes up, you both trudge back upstairs to the apartment, and pass the time playing cards, watching movies, listening to records; Eddie will sip on a cup of dark liquid, puffing on a cigarette or maybe a joint, while you sit with your hands folded neatly in your lap, no needs or vices to trouble you, just enjoying this newfound companionship. Sometimes he even reads aloud to you, or plays you song on his acoustic guitar.

Eventually it reaches that point in the day where the sun finally sinks out of sight, wherein Eddie yanks back the curtains and throws up the window, letting the cool night air seep in. You watch with fascination every time, transfixed by the way the moonlight hits his pale skin, shines across his dark curls…dances over his pearly teeth.

Later, Eddie will retire to bed, bidding you goodnight and crawling into the small space beneath his floor and his mattress to sleep, while you sit up on the couch or the cot he’s so needlessly set up for you, with the gentle hum of the television keeping you company in the slumberless dark.

But other times he leaves, disappearing into the night and not returning til it’s nearly dawn, spattered with blood, bits of gore clinging to his clothes. He practically lurches into the apartment, blood-drunk, dragging what’s left of his kill behind him in a cooler for safekeeping. 

The bloodletting takes place outside. He never brings the body in.

The first time it happened, you simply watched, glassy eyes watching him from across the room. But the next time you were ready. When he finished stowing the fresh blood away in the fridge, you moved in, and gently tugged on the back of his shirt, prompting him to remove his clothing; when he was stripped down to his boxers, you brought the discarded, ruined garments to the sink, and ran them under cold water. He watched you treat his clothes silently, searching for any sign of fright or disgust, but found none. He rested his hands on your shoulders and squeezed, a nonverbal thank you, before leaving you to take a shower.

This becomes routine. Eddie feeds and brings home the leftovers, which will tide him over until he has to make another kill. This doesn’t bother you; with each passing day, you feel more and more disconnected from the humans around you, the true ones, the ones who live and breathe and pump blood through their veins. You aren’t one of them, and they aren’t one of you.

So you don’t ask who any of them are, or where he finds them, but you do wait patiently for your vampire to come home, with a damp cloth in hand, ready to wash the blood from his face.

Tonight is one such night; when he stumbles through the door and into the kitchen, you’re already seated at the table with a bowl of warm water and a rag. You rise unsteadily to greet him, and he unloads his haul, putting the fresh bottles away onto their cold shelves. When he turns to face you again, he leans in, letting you tenderly swipe the dried smears of red tissue from around his mouth. His lips pout slightly when you drag the cloth over them, like a small kiss barely felt through the fabric.

He seems different; charged and bristling, as opposed to his usual sated and sleepy state. 

“Everything okay?”

He doesn’t answer right away. Instead, he strokes a thumb across your cheekbone, a light, experimental touch. “You’re sort of perfect for me, you know that?”

You pause your ministrations, startled by the unprompted praise. You swallow drily, and try to continue cleaning his face, but he clasps a hand around your wrist, keeping it in place.

His other arm snakes around your waist. “I’m serious,” he insists in a whisper. “Where have you been all my life?”

A faint smile touches your lips. “Had to wait until mine was over, I s’pose.”

His eyelids flutter, and before you can react, his bloody mouth is on yours. His kisses are sloppy, all fangs and tongue, smearing your lips and chin with gore. You return them dazedly, brittle fingers knotting in his tangled hair, letting him take what he wants.

It’s not like you need to catch your breath. 

When he finally pulls back, a string of red-tinged spit connects your mouths. He pants in your face, nose rubbing against yours, then dots bloody pecks all over your cheeks and forehead. You lean into him, letting him hold your dead body in his arms.

“My little love,” he whispers into your skin.

thank you for reading!! ❤️

btw did you know that the gaboon viper has the longest fangs of any venemous snake? this has nothing to do with the fic. just thought if you made it to the end, maybe you'd enjoy a fun snake fact I came across when looking something up for this story. their fangs can grow up to 2 inches long, and this species is in a genus called Bitis, so that's fucking hilarious.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson reader insert #eddie munson x gn!reader #eddie munson x gender neutral reader #eddie munson oneshot #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson blurb #vampire!eddie munson #vampire!eddie #monster!eddie munson #monster!eddie #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanfic

[lex-the-flex]

In Front of You

Leon S. Kennedy x reader

Summary: Caught in the middle of the crossfire, you are ready to do anything for your team – especially for the man who cares for you the most.

Word Count: 1.5k

Warning(s): MEGA FLUFF, (make-out session) descriptions of injuries, talks of virus and needles, sensations of pain, cursing, action and violence, and character death.

A/N: I can’t believe I haven’t written anything for Leon since Death Island came out! I ADORED that movie and everyone in it!

Tip-toeing through the dark and damp hallways, you could practically hear the pounding rhythm of your heartbeat in your ears. Guiding your flashlight along the isolated cell blocks, everything seems still and quiet. Preparing to turn the corner, the panicked sounds of your team – your friends fill the empty halls, and you sprint like your life depended on it.

Catching up to Jill and Leon, you find them crouched in front of a set of dimly lit cells where both Claire and Chris Redfield are being held.

"Leon? Jill!" You call out, shining your light toward them.

Joining your team members at the cells, you grip the thick iron bars, and gaze at the sudden withered state of the siblings.

"Oh my God, you guys are so pale." Jill says, shifting her gaze from Chris to Claire.

Reaching through the bars, you work quickly to feel Chris' forehead, only to discover that he, like Claire is significantly hotter than a sunburn.

"And you're burning up so fast." You state, rushing to Claire's side in the separate cell.

"Hurry, get us out of here!" A third man shouts in the dark. begging for one of you to open the door.

Realizing that this man isn't infected, Leon clocks in on who he is within seconds.

"Son of a bitch, Antonio Taylor." He announces with a hint of annoyance.

"What are you talking about?" Claire questions in between staggered breaths, trying to remain calm.

"This scumbag's wanted for leaking national secrets to the enemies of the U.S. of A. Y/N and I were supposed to bring him in for questioning." Leon explains, glancing down at you as you tend to Claire.

Suddenly, the prison lights come on, and both Leon and Jill aim their guns in any direction they can. Removing your pistol from your holster, you sink back over to Chris to re-check his temperature.

"Welcome to Alcatraz. It's an honor to have you all here, together. Please, allow me to introduce myself. I'm Dylan Blake." The mad man known as Dylan begins explaining from an upper row of cells joined by none other than Maria Gómez.

Standing from your position on the floor, you aim for Maria, as the feeling of some unresolved revenge starts to creep up your spine.

"I bet you're how people are being infected without being bitten. The answer is simple: my prototype bio-drones." Dylan finishes, crossing his arms.

From the corner of your eye, the faintest buzzing noise whips past your face, and heads straight for Leon. Acting on your feet, you shove Leon out of the way, and a sharp, stinging pain erupts on the side of your neck, and you drop your pistol.

Landing on your side, the flashlights beam illuminates the shiny style of Maria's slick greyish and purple jumpsuit just as she jumps down from the upper cell block.

"Well, that was... unexpected. It's very brave of you, Miss L/N to put your life on the line for someone you love." Dylan mocks you, leaning forward on his cane.

Leaning over your shivering physique, a cruel smirk fills Maria's dark lips as you writhe on the cement floor. Aiming your pistol at the woman, Maria kicks you into the bars, causing you to scream. Silently wincing, both Chris and Claire feel your pain with you while they listen to your gasping for air.

“Y/N, don't. Save your strength!” Chris weakly calls out, forcing himself to sit up from his spot on the wall.

Groaning in pain, even your teeth ache as you lean against the bars, hoping for any kind of relief.

"I get it now. All this tech, even the virus, you got it all from Arias. That's why she's here, isn't it?" Leon asks, turning to Maria.

"Of course, Mr. Kennedy. I thought that after you murdered poor Maria’s father, that I’d settle the score. For both of us. It’s rather fitting, don’t you think? To see the woman you love be torn apart in front of your eyes, just as she once witnessed with you.” Dylan interprets, hinting at his own years of research.

“Fuck you, Blake! You don’t get to decide the course of our lives!” You shout in retaliation to no avail.

Leaving Jill with a warning, Dylan leaves the vast hallways of cell blocks, allowing Maria to finally get her hands dirty. Moving to protect you, Leon throws a flash bang, allowing Jill to make her quick escape to the armory.

*****

"Why'd you do that Y/N? That drone was meant for me, sweetheart." Leon asks, crouching down to your level.

Taking your face in his hands, a faint laugh leaves your chapped lips.

"I told you I'd owe you one. You took the Plaga for me, remember? So I did what I thought was right; finally paying off the debt." You explain through a series of whimpers.

"Oh, honey. That was eleven years ago. I wouldn't be alive if it weren't for you." Leon replies, gently stroking your cheek.

"He's right, Y/N. Then the Graham's wouldn't be safe. You and Leon could've died if it wasn't for your actions. You were fast, and both of you kept Ashley safe." Chris explains, making the long weight rise off of your chest.

"Yeah, we did our job. It may not be the best life, but our life. All of our lives." Leon announces, looking around to his friends and Taylor.

Taking your hand in his, you sit up against the bars, and sweat starts to pool on your forehead.

"I love you." Leon whispers before you, and a single tear drips from your e/c orb.

Shortly after his declaration, Rebecca arrives with a case of fresh vaccines. Injecting you with the medicine, Leon helps you to your feet, where the two of you prepare to face a bigger threat.

*****

Making your way to the control room, you and Leon observe the water starting to rise in the armory.

"Why's he letting all the water in?" Leon asks.

"I don't know. Maybe for the drones?" You reply, leaning against the monitors.

"You okay?" He asks, hovering his hand above your shoulder.

"Yeah, this stuff works wonders. You should try it." You joke with a smile.

"I'll take your word for it." Leon responds with a smirk.

Glancing behind his shoulder, your miniscule peaceful moment is interrupted by the sound of heels entering the room.

"I'm glad the virus didn't kill you both. I wanted to be the one to do it." Maria announces, standing firm on the stairs below.

"You don't always get what you want. Trust me." Leon projects, turning to face Maria.

Smirking, Maria kicks a computer screen from a pillar, and Leon dodges the fast moving object. Jumping for him, Maria punches Leon without any effort, and smashes him against the slanted single row of desks.

"This is for my father!!" Maria yells, lowering a jagged piece of a metal pipe towards Leon's face.

"He was Arias's guard dog. You were his bitch!" Leon retaliates, moving the pipe away from his face.

Feeling your strength return, you throw yourself into Maria's body, catching her with both of your arms. Colliding with her into a glass drawing board, your legs hit the small stair rail, forcing you to roll into your landing.

Struggling to your feet, Leon equips his Sentinel 9 and fires a few rounds at Maria, to which she dodges with a fierce kick to a desk chair. Launching herself towards Leon, Maria wraps her body around his bulletproof suit, and tries anything to disarm him.

Slamming Leon to the ground, Maria holds him in a headlock, desperate to take her revenge, but not before you finally shoot her in the left shoulder. Releasing Leon from her grip, she turns to face you with nothing but rage filling her eyes.

"You've been nothing but a thorn in my side! I've thought about nothing else but snapping that pretty neck of yours for over a year!" Maria shouts, pacing towards you.

"Yeah well, you're gonna have to try a lot harder than that!" You protest, shooting at Maria once more.

Working together, you and Leon quickly overpower Maria whilst as your stamina returns to your form. Taking a few more punches, Leon decides that enough is enough, and he kicks Maria out of sight. Crawling to you, Leon offers his reassuring touch to your back, until a worried expression fills your face.

Witnessing the sight of Maria being impaled by one of the glass board stands, she slowly walks from the metal stand, freeing herself. Standing to protect you, Leon pumps his arms one final time, but instead of making one last move, Maria falls to the ground; dead.

Standing in the room, a series of gasps and pants leave your lips, as the two of you try to cool down from the whole encounter. However, Leon rushes towards you and clasps his hands around your face. Frantically pressing his pink lips on yours, he moves at an ungodly pace, capturing your taste in his mouth.

A low growl escapes his chest as he backs up into an unbroken pillar and he moves his lips down to your neck, preparing to leave a mark, reminding everyone who you belonged to.

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#resident evil #resident evil death island #resident evil leon #resident evil leon kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leon kennedy fic #leon kennedy fanfic #leon s kennedy #leon kennedy imagine #leon kennedy x y/n #leon kennedy x you #capcom resident evil #capcom #matt mercer #nick apostolides

[secretswiftymarvelfan]

Run Free - Alpha!Ari Levinson x Omega!Reader (Part 1: Run)

Summary: As an Omega you knew your place in the world, however when the opportunity arrives to escape you take it... only to find yourself face to face with another Alpha

Word Count: 2.9k

Warnings: Language! Captive Situation! Suggestion of Non-Con environment! Angst!

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

Chapter 1: Run

You woke up with a start, the sound of your cell door opening with a loud creak. You looked up to see one of your captors standing at the door looking down at you. The scent of the large Alpha assaulted your nose making you want to vomit.

“Eat, you’ve got a long day ahead of you” he ordered dropping the plate of food by your feet.

You glance down at the plate of food. Seeing the pathetic excuse for food, something that just looked like mush. Even though it was the only food you’d get you weren’t racing to eat it.

“Eat it you worthless omega” The Alpha commands with a growl grabbing your head and forcing it down “Or do I have to teach you where you stand?”

You didn’t dare say anything, your body reacting to the alpha command, picking up the plate and forcing the food down trying your best not to gag. The alpha watching on with a disgusting smirk on his face. You’d been held captive long enough to know your place in the world. As an omega, you were nothing more than a piece of meat for Alpha to use however and whenever they please, you had to lose certain battles to avoid others.

“It’s sale day for you Omega so you’ll be out of here soon enough” he smirks before making his exit.

You knew your future was dire, you were to be sold to the highest bidder. Your only hope was that you were brought by someone nice, that or when they did eventually kill you it would be quick. It was better than starving to death. 

Once you had eaten you were dragged out of your cell. All the other Omegas were lined up and marched through the compound out to the courtyard. As you walked the other captors would laugh, purposefully tripping you up. Grabbing you as you passed, taunting you.

Once outside they ordered you to line up against the wall and strip down naked. A couple of omegas protested but were instantly whipped using the silver-tipped whip. They screamed out in pain, instantly submitting and removing their clothing. Soon you were all standing there naked, with the exception of the collars that stopped you from shifting. You could see the captors watching, a few of them whistling making your skin crawl.

They then turned on the high-powered hose and started spraying you all with freezing cold water. As much as you tried to avoid it they would always purposely aim the water at your face. Making you feel like you were drowning before giving you a short moment of respite. Just another level of torture they subjected you to.

Once they turned the hose off they handed out clean clothes. Which only consisted of shorts and a vest. They didn’t give you a towel you just had to remain damp until you slowly dried off. It wasn’t uncommon for people to fall ill and die from pneumonia here.

Once you were all dressed they attached silver handcuffs around your wrists. The pain from the metal stopping you in your tracks, the skin around your wrist already burnt and scarred. 

Once you were all bound you were attached to a chain and dragged out. The sounds of whines filled the corridor as the silver dug into everyone’s wrists. You were led out to a truck and shoved inside. Someone coming and securing you all in place, additional silver restraints being attached around your ankles. Ensuring none of you could escape during transport to the sales centre.

You weren’t sure how long you remained in the back of the truck. All the omega quietly talked with each other about their lives before this hell. Eventually, the truck stopped but it wasn’t the end of your journey. Instead, you were herded out of the truck and into a shipping container.

Once in the shipping container, they gave out bottles of water and stale bread which felt more like a brick. Once they were gone they shut the shipping container leaving all of you in complete darkness. 

Overall you had no clue how long you had been in this container. You had no way to tell the time, not that you did before when you were in your cell. Occasionally they’d bring more food or water but that was it. You guess though that you were in the shipping container for at least 3 days though.

Eventually, the door to the container opened and a blast of warm air entered the container. A direct contrast to the cold metal you’d grown accustomed to over the past few days.

As you stepped outside you savour the fresh air before you were taken into a rackety old truck. They chained you all up to the rotten wood. A thin layer of tarpaulin covers the roof and sides. You sat at the very back giving you the best view.

As the truck drove off you were able to look out. Dreaming of one day having the freedom to go wherever you pleased. Maybe the Alpha they sold you to would be kind enough to give you those freedoms. As the truck drove through the forest you imagined what it would be like to run through the trees. Darting in and around them, the wind whistling past your ears and through your fur.

Everyone bumped around as the truck travelled down the dirt road. At one point, however, you shifted just as the truck hit a large pothole causing you to be thrown hard enough for your retrains to break free of the rotten wood. Now completely free despite your hands and feet still being bound you got thrown out of the back of the truck.

As you roll along the dirt track you wait for the truck to stop but it doesn’t. You realise this was your chance to finally be free. You couldn’t stay here though. You quickly shuffled off of the road and into a bush to hide. 

You waited there in silence waiting for your absence to be noticed and your freedom to be taken once more. But that never happened. They never returned.

You sat up and looked down at the silver shackles around your ankles. You start working on getting yourself free wincing at the metal brushed across your skin. Finally, you got yourself free and tossed the shackles as far away as possible. You examine the burns on your ankles, they were bad but like the rest but they would just scar over eventually.

You had no hope of getting your handcuffs off alone, you needed help. You passed through a town not far back, maybe you could find another omega or a beta to help you. You also knew you needed at least a beta to remove this collar that would allow you to be truly free. 

Pushing yourself up onto your feet you steadied yourself against a nearby tree. Once you were certain your weakened ankles could hold your weight you started walking back towards the town. You made sure to stay hidden in the trees just in case you were spotted by the wrong people.

You walked for hours. Your body was so tired and weak. You clung to trees as you walked past, desperate to keep yourself up and moving. You couldn’t stop, not until you found somewhere safe. 

Eventually, the edge of town came into view. Leaving the forest you stumbled through the back alley behind some building. At one point you stumbled catching yourself on the side of a dumpster. 

Your legs felt like lead, it felt impossible to keep yourself up for a second longer. You slump against the dumpster hoping a moment of rest would help.

Suddenly a backdoor to one of the buildings opened. You froze in fear as the scent of an Alpha filled your nostrils. You turned to look and saw the large man walking out of the building trash bag in hand. He shouted something back to someone who was inside as he ran his hair through his long brown hair. 

You didn’t dare move as he approached the dumpster seemingly unaware of your presence. You barely breathed as he threw the trash bag into the dumpster and turned to head back towards the building.

You risk glancing over the side of the dumpster a move you instantly regret when you accidentally make a sound. You saw the alpha freeze before slowly turning to face you, his eyes widening in surprise when he spotted you. His nostrils flared as he scents you and you knew you were in danger. There was no way this Alpha would let you get away now that he knew you were an Omega.

So you ran, or at least you tried to. Your weak legs refused to cooperate, leaving you stumbling.

“Whoa wait!” The alpha shouts moving after you.

You desperately try and get away but you trip and fall. With your hand bound by handcuffs, you weren’t able to catch yourself. Hitting your head as you fell, you tried to move but your body refused exhaustion taking over. The last thing you saw was the Alpha crouching over you.

Ari had woken up early that day, not that he’d slept well that night anyway. His mind running at a million miles per hour, running through all the things he could do and needed to do. He went on his usual morning run, hoping that would help but it didn’t. 

In the end, he just decided to go to work early. He drove from his cabin just outside of town parking up behind the bar. Letting himself into the bar he owned he made his way into the back office. 

Dropping his bag in the corner he first makes himself a pot of coffee before dropping down onto the small couch he had. He sighs running his hand through his hair. 

Once the coffee had brewed he pushed himself up from the couch. He poured himself a cup taking a large sip as he moved to sit at his desk. 

As he sat down at his desk his eyes fell on the picture on his desk. He smiled slightly as he remembered that day. It was the day his bar, The Red Sea, officially opened. He and his friend all stood outside smiling proudly.

When the bar first opened business had been booming. They almost had to herd people out when closing time rolled around. Presently the story couldn’t be any more different. Now they would shut up early to save money on utilities.

Ari knew he needed to do something but he had no clue what. If he didn’t find a solution too otherwise he’d have to consider selling up. And anyone who knew Ari knew that he wasn’t a quitter.

Sighing to himself he started going through the month's expenses. Doing all the paperwork that made his position even more painfully obvious. 

“Do you ever go home?” Rachel asked leaning against the door frame.

“No it saves money” Ari says not looking up from his work.

“What’s the verdict?” She asks walking in and perching on the edge of the desk.

“Not great we maybe have 6 months at most to turn this place around otherwise I’ll have to sell” Ari sighs shaking his head.

“It’ll work out, you always think of something,” Rachel says patting him on the shoulder as she stands up.

“The rest of the guys are coming up later so don’t hide away in here all day” she adds before leaving him in the office alone.

Ari nodded in agreement before turning back to his work. He ended up spending hours in there working away. Putting off going out to see just how empty the bar would be. He could hear his friends though all laughing and talking loudly.

Eventually, he had done all the work he could and decided to head out to his friends.

“Ah, there he is the slacker!!” Jake shouts once he spots Ari.

“I hope you all paid for those beers” Ari retorted looking at the three men.

“Hey, we’re your best customers!” Max complains.

“You’re my only customers” Ari sighed as he stood behind the bar.

“Don’t worry Rachel charged us” Sammy said pointing over to Rachel who rolled her eyes as she wiped the bar down.

“Good because otherwise there won’t be a bar to come hang out in,” Ari says.

“Stop being so melodramatic you’ve just hit a slump. Every business goes through it, it’ll pick up soon” Sammy tells him.

“Yeah I bet something is right around the corner” Max says.

“Right let's stop being all depressed, you owe me a game of pool” Jake says pointing at Ari.

“I do?” Ari asks not recalling promising him that, the last game they played Ari wiped the floor with him.

“Fine call it a rematch” Jake says shrugging his shoulders as he racks up.

Ari smirks as he walks over “Fine let’s make it interesting”

Jake raises a brow as he stands up “What are you thinking?” Jake asks.

“You win, I’ll buy you a drink for a week. I win, you take a garbage out” Ari smirks.

“Oh no not that dumpster, that thing fucking stinks!!” Jake complains.

“Fine we won’t play,” Ari says shrugging his shoulders and stepping away.

“Okay, okay fine, you can break” Jake relents holding out the pool cue.

Ari smiled taking the pool cue from Jake and lining up his first shot. The balls broke with a resounding crack and much to Ari’s joy and Jake’s annoyance, 2 striped balls rolled into the pockets.

“Fuck sake man” Jake complains shaking his head.

“Regretting that decision now?” Ari smirks.

The rest of the game was pretty close, with Jake managing to catch up when Ari missed a couple. Everyone else cheering on who they thought would win.

“Go on Jake!” Sammy shouted.

“Hey you’re supposed to be backing me up” Ari complained to his childhood best friend.

“Nope sorry I’m backing my fellow Beta today” Sammy says holding up his hands in surrender.

“Don’t worry Ari we’ve got you” Max says gesturing to Rachel.

“Oh, so it's alpha’s vs Beta’s then?” Jake asks.

“Seems that way” Ari laughs.

Eventually, the game got down to the final ball. Ari lined up his shot, it should have been easy. It should have gone in, but for whatever godforsaken reason it hit the side of the pocket and bounced out. Leaving it perfectly open for Jake to easily pot it, which he did.

“Yes!! Rachel grab me a beer and pass Ari the trash” Jake says smiling victoriously as he walks back towards the bar.

Ari groans in annoyance as Rachel passes him the trash bag. All of his friends laughed as he made his way to the back door.

“And no holding your breath that’s cheating” Sammy shouts after him.

“Shut up I’ll do as I like” Ari shouts back as he steps outside.

As he approaches the dumpster he holds his breath as he chucks the bag into it. As he turns around and starts walking away he hears shuffling. 

He turns around expecting to see a raccoon or something. He wasn’t expecting to see someone peeking out beside the dumpster. He sniffs slightly realising that it was an omega, one that looks completely petrified. He cautiously takes a step closer but you take off.

“Whoa wait!” He shouts moving after you.

He watches as you stumble and fall, it's only then that he notices the handcuffs around your wrists. He sees you try and push yourself up before completely slumping down in exhaustion.

“Hey it's okay, I’m not gonna hurt you” Ari says calmingly as he crouches down beside you.

You look up at him and he can see the fear in your eyes before they completely shut and you pass out.

“Shit” Ari mutter looking down at you “Sammy! Sam!” Ari then shouts “I need you out here” 

“I swear to god Levinson if you throw something gross at me” Sammy says stepping outside “Fuck what the hell happened!” Sammy says when he spots Ari crouching beside you.

“I don’t know, she was hiding behind the dumpster and then ran when she saw me but tripped and must have hit her head” Ari said looking over at all your injuries, spotting the burns on your ankles.

At this point, everyone else had made their way outside wondering what was going on.

“Whoa is she okay?” Jake asks nodding down to you.

“I dunno, we need to get her inside” Sammy says as he looks over you.

“What’s she got around her wrists?” Rachel asks.

“Handcuff by the looks of it” Max says, 

Ari decides to try and break them off but when his finger comes into contact with the metal he hisses in pain.

“Fuck that silver” he hisses shaking his hands.

“That must be what’s caused these burns” Sam says pointing to the burns on your ankles.

“Fuck. Who the hell would do this to someone” Rachel says shaking her head.

“Sick bastards” Ari growls ignoring the pain as he breaks off your handcuffs.

He then gently scoops you up in his arms to take you inside. He had no clue who you were or where you’d come from, but he was damn well sure he wasn’t gonna let anything happen to you now.

Sharing is caring so please reblog and leave a comment to really make my day!

This series has no schedule, please don’t ask when it will be updated!

Series Masterlist / Masterlist

I don’t have a taglist but follow @secretswiftymarvelfanlibrary​ and turn on post notifications to stay up to date!

#niamhwrites #Run Free Series #Ari Levinson #Alpha Ari #A/B/O #Ari Levinson x Reader #Alpha Ari x Omega Reader #Ari Levinson x You #Ari Levinson x Y/N #Chris Evans

[aphroditestempleimagines]

Chained to a demon (18+)

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x fem!reader

Colour: rough and kinky

Warnings: bondage (kind of), vaginal sex, semi-public, prison, fingering, rough sex, kissing, spanking, hand over eyes, wall sex, loving pet names, praise, fyodor being a bit dom and tiny bit possessive, gloves, cum-eating, teasing, unprotected sex (don't do this kids, use your condoms), creampie (also don't do this), semi-public

Words: 2399

Summary: You have been working under Fyodor's orders for a while now. Unfortunately, that meant you were also arrested with him. He has a plan to escape, unlocking every lock in his way but the handcuffs that chain you together.

P.s. this is supposed to be set between Fyodor's arrest and his move to the high-security prison. It is a hypothetical situation.

Fyodor suddenly kneeled next to the iron door. The chain of the handcuffs connecting you was long, but not long enough to continue allowing you to stand. You fell to your knees next to him.

"What are you doing?", you said to him annoyed.

His hands were feeling the delicate mechanisms of the cell's lock. "I believe it is evident what I am doing, moya lyubov"

"I don't know what that means, and could you please just give me a warning next time?"

The silent click of the lock drew your attention. Fyodor let go of the iron bars and the door slid open.

"What the devil did you do?", you asked.

"I am tired of the view here", he said, "The lighting is wrong, the eyes too many and I am getting impatient"

"What are you-hey!", the chain pulled you towards him as he waltzed out of the small cell.

"Do not squabble so loud, moya lyubov, or you will draw the guards' attention sooner than I would prefer"

You opened your mouth to respond but no words were uttered. The fewer guards you encountered the fewer people would get hurt in the process and the cleaner your clothes would remain. Getting out was inevitable now that Fyodor had decided upon it, but getting out without encountering a soul would be a welcome bonus.

You stopped in front of a magnetically sealed door. Fyodor reached in his pocket and uncovered the piece of clear tape you had seen him stick on the iron food tray on lunch day. He had covered it with potato purree he had dried to powder. He pressed it on the fingerprint lock and in a few moments the light around it turned into the most beautiful green you had ever seen.

The door opened to reveal another long corridor. Fyodor moved ahead with ease, his mind probably already in possession of a detailed map of the prison's structure. Soon, he opened the door to a small guards' room, empty of its occupants. He locked the door behind him before he pulled the two of you to one of the lockers.

"Good, it will be much harder to be noticed if we blend in as part of their security", you tossed a guard's hat up and down with your spare hand.

"That is not what I require from this room, moya lyubov", he continued to search through the lockers one by one.

"No? But it would be useful", you said confused, "Oh, perhaps you can find a key for these cuffs, they tend to have the same ones per batch"

"Ah, here it is", he suddenly said. You thought he had answered your question until you saw him take out a pair of black gloves from the locker instead of a small silver key.

"Gloves?", you asked, "I'm sorry, but how is that going to help us get out?"

"It is not", Fyodor responded nonchalantly, "I do not wish to escape just yet".

"Then what-", your sentence was cut off as Fyodor collided your lips together. Your body recovered quickly from the initial shock and melted under his touch.

Touch; he was touching you! You had spent days bound to this man, years longing for him from afar, and yet all it took was a pair of borrowed gloves for him to play with all the strings of your heart like it was his cello. His kiss was rough and needy, devouring all of the words that he always left unsaid. A cold surface hit your back; the lockers. You twisted your body to get a better angle at him and he took the opportunity to cup your blushed hot cheek.

"What are you doing?", you breathed against his lips once he broke the kiss.

"I already told you", he said, "My patience has its limits. And when it comes to you, I'm afraid they fall quite short"

He kissed you again. This time his mouth trailed down your throat, tongue following the trail of your bones. He lodged his leg between your legs, his knee rubbing against your lower parts.

"Fyo...dor....", you sighed as his hands circled your nipples over the fabric of your prison uniform.

"I want you lisichka", he said, slowly peeling off the top of your blue jumpsuit, " I wanted you for years, I want you at this moment, and I will want you for all the moments and years to come". It was clear that his words were stalling for time, his grip loose enough for you to shake him away. "And if you don't push me away right now I'll take you right here and now, moya lyubov"

He dove to take one breast in his mouth, the other in his hand. Your head fell back as his knee continued to press on your clothed cunt. Your fingers clung to his slick black hair and pulled him closer, the chain scraping his pale cheek. Your hips jolted towards him at every touch of his. You guided the hand that was chained to yours down to the last of your jumpsuit's buttons and slipped both your hands underneath the uniform. He wasted no time in plunging two of his digits inside your walls. Your free hand gripped his shoulder as your body trembled underneath him. He had not done anything complicated, and yet he turned you on more than any other man. His presence was domineering, his touch loving and precise. Your juices were drenching his black glove as its roughness brushed over your silk walls.

He laughed over your skin. "I have to admit he quite surprised me when he tied us together with these", he said

"Why-"

He closed in enough so his free hand could lift the chain of your handcuffs to your lips. He placed the cold metal between your teeth, his thumb brushing the corner of your mouth.

"I have no intention of letting you know that", his lips attacked your shoulder. Your whines were muffled by the iron chain that hung from your teeth. Fyodor pushed his body onto yours, your bare back pressing down on the cold surface of the guards' lockers. "Unless you'd like to make a deal for it", he smiled. His thumb was dexterously playing with your bud, his teeth were lightly scraping your skin as he traced your collarbone, making you shiver. You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could utter a word Fyodor grabbed the falling chain and shoved it back in. He placed a soft puckery kiss over your sealed lips. "You can nod", he said.

He withdrew his hand from your lower lips and raised it to his mouth. He made a show of licking each finger with a snarky smile as his thumb traced circles on your left breast. He lightly scraped your torso from neck to waist with the back of his wet fingers before he kneeled down and buried his face in your cunt. He lifted one of your legs and placed it over his shoulder, his tongue reaching between your walls as his thumbs stretched their entrance. Your moan made the thin chain rattle. "Don't you drop it now, lisichka", Fyodor said as he kissed your bud, "I'll be very angry if you do that before the time comes".

He let his mouth water as he kissed your lower lips. His tongue once again plunged inside you. Your body trembled as he moaned for no other reason than to draw this exact reaction. "Let me let you in on my plan, lisichka", he said, his fingers taking the place of his tongue as he pumped them in and out of your body. "You will come on my hand and then I'll help you escape. But before that", he thrusted another finger into your hole, his other hand drawing circles quicker and quicker over your bud, "I'm gonna fuck you so hard I'll be the only thought in your mind until I get out myself"

One hand fell upon your asscheek, leaving behind a rosey imprint. The other reached inside you, searching for the sweet spot that would make the legs that squeezed him trembling and weak. His eyes were as sure as his fingers as they drove you closer and closer to the cliff of pleasure. Your writhed in his grasp but he only picked up the speed of his digits inside you. Your hand gripped his black hair as he spat on the hand which worked your clit. You could not see behind the white blur that clouded your eyes. The metal taste of the chain filled your mouth as you bit down harder, your body falling into the pits of euphoria.

Your vision was still white and you did not see him stand up. Suddenly he was in front of you, lulling the chain from your mouth and plunging his tongue inside in a deep kiss. There was a fire under the ice of his heart, like a sleeping volcano under the Russian glaciers. He turned you over. Your eyes were covered again. He let you taste yourself on his fingers before he returned them to your clit. He buried open kisses on your shoulder and nape as he pressed you against him. You could feel his painful bulge underneath his prison clothes.

"Say you want me", he breathed, "say you need me moya lyubov"

"Fyodor..."

"Ask me to fuck you", you could not see his smile and yet you knew it was there. His one hand moved to wrap around your torso, his other pulled out his cock and placed the tip on your entrance. "Tell me you want me inside you", he let his tip trace the lips of your folds.

"Fyodor....", you trembled. You pressed the lockers with your hands and pushed your body towards him, but he was good at keeping you at a distance. "Please", you heaved from need, "Please I need you inside me. I want you to fuck me. I can't take it any-"

He cut your sentence short. He plunged himself deep inside you. That hand that kept your eyes in the dark moved to cover your open mouth.

"Here's my deal lisichka:", he drew his length all the way out and thrusted back in. Your hand shot up to catch the locker as your body was jolted forwards. Fyodor softly played with your stray locks. You wiggled your hips, anything to get some friction, but he held you in place. His face seemed unbothered by the agony of the stillness between you. "You will hold until we come together", he said by your ear, "and I'll let you in on a secret"

His words came as a statement rather than a choice. Still, he waited until you nodded your head before he smiled and started to move. His thrusts were slow at first, his head fell back as if he was relishing the moment. He closed his eyes as if he wanted to isolate the sensation of the bond that bound the two of you.

"Do you know why they bound you to me?", his next thrust sent you forward. He picked up the pace, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling your ears. His hand still muffled your moans, so you could not respond even if he wanted you to. "I bet Dazai thought he would hobble me this way", he laughed, "Cause I'd be too concerned of using my ability on you by accident"

He grunted. You whined against his gloved hand. You could not control your breath anymore. Your heartbeat reverberated the beating of his body onto yours. He slipped his fingers into your mouth, your saliva dripping on the black leather.

"I wish I could fuck you like this in front of him", his voice was lost in the music of your bodies, "I wish he could see what a trifle his effort was"

He was saying that but his annoyance was clear. Whatever was the case, you could not help but bless Dazai as Fyodor sent you closer and closer to heaven. You felt the wetness of a tear running down your cheek. Your mind could not begin to process what was happening. You felt Fyodor's warmth as he pounded inside you, his hands wrapped around your naked body in the middle of a guards' room.

He changed his angle. The tip of his length kissed your cervix, your whine echoing around the walls. He removed his hand from your mouth and placed it on your hips, much like the other. He granted you a kiss on the side of your neck, his eyes searching for displeasure on your face. But there was none to be found. Your walls squeezed him tighter and he breathed heavily at the sensation. He grabbed your breast. He leaned in, close to your ear, and whispered, "You're squeezing me so tightly moya lyubov". He let his voice drop before he added in a grated tone, "Would you like me to make you mine?". He turned your body to the side, one of his hands holding up your leg. "Show me your face", he said, "I want to see it plead me to ruin you. That is the price of loving me"

Your mind was in a haze. One look at him was all it took to send it there. His words were coarse and domineering but his eyes were pleading for you like a man dying of thirst. He was drawing circles on your bud again, his thrusts quickening. He nipped on your ear as his warm essence filled you. You felt yourself let go, the knot in your stomach bursting and overflowing from your lower self. Your body trembled but he held you close to help you stand. He held your head and pulled you for a kiss.

"Good girl", he whispered against your lips, "Wait for me until we meet again. Whether that's in cuffs, or the end, or a life other than this one."

He pulled out and kissed you again, this time hugging your body from the front. He pulled a small metal needle-like object from his pocket and in a matter of moments your cuffs were unlocked. He placed his thumb on your lower lip, his face serious as ever.

"Wait for me to make you cum again", he said.

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

¹ moya lyubov = моя любовь = my love

² lisichka = Лисичка = Little fox

#fyodor dostoevsky #bsd fyodor #bsd x reader #bsd smut #fyodor x reader #fyodor smut

[azrielslightintheshadows]

Princess

Azriel x f!Reader

One of the series I’m currently working on. Enjoy!

Summary; Reader is Mor’s new friend that she found in the winter court while she was away for business. Y/n has been raised as a princess since her parents wanted to wed her to a noble fae in order to climb the social ranks. When her parents are brutally murdered y/n is left alone without a clue about the harsh reality or the brutality of the world. Mor finds her and takes her back to Velaris afraid of what might happen to her if she was left to live on her own. Will y/n survive the hate she will receive from certain members of the inner circle -including her mate- regarding the way she grew up?

Warnings; angst, mentions of abuse, trauma and death, swearing

Masterlist.

Princess Masterlist.

Chapter 10

“Please find me” you whispered and opened your side of the bond.

“Dillon, lord Murry wants to see all of us.” Another Illyrian said as he walked into the cell.

“Lucky bitch” Dillon snorted and followed the others. They locked the door of the cell and left.

He’ll find us. The shadow said and slithered around your wounded hands, the coldness made you sigh.

“I hope so” you whimpered and leaned back, your whole body was shaking by the pain but you didn’t want to seem weak by crying, so you closed your mouth and gritted your teeth.

They didn’t come back until the night and you could feel your wounds getting infected by the dirt of the chains. You sat straight when they walked inside and stared into Dillon’s eyes with a cold expression.

“Aw look at her, did the shadowsinger teach you how to behave in these situations? Are you trying to convince us that you are strong?” he mocked you.

“I am strong.” You growled and felt something icy running through your blood, you knew what it was, it had happened again when you were younger, but your mother placed wards around you and told you to never speak about it again.

“I wasn’t trying to convince you before…” you spat “Now I will”.

And with that you let a scream that trembled the ground, your eyes flashed white, and the temperature dropped. You watched as ice spikes pierced their skin and sent them flying backwards. Both hit their heads on the wall and fell on the ground, blood started pooling around them and the shocked expressions remained on their pale and cold faces.

“What the fuck?” another one gasped when he entered your cell. “That bitch has powers” he yelled and drew his sword. You stared at his feet where darkness started flowing into the cell and the familiar scent of cedar and whiskey filled your nostrils making you smirk at him. The Illyrian moved closer and opened his mouth to threaten you again but instead of his tongue and teeth you were met with the tip of a dagger, drops of blood dropped on your cheek and the Illyrian knelt, his own blood choking him and you watched as the life faded from his eyes. Azriel was standing behind him, Truth-Teller in hand and the promise of death in his eyes. You noticed his shadows darting out of the room and heard screams.

“What did they do to you?” Azriel cried out when he noticed your hands and immediately took the chains off.

“Infected, fever” you mumbled before letting the darkness engulf you.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“Help me” Azriel screamed as he landed on the balcony of the house of wind. Rhysand already knew you were coming and had winnowed Madja in. Your mate placed you on your bed and Madja immediately started working on you.

“What happened?” Rhys asked.

“Some Illyrian’s had her, they though I was the one burning their camps and they burned her hands to take revenge.” Azriel sobbed and pulled his hair.

“Calm down brother.” Rhys said.

“No! Look what they did… look how they sullied a delicate creature. Look what they did to my princess.” He was panting as he spoke, all the pain he felt when he was a kid came back and his hands started twitching just like they used to.

Rhysand tried to hug him but the shadowsinger flinched and quickly came to your side.

“Please” he told Madja and she nodded.

When Madja finished she gathered her stuff and looked at Rhysand.

“She escaped death, her hands will heal in a few weeks but I’m afraid the scars won’t fade. I will come to check on her tomorrow and I will make her an ointment to help with the healing.” She informed him and he nodded.

“Is there a way to make the scars disappear?” Azriel asked and Madja turned to look at him. Her eyes moved from his face to his hands and then back again and she sighed.

“I’m sorry” she shook her head.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You groaned and opened your eyes, the familiar ceiling of your room was the first thing you saw and you sighed in relief. It wasn’t a dream, he really found me. You thought.

You stirred a bit and felt something moving next to you. Azriel was sitting on a chair next to your bed with his head pressed onto the mattress next to your bandaged hand.

“Azriel” you croaked, and he jumped on his feet.

“Cauldron, you’re awake!” he gasped and scanned your face. “What do you need?” he asked.

“Water”

A glass appeared next to your bed and Azriel quickly brought it to your dry lips. You gulped down the water and coughed.

“I’m so so sorry” he whispered, and some tears escaped from his eyes. “That’s why I didn’t want you to be my mate.” “Its not your fault, they decided to take me,and I am the reason Clover knew about the mating bond.” You said softly.

“Clover?” Azriel furrowed his eyebrows.

“Yes Aeden’s brother, the other bartender” you explained.

“I know who he is. What did he do?” he growled, and you paled, he didn’t know.

“He brought them to me” you confessed, not in the mood for a fight.

Azriel turned to leave.

“Don’t!” you tried to get up and hissed when your hand rubbed against the mattress.

“Stay on the bed.” He said and approached you again, fixing the pillows around you to make you more comfortable.

“Why did you burn the camps?” you asked him.

“I didn’t… I don’t know who did, but I will find out.”

“They were sure that it was you.” you stared at him.

“I didn’t burn the camps.” He stared back.

“Okay, please don’t do anything to Clover, I will handle him when I feel better.” He nodded. “You can leave now” you continued.

“When you feel better, we can go to a priestess and reject the bond.” He informed you. Your eyes widened and your heart skipped a beat.

“Listen, I know how the healing process goes and I really think it’s best if you let me help you, it will be easier this way. When your hands are healed, we will go to a priestess and reject the bond and I won’t bother you again” his voice broke towards the end.

“Is it true that some males go mad after rejecting the bond?” you asked him.

“Don’t worry about it, you will be free” he mumbled and walked to the door. The small shadow friend you made stayed on the bed with you and Azriel stared at it.

“Come here” you whispered, and it darted to your shoulder.

“I don’t want to reject the bond if it’ll affect you so much, we can break it” you told him.

He shook his head. “If you need something send the shadow to get me” and with that he was gone.

You blamed him for everything that happened to you but when you saw him so broken you couldn’t say anything and the words that escaped from your mouth made your heart clench as you realized that it was your fault indeed. Azriel had kept the mating bond hidden from everyone because he knew this could happen but you? You told everyone about it including two strangers. Did Aeden know what his brother was planning to do? Did he tell you to leave his house to make it easier for them? You felt nauseous at the thought.

And Azriel? He seemed so broken. You didn’t know how to feel about rejecting the bond, even though he treated you like shit from the moment you came to the night court, you didn’t want to make him go mad.

You stared at you bandaged hands and sighed, the pain was bearable now and you didn’t really mind the scars if you could still use your hands. Those scars felt liberating, you aren't the perfect lady your parents tried to create anymore. Those scars showed that you are strong and imperfect. The weight you always carried on your shoulders by trying to be perfect for everyone else was suddenly lifted. It still made your heart ache because you knew they would be ugly but they would make you look dangerous in battle and you could always wear gloves in social events.

You glanced at the small shadow by your side.

“Shadow, scarred hands… maybe I will become the new shadowsinger” you said, and the shadows nudged your shoulder.

“I will call you Claude” you said, and it hissed. “Oh come on I thought we were friends”. It rested on your shoulder again and you smiled.

The door opened and Nesta walked in.

“Hey” she smiled and sat next to you.

“Hi” you smiled back and made more space for her.

“I wanted to apologize” she said.

“Why?” you quirked a brow.

“Because I didn’t know that Azriel was your mate and I told you about Gwyn and then took her side.” She avoided your gaze.

“It’s okay.” You replied and lifted your hand to caress her shoulder but hissed by the pain.

Nesta stayed by your side for the rest of the day and read some of her favorite books, making your face flush at the smutty scenes.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

 Two days passed and Madja finally took off the bandages making you gag at the sight of the burnt flesh.

“Don’t worry it will heal” she offered you a sad smile. “You have to put this ointment on them and then do these exercises. You have to train them again if you want them to faction like before. When the wounds are healed, I will show you how to massage them in order to release the pressure from the muscles.”

“Thank you” you said and watched how she moved her hands to show you the exercises.

When she left the room Azriel walked inside. “Hey how are you?” he asked, and you hid your hands under the duvet making him frown.

“Better” you mumbled.

He walked to the side of the bed and grabbed the container of the ointment.

“May I?” he asked you.

You watched his scarred hands opening the container and felt more comfortable. You gave him your hands and his breath hitched. You watched him as he carefully applied the ointment, his eyes watering.

“I have to do some exercises” you informed him.

“Okay we will do them together.” He spoke.

He watched as you tried to close your fist. You whimpered because of the pain and stopped.

“Good” Azriel praised you.

“But I didn’t do it” you said and tried again.

“You need time. You’ll get closer each day.” He said and showed you his fist. “Trust me it takes time.”

Azriel came to your room every day to apply the ointment and help you with the exercises. He cheered every time you managed to do the exercise and praised you when you failed. He always left when someone else came to see you or when you finished practicing the gestures except for one night. That night you broke down, and he held you as you cried, whispering that everything is going to be okay and promising to keep you safe until you returned to training.

Over the time he became your rock and his visits the best parts of your days. You couldn’t forgive him for the past, but you felt ready to give him a chance to become your friend.

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#acotar #acotar series #azriel #acotar fanfiction #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel acotar #a court of thorns and roses #acosf #acotar fic #acowar #acomaf #rhysand