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fatesundress · 1 year

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⭑ observations ii. tom riddle x reader

part i here.

summary. two weeks after your last encounter with tom shatters all of your previous observations, tensions are high, and eventually, something's gotta give. (it's tom. he’s giving head)

tags. smut (so. so much. minors BE GONE TO WHENCE YOU CAME!), fem anatomy + reader is referred to as a woman by someone, fingering, cunnilingus, piv, again implied tall!tom or short!reader (take it however you prefer), jealous tom does not understand friendship but then again neither does reader apparently, a little wine is had, the room of requirement is used shamelessly as a plot device, did i mention smut, i’ve lost my mind etc etc.

note. this is a part two, so go ahead and read the first part and come back if you'd like :) obligatory preface: it's safe to assume any smut i write within hogwarts is a university au — these people are all 18+ tyvm. also woahh was not expecting the love on my last post so thank you! i'm still trying to figure this whole acc out so support, questions, (requests? never done those before) anything is appreciated ♡

word count. 6.3k

The next two weeks are agony. You don’t, in fact, stop meeting with Godefrey to study, because you do, in fact, still need a good mark in Ancient Runes and for all his faults he can reach the tallest shelves and he’s a faster writer than you. Also, Tom Riddle is fantastic with his hands but this does not make him God.

You find pureblood politics a bit archaic. You find muggle courting a bit stifling. This leaves very little space for what took place between you and Tom in the middle of a corridor two weeks ago (you can’t stop wincing at how insane that sounds) and very little patience for his utterly original and not-at-all entitled request that you halt your studies with Godefrey. Godefrey doesn’t stick his hands up your skirts while the two of you are studying, doesn’t silence your gasps with a shush and a finger to your mouth, doesn’t — wouldn’t (you’re so imaginative when you want to be) — tell you to keep reading as his thumb draws circles between your legs, tell you to repeat the words that get caught in your throat, tell you how much he likes it when your eyes go dumb and glassy and all you can say is his name. So, really, Tom should have nothing to worry about.

“I swear,” Selwyn says, picking at a plate you don’t think she’s actually eaten anything off with how distracted she is, “he’s looked over here at least three times.”

You don’t dare glance at who you know she’s talking about. “You’re obsessed.”

Pot. Kettle. Whatever.

“Are you sure you didn’t do something to upset him in Potions? Didn’t botch something that might mar his perfect record?”

You flick her forehead and she scowls. “I’m not an idiot, Selwyn. I handle myself just as well in Potions as he does — he wouldn’t —” Wouldn’t have complimented your rapport if that weren’t true, wouldn’t have said you communicate efficiently, make a good pair, probably wouldn’t have — fingered you in the hallway? — yes, that too. Slipped your mind. So easy to forget.

You take a long exhale, and smile impassively at her. “I didn’t botch anything, trust me.”

She finally takes a bite of food. “Maybe I did something…”

And then she’s lost in thought again, eating now, at least, and you shake your head softly as you watch what are likely a million different theories flitting through her head.

“Morning,” Tom says to you when you enter Potions after breakfast, a delicate smile tugging at his lips.

You have, of course, trained for this.

It’s your fifth — sixth? — time sharing a table with him since that night and it is somehow easier by nature and harder by anticipation (of what, you have no idea) every time. The first was terrible. Unsalvageable and without a silver lining. It had taken almost an hour that morning to charm the violent hues of red and purple spanning the column of your throat, and ultimately, the marks were so persistent you’d forgone the glamours and decided to just wear a turtleneck. You’d been fortunate it was completely inconspicuous to wear such a thing in December, but that was about all there’d been to be grateful for. You hadn’t been able to look at Tom all class and his hand had brushed yours once to take a phial from you and you’d flinched so sharply it would have shattered on the floor if he hadn’t caught it. And he’d smiled, like he’s smiling now, a soft, “Careful,” that honestly, for a short moment, made you want him dead.

Now you could speak just fine, look him in the eyes in practised intervals, and almost, impressively, make articulate conversation with him again. Make stupid comments about Slughorn and Lestrange and bear the weight of his grin knowing it was there for you.

His, he’d called you. A very funny thing.

“Morning,” you answer on a smiling sigh, sleepy but jovial all the same.

You deserve applause for this.

“Tired?”

“Mhm — Essays for Ancient Runes are due Friday and it’s been keeping us up all night.”

His eyes flash with something you’ve yet to ascertain. Your research has been put temporarily on hold, scattered and splintered by the revelation that your first observation was, admittedly, a little bit off, and you have no means of figuring out a look like that when you can’t even begin to figure out anything else.

“Has it?” he asks, a tinge less friendly.

“Well,” you say, grinding the lacewing flies, “that’s commonplace, isn’t it? You take all sorts of advanced classes, I’m sure you understand the work it takes.”

“...Hm.”

That’s it. That’s all you get from him.

And if Selwyn’s concern over you botching your work in Potions wasn’t already, obviously dispelled, the glee on Slughorn’s face as he assesses your and Tom’s cauldron should do it.

“Brilliant! Just brilliant!” He claps a hand over Tom’s back, regarding you both with pride so thick it clouds his eyes, like he's drifted into a revery of the future (you and Tom, you expect, are his most prized graduates, making history under his name, proving his immense wisdom) before he appears to return to Earth. “Ten points between the two of you, hm? Very, very good — though, of course, no surprises there!”

He chuckles to himself as he evaluates the other students, and you catch a horrified wheeze of Godefrey’s name (bless his heart) as one of the cauldrons in the back begins to sputter and froth.

You look to Tom with some droll little comment at making it to the end of term with top marks, but his gaze is burning into Godefrey’s table in such a way you wouldn’t be surprised if it was what was causing his cauldron to boil.

Well. Perhaps not, then.

You and Godefrey hand in your essay that Friday with more relief than apprehension — you both decide it’s quite good — and you laugh loudly and breathlessly as he picks you up and thanks you a thousand times, spinning you until you’re dizzy. You refrain from making any promises to attend his Quidditch games, but he vows to let you have the snitch he catches.

And Slughorn, you come to find, was not exaggerating his elation at your skill. After trotting after you on your walk back from Ancient Runes to invite you to the last Slug Club dinner of the year, your spirits are high with the blissful satisfaction of a job well done and a night to celebrate it with.

You can breathe, finally, when it’s the last week of school before Christmas break and Selwyn’s zipping the back of a last-minute dress you purchased in Hogsmeade.

“Gorgeous,” Selwyn says with a grin. “Wish this school would have a bloody ball so I could really dress you up.”

“Buy a doll, Selwyn; you can dress them however you like.”

“You are such a —”

You burst into laugher, swatting her wand away as she pokes your side with it.

“Just — go then, before I hex you.”

“All right, all right!” you concede, arms raised in surrender. “Don’t ruin all your hard work now.”

“Oh,” she calls on your way out the door. You turn and there’s a mischievous look in her eyes as she tucks her wand back in her pocket. “And do tell me before I leave tomorrow if Riddle stares at you all night.”

You groan as if it’s a truly abominable thing to imagine. Riddle, staring with those dark eyes of his? You, the centre of his attention? Ghastly. You daresay you’d never recover from the horror of it.

“Don’t leave before I tell you how remarkably uneventful a night it was,” you say with a sidelong glare, and leave before she can edge in the final word.

You have no idea what a Slug Club supper typically consists of, but you imagine for Christmas he’s gone a little further with his festivities. His office is glittering in hues of green and red and fleecy, snow-dappled gold. The lights overheard (some similar charm to the one in the Great Hall but a tad less complex, you think) drip and then vanish into the air like squeezed berries, and the berries — served with pastries and ice cream — taste like they must be enchanted with something.

Selwyn was right that the standard dress isn’t quite formal enough for a ball, but it’s… formal. The boys are in clean-cut dress robes and the girls are in fine gowns of different lengths. By the overwhelming number of them you recall being archetypes of Slytherin pureblood fanaticism, it makes sense how expensive they all look. You yourself brush up nicely, if not a bit more frugally, but you haven’t been to an event like this at the school yet, and that’s exciting on its own.

It’s another degree of training (is there going to be a marathon? Are you at war?), a step up from your preparations before Potions every other day, to be ready when Tom Riddle enters the room a respectable five minutes late with a gleam about him more captivating than any of the lights.

“Ah, Tom!” Slughorn exclaims, and ushers him into a seat you remark before Tom is even in it is discomfitingly near to yours. “We’re all here at last… Supper, then? Hope you aren’t too full already, I’ve got the House Elves running laps!”

You’re spared Tom’s closeness by a Ravenclaw couple sat in the chairs between you, their hands clasped under the table while they sip wine from their goblets, and you only realise the length of your observation when Tom glances at you from the spot over, and you startle yourself into reaching for your own goblet and pretending to enjoy Slughorn’s bitter wine.

You eat. You listen to cluttered, unending tales of Slughorn’s time at school and how he earned his post. You drink, and then you regret not drinking before eating because there’s only a very light, very nice buzz that warms you when you finish your cup, and the Ravenclaw couple is — oh, wait, it isn’t just them — they’re standing up to dance as a gramophone sparks to life and a low, dulcet instrumental begins to play. There are now two notably empty seats separating you from Tom.

What had you said this night would be? Blissful satisfaction?

You couldn’t blame Selwyn for suggesting you’d blundered Potions — you didn’t feel exceptionally smart right now.

“I didn’t know you would be here tonight,” Tom says, pulling the chair beside you.

Where is the bottle of wine? No. Nevermind. You behave regrettably enough sober.

You manage a simple, “And yet.”

“...And yet.” His lips quirk before he takes a drink from his goblet.

You lament for a second that you’ve only actually kissed those lips once. They spent a great deal longer on your neck.

“Will you be here over break?” he asks, and it isn’t an unreasonable thing to ask, you suppose.

“I think so. Why?”

“I’d like to know whether to expect you or not.”

Expect you… No, yes — revert to observation two: unusual is not an apt enough word for him.

It takes you a moment to conjure a response befitting polite dinner conversation. That is, after all, still what this is.

“I suppose you can. I’ll be busy, of course.”

Well, you didn’t say you conjured something good. It’s a big fat lie. Placating, vague, empty. And you suspect Tom knows that.

“Pity.”

Yes, he knows. He’s all quiet amusement again.

You stare off, satisfied to be left alone —

"And what is it that'll be taking so much of your time?"

“Well, I'm —” And now you have to build the lie — “I’ve told Godefrey I’ll attend to his Quidditch practise. Since the pitch isn’t in use.”

God, it’s so stupid it’s almost impressive — you don’t even know if Godefrey will be here over break, and you could have chosen any number of excuses that would pique Tom’s interest less than it’s apparently consistently piqued by the mention of your study partner.

There’s that strange, indecipherable look again. Riddle is a perfect surname for him, you decide then, and you almost laugh at yourself for it, but that would probably not go over well should he ask what’s so funny.

“Have you, now? That’s very kind of you.”

“It’s hardly charity.”

“Hm, it’s kind of you to think so.”

You huff, tipping your goblet back to swallow the last meagre dregs of your wine.

“You look lovely.”

It’s just a little bit — just a tiny, straggling little bit of elderflower that captures your throat — and you cough into your goblet. “Thank — thank you.”

And, well, he looks lovely too. Obviously. Sickeningly so. You know little about his personal life but you’re positive he’s at least a half-blood, if not muggle-born, and it makes you wonder the influence of his renownedly plain black suit in a crowd of neat, long robes.

He manages with little effort to look better than all of them at their best.

His eyes drift over you appreciatively, quick enough not to be rude but — enough. (Enough that you daresay you might never recover from the horror of it.) You adjust under his gaze even when it’s situated on your face, far too heavy a thing for you to carry. “Does Godefrey call you lovely?”

What?

You blink at him, your mouth is probably open and you probably look stupid but he’s so… irritating. Yes, of course Godefrey calls you lovely. Godefrey tells you you’re the smartest woman he’s ever met (after his mother), and he drowns you with sherbet lemons at no cost, and he writes at the speed of light to match the quickness with which you recite your textbook, and none of it means anything. Tom is just —

“Unbelievable…”

He quirks a brow. “What was that?”

“I said you’re unbelievable, Riddle. Is it impossible for you to comprehend that I might have friends? That Godefrey is my friend?”

“Well, memory serves me right that you seemed a bit confused on the conventions of friendship last you mentioned it. Do forgive my uncertainty.”

He — that was —

“Well, that’s because we are not friends.”

“No.” He leans in. “We are not.”

You push your chair from the table with all the grace you can manage for such an abrupt thing: a tight, impersonal smile on your face as you walk away and approach Slughorn, only realising when you get there that your empty goblet is clutched in your hand like you’re trying to strangle it.

Whatever he sees on your face, he isn’t drunk enough not to frown at. “Ah, our newest gem — hardly seen you all night! Not leaving already, are we?”

You glance at the clock. It isn’t as though you’re being impolite by abandoning his party in the middle of the event. It’s quite late, the servers are stuck to the walls with little to do, and most of the room has divided into waltzing pairs.

“I’m taking my friend to the train station tomorrow, sir. Unfortunately I need to be up quite early.”

Yes, yes, it’s all so tragic. You’re depressed to go.

“Such a shame,” Slughorn frets, wobbling a tad and balancing himself on the wall. “You’ll be all right getting back? Not at all dizzy, are you?” His laugh is cleaved by a loud hiccough, and then he laughs even more. “My, well, I myself will need to be carried!”

“...I’ll be fine, sir. Thank you.”

“Oh, no trouble at all — there’s — hm… ah, Tom!”

No, no — is it bad you almost reach over and slap your palm over your professor’s mouth? Is it at all impressive that you don’t? You should look on the bright side in moments like these. You should admire your restraint.

But of course, Slughorn’s eyes don’t fall upon Tom for nothing. He's halfway across the room already, and Slughorn must have spotted him approaching to achieve this brilliant solution. “Tom can escort you back, no?”

Tom (unforgivably) is beside you now, a very mean, very pretty smile on his face.

“Not too much to ask, I should think? You know the castle best. Head Boy — sometimes I still can’t believe it!”

You look up at Tom and your jaw is clenched where you’ve since put down your goblet. There is too much tension in you to know what to do with, and he looks positively thrilled.

“It’s hardly charity, sir.” He holds out his arm.

You wonder what spell would catch him most off-guard if you were to blast him in the face right now.

Slughorn claps his hands together. “Ha! Yes, well… perfect, then! Off now, the two of you, off now. Do have a good — ” He hiccoughs again — “rest!”

You don’t even bother the diplomacy of smiling at Slughorn as your arm loops through Tom’s and you’re exiting the party.

Neither of you say a word on the journey, and that’s very well.

If you could just get back to bed without speaking to him you may still consider it a good night. You may be able to push his strangeness and his entitlement and the annoying way his hair falls to another day, when he pesters you about Godefrey’s nonexistent Quidditch practise, which — come to think of it — you do think he told you he'd be headed home for the holidays. You really fumbled that one.

And then Tom’s thumb is brushing the bare skin of your arm and your walk stutters a bit. But he doesn’t mention it, and so neither do you.

And then he’s drawing down your elbow to your forearm so softly it almost feels like he isn’t touching you at all. He doesn’t mention it. Neither do you.

And then your arm, without really meaning for it to, is slipping from his and his hand is holding yours instead, feather-light as his fingers clasp yours and your breath is not the same as it was when you left.

He doesn’t mention it. He just keeps going.

His fingers work back up your arm and you shiver as they drag across your shoulder, gaze searing your neck as the soft digits find their way to your jaw, and you get the sense he’s remembering just how much he liked the taste of it, and you’re… you’re allowing it all again. You’re leaning in, you’re seeking him out, you want him flush against you and even that might not be satisfactory.

You are, in the end, a half-decent observer and a terrible liar.

You’re grabbing his hand with a small amount of direction and a great deal of meaning. You suppose it's because, historically, you’ve proven to have trouble with words in moments like these, and you don’t really know where you’re taking him but god, you know where you want him. Somewhere soft, this time, thick enough that you can fist your hands around it and melt. Somewhere he can hover over you, maybe hold you down a little, just until — maybe, miraculously — you might make him break a little too. Clamber over his lap. Make him yours.

“Tom,” you mouth, some question in the way your eyebrows knit.

The moment you say his name — the instant — he’s pulling you in, crushing his mouth against yours. And, ah, right, that’s what his lips feel like. You’d almost forgotten.

This kiss is not chaste, hardly tender. It resists in that it asks you to push, to plead, to take this for yourself to prove how badly you want it, and he smiles into it when you do. And then, sated by your efforts, he lets you have him. You’re gripping the collar of his suit in your hands as his wander appreciatively over the back of your dress, pulling you into him as the kiss deepens. He’s savouring you like you’re something religious that’s been offered to him, and there’s the taste of wine on his tongue and you’re still here, aware enough that the symbolism isn’t lost on you.

“I've been thinking," he says between kisses, “about the way you felt when I touched you. I've been thinking about how long it might take before you need it again."

You gasp at the sensation, and god, god, you've been wondering too, haven't you?

You’re pulling him impossibly closer and something hard is pressing into your hip and you clutch tighter onto his shirt as you moan into his mouth. You need it off, you think, and — has your dress been clinging to you like this all night? You need that off too. You need skin on skin. You careen him backwards without aim, your mind a muddled mess of all the many things your body is screaming it needs, like this is fucking imperative; to give it up would be catastrophic.

You suppose, based on what you’ve read, that that’s how the Room of Requirement works, but it’s still funny to think it would apply to this.

It hurts to remove yourself from him to watch in dumb awe as the door forms in the stone (to see the dark, languid shape of his eyes bearing down on you, the wet, stained pink of his lips), and Tom seems to recover from the revelation much faster than you.

His mouth is on yours once more, a hungry kiss; his free hand at your waist, guiding you through the door and shutting it carelessly behind him.

He’s like fire against you, radiating as he presses down on you, his hand tangled in your hair and his hips flush against yours. You shiver as his mouth starts to move down (a cheap trick — he hasn’t forgotten how much you liked it the last time) from your jaw to your throat, as his lips trail down your chest and you're shivering into the warmth of him.

You’ve heard it said before, in some romantic sense, that it’s sometimes hard to tell where you end and someone else begins.

This is not like that.

You've never been more aware of anything than the point where you and him meet.

You’re tugging at him blindly again, trusting in the nature of the Room like this isn't the first time you've been in it, and then you're stumbling down onto a bed you're quite sure wasn't there a moment ago (people say magic is a neutral force but evidently this is not the fucking case), fingers carding through Tom's hair as his body pins you into the mattress.

His mouth is molten hot as you squirm and pant beneath him, your breath coming faster than it ever has. Everything feels sharper and deeper and more intense under his touch, every sensation heightened until it's almost impossible to tell pleasure from pain, his tongue from his teeth.

How did it take you this long to do this again? To need him like this?

And his — you should really have the mind to see the mistake in all of this but perhaps that's for later — his fingers are pulling your sleeves down, propping your back to arch as he reaches under you to unzip your dress, apparently too impatient to sit you up and take it off properly so he just bunches it around your waist instead. There’s a moment where he stops to look at you, your chest exposed to him in the dim sconce-light, and then his mouth returns to circle your breast and you're biting down on a pillow to hold back the whimpering gasp that seeks to escape you. He hums around your flesh, and then he’s at your sternum, kissing a stripe to your belly button before pushing past the dress he's left ringed around your abdomen.

You shimmy under the weight of him to prop your head up — to see past the mass of silk that obscures his face from you as moves lower and lower, hands spanning your hips to keep you still.

His face hovers above your thighs, and he doesn’t move.

“Did you enjoy my fingers?" he asks.

At that you freeze, thighs pressing together to bury the hand that's rising between them.

Tom smiles. “Hm, you did."

And then he spreads your legs apart, one hand pushing your underwear aside and regarding you with delicate, shameless appetite — something that might even be adoration: like this is all he ever wanted you to want.

“Do you think you'd enjoy my mouth, too?"

Words are gone. There's nothing left in you.

His head moves happily between your knees, holding them apart, pressing kisses to the base of your thighs. Your hands flail from the sheets, desperate to grip something else and you hold back a sound that feels like irritation and need at the same time. You need him closer, higher than this. He knows. You can feel his smile biting into your skin.

And then you manage a nod though you're not even sure he's looking at your face anymore (and what a picture to imagine he is) and you worry momentarily it won’t be enough for him — that he’ll ask you to be nice and say it out loud for him — but he hums with something merciful, and — his chin dips. You catch the smallest glimpse of his tongue before it’s on you, wet and slow and unrelenting and you say his name, but it’s a mewl; you choke on it. It sounds like a cry.

Pitiful, needy, undone. Just how he wants you.

You think all efforts to remain even remotely composed are thrown to the wind as soon as his tongue is lapping at you, fast and then slow, everything you want and not even remotely close. He sinks all his weight down as if he can predict the moment you'll writhe before you do — and you do. And with his grip he tells you to endure it. You only need him to say it with his hands and his mouth but he breathes back, licking his lips and he actually says it. “Be good.”

That makes your breath hitch and your cheeks swell impossibly hotter, and reality is a small glint in your peripheral where everything else is burning red. “Y-you’re—”

His mouth returns to you, tongue catching your clit in a drawn-out, agonising motion, and you gasp and lurch forward to inch through the sensation, craving more, more, more. Reason is lost on you, a throbbing familiarity forcing you to grind your teeth down on the pillow to stop yourself from telling him to — you don’t even know. Finish you. Abandon all reluctance. Just let you come as hard as you know he wants you to.

But he pauses, observant as he starts to work his fingers against you. Watching how your slick coats them like it’s the most enthralling sight he’s ever witnessed. Slowly, ever so slowly, he starts to push one inside of you, hearing your breath catch above him and the moan that comes tumbling out of your throat, pillow be damned.

You do your best to breathe through it, and you know he knows how to make you unfold like this, so the meticulous lightness of his ministrations tells you he’s trying to keep it from you now. You’re almost embarrassed about the fact that you’re dripping onto his hand regardless; his lips puffy, his gaze unnervingly, dizzyingly carving you in two.

“Just,” you rasp, clutching desperately at his wrist. “Tom, please.”

Your begging must be music to his ears. (It’s a rare, unplanned fifth observation: that you think he’ll never get tired of hearing you say his name like that.)

He adds a finger. It’s encircling you, first, and no amount of restraint can stop the harsh gasp that leaves you, but then it’s his tongue and two fingers and he’s pushing into you how you wanted, and he makes a pleased sound against you, gripping you tighter with his free hand, still not allowing you movement and fuck, are you trying. What you're feeling now — the need, the want, everything — is more than rational thought. Your mind goes blank, and all that matters is this, him, right here and now; nothing else exists, not even for a second. You moan, a low, throaty noise that's a little too loud, a little too intense; you can't recall if anything has ever come from you quite like it and Tom devours you at the sound.

More, you agree; it's almost an obsession in you now; more, more, please, anything and everything.

It’s the precision of his touch — not some bored, hurried transgression — that brings your hands helplessly to his hair.

“Tom,” you whine, holding him tight, and the purr of his mouth finding you again is something destructive.

As soon as you feel another swell of something deep down, your mouth is dropping open.

His tongue is sliding through you, fingers curling, and then your clit is in his mouth, and he’s watching you between your thighs as your eyes clench shut, and you’re coming.

Your voice breaks somewhere in the catastrophe of it. Your body spasms, electric down to every atom, and he pins you down through it. He doesn’t grant you the reprieve of escaping the frenzied, glorious torture of it. His mouth still lingers. His tongue moves thankful and unrelenting.

He takes all of you, and you think this is destruction — creation — both. How terrifyingly similar they suddenly feel.

His lips are swollen and slick when he finally detaches them from you and you want to kiss him, but he’s leaning back to admire his work. You swallow, unable to blame him for it because you look down at yourself and — this is something else. You’re dripping down his chin. You're shaking. Your legs are still clenching around his torso. They’re holding him so tight you can’t imagine it doesn’t hurt.

But he just rolls off of you. Adjusts his trousers and your abdomen flutters and you think, don’t.

You don’t even realise you’re reaching for him until your hand is around his wrist and you’re still fucking sighing through the come-down, panting into the hot air.

He presses a kiss to your forehead, fingers damp on your chin as he holds you. You make a note that that’s the second time he’s done that. That you thought it was strangely intimate the first time and nothing’s changed other than how much more you like it.

And it doesn’t really feel like you can help it but crawl with gooey, trembling legs onto his lap. Doesn’t feel like you can help it when you lean in and capture his lips with yours, moan unabashedly into his mouth at the stiffness that presses against your core when you do, steal his tongue and the taste of you on it.

When he pulls away he’s looking at you like he doesn’t think you can actually do this. Like you’d just crumble the moment you tried.

A low, determined protest rises in your throat and you’re kissing him again. You’re unbuttoning his dress shirt, you’re trembling to reach for his trousers.

When you can finally shrug his shirt off, press yourself against him, feel that skin on skin you wanted so badly, you find it somehow even more suffocating than its absence. You’re left wanting a more you aren’t able to even conceptualise, but you’re grinding involuntarily against him and his teeth are scraping your neck and he's hissing at the sensation, and — yes, there’s more.

Your breath is staggered when your hips stutter into a roll and you — fuck. You’re tugging desperately to remove his belt and he smiles against your throat as he takes your hands and guides them to him. You can feel his bulge against your thigh and you’re spreading your legs to usher him where you want, clawing at his chest without even meaning to.

Tom’s taking off his belt, and he’s pulling down his trousers just enough to bare himself to you, and maybe he’s right that you can’t manage it yourself but he stops his assistance like the intrigue of finding out is too good to resist. There's something both intimate and imperious, in a way, about the way he's looking at you now; it's a kind of focus and intensity and withheld hunger just for you; and you're more than happy to give yourself over to it, to let his hands and his eyes and his mouth claim you for his own. To claim him for yours, at last.

You do. You struggle for it. He’s very patient.

But then it’s there — more — as you finally sink down on him and bite his shoulder and he shudders a low, pained exhale, his hands clutching your waist.

There’s a silent, suspended moment where neither of you move. The room feels entirely still.

Your lips quiver over his pulse, and your stomach flips at the intensity of it, the undeniable rate of his desire beneath you. You smile against him now, like he always does to you, conscious enough to mumble into his neck, “Mine.”

Tom stutters inside you, fingers gripping you impossible tighter as you dare to think he even gasps. You dare to think he likes it.

And then one of his hands grabs your jaw and his kiss is searing. He thrusts upward and you cry into his mouth, searching to match his pace in a way that you appreciate, for once, he seems unlearned in.

It’s all a bit messy, a bit new, palms in fists, in skin, in hair, digging for every part they haven’t already taken from. The sound in the back of Tom’s throat is divine, the feeling of him inside you as he slips his hand back between your legs — like he needs everything, like he knows you do too — it’s ineffable. It coils somewhere deep, touches something you didn’t know existed. Your hips are rotating, thighs still soft and slack from coming apart on his tongue, but you’re determined. It feels like finding even ground. It feels like something you deserve: to make him feel how you did.

Your head rolls back, eyes pinching shut in bliss, but Tom is there at your jaw again, forcing your blurry gaze back to him.

His hips are inching even further, the intensity of his pace as he adjusts to you making you dizzy. You think, realistically, there’s sound coming out of you, but you aren’t entirely sure when it’s so close to him, when your mouth is between his fingers and your ears are ringing and he’s looking at you like you’re made for him.

“Mine.” And it isn’t a dismissal of your own claim but a confirmation that one will not be without the other. His voice is raw and breathy and something about the way he says it makes you contract inadvertently around him, hands swatting his chest like they don’t know what else to do. There’s just too much.

You recognize you’re trying to say something. Some plea, a moan, his name (is there anything else left?), but you’re just babbling into his mouth and he holds you there. He doesn’t kiss you. It’s your failing words against his lips. He swallows whatever syllables try to shape them.

It’s there again when you need it most; the heavy, swirling feeling inside you as he snaps his hips, his fingers returning to your waist with punishing firmness. His breathing accelerates, low in his throat, and you push harder against him. Your vision is gone again, head held in his hands to keep from rolling back so that, you suspect, he can watch defeat split you down the middle again — not over your shoulder, not with his head between your legs — with his eyes on yours, with every broken moan you let out so close to his face he can feel the breath of each one.

You’re grappling desperately at skin that doesn’t feel like enough, even though he’s rocking inside you, and you see the insanity of it, you see that it isn’t logical. Too much and not enough at once — you’re smart enough to know that doesn’t work, but it just is.

“Please,” you manage in a voice you don’t recognize. “Please, Tom, pleasepleaseplease —”

Had you said before it was foolish to call him forgiving? You take it back. He’s very eager to oblige you.

He finds some place inside of you and you don’t know quite what it is that he changes but it's new, uncharted, and you break there. You dissolve. You’re liquid in his hands as you sob, stuttering around him, trembling like you didn’t know was possible, and you swear — you swear you’re going to take him there with you. It isn’t that you could stop yourself if you tried but your body is gripping around him, fingers carving halved spheres into his skin, and you’re pushing down on him through the ecstasy — you’re forcing your eyes open so he can see you break, watch them flutter back all soft and pretty.

And you're sated by your ruin when it ruins him too.

The sound he makes is ragged. Undone. He can only bury it halfway with a kiss you think is actually more of a bite, twitching inside you as he fucks you through it.

You’re both lost in each other for a moment that feels detached from time, feeling his hips stutter to a halt, feeling your body soften. And he’s pulling out of you like it hurts, mouth falling open as he does. You wince at the loss, the sweet soreness between your legs, and you’re held only by the weight of him. You think — and you actually sway like the mere idea is too strong — that if it weren’t for his hands, you’d fall flat off the bed.

But he sort of lifts you off him, lays you down and watches you for a long time as if to decide something important before he's laying down beside you. You watch him too. His fingers brush your hair out of your face, and when there’s not a single curl left clinging to the sweat on your skin, he continues anyway. You let him trace your lips, your jaw, your nose, and somehow, a bit terrifyingly, your final observation: nothing about it feels unusual at all.

You did say he was yours.

#tom riddle #tom riddle x reader #tom riddle x you #tom riddle smut #tom riddle x y/n #tom marvolo riddle #voldemort #voldemort x reader #tom riddle imagine #tom riddle fanfiction #tom riddle oneshot #NO LONGER!#but it is only a two-parter sorry. this is it #harry potter fanfiction #wizarding world

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 29 days

Text

Winter's King 8

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, cheating, violence, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You are a maid to the Duke of Debray, a lord of the Summer Kingdom. That is, until the king of Winter appears with his particular air of coldness. (Medieval AU)

Characters: Geralt of Rivia

Note: yo, work is driving me nuts.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

Lady Jazlene, a queen by marriage, cries herself to sleep. You stay until she snores and snuff the candle as you leave her on her stomach atop the stuffed mattress. You emerge between the guards and wonder if they keep people out or keep her in.

They don’t react to you. No one really does. A shadow approaches. The thickset man grunts at you as the moonlight shines off his dark mail. Bryce waits patiently as you near him. He turns and walks beside you in silence.

Much of the camp is asleep. The only fires that remain are those of the soldiers on watch for marauders and bandits. Your soles kick loose pebbles and trample flattened grass further. You yawn as you reach the luggage carts and find the one you rode in. The grey horse is tie to the axle, dozing on its feet with puffing nostrils.

“The road will not get any less turbulent,” Bryce warns as he grabs his bedroll from across his mount’s rump. “You will need sleep, maid.”

“Thank you, sir,” you lift the canvas draped over the back of the wagon.

He grumbles and unfurls his roll across the dirt. You climb up and nestle down beneath the cover, pressed against a chest as you curl up. You hear the soldier lay down with a groan, “...too sweet...”

You close your eyes and rest your head on a bent arm. The darkness quickly swallows you up into slumber and the day fades into obscurity. You’re not conscious long enough to dread the one ahead.

As the sun rises, heat gathers in the cart. You wake in a damp sweat, nearly suffocating as you gulp up cool air. You slip down onto your feet and grab onto the cart to keep from stumbling. Bryce grunts as your soles crunch on the ground.

“Eh, where’re you off to?” He sneers.

You look down at him. His eyes are still closed as his grey steed sniffs at the dirt close to him.

“Sir, I... I haven’t... relieved myself since... erm, well...”

“Go on, but not too far,” he opens his eyes and sits up. “Holler if you meet trouble.”

The horse huffs into his steely hair and he pets its nose. He grabs onto its reins and hauls himself up. You quickly spin and flit away. You go off into the brush where its thick and squat down, your skirts gathered above your knees. You miss the springs behind the castle where you would bathe with the other maids, you could use a wash now.

You finish up and peer over the stretch of bodies, horses, and carts. You set off back toward the cart and as you come in sight of Bryce, he unties a dented kettle from his saddles. You feel much better without the pressure beneath your guts.

“I could fetch water,” you offer.

He looks over his shoulder. You think you surprised him.

“Quiet mouse,” he mutters and faces you, gripping the bent handle, “I can manage a potful of water.”

“Yes, sir, I only was being helpful.”

“You stay, take Daisy to find some fresh grass,” he points to the horse.

“Daisy?” You look at the beast, “is that her name?”

He shrugs and stalks off. You go to the reins and loose them. You glance around and lead her over to an unyellowed swath of grass. She dips her long neck and grazes, tearing the strands noisily as her teeth clack. You pet her ear as she comes rather close to the hem of your skirt.

Heavy steps tramp up behind you. You don’t bother looking as you assume it’s Bryce. Those who are stirring are barely able to lift themselves out of their rolls. The lazy rise of dawn does not inspire fastidiousness as the clouds haze amber and rose.

“Fine horse,” the king’s timbre rumbles over you.

You turn and bow your head, “your highness.”

He inhales through his nose before he speaks again, “are you a fast rider?”

“I’ve never... I don’t ride, your highness,” you reply, staring at his black mail, just at the center of his chest. “It isn’t my horse.”

“I know it, I thought perhaps...” he begins and shifts his weight in his boots, “you might’ve secreted away the mare. That you would be sick for your home.”

“Your highness? No, I wouldn’t--” You put your hand to your apron, “I am not a thief.”

He pauses and his thick fingers toy with his belt, fiddling with a leather purse, “that isn’t what I...” he blows out in exasperation, “I do not think you dishonest. In fact, you are the most honest creature I’ve met around here.”

You keep your eyes down, “I only mean to feed the horse.”

“Yes, I believe you,” he assures, his tone glum, “forgive my inference. Truly, it wasn’t intended as such.”

“I understand, your highness,” you say.

“It was a jape, a poor one, I suppose,” he hooks his thumb in his belt and turns to pace. “I wanted to thank you. I have yet to figure out how to handle Lady Jazlene but you keeping her company, I do appreciate it.” He stops and crosses his arms as he faces you again, “last night, what you heard and saw... we are strangers still, her and I.”

“I am a maid, your highness, I serve the lady and you now,” you reply, “that’s all I do.”

His arms bulge before he drops them, “yes, I suppose for you, the matters of nobility are dull.”

“It is not of my concern, your highness,” you say, “I am to see that all the wine and food and little things are taken care of.”

You peer up at the sky as the dimness slowly recedes. His figure looms below and he slowly treads closer. You squeeze the reins.

“You serve the queen, the king, and... a horse,” he reaches to touch its snout, dragging his knuckles along its grey fur. “Make certain we are fed and content.”

“Whatever is needed, your highness,” you answer and watch his hand stroke the horse.

“And what do you need?” He asks.

You quork your head and stick out your lip. It's an odd question. You have what you need. You have a place in the cart, you have some nuts left over from Bryce’s generosity, and you have some hours sleep behind you.

“Nothing, I think,” you say.

He scratches behind the horse’s ear, “and what do you want?”

You purse your lips. You think. Another strange inquiry. What should you want? That’s not something anyone ever worried for. You only troubled after what others wanted.

“I... I want to see the snow,” you say at last, “I think I dreamt of it but I can’t remember. I don’t really know what it would look like but I remember once Merinda spoke of it. She knew a stable hand who once lived in the north.”

He’s quiet. Your answer isn’t very interesting. To him, the snows must be so tedious. Nothing more than ordinary. He makes a clicking noise.

“I want to see the snow too,” he pulls his hand away from the horse and for a moment, he seems to reach for you, recoiling short of touching your grasp on the reins. He withdraws and presses his thumb to his teeth. He hums. “We have far to go before the snow...” he rasps, “should you require anything for the road ahead, you may ask.”

“That is kind, your highness, but I don’t expect I require much,” you assure, “thank you.”

“Mmm,” he drones as he faces the sunrise and sets his posture, “onward.”

He marches away as you stay and watch Daisy munch on the grass. You comb your fingers through her main, loosening the tangles. When another approaches, you glance over. Bryce tidies his own hair with his hands.

“Water is boiling, maid,” he declares, “I have some spare mint leaf for tea.”

“Yes, sir, thank you,” you smile down at Daisy and move out of reach of her teeth. “I will stay with the horse until she is done.”

“Hm, aye, I understand,” his forehead lines, “she is much more pleasant than I.”

He nods and turns back the way he came. You watch after him as he goes to sit before the hanging kettle, a low flame burning beneath it. He rolls his shoulders and hunches forward as he plants his elbows on his knees. These people of the Hinterlands are not so cold as they pretend.

⚔️

The long train continues through the lands. Some days slower than others. There are some where progress stops at midday in favour of passing through a village or approaching a nearby farm. The king departs from the larger party, riding with his soldiers to greet the commonfolk. Lady Jazlene refuses to accompany her husband in favour of her silk tent and wine.

The pauses in your trek makes you curious; you only ever heard of King Waleran showing his face to the citizens during the harvest festivals and self-aggrandizing ceremonies. You never saw the king yourself, only heard Lord Dustan and his wife resentfully complain of how the king never made the journey to Debray. Did he not recall that once a duchess was married to his great-uncle?

You spend the hours in Jazlene’s company. She wants her wine and mutton. You notice that her appetite for the former has grown since the first day’s travel. She even requested that some casks be sought during one of the king’s visits. He acted as if he did not hear her entreaty. Their few encounters since that first night have been terse and short, neither offering much more than a word or two.

The queen swirls her cup, watching the motion of the wine within. She giggles and puts it down, picking up the looking glass and admiring herself. She sits on a wooden stool, her skirts dusted with the dirt of the road. Despite the filth, she insists on sporting a new gown each day, no matter how extravagant.

“What a fool? To think he is wasting his time on commoners,” she trills, “you know, he should be here, worried about his wife and queen. Not married a week and all we’ve done is ride anon. I’ve had no wedding, no feast. How I am neglected for these dirty farmers.”

You say nothing. You’re not certain she recalls you’re there. She speaks to herself often as if her mother is there. A few times, she has even called for the duchess. Often when she’s nearly finished the bottle.

She pouts and sniffs. She drains the cup completely and puts it down heavily on the crate next to her. She grips the mirror with both hands and looks at her reflection. She contorts her face, sucking in her cheeks, pushing out her lips, turning her head this way and that.

“Aren’t I beautiful?” She nearly whispers. You don’t flinch. You stare at your hem. She sighs and stomps her foot, “I’m asking you!”

You peek up at her, surprised.

“Yes, your highness, you are very beautiful.”

She frowns, “you lie to me.”

“I wouldn’t lie, your highness.”

“Don’t argue with me,” she snarls and slams the mirror down, cracking the glass on the crate. She stands and blusters around, her skirts catching between her legs, “if I am beautiful, what makes me so, hm? Tell me!”

You stare at her. She is beautiful. You always thought so.

“Your hair, your curls, your highness, they are beautiful.”

She rolls her eyes, “just my hair?”

She wobbles slightly as she struts towards you.

“Your eyes. They are pretty too. And you have a nicely set nose. And your lips are finely curved, your highness,” you explain as she looms closer and closer.

“Hmph,” she stops, slouching drunkenly as she leans in to consider you, “of course you would say so. Look at you. So plain. An ugly handmaid.”

You stare back at her, a strike in your chest, then drop your gaze. It is the wine. She huffs, her alcohol-laden breath tinging your nose.

“The king,” she babbles as she turns on her heels, swaying dangerously, “we’ve only lain together our first night. It was... quick. He didn’t want me to sleep with him,” she raises a hand and flutters her fingers, “he shooed me away like some whore.” She spins and falls onto the stool, “if I am so beautiful, why does he not want me?”

You watch her. She isn’t looking for your answer. She’s talking to talk. Lady Rezlyn isn’t there so she has only herself and stagnant air trapped in the tent.

“It is my duty to have his babies. To give him heirs. I cannot do that if he will not touch me. But perhaps when are in one place, he might try again,” she smiles and lifts the broken mirror. She tilts it and lets her hand drift down to your bodice. She pushes her chest up, “when he lets me take this off, he will see. He will want me.”

She convinces herself as she preens at her reflection, “perhaps it won’t hurt.” She looks around and sees the bottle of wine. She grabs it by the neck. She grips it and wiggles it at you in the air. “He’s even thicker than this,” she puts the mirror down and balances the bottle on her palm as she circles her fingers around the bottom of the bottles neck, just before it rounds out, “and longer.”

You stare at the silk wall, mortified by her words. She giggles and the movement of her hand draws your eyes up. You watch from under your lashes as she brings her hands up and down the bottle neck.

“Mother says, just like this,” she pumps it, “that he should like it very much.” She stops and focuses on the bottle, “mmm, he is a man underneath it all.” She tosses the bottle away, “and I am a beautiful woman. He will want me.”

You lower your eyes again and twine your fingers together. You can’t help but feel bad for her. You only wish you had some words of wisdom or comfort to offer her. Or that she would hear them. You can’t help but touch the fading bruise along your stomach as you languish in the tepid silence. It’s better to let her forget you.

#geralt of rivia #dark geralt #dark!geralt #geralt of rivia x reader #fic #series #au #medieval au #the witcher #winter's king #dark fic #dark!fic

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zepskies · 2 months

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Take Me Home - Part 2

Pairing: Beau Arlen x F. Reader

Summary: You are another lost soul at Sunny Day Excursions. You’re aiming to settle in Helena, Montana, where Beau Arlen is the new sheriff in town. But you’ve both got a past you’re running from.

AN: Thank you so much for all of your lovely comments on Part 1! I know many of you have questions, and I promise, all will be revealed in due time…

(Also, what do you guys think of new chapters releasing on Wednesdays and Sundays instead of just Fridays? A week is a long time, isn't it? 😂)

Song Inspo: “City Grown Willow” by Radio Company

Word Count: 5,200

Tags/Warnings: Tension, hurt/comfort, major angst, and more comfort of a different sort.

❤️ Series Masterlist

Part 2: It’s Not Right, But It’s Okay

Tensions were running high at Sunny Day Excursions.

Over the next few days, Mary continued to press the issue of you staying in Montana with little passive aggressive comments that got on your damn nerves. You proverbially dug your heels in, and became even more stubborn and taciturn as a result.

Unstoppable force meets immovable object.

However, the entire camp was shaken the night Paige and Luke disappeared on a hike. Buck and Sunny assured everyone that they were doing their best to look for the couple, but come the morning, it was Emily who accidentally found Luke in the woods, bleeding from a head wound, and without Paige.

He claimed that they’d gone their separate ways after a fight, and he hadn’t seen her since. Paige’s suitcase and things were gone from her tent, so Sunny could only assume that she’d found her way back to camp and left for home by morning.

“Look, no one’s a prisoner here,” Sunny had said. “If Paige wanted to go home, then that’s up to her.”

There was still something off about it though, you felt. Emily seemed to share your thoughts; you’d heard her whispering with Avery, and Dan, another camper in his early 40s.

You started to watch Luke a bit harder from then on. As did your friend Mary, if for different reasons.

It was still early in the morning when you caught her flirting with Luke in front of your shared tent.

“A personal trainer, huh?” said Luke. His gaze flit over Mary’s form, and she allowed it with a smile. “You know, I’ve got a pretty good workout routine, but I’ll bet you can give me some tips—”

“Drink lots of water,” you said dryly as you approached the tent. You carried your sketchpad and acrylic paints in your hand, and you pushed into the tent without giving Luke and Mary more than a glance.

You heard Mary’s voice outside the tent, all girlish and flirtatious as she apologized about you, and suggested they could keep talking later. Luke readily agreed. You sat down on the edge of your bed and watched his silhouette walk away from the tent.

Mary soon joined you inside, and she didn’t look pleased. She stared down at you and crossed her arms.

“Are you kidding me with that shit?” you asked, gesturing at the scene you just saw.

“Could you be any more of a cockblock?” Mary shot back.

“Number one, that guy is a little too young for you, Cougar Town,” you reminded her. Luke had to be in his early 20s. It had been a hot minute since you and Mary were of college age. “Number two, he came here with his girlfriend, who he somehow lost in the woods.”

“She left him,” Mary said. “All alone in the middle of nowhere. Then she took off and went home so she didn’t have to deal with what she did. I feel bad for him.”

“No, you’re horny for him. There’s a difference,” you said flatly.

You loved Mary like a sister, but she had the tendency to let guys blind her to good sense. (Ha. Pot calling the kettle black, came your self-deprecation.)

Though you could’ve predicted the way she huffed and walked away, once again leaving you alone. You sighed.

Wasn’t this vacation for us? you wondered.

Mary continued to bait Luke with coy flirtation, while you tried and failed to ride a horse again. Cormack had been kind and encouraging in trying to help you onto the creature, but once you were on its back, you were too afraid to let the horse move.

You felt like you were going to topple off at any moment, even with Beau Arlen’s advice. (Which still made you blush whenever you thought about it.)

So Cormack helped you down, and you went back to the mess tent for a mid-afternoon snack to make you feel better: a giant jelly donut.

You were really getting frustrated with yourself now.

“It’s not so hard,” Emily had said. You could imagine that her dad, the cowboy sheriff, had put her on a horse from the time she was a little kid. You were a city girl, through and through. The closest you’d ever gotten to riding a horse was a plastic one—a carousel at a carnival when you were six.

While you finished off your donut, you realized that you’d spent the whole day alone. As frustrated as you were with Mary, she was your best friend. And after this week, you would be staying and she would be going back to Chicago. You didn’t know when you would get to see her again.

So with a sigh, you wiped your hands free of donut icing and went to try and find her.

You started with the tent you shared with her. “Hey, Mary? Look I—”

You gasped when, upon entering the tent, you got your eyes seared. Mary and Luke were tangled together under the sheets. He moved off of your friend and rolled onto his back next to her when you came in. Mary uttered your name in shock. Everyone was shocked, really.

You were that, and angry.

“Really?! In our goddamn bed?” you shouted. Your gaze focused on Luke, and you pointed at him. “Get the hell out of here.”

He hesitated slightly, glancing at Mary, but your furious look scared him more. He grabbed his boxers and got dressed under the sheets before he left the bed, and then fled the tent, giving you a wide berth on his way out.

You then focused on Mary, who somehow looked both contrite and irritated at being interrupted. She said your name in a placating way, but you shook your head.

“No. No. Don’t even try,” you said. “That guy’s girlfriend left him in the middle of a vacation! What does that tell you? Please, screw me?”

“You know what?” Mary snapped. She sat up in the bed, making sure to cover herself with the sheet. She leaned over to grab her clothes from the floor and started hastily getting dressed.

“Luke’s actually a nice guy," she said. "You used to know how to have fun. But now you’ve just become this bitter person who can’t relax or let yourself be happy, let alone anyone else.”

That actually struck you—like a physical blow to your chest. You tried to blink past the sting of tears in your eyes.

“You’re a damn child,” you said, steadier than you felt. “You’re not the one who had your whole world imploded.”

Mary’s lips pursed. She still looked angry, but also like she was hiding the sting of guilt. She gathered up some of her things and informed you that she’d be staying at Luke’s tent tonight.

Freakin’ fine by you.

You’d also have to request some new bed sheets from Sunny.

In the morning, you stumbled out of bed after a rough night’s sleep. It was hard for you to sleep in a new place by yourself, especially out here in the woods.

Especially after how you and Mary left things.

You were so tired, you counted it a small blessing that you were able to put on clothes and get your hair into some kind of normalcy before you trekked over to the mess tent.

There you accidentally overheard Avery and Emily arguing; she’d lost her knife in the woods when she’d happened upon Luke, but Avery was reluctant to let her go hiking by herself. Apparently, her mother was due to join them this morning as well.

It seemed like the day of late comers though. A new married couple, Tonya and Donno, had arrived late yesterday to join the trip. They’d requested a tent at the far end of the camp, closest to the woods. Apparently, they wanted to really experience nature.

All you knew was, they seemed a bit weird.

“That knife’s important. My father gave it to me,” Emily said, interrupting your thoughts.

It made Avery quiet, but they both greeted you more pleasantly when you had to walk by them to get to the coffee.

“Hey, sorry,” you gave a little wave in embarrassment. You hated interrupting moments that had nothing to do with you, but you supposed it was unavoidable in this camp.

Once you’d gotten your coffee and filled your plate with some eggs and bacon, you joined them at the table. You pretended not to notice the way they both glanced at you with measures of concern. Did you really look that bad?

Avery wisely didn’t comment. Emily wasn’t as good at curbing her inner filter.

“Hey, you okay?” she asked. You gave her a thin smile.

“Just a bit tired. Didn’t sleep so well,” you admitted.

Of course, that was when the reason for your bedraggled appearance strolled into the mess tent. Mary came in and noticed Avery and Emily first with a smile. It turned frosty when she glanced at you. You gave her a mocking “smile” right back.

She chose to ignore you and went for the buffet table instead.

Right, you thought. You supposed that was how it was going to be for the rest of this damn trip.

“All righty! Good mornin’, folks,” Sunny said, entering the mess tent. She surveyed all the faces gathered—some relaxed and jovial, and then your table, a bit awkward, a bit tense.

She moved on with a smile that matched her name and her shiny red hair.

“Just lettin’ you all know as a reminder, we’ve got a bunch of activities for you all if there are any takers. Archery, kayaking, it’s gonna be a great time,” she said. “But if you prefer, you’re welcome to keep to the camp have a more relaxed day. It’s your vacation, so it’s up to you how you wanna spend it.”

You all nodded in understanding.

It’s your vacation. You choose how you spend it.

That, you could get on board with.

You spent the rest of the morning alone, as usual. Either you were reading in the outdoor lounge area, taking in the sunshine and the fresh air, or you were painting, taking in the landscape of the tall trees and the great, big mountains peeking out from behind them.

You earned yourself some peace today, one that let you breathe and try to tune out your frustrations with Mary, and your worries about the future. You hummed along to a melody in your mind as you painted. Completely at peace…

Until a hand tapped on your shoulder, making you yelp and sending your paintbrush high in the air.

Cormack came into your line of vision with a barely stifled laugh and placating hands. While you took out your earbuds (and calmed your breathing), he grabbed your brush and handed it back to you.

“Sorry about that. Just wanted to let you know that lunch is served,” he said, though he took a glance at your painting. “Hey, lookin’ real good there. Nice landscape.”

You let out an embarrassed chuckle. “Aw, you don’t have to be so nice. I’m still learning.”

He crossed his arms. “Well, if you’re interested in taking classes, I know someone who runs an art studio in town. Miss Peggy. Nice lady. Not too harsh.”

You laughed more genuinely.

“Good to know, thanks! Send me the address and I’ll check it out,” you said. Cormack agreed with a smile, and he helped you up from the long couch you were sitting on. The two of you walked back together to the central part of the camp, where the mess tent was.

There you met Emily’s mother, Carla, who’d just joined her family at the camp. She wasn’t exactly dressed for camping in her pressed blouse and pencil skirt; professional and smart, her long dark hair a perfect coil.

This woman was immaculate. As you soon learned, she was also a lawyer. You didn’t often feel intimidated by other women, but she could fit that bill, considering you were sweaty and dusty in your plain V-necked shirt and jeans.

And especially knowing that this was Sheriff Arlen’s ex-wife. Avery seemed like the “wealthy businessman” type—the kind of man you’d expect a high-powered lawyer to be with. You found yourself wondering how she’d met the sheriff.

That’s none of your busineeeess, you sing-songed in your mind, while you speared more salad on your plate. As if that could disguise the juicy brisket burger right beside it.

After lunch, you returned to your tent to finally find Mary. She was lying on the bed, looking a bit listless.

“I’m surprised you’re not attached to Luke’s hip,” you remarked, setting down your backpack and paint supplies on the floor. “Or his face.”

She shot you a peeved look. “He keeps ditching me for that weird new couple. Tonya and Donner or something.”

“Donno?” you supplied. “Yeah, he’s weird. He stole the ketchup bottle from the breakfast table this morning. He told me, ‘You shouldn’t ruin good eggs with sugary tomato paste.’”

Mary raised a brow, but she turned to you when you sat down beside her on the bed. There was a moment of tension between you, even though your gazes were softer to each other. The truth was, you missed your friend today. You guys didn’t fight often, and it had you hurting. Maybe she felt the same way.

“Listen,” you said with a sigh. “I’m not sorry for throwing Luke out of our tent. That was gross as hell, and I didn’t appreciate that. But I don’t want to fight with you. I want to enjoy our last few days together before you go back to Chicago.”

Mary’s lips pursed, but she seemed to relent.

“Yeah, that was a bitch move,” she admitted. She knew full well that her tryst with Luke could’ve happened in his tent, not the one she shared with you. She met your gaze with more resignation, as well as apology.

“You’re really staying here, aren’t you?” she asked.

You nodded. “Yeah, I am. I’m not saying there’s nothing for me back home. Of course I’m going to miss you, our friends, the rest of my family…but I need to do this. I need a fresh start.”

It took her a moment, but Mary nodded. She reached over and hugged you. You held her back tightly.

After a beat, she let you go and slid out of bed.

“Okay,” she sighed. “I need to do something. I’m going stir crazy in here.”

“Where’re you going?” you asked.

“Just for a run,” she replied. “I should be back by dinner.”

“A run?” you repeated, your brows furrowing. “In the woods by yourself? Don’t you think that’s dangerous?”

“Well, you could come with me,” she offered. You grimaced. You and running didn’t mix. You were more of a yoga girl.

Mary laughed and finished changing into her activewear and sneakers.

“That’s what I thought,” she said. “No worries, I’ll have my phone if anything. I’ll be okay.”

“But your cell won’t have service out there!” you said.

Mary was already leaving. She blew you a kiss goodbye, though she did stop in the tent’s entryway. Her face sobered with a sincere apology.

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back, clear my head.”

You were reluctant to see her go, but you nodded.

“Just be back in time for dinner!” you called after her.

Mary wasn’t back for dinner. Even after the sun set, she hadn’t come back from her run. You were really beginning to worry.

All the other campers were gathering up at the edge of camp for a Night Hike. It was an idea Buck and Sunny surprised you all with a few hours ago. You wondered if they were trying to make up for the strange way Paige left the camp.

“The moon’s full tonight,” as Sunny had said, with a slightly too bright smile. “Should be a beautiful time.”

You asked some of the others if they’d seen Mary, but they all replied negatively. Even Luke was nowhere to be found…but someone else was missing too.

“I still can’t believe you let her go into the woods alone,” Carla snapped at her husband.

Avery’s frown deepened. “I had no idea she went off by herself. You know your daughter. She’s headstrong—”

“Yeah, just like her father,” Carla muttered, turning away from him. Avery sighed.

You couldn’t help but approach them.

“Emily’s missing?" you said in concern. "Mary is too. I’ve been waiting for her to come back all afternoon.”

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Carla said. She frowned as anxiety continued to well up in her eyes. “Maybe they found each other.”

You touched her arm in comfort. “Either way, we can all look for them now.”

Sunny came up to the group with a flashlight and a smile.

“Everyone ready?” she asked.

“Mary’s missing,” you told her, “And so is Emily. Mary went on a run this morning and hasn’t been back since.”

Sunny inclined her head. After she surveyed the rest of the crowd, she settled back on you.

“I see Luke’s not among us either. Maybe they’re together?” she suggested, in a leading tone. You frowned.

“No, she left alone,” you said firmly.

“Don’t mean she stayed alone, darlin’,” Sunny replied, with that Oklahoma twang that so often made her words more charming. “But we’ll be sure to look for her and Emily while we’re out there.”

Carla shook her head and said to her husband, “That’s it. I’m calling Beau.”

“Darling, you don’t need to,” Avery replied, shaking his head. “Emily’s a responsible girl. She knows what time we’re meant to leave—”

Carla shook her head and walked past him and Sunny—towards the hotspot for cell service. You agreed with her; calling the sheriff couldn’t hurt, especially if you all couldn’t find Mary or Emily on this hike.

You still went with the rest of them to start your own search. You tried to keep with the group, but after lingering in certain spots to call for Mary, you eventually realized that you’d lost the trail—and everyone else.

The trees were tall and dark now. The moon was filtering through them like the sun had during other day hikes, but it was much more ominous at night.

“Shit,” you muttered. You gripped your flashlight in worry as panic started to well up in your chest.

Now you were lost.

You jumped with a start when the hoot of a bird passed by overhead.

Shiiiit. This was very bad.

You kept moving forward on what you thought was the trail. That was all you could do, keep moving forward. You made a few turns around some trees, occasionally calling out for Sunny, or Mary, or anyone to hear you.

The panic was back now, full force, and you felt the sting of tears in your eyes. And when you turned another corner, you screamed when you bumped into someone.

A girl’s scream echoed just as loudly as yours in the big, empty wood, but you got ahold of yourself, literally with a hand over your wildly beating heart when you realized who you’d run into.

“Emily!” you uttered. The girl let out a breath of relief to see you too. You went to her and pulled her into a hug, and she hugged you back.

“Thank. God,” she said. Her voice sounded tight with emotion, and you held her a bit tighter.

“It’s okay,” you rubbed her back. “How long’ve you been out here?”

“I don’t know,” she shook her head, pulling away from you. “Couple of hours? Maybe longer.”

You nodded and expelled a breath. Poor thing looked tired. She didn’t even have any supplies with her. You gave her a protein bar from your backpack before you two started walking.

“So the good news is, we found each other. The bad news is, we’re still lost,” you said, counting each item on your fingers. “But the good news also is, I’ve only been walking for about…half an hour or so. I’m thinking we can mark trees or other landmarks as we pass them, like checking them off, so we know where we’ve been.”

Emily glanced at you with a smile. “You’re a checklist person, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely!” you agreed. “Checking things off is satisfying. But it’s also good just to take an inventory of where we’re at.”

You two kept walking for a while. Emily explained that she’d been following Luke, who took off by himself after giving her an ominous warning.

“There are some bad people on this trip. Want my advice? Get the hell out of here,” he’d said.

You frowned in concern. You’d felt that there was something fishy about that guy, pretty much from the moment he and Paige disappeared on that hike. Those newcomers he’d been hanging out with ever since, Tonya and Donno…maybe they had something to do with it.

They’d left camp today to go into town, claiming to check on the restaurant they owned and ran. But with everything now starting to come into perspective, you couldn’t take any piece of information at face value around here.

Suddenly, Emily stopped short.

“What’s…” Your words trailed as you followed her line of vision. There was a frilly pair of underwear on the ground.

That led to a hoodie strewn in the dirt and dead leaves. You continued on, until you found Mary, lying on her back on the cold ground. You and Emily gasped her name, but you moved first, dropping to your knees at Mary’s side. You pressed a hand to her cheek and found it cold.

You moved two fingers to the pulse point at her neck, but there was nothing. No life in her. Your mouth fell open in a silent, shocked cry.

“Mary? Honey, can you hear me?” you tried, shaking her shoulders. When she remained unresponsive, tears burned in your eyes and blurred your vision. You finally saw a dark patch of wet pooled out from under her body.

“Oh my God,” Emily said, voicing your thoughts. She was panicked. “Oh God, she’s…she’s…”

You turned to her and wanted to say, Don’t look.

You had briefly taught highschoolers before you became a college professor. You were used to looking out for your students, and as the adult here, you wanted to shield the teen from the sight of this, no matter how much your mind was spinning.

Before you could say anything, Emily fled the clearing with a scream.

“Emily!” you shouted after her. You glanced back at Mary in desperation, but you forced yourself onto your feet and ran after the girl.

You had slightly longer legs, but she was fast. You only caught up to her because she screamed louder, after running into Buck leading a horse through the woods. She grabbed onto him while you caught your breath behind her.

“What? What happened?” Buck asked. You laid a supportive hand on Emily’s shoulder, and she turned back to you with tearful eyes.

“Mary,” you managed, despite the coarseness in your voice. “She’s…”

This isn’t real, you thought. It’s not real. It’s not real. It’s not real.

“She’s dead,” Emily finished for you. “Someone killed her.”

Buck’s eyes widened in shock. All he could say was…

“Show me.”

Buck brought Mary’s body back to camp on the back of his horse. The three of you walked in silence all the way there. You couldn’t bring yourself to look at her lifeless body. It was wrong. And if you did, you knew you’d collapse.

Emily was likely in shock as well. Her arm was looped through yours, though you weren’t sure who was steadying who.

Thanks to Carla, the police were already on the way to Sunny Day Excursions. When you reached the camp, Carla beelined for her daughter. Despite how happy she was to see her mom, Emily was a bit reluctant to let go of you, seeing how shaken you were, but you encouraged her wordless to go to her mother.

Carla pulled Emily into a tight hug, kissing the side of her head, and asked if she was all right. Emily just shook her head and pressed her face into her mom’s shoulder. Carla looked up at you with a relieved sigh.

“Thank you,” she said.

You gave her teary smile of your own. You couldn’t speak though, especially when Buck passed by with Mary still on the back of his horse. Sunny gasped and grabbed a blanket to cover the body with.

She then went to you, whispering, “You poor dear. Come ‘ere, sit by the fire.”

She covered your shoulders with another blanket and steered you to sit by the bonfire in the center of camp. You stayed there and stared at the flames. All the while, you didn’t feel the warmth. You didn’t feel the silent tears that slid down your face and dropped into your lap.

“Where’s Luke?” you heard Avery ask.

“That’s a good question,” said Sunny. She turned to her husband. “Buck?”

“I don’t know, but somebody better find him,” he replied grimly.

It was another hour before the police arrived.

You still hadn’t moved from your spot in front of the bonfire on a hard bench, but it was Cormack who gently asked you if you wanted to go back to your tent to relax until the police got around to talking to you about what happened.

You’d agreed, silently, and he helped you up. But you found that you could go no further than the couple of steps that brought you onto the platform outside of your tent. The tent you’d shared with Mary.

You couldn’t go in, and Cormack seemed to realize that. He helped you lower down to sit on the platform, with your dirty sneakers planted on the step below. He gave you a cup of hot tea as well, which you held with both hands and sipped slowly.

You only raised your head when you heard Emily’s voice exclaim in happiness. You watched her run to her father, the Sheriff. He welcomed his daughter into his arms and held her tight. Relief was painted all over his face. You heard the rumble of his voice asking her if she was all right. She just burrowed closer in the safety of his arms.

A blonde policewoman had come with him, along with a whole unit of officers. She went to question Buck and Sunny first, while Beau handled Emily, then Avery and Carla. It didn’t seem like a pleasant conversation, between the two men especially.

Don’t stare, you reminded yourself. You lowered your gaze to the dusty bottom stair between your feet. Your vision started to glaze over the longer you focused on that spot. You weren’t lost in thought. You were just…blank. This entire night still didn’t feel real.

Mary’s last words kept ringing through your mind…

“Look, I’m sorry for everything, okay?” she’d said. “I know I can be a brat sometimes…but we can talk more when I get back.”

You were interrupted from your reverie when two brown boots entered your line of vision. You looked up, and Beau Arlen was there to greet you with a look of sympathy. And yet, there was a professional set to his face that let you know you were about to be formally questioned about Mary’s death.

“Is that spot taken?” Beau asked, pointing to the space beside you on the platform. You shook your head and scooched over, so he could sit down. He sighed on his way there, greeting you with polite familiarity.

“Sheriff,” you nodded back. You set aside your mug of tea and crossed your arms, holding yourself against the chill.

You’d left the blanket by the bonfire, and your sweater had been stained with blood, after helping Buck set Mary’s body on the horse. You’d ripped the sweater off as soon as you got to camp, leaving you in just your undershirt.

“You need a jacket,” Beau remarked. He glanced back at your tent, as if he was wondering why you hadn’t gone inside to grab one. But his gaze was perceptive. Instead of asking, he shrugged out of his faux fur-lined leather jacket and draped it around your shoulders.

“Here, you can borrow this for now,” he said.

“Thank you,” you spoke in a small voice. You grasped one edge of the jacket and pulled it closer around you. It smelled like musky cologne and old leather.

Beau waved off his gesture of kindness.

“I hear you found my daughter in the woods and tried to get her back to camp,” he said. “Thank you for that.”

You glanced over at him, and tears once again shone in your eyes.

“I’m sorry she had to see…”

Beau’s gaze was heavy as he sighed and nodded again in agreement.

“I’m sorry you had to see it too,” he said. “And I’m sorry for your loss. For your friend.”

You took in a shuddering breath. New tears found familiar paths down your cheeks.

“Best friend, since college,” you said.

Beau took that in, before he asked you about the day’s events. You had to explain about Mary going missing first, then Emily, and finally Luke, who still hadn’t been found. You told everything you knew from your perspective.

When you were done, Beau reluctantly asked about the Mary and Luke situation. Your lips pursed, but your upset wasn’t at the sheriff. You knew he had to ask these questions.

“We argued about it,” you admitted. “Me and Mary. I warned her not to get involved with him, and the way Paige left camp was just one of many…but still, I should’ve been there. I shouldn’t have let her go into the woods alone! I should’ve gone with her!”

By the end, your whole body wracked with sobs. You covered your face with your hands to try and get some semblance of composure, but you just couldn’t keep it together.

“Okay, okay,” Beau said gently. He laid a hand on your back and rubbed back and forth. “I’m sorry, darlin’. I am.”

You sucked in a few tremulous breaths, sniffling. You looked up at him with red, watery eyes. He gave you a half smile.

“Sorry,” he repeated, this time for the endearment. “Like I said, got a bad habit of doin’ that.”

You shook your head with a weak curve of your lips, despite how your lower lip wobbled.

“It’s okay,” you said.

But it wasn’t. Nothing was.

You didn’t think you’d ever be okay again.

AN: 😥 I'm sorry about Mary, but I promise, it's all for a purpose, besides following canon. But let me know what you think! There will be much more of the reader and Beau in the next chapter, though you may not expect how their next meeting comes about...

Next Time:

“We’re gonna start here in a few minutes, but until then, you can take a seat,” said Tom. “There’s also coffee and cookies over there, if you like.”

Coffee. Coffee was warm, and it might settle your nerves and help you perk up a bit. You thanked him and went for the carafes on a small table in the back. You poured some coffee into a Styrofoam cup and poured a little sugar and creamer into it, but after you took an experimental sip, you immediately regretted it.

Tastes like damn soil water! You made a grossed out sound and spat it back into your cup.

“Yeah, wouldn’t recommend the joe,” drawled a familiar voice.

You turned sharply to find Sheriff Beau Arlen.

▶️ Keep Reading: PART 3

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#It's Not Right But It's Okay #Take Me Home #Part 2 #Beau Arlen series #big sky #beau arlen #beau arlen x reader #beau arlen x female reader #Emily Arlen #beau arlen x you #Jensen Ackles characters #big sky season 3 #zepskies writes

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optimist-pine · 2 months

Text

Granny

Summary: You and Daryl have a secret confusing love language of insults

Warnings: None

Word Count: 1,236

Era: Seasons 1-5(ish), The quarry - Alexandria

It had started shortly after your first encounter with Mr. Dixon. Simply a passing (slightly pointed) comment - nothing more - as some of you gathered around the fire that night.

Dale stands near the flames, removing a whistling pot from the heat. "Anybody want a cup of tea? Kettle's hot."

"Why dun'cha ask granny over there?" Daryl suggests, nodding towards you with a snigger. Merle's not around tonight, and so it seems he's found a way to create a bit of entertainment.

Your head snaps up when you realize you're the butt of the joke, hands stilling as you set down your work. A crochet hook or knitting needles find their way into your hands as often as that damn crossbow ends up in his; usually when it's too late in the evening to be doing anything else. "You know what? I would love a cup of tea. Thank you, Dale." You reply, taking the steaming mug that's passed to you with a smile that melts into a pointed glare the second Daryl's eyes meet yours.

The corner of his mouth twitches mischievously. "Somebody get out tha' fancy china an' the biscuits an' we'll have ourselves a real tea party." He's prodding the coals with a stick, and in the darkness, the slope of his shoulders brings to mind the image of a caveman. The thought amuses you.

You nod your head, contemplating. "Hmm... I'd be down for that. In fact, I have a feeling we might even be in the presence of a tea party expert." You say knowingly. Sophia and Carol sit cuddled up to your right, and the little girl looks curiously up at you, cradling a well-loved teddy bear. You turn to the child, lowering your voice. "You wouldn't happen to know anything about tea parties, would you?"

She curls into herself a little, shyly. But at her mother's gentle urging, she nods her head, a tiny smile appearing on her face.

You clap your hands together. "It's settled then! Tomorrow we shall have a tea party." The last part is aimed at Daryl - you feel proud of yourself, but the confused look on his face makes you question why. It's like you've taken his accusation as a challenge to prove just how grandmotherly you can be, and funnily enough, he's probably right. You're actually looking forward to hanging out with Sophia tomorrow; she's a pretty cool kid.

Carol tuts softly. "After school." She adds.

"After school." You agree, shooting Sophia a conspiratorial wink.

Every time Daryl spots you working with your yarn he can't resist the urge to tease you about it. Maybe it's because you take every jest in good humor, or maybe it's because you always have a quick, witty comeback. He's never quite figured it out, but somehow it's become a staple of your interactions. Even though so much has changed, he's oddly glad that this hasn't.

One night, in the dead of winter, as the wind howls through gaps in the window frames you get an ornery glint in your eye. Daryl's already found your behavior suspicious, whatever current yarn project you've been committed to hasn't made a single appearance the entire evening. And the way you keep glancing at him almost nervously is... unsettling.

When he looks up again you're walking towards him, hands tucked behind your back, trying so hard to look casual that it doesn't take long before all eyes are on you. You stop in front of him and promptly shove a box in his face. No, not just a box. It's a present, wrapped perfectly in polka-dotted gift wrap with a glittery bow to top it all off.

He stares back at you, wondering what punchline he's missed.

You roll your eyes. "It's a gift, Daryl."

"Why?" He asks. He'd trust you with his life any day, but right now - with that box - he absolutely does not.

"Well, why don'tcha just open it and find out?" You taunt, shaking the present just a smidge.

He takes the box, feeling awkward and clumsy as he tears away the paper. Having never opened a present before - at least nothing like this that is - feelings of stupidity and excitement and pressure blend within him.

He dumps the object into his palm. It's cool and smooth to the touch; a black mug with white writing that says "World's Crankiest Grandpa".

You're trying so hard to withhold from laughing that your face is turning pink.

"Think ya could get yer money back on this one?" He asks, spinning the cup around to critique it.

You slap his arm lightly. "Ah, Dixon, you're no fun."

"She might'a hit the nail on the head there." Rick chuckles.

You sit back down, finally pulling out your yarn like all is now right in the world. "Ah, I found it a couple days ago. Couldn't resist. S'pecially not after the dream I had where you were yellin' at the walkers to 'git offa yer damn lawn'..." You shudder. "Took me a bit to get that one outta my head."

That earns quite a few laughs from the rest of the group. Once again, you've managed to lift the mood of those around you. It seems to be a habit of yours.

He turns the mug over and over again, running his thumb across the letters. He knows it's only a gag gift, but he's not blind to the effort that went into it. And it's not an exaggeration to say that this silly mug is by far the most thoughtful gift he's ever received.

He hangs onto that mug, using it proudly every day. Of course, it garners the occasional question from the new folks, but he doesn't mind. Soon enough he's got a matching handmade hat, scarf, and gloves as proof of your continuing love for the grandmotherly hobby.

When the prison falls he misses those gifts severely.

But then, Alexandria. The day he comes across you there on the porch in a creaky rocking chair, with your cup of steaming tea and a ball of yarn, the once-familiar urge to say something a little stupid and a lot annoying takes over.

He stoops down and leans in. "Where's yer glasses at, old lady?"

You wave your hand to shoo him away. "Ah, git yer muddy boots off'a my porch ya ol' geezer." You nag, the smile you're trying to hide peeking out like a sun ray from behind storm clouds. He holds his hands up in mock surrender, clomping down the steps. But it's not like he's trying to hide his own smile or anything... Not at all.

When he returns home that evening, there, sitting on the end of his bed, is a small box. It's perfectly wrapped in paper that's covered in birds and trees, encircled with a pristinely hand-tied bow. He can't deny the flutter of excitement as he plops down to unwrap it. It's like Deja Vu, the coffee mug tumbling into his palm. This time it's white with black lettering that reads "I don't always roll a joint, but when I do, it's my ankle".

With a snort he falls back onto the bed, letting old memories wash away the burdens of the day. However he can, whatever it takes, he'll hold onto the hope that you'll both end up old and gray and worn someday - together.

#twd #the walking dead #daryl dixon #daryl dixon x reader #twd season 1 #twd season 2 #twd season 3 #twd season 4 #twd season 5 #optimist pine

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judeswhore · 1 year

Text

i’d kill you if i loved you less hard - jude bellingham | instagram files

summary: your relationship with jude is complicated but that doesn’t stop you both from wreaking havoc online

pairing: situationship!jude bellingham x singer!reader

face claim: gracie abrams

notes: you can find my masterlist here. this is based on an ask i got in my hey jude :) tag and i just had to do it. pictures are not mine, credit to the original owners

yourusername

liked by judebellingham and others.

yourusername thank u to the fan who gave me this hat u made my night🤠this has been an incredible few weeks!!

view all comments…

user1 so so pretty

user2 I HAD THE BEST TIME TONIGHT

judebellingham u wearing that tiara so everyone knows ur a pillow princess🤨

↳yourusername i work for it

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user3 please please sing 21 at the next tour🫶🏻🫶🏻

bestfriendsuser u slayed as always

judebellingham save a horse, ride a cowgirl

↳yourusername u saying u wanna ride me?

↳judebellingham i mean if ur offering🤷

↳user4 JUDE??

vogue 🩷

braedenlemasters cowboy hats on stage is my thing.

↳yourusername but i look prettier :)

———

judebellingham

liked by jackgrealish and others.

judebellingham huge game, huge win. enjoy the break❤️

view all comments…

yourusername okay whore

↳judebellingham pot meet kettle

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↳yourusername more delusional than ur fans

user4 ^^^very weird

gioreyna my brother❤️

user5 🥰🥰🥰

user6 thighs🤤🤤🤤

↳yourusername exactly what i’ve been saying

↳judebellingham get a grip

jackgrealish come to city x

yourusername be honest what will it take for u to yell at me like this

↳gioreyna u have no shame🙄

↳yourusername if you’d have taken me on that date i wouldn’t have had to lower my standards like this

↳user7 girl stick to singing these boys ain’t shit

———

yourusername

liked by gioreyna and others.

yourusername it’s supposed to be fun turning 21 or wtv

view all comments…

jobebellingham wonder who that could be

↳yourusername it could possibly be ur dad

↳jobebellingham fuck off u worm

user8 happy birthday favourite girl

user9 HAPPY BDAY❤️

user10 are we gonna just ignore the boy in her bed?

↳user11 it’s jude it’s a common occurrence tbh

judebellingham happy birthday ig

judebellingham suppose u look kinda fit

↳yourusername i distinctly remember u telling me this morning that i’m the prettiest girl you’ve ever seen

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↳karim_adeyemi there’s other people on this app u know

bestfriendsuser happy bday girly looking as hot as always ily <3

bestfriendsuser im gonna act like that third slide doesn’t exist for my own sanity

↳yourusername probably shouldn’t open my snaps then

user12 this feels like a relationship announcement

↳yourusername it’s not.

user13 spending her birthday together but they’re NOT dating🤨

↳yourusername we just hang out sometimes🙃

↳trentarnold66 hang out🤣🤣

———

judebellingham

liked by declanrice and others.

judebellingham views were nice

view all comments…

user14 wtf??

user15 is she his girlfriend

yourusername don’t tell anyone but u look really pretty rn

yourusername why’d u post the pic where u can’t actually see my arse

↳judebellingham because i don’t want people looking at ur arse

user16 so much for not dating

reecejames u two are foul

bestfriendsuser is someone gonna explain how this happened

↳judebellingham when two people really like each other they do nice things together

↳bestfriendsuser i really fkn hate u

user17 my girls getting corrupted :(

gioreyna 🥰🥰🥰

↳judebellingham 😘😘😘

gioreyna mr and mrs “it’s not serious”

↳yourusername it’s not serious🙄he’s just got a big bank account

↳judebellingham tell him what else is big babe

user18 ^^^ i hate seeing this stuff

———

yourusername

liked by masonmount and others.

yourusername in this weeks news

view all comments…

masonmount GO MARIO

↳yourusername thanks 4 being my luigi🫶🏻🫶🏻

↳judebellingham mason’s like 4ft shouldn’t it be the other way round?

masonmount 🍒🍒

↳user19 MASON?? WHEN DID THIS HAPPEN

↳user20 i’m sure they’re just friends

↳user21 i really don’t like her

masonmount i still feel a little sick and my ears won’t stop ringing

↳judebellingham aren’t u too old for go karting??

user22 i swear she was with jude

↳user23 she’s got a type apparently

bestfriendsuser this i can get behind

↳yourusername shhh🤭🤭

user24 i am so in love with u

oliviarodrigo girl how are u so HOT

↳user25 collab soon🙏

jobebellingham that sunburn looks painful

↳judebellingham bro why are u here

↳jobebellingham she’s upset with u not me🤷

———

judebellingham

liked by england and others.

judebellingham in this weeks news

view all comments…

jobebellingham give it a rest🤣

yourusername first shirts ugly

↳judebellingham really? cos it got me laid

↳yourusername did it fuck u were in my dms all night

user26 u look SO good omg

user27 him using the same caption as y/n they’re definitely fighting

↳user28 i think they broke up tbh

↳user29 they were never together😭

erling.haaland good looking fella

↳judebellingham all u big guy❤️

bvb09 the coldest🥶

user000 the best week with u

↳judebellingham u know it🤪

↳yourusername oh?

↳bestfriendsuser oh??

↳yourusername but he was “missing me”

gioreyna liked this comment.

jobebellingham liked this comment.

user30 ^^ these two are so messy

———

yourusername

liked by oliviarodrigo and others.

yourusername hot girl healing

view all comments…

judebellingham gorgeous😍😍

this comment has been deleted.

judebellingham ur arse looks good in these jeans

this comment has been deleted.

judebellingham answer ur phone bro

this comment has been deleted.

jennaortega obsessed with the first pic

↳yourusername me when i kiss u

user31 we all saw jude’s comments

user32 so so pretty u deserve the absolute world

user33 y/n heartbreak era??? new music coming???

↳user34 i don’t want her to be sad but we NEED new music

yourusername liked this comment.

masonmount nice jeans

↳user34 not again🙄🙄

judebellingham liked this comment.

gioreyna can u heal a little faster i’m getting bored

user36 u are my idol <3

———

judebellingham

liked by yourusername and others.

judebellingham good to be back😁

view all comments…

bvb09 Let’s go!!⚫️🟡

user37 y/n still liking his pics👀

karim_adeyemi cute

user38 i wanna give him a rose :(

kalvinphillips most i’ve seen u smile

gioreyna should give that rose to someone else

↳bestfriendsuser she needs a lot more than that

↳gioreyna it’s time he started breaking bank

↳yourusername i wanna date u instead🤭

↳judebellingham you’re off limits.

↳yourusername mason didn’t think so

this comment has been deleted.

sanchooo10 big things to come🙏

↳judebellingham come back dortmund bro

↳sanchooo10 👀👀

adidasfootball ⭐️

user39 petition for u to come to everton

yourusername ur beard looks like pubes

this comment has been deleted.

———

yourusername

liked by sadiesink and others.

yourusername big girls don’t cry🙃

view all comments…

yourusername ps. new music is cooking

sadiesink HOT girls don’t cry

sadiesink especially over mediocre men

↳yourusername especially not men who use bunny ears to tie their laces

user40 new music new music new music

user41 show us ur tattoo!!!!

↳gioreyna it’s a portrait of me

↳yourusername a nude portrait🤭

user42 the way jude is nowhere to be seen

trentarnold66 can i get tickets to ur next gig?

↳yourusername will u hook me up w aitch?

↳trentarnold66 suppose so if u play nice

user43 prettiest and sweetest girl ever <3

user44 u were too good for him anyway

jobebellingham liked this comment.

gioreyna @.jobebellingham stop being a little shit🤣

———

three weeks later.

yourusername added to their story!

↳ judebellingham replied to your story!

jude:

u wanna show me

what’s under that top?

you:

not particularly

jude:

don’t be mean

u don’t miss me?

i missed u

you:

missed me or

missed fucking me

jude:

both

i wanna see u

no one’s home

you:

i’m busy

jude:

with mason?

you:

jude:

so come over

i know u need me to fuck u

you:

i can’t think of anything worse

jude:

oh really?

i remember u were

begging me two weeks ago

to fuck u in that club

bathroom

seemed like u really

needed it

you:

no idea what ur

talking about

jude:

come over and i’ll

jog ur memory

c’mon pretty girl

let me show u how

much i’ve missed u

———

judebellingham

liked by trentarnold66 and others.

judebellingham call her easy

view all comments…

yourusername too far

↳judebellingham i’ve got a list of other things to call u but my mum follows me

↳yourusername 🤨🤨

user45 no fucking way

yourusername why would u post that last pic

↳judebellingham so everyone knows how good u are for me

↳yourusername just gagged🥴🥴

↳judebellingham come gag on something else

reecejames surely not bro

↳judebellingham i don’t see what’s wrong

user46 she does seem kinda easy tbf

↳user47 and jude doesn’t?

jobebellingham mate u could’ve kept these private

bestfriendsuser poor barnaby😢😢

↳yourusername dw i cleaned him :))

↳bestfriendsuser i literally cannot stand u

↳judebellingham i left u a little present for next time ur in him

↳bestfriendsuser ur fucking VILE man

↳judebellingham THAT’S NOT WHAT I MEANT

gioreyna u can take that virgin ring off now

———

yourusername

liked by braedenlemasters and others.

yourusername stream i should hate you, out friday!

view all comments…

user48 ur so beautiful… and he’s there

judebellingham tell me ur joking

judebellingham i can sue u for defamation

↳yourusername baby that’s such a big word for u🥺

↳judebellingham i’d be more annoyed if u didn’t look so pretty

↳bestfriendsuser embarrassing👎

user49 FINALLY NEW MUSIC

user50 so SO excited i can’t wait

judebellingham can we talk about how fit i look here tho

↳yourusername no we can’t

jennaortega oh i’m SEATED for this

gioreyna i don’t think u understand how badly i regret introducing u two

↳yourusername you’d be terribly bored without our drama

↳gioreyna yeah but i’d still have my sanity

user51 i just know this new music is gonna top anything else this year

user52 u look gorgeous!! i hope you’ve found happiness

↳jobebellingham don’t count on it

masonmount cant wait to listen💙

↳judebellingham bro have some shame

———

one year later.

judebellingham

liked by jobebellingham and others.

judebellingham so proud of you angel🤍

view all comments…

user53 OMG???

user54 is this the official announcement

yourusername i love u ig

↳judebellingham c’mon u can do better than that

↳yourusername why don’t u come home and i’ll show u just how much i love u

user55 oh she’s gorgeous

user56 jude we want ur girlfriend

reecejames congrats man

gioreyna ur punching clearly

jobebellingham u lasted a whole 12 hours before telling everyone

↳judebellingham ur acting like everyone didn’t already know

user57 this is actually adorable

user58 i want what they have🥺

↳jobebellingham trust me u don’t

masonmount happy for you two!

judebellingham pinned this comment.

↳yourusername do u have to be so petty

↳judebellingham yeah he tried to fuck my girl

↳yourusername MOVE ON

#jude bellingham #hey jude :)#situationship!jude #jude bellingham fluff #jude bellingham smut #jude bellingham blurb #jude bellingham fic #jude bellingham one shot #jude bellingham x reader

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starry-bi-sky · 2 months

Text

childhood friends danny and jason miscellaneous thoughts: because why not, i'm reworking ch2 because it no longer fits with the remaster of chapter 1 so i've been thinking of them, and i love talking about them. which you should totally go read the remaster because its 26k words and im very proud of it and it barely got any attention.

First off Ellie vapes. Mostly because I think its real fucking funny. The first time Danny finds out about it he gets all up in arms about it. Ellie at first thinks its because she's smoking -- which, helloooo pot meet kettle, Danny has been smoking for a lot longer than she has.

And then he throws a curveball at her and says he's upset specifically because its vaping. Like no, no. Dammit, if you're gonna fuck up your lungs you gotta do it properly, none of this cotton-candy flavored nonsense.

He plays it up for laughs and it's largely non-serious 'i can't believe you're using a vape', if only to hide the fact that he is genuinely displeased with his little sister smoking. Self-destructive behaviors and bad habits are his thing, thank you very much.

But, well, he knows he'd be a hypocrite if he told her he didn't like that she was smoking. He's aware its bad for him, but habits are hard to break and he's not particularly keen to break this one in particular.

Danny bullies her relentlessly about it whenever she vapes in front of him. Like don't be a loser, Elle, carry a carton of cigs and a lighter in your back pocket like the rest of us degenerates.

[more under the cut]

Secondly: Danny's piercings? He got the first lobe piercings as a lost bet from Sam in junior year, and they did it in her room with a needle, a small bottle of blood blossom extract, and an apple. He broke out in hives for a week after thanks to the blood blossom, but it prevented the hole from healing up :)

He got the rest done professionally at a piercing place in the Ghost Zone. He asked Johnny where to find it. Sam and Johnny (and Kitty) nearly convinced him into getting snakebites. He got an eyebrow piercing instead.

Danny's undercut is also self-done, he did it because Technus shot at him with an ectoblast and it missed hitting him, but set his hair on fire. Danny got it out pretty quickly, but it left his hair lopsided and obviously looking like it got burned by something. He went to Sam for help after the fight. He liked the way it looks so he's kept it that way since.

Vlad brought up Jason once(1) in a taunt during a fight, and this was after Jason disappeared from the ghost zone, and Danny very. very nearly killed him on the spot. He hasn't done it since.

Which leads into the other thing: Grief Triggers! As I call them. All Banshees have them in this au.

While all banshees are, in general, in a permanent state of grief, Grief Triggers are a specific emotional response that can cause them to spiral into a state of intense, sometimes debilitating sorrow, and most of the time causes them to start wailing.

Banshees know what their Grief Triggers are and in general tend to try and build up a form of resistance against it so that, if something occurs that happens to trigger said grief, they can at least either get away from other ghosts to let loose or have enough control over themselves that it'll take more work to send them spiraling.

As expected, Jason is Danny's grief trigger. He's built up a pretty good resistance to it so that hey, talking about him and his death is easier than when Danny was fourteen. But a little more prodding and it will trigger, especially depending on who brings him up and how. (See: Vlad)

Grief Triggers also manifest relatively the same; with the induction of an intense state of grief and sorrow, but how a banshee acts on it can sometimes vary. Again, it depends on who triggers it and how. Some of them can get,,, violent, depending on how it happens.

Rath, this au's 'Dan', is a case of a banshee being put into the grief state caused by grief triggers and... never really leaving it. Which they usually do on their own, or with help depending on the severity of it.

At the time it happened Danny was going through the worst week of his life a second time: his best friend's ghost disappeared, then his family and friends all died right in front of him, and then he was stuck with someone who wasn't helping him through that grief.

He was already in the grieving state when Vlad tore out his ghost half. As a result, Vlad only made it worse. With that fury thrown into the mix, Vlad ended up getting torn apart and nobody else was close enough with nor could they get close enough to Rath to help him come down from the wailing state.

So Rath ended up getting stuck in a perpetual negative feedback loop of absolute misery, and well... drove himself insane. The rest of the world became collateral as a result.

the difference between Danny and Jason lies in the fact that Jason died, while Danny is dead.

I'm having more thoughts on the CFAU/TMWS universe banshees, actually.

Banshees are either born in the ghost zone from ectoplasm and are ecto-entities and work as banshees as how we know of them, or they're human spirits that died mourning someone and that grief was so intense that it turned them into a banshee. They're a little more rare.

These banshees typically mourn only one person, or sometimes they follow their Realm-born counterparts and choose a family to mourn for. Typically their own.

Ember is not a banshee; human spirit banshees are always mourning another person. However, her abilities emulate certain qualities of banshees: like the beautiful singing. But in comparison to an actual banshee, Ember's voice pales.

Does this mean Danny has the better singing voice? Yeah. Ember is incensed by this.

If canon Danny and CFAU/TMWS Danny met, I think canon Danny would be kinda unsettled or off put by CFAU.

CFAU Danny still has some pretty core Danny traits, at least I like to think so -- his general drive to help people just out of compassion for them (even if it manifests differently at first due to trauma), his wit and humor, his fear of failing to protect his loved ones, all of those resonate with canon Danny.

However, canon Danny, as far as I can remember and as far as his wiki goes, rarely gets extremely angry or emotional. He gets irritated and he gets annoyed but him getting mad I don't think happens super often. CFAU Danny is the angrier one between Jason and Danny. It's one of the things I consider a division point between him and canon Danny as it's a result of him growing up in Crime Alley. Canon Danny is canonically shy and meek prior to becoming Phantom, CFAU Danny couldn't be -- he'd be dead already.

CFAU Danny's anger would off put canon Danny, in my opinion. His anger, his smoking, and for lack of a better term, his bloodlust would unsettle him.

Like, for example, say CFAU Danny gets transported to a canon (or canon-adjacent) Danny's universe. He's staying with canon for a little bit as they brainstorm how to get him back home, and CFAU Danny goes to school with canon if only so that he's not stuck in the house all day.

Whether they try and pass CFAU Danny off as canon's cousin or if the town already knows that he's another version of Danny, it doesn't matter. Because insert Dash.

Dash who, in CFAU Danny's world, has since learned not to fuck around with Danny or the other kids because Danny has long since asserted that he will beat his ass if he does. 'Fucking around' always predates the 'finding out', and Danny is happy to act as consequence.

(As my father told me (paraphrased) when I was a small child and full of uncontrollable anger: "there's gonna be a day where you're gonna hit someone, and they're gonna hit you back")

And canon Dash, who is used to canon Danny who kinda just takes it because it means that he won't target other people, would see CFAU Danny. He'd notice the resemblance between him and canon, immediately try and go "oh new target!", and try and bully him the same way he does to canon. And Danny "I am the consequences of your actions" CFAU Fenton, instantly throws hands.

Just, CFAU Danny is kind but he's also Gotham-raised and full of bite; he's meaner than canon is. He's more ruthless too, especially in his ghost fights. The ease of which he slips into violence would, imo, discomfort canon. CFAU and Canon would eventually get along though, they're not so different that they'd be in constant clash of each other.

(Canon Danny and Danyal Al Ghul however,,, thats another post LMAO)

#cw smoking #cw vaping #dpxdc #dp x dc #danny fenton is not the ghost king #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc crossover #dead on main au #childhood friends au #cfau #dpdc #ugh i could have made this two parts probably #i've had a lot of thoughts on banshees in this au and how i could adjust them #what i didn't get into: the ghostly behavioral affects that danny has gone through since dying. the ghostly mood swings and #heightened emotions that he's had to work through for the last five years.#one of my favorite lines in the remaster is danny mentioning offhandedly that he's gotten better at his mood swings ever since being a ghos #but also implying that vlad has been on the receiving end of these mood swings before and it didnt end well for him #like yessss gurl go through permanent irrevocable changes of your physiology and psyche that has ultimately altered you from the person you #used to be. you are now no longer fully human yess gurl pick up those habits and behavioral changes that is common in the species you've #been turned into even if its only halfway.#iirc i don't think i included obsessions in this au and checking the remaster doc and the word doesn't show up once in all 26k words of it #so hey looks like we get this instead #danny's singing voice is permanently ingrained in my head as sounding like hozier #its very very funny to imagine my au dannys meeting canon danny or canon adjacent danny #cfau seeing dan: who tf is that?? | canon: um.. dan? our evil alternate future self? | cfau: THATS your evil future self??#canon: yeah?? does yours not. look like that? | cfau: NO?#look if dan saw rath he would do a doubletake is all im saying and then would go “what the fuck what the fuck what the fUCK”#turning rath into a horror movie abomination is the fun part of this au and he's never even gonna show up #jason died but danny is dead. it lies in the past and the present. the was and the is. one of us got up and the other didn't

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superhero--imagines · 1 year

Note

hi!!! can i request a really big height difference w xavier

Omg yes you absolutely can.

So Percy H. White is 6’2, which means Xavier is 6’5 (being imaginary means you get three extra inches, congrats)

So if you’re on the shorter end (4’6 to 5’3), or even the modest end of height (5’4-5’8), there’s still a huge gap in height.

Which sounds like it would be super cute. And truthfully when Xavier finally became your bf you thought: “Aw, finally someone to get the stuff from the top shelves, and oversized sweatshirts and it’ll just be so nice having a tall bf.”

And yes it is nice, but only because you like him. Not because he’s tall, him being tall makes it 1000% worse and here’s why:

The man loves to lovingly harass you.

Need a jar from the top shelf? He gives you the sweetest smile before scooting it to an even higher shelf.

“I’ll get it for you if you say please.”

You decide it’s worth the risk of breaking your neck and stand on the counter to get it yourself.

He loves when you do that shit low key

Affectionately uses you as an arm rest or something, wrapping his arms around your shoulders and resting his chin on your head.

“Your heads heavy.”

“I’d dumb myself down, but then we’d both be morons.”

“Says the moron who scored a 32 in Seance class.”

“Pot meet kettle, at least I got a 32 because I fell asleep half way through, what’s your excuse?”

“I just suck at Seance.”

Pictures are a nightmare, it took you months to realize the only time you both look cute together is when you’re sitting down.

He keeps a Polaroid Enid took of you both behind his phone case and looks at it when he’s sad, like the equivalent of a salary man in the 80’s looking at a picture of his s/o in his wallet.

“You’re so small.” He mutters when you’re curled against his side, a quick nap in between studying for different classes in the cozy corner of the library.

And you are. You’re so much smaller than him.

Xavier’s only sixteen but it strokes something primal in him, like he has to protect you.

But he’s smart to know that he’s at that age where emotions are volatile, so he takes a shaky breath, brushes that hair in front of your eyes behind your ear, and uses his blazer to keep you warm.

“Thanks for staying with me.”

#xavier thorpe x reader #xavier thorpe #xavier thorpe x you #xavier thorpe x y/n #Xavier x you #Xavier Thorpe imagine #xavier thrope fluff #wednesday imagine #superhero—imagines

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

Text

Wait, Little Rabbit! (Part 5)

fluff, angst, smut

Bunny Hybrid (Fem) Reader x Human Seokjin x Dog Hybrids Jimin and Hoseok x Cat Hybrid Yoongi x Wolf Hybrids Namjoon, Taehyung, & Jungkook

NSFW. 18+

Part 1 > Part 2 > Part 3 > Part 4 > Part 5 > Part 6

Summary: You, a meek little bunny hybrid, find family amongst six predator hybrids and their lovely human caretaker.

Warnings: group sex but like they are all taking turns with y/n, y/n goes into heat, heats hurt until they are taken care of, a little bit of crying, mentions of birth control methods, vaginal fingering, vaginal penetration, throatfucking, Joon’s control kink, heavy d/s dynamics, slight breeding kink even though y/n is on birth control, slight voyeurism, predator/prey dynamics in a sexual context, abandonment issues

____

The morning is calm, with Seokjin teaching you how to make coffee with the new drip coffee maker he bought. You focus in on his hand movements, watching with fascination as the coffee filters down into the pot. As much as you wish you liked the taste of black coffee, like all the men in the house do, you know that you’ll be pouring your weight in sugar and creamer into your cup.

“My heat is coming up” the words come out shy and unsure. Telling Seokjin such a private matter feels very different than telling your former eighty-four-year-old female caretaker. It can’t be helped that your cheeks turn red, even while your eyes are on the coffee. His movements have stopped though, as he’s put the kettle down to give you full attention.

“How close?”

“Two days”

“How would you like to spend it?”

“I was thinking of asking Jimin and Hobi” you grow redder with each response, but the man just gives a casual nod.

“That’s what I would’ve suggested as well. Do you have any preferences on birth control? I’ve never cared for a female hybrid before, so I’m not sure what to prepare.”

“I, um, I have a chip in my arm” you notice his surprise, “my old caretaker helped me get it.”

“Well, then that’s taken care of. Anything else you need? If you give me a list of your favorite snacks and drinks I can stock them up in the outside room. I like to make sure you guys have enough to recharge during your heats.”

Your heart swells up at just how attentive Jin can be. You could’ve never imagined having a male caretaker in the past; every female hybrid you knew had one bad experience or another with them. Even the most decent ones didn’t feel approachable for such topics—but here you were, with the nicest human male you’ve ever had the fortune of meeting. You can’t help but jump up for a hug, your previous shyness fading away. He chuckles as he holds you in place, heart hurting because of your adorableness.

As the day goes by, you notice the hybrids acting different around you. It starts off subtle, with them zoning out when you come near or eyes lingering on certain body parts that they’ve been too much of gentlemen to stare at before. Namjoon’s the one that addresses the atmosphere first, “y/n…by any chance, is your heat tonight?”

You look at the wolf with confusion, “No, it’s the day after tomorrow.”

They all look at each other, eyebrows raised. “Your pheromones are going crazy bun, are you one hundred percent sure it’s that far away? Maybe you should sleep in the extra room starting tonight.”

To everyone’s surprise, you don’t obediently nod to the Alpha. Instead, you thump your feet and puff out your chest as stubbornly as you know how. “But it’s not for another two days! That’s unfair! I think I know my heats better than anyone else.”

Now, with any other hybrid in the house, Namjoon would be standing firm with his suggestion. However, he’s extra cautious when it comes to you—not wanting to seem like he’s once again belittling your autonomy as a prey hybrid. So, he concedes.

“Okay bun, you know what’s best for you.”

___

“What’s with him?” Taehyung asks upon seeing his usually-laid-back Yoongi hyung visibly tense.

“Eunwoo’s back in town. He’s asked to have dinner with Yoongi and I. He’s just a bit nervous but he’ll be alright. Right Yoongs?”

The cat hybrid lets out an unconvincing yes, brows still furrowed in worry.

“Eunwoo?” You inquire, and Jungkook fills in the gaps.

“Eunwoo hyung is Yoongi’s former caretaker. He was friends with Jin hyung in college and asked him to take Yoongi in when he joined the military.”

“He’s back for a couple days before he’s deployed again.” Jin further explains.

You nod, still a little confused on why Yoongi looks so on edge but deciding it best to not prod further.

“Joonie, take this” Jin says, handing the wolf a credit card, “since both Yoongi and I will be gone, and we can’t be sure the kitchen won’t burn down with just you guys. Order whatever you like.” Namjoon rolls his eyes at the remark, smiling nonetheless.

“I vote tacos” Jimin enthusiastically chimes in. His hybrid counterpart, Hoseok, laughs along, tuning into the conversation while keeping his main focus on Yoongi—stroking the cat hybrid’s back gently the entire time. Yoongi leans into the touch, grateful for Hoseok’s calming presence. Hoseok doesn’t leave Yoongi’s side until the moment Jin has to separate them to get Yoongi out the door, even then the dog hybrid doesn’t miss the chance to help Yoongi put his collar on.

With the two of them alone for the car ride, Jin attempts to soothe the cat’s nerves.

“He really misses you, you know that? The first thing he asked me was how you were doing.”

“Well if he cared that much, he shouldn’t have left.”

The rest of the ride is silent and stiff. Before long, Yoongi finds himself sitting opposite of the man he dreaded seeing. At the very least, Jin is still beside him, holding his hand under the table. Yoongi attempts to hide behind the restaurant menu, but Eunwoo earnestly speaks up.

“What about the ravioli for you, Yoongi? You love ravioli, don’t you?”

The cat hybrid doesn’t dare make eye contact, but his tone is ice cold. “Not anymore. Grew out of it.”

Jin nervously cracks a joke to ease the tension but hurt is evident on Eunwoo’s face. The dinner continues on with the two humans catching up while the cat hybrid picks at his meal. It’s when Jin excuses himself to go to the restroom when the tension is at an all-time high.

“Yoongi, will you please at least look at me? I know I’m not your caretaker anymore, but I’m still trying my best to be a part of your life. Please don’t shut me out.”

It’s the first time that night that Yoongi meets eyes with the man.

“You don’t get to be a part of my life after you dumped me onto someone else.”

Eunwoo’s heart further cracks at the biting remark, coming from the hybrid who used to look at him with hearts in his eyes.

“Leaving you was the hardest decision I’ve ever made”

“Then why’d you do it?”

“Because I had to! Because I was lost Yoongi, and everyday you were with me I was reminded of how I couldn’t do anything for you. You were behind on vaccines because I couldn’t afford them! You couldn’t go to hybrid parks because I didn’t have time to take you! My life was a mess and I felt so selfish for making you go through all of that because of me. The army really straightened me out, gave me the direction I so badly needed—but you and I both know how miserable the hybrids on base are. This is the best thing I could possibly do for you.”

“But I missed you.” Yoongi tries to hold back a choked sob, but tears roll down his cheeks at a faster pace than he can wipe them off. Without a second to spare, his old caretaker is taking the seat besides him, wiping away the tears.

“I missed you too. I’m so sorry it turned out this way, but you’re happy, aren’t you? Jin and all those hybrids, they make you happy, right?”

He nods through the tears, too many emotions all being felt at once.

___

This time the ride back home is much lighter, on both Yoongi and Seokjin.

“You know I like being with you, right hyung? I was never upset that he left me with you.”

“I know Yoongs, you don’t have to worry about me. I know you love us. You also love him, though, and you don’t have to pretend like you’re okay all the time when I can tell you miss him.”

“I just—I thought he’d always be by my side. And then one day he wasn’t. The part that sucks the most is that I am happy now, but I’m worried that this is all temporary too.” He looks out the window, not wanting to voice his fears while looking in Jin’s direction.

“It’s completely valid to have those fears, but I’m not going anywhere Yoongi. Neither are the others. Eunwoo can’t take care of you, but he loves you enough to trust you with someone who can. Someone who will take care of you for the rest of your life.”

Yoongi steals a glance at his caretaker, letting himself believe the words for now. It’s when he’s relaxed more into the seat does the hybrid realize this isn’t the way back home.

“Um Jin, where are we going?”

The man cracks a mischievous smile, eyes still transfixed on the road. “Somewhere that you’ll really like.”

The roads are curvy and uphill, causing the two to swerve with the car on occasion. Yoongi observes the passing buildings with perplexity, not recognizing this as any part of town he’s ever been to. Seokjin keeps his playful air of mystery, looking on amusedly as Yoongi tries to make sense of his surroundings. The car stops into an unfamiliar driveway, the driveway of a house that leans miles high over them—tall and wide frame dauntingly casting a shadow.

“C’mon kitty” is all the older man says before getting out the door and walking to the front door, all while Yoongi sprawls to not be left behind.

“Hyung, can you tell me now?”

“Look” he points to a sign with bold black letters reading ESTATE SALE.

“You brought me to an estate sale?”

“Yup. I want to spruce up the house but I have no idea where to start. That’s where you, our designated interior design expert, come in.”

Yoongi’s heart jumps in excitement, hands already itching to examine every piece of furniture in the ginormous house. Things up until now have been an emotional roller-coaster, but a few hours here is just what Yoongi needs to decompress—and his caretaker is well aware of that.

___

You’re okay. You keep telling everyone around you that you’re okay. You keep telling yourself that you’re okay. Because frankly, you’ve made too much of a scene not to be. The pride you felt when you stood your ground about your heat cycle is still fresh in your mind. But maybe—just maybe—you’ve been too prideful. Maybe Namjoon has a point. Because right now, as you’re in a cuddle puddle with the dog hybrids and Jungkook in the living room, something snaps. It snaps so roughly, so deliciously, that you feel the wind being knocked out of your lungs. Air feels like a secondary need, second to the pleasure you need to be feeling right now. Everything hurts, your core aches, and you know the universe is mocking you right now. You’ve been so adamant about your heat schedule that you entirely ignored the possibility of going into it early—a common occurrence of when a prey hybrid experiences high stress between cycles. It’s never happened to you before, but it happening now makes perfect sense considering your whole life has been twisted inside out since your last heat. You don’t want to draw attention to it, but the intensity building up inside you has tears threatening to pour. The hybrids with you notice immediately, the scent of the air turning unmistakably more pungent. The salty scent of desire, undeniable pheromones of lust swirling around you—too strong for any of them to act indifferent to.

It's Jimin that takes your face into his hands first, startled expression as he sees the pain in your eyes. “Bun…you’re in heat…” His voice is on edge, not expecting this nor knowing what to do. His rational brain would take you to the outside room immediately, but your pheromones are hazing that rationality in all three hybrids. Yoongi was the only hybrid that’s ever helped a prey through heat—the others are nowhere near equipped to handle just how strongly the heat pheromones affect predator hybrids in particular.

“Please help” you cry out, voice breaking in the process.

The words mixed with your scent send the dog hybrids into a primal frenzy. Jimin kisses you hard, sucking on your lips in a manner that’ll no doubt leave them bruised after. Hoseok is tearing your clothes off, as well as losing his own. The youngest hybrid is the only one who stills in hesitance. The dog hybrids are no strangers to taking care of your needs, but Jungkook has never had you in that way before. As high as your scent has him, he still keeps a distance, unsure if you even want him to help you through your heat. He feels guilty even looking—no, ogling—at your nude form right now. The curve of your perky ass, the stiff peaked nipples that top your breasts, your already glistening cunt; every detail he tries to commit to memory, scared he’ll never be able to see it again. He watches with tense posture as Hoseok slides two fingers into your cunt with ease, with you begging for more. He continues watching as Hoseok fucks three long digits all the way into your cunt while Jimin takes your mouth with equal ferocity. You’re beyond the point of forming coherent sentences, heat making you cock dumb and only able to beg. It’s when one of your hands reach towards Jungkook that he stops being just a spectator; Jimin’s cock has you unable to talk, but your eyes and hand motions do well to plead the wolf hybrid to join.

“A-are you sure bun?”

You let go of Jimin’s cock with a pop sound, taking a moment to catch your breath before answering.

“Please Kook…need you…need your cock…please” The words “please” keep falling from your lips like a mantra, in rhythm with Hoseok’s fingers pumping you good.

The oldest dog hybrid is used to taking charge, which makes things a lot easier for everyone in this moment. “You heard her Kook. Our desperate little bun needs your cock. Are you going to deny a poor bunny in heat?”

The wolf shakes his head instantly, doing well to strip out of his all-black clothing. He stands bare, cock straight up and yearning to be inside of you, but even your exquisite pheromones can’t make Jungkook forget his pack hierarchy.

“Joon hyung…I need his permission.”

That’s when a low snicker intrudes the moment between the four of you. You all turn your heads to the wolves’ bedroom door, where Namjoon and Taehyung are standing with hyperfocused vision.

“My little beta never forgets his manners, does he?” The Alpha quips, looking proud. The other beta watches with lust-filled pupils, hiding behind his Alpha as if your scent is something dangerous.

“please…need all of you…it hurts” your trying your best to plead, but Jimin’s assault on your throat makes the words come out raspy. Speaking of the youngest dog hybrid and his cock, he pushes it right back down your throat again. This isn’t like the other time he’s been in your mouth, when he was gentle and had all the patience in the world—right now, he’s a creature of instinct, and his instinct is to breed your mouth.

Namjoon makes his way to the loveseat adjacent from the couch, getting the perfect view of everything. Taehyung follows close by but stops at the couch rather than the loveseat: your scent intoxicating him.

“Go on, I want to see both of my betas stuff that tight little cunt.”

Taehyung’s eyes go wide, and Jungkook thanks his lucky stars that his Alpha is not in a denying mood. If Namjoon is affected by your pheromones, he’s doing a damn good job showing restraint—opting instead to sit back in a commandeering position with his large hand palming over his sweats.

Hoseok helps the Alpha’s command come to fruition, taking his fingers out and gripping your thighs open as invitation for the betas. Jungkook doesn’t waste a single second, plunging into your heat like a possessed man. You gag around Jimin at the sudden intrusion, and the dog hybrid takes himself out to let you adjust for a second. Just for a second, though, because he’s back in your mouth in no time. Jungkook’s head is thrown back in ecstasy, guttural moans spilling with each heavenly thrust inside of you. No one can tell exactly when Taehyung loses all of his clothes, but it’s not long before the other beta is holding his cock in hand, waiting impatiently to feel you.

“Kook, don’t be greedy. Let Tae have a turn.”

“Yes Alpha” his words are readily obedient, but it takes the wolf a lot of willpower to keep from diving back into you.

Taehyung takes full advantage of his turn, getting fully lost in both your cunt and your scent. That’s why he’s also struggling when Namjoon orders another switch. The two betas fuck you like that for a while, taking turns controlled by their Alpha as Hoseok keeps your legs open and Jimin keeps your mouth busy.

It doesn’t help that every time Jimin lets you breathe, you use the time to beg the words “harder” and “more.” The words only egg Jimin on, making him fuck you even harder until he’s emptied his seed deep down your throat.

Jungkook is the first to fill your cunt up, and Taehyung is second (both with the Alphas permission, of course). Hoseok succumbs to temptation and sinks into your cum-filled folds too, leaving his big load in there as well. Without your mouth occupied, screams of pleasure fill the house in no time. It’s during Hoseok’s turn when you get your first orgasm, no doubt because of his skilled movements on your clit. Your high hits as fast and hard as your heat, making every cell in your body ascend in pleasure. It takes a minute for the aftershocks to subside, your legs gradually slowing down in their shaking—as well as the rest of your body. It’s all too much and not nearly enough at the same time: the orgasm leaving you breathless, but your libido still crying out for more. You look at the Alpha, still showing immense restraint, eyes picking you apart alone. His gaze is taunting, and you’ve lost all pride to not give in.

“Joon, please fuck me” it’s the most coherent you’ve been since your heat hit, but you know you need to string a sentence or two together to get the Alpha’s approval. “need you so bad Alpha. Need your cock so bad it hurts.”

He doesn’t say anything back, just cocks an eyebrow at you like he’s expecting something. Like you should know what to do right now. Your mind is cluttered and horny and your grasping at straws to figure out what he’s expecting. You’ve already begged…oh. You’ve only begged. His words from before ring clear in your otherwise hazy mind.

“If you want me, you’ll have to kneel and beg first.”

With no explanation to the other hybrids, you half-fall-half-crawl off the couch, away from their hands on you. They all watch the mixture of cum drip down your thighs, cunt practically slobbering over the couch and carpet as you make your way down. You look right into the Alpha’s eyes, knowing this is what he’s asking for as you crawl over—unable to walk even if you wanted to. It’s when your right in front of the loveseat do you stop, giving him one last pleading look before ducking your head to meet his feet. You let your head fall onto his feet in complete submission.

“Please fuck me Alpha” you get out in your most desperate tone yet.

The Alpha’s smirk grows tenfold.

“Gladly, little prey.”

____

A/N: Thank you guys for waiting patiently as my health recovered and I could put this part out! As always, I’m overwhelmed in the best way with your enthusiasm for the series. The people that comment and reblog especially make me so motivated to write!! As of right now, the next part is planned to be the final. What I have planned for it feels like a natural conclusion to the series. It will be out much quicker than this one for sure!

Taglist: @osakis-gf @strawberrysweetness @yoongiigolden @welcometomyworld13 @xjiminsthighsx @btsiguess-kpop @kirakombat @iheartsvt @pb-n-juju @shabbamadapot @bxcndd @se-oul @mageprincess7 @xoxo-jeans @effielumiere @mrcleanheichou @seajae @uarmyhore @strxwbloody @aquasan29 @sinceritythatcouldntbedelivered @bontensbabygirl @katskeigo @lucymultistan

**It won’t let me tag some blogs, idk why. If you asked to be on the taglist but tumblr won’t let me tag you then I will be DMing you when each part is up!

#bts hybrid au #bts hybrid x reader #poly ot7 #ot7 x reader #hybrid jungkook #hybrid jimin #hybrid taehyung #hybrid namjoon #hybrid hoseok #hybrid yoongi #caretaker seokjiin #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst

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justpoliteconversations · 4 months

Text

Breakdown [Isekai!Reader + Legend/Marin] (Part 1)

In which Isekai!Reader has a breakdown and then proceeds to break reality.

This fic is purely for my own satisfaction as I've yet to find this particular topic explored and I have a mighty need. I've taken liberties. This is self-indulgent trash.

PART: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4

Masterlist

TW: Choosing not to display warnings. Read at your own discretion.

Disclaimer: Don't own The Legend of Zelda franchise. Linked Universe is the fan creation of jojo56830.

---

You'd tried not to get close. From the moment you were tossed through the portal (conveniently right at the Chain's feet), you did everything possible to prevent either side from growing unnecessarily attached.

Didn't stop them from strong arming you into joining them though. As an abnormality from the portal, it was in their best interest to keep you close and monitored. Which was fair, so despite your misgivings you went along peacefully.

Though you made sure to let them know where you stood in all this.

You weren't cruel, per say, but you made sure to keep your distance and openly expressed your disinterest in opening up to them. You just wanted to find a way home, and for the most part they did their best to respect that.

Most of them anyway. Wind was an absolute menace. The boy was relentless in trying to wiggle his way into your good graces, always trying to include you in all his little side-quests and jokes.

It would be cute, honestly, if you didn't know he was trying to pump you for information. Clever, using the kid, if you didn't already know who these men were.

(If you're going to try to act friendly with the target Wind, remember to disarm yourself of obvious weaponry before approaching. Silly boy.)

You'd put money on Warriors having orchestrated most of the interactions between you and the youngest. You may not have as advanced senses as them, but you're not blind. It's obvious Wind is reporting to Warriors and Time the nights Wind takes extra pains to interact with you.

(Not that there was much to report. You stuck to your story. Came from a more futuristic world, don't know why you're here, the Heroes of Hyrule are just stories- myths- where your from. You don't know much about them. Yes, you have some secrets. No, they're not harmful to their merry little band. Pot, meet kettle. You'll show them yours if they show you theirs. No? Okay then. Last you checked, they forced you into their group. "Have a good night Time, I appreciate everything you guys do for me. Goodnight Warriors, Legend, Four. Sleep well.")

For being such powerful, experienced heroes, they're not always the brightest. Must be the influence of their Tri-force alinment. It takes a special type of person to do what they do afterall. YOU certainly wouldn't.

But you degress.

Yes, you did everything within your power to keep yourself separate from them without making them your enemies. Slept away from the group, tried (and sometimes failed) to percure your own food. Refused any gifts, money or luxuries offered to you that did not directly involve your continued well-being.

Hell, you even took to cutting grass in your spare time, just so you had something to offer up with you inevitably needed thier assistance. And wasn't that a shock, to find rupees just laying around in the grass. Money literally grow in plants here.

Mind blown.

("No Wind. You found that one, so it's yours. Thank you for the thought though.")

Overall, you thought you'd done an excellent job of it. They- usually- kept to their part of the camp, you stuck to yours (lonely though it was). You rarely talked to them unless strictly necessary or Wind managed to back you into a metaphoric corner. During travel you watched the world go by, acting as another silent pair of eyes.

You thought you'd managed to keep yourself in check.

What a fool you were. To ever think you could keep yourself from loving these kind, selfless, traumatized, courageous goofballs. How shortsighted, to think you would ever be able to stay impartial to their plight, to their pain.

When the divines cast a hook, you took it with both hands and didn't let go.

You're such a damned idiot.

It'd been one hell of a ride to get to the point of no return. Somehow, you'd stumbled though a second portal just as you and the chain had finished exiting the first. Literally, just walked out the first, moved 5 feet away from Legend (your portal crossing partner that time) and promptly stepped into another portal that'd opened right in front of you.

You'd heard Sky's alarmed shout, the beginnings of Wild's bellow, saw Legend try to make a grab at you from the fading entryway. You witnessed Legend flinch back in shock as a wisp of light pulled from his hand and disappeared into the portal. Saw him fall to his knees, seemingly crumbled in pain.

And then you were gone.

You fell onto warm sand, blinded by bright, warm sunlight directly in your eyes. The smell and taste of salt was so strong you can almost feel it coating your insides.

The sea, you quickly realize. Your back hurts from being tossed from the portal, but you're so, so thankful you landed on dry land and not somewhere in the middle of the ocean. A little pain is worth not succumbing to exhaustion and drowning after a desperate, futile struggle.

You laid there for a moment, shocked and grateful and shivering from adrenaline.

You noticed the portal didn't disappear, and none of the chain came charging through to save you either. You watched it for a while, taking deep breaths to calm your heart and waiting for something to happen.

Should you try to go back through? Why is the sound it makes so damn irritating?

"Are you alright?" A lilting voice asks unexpectantly, startling you from where you're sprawled on the sand. "Oh! Sorry! Didn't mean to scare you!"

It didn't click at first who this woman was. Long, beautiful red-blond hair, freckled, sun-kissed skin and a little red flower swaying in the sea breeze above her head. A sweet but sad smile, with just a hint of grief in her soulful dark eyes.

You were surprised she didn't notice the portal. You wondered why.

"My name's Marin. What's yours."

It should have clicked.

"It's..."

It didn't.

You broke your own rule, unwittingly though it may have been. Don't interact unnecessarily. Don't get involved. Don't put yourself in a position to get attached. Don't think about it too hard.

Don't. Get. Emotionally. Invested.

"Oh! What a lovely name! I wish we'd have met before-" Her eyes flickered sidewards, and it was then you noticed the biggest egg you'd ever seen on top of a volcanic mountain peak. Just there. A nightmare wrapped up in a pretty bow, waiting for someone to open it.

And he did.

It started to break right before your eyes. Light seeping out through the cracks and pouring down the volcano and into the surrounding land. It was not how you remember this going down, but you knew (without a doubt) what this was and what was happening.

The shock must have been evident on your face because she started talking again, soothingly, though her voice cracked with emotion.

You barely heard her, eyes fixated on the sight of a mountain slowly starting to disintegrate. On the sounds of screams in the distance. Of little shapes moving away from the light, like roaches across the mountainside.

Your eyes flickered to the portal, still there, waiting, emitting the most horrendous noise. A long dark corridor stretching out into a vast nothingness.

The sceams continued. Some cut off suddenly. It was a small island, and the mountain tall. It let their voices carry into the lands below.

Your body was cold. Your skin numb and prickling.

You noticed Marin still talking. Her eyes frightened, though she was trying not to show it.

She was trying to distract herself, you realized. "We should go to the village. Say goodbye. I'll-I'll introduce you to my father. You can be part of our family. No one deserves to- to without having a f-family."

You looked at her. Eyes wide open. Throat tight. Heart beating. Mind numb.

That was where she should have been right now, wasn't it. But she wasn't because she was talking to you. She was too far away to reach it.

(She was never meant to reach it.)

She knew that. You could see it in her eyes.

This world could not be this cruel. It couldn't. It just couldn't.

She looked to you with such sad eyes. Wet with unshed tears. So very aware.

No.

She reached out for your hand.

No.

Her fingers cradled yours, warm and soft.

No.

She tugged you slightly, inching closer. Other arm stretching, stretching. Embracing.

No.

Her skin was warm, like sunshine. She smelt of sweet fruit and clean sweat. Her heart was thundering.

No.

It was warmer still where she hid her face in your shoulder. Wet. Damning.

And then a whisper. The flutter of lips.

A secret, breathed like a confession.

"I'm sorry Link. I wish I could have lived for you."

You bent.

You twisted.

You ached.

"Marin. If you had the chance to survive this, no matter how slim, would you take it. Even if it meant giving up everything? Even if it meant having to live with the pain."

She stared at you, bewildered. And then-

Clarity.

"You're like Link. Aren't you?"

"Yes."

Her expression shifted. Beneath the sheen of tears, a fire ignited in her dark eyes. Hope, so strong it scorched the world.

It burned you too. That unyeilding will to survive.

"Take me to him." Her eyes softened, but were no less determined for it. Instead, her resolve set like obsidian. "So we may grief the loss of our family together."

Hook, set. Bait, taken.

Now.

Pull.

---

It was agony. From the moment you grabbed Marin's hand and attempted to enter the portal, it felt as though your entire bloodstream was on fire. Like being unmade and reforged all at once, originating from where your hand connected with hers.

You wanted to pull away, but you didn't. She wouldn't have let you either way. Her grip was an iron vice. Deceptively strong.

She didn't even flinch despite the sweat you could see gathering on her brow, the way her jaw clenched. Her entire body was covered in goosebumps, the hairs on her arms standing on end.

You couldn't imagine what she must be experiencing, if the feeling of her hand alone was enough to arrest your breathing.

You took another step forward. She matched it. It was like walking through wet sand, sticky and unyielding, but not impossible.

You moved one step at a time, slow and steady. Open mouthed panting, sweat running down your faces and soaking your hair, plastering it to your scalps. Your skin was flushed from exertion and you guys hadn't moved more than a few paces.

You weren't even out of sight of the entryway when the light was suddenly ripped away from behind. Leaving nothing but a yawning void.

Marin stumbled, as though her strings had been cut, and you followed. Your entire body was molten lava, bones scorched to nothing.

Someone was screaming. Or maybe you both were. You couldn't tell. Marin was gripping your hand with all her might and you gripped right back. The point of contact felt melted into her skin, like you were a part of her.

Or she was part of you.

Eventually, you felt her start to rise, pulling you with her. You couldn't see, but you knew she still had that fire searing in her eyes. No amount of tear stains could hide her will to live.

She took a step forward, and you followed her into the dark. One, two, three, four....

Time lost it's meaning. You'd long since lost count of the steps you two stumbled through together.

It was getting harder. Each step forward seemed to add another weight to your shoulders. It hurt to breath, it hurt to blink. You stopped opening your eyes a while ago. Your skin felt blistered and cracked.

You and Marin had tried talking, but it wore on her too heavily. She was gasping for air even more desperately than you were, breaths raw and ragged.

More time passed. Each step got harder. You were stumbling more than you were walking.

You were sure your nose was bleeding. You could taste the iron in your mouth, where liquid dripped over your upper lip. You couldn't feel your face.

Then Marin threw up. Fell to her knees and just kept puking and puking, struggling for precious air, whole body convulsing. You reach down blindly with your other hand to try to get her hair out of the way.

You overshot and your hand ended up in the spray (it was perfectly smooth like water, not at all natural). It felt like liquid metal across your skin, ripping a scream from your throat.

The smell of burning flesh hit your senses as you curled around your arm, the limb pulsing under you.

You could feel tension building in your body, heavy and foreboding.

Marin was crying. She was shaking. She retched again.

She clutched your hand like a lifeline, desperation corded into every muscle in her fingers. You squeezed back with everything you had, reassurance you were still there in the total darkness.

The tension snapped.

Then her hand went limp, only your grip keeping her from fully slumping to the ground. Dead weight.

"Marin?" You rasped, voice shaking with pain and shock. "Marin?"

She didn't respond. She didn't move. Her limp body slumped against your side, like a branding rod searing through your clothes.

Your heart raced in panic and it gave you the strength needed to pull your still burning arm from beneath you and feel for her pulse.

You found it. Faint. So faint it was a mere whisper, but there.

Ahead of you, an endless void. Behind you, the gapping maw of nonexistence. Nothing in all directions but the limp body leaned against your leg. The sound of the portal just kept growing louder, like metal scraping in your ear.

Your body was so heavy. Your skin seemingly peeled back and exposed, burning against the agony of existence.

You broke.

You shattered.

You felt.

"It doesn't get to be this way." You panted, eyes open, seeing nothing and stinging like hornets. "No. You don't get to do that."

Emotion rose like a tidalwave within you, boiling under the surface of your skin. You turned your eyes up, casting your gaze into the void there.

"You don't get to do that to them. You don't get to keep hurting them like this. They're not toys. They're real."

You swallowed thickly.

"They're real."

The emotion boiled over. The dam broke. Everything else was lost to the Rage.

"YOU!" You screamed, voice shrill, hot liquid falling from your lips as something stretched and burst. "Don't! Get! To! Keep! Hurting! Them! You don't get to do that! They're people! They're real people with real feelings and pain, Goddamnit!"

You were lost to that rage. The feeling that had haunted your every waking moment since the moment you fell through that first portal. Since first you realized where you were.

From the moment you realized who they were and what that meant.

"You don't get to take anything else from them! You hear me! Not a single. Damned. Thing. More!" You spat. "I will not allow it! I! Reject! It!"

You hauled Marin forward inch by agonizing inch with strength you should not have, using spite that ran so deep it tore at peices of your soul.

You weren't even looking forward anymore (what need have you to know when the torment ends, when you're never going to stop. not until death takes you). Instead, you'd braced your feet firmly and started hauling yourself backwards, back arched so far you were nearly sitting.

"I will not let you keep hurting them for your entertainment!" You screeched, not caring how it hurt. Not caring how spit and snot and blood ran down your chin. How sweat soaked straight through your clothes, stinging against the aching rawness of your skin.

You pulled, both hands latched onto Marin's one. The universe pulled back, trying to take this precious being from your grasp. Your progress was halted.

You snapped.

"FUCK YOU! FUCK YOU NITENDO. FUCK YOU GAME PEOPLE. FUCK YOU PLAYERS! AND FUCK ME TOO! FUCK ME FOR EVERYTHING I EVER DID TO HURT YOU! FUCK EVERYONE WHO EVER HURT YOU FOR FUN!"

You screamed then, rasping, tearing and wordless. Just kept screaming and pulling against the universe. Against the pain. Against the unfairness of it all.

The universe pulled again and you snarled like a beast, grip so tight on Marin's wrist you felt something cracking. She felt like Hellfire under your hands.

It only enraged you more.

"You don't get to have her! You don't get to hurt him anymore! You don't get to hurt any of them! They're mine now! You! Don't! Have! The! Right! THEY'RE MINE!"

A choked rasp, iron flooding your throat as the nosebleed gets worse.

"Marin is mine! Legend is mine! Hyrule is mine! Wind is mine! Warriors, Sky, Four are mine! Time and Twilight are mine! Wild is mine!"

Another step back, an inch gained.

Again, and again, and again.

"I'm going to take back everything you stole from them!" You howl into the void, uncaring of how absolutely broken your voice had become. "The moment you let your guard down, I'm taking everything! You. HEAR! ME!"

"I'M TAKING EVERY-"

The universe let go and you fell.

...and Marin fell with you.

Suddenly, there was gentle light filtered through leaves, cool spring air and the faint call of birdsong. No endless darkness or scorching magma in your veins or the infernal screech of portal magic in your ear. Just bliss.

And then your body reminded you that it was not fine.

Your muscles seized, tightening in painful reminder of the strain you had put them through. Your skin stung like sandpaper burn from head to toe, your lungs ached so fiercely it drew tears to your eyes.

Eyes tightly closed and teeth gritted, you curled around the limp body sprawled at your side, limbs intermingled as your body spasmed through the pain.

Then, there were hands on you and you cried out in agony.

Someone shushed you, soundly oddly choked and quiet as another pair of hands gently tried to move you. Then several.

You refused. Arms tightening around the precious being trapped in your embrace. You fought with what little strength you had left, sobbing as the hands managed to pry you loose.

You wailed in dispair.

Someone sobbed with you.

You finally succumbed to your body's desperate demands to escape the pain. You drifted away to the feeling of gentle arms cradling you close, of soft whispers in your hair.

Finally, peace found you. If only for a time.

---

Perhaps there will be a part two. Maybe even venture into yandere territory. Who knows.

I must return to the shadows once more to recharge.

#Linked Universe #Legend x Marin #Legend needs a hug #Let Legend be Happy #Linked Universe x Reader

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