#winter landscape painting step by step | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

ceilidho · 6 months

Text

landscape with honey

summary: price/reader bear shifter fic. PART 4. (read the whole thing on ao3 here) tags: light daddy kink, breeding kink, very nsfw, she/her pronouns for reader

He starts showing up at your house at odd hours.

You’re fixing coffee in the morning, still fuzzy and warm from sleep, only to hear the sounds of hammering outside. Wrapping yourself in just a housecoat, you find John fixing the loose step on your stairs, barely sparing enough time to greet you before returning to the task at hand. When he finishes, he brushes off your attempts to pay him for the job, just loading his tools back in the car and driving off.

You sip your coffee and wonder. Odd.

The next day, you find him raking the leaves in your lawn. Two days later, he shows up at the grocers when you’re picking up produce, and helps you carry all your bags to the car. He also adds a peculiar amount of canned goods to your order and when you fret and try to tell him that you don’t need the pickles and sauerkraut and beans and all of that stuff, he just lays a hand flat on your head and drags it down your hair until you go quiet.

He pays for the whole order.

You’ve never had to wonder about a man’s actions. Men are largely inscrutable to you, ever-shifting. They say one thing and mean another. They look at you like one might look at an oil painting, entitled something like Virgin Meeting Her Lover’s Eyes From The Top Of The Staircase or Landscape With Virgin. They speak to you as though an answer were entirely antithetical to their purpose in conversing with you.

John listens to you with a focus that borders on intimidating, like he wants to hear each word enunciated exactly how you might enunciate it. It has the sharp clarity of respect, of a mutual acknowledgement of humanity. He also comes over to fix your sink without you having to ask. The world of men is still largely confusing to you.

John grows surlier as the days grow shorter though. He doesn’t snap or snarl at you the way he does sometimes with his recruits (you rarely see him interact with them, but sometimes you’ll drop him off his lunch on the days when you’re feeling particularly generous and that’s when you’ll have the rare pleasure of hearing him shout at a trembling twenty-three year old for littering on the trail like a military captain), but it’s a near thing.

The worst is when he catches you on a jog one morning on his drive to work. You see his truck with the faded red paint pass you by and you give a short wave that he returns. He passes you by about half a yard before coming to a full stop and reversing. You stare at him as the window rolls down, brows furrowed.

“Hi Jo—” you start.

“Get in the car,” John growls. You hear the doors unlock.

“…My uh…my shift’s in two hours, John, I can’t just—”

“Get in the car.”

“This is my only time to exercise!”

“If I have to get out of this car and drag you inside, honey, I will. Don’t play with me. Get in.”

You get in the car. Probably wisely. Still dripping sweat and shivering from the cold—you’re not used to jogging in the winter, or at all for that matter, but it seemed like as good a time as any to start—you glance over to stare at the side of John’s face. His jaw is set, almost as if in anger. His knuckles are white over the steering wheel as he makes a U-turn and drives back into town. The cab of his truck smells like flannel pulled out from the back of a closet, almost musty, but comforting in the way that old clothes can sometimes smell. There’s a cigarette ashed out in the dish in front of the centre console.

He takes you to the nearest bakery for coffee and a breakfast muffin and stares you down until you eat the whole thing. You feel like you have to scarf it down. Customers bustle into the bakery to order coffee to-go and fresh cookies and scones in waxy paper bags; everyone in town knows each other so you try to avoid the more curious stares when they’re turned on you.

“This is weird,” you say, staring down at the crumbs on your plate. “This is really weird.”

“This is what you get for exercising before winter,” John says, flagging down the barista for another muffin and a refill on your coffee. “Waste of calories.” The last part is said derisively, almost with a scoff.

You frown. “Lots of people exercise. Even when it snows.”

“Winter is a time for hibernating. Not…sweat,” he says with a grimace, like the very thought is anathema to him.

"Hibernating?" you repeat skeptically, scrunching up your nose. "I mean, I spend a lot of time indoors, but I wouldn't say I'm hibernating."

John stares at you until you look away, flushed. "Finish your breakfast."

The barista returns with another blueberry muffin and a fresh cup of coffee. At least John's the one paying. When he finally seems satisfied, he hustles you home and leaves you off at the door with a stern warning.

“You gonna be good for me this time?” he asks, a finger curled under your chin, tilting your head up. One of his hands curls around the doorframe and your heart jumps when you hear the wood creak under his grip. This close, you can see the faintest silver streaks at his temples and the flecks of it in his beard.

“It was just a light jog,” you mumble, looking away.

“Not a light anything,” he warns, ducking closer until you feel like shrinking back, like disappearing into your house. “Bake a cake if you have to burn off energy so bad. I’ll be over around seven, alright?”

You mumble something, the words getting lost in themselves. It’s impossible to think with John in your space like this. It’s only when he finally pulls away and ambles back to his truck that you rock back on your heels, let go of whatever spell he had you under.

The first week of December hits town like a truck.

You’re trudging home alone after your shift when you make the decision to cut through the forest because you missed the last bus and you don’t want to spend an hour walking home. The first snow of the season has caught you off guard, clad in boots too autumnal and a sweater too thin for the biting cold. The flakes fall in thick chunks that stick for a brief moment before melting into the skin.

It’s not the first time you’ve travelled through the forest alone. The town is surrounded by pockets of the forest, like it can’t help enveloping whatever space is left for it. Oftentimes it’s easier just to cut through the woods rather than travel the long way around. You wouldn’t even call this the forest proper, not like the acres of trees sprouting over the mountains just off in the distance.

A bush rustles. Your eyes flick over for a second, breath hovering in your chest before you decide that it’s just a squirrel. Nothing ever happens in a town like this. The man from the other day notwithstanding, nothing truly bad ever happens. You keep walking down the partially demarcated path, lit only by the full moon overhead. It’s so dark that the snow around you is almost blue.

The bush rustles again. You stop this time, feet staying planted in the snow long enough for your feet to grow cold. You stare at the dark shoots covered in a layer of snow; it stripes the branches like candy from a time ago, licorice twisted with white bark, and it doesn’t move when you look at it. The bushes and trees are dense, impossible to peer through. Even walking through the forest doesn’t make you feel immersed in it. You follow a barely marked path, hard to see through the recent snowfall, and stare out into the dark woods with a kind of animal sense. Not sure whether you’re alone, whether something’s there with you, and whether it’s sensed you or if you’ve sensed it first.

You start walking again when your feet go numb. Better to just get home.

It comes behind you again as a slightly louder rustle. It’s harder to shake off the fear this time, harder to say that it’s just the wind. The snow crunches under more than one set of feet, branches cracking under the weight of something larger than you.

You don’t want to turn around, but the sound of something chuffing makes your stomach drop. The first thing that emerges when you turn to face it is its massive head, a white frosted muzzle, and the visible hump on its back. The wispy smoke of its breath puffs out when it breathes. Its eyes are dark, hardly reflecting any light at all. Then the rest of it emerges, the saplings bending out of its way as it clambers out of the woods and onto the path, staring you down all the while.

You’ve never seen a bear before. Not this close. Not so close that you know it’s been stalking you, know that it didn’t come upon you by accident. You’re staring down at your own body from somewhere else, fear displacing you. Rending you from your own body. There’s no way to guess its weight at a glance, but it’s easily twice the size of you, easily more than that.

When it takes a step forward, everything goes dark.

You wake up snuggled under the warmth of a thick blanket. Sleep is creamy thick, engulfing you on all sides, only the faintest prickle of awareness letting you know that you’re awake.

It’s unpleasant to leave the cotton miasma of sleep, you think. Your nose scrunches up and you let out a tired huff, trying to will yourself back into it. The harder you try to force yourself back into it though, the farther away it floats.

Still it weighs you down. It takes an age to work up the energy to so much as twitch a finger. Even your eyelids insist on staying shut. Yet, the prickle of consciousness needles at you as if to say hello, wake up, you need to get up. You sigh and try to shimmy up onto your elbows.

A hand shoves you back down. The breath rushes out of you.

“Get…back down,” a rough voice grunts from over you and then the full weight of a man settles on top of you, pressing you deep into the mattress.

Consciousness snaps back into you, elastic sharp. The weight of him pins you to the bed, makes you sink into the plushness of—and this is gradually coalescing in your mind—an unfamiliar place. All four corners of your body are trapped under him. The voice is familiar though. Ragged, brutal. A saw taken to the trunk of an old, thick tree, too many interior rings to count. You whisper John’s name and he grunts, making you flinch from how the sound reverberates through the side of your head.

Exhaustion is thick though and it leaves you heavy, even when John slowly lifts himself to his elbows from behind you. You feel him drag his body down the length of the bed, beard scratching into your skin with every petal soft kiss dropped along your spine during his descent.

“John?” you whisper, only just able to turn your head, not even able to struggle up to your elbows. “J-John?”

He doesn’t answer you. The room is near pitch black, only a window on the other end of the room with the curtain pulled back the smallest amount enough to let the moonlight in. Even the moonlight isn’t enough. You know from the shape of the window that this isn’t your house, that it must be somewhere else. You can only surmise from John’s presence that it’s his, but that thought passes over you like a rock skipping over water.

“Wher’m’I?” you murmur, eyes fluttering shut when his lips press over the small of your back. Sensitive there.

Rough hands with callused fingertips smooth over your ass, pressing into the flesh. His fingers pry your cheeks apart, thumbs dipping into the space between and pressing over your hole, making you burn all over. You’re too far gone to worry about any hair on your legs or anything about your body other than John’s hands undulating over your ass and thighs. You flinch violently when his teeth sink into the meat on the underside of your ass, so tender that even exhausted to the bone your body lashes out.

Big hands pry your legs apart. You flinch at the sudden hot breath over your sex, a whine tickling your throat. His face hovers so close to your centre that the tip of his nose presses on the tender skin near your entrance.

“Wha’ d’you…think you’re doin’...” you ask breathlessly. Your brain tries to order your leg to kick, but it stays flat and limp on the bed.

The first touch of John’s tongue along your slit makes you melt, the flat of his tongue lapping upward and making your hips tilt up with it. It almost makes your mind go blank again, almost tips you back into the unconscious world because the synapses in your brain stop firing the second you remember that it’s John between your legs licking hungrily at your cunt. John from the grocery store, John from the ranger’s station in the mountains—the John you’ve been crushing on and coveting for months now, content to just be friends with the gruff, handsome man in the house next to yours. Now sucking one of your nether lips into his mouth and tracing his tongue up the inside, gliding it over the supple flesh.

“Yer in the den,” John mumbles into your pussy and it’s like he sears the words into your brain. “‘N I’m takin’ care of you, honey.”

“The…the den…?” It’s so hard to keep your thoughts in order. Each flick of his tongue makes you gasp, pussy growing wetter and hips grinding languidly down on his face.

He hums instead of answering.

“Why’m’I so tired?” you slur.

His tongue saws over your clit from behind. It tears a broken whimper from you. You feel every textured ridge, the way it flicks around in a circle and then up and down again.

“Winter season,” John says, sucking your clit into his mouth until you whine at the top of your lungs. “Bear’s sleep in winter.”

“Tha’s silly. M’not a bear,” you moan.

“No,” he agrees, humming into your sex. “Jus’ mated to one. Makes you sleepy too, honey.”

“Mated?” you repeat back, but it’s lost in the way you moan when he eats your pussy from the back, licking into you with renewed vigour. Hungry like a bear. Grunting like a satisfied man, slurping loud enough to make your face heat up.

Words and old memories about bears hardly matter when the handsome man from next door spreads your legs wide, almost to the point of pain, and sinks his tongue into your hole again. You never would’ve expected John to be vocal, but he’s noisy behind you, groaning into your cunt. He keeps mumbling things under his breath that you can’t catch.

“John—” you gasp, biting your lip when he sucks your clit into his mouth again. “John—John—”

He only has to give you a single finger to tip you over the edge, feeds it in nice and slow. Your cunt clenches down at the intrusion, teeth nearly breaking through the skin of your lip.

When he crawls back over you, anticipation makes you shudder. You hear something faint in the background that grows steadily louder as John rests his elbows on either side of your head, until you realize that it’s your own voice murmuring, “Put it in, put it in, put it in—”

He obliges. A thick, steady plunge that hardly manages more than a handful of inches before you’re crying, and it’s too much, too much, too much. Pleasure not a limpid pool anymore but something cavernous and deep-dwelling, pulling you in or trying to make a home inside of you for it. John’s biceps tense with the strain of holding himself back.

You balance on the knife’s edge between pleasure and pain. There’s a single thought in your head that it might burn you up from the inside; it runs a jagged hole through you.

His nose drags through your hair. “Never expected you. Thought I’d go another season alone ‘till I started smellin’ you around town.”

You hiccup. “Y’never—never paid me any attention ‘for— before, ah—”

“‘Course I paid attention to’ya, honey,” John says into your ear, grunting when he drives deeper into your pussy, still just a languid grind of his hips, so mind-numbingly slow that your thoughts sizzle out of your head. He keeps dragging his hips back and plunging in, barely pulling away from you, all skin on slick skin. “Made a home for m’self in your house. Made sure we had ‘nough to eat for the winter.”

“The winter?”

“Won’t be goin’ anywhere for a few months.” He brushes your hair out of the way to kiss down your neck, giving in to the urge to bite just a little. His body stays pressed tight to yours, hardly an inch of space between the two of you. “Wasn’ sure at first if it’d be here or in your house so… fuck, I had to get ready. Make sure you’d be safe when it hit.”

“Don’ even…know wha’ that means,” you mumble into the mattress, then squeal and fist the fists when John shoves a hand under you to grope your chest.

“Don’t worry about it,” he shushes you. “All y’have to do now is lie there ‘n take my cock, okay, honey? Can’ya do that for me? I’ll get some food in you after we’re done, then send ya back to bed.”

Only a whine comes out when you open your mouth. John’s arm by your head forces you to breathe in the scent of him, musky and rich. You stare at the hair on his knuckles and his thick fingers gripping the sheets as well, old nicks and scars decorating his hand. You can’t stop staring at his fingers and thinking that he had one of those in you before, that he’s felt you from the inside.

He never pulls away, never changes positions, just fucks you on your tummy in his bed. You’ve never been in John’s bedroom before, but this has to be his room—even the pillowcase smells like him, pine needles and cigar smoke. He keeps up a steady pounding into your cunt, rutting like a wild animal. Has to be close. Gets so close to you that you feel smothered, trapped in place. Like if you struggled, he wouldn’t let up. You want to test it, see if you could, but the heaviness is still in your limbs, keeping you docile. Convenient. A little convenient thing for him to use, like a doll to get himself off with.

“Never coulda imagined such a pretty girl f’r me,” John groans, getting a grip in your hair to twist your head, tugging you into a kiss. Your whole body sparks to life, so shocked that you can’t even kiss him back at first. You wait until he pulls back, staring into his half-lidded eyes through the mess of your hair all tangled up around you. “Gave up on thinkin’ there was anyone out there. Thank fuck I found you first, honey. Can start workin’ on all the good stuff now. Get you to give daddy a baby.”

“D-daddy?” you gasp back, almost scandalized.

He pants into your shoulder, worked up now. “Yeah, honey. Don’ I take care of you? Buy y’r food, fix y’r house? Give you someplace nice ‘n warm to sleep?”

You feel soaked with sweat, twitchy, on the verge of something dangerous. Vision all fogged up, heart beating so fast that your skin buzzes. Stretched out on a fat cock and pinned in a man’s bed, nowhere to run or hide.

“Y-yeah,” you stutter when John gets a bit rougher, his breathing getting more staggered, laboured.

“That’s right, girl,” he grunts, “I’m y’r fuckin’ daddy then, aren’t I?”

Magma bubbles up from deep inside of you. Rockslides off in the distance beat against the ground. When you cry out, it gets lost in the rubble.

You stumble into the living room maybe hours later after using the washroom across the hall. Maybe a day later. It’s hard to say how many times the sun has risen and fallen behind the mountains. The clock face stares back at you uncomprehendingly.

Come drips out of you onto the floor. Thick droplets run down your inner thighs. John is still sleeping in the bed where you left him, snoring like a chainsaw. It must’ve been what woke you up. There’s no way of knowing how long it’s been since he first brought you home, since he left a mess in your pussy, which is still puffy and sore from rough use. You walk with halting little steps to try to minimize the ache.

You stare bleary-eyed around the room. It feels somehow different than the previous times John’s had you over; there are more throws and blankets draped over the couch, candles scattered around the living room with a lighter on the mantle.

There’s a fire roaring in the fireplace, blanketing the house in a layer of warmth. It makes you sluggish, stumbling forward only a handful of steps before the shaggy rug in front of the fire drags you back down to the floor.

“What’re you doing out of bed, pretty girl?” someone rumbles from behind you.

“Had t’pee,” you say, blinking. You try to rub the sleep out of your eyes unsuccessfully. “Why’m’I still so tired? It’s been…I slept so long…”

“C’mon, honey,” John says, coming up behind you and curling his arms around you, pressing a kiss to the crown of your head. “Told you it was gonna be a long winter. Maybe just one more and then somethin’ to eat, okay?”

It’s easy to sink to the floor, so easy. Especially with the fluffy rug under your feet. Especially with the fireplace toasting you from the outside in, the tinder crackling in the hearth. Everything in the house is dark and warm, only the fire giving you any light at all. Outside the window, the moon is still heavy in the sky.

Something about the humidity of the den makes you suddenly so tired, boneless, pliable when he goes to move you, when John curves himself around you in the furs and reaches down to slide a hand between your thighs.

He grunts when he finds you wet and wanting, sinking a couple fingers in and palming your clit. He doesn’t talk much still, but he says good girl when he cants your hips and slowly stretches you out on his cock. Feeds it into you achingly slow, like molasses. Like nothing’s due for another few months, so why rush it? He’ll take his time so you’re nice and happy and sweet come spring for cubs.

You’re not sure what that means. The pace is slow and deep, like before but less intentional. Like he just wants to savour the warmth of your body.

When he finally comes deep inside you, your body goes limp, collapsing in a heap onto the rug. You expect John to pull out and turn over, maybe pull you onto his chest so you have somewhere to rest. Instead, he sighs all tired and content, and stays in you, still plugged up in your cunt, his spend only just starting to leak out into a pool beneath you.

“Are we gonna eat?” you mumble, already half-asleep.

Somewhere behind you, he laughs; it’s soft like a snowfall in winter. “Yeah, honey. After a nap, we can eat.”

#ceil writing #cod mw2 #cod x reader #captain price #captain john price #cod price #john price #price/reader #price x reader #price x you #john price x reader

2K notes · View notes

scarletlizzard · 4 months

Text

Part 4: Cat and Mouse

Sessions Series

Parings: dark Wanda x female reader

Tags Minors DNI: smut, mentions of gun/knife, choking, strap on usage (R receiving), major manipulation, toxic, stalker

Masterlist

A/N: Thank you, everyone, for reading my first series! It's been so fun to write. If you have any questions, let me know! I'm thinking of writing an epilogue for it if yall are interested? To show where they are now. Let me know what y'all think 🩷

Early Spring 2016

Wanda tilts her head to the side, a smile on her face as she looks at the painting on the wall.

It's a Renaissance-style painting. A woman draped in elegant attire is depicted running gracefully across a grandiose landscape. Her flowing garments billow behind her as she glances over her shoulder with a mix of fear and excitement in her wide eyes.

Behind her, a single shadow looms ominously, its form elongated and exaggerated. The scene is bathed in soft, golden light, casting long shadows and creating a sense of darkness.

The woman's delicate features and intricate clothing are painted with meticulous detail, while the surrounding scenery showcases the artist's mastery of perspective and depth. The painting seems to capture the eternal struggle between light and darkness.

Wanda felt drawn to it. Something about it was pulling her in. This was her fourth time coming to see it, the gallery being just down the block from her office.

"Haunting, isn't it?" A voice, possibly the most alluring voice she had ever heard, speaks from next to her.

"It's breathtaking," Wanda mutters. Her eyes focus on the woman in the painting, then to the dark shadow behind her.

"The shadow, it never stops chasing her. She's constantly looking back over her shoulder, wondering.." The voice speaks again.

"Wondering what?" Wanda asks.

"Wondering when she'll be caught. It's all a game, see?" A finger points to the small plaque underneath the painting. The title of it read:

Cat and Mouse

***

Current Winter 2018

You felt a sense of deja vu as you ran throughout the house. A sense of unexpected excitement flows through you as your feet carry you to the front door - locked.

As you run down the hallway, your breathing picks up. You hear Wandas loud steps stalking behind you at an even pace. The back door - locked.

Down another hall, door after door - locked.

Running up the stairs you take in Wandas words,

"When I find you, I will fuck you."

You couldn't ignore the ache between your legs or the partial truth to her reasoning.

Had you gone and sought out for a stalker? No, but once your shadow appeared, your life became more interesting. You felt a spark inside of you, and you felt it last night, too.

You find an open door and shut it behind you, quickly locking it. With your back against the hard wood, you take a second to catch your breath. When you hear footsteps from the end of the hall, you also hear Wandas voice.

"Don't forget what I said, darling.." A door opens and closes, the footsteps draw nearer.

A small smile plays on your lips.

You were just as fucked up as she was.

***

Early Spring 2016

Wanda turns to the woman next to her, taking in her bewitching appearance.

"Did you paint this?" Wanda asks. You nod, smiling as you stare at your art.

"I did. I still can't believe it's here," you chuckle to yourself. She watches curiously as you tap your leg 4 times with your finger.

"It's amazing. You are truly talented.." Wanda continues to stare at you.

"Thank you, it's... it's very personal," you say with a nod, turning to the stranger. "She needs the shadow to keep pushing forward, but she'll never admit it to herself."

Before either of you can say anything else, your phone rings. "Excuse me for a moment," you say with a smile, answering the call.

"Hey mom, is everything okay?" Wanda hears you ask as you walk away from her.

She looks at the painting, then to you standing on the other side of the room. A smile slid into a crooked grin on her face, and Wanda knew it was fate.

***

Current Winter 2018

You look around the room you entered, some sort of a guest bedroom. You needed a way out.. Right?

Yes, you needed to get out.

You move around the room, looking for some type of makeshift weapon, but find no such thing. Wandas footsteps stop outside the door, you stand still near the neatly made bed.

"I know you're in there, pretty girl.." The door knob wiggles as she tries to open it, finding it locked. Wanda chuckles darkly.

"Dear Shadow," her voice carries through the door, your eyes widen. There was no way she knew the next words.

"You scare me.. You frighten me.."

"Stop it!" You scream, putting your hands over your ears.

"You scare me because I'm afraid I'll never be able to live a normal life. You frighten me because I like being chased.." Wanda quotes the note you left, the one you thought was locked away in a box underneath a pile of clothes in your closet. The door handle wiggles again.

"You make me feel something, something I know isn't right. I won't play your game.." She finishes talking. And you feel your hands shaking.

"H-How did you get that note?" You ask, fists balled up at your sides. You think back to a session where Wanda even asked you about the note. A note she apparently had, for how long you weren't sure.

"Do you really think I've only been inside of your house the once? You're smarter than that little mouse."

Your stomach dropped again, a sick feeling in your gut at the realization of her words. Wanda had been more a part of your life than you had even realized.

***

Late Summer 2016

Wanda watches from across the street, hidden in the shadows as you unpack boxes in your new home. It had been two months since your mother's funeral, 4 months since she began watching you. She dropped the cigarette she was smoking onto the ground, kicking it out with her foot. She watches as a red-headed woman helps you hang up a painting on the wall. Wanda smiles. It was almost time to begin the game.

***

Fall 2016

"Natasha? Hey!" Wanda says with a perfect smile, a hand runs through her hair.

"Oh my god, hey! We just keep running into each other." Natasha smiles warmly.

Happenstance, right ... Wanda thinks to herself as the red head reaches out her hand. She shakes Natashas' hand with a friendly grip.

"I know it's so crazy! Hey, do you want to grab a coffee sometime? Might as well if we're going to keep seeing each other around," Wanda laughs and looks around the grocery store she's never shopped at before.

"That would be so great, I know a great cafe just down the block.."

***

Winter 2016

Wanda stands outside in the shadows. The same red wine is poured into a glass as you stir a pot on the stove. She watches as you look through the window, squinting your eyes. You shake your head and gulp the rest of the wine down, not knowing you were staring right at her.

A vibrate from her pocket pulls her attention, and she looks at the text she received:

Natasha- Hey Wanda! Throwing a Christmas party next Saturday. You in?

Wanda- I'll be there.

You saw in the corner of the room a woman, standing alone. Her eyes watch over the room as she sips out of a red solo cup. She looks.. familiar, you can't quite place it. With the confidence of Rum on your tongue, you walk over to the angelic looking woman. She has a crooked smile on her face as you approach her.

"Wanda," she says after you introduce yourself. It wasn't long after that you were screaming the name for hours in your bedroom.

***

Current Winter 2018

"Now open the door, darling.." Wanda says. You hear 4 taps on the door, not from her hand. You can only assume it was by the knife you saw her unsheathe downstairs.

"And then what? What's the endgame, Wanda?" You ignore her command, standing in front of the door as you question her. She's silent for a while, so quiet you began to wonder if she had disappeared.

"Tell me you don't like the chase. Tell me you hate the way I make you feel. Tell me you want me to stop," she speaks calmly, voice unwavering. You can practically hear the smile on her face as she says, "Tell me all of those things, pretty girl. And if you say it, if you mean it.. I will leave you alone. You can go back to your regular, boring life. The same routine every day. No one chasing after you, pushing you forward. No more shadows."

You swallow hard at her words, mouth open to speak, but no words come out. Wanda will leave you alone, just tell her you're done. Back to reality. Back to...

Wanda stands outside the door, waiting for too long. She reaches into her pocket and takes out a key, unlocking the door. When she opens it all the way, she feels a cool air blowing strands of her hair back. Wanda looks around once. You were nowhere to be found. She laughs and shakes her head, walking to the open window where the breeze flows into the room. Snow floating in gently.

You couldn't say those words to her and mean it. Wanda had run into your life and caused chaos, but you wouldn't be truthful if you said it was already fucked up. With Wanda you felt alive. You felt important. You couldn't live without the dangerous chase.

With windswept hair and an exhilarated look on your face, you dash through a pristine blanket of snow, your bare feet leaving delicate imprints behind you. With each step, a mix of excitement and trepidation dances across your features, your heart racing with the thrill of the moment. The feeling of the snow sticking to your hair and the flakes underneath you heightens the sense of vulnerability and adrenaline coursing through your veins.

It didn't take long for you to hear the familiar pace of Wandas stride coming from behind you.

You make for the trees.

***

Summer 2017

Wanda unscrews another bolt, wiping the sweat that dripped down to her brow. She stands from the AC unit on the side of your house, the mechanical noise coming to a halt. The birds in the trees above her chirped loudly, signaling the sun rising from a distance. She walks away, with each step assuring her imminent return.

****

Current Winter 2018

You find solace behind a tree. Gasping for air, your chest heaving with each breath. As you glance around, all you see are dark trees speckled white with snow. The treetops covered the forest that stood behind Wandas house, the sun peaking through its leaves and branches to light a golden path on the mossy ground.

A branch breaks from behind you. Your hands move to cover your mouth as you hear the steps of your shadow.

****

Summer 2017

"Such a pretty little mouse..."

Wanda sat on top of you, relishing in how easy it was to sneak in. How your body barely fought her off.

"Leave me alone!" You whimper, shaking your head to remove her hand off of your lip.

"Why? We've only just begun pretty girl," her voice makes your chest tighten. You watch with careful eyes as she reaches behind her back, pulling out a gun.

Wanda slides the barrel against your cheek, watching the fear in your eyes. The gun slides down your rapidly moving chest...

And then she sets it down on the floor beside your head.

"You can use it any time you like.. but I know you won't, little mouse," she husks down at you. "You want me here.. you like the idea of a shadow watching over you every day. The feeling I can just walk in at any time.." Wanda chuckles darkly.

Before you can say anything or wonder where her hands are going, you feel a sharp needle prick your neck. You immediately feel your eyes become heavy, your vision blurring as your shadow removes her mask. Features blurry enough that you can't make her out.

"Sweet dreams, Y/N.."

You awake the next morning on the couch with a start, gasping as you look around the room with wide eyes. The pounding in your head and the nauseous feeling in your stomach convinced you that you must have had too much to drink. It was just a bad dream.

But then your eyes catch sight, on the coffee table in front of you, a small black gun.

One that you would wave down the street looking for your shadow, screaming to no one that if they didn't come out, you would kill yourself.

One that you would lie to the police about, saying you bought it off a junkie at the docks to protect your shadow.

The shadow was yours, after all, to deal with.

****

Current Winter 2018

As you stand still like prey avoiding your predator, you hear a subtle sound of a bell ringing. A bell you knew to be followed by a blow of a deep horn as a boat leaves the dock. You wait a second... two... three...

A deep horn sounds from in the direction straight ahead of you.

Excitement sparks in your chest as you mentally prepare yourself to do what you do best, run.

You don't look back once, but you know Wanda is following. Your ears twitch as you hear her pace quicken behind you, branches and twigs snapping around the two of you as you make for the dock. The trees begin to clear, and you spot the water, a dock spanning so far you can't see the end of it, along the shore. You run towards a wooden boathouse attached to the dock that didn't look too far, hoping you could make it before Wanda emerges from the trees.

You sit low on the ground of the wood surface, and water splashes below you. A small boat floated inside, covered with a tarp, along with random tables and boxes filled with fishing supplies. As you look out the window, you see Wanda at the edge of the woods, her eyes searching the many places you could be. You duck down, not willing to risk being spotted.

***

Late Summer 2017

"I really fucked up, Wanda.." Pietro sighs into the phone.

Wanda shakes her head, watching from afar as you pace the living room.

"Shit, Pietro," she sighs loudly and walks away, around the corner. "I'll book a flight in the morning."

****

Spring 2018

"I'm so happy you're back.." Natasha smiles at her friend, sipping the coffee she held in her hands, the smiling not quite reaching her eyes.

"What's wrong, Nat?" Wanda says, resting her hand on top of Natasha.

"It's my friend, Y/N. I've told you about her," she says, Wanda nods thoughtfully. "She really needs some help, I just don't know what to do.."

Wanda reaches in her pocket and takes a business card out, sliding it across the table. "Give her this. I know a lot of people that could help her, but I also know you really care about her... I could take care of her. She would be brand new by the time we finished our Sessions."

Natasha takes the card wearily. "I don't know if I can just suggest this right now to her.. I'll think about it. Wait a little bit, and see if she gets better on her own." She smiles at Wanda gratefully.

"Of course.. maybe she'll get better," Wanda says, smiling at the thought of her spot in the shadows just outside your house.

****

Current Winter 2018

"Little mouse.." Her voice sounds from outside the window. You move quietly and quickly underneath a table that is in the corner covered by a tarp.

Wanda steps inside, the floor creaking underneath her weight, the door shutting with a snap. You listen to her footsteps as she walks around the small boathouse, rustling around in boxes. Your fingers twitch, absendmidetly tapping your leg 4 times.

Your shadow loomed over you.

It was quick, the pulling of the tarp, the exasperated scream as Wanda grabbed you from the back of your neck, pressing the blade to the front of your throat. She pulls you close to her, knowing you were going nowhere in her strong grip. The knife she held to your neck presses harder, drawing the smallest bit of blood as you attempt to scratch at her arms.

"Tsk, tsk, tsk..." Wanda sighs into your ear, pressing her lips to the sensitive skin just below. "Looks like I've caught you, pretty girl. What now, hm?" She chuckles darkly and continues to kiss your neck.

The ache between your legs grows as she presses her hips into you, feeling the strap beneath her jeans. "I told you if you ran, I would punish you.." Wanda removes one hand, keeping the knife to your throat. You don't have time to wonder before you hear the sound of her unbuckling her belt.

Cool metal is replaced with warm leather as she ties the belt around your neck, pushing you down roughly face first onto the table in front of you. "Wanda.." You whimper out. She tugs on the end of the belt, your whimpering cut short by lack of air. With the sharp blade, she cuts the shirt that clung to your body right down the middle, exposing your back.

"I told you, Y/N. I warned you what would happen when I found you." Her free hand slides down the shorts you wore. You blush, knowing she was about to find out how wet you were for her. Wanda frees the strap from her pants, sliding the tip along your ass. Your hips move back towards her as she teases you, causing Wanda to smirk.

She knew how badly you wanted her. Wanda would show you, over time, how you belonged to her and only her. And that she, belonged to you, only you.

She slides in easily, wasting no time in fucking herself into you. The table moves with every thrust, scratching the wooden dock below. Wanda holds in one strong grip, the belt, the other one holding your hip to meet hers. The knife had dropped to the ground. You both knew it wasn't needed.

"Fuck pretty girl, I'm going to fuck you every chance I get.." She moans loudly, pulling the belt. Your hands grip onto the leather as she pounds into you mercilessly, moaning at the thought of her having her way with you whenever she felt like it. Her powerful thrust sending shocks into your body. A hard smack across your ass makes you yelp. You feel a singing sensation. Another. More stinging. And another. Surely a bruise.

"Tell me, Y/N.." Wanda grunts in between thrusts. You knew what she wanted to hear. You had no problem telling her the truth.

"I need you!" You rasp out, her grip on the belt loosens.

"That's right, baby. I won't let you forget it," she pulls the belt to pull you up, your back flush against her. Wanda kisses your cheek, surprisingly softly. "Fuck you feel so good." Wanda groans, her breathing becoming ragged. She gropes your breasts as the cut shirt slips off of your body, pinching your nipples hard between her fingers.

The pleasure was overstimulating, your body still sore and tired from the night before. You feel your legs tremble under your weight, but Wanda easily holds you up.

"Are you gonna cum, little mouse? Hm?" Wanda groans against your skin, you nod quickly. "You better beg for it then.." She chuckles, making you whine.

"Wanda.." Your word barely comes out, unable to think and physically trapped by the belt. "Baby.." You try, feeling her body tense behind you.

"Please let me cum, please I'm begging you!"

"I need you to let me cum!"

"Baby please!"

"Cum for me, pretty girl.." She finally gives in.

Before you know it, you were coming, your orgasm crashing over your body in sync with the waves crashing below. Wanda continues to fuck you through your orgasm, letting herself enjoy the sight of you falling apart in her arms.

You hear her moan loudly, thrusts slowing as she releases with you. Wanda holds onto you tightly, the grip on her belt gone as you stand breathing heavily, your hearts beating together as you catch your breath. She gives you a minute before sliding out of you carefully and sitting you on the table.

You can barely sit up, freezing, and now even more sore than you already were. You watch with half lidded eyes as Wanda does her pants up, buckling her belt. She takes the knife and puts it behind her before taking off her hoodie. You could see a red shirt on her.

The hoodie is warm and smells like her as she slides it over your head, putting your arms in the holes. She pulls up the shorts and puts the hood over your head, tucking your hair behind your ears. You close your eyes as she lifts you up bridal style, carrying you out of the wooden structure.

You remember resting your head against her neck, thinking you had never felt softer skin before. You remember the warm sun shining through the trees as she carried you through the woods to her house. You remember the sound of hot water running. The feeling of her hands scrubbing your body clean. The sound of a match flicking. The smell of Wanda as warm clothes were put on your body.

Wanda slides in front of you in the bed, holding you tightly in her embrace. You grab onto her. She pulls the blanket over you both. 4 kisses on your head. The feeling of sleep taking over. The thought that nothing was going to be the same.

Your shadow whispering in your ear,

"Sweet dreams, little mouse.."

#wanda maximoff #marvel #wanda x reader #wanda x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x fem!reader #dark wanda x reader #dark wanda maximoff #elizabeth olsen

496 notes · View notes

marvelseries19 · 5 months

Text

A CHRISTMAS IN NORWAY

Pairing: Leah Williamson x reader

Genre: Fluff

Summary: After two years of being together and on your second Christmas, you both decide to spend the holiday in your home country.

A/N: This is my first fic about real people, so please don't be too critical about it. I'm absolutely open to reading ideas, opinions, questions, etc. Just remember to be respectful. Be aware that I know nothing about Norway, and English is my second language. I know it's a little all over the place but I'm just trying to get out of the worst mental block I've ever had, also the ending might be a little rush, but I kinda ran out of inspiration at the end so, I just hope it makes sense.

Warnings: + 18, Suggestive

Word count: 0.9k+

[You do not have permission to repost or translate any of my stories or claim them as yours]

Your room is softly lit by sunlight that seeps through the open curtains, creating a gentle glow on your bed's white comforter and helping to wake you up. The warmth of the sunlight creates a cozy and peaceful atmosphere, making it difficult to resist getting out of bed.

When you come to, there's a weight over your waist that belongs to your girlfriend's arm. You gradually stretch and turn to face the blonde, who has a happy smile on her face. You are enthralled by the way the morning light plays on her cheeks and the fluff of her lashes as she wakes up. You can't help but feel a surge of love and contentment as you realize how lucky you are to have her in your life.

You extend your hand and run a finger along her sharp jawline, causing her to smile drowsily. You exchange glances and appreciate, in silence, the wonder of this moment: the beauty of the snow-covered Norwegian landscape of your hometown, the closeness of being enveloped in each other's warmth, and the quiet of the winter morning.

"Good morning, Elske." You said it in a quiet voice, not wishing to shatter the peaceful atmosphere you two had built. She mumbled a good morning as she drew closer and hid her head in the crook of your neck. You could feel her lips brushing against your skin, leaving gentle kisses.

"How did you sleep?" You asked while gently drawing random shapes on her bare back, neither of you bothering to put some clothes on the night before. "I always sleep great when I'm with you." You could feel the smirk on her face on your neck. "Cheeky." You chuckled.

Suddenly, Leah detached herself from you, straddling your hips, the sheet falling from her frame, leaving her bare under your waze. Her eyes sparkled with mischief as she leaned in closer. "I feel at disadvantage here." You uncovered yourself from the sheets as you met her gaze. A mischievous grin spread across your face. "Well, how about now?" The blonde couldn't hold it anymore, and she leaned down closer to your face. "Yeah, that works," she said while finally closing the distance between the both of you, locking her lips with yours. The kiss was electrifying, sending a rush of desire through your body. As your lips moved in sync, the room filled with an intoxicating mix of passion and anticipation. The world around you faded away, leaving only the two of you lost in the heat of the moment.

You spend the next hour just basking in the love and warmth you found in each other before you decide to take a shower and go out for breakfast.

Walking hand in hand, the sound of your steps blends with the far-off cries of seagulls and the infrequent hum of a passing bicycle. The aged wooden structures with their colorful paint jobs and ornate facades that evoke earlier times serve as vivid reminders of the past. A soft golden light filters through the narrow streets, casting elongated shadows that dance along the colorful walls. The aroma of hot coffee and freshly baked bread wafts from the surrounding cafés, tempting you to follow your nose to find the perfect spot for breakfast.

After a while, Leah started to feel the cold. Lucky for her, you found a cozy cafe. Its wooden interiors and inviting warmth make it a refuge from the cold outside. As you step through the door, the aroma of freshly brewed coffee mingles with the sweet scent of pastries, instantly enveloping both you and your girlfriend in a comforting embrace.

The place hums with a gentle buzz of conversation and the clinking of cups against saucers. Soft acoustic music plays in the background, adding to the relaxed atmosphere.

The menu boasts a delightful array of Scandinavian pastries—warm cinnamon rolls, flaky pastries filled with berries, and traditional Norwegian cakes—all displayed enticingly on the counter, enticing customers with their delectable taste.

It was an understatement to say that it was hard to make a choice, but since you would end up sharing whatever you ordered, it didn't matter that much. "This looks amazing; I don't know why we didn't come here sooner," Leah said while your order was placed in front of you. "I can't wait to dig in!"

"I'm glad you enjoy it, baby," you replied, eagerly grabbing your fork and taking the first bite. The food was incredibly delicious; Leah's eyes lit up with delight as she savored her first bite, her taste buds dancing with pleasure, and you couldn't take your eyes off of the blonde.

The start of the relationship had been a bit rocky, with both of you dancing around your feelings for a while. It took a rather harsh push from your friends to make you confess your feelings, and now you couldn't be more grateful for them.

"You're staring, you know?" She said it with a smirk on her face. "Well, can you blame me?" You replied, unable to resist her charm. "Thank you for coming with me, Elske." She grabbed your hand over the table, intertwining her fingers with yours. "There's no place I'd rather be, baby."

The rest of the day was filled with laughter, adventure, and kisses. You couldn't help but fall deeper in love with her while you showed her every place that meant something to you. As the sun sets, painting the sky in hues of orange and pink, you realize that you have found your soulmate. Well, rather confirmed that she was; after all, you knew that from the moment you met her. She was the missing piece to your puzzle. And you were hers.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #reader insert #woso x reader #woso fanfic #woso imagine #arsenal wfc #engwnt #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson x you

427 notes · View notes

shebunie · 6 months

Text

𝐖𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐝𝐨 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐭?

𝙈𝙞𝙯𝙪 𝙭 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝗦𝘂𝗴𝗴𝗲𝘀𝘁𝗶𝘃𝗲 𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗺𝗲𝘀, 𝗸𝗶𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗻𝗴, 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝗳𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗰𝗼𝗺𝗳𝗼𝗿𝘁, 𝗿𝗲𝘂𝗻𝗶𝗼𝗻, 𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗹𝗶𝗲𝗱 𝘀𝗲𝘅𝘂𝗮𝗹 𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁. 𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 𝟳𝟮𝟯 𝐀/𝐍: 𝗺𝗶𝘇𝘂 𝗯𝗿𝗮𝗶𝗻𝗿𝗼𝘁 𝗶𝘀 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗹, 𝘀𝗵𝗲'𝘀 𝗮 𝘄𝗮𝗻𝘁, 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝗲𝗱, 𝗮 𝗻𝗲𝗰𝗲𝘀𝘀𝗶𝘁𝘆. 𝗜'𝗺 𝗳𝗲𝗲𝗱𝗶𝗻𝗴 𝗺𝘆𝘀𝗲𝗹𝗳 𝗮𝘁 𝘁𝗵𝗶𝘀 𝗽𝗼𝗶𝗻𝘁. 𝐏𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝟐

"Dare you to step foot on my land after all these years," you declared, the crunch of snow beneath your boots accompanying your words. The bitter winter wind carried the scent of pine, and the distant roar of waterfalls mingled with the haunting chirps of hidden birds.

Without turning, you sensed the approach of a familiar silhouette. The gentle tinkling of jewels in your hair echoed as you sighed, your head tilting low, eyes closed. "I've been well, princess. Thank you for showing concern," they uttered, each step bringing them closer.

The air buzzed with unsaid words as the shadow finally stood beside you. The moonlight painted both your figures against the snowy landscape. You unfurled your eyes, meeting their gaze. "Must you look that intensely?" you hissed, turning slightly to hide the subtle redness of your cheeks, your stoic facade faltering.

The samurai hummed, raising a hand to take your chin gently, guiding your gaze to their recognizable tinted glasses. "If it means getting to see you like this, then I simply must," they said, calloused fingers caressing your face. The rough texture of their hand against your smooth skin made you shiver involuntarily.

With hesitation, you lifted your hand, fingers gliding along their arm, recalling memories of the past. "This should not—," you started, but with firmness, you stopped, eyes glossing in the moonlight. Clearing your throat, you continued in a soft tone, "It's been long. It's not right. Do not say you need me when you leave and leave again."

Memories, once buried, resurfaced, furrowing your brows. Taking a step closer, your painted lips pursed in thought. "You show up unannounced after leaving me to pursue revenge, and now you—"

"It was a vow that I have dedicated my life for—"

"Much so that you leave without a word to me?"

"You, of everyone, should know that revenge does not hesitate," the samurai fumed, voice firm, husky, and deep, sending shivers down your spine. With a heavy sigh, they took off their glasses, placing them on your nose with a glance to your lips.

"After killing those who have wronged me, I vowed anew," they said, their long, slender fingers intertwining with yours. Wiping away a tear that fell from your eyes, their touch swelled your heart. Tears streamed down your face as they spoke, "I promised to look for you the moment I stepped foot into Japan. Every mountain, every ocean, village by village, I took every chance to see you again."

The weight of their promise lifted a burden from your heart, and you wept. "Hey," they whispered, tenderly tilting your head to look at them. Leaning down, they placed gentle kisses along the tear stains on your cheek, then against your damp neck. You sighed, a small grin playing on their lips.

"Tell me," they said, brushing their nose against your jaw, "how does the princess want to finish this?" You tilted your head back against the tree, dazed, and replied, "In any way. Whatever you want." Gripping the fabric of their cloak, your body pressed against theirs.

Mizu hummed, leaning in once more, whispering, "That's not an answer. What do you want?" She grabbed your waist, hoisting you up and pinning you against the tree. Your legs tangled behind her to keep you upright.

Burying their face between your neck and shoulder, they licked on the exposed part of your chest, and you shuddered, soft whimpers escaping your lips. "How I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist," they said crassly.

You squirmed in their hold, softly moaning, embarrassed at how easily you reacted. Your entire body was hot, and your face was on fire. They held you in place, their long, rough fingers gripping the supple skin of your thighs to keep you still and upright.

Her lips were soft, and you practically melted into her. She hummed, their blue eyes looking at the purple marks and the soft bite marks all over your neck. Slightly spreading your legs, they rolled their hips against yours.

"Staying quiet was never your strong suit, wasn't it?" she teased.

"Y-yes," you moaned, fingers tangling in her dark hair. You weren't going to argue with this opportunity. Connecting lips once more, her tongue forced its way into your mouth, and you surrendered to the passion of the moment.

668 notes · View notes

dee-writes-smut · 1 month

Text

WINTER (Part Two)

FEATURING Azriel x Illyrian!reader

SUMMARY in the aftermath of your kidnapping, you find it harder than normal to cope and continue on with life, causing you to push the people closest to you away. (THIS IS A PART TWO)

CONTENT WARNINGS descriptions of injuries, pain, torture, severe depression, and PTSD. If you thought the last one was dark, buckle up.

AUTHORS NOTE wow, three fics in two days?! What happened to me? I have just been super motivated to write creatively recently, which is exciting! So here, enjoy the second part of the Season's series, Winter.

Winter's embrace was a bleak grip, the world laying shrouded in a suffocating blanket of ice and snow, each flake a cruel reminder of nature's indifference. The landscape stretched out before you like a desolate wasteland, barren trees reaching up like skeletal fingers towards a sky heavy with the promise of more bitter cold to come. There was no warmth to be found here, only the biting chill that gnawed at your bones and numbed your very soul.

Gone were the vibrant colors and lively sounds of spring, replaced instead by a deafening silence broken only by the hollow howl of the wind as it whipped through the skeletal remains of once-thriving forests. The air was thick with a palpable sense of despair, each breath a struggle against the icy grip of despair that threatened to crush you under its weight.

As you trudged through the snow, each step felt like a punishment, a relentless march towards an uncertain fate. The landscape seemed to taunt you with its emptiness, a cruel reminder of the futility of your existence in a world so devoid of life and hope. Shadows danced across the frozen ground, twisting and contorting into grotesque shapes that seemed to mock your very presence.

And yet, amidst the desolation, there was a perverse beauty to be found – in the stark contrast of black against white, in the delicate lacework of frost that adorned the barren branches, in the eerie stillness that hung heavy in the air like a shroud. It was a beauty born of darkness, a twisted reflection of the cruel whims of fate that had brought you to this forsaken place.

In the heart of winter's icy grip, you found yourself consumed by a sense of isolation and despair, a prisoner in a world that had long since abandoned any pretense of kindness or compassion. It was a season of suffering, of unrelenting cruelty, of darkness so deep that even the faintest glimmer of hope seemed but a distant memory. And as the cold crept ever closer, you couldn't help but wonder if there would ever be an end to the endless winter that had consumed your very soul.

(Wintertime, Velaris)

As the first rays of dawn painted the sky in hues of pink and gold, I sat alone on the edge of my bed, my gaze fixed on the empty space where my wings used to be. The pain, both physical and emotional, gnawed at me like a relentless predator, sinking its claws deep into my chest, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. My once majestic wings, the very essence of my being, were gone, severed from my body by those who sought to break my spirit.

With trembling hands, I traced the scars where my wings had been, feeling the phantom sensation of membrane-like skin against my fingertips. The memory of their hard, bone-like ridges, their graceful span; it lingered like a bittersweet melody, haunting yet achingly beautiful. Tears welled in my eyes, blurring the world around me with their shimmering veil, but I refused to let them fall. Crying felt like admitting defeat, acknowledging just how shattered I truly was. So instead, I pushed the pain down, burying it deep within me, where no one could see.

But the emptiness inside me was a vast abyss, yawning wide and hungry, impossible to ignore. I had always prided myself on my resilience, my strength, but now I felt like a mere husk of my former self. The trauma of my kidnapping weighed upon my mind like a heavy shroud, casting shadows that danced and twisted in the corners of my consciousness.

As the days stretched into weeks, and weeks into months, I withdrew further into myself, cocooning my heart in layers of solitude and silence. The world outside seemed distant and hazy, a blurred landscape of faces and voices that I could no longer connect with. I couldn't bear the pity in their eyes, the whispered words of sympathy that fell like stones upon my wounded soul. So, I built walls around my heart, brick by brick, until I was encased in a fortress of my own making, impervious to the outside world.

Even Azriel, my steadfast companion, my unwavering ally, found himself barred from the inner sanctum of my heart. He tried to reach me, to break through the barriers I had erected, but I turned away, unable to bear the thought of exposing my vulnerability to anyone, even him. I didn't want their pity or their well-meaning words. All I wanted was to be left alone with my pain, to drown in it until it consumed me completely.

But even in my darkest moments, a flicker of hope danced on the periphery of my consciousness, a tiny flame that refused to be extinguished. It whispered of resilience and redemption, of healing and renewal, but I pushed it away, hiding from its warmth like a frightened child. For now, I would remain adrift in a sea of darkness, lost and alone, clinging to the fragile thread of hope that promised a way out of the abyss.

The memories played out in my mind with vivid intensity, each scene etched into my consciousness like a brand of torment.

I remembered the moment I was jolted from unconsciousness, the harsh voice of my captor slicing through the haze like a blade. "Wake up, whore," he hissed, sending a shiver down my spine and igniting a primal fear within me. Blinking against the darkness that enveloped me, I felt the oppressive weight of a bag over my head, suffocating and disorienting. Panic surged through me as I realized my bound state, my struggles against the restraints futile in the face of impending doom.

The voice, dripping with malice, mocked my defiance. "No need to struggle, sweetheart," he sneered, his words a cruel reminder of my helplessness. As I strained to make sense of my surroundings, fear clawed its way through my throat, leaving behind deep grooves of despair. The familiar scent of damp earth and mildew filled my senses, a chilling reminder of the unknown horrors that awaited me.

A flicker of hope emerged in the form of Azriel, my steadfast protector, but it was quickly extinguished by the looming presence of Lyris, a childhood friend turned tormentor. His eyes gleamed with sadistic delight as he brandished a dagger, the cold metal glinting ominously in the dim light.

With a cruel smirk, Lyris descended upon me, his voice filled with twisted pleasure. "Time to finally take what's mine," he taunted, the blade poised to inflict unimaginable pain.

The first cut tore through me like a bolt of lightning, a searing agony that ripped through flesh and soul alike. My cries echoed off the walls of the chamber, lost in the darkness that enveloped me.

But the torment did not end there. With each merciless stroke of the blade, Lyris carved away my very essence, leaving behind a shattered shell of my former self. I watched helplessly as my wings, once symbols of freedom and strength, were mutilated and discarded like worthless scraps of flesh.

And as the last remnants of my identity fell away, a hollow emptiness consumed me, leaving behind only the cruel scars of my torment. I was no longer whole, no longer the person I once was. I had been robbed of everything that defined me, my essence stolen by the darkness that lurked within the depths of my captor's soul.

As the soft rap echoed through the hollow corridors, it felt like a distant echo of a life I once knew, one filled with warmth and camaraderie. Reluctantly, I approached the door, each step heavy with the weight of my turmoil, the heavy thud of my heart matching the rhythm of my footfalls.

Feyre stood there, framed by the soft glow of the hallway lanterns, her presence both a comfort and a reminder of the bonds I had once cherished. In her hands, she cradled a delicate tray, a small offering of sustenance amidst the darkness that engulfed me.

"I brought you some food," she offered, her voice a soothing melody in the stillness of the room, a fragile thread of connection in the vast expanse of my solitude. "I thought you might be hungry."

My response was curt, a reflexive defense against the vulnerability her kindness exposed. "I don't need your pity, Feyre," I retorted, the bitterness in my voice a stark contrast to the warmth of her offering. "I can take care of myself."

For a fleeting moment, hurt flickered in her eyes, a silent plea for understanding that cut through the barriers I had erected around my wounded heart. But she quickly masked it with a forced smile, her resilience a testament to the depth of her compassion.

Without another word, she set the tray down on the table beside me, the scent of warm food mingling with the heavy silence that enveloped us. It was a gesture of kindness in a world that had grown cold and indifferent, a fleeting glimpse of the friendship I had once treasured.

As Feyre lingered in the doorway, her gaze lingered on mine with a quiet intensity, a silent invitation to let her in, to share the burden of my pain. "Is there anything else I can do for you?" she asked, her voice a gentle reminder that I was not alone, that there were still those who cared enough to reach out a helping hand.

But I shook my head, my walls still firmly in place, my pride a shield against the vulnerability her presence exposed. "No," I replied curtly, my voice a harsh echo of the emptiness that echoed within me.

With a nod of understanding, Feyre turned to leave, the weight of her disappointment a heavy burden on my already burdened soul. And as the door closed behind her, I was left alone once more, the silence of the empty room a stark reminder of the walls I had built to keep the world at bay.

The evening air was thick with the scent of spices and laughter as I made my way through the bustling streets of Velaris, the soft glow of lanterns casting a warm hue over the cobblestone pathways. Each step felt heavy, burdened by the weight of my own thoughts, as I navigated the vibrant tapestry of the Night Court.

Amidst the lively chatter and cheerful bustle of the city, familiar voices pierced through the haze of my melancholy. Mor's vibrant laughter echoed through the air, drawing my gaze towards her radiant figure standing across the street. Beside her, Cassian, his presence as imposing as ever, offered a welcoming grin that tugged at the corners of my lips despite my inner turmoil.

"Hey, there she is!" Mor's voice carried on the breeze, her smile bright as she beckoned me over. "Come join us!"

Cassian's invitation followed, his boisterous enthusiasm contagious as he gestured towards the tavern. "We're heading for a drink. You should come with us."

My heart clenched at the genuine warmth in their gestures, a stark contrast to the icy grip of my own despair. The desire to lose myself in their company, if only for a fleeting moment, warred with the overwhelming sense of unworthiness that gnawed at my soul.

But as Mor reached out to take my hand, her touch a gentle reminder of the bond we shared, a surge of jealousy and resentment swept through me. My gaze flickered to Cassian, his powerful wings a constant reminder of everything I had lost. Anger boiled within me, bitter and consuming, as I struggled to suppress the envy that threatened to engulf me. "I appreciate the offer, but I think I'll pass," I managed to say, my voice betraying a hint of regret. "I'm not really in the mood for drinking tonight."

Mor's smile faltered for a moment, a flicker of concern crossing her features before she masked it with reassurance. "That's okay," she said softly, her words a soothing balm to the ache in my heart. "But if you ever change your mind, you know where to find us."

With a nod of understanding, I watched as they disappeared into the throng of revelers, their laughter fading into the night. Left alone on the deserted street, the weight of my solitude pressed heavily upon me, a reminder of the chasm that separated me from the warmth of their companionship. As the echoes of their laughter dissolved into the stillness of the night, I couldn't shake the pang of resentment that lingered in my chest. But even amidst the darkness of my despair, I knew that I couldn't risk dragging my friends down with me. So, with a heavy heart, I turned away, retreating into the shadows once more, the silence of the night swallowing me whole.

The faint glow of moonlight, a silver cascade, filtered through the windows, casting ethereal patterns across the dimly lit kitchen of the Night Court's sprawling estate. I stood amidst the chaos, surrounded by a haphazard array of pots, pans, and ingredients scattered across the countertops. My attempt at cooking had quickly spiraled into a messy disaster, each failed endeavor only serving to fuel my frustration further.

As I grappled with the stubborn lid of a jar, a voice sliced through the silence, its presence both unexpected and unwelcome.

"What in the world are you doing?"

Startled, I turned to find Rhysand standing in the doorway, his silhouette a stark contrast against the luminescent backdrop. His wings, a breathtaking display of power and grace, unfurled behind him like the majestic sails of a ship, the membrane-like skin gleaming in the moonlight. They seemed to pulsate with an otherworldly energy, each beat a testament to the freedom and strength they embodied. My heart clenched at the sight, a bitter pang of jealousy twisting in the depths of my soul. Once, I had known that same sense of freedom, had soared through the skies with effortless grace, my wings slicing through the air like a blade through silk. But now, they were gone, cruelly ripped from my back by those who sought to break me.

An ache, dull and persistent, throbbed in the space where my wings had once been, a constant reminder of everything I had lost. I longed to feel the wind beneath me, to taste the exhilarating rush of flight once more, but it was nothing more than a distant dream, forever out of reach.

"None of your business," I snapped, my voice a whipcrack of frustration, my fingers still wrestling with the stubborn jar lid. The last thing I needed was his pity, his condescending attempts to help when I clearly didn't want it.

Rhysand's gaze softened, a flicker of concern crossing his features as he approached with cautious steps, his movements a ballet of grace. "You're making quite a mess," he observed, his voice gentle but firm, like the soothing murmur of a distant stream. "Let me help you."

I recoiled from his touch, the anger bubbling to the surface like molten lava erupting from the depths of the earth. "I don't need your help," I spat, my voice tinged with venom, the bitterness like bile in my throat. "I don't need anyone."

There was a brief pause, a pregnant silence hanging heavy in the air as Rhysand regarded me with a mixture of sympathy and frustration. "You're clearly upset," he said softly, his words a gentle caress against the storm raging within me. "Let me help you. Let us help you."

But I refused to listen, the tempest of my emotions raging unabated, the walls around my heart fortified against any intrusion. With a strangled cry of frustration, I shoved past him and fled from the room, the echoes of his words following me like a haunting refrain, the cadence of his footsteps a melancholy echo in the corridors of my mind.

Alone in the sanctuary of my darkened chamber, I collapsed onto the bed, the weight of my own solitude pressing down upon me like a suffocating avalanche. Tears welled in my eyes, hot and stinging, as I buried my face in the pillows, the emptiness consuming me like a ravenous beast, its jaws gnashing at the frayed edges of my soul.

"Mind if I join you?"

Nesta's voice broke through the silence, her presence a welcome intrusion in the stillness of the night. I turned to face her, my expression guarded and wary, unsure of what to expect. She stepped onto the balcony, her graceful movements a stark contrast to the heaviness that weighed upon my own shoulders. There was a quiet understanding in her gaze, a silent acknowledgment of the pain that lingered beneath the surface.

"I know what it's like," she said softly, her voice a gentle murmur in the quiet expanse of the night. "To push people away, to build walls around your heart so high that no one can reach you."

I bristled at her words, the anger and resentment bubbling to the surface like a dormant volcano awakening from its slumber. How dare she presume to understand the depths of my despair, the darkness that threatened to consume me from within?

"You have no idea what I'm going through," I snapped, my voice tinged with bitterness. "You have Cassian, you have someone who loves you unconditionally. I have no one."

Nesta's gaze softened, a flicker of sympathy in her eyes as she reached out to take my hand. "I may have Cassian, but that doesn't mean I haven't faced my own demons," she said gently. "I know what it's like to feel like you're drowning in darkness, to feel like there's no way out."

I recoiled from her touch, the walls around my heart growing ever taller with each passing moment. "I don't need your pity," I retorted, my voice laced with venom. "I don't need anyone."

Nesta's expression faltered for a moment, a fleeting glimpse of hurt crossing her features before she quickly masked it with a steely resolve. "Fine," she said, her voice tinged with resignation. "But just know that I'm here if you ever change your mind. No judgments, no expectations. Just someone who understands." And with that, she turned and walked away, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own sorrow.

The library exuded an atmosphere of solemn tranquility, its shelves adorned with ancient tomes and illuminated by the soft glow of flickering candles. I sat ensconced amidst the towering pillars of knowledge, a solitary figure in the midst of a vast sea of wisdom, my thoughts tumultuous and unruly.

"I’m joining you.”

The voice, sharp and unwavering, pierced the silence like a dagger, its intrusion disrupting the fragile peace that had settled over the room. Startled, I glanced up to find Amren standing before me, her gaze penetrating and incisive, cutting through the veil of my solitude with unnerving precision.

"Fine," I sighed, my voice tinged with resignation as I gestured for her to take a seat. Amren wasted no time in settling herself across from me, her movements fluid and purposeful, her eyes fixed upon me with an intensity that made me squirm.

"You look like hell," she remarked bluntly, her words a harsh echo in the stillness of the library.

I bristled at her candor, the urge to lash out bubbling up from the depths of my despair like a tempest on the horizon. But there was something in Amren's gaze, a glimmer of genuine concern beneath the steely facade, that gave me pause. She wasn't asking out of idle curiosity; she genuinely wanted to understand the turmoil that churned within me.

"It's nothing," I muttered, my voice barely above a whisper as I averted my gaze, unwilling to meet her probing stare.

Amren snorted in disbelief, her lips curling into a sardonic smile as she leaned forward, her eyes boring into mine with unrelenting intensity. "Don't give me that bullshit," she retorted, her tone sharp and unyielding. "I may not be the touchy-feely type, but even I can see that something's eating you alive."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat growing with each passing moment as I struggled to find the words to express the depth of my despair. But before I could respond, Amren reached out and grasped my hand, her touch surprisingly gentle despite the steel in her eyes. "I'm not going to pretend to understand what you're going through," she said softly, her voice a quiet reassurance in the stillness of the library. "But I do know one thing: you don't have to face it alone. We're your friends, and we're here for you, no matter what."

Tears pricked at the corners of my eyes, hot and stinging, as I looked into Amren's unwavering gaze. In that moment, I realized that she was right. I didn't have to carry the weight of my despair alone. I had friends who cared about me, who were willing to stand by my side through the darkest of times. But even as the realization washed over me like a tidal wave, a part of me rebelled against the idea of letting them in. The walls around my heart, built brick by brick in an attempt to shield myself from further pain, felt impenetrable, insurmountable.

With a trembling breath, I pulled my hand away from Amren's grasp, my movements abrupt and jerky. "I don't need your help," I said, my voice strained with emotion. "I don't need anyone."

Amren's expression hardened, her eyes flashing with barely concealed anger as she stared at me, incredulous. "You're a fool if you think you can face this alone," she spat, her voice cold and cutting. "But fine, if that's how you want it. Just know that when you finally come crawling back, don't expect us to welcome you with open arms."

And with that, she rose from her seat and stormed from the room, leaving me alone once more with the weight of my own despair. Even as the silence settled around me like a suffocating blanket, I couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that gnawed at my soul

As the twilight descended, casting its ethereal veil over the Night Court's training grounds, I found myself standing alone at the edge of the courtyard, my heart heavy with the burden of my own anguish. The fading light painted the world in hues of amber and indigo, a melancholy backdrop to the tempest raging within.

With measured steps, Azriel approached, his presence a soothing balm amidst the chaos of my emotions. His silhouette merged with the shadows, his eyes alight with concern as he drew near. "Are you alright?" His voice, a tender caress against the backdrop of the evening's symphony, reached out to me, offering solace in the darkness.

I turned to face him, my heart aching with the weight of unspoken words, the tumult of my soul laid bare in the vulnerability of my gaze. "Do I look alright?" I whispered, the bitterness of my sorrow echoing in the stillness of the night. "Do I seem like someone who has it all together?"

Azriel's expression softened, his gaze a mirror to the storm brewing within me. "I'm just trying to help," he murmured, his voice a gentle melody that stirred the depths of my wounded spirit.

Tears welled in my eyes, the ache in my chest threatening to consume me whole. "Maybe I don't want your help," I confessed, the admission a fragile confession of my deepest fears. "Maybe I'm tired of everyone trying to fix me, like I'm some broken thing in need of repair."

The hurt that flickered in Azriel's eyes pierced through me, his anguish a reflection of my own. "I'm sorry," he whispered, his voice laden with remorse, a silent plea for understanding.

My resolve wavered, the walls around my heart crumbling in the face of his compassion. "I don't need your apologies," I confessed, the weight of my pain heavy upon my shoulders. "I just need… I don't know what I need."

With that, I turned away, the vulnerability of my confession hanging heavy in the air between us. As I retreated into the enveloping darkness, I felt the warmth of Azriel's presence recede, leaving me alone with the ache of my own brokenness. And in the stillness of the night, I grappled with the realization that perhaps, amidst the chaos of my despair, what I truly longed for was the one thing I had pushed away—the comforting embrace of someone who cared.

But even as I yearned for solace, the sight of Azriel, the one who had rescued me from the clutches of darkness, stirred within me a tumult of conflicting emotions. His Illyrian heritage, his wings—symbols of strength and freedom—served as painful reminders of the horrors I had endured. And in his compassionate gaze, I saw reflected the shadows of my past, haunting me with memories I longed to forget. It was hard to see him, to confront the echoes of my trauma that lingered in his presence, yet even amidst the pain, there remained a flicker of hope—something that clung so tight, that wouldn’t let go, and that throbbed in the presence of him.

[PREVIOUS] [NEXT]

151 notes · View notes

thepenultimateword · 5 months

Text

Secret Santa 2023

For this year’s secret Santa I got @watercolorfreckles (I know you got mine too, but I promise I used a randomizer!) I’m sorry this is late, I’ve been traveling and just writing every chance I can get. I got a little overambitious and wrote several scenes instead of just one, so hopefully it doesn’t feel choppy and you like it!

"Hero's shy medic is the unsung and unappreciated glue that keeps the team together, magically repairing their every injury with her power to heal. What happens when Villain finds out how the hero's broken bones are always so quickly mending, and kidnaps the medic to utilize himself?"

Henchman was waiting in baggage claim when Villain arrived. His violet-dyed hair, thick mess of scars, and tall stature made him stand out against the crowd, but he still waved his whole arm over his head as Villain came through the doors.

Villain's glove creaked feelingless against his suitcase handle. This was getting tiresome. Probably for Henchman too. It was ridiculous that he insisted on picking him up from the airport every trip instead of looking for a new employer.

"Any luck?" Henchman said, seamlessly transferring Villain's bag into his own hand.

Villain's insides twisted. Maybe he should fire Henchman. That would force the underling to think about himself. Though Villain couldn't deny his reluctance to lose such loyalty. He wasn't sure he actually had the strength to enforce his own abandonment.

"Nah." He rubbed his numb hands together and forced a lighthearted tone. "Just another waste of money. I spent three weeks meditating away the damage, only for the so-called "power guru" to say I don't want to be healed. Apparently, if I did, I would have been able to banish the "bile" from my body."

Henchman gave the suitcase wheels a little bang against the ground. "Morons and scam artists.”

"Yes, well, it was a 50/50 shot in the first place. How's my bird?"

Henchman grimaced. "Still eating very little. She has stopped beating against her cage, but now she's very lethargic and despondent."

"You've tried cheering her up? Good food, nice things?"

"Yes, but she's not very chatty. Maybe we should have waited to get her until after your trip. This would have gone better with...some stability."

The automatic door swooshed open, and they stepped out into the chill winter air. Villain blew out a long cloudy breath and watched it disappear into the dreary, gray city landscape. Everything was so temporary. Here one moment, gone the next.

"The opportunity was too good," he said. "Besides, we couldn't leave her with our friend."

Hero had enough of an advantage without also having a decent healer on his side. No matter how many hits Villain divvied out, the heroic team always got back up unscathed. Perhaps without their golden goose, Villain could actually turn the tide. And maybe... Villain didn't want to get his hopes up, but maybe she could do something more too. He knew that Henchman knew that was the main reason he’d stolen her away in the first place. By this point he was just pretending to himself that there was a bigger purpose behind it all.

The crosswalk sign beeped its permission to cross the street, and Villain scanned the lot for Henchman's car, spotting its orangey paint job near the front.

"I am concerned she's been doing poorly this whole time. Why don't we stop by her enclosure first."

Henchman nodded and very kindly played along with the act that this was truly concern over an asset and not another cowardly excuse for himself. “I don’t think she’ll be very pleased to see you.”

She’s not going to help you.

“That’s alright.” Villain slid into the passenger seat. As Henchman loaded his suitcase into the trunk, he muttered under his breath, “I don’t have much left to lose.”

***

Villain called her Birdie.

Of course he knew her real title as Hero’s medic, but the nickname just encapsulated her so well.

So small. So skittish. Always flitting around the outskirts of a fight, the great folds of her medic’s cloak flapping at her sides like wings as she lighted briefly at each fallen party. The color was supposed to mark her as a noncombatant, take any targets of her back, but she had the instincts to remain wary always. Most villains didn’t follow the rules, and the gray was as likely to get her killed as not.

So why continue to wear it? Villain wondered, watching her through the one way glass of her cell's wall mirror. It was really more of a mini apartment than a cell--sitting room, bedroom, bathroom. The sitting room was the only room Villain could view into, but he doubted whether Medic knew that. Perhaps it was riskier to give a hostage so much blind space, but anyone worth keeping around couldn't be kept like any regular prisoner. Though, from the looks of it, Medic wasn't exactly grateful for the thoughtful accommodations.

She sat with her face buried in her knees, grey cloak nearly swallowing her little curled up body whole. He'd asked Henchman to prepare daily clothes changes, and the peeking green edge of sleeve implied she'd been taking them, but the cloak remained the same.

Villain moved around to the front of the cell and drew back the bolt on the otherwise regular door, taking a breath before swinging it open with a flourish. “Hello, Birdie.”

The woman leaped a little, head shooting up and fixing him in the inky black pools that were her eyes.

“Sorry for the delay." He locked the door behind him as casually as he could manage. "I’ve been out of town. But now we can finally chat."

Medic blinked then turned her chin into her shoulder.

Villain plopped down on the couch a couple feet away from her place on the rug. "Apparently you haven't been eating properly. Is the food not up to standard? Can I get you something else? Any favorite meals or treats?"

Medic didn't turn or respond.

"Hmm...what do birdies like. Worms?"

The healer's lip curled a little but still nothing.

"How about chocolate? Steak? Fruit tarts?"

Medic only tucked her chin tighter.

"Alright, I get it. The nice treatment doesn't work on you. Unfortunately, I don't have a mean treatment. Not for you at least. I can't asks favors from someone by relying on fear."

That got her attention. She still didn't unfold, but her eyes watched him sideways. Wary but curious. What could a villain need from a healer. He must have his own, so why her? She didn't need to speak for her thoughts to clutter the air.

"No, I can't just tell you," Villain said with a loud sigh. "You might go tell that precious hero team. I know you're quiet, but I don't believe for a second you're that quiet."

Medic swiveled her shoulders ever so slightly. "How...?"

Her voice was not so birdlike. Short yes, but like a rasped breath than a chirp. Still...

Villain grinned. "The very best of ways: by pretending I knew what you were thinking. Throw out a guess and you'll be right 80% percent of the time. That's also a guess by the way, I haven't actually researched the subject."

Medic retreated back into her cloak.

Darn.

Either he was totally unhumorous, or Medic was just that hard to entertain. Then again, she'd seemed interested by the prospect of a supernatural ability. She'd only clammed up again once she got the simple explanation for her question. She should've already known his Gift from the fights she'd witnessed, though he had held bad considerably this last year.

"You're not like other medics," he said, redirecting the conversation. "You have a Gift, don't you? And don't deny it, I've seen the recovery your patients. Scarless, rapid, perfect. One fight I saw a hero putting full weight on what, minutes previously, had been broken femur."

"And that's why you want me?" Medic squeezed her hands together, nails digging into the back of her knuckles like each word spoken aloud pained her. "Because I'm better than your medics? You want me to turncoat?"

"Not entirely. I took you because your good, yes. So good you've kept that ragtag trash hero team up and running way longer than it should have ever been allowed to go. Hero needs to be stopped."

Nothing.

"I'm going to the statue unveiling tonight." He watched her face closely. "I'm going to break it. And while I'm at it, break him."

"He's not that fragile," Medic said, her voice hushing a little further, and her brow furrowing.

"Ah, you know because you've tried?"

"I know because I' m his medic and I know how much treatment each fight requires." It came out quite a bit snappier than Villain expected and Medic must have realized it too because she set her jaw and looked away again. "I can't help you."

Villain pushed himself back to his feet. The declaration was firm, but hardly the denial of a truly devoted team member. Or maybe he was just reading to hard into things. Medic was shy. Maybe she wanted to make herself clear in as few words as possible. But if there was a chance only her fear was holding her back...

"I'll let you know how it goes," Villain said. With that, he made his way back outside the cell, bolting the door behind him with fumbling fingers. He flexed his hands a couple times, as if to warm them back to full function, but they felt as clumsy and disconnected as always. He shoved them gloved into his coat pockets.

Don't think about that. You have a hero to fight.

***

Villain couldn't feel his shoulders. He'd definitely overdone it. He'd overestimated his ability to fight with his arms as damaged as they were and he had relied too much on the power he'd been so careful to conserve.

He stumbled hard against Medic's door, sliding weakly to his knees. He didn't know why he came here. Henchman was probably having a fit searching for him after he'd bolted. Most of those heroes laid in shattered pieces at the scene. Or at least, parts of them did. Villain had found long ago that his Gift--the power to turn whatever he willed to stone--could be used strategically. The loss of limbs was usually enough to make a hero retire, no need to end a whole life. He wouldn't have minded ending Hero, but once again, the leader was the only one who escaped unscathed. Too this day Villain had only ever managed to take a pinky. It was a wonder no one found that suspicious.

Villain slammed his fist against the cell door, or more like tapped. He stifled a sob. “I don’t want to die.”

Not yet. Not without bringing down Hero’s deceit.

Villain strained to reach the bolt, fumbling it twice before finally jostling it outward. He practically collapsed onto Medic’s rug.

Dark spots clouded his vision but suddenly cool hands were running trails down his face.

“Villain?”

Medic?

No wait, the door…he needed to close…why was she still here?

“Uuughh…” Villain rolled into her knees. “It did not go well.”

“What did he do?”

“Besides use every other person as a shield?”

“I mean to your face.”

Villain squinted up into Medic’s dark eyes, so deep and concerned and…and infinite.

“My face,” he mumbled.

“Are these bruises?” Her fingers trailed a second time down his cheek. “It looks painful.”

“It’s in my face?” Villain barely restrained a wail.

“Villain,” Medic said firmly, her quiet rasp getting almost loud. “What happened? Do you need healing?”

Villain’s throat felt thick and swollen, too sticky to get out words. Of course he needed healing. But if she couldn’t help him…he didn’t know if he could take another failure. He didn’t know if his body could take it.

He extended his hand. When Medic only stared, he nodded at the black, fitted glove.

Medic’s thumb worked under the edge. Villain felt nothing but he imagined her fingers felt just as gentle as they had on his cheek.

She gasped.

Villain glanced at the bare skin for only a moment. The once caramel colored palm now a deep ebony. Like something rotten. Like something dead.

“Villain?”

Villain cleared his throat, fighting the words upward. “All powers have a price.” He forced himself to look at blighted appendage. “Mine’s is killing me.”

Medic turned his hand over in her own. “How long?”

“Always. It used to just be a little. Nails. Hair. Parts I could cut off. Then it hit skin…and it won’t stop. I can’t feel; I can hardly move. And no one…” He choked. “I’m going to die. All from trying too hard to rid the world of Hero, and I couldn’t even finish him tonight.”

Medic rested her fingers on the cuff of Villain’s sleeve, eyes meeting Villain's with some unspoken request for permission.

Villain nodded.

Medic's nimble fingers gently picked at the button, freeing the fabric and rolling it up to his elbow. Villain’s eyes widened along with hers. What had once had been dark veins was now as pitch black his hands. From the nothingness in his shoulders it was probably no different above the elbow.

Medic felt gently at the half-petrifaction. Most people, even his most loyal were afraid of the blight. Henchman was unfazed, but the previous medic had quit rather than admit they didn't want anywhere near Villain. And yet Medic touched him willingly.

“You can’t fix it, can you?” Villain said, practically plead. He didn’t care anymore. Even with the doubt in his gut and in his voice. He just needed help.

“I…I might…” Medic said.

“But Hero wouldn’t like it.”

Medic ducked her head. “It’s not that. Well, no…you’re right, he wouldn’t, but he wouldn’t have to know. And there are no specific rules that say I can’t heal a villain, it’s just…”

Villain blinked groggily up at her as she chewed her bottom lip.

“Like you said, all powers have a price.”

“And this one is too much,” Villain said.

“Yes, well, no. I don’t know.” She glanced toward the open door. “Maybe there’s a better healer…”

Villain closed his eyes, practically sinking with resignation. “No. Already tried. I don’t think I have the energy to search anymore.” He clasped numb fingers around his numb arm. “Or the time.”

A long silence stretched between them.

“It’s alright, Birdie. Fly away.”

It didn’t matter who she told now.

Medic pushed him carefully off her lap, clothes rustling as she rose. Two steps sounded toward the door way and then stopped.

“I’m not supposed to…but I’ll do it.”

Villains eyes shot open. “You will?”

Medic sucked in her lips but nodded. “Just…don’t tell.”

She knelt beside him, long gray cloak fanning out around her. The second glove peeled off easier than the first, and she held both hands in hers.

He’d always wondered what it felt it like to experience one of her gifted healings.

It was warm. Like drinking something hot. It spread from head to toe, and the numbness leeched out little by little. The skin lightened from black to charcoal from charcoal to heather grey from grey to brown.

Medic’s hands turned soft in his grip. He squeezed them lightly, his mouth parting in disbelief at the feeling of pressure of warmth of regular mobility. When he sat up, it came easy. Tears sprang to his eyes.

“You did it! You actually did it! Medic, you are—“

He stopped at the sight of her slumping figure. Sweat rolled down her temples, her face was flushed, and her teeth were grit as if in agony.

“Birdie?”

Medic only shivered.

“Birdie. Birdie, are you alright?”

Villain reached out, but she lurched back, stumbling toward the back corner. Veiny blackness spread from her fingertips, trailing up the creases in her skin. Her shoulders trembled. A small vein popped out of from her forehead. And she glared at the blight. Not like someone afraid of it, but like someone who’d like to peel it off and throw it away. Or burn it.

“No!” she cried and slammed both palms against the wall mirror with a feral cry. Immediately the glass crackled and, like a rolling wave, turned to cold, hard stone.

The black faded from dark ebony to a tan spot only

A few shades darker than her skin. She still glared.

Villain gaped. “You… That’s what I do. How did you do what I do? Did I…? Did you…?”

Medic’s eyes darted toward the door.

Villain jumped in front of it first. “Hey hey hey! I’m not going to tell!”

Another guess but apparently the right one because Medic’s shouldered untensed a fraction.

“I’m not going to tell,” Villain repeated. “I just… How?”

Medic wrapped her cloak tighter around herself. Her eyes had taken on a glazed shine suspiciously alike to unshed tears.

“It’s not exactly healing,” she murmured. “More like stealing. Taking injuries and making them mine.”

“The price.”

She nodded. “But this sort of injury…made from a Gift, it doesn’t work the same. It’s more like a build up of power concentrated in one place. And now that it’s mine…I can do what I like with it.”

Villain cocked his head. “And that’s…bad?”

“I don’t work for Hero,” Medic said. “I’m on the team because he’s supposed to watch me. Stop me from doing things like this.”

“Becoming too powerful?”

“Becoming a villain.”

Villain might have laughed if she didn’t actually look so scared. He took her hands carefully, savoring the sensation of skin on skin warmth once again. He fixed her with a hard stare that she seemed uncertain to hold or shy away from. He smiled, the first real one in a long time.

“What’s wrong with villains?”

Medic swallowed, looking away but not pulling back her hands. Her voice came out very quiet. “I guess…not everything.”

#villain x medic #villain x civilian #hero x villain #heroes and villains #creative writing #writblr #writeblr #secret santa #agggh I couldn’t figure out how to end it #and I’ve been in a bit of a block #so it was a bit tough #but ah well #it was a fun premise to explore!

173 notes · View notes

perfectsunlight · 6 months

Text

LAST CHRISTMAS ⸺ HUH YUNJIN X READER

warnings: ANGST. (are we even surprised?)

word count: 1.9k

synopsis: last christmas, she gave you her heart.

when the air turned cold and the snow fell, huh yunjin remembered the day you broke her heart.

the snow crunched beneath her feet as she walked, footprints left behind with every step she took. winter was cruel, biting at her skin despite the layers of clothing she wore. the chill would hit her face, nipping at the rosy tint of her cheeks and leaving a burning feeling in its wake. her breath formed wispy clouds in the frigid air, dancing in the air before disappearing.

the world around her was adorned in a pristine white coat, the snow-covered landscape painting the perfect picture for december. the holidays were just around the corner, and the air was thick with anticipation for the holiday season with lights and trees decorated on every corner of the city. in america, she wouldn’t feel as lonely. but here in seoul, where couples were seen everywhere, her solitude felt magnified amidst the festive cheer.

the streets now seemed to mock her with their happiness. yunjin carried the weight of memories like a burden, her steps heavier with each passing moment. memories of your laughter intertwined with the wintry air haunted her. she could almost hear your voice carried by the chilly breeze, a reminder of the promises that had dissolved like snowflakes on her warm skin.

the snow continued to fall, delicate and ethereal, each one seemingly adding to the imaginary weight on her shoulders. the winter, once a season she adored, had turned into a relentless reminder of her heartache, and the person who caused it—you.

it was a stark contrast to the warmth and joy she once associated with this time of year.

she walked along the familiar path, the one she used to take with you, memories flooding back like an unwelcome guest crashing through the door. the storefronts adorned with festive decorations seemed to mock her with their joyous displays and festive ornaments.

as she trudged through the snow-covered streets, she couldn't help but recall the way your laughter used to fill the winter air, warming her soul even in the coldest of days.

“yunjin, stop it!” you laughed as she threw a snowball in your direction, watching the mound of white fall at your feet. you stood there, a smile illuminating your face, your eyes twinkling against the blanket that covered your surroundings.

with a mischievous glint in her eyes, yunjin playfully raised another snowball, ready to engage in the friendly battle that always brought warmth to the frosty air. the wintry scene around you transformed into a playful battleground, the two of you exchanging laughter amidst the snowy flurries.

in those moments, the chill in the air couldn't touch the warmth blossoming in her chest. the way you both reveled in each other's company made winter feel like a wonderland, and yunjin wished she could stay in this moment forever.

the playful banter continued, your laughter intermingling with hers, creating a melody that echoed through the serene landscape. the world seemed to slow down, frozen in time like a picturesque scene from a cherished memory.

but just as quickly as the laughter had filled the air, it vanished into the wintry abyss of the past. the memory dissipated, leaving her standing alone amidst the snow-covered streets, a bittersweet ache tugging at her heart.

she poked the inside of her cheek as she kept walking, doing her best to avoid bumping into couples holding hands and hugging along the sidewalk. the streets were adorned with couples, their warmth palpable as they shared tender moments that made yunjin want to vomit. doing her best to push you out of her thoughts, the american continued her solitary walk, her gaze fixed on the corridor decorated with greenery and festive lights.

her steps faltered for a moment as she passed by a nearby park, the flickering glow of a bonfire catching her attention. the barren trees and the ice skating rink set up in the middle of it felt like someone had struck an ice pick straight through her heart. yunjin's heart twisted and tugged as she was suddenly transported back in time, back to one of her favorite memories of you.

“yunny, stop!” you squeaked as the taller girl tried to let go of you, her laughter filling your ears as she gently pulled you closer. “baby, you won’t fall.” she said as gently as she could, trying to loosen your death grip on her bicep.

“look, there’s babies who are skating by themselves.” yunjin teased lightly as she pointed with her head towards the group of middle schoolers who were racing each other around the rink. the glow of the lights above you two casted shades of gold, green, and red across your faces.

you shot a quick glare at the girl, and out of pure muscle memory you let go of her bicep for a moment to shove her. however, you forgot that you were standing on ice with absolutely no ability to skate. your response was immediate, a swift glare followed by a playful shove—an instinctive reaction to her teasing.

however, in the split second of your playful retaliation, you forgot the ground beneath you was an unforgiving sheet of ice, devoid of any grip or stability.

with a gasp, you let go of the taller girl’s arm, reaching out in a futile attempt to steady yourself. but it was too late. your feet lost their delicate balance, slipping out from under you in a comical flurry of flailing arms and legs.

yunjin's eyes widened in surprise, her instinctive reaction to reach out and grab you halted by the sudden realization that she couldn't catch you in time. naturally, the american let out a laugh at the sight of you on your back, only to lose her own balance and land on top of you.

the two of you looked at each other and just burst out laughing, ignoring the cold of the ice and the bitter cold blowing in your faces. you rolled your eyes and giggled as you cupped the taller girl’s face. “that’s what you get for laughing at me.”

it had been a year since you walked away without a backward glance, leaving her to navigate the holiday season alone. yunjin shook her head as she quickly blinked back tears, snapping herself out of her thoughts as she fumbled with the buttons on her jacket. the blonde sniffled, whether from the cold or the sinking feeling in her heart.

the winter air clung to her skin like you used to. but both the weather and you now shared the same feeling now.

it was getting dark, and the american could feel her face going numb from the cold. it was christmas eve. she should be still at her friend’s place, drinking and being surrounded by her loved ones. yunjin wouldn’t admit it outloud, but all she could think about the entire time was you.

the last time she saw you was the night after chaewon’s christmas party last year. it was also the first time yunjin felt her heart being ripped out of her chest.

"i love you," she confessed, her heart laid bare as she gazed at you in the soft illumination of the porch light, your features partially hidden by the shadows cast from the faint glow.

for yunjin, it was a moment that held the weight of a thousand unspoken feelings, a culmination of emotions that she had kept tucked away, afraid of the vulnerability they exposed. her heart beat with a mixture of hope and trepidation, unsure of what your response might be.

in that fleeting moment, the world seemed to hold its breath, the cold air carrying the weight of her confession. she longed for reciprocation, for a glimmer of reassurance in your eyes, a sign that her love wasn't left unanswered in the wintry silence.

you had to feel the same way, right?

but as seconds ticked by, the silence stretched, heavy and filled with uncertainty. you remained shrouded in the shadows, your reaction slightly veiled by the darkness. the absence of a response pierced through yunjin's vulnerable confession, the ache in her chest deepening with each passing moment.

“yunjin,” you whispered, your breath dancing in the air as you watched the taller girl in the soft light. you had previously told the other girl the night before that you liked her back. but this felt different now. it was too much, too soon.

“i can’t do this. i’m sorry.”

with a heavy heart, yunjin swallowed the lump forming in her throat, the frigid air biting at her skin as tears welled in her eyes. yunjin's heart shattered at the sound of those words, the hope that had flickered within her chest extinguished by your gentle yet devastating rejection.

the wintry night bearing witness to the unraveling of emotions between the two of you. it felt like a cruel twist of fate, the contrast between the warmth of her confession and the coldness of your rejection leaving yunjin feeling exposed and vulnerable in the icy darkness.

the ache in her chest grew heavier, a constricting knot of pain that seemed impossible to bear. her heart, once brimming with love and hope, now felt hollow, drained by the weight of unreciprocated feelings.

yunjin's lips quivered, forming words she couldn't voice, her throat constricted by the weight of unspoken emotions. the bitter taste of regret lingered in the wintry air as she held back the tears threatening to spill from her eyes.

with a broken heart and shattered spirit, huh yunjin offered a feeble nod, her voice caught in a strangled whisper as she forced the rest of the air in her lungs out to form a response, "i understand."

as she stood there and watched you walk down the steps, enveloped by the wintry silence and gripping the perfectly wrapped christmas gift she had picked out for you. it was a silver necklace she had saved up for a few weeks for. she picked it out because it reminded her of you in every way.

but the christmas that should have been filled with warmth and love turned into a solitary ache in the midst of the darkness of december. yunjin dreamed of the perfect holiday with you, how she would kiss you in the fresh snow on christmas day. the tears on her face reminded her that reality was far from the dreams she had.

the salt water on her cheeks snapped her back to reality. december’s cruel chill of twilight reminded her that she was standing here in the cold and alone, tears on her cheeks and her nose running. the distant sound of christmas music playing from a nearby building added the only ambience to the otherwise silent evening. it was just another cruel reminder for the american.

she would forever remember this christmas the same way she remembered the last.

heartbroken, alone, and feeling colder than she did the night you left.

⸻

a/n: this entire month will be filled with angst from me idc 💅🏻

#─👤 sunlight speaks #huh yunjin x reader #yunjin #yunjin x reader #lesserafim #lesserafim x reader #angstcember #jennifer huh #jennifer huh x reader #angst #kpop #last christmas #perfectsunlight

228 notes · View notes

cinnamongorll · 19 days

Text

a fragile line - chapter 31

read on ao3! (143k words) | previous chapter | next chapter | masterlist

Pairing: Joel Miller x Female OC

Series tags: extreme slow burn, age gap, older man/younger woman, protective joel, jealous joel, hurt/comfort, pov third person, mutual pining, angst, sexual tension, friends to lovers, canon-typical violence, feral joel, parental abuse, eventual smut.

Series synopsis: three years ago, Juliet escaped her father's religious survivor camp, ending up in the Boston QZ. Juliet created a life for herself in Boston, desperate to forget the trauma of her upbringing. One day, Juliet arrives home to find a mysterious letter which forces her to return to her home town. Juliet can't travel the harsh post-apocalyptic landscape alone, so she enlists the help of the grumpy and, at times, frightening man she works alongside: Joel Miller.

Word count: 3.6k

Chapter 31:

Juliet’s POV:

“Get behind me,” Joel mouthed to her, not daring to make a sound as they approached the seemingly abandoned cabin in the middle of the winter wasteland of Wyoming.

Not wanting an argument, Juliet stepped into line behind him with her gun held firm in her hands. Joel’s horse was loosely tied to the gate at the edge of the property and Juliet prayed that he would stay quiet.

She released a heavy breath and watched it form a hazy cloud in front of her, barely visible anymore in the darkening light.

Ahead of her, Joel’s movements were quick and stiff as he walked up the rickety wooden steps towards the door. Juliet was his shadow, standing so close to him that she could almost feel the heat from his body through the layers of their jackets.

Her heart beat quickly in her chest but, as always when she was with Joel, her fear was diluted by her feverish trust in his ability to keep them safe.

The handle, caught in Joel’s firm grip, turned easily and Juliet held her next breath.

With a quick look behind him at Juliet’s wide eyes, Joel pushed the door open and stepped inside with silent footsteps.

His torch was on, circling the small dark room. It illuminated a dusty fireplace with two worn couches facing it, then as Joel took another step, she could see a small kitchen at the back with a chipped hardwood counter and a wall of peeling red paint.

The cabin was so small that in one sweep Joel was able to lower his shotgun ever so slightly and turn back to Juliet with a nod.

She stepped in cautiously behind him, still stiff with remaining fear. With her own torch, Juliet scanned the other side of the room. Her breath caught when she noticed the handle of a cleverly concealed door against the back wall.

It looked like a closet, so Juliet walked towards it, tucked her torch under her arm and turned the brass handle. The door creaked when it opened and, from the corner of her eye, Juliet saw Joel’s head whip towards her from the other side of the room.

“Wait,” he cautioned as he began to move towards her, rounding the couches.

But it was too late, the door was open.

And it wasn’t a closet.

The smell hit her instantly and Juliet was back in the Boston QZ, surrounded by piles of bodies in various stages of decomposition waiting to get thrown into the firepit.

Her head swung back like she’d been punched as her eyes began to water and, through the mist of her rotten stench induced tears, Juliet peered into the small bedroom and spotted the source of the smell lying on the bed.

Joel was at her back, practically leaning over her shoulder with his shotgun raised, when she noticed the other body.

This one wasn’t lying on the bed.

This one was on its feet, barrelling towards them in sharp, jerky movements.

Juliet’s breath had barely caught in her throat before it didn’t have a head anymore.

She whipped her body around to face Joel as he slowly lowered his shotgun to rest against his side.

He towered over her with his usual broad, imposing presence. Caught in the small gap between the wall and the doorway, Juliet felt as his breath brushed against her face.

His jaw was hard but his eyes were harder.

“Don’t open anymore fuckin’ doors,” he ground out before stepping backwards and doing another sweep of the cabin.

Juliet swallowed and turned back around to take one last look into the room, her eyes lingered on the way the body on the bed was placed. Its hands, while almost skeletal now, had clearly been positioned on top of each other, and what was left of its hair was arranged to rest carefully on the pillow underneath.

Juliet blinked then forced herself to turn away and shut the door before she caught sight of the second body, and what was left of its head.

She hoped that, when the time came, someone would have the care to arrange her body into a peaceful position, to give her some dignity in the end.

Juliet looked down at the gun in her hand and, all at once, a reminder of every bullet she had ever shot came rushing through her head.

She scoffed. Who was she kidding? Juliet didn’t deserve dignity.

When the time came, she’d be lucky if someone had the decency to shut the door on the splattered mess of her body.

…………………..

With his horse safely tucked in the shed outside the cabin, Joel shuffled in and slammed the door behind him with some help from the storm that raged outside.

The wind had picked up, along with the snow, forming the early stages of what might become a worrying blizzard.

Juliet sat on the couch opposite the barren fireplace. Her torch sat on the coffee table, illuminating the supplies she had spread across the surface.

With Tommy’s help, they had enough food to last their journey… whatever it may bring.

She didn’t tell Ethan she was leaving, didn’t tell Charlotte either.

Juliet asked that Tommy tell them that he had sent her and Joel on an extended patrol, to search a nearby town and that they wouldn’t be back for at least a few weeks. Juliet didn’t know if she could look in Ethan’s face and tell him that she was going back to their nightmare. Juliet knew that he would insist that he come too, and she couldn’t do that to him. He had barely got out of her father’s town alive the first time.

Juliet had done what she had set out to do, back when she first showed up at her shift partner’s door and struck a deal which involved far more than they had ever intended…

Juliet had saved Ethan and given him a second chance at life. She saw how happy he looked at the dance, twirling Charlotte around with a grin shining on his face.

She couldn’t allow her never ending baggage to dampen that even slightly.

Her mind was a splattered canvas; shades of guilt, fear and a plethora of trauma darkened every inch.

But this journey would clear it. Finding out what happened to her parents, how she ended up caught in Eilijah’s web… discovering whether or not she would become like him one day… that would solve everything.

Maybe then, she’d be able to look at Joel and see a future for herself, rather than another victim for her dark edges to cling to.

“Everythin’ alright?” Joel asked cautiously as she stopped next to the couch she sat on.

Juliet wiped a cold hand down her face, then turned, blinking up at him.

“Yeah,” she sighed, nodding to the food on the table. “Take your pick.”

Joel eyed her a second longer then reached down to lift a wrapped sandwich and dropped himself beside her on the couch.

He started eating immediately, looking almost ravenous as he devoured Jackson’s finest home cooking.

Between bites, he turned to her and nodded towards the other sandwich on the table. “You better eat somethin’” he said with a warning tone.

Juliet wouldn’t be surprised if he force fed her if she refused.

She leaned forward, grabbing a sandwich of her own and biting into it.

It tasted like ash in her mouth, but she chewed and swallowed, savouring the feeling of fullness it brought her even if her mind was too heavy to appreciate the taste.

The smell of the rotting bodies in the next room didn’t help either, but Juliet was used to pretending she didn’t smell decomposing flesh.

She watched as Joel sniffed and his eyes squinted slightly.

“Reminds me of Boston,” Juliet said quietly.

Joel’s eyes landed on her face with the force of a hard punch. He looked as though years of memories were flashing across his mind.

It seemed that, for a second, he might voice whatever thoughts crossed his mind. Instead, he grunted out an agreement and went back to eating the last bite of his food.

Juliet finished hers and sat the wrapper on the table then leaned back on the couch, dropped her head back, and crossed her arms over her chest.

Even with her eyes closed, she knew when Joel turned his attention to her. She felt it in the trailed heat on her skin.

His words from a few nights before played on a loop in her head. Standing outside the mess hall, her mind hazy from the drinks and Joel’s body pressed against her’s. He’d told her that he had lied, that he was wrong and that he couldn’t stay away. Joel had told her that he wasn’t going to let her go again, and that was why he was here, on this ‘suicide mission’ as he’d called it.

And he’d said all of that, after assaulting her friend in some fit of jealousy.

It was always like that with Joel; violence was wrapped around every emotion. Words were second to what could be said with a stiff punch and a gunshot.

He wasn’t violent with her, not really. Though so many of their interactions had left her gasping for breath and fearful for her recovery.

Juliet’s eyes opened and her head rolled to the side, towards Joel. In the low light of the torch, his eyes were black as they stared down at her with a questioning look.

Maybe it was the dark atmosphere of the cabin, or the fact that it was only them for miles (if you didn’t count the horse and the two corpses in the next room)… but Juliet felt compelled to ask the question which had puzzled her since the dance.

“What did Matt say to you the other night?” she paused, then added, “before you punched him.”

Joel’s eyes widened slightly and Juliet watched as he reached forward to sit his wrapper on the table before leaning back on the couch, matching Juliet’s posture.

Juliet had asked him this same question after it had happened and Joel responded by insisting that Matt couldn’t protect her. But surely he had to have said something to trigger that reaction from Joel, however unwarranted it was.

Joel’s eyebrows scrunched as though he was battling with himself, deciding whether or not to respond.

Suddenly he sighed and his eyes dropped to her lips before meeting her inquisitive look again.

“Didn’t say a damn thing,” Joel replied, his voice was cautious like every word was a struggle to get out.

Juliet blinked, confused.

Joel ran a hand over his jaw, then found her eyes again. “I was at the bar and here he comes walkin over with all this confidence, like he’d won you in a fuckin’ competition or somethin,” he ground out, then let out another slow breath as his fingers drummed against his arm.

“All I could see was the way he had his arms wrapped around you earlier that night,” Joel cut himself off with a shake of his head as his fingers stopped tapping and his hand curled into a fist.

Then he continued with a shrug. “Decided I wanted to wipe that smug smile off his face.”

Joel looked away, staring intently at the fireplace in front of them.

Without the deep rumble of his voice, the wind battering off the window was the only sound to be heard.

Until Juliet began to laugh.

At first, she tried to disguise it as a cough but by the time Joel’s head whipped towards her there were tears dripping down her face.

“I knew you were fucking jealous,” she coughed out between laughs, her whole body shaking.

Joel’s eyes widened and his eyebrows drew together. His face was stone, not a single crack showed.

Until his hand was over her mouth and the other under her chin as he tilted her face up to meet his.

Her laughter stopped the second his skin touched hers.

The edge of his mouth turned upwards as he scanned her eyes. He looked almost proud of his actions.

“You want me to admit I was jealous?” he challenged, “that what you wanna hear?”

With his hand still covering her mouth, Juliet could only nod in response.

His expression darkened.

“I’m jealous of any man who even looks in your direction, Juliet,” he breathed in a thick murmur, as though his words were too private for even the wind to hear. “I wanna tear out their fuckin’ throats.”

Juliet swallowed. There was that violence again.

“I told you that night that you were mine,” he reminded her. “Stayin away from you was only gonna get myself or someone else killed.”

Juliet ached to close the gap between them, to twist herself around until she sat firmly on his thighs, until her mouth was on his.

Joel looked as though he would hear every thought in her head and his thumb began to swipe under her chin, savouring the way she trembled beneath his touch.

“But I also told ya that we were gonna do this right,” he said quietly, then after a moment, he released his grip on her, turned, and sat back against the couch.

Juliet didn’t miss the way his breathing had grown heavy.

“What if I don’t want to do this right?” she whispered, throwing his words back at him.

Her thumping heartbeat was rushing in her ears. She shouldn’t be doing this. There’s too much in her head, there was too much going on.

But in that moment, Joel was all she could focus on.

The hold he had on her was frightening. From that first day in the QZ when he’d scanned her up and down and looked away with what looked like anger darkening his face… Joel had lodged himself in her mind.

“What are you so afraid of?” she breathed, her voice almost pleading.

A muscle jumped in Joel’s jaw as his eyes met hers in a sharp movement.

“You really do have a death wish, don’t you?” he scolded, then ran a hand over his face again.

This time, when his hand left his chin, it didn’t drop to rest on his leg. Instead, in a lightning quick movement, Joel’s hands were under Juliet’s legs and he dragged her onto his lap, with her legs wrapped around his middle and her arms slung over her shoulders.

Juliet gasped but she couldn’t deny the excitement that pulsed through her.

Joel was dangerous and unpredictable and god, did Juliet love when he surprised her.

“This what you want, huh?” he demanded in a growl against her neck.

Juliet threw her head back as his lips traced her skin.

“You want me like this?” he continued to mutter when his lips weren’t attached to her throat. “You want me under you, showin’ you just how much I want you?” Joel taunted as he moved Juliet tighter on his hips, until she felt exactly how much he wanted her.

Juliet had no words. Fire flowed through her veins. She was able to form a single thought, and the most she could utter was a few gentle moans.

Joel laughed at her speechlessness.

“Fuck, baby. You should’ve known you’ve had me this whole time,” he confessed as he ground himself against her and grunted at the feeling.

“When you showed up at my door,” he paused to grip her chin with his strong fingers and tilt her lips down to hover over his, “demandin’ that I take you across the country… I thought I was dreamin’.”

“Everyday on shift I had to watch you smilin’ and laughin’ with everyone but me. I’d convinced myself that you were a nuisance, some silly girl I wanted nothin’ to do with.”

Juliet wasn’t breathing. She hadn’t even realised he’d noticed her back in the QZ.

“But I woulda got on my knees if it meant you’d send one of them smiles my way,” he revealed. “And then you were there, at my door, wantin’ somethin’ from me. I couldn’t fuckin’ believe it.”

Juliet wet her lips and tried to remember how to form a coherent thought.

“I always thought you hated me,” she whispered so close to his lips.

Joel’s jaw clenched as the line between his eyebrows deepened.

“I tried to,” he confessed. “would’ve been so much easier.”

His finger reached up to brush through the lock of her hair that had fallen over his face.

Joel’s hips bucked upwards again and Juliet lost it. She was done waiting.

Juliet closed the gap between them. Her lips found his just as they had outside the mess hall, in a feverish madness.

His mouth was burning hot and his hands had a mind of their own. As his tongue entered her mouth, his hands cradled her skull, pulling at her hair until Juliet pressed herself closer to him, grinding on his need for her.

Her moans here battling against the roar of the wind, and Joel responded with his own grunts which sent heat straight to her core.

His hands danced down her back and kneaded her thighs, always looking for some part of her to touch.

When Juliet reached down to palm him through his jeans, Joel’s head dropped to the back of the couch and Juliet watched in the low light as the lines on his face seemed to lose their prominence.

His eyes were black when they met hers again.

Joel’s mouth opened and he looked as though he wanted to say something but nothing came out, he just kept staring as Juliet began to move to unbutton his jeans.

Then a hand circled her wrist, stopping her.

“No,” he breathed.

“What? Why?” Juliet demanded breathlessly, trying to remember where they were and who she was as she came down from the haze he had trapped her in.

Joel leaned forward and dropped his face into the space between her neck and shoulder, then he inhaled deeply.

“I’m not fucking you on this couch, Juliet,” he ground out slowly, as though the words pained him.

Disappointment was a blade in her chest. But as the world around her returned, Juliet realised that maybe he was right, maybe this wasn’t the right time. Didn’t mean she didn’t want to, and from the evidence beneath her, it was clear that Joel felt the same.

The wind and snow attacked the window and her head whipped towards it, sending a shiver down her spine.

“We better get some sleep,” he said like it was the last thing he wanted to do.

Juliet eased off his lap and back onto the space beside him on the couch, and Joel eased an arm around her shoulders and moved his chin to rest on top of her head.

The sense of familiarity in his movements made Juliet’s eyes prick with tears.

“I kinda missed this,” she murmured against his chest, “just us, out here alone.”

Joel’s lips brushed across her hair. “Yeah, me too,” he agreed.

Juliet listened to Joel’s heartbeat as she fell asleep. Somehow, in a cabin in the middle of a blizzard, with two corpses in the next room, Juliet had never felt safer.

Joel’s POV:

He woke with the winter sun.

From the window he could see that outside was a dazzling white, almost blinding to his tired eyes.

Maybe it was because sleep still soaked his subconscious, but Joel’s mind conjured up memories of Sarah looking out the kitchen window and screaming with an excitement that could only come from witnessing fresh, untouched snow and the promise of a day off school.

When he blinked the memory disappeared and Sarah’s voice was nothing more than a haunting sound still ringing in his mind, replaced by another scream at the mercy of a soldier’s gun.

Without disturbing Juliet who still slept against his chest, Joel reached a hand up to wipe over his face, brushing away any memory which would make it impossible for him to find any will to go on.

He blinked again and his eyes found Juliet’s hand curled around his shirt, tucked under his jacket. A smile almost tugged at his mouth. She really was something.

When she slept, Joel always thought she looked so peaceful, like nothing could dare disturb that gentle look on her face.

But he knew peace wasn’t a reality for Juliet, or for him.

Joel had thought she had found it in Jackson. He was ready to let her go if it meant that she was happy.

Joel flinched when that image of the scar on her torso flashed in his mind. A wave of nausea rose when he remembered the sight of her still body in that chair with her blood soaked top.

He wished every fucking day that he had killed her father slower. That he had made him feel the same pain that she had felt her whole fucking life.

Joel’s hand curled into a fist against his jeans.

If this suicide mission they were on would finally bring Juliet some peace, Joel was willing to risk his own life to get her there, to find those answers she needed.

But if she got hurt again… Joel would never forgive himself for letting her leave Jackson.

His terror for Juliet’s safety was eating him alive.

He’d let it slip last night, some idea of how he felt about her.

But Juliet didn’t have any idea.

She might run screaming if she knew exactly how much he cared about her. Joel didn’t even think there were words to express it.

Maybe when they got back from this alive, he’d find that farmhouse he told her about all those months ago.

Together, living in a farmhouse away from everyone and everything, raising sheep… that was the peace he wanted to make a reality.

Maybe then he’d let himself be selfish.

Maybe then he’d tell her that he was madly in love with her.

Maybe then he might be able to deserve her.

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

@amyispxnk @casa-boiardi @http-paprika @shotgun-shelby @weeping-werewolf @mysaviorjoelmiller @chlojoceycom

#joel miller #joel miller x female oc #joel miller x reader #joel miller x original character #joel miller x oc #joel miller fanfic #joel miller angst #joel miller hbo #ao3 fanfic #joel miller fic #pedro pascal #tlou #joel tlou #the last of us #tlou hbo #Spotify

75 notes · View notes

lipglossanon · 5 months

Text

Winter’s Knight

vampire!Leon S. Kennedy x fem!reader

inspired by Leon’s romantic look 😌 and the song Dracula’s Wedding by OutKast 💜 also the poetry mentioned is from Emily Dickinson; there’s also one line plucked from Dracula

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, biting/marking, fated pair, strangers to lovers, blood, blood kink, scent kink, dirty talk, oral (f receiving), OC friend of reader named Lara just in case that throws anyone off, unprotected sex, creampie

title from Winter’s Knight album by Nox Arcana

Merry Christmas/Happy Holidays!! 💜 😘

“It’s an opportunity of a lifetime,” you mimic in a high tone before rolling your eyes, “opportunity my ass.”

Your friend Lara convinced you to go on this holiday trip with her, all expenses paid, as she wanted the company. The boyfriend that was originally going to be accompanying her had been dumped the week prior. Cheaters never win had been Lara’s flippant reply when asked.

It felt like it happened overnight and before you knew it, Lara had whisked you away to three different countries one of which being the current visit in question. You think you’re in Romania or maybe Estonia; you’re a little mixed up as your plans had changed mid train ride.

Lara’s family had some connections in the area and so you were both staying in a rather posh old castle turned tourist destination.

A very lovely place except now you were completely turned around when all you wanted was to get a bottle of water from the concierge and go back to bed. Your footsteps have slowed considerably as you take in the magnificent gothic architecture and the beautiful paintings ranging from landscapes to some strange brooding man encapsulated in shadows; you’re never fully able to make out what he looks like, too much shadow blanking his features.

You find yourself at a dead end, ornate furniture filling the space with a singular painting taking up the entire wall. It literally takes your breath away. It must be the place you’re staying in, the front gate still looks the same from what you can tell; it’s this castle seated on a rocky cliff face overlooking the villa down below. Your hand reaches out to touch, but you hover over the gilded frame before dropping it back to your side.

“Lovely, no?”

A smooth, low voice has you spinning around, a thrill of fear humming in your chest.

A man stands to the side, a little further down the hall. He’s tall, slim waisted with broad shoulders that stick out to you, even being shrouded in the dim lighting like he is; his eyes shine like an animal’s before you blink and it’s gone.

That small niggling of fear in your brain is getting louder as he moves closer, making no sound in his sharp dress shoes.

He keeps his eyes locked on the painting as he stops next to you.

“Quite an ancient castle,” he murmurs, almost too low for you to hear.

When he finally turns to face you, you almost gasp. He’s beautiful, almost ethereal with his snowy white hair and fair complexion; both make the blue of his eyes almost glacial.

He smiles sardonically, “Lost?”

You squint your eyes at him, lips pursing in suspicion, “You could say that.”

He grins and his teeth glint sharply before he turns, holding his arm out for you.

“I can guide you back to your room, miss?”

You smile sarcastically as you step up alongside him, completely ignoring the proffered arm, “Miss is just fine, sir.”

His eyes flick from the end of the hallway to you and he hums in amusement, “Well miss, shall I lead the way?”

“Oh, please do,” you simper and this earns a low chuckle from the handsome stranger, making your heartbeat flutter at the sound.

He guides you back to the foyer and up the grand staircase, pointing out paintings or furniture that have some kind of significance to the castle. Pausing in front of an oil painting not far from your room, he falls into a sort of melancholy.

“This was one of the ladies of the castle,” he finally pulls back, turning without looking back at you, “I’m sure you can find the rest of your way, miss.”

You startle, not realizing he was just going to dip out now.

“Hey!”

He pauses, half turning so you can see the profile of his straight nose and sharp cheekbone.

“Thanks, mister?” You trail off, hand fluttering in the air as you gesture.

He fully turns to smile at you, “Mister is just fine, thanks.”

You can’t stop the laugh that bubbles out of your chest, missing the way he lights up at the sound, eyes cataloging you far more closely than before.

“Well, thanks Mister,” you shake your head, smile still stretched across your face, “maybe I’ll see you around then.”

“Maybe,” he murmurs, bowing to you at the waist, “goodnight, Miss.”

“Goodnight,” you tilt your head and wave your hand.

Laughing to yourself, you turn and head further down the hall and into your room. He watches you until the door clicks shut and he turns back to leave. Pausing in front of the painting once more, he brushes a thumb across the placard on the bottom.

“She feels like the one, hmm?” He murmurs to the half smiling woman, “now that she’s here, I don’t know if I can do it.”

A door snapping shut from further down the hall has him pulling away from the painting and slipping off into the night.

You run into the strange gentleman again in the castle gardens situated just to the side of the towering edifice. Since Lara’s pacing in her room trying to figure out what went wrong with your travel plans, you decided to go for a walk instead of sitting around doing nothing.

You’re looking at one of the dead withered trees off to the side, debating if sitting on the bench here is safe from any falling branches when that low smoky tone speaks behind you.

“There’s a certain slant of light, On winter afternoons, that oppresses, like the heft of cathedral tunes.”

You squash your urge to jump in place and spin around to face him. He’s no less devastatingly pretty in the weak winter sunlight.

“Good afternoon to you, too,” you smile, enjoying the weirdness he exudes, “and what a conversation starter, might I add.”

He meets your smile with his own little grin, “Somber poetry for a somber day.”

You giggle, “Guess so.”

He gestures and you sit on the bench as he takes a seat next to you.

“Here on vacation?” You kick at a loose rock with your booted foot.

“You could say I’m here for leisure,” he muses, blue eyes taking in every nuance of you.

You tilt your head to look at him, “Oh I could, huh?”

Laughing, you straighten up, hands fiddling with the clasp on your jacket, “Well, I’m also here for leisure. Even though it’s kind of an accident.”

He raises an eyebrow and you continue, “It was a mix up and we ended up here. A vacation, just not in the right place.”

“How fortunate am I,” he smirks and you feel heat blaze in your chest, eyes dropping to look down at your jacket.

You tug on the zipper, catching your finger in the teeth with a hiss. It snags a bit of skin as you jerk it free, blood beading on your fingertip.

His features are serious as he takes your hand in his, “You must see to it so it doesn’t become infected.”

You nod, touched at his concern, “I have some alcohol swabs and bandaids up in my room.”

He brings your hand closer and you get the wild idea he means to suck your finger into his mouth, but he only kisses the back of your hand as he pulls a handkerchief from his pocket, a light gray fabric that looks like it costs more than your entire wardrobe. You catch his initials, L.S.K., monogrammed in black on the edge.

“Thank you,” you murmur, feeling flushed in the cool afternoon air as you clasp the handkerchief to your finger.

“My pleasure. Shall I escort you back to your room, miss?”

Lips parting, you take in his pinched features as he stares at your hand before nodding again, “Yes, please.”

His eyes snap up and he smiles, relief spreading across his face, “Good, good.”

Once you’re both standing, he snags your elbow with his fingers and gently guides you along. Since he’s much closer than before and you’re not sniffling from the cold air, you catch a strong smell of cedar and cloves that nearly makes you swoon.

“Are you okay?” He stops, grip firming up on your bicep to tug you closer making the smell even stronger.

“‘m okay,” you murmur, eyes drooping as you slump against his chest, “just smell good.”

You feel him laugh and the low baritone makes your cunt throb so hard you whine into his jacket.

“Maybe moving from the cold into the warmth has made you dizzy,” he says kindly, “come, let me help you to your room.”

Completely unsure as to what’s happening to you, you let him lead you back to your room. Your legs don’t seem to want to move the way you want to and the more you breathe in whatever cologne he’s wearing, the more slick drips from your pussy into the gusset of your panties to the point you’re soaked between your thighs.

He murmurs low platitudes in your ear that just makes everything better worse, so by the time you make it back to your room and he eases you down into your bed, you’re asking him to stay.

“No. You’ll thank me later,” he soothes, pulling off your winter boots and tucking you under the covers.

“Please,” tears prick your waterline, emotions and hormones all over the place.

His lips thin and he runs a hand through his white hair, strands ruffled when he clasps your hands together, “Just close your eyes. I’ll stay here.”

Dropping to the floor, he kneels alongside your bed, keeping your hands together. Struggling to keep your eyes open, you just know he won’t be there when you wake up and some part of you hates that idea.

“Didn’t think it would affect you like this,” he murmurs as you drift off.

With a small shift, he moves forward and pulls the pricked finger into his mouth. His hot tongue lashing against the digit is the last thing your mind holds onto before it slips away like sand in the tide.

When you come to, it’s dark outside and Lara is shaking your shoulder.

“Finally,” she huffs, brows pinched, “thought I was gonna have to take you to a doctor or something. You good?”

You squint at her but can’t remember anything but the stranger you met helping you back inside from the cold. The rest is a cloudy blank in your mind.

“Yeah, just tired I guess,” you raise up, pushing the blankets away to swing your feet out of bed, “what’s up?”

As you shift, you notice a small square cloth and a bolt of memory, of sitting on the bench with that man, makes your eyes widen. You pick up the handkerchief and tuck it into your pocket.

She smiles weakly, “Kinda stuck here a few more days then we’ll just fly back home in time for Christmas.”

You frown, an uncomfortable sadness pinging in your chest, “Oh? That’s fine. I like it here, so it’s not like it’s a hardship.”

Lara laughs, “Maybe for you. I’m ready to be somewhere that has pizza delivery.”

You grin, “Fair enough,” you push her shoulder, “well, when do we plan on leaving?”

“Two days is what my travel agent says,” she looks down at her phone, “that was the nearest opening since it’s the busy season and plus a storm is coming in tonight.”

“Ahh,” you nod along, “plenty of time to sightsee then.”

She giggles at your teasing and stands up from the bed, “I just wanted to let you know. It’s kinda late but the kitchen’s still open if you wanna grab something. I’m honestly exhausted from being on the phone all day so I’m gonna crash.”

“Hang on!”

You throw on some shoes and meet her at the door, “I’ll walk you to your room and head down to grab some food. You sure you don’t want anything?”

“Nah,” she shakes her head, “I had something earlier since I thought you’d eaten. You sure you’re feeling okay, though?”

“Mmhmm,” you smile, pausing outside her door, “promise.”

She returns your smile, “Okay, goodnight then.”

“Night!”

The door snaps shut behind you as you walk away, heading to the staircase and down to the restaurant. You take your time, stopping to look at various paintings on the way down, even pausing in front of a suit of armor to peer into the empty helm.

“Expecting a skeleton?”

You jump backwards, nearly tripping as you stumble into the firm chest behind you.

Righting yourself, you feel hot all over in embarrassment as you meet your strange acquaintance for the second time today.

“U-uh, hi,” you feel jittery with nerves, like a new crush, “thank you for today by the way. I don’t know how I got into my room, but I’m guessing you helped?”

His brows raise in surprise, but it’s quickly replaced by a warm smile that makes butterflies flutter in your chest, “Yes, you weren’t feeling well. Dizzy from the temperature change.”

You take a half step back, leaving more distance between you two.

“Well, thank you,” you clear your throat, “uh, I was going down for a late dinner, do you want to join me?”

A sly grin crosses his features making you nervous, “I’d be delighted although I’ve already.. eaten this evening.”

“O-oh okay,” you stumble over your words as you turn to walk down the stairs, “anything you’d recommend?”

A sharp bark of laughter escapes him as he walks alongside you, “No, nothing I’d recommend. Although I’ve heard their special today is excellent.”

Surprised at his outburst, your brows furrow as you smile in confusion, “If you say so.”

You lapse into a comfortable silence as you both make the walk to the dining room. There’s just something about him that draws you in like a moth to a flame. At first you just thought it was his strange mannerisms, but in the short span of time that you’ve spent together you just feel connected on some hidden level that you’ve only just discovered.

Dinner is a quiet affair; the strange man, who you still don’t know the name of, joins you for your meal. He makes small talk about the local area in which he’s well informed about, no surprise. After you’ve finished your meal, he offers to take you out for an after dinner stroll around the castle before bed.

Not wanting to leave his company just yet, you readily agree and let him lead you around the place. It’s as he’s guiding you down a long L shaped hallway filled with more paintings that a chill runs down your spine and he freezes in place, half turning to shield you from the person who seems to materialize in front of you two.

“Hello, Leon,” a silky voice purrs as a beautiful woman steps into view.

She’s beautiful and ethereal in a way that’s almost terrifying, much like the mysterious gentleman half blocking your view; Leon she called him.

“What a lovely surprise,” she steps closer, form appearing to ripple in the dappled moonlight streaming from the windows.

“Ada, how can I be of service?” His polite tone’s cold and to the point, even as he pushes you further behind him.

“Aww, don’t be like that,” she lilts, voice playful and coaxing, “I’ve already seen your pretty playmate. Is she a new friend?”

You blink and the dark haired woman is standing next to you, Leon twisting uncomfortably to turn around.

She twirls a strand of your hair with a manicured nail, “I won’t bite. Unless she asks,” she winks at you and your eyes widen in surprise.

“She’s new, yes. A visitor,” Leon’s hand reaches out to grasp your hip, tugging you into his side, “so don’t play games.”

“Games?” She laughs, eyes bright, “are you still sore that I stole Claire away?” she pouts at him, “she wasn’t your one, so why are you still upset?”

You watch all of this with rapt attention and so much confusion.

He scowls at her, eyes darkening as he straightens his stance, “It doesn’t matter if she was the right one or not, you stole her away from me.”

She laughs outright at that, side stepping away from you and closer to him, “Can’t steal someone if they want to be taken, right, Leon?”

He deflates a little, gaze flitting to you and back to her, “What do you want now?”

“To bother you,” she smiles over at you and you notice her incisors are longer than normal, “since I’m just passing through, thought I would say hello to an old friend.”

They stare at each other for a beat longer than what’s comfortable before she sighs melodramatically.

“As much as I would love to stay, and believe me I want to so very badly,” she blows a kiss at Leon as she walks backwards to the far end of the gallery, “I do have unfinished business nearby that I must take care of. Ciao!”

It’s so quiet after she leaves that the ringing in your ears sounds abnormally loud.

Leon clears his throat and gives you an apologetic smile, “I’m very sorry about all of that.”

You wave your hands, “No worries. It’s not really my business, y’know.”

He winces at that and you scrunch your nose, internally cringing at yourself. It’s a somber feeling as he quietly leads you back to your room.

Pausing at the threshold, you reach out and snag the sleeve of his shirt.

“Hey,” you murmur, dropping your gaze to the fabric you’ve pinched between your fingers, “you wanna meet up tomorrow?”

He frowns although you don’t see it and slowly tugs his arm loose, “I don’t know.”

Whatever feeling that has been building in your chest feels like a punctured balloon at his flippant tone.

“Oh,” you drop his shirt like it burns, willing the tears away at least until you can shut the door, “I-I didn’t mean to— nevermind. Kinda silly of me. Hopefully I’ll see you before we leave.”

His fingers circle around your wrist tightly, holding you in place, “You’re leaving?”

You level him with a flat stare, “Of course. We’re only here for a couple more days. So if you’ll excuse—“

He presses forward, pushing you through the doorway to follow after, letting the door swing shut behind you both.

“Let go of me,” you twist your arm but Leon doesn’t budge.

A concentrated look arrests his features, blue eyes skimming down your body and back up to your face.

“Leon,” you bite out sharply, making him draw up short, “that’s your name, right?”

“Yes,” his eyes look wild as he lets go of your wrist to grasp both of your hands with his own, “yes, my name is Leon. Leon Kennedy. I’m sorry, this isn’t quite how I wanted things to go.”

You finally pull your arm away, “I’d like it if you left. I’m really confused and you’re acting strange.”

He looks at you so sadly it makes your chest hurt, “Can I show you something? I’ll leave you alone after that if that's what you’d like.”

Pursing your lips, you squint at him until you finally nod, “Alright.”

His shoulders sag and he walks back over to the door. Holding it open, he waits until you cross the threshold before stepping back in front of you. You make the short walk to the painting down the hall from your door when Leon pauses.

You look at the painting then to his serious face with raised brows.

“You’re showing me this again?” Confusion colors your tone, “am I missing something?”

“Have you read the name underneath?”

Shaking your head no, you step forward to read the small gold plate underneath.

“Claire Kennedy née Redfield,” you murmur to yourself.

Claire? That mysterious woman mentioned her name earlier. The one Leon said she stole away. The correlation is there but you feel like you’re missing a huge part of the puzzle to actually end up at the correct explanation.

You turn to Leon, “So is this the Claire you were talking about?”

He nods, eyes heavy and sad as he flits his gaze between you and the painting, “Yes. It was a political marriage. We were friends before everything happened.”

“Ookay,” you frown again, “so she ran off with her girlfriend?”

He flinches at that, “My other wife.”

You feel floored, “Wait, what?!”

Rubbing your forehead, you’re getting a pain behind your left eye from trying to parse it all together.

“So, your new wife ran off with your then current wife? Am I getting that right? How long ago was this, Leon?”

He gestures a little wildly at the plaque, “You didn’t see the year?”

Squinting, you lean forward and can make out circa 1849.

“Fuck off,” you blurt out, leaning back and taking a half step away, “what kinda joke is this?”

“I wait my whole life to bite the right one,” he mutters to himself, hand raking through his parted hair, “that’s not to say I didn’t mess up a couple of times before.”

You take another step back, away from Leon, “What do you mean?”

His eyes snap over to you and you freeze in place. Everything about him seems to be amplified to ten now, he’s exuding an energy that makes the hair on your arms stand up.

“You’re the one,” he steps up until he’s in your personal space, “Ada and Claire were accidents. I didn’t realize that there’s only one compatible partner for me.”

“Compatible partner?” voice pitching high, “you sound crazy right now.”

His brows lower, “You feel it too, little miss. It’s why you passed out earlier. Blood calls to blood.”

You’re hit with a wall of need so crippling your legs give out making you come down hard on your knees.

“I’ve been shielding you,” he murmurs, kneeling in front of you, hands reaching out to brush across your jaw and neck, “it’s a lot to take in, I know.”

Gasping in deep breaths, you’re overwhelmed with the scent of cedar and cloves from earlier. You don’t know how you forgot that smell but now it’s all you can concentrate on; your head goes fuzzy as arousal sweeps through your body.

“What is this?” you slur, eyes hazy as you slump forward into Leon’s shoulder, “what did you do t’me?”

“Nothing,” he soothes, petting down your back, “it’s just the effect of the compatibility. I can’t explain it; I just instinctively know it’s right.”

Reaching out, your hands weakly clasp at his shirt, “I don’t understand.”

“It’s okay,” he coos, “let me take you to my room.”

Not able to argue against him, he easily lifts you into a bridal carry. He uses one hand to block your eyes and you feel cold wind before he removes his palm and you see you’re in a room three times the size of your own. Leon eases you down onto an absurdly luxurious bed, sheer drapes lost to the shadows of the ceiling.

Once he steps away, leaving a sizable gap between you both, the dizziness subsides and your thoughts aren’t as fleeting.

“What the fuck?” you whisper, hands shakily brushing wisps of your hair back from your face, “what the ever loving fuck? Am I losing my mind?”

Your eyes quickly dart around, taking in the opulate furnishings and huge windows overlooking the cliff side, showcasing you now must be on the upper level of the castle. Your gaze lands on a time worn painting off to the side of Leon and his first wife, the dark haired beauty he called Ada. Next to it is another portrait of his second wife, Claire, yet another beautiful woman with red hair.

Leon’s hands ball into fists at his sides as he takes in a deep breath, “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

“Leon, what’s going on?” Your voice breaks, mind struggling to keep up with what’s happening to you.

“My first wife,” he points to the older portrait, “we were human at the time.”

“At the time?” You squeak out.

He hums, eyes flashing in the low light, “Yes. Then the change occurred to me after getting lost on a hunting trip. When I returned, I offered it to her but she refused,” he tilts his head up and shields his eyes with a hand, “and I made her like me anyways. She was my wife. Our vows were to be together in sickness and in health. She didn’t see it that way.”

You watch as he shakes his head and pinches the bridge of his nose, stepping to the portrait with his fingers outstretched but never outright touching the canvas.

“She said it was til death do us part but I thought she was my one,” he sighs sorrowfully, “so I changed her and she loathed me. She eventually left one night never to come back. I didn’t chase after her, resigned to her resentment. I didn’t hear from her for hundreds of years. Then Claire came along.”

Your eyes jump from Ada to the smiling redhead in the other portrait.

“Her brother needed her to marry someone with an upstanding background; someone with title and lands to trade,” he smiles bitterly at you, “I posed as my own great great nephew and set up the marriage. We became friends through our letters and when we wed it was wonderful. I kept what I was from her for as long as possible.”

He steps over to you and you flinch making his eyes droop in pain.

“She figured it out quickly, such a smart woman,” he smiles crookedly, “I loved her dearly, but she wasn’t enough either. I changed her thinking that this is it, but it wasn’t. She wasn’t the one either. Ada came soon after and easily whisked her away from me.”

He sighs forlornly. Your lips part but you change your mind and refrain from saying anything.

“Claire’s brother even convinced Ada to change him so he could defend her honor against me,” he blows out a short breath, “letting you know in case he shows up to be the gallant hero.”

“Leon,” you murmur, at a complete loss for words.

“We all understand each other now and they’re happy where they are,” he laughs derisively at himself, “and I’ve lived alone here, running this place through a shell company hoping against hope for just one more chance.”

“This is insane,” you finally say to him, “you’re telling me you’re a vampire and I’m beholden to you? And on top of that you practically have a coven. This is impossible.”

“But you feel the pull, too,” his voice dips into that low smoky tenor, “you’re the one. You are to be my new bride.”

Your laugh startles you both, but you can’t stop the manic giggles once they start. Once the mania seems to pass and with it your hysterical laughter, you finally get yourself under control and clear your throat.

“Prove it,” you tell him seriously, heart beating so fast your sure he can hear it, “let me see this vampire side of yours and if I believe you, if you convince me, then I’ll be your bride.”

His smile lights up his whole face making your breath catch.

“That’s easily done.”

He stands directly in front of you and that strange energy fills the room; you watch in complete astonishment as he looks like he dissolves until there’s only mist floating in the air. It drifts languidly past you and you feel the bed dip with body weight.

His hot breath caresses your ear, “Is that enough, little bride?”

A full body shudder hits you as he kisses across your neck, the sharp prick of fangs dragging across your skin.

“Let me bite you,” he whispers sweetly, “let me show you how deep our bond truly is.”

Feeling completely off centered, you breathe out one word without thinking, going with only what feels right.

“Yes.”

His teeth sink into the side of your neck and you cum, slick filling your panties until you’re sure it’s dripping down your thighs. It feels like a typhoon of emotions rains down through your body, pleasure so strong your eyes sting; then, it’s swept through to be quickly replaced by a feeling of home so deeply connected to the man behind you you could openly weep. It’s like a puzzle piece slotting into place somewhere in your chest.

Moaning, your hands scratch at the bedding and he hums against your skin. Pulling away with a low groan, he runs his tongue over the puncture marks.

“So good,” he mouths against your jaw, “let me mark you again.”

Whimpering, you lean back against him as he sinks his teeth into a new spot, softly sucking blood from the wound. His hands slip around your waist to pull you into the V of his thighs. You choke out a whine as your cunt throbs, on the verge of another orgasm and he hasn’t even touched you intimately aside from his teeth in your neck.

“Leon,” you keen, one hand reaching over your head to tangle in his soft, snowy hair.

Chillbumps race down your body when he finally pulls away to place a soft kiss on the bite. He sucks at the tender skin making you mewl longingly until he pulls away with a sigh.

“Let me taste that sweet little pussy,” he purrs in your ear, “I have been dreaming of biting your thighs and kissing your cunt til you can’t take anymore.”

Tugging his hair harder, you whimper and nod your head, “Please, Leon.”

The scent of cedar comes across stronger as he kisses your neck one last time before shifting you both until you’re laying back on his bed. He strokes his hands all down your body, eyes drinking in your expressions.

“You’ve been driving me crazy this entire time,” he slowly undresses you, scraping his sharp incisors against the skin he reveals, “smell so good, so sweet. Makes my mouth water.”

You whimper while watching as he unbuttons your jeans and works them and your panties off of your legs. He groans to see the slick mess between your thighs, cunt glistening with your arousal.

“Look at you,” he breathes out, blown out pupils flicking up to your own dazed eyes.

Wasting no time, he lays down between your spread legs and kisses the top of your pussy, ignoring where you most want his mouth. He drags his lips down and then buries his face in your cunt, spreading your lips apart with his tongue as he licks all over your pussy. Grunting, he shoves his tongue into your hole to spear you open on the thick muscle.

“Leon,” you whisper down to him, feeling so turned on you can’t think straight.

He groans and pulls back, “Don’t worry, I’ll take care of you.”

With a sigh, you relax against the sheets only to jolt as your pussy throbs when he bites you at the crease where your cunt meets your thigh.

Crying out softly, your head thrashes against his bed as he repeats it on the other side.

“I know, but bear with me,” he murmurs, blood coating his mouth as he lovingly kisses the puncture wounds, “doing so well.”

You splay back out against his sheets as he buries his face between your thighs again. He keeps your legs spread as he slowly kisses and sucks at your cunt, like he’s never tasted anything better in his life. Everything’s sensitive and on the verge of too much, but you wouldn’t dream of asking him to stop. That slow syrupy pleasure that’s made your thoughts honey thick is more than welcome.

He laps along the seam of your pussy lips until he glides the tip of his tongue up to the hood of your clit. Leon circles the pudgy bud all slow and soft, tongue dipping down to flutter inside your soaked hole. Groaning at the slick flooding his mouth, he laps at your cunt with long broad strokes of his tongue. He pulls back to suck on your pussy lips before kissing across to your thigh and sinking those sharp fangs into your supple skin.

Your back arches, a low whine spilling from your kiss bitten lips. He kisses and sucks the bitemark until it's ugly and irritated, then drags his lips back to your cunt, kissing your mound softly. He makes out with your pussy with hot and bloody open mouthed kisses, spit drenching your swollen clit as you moan loudly.

Your orgasm builds higher and higher until it’s a tight band ready to snap in your lower belly. Leon senses you getting closer from your body spasming and your voice gaining in volume as he greedily eats your cunt, hungry eyes watching you from between your legs.

With a low keening groan rumbling from deep in his chest, he sinks his fangs into your fat pussy lips as he fucks his tongue into your clenching hole. That pinprick of pain flooded by intense pleasure is enough to push you completely over the edge. Wailing, your spine bows as your climax floods through your body, cunt pulsing and gushing slick as your toes curl in the sheets.

Almost growling into your pussy, Leon flutters his tongue into your hole, lapping up all the slick dripping from your cunt, tongue loudly squelching in and out of your clenching walls.

He finally pulls away with a low moan of pleasure, lower jaw coated with slick and blood.

“So good for me, little bride,” he slinks up your body, joints moving unnaturally but you're hardly able to think past the pleasure buzzing in your brain, “going to make you mine, keep you forever.”

Humming, you tangle your fingers in his hair and pull him down into the messiest kiss of the night. He almost snarls into your kisses as he gets rougher, tongue and teeth dominating your mouth, a bruising pressure on your lips.

“Promise me you’ll stay,” he demands, eyes flashing at you as he presses you down harder into the mattress, “stay with me, be mine.”

You softly brush back his hair, voice soothing as you reply, “I promise, Leon. I’m all yours. I’ll be your new bride.”

He nuzzles his face into your neck before sinking those deliciously sharp teeth into you again. Weakly moaning, your eyes roll back as your clit throbs in time with your heartbeat. You feel him shudder when he pulls away to kiss the sluggishly bleeding marks.

“My bride,” he sighs, dragging his pouty lips across your jaw, nose tracing your skin, “you promise to give me all that you are.. all that you will be.”

“Promise,” you gasp out as his hand sneaks down to tease across your clit, cunt soaking the sheets further with fresh slick, “promise, Leon.”

He kisses you then, the hot copper tang of blood flavoring his sweet sentiment. You’re swept under another tide of arousal from his messy lips and tongue while his fingers play with your pudgy clit.

He shifts until he’s next to you, blood smeared mouth parted as his eyes trail down your body. Gripping your hip, he helps turn your body to face him, leaving you both lying on your sides. Your hands reach out to trail down his chest just now noticing that he’s still dressed.

“No fair,” you tease, tugging on the silky material.

He laughs softly, bringing your hand up to kiss your inner wrist before scraping his fangs across the sensitive skin making you shiver. Letting go of your hand, he quickly undresses, dropping his clothes off the side of the bed in a heap. You bite your lip, taking in the long lean lines of his body, eyes widening to see his thick cock filled out and resting against his thigh.

“Leon,” you breathe out, wide eyes tracking back up to his pale blue ones.

This time your hands lightly scratch along his pecs to his twitching abdominal muscles, nails barely scratch the soft thatch of hair above his hard cock.

“You can touch me, liebling,” his lips quirk up into a half smile, “I only bite a little.”

A giggle slips out and your hand grasps the base of his dick and squeezes earning a low groan from the handsome man next to you.

“Stroke me, tease me, do whatever you wish,” he murmurs, hands coming up to cup your breasts, “I’ll enjoy it all.”

You whimper as his long fingers dig into the soft flesh of your breasts, thumbs rubbing circles across your stiff nipples.

While one of your hands teases the head of his dick, you slide the other one to cup his balls making his cock kick, blurting precum onto your fingers.

“It’s so sticky,” you murmur unthinkingly, smearing the precum around his tip making it slippery for your fingers to rub across.

He groans loudly, bucking his hips and sliding his cock through your fingers in a clumsy effort to fuck your loose fist.

“And these are so sensitive,” his low tone razes goosebumps as he tweaks and pinches your nipples until you’re rubbing your thighs together.

“Leon,” you moan, arching your back to press your breasts more firmly into his hands.

“I haven’t had a chance to taste these,” he purrs, ducking his head to nip your chest.

“Please,” you tighten your hand around his cock and pump your fist, “bite me.”

He presses closer against you, hands pushing your breasts up as he dips his head down. Kissing the stiff peak, he licks around the puckered skin close to your nipple.

“Smell so good,” he mumbles, kissing your nipple softly before sucking it into his mouth.

He rolls his tongue around the hard bud before pulling away with a soft pop. He drags his lips down to suck on the skin underneath your breast before opening his mouth and biting deep into the tender flesh.

“Oh god,” you cry out, body writhing so much Leon has to use one hand to grip your ribcage tightly to keep you still.

You're too out of it to jerk him off, hands instead moving to grab onto his hips. He pulls away with a gasp only to sink his bloody teeth into the soft fat of your other breast. Your cunt is a drippy mess by the time he pulls away the second time, tongue sucking the blood off his fangs as his eyes seem to shine with unnatural light.

“The finest of wines,” he smiles at you, licking his lips slowly.

Your cunt throbs and aches, walls fluttering around nothing—feeling empty and needy.

“Leon,” you grab his hand and guide it to your soaked cunt, “please, I want you.”

“Oh my beautiful bride, so wet and ready for me,” he hisses, easily sinking two fingers knuckle deep into your clenching pussy.

Your hands move from his hips to dig into his shoulders making him grind his fingers deeper into your aching cunt. He pulls them halfway out before thrusting them back in, the flat of his palm smacking against your swollen clit.

Nails digging deeper into his skin, you rock your hips in time with his hand, whining and moaning as he fingerfucks your pussy rough and deep.

“Such a sweet little wife I have,” he kisses your ear as your eyes struggle to stay open, cunt clamping down on his fingers from the endearment.

He drags his cock against your thigh, smearing precum against your skin to mix with the slick dripping from your pussy.

“I want to be inside you,” he whispers hotly against your lips, “I want to be buried deep in my bride’s pussy as I drink from her pleasured body.”

“Yes, yes, yes,” you chant, throat dry from all your gasping and panting, “I need you inside me, Leon. Please.”

He pulls his fingers out slowly making you whimper once your cunt’s empty again. Leon shushes you gently, gripping his cock in one hand while his other grabs your thigh and wraps it over his waist. Rubbing the fat head of dick up and down your slit, he teases his cock across your hole before using the tip to part your pussy lips and rub across your sensitive clit.

You rock your hips forward and he kisses your neck, tongue lapping at the marks he left. Moving his cock back down, he slowly presses his dick into your leaking hole.

“So tight,” he murmurs, praise lacing his tone and making you hump down onto his cock.

He lets you work your wet cunt on his dick until he’s buried fully inside your pulsing heat.

“Needed this,” he groans, rutting his cock slowly in and out of your pussy, “needed to be inside of you, a part of you.”

Pleasure washes over you like the tide meeting the shore. Leon’s cock grinds against the spongy spot at the front of your cunt making you ooze slick until it’s dripping down his balls, leaving a creamy ring around the base of his dick.

With a small shift, he rolls you completely over onto your back, body weight pressing you down into the mattress as he fucks in deeper inside your fluttering pussy. His pelvis grinds down onto your pudgy clit sending little bolts of desire throughout your whole body.

“Leon, so good,” you whimper, fingers grasping at his biceps, hips rolling forward to keep his dick inside you, leaking tip pressed against your cervix.

“Taking me so well, a perfect fit,” he kisses you gently, sucking your tongue into his mouth, teeth nicking the muscle causing blood to flavor your kisses.

Moaning hungrily, Leon gets rougher, mouth pressing against yours so tightly your teeth ache. A high keening cry slips out between the bruising press of Leon’s lips against yours. Pulling away, he growls and drags his mouth to your neck, lathing his tongue against the multitude of wounds he left earlier.

“So tight around me, are you getting close, little love?” He chuckles and teases your neck with his teeth making you keen and squirm against him.

“Yes, please, ‘m close,” you moan, legs coming up to wrap tightly around his waist, “w’nna cum, wanna feel you inside me.”

Leon hums and swivels his hips, rutting his cock into your cunt without pulling out until you’re clawing at his back with short choked off whines. He grinds against your clit until your eyes roll back into your head.

His teeth sink into your neck one last time, pushing you over the edge for the second time as your orgasm crashes through your body. Crying out, your arms and legs lock around Leon’s body, head thrown back as your cunt clenches around his dick.

“So lovely,” he pulls back, licking the blood away from your neck, “my perfect bride.”

He rabbits his hips into your squelching cunt until finally stilling, cock buried balls deep inside your spasming pussy as you milk his throbbing dick. Your pussy walls flutter and clamp down around him as he spills hot and sticky inside your slick heat.

“Beautiful,” he kisses your earlobe with a sigh, cock kicking inside your pussy as he finishes painting your walls white.

Endorphins make you dizzy and bubbly, smiling up at Leon’s blood stained face as he gazes lovingly down at you.

“My husband,” you murmur, lovesick and sweet, hands coming up to caress his face and he kisses each of your palms.

“All yours,” he promises seriously, “there is a reason why all things are as they are.”

You laugh and smooth a thumb under his eye, “You’re so cute.”

He snorts a laugh, delighting you immensely, and settles down into the messy sheets before pulling you into his chest.

With a soft kiss placed atop his heart, you snuggle into his body until he wraps his arms around you. The soft rise and fall of his chest lulls you to sleep.

Talking to Lara the next day is surprisingly easy. You have the feeling Leon used some weird vampire energy on her since she seemed unusually chill about it. Promising you that she’ll keep in touch once she heads back home, you spend the few short hours she has left together before she leaves early for the airport.

It’s sad to see her go, but with Leon’s steady presence next to you filling your senses with that wonderful smell of cloves and cedar, you have zero regret in staying.

#lipglossanon #lipglossmasterlist #12 days of smutmas #smutmas 2023 #ao3rex #vampire leon kennedy #vampire!leon kennedy #vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader #vampire!leon kennedy smut #vampire!leon kennedy x fem!reader smut #vampire!leon s kennedy #vampire!leon s kennedy x fem!reader #vampire!leon s kennedy smut #vampire!leon s kennedy x fem!reader smut #au

126 notes · View notes

prythianpages · 8 months

Text

ACOSM | The Night she met Azriel

azriel x rhysand's sister (oc)

warnings: fluff/angst

A/N: this is an imagine among my collection of imagines that follow Rhysand's sister, Valeria. while I'm still working on it, you can find the masterlist for it here. The song I pictured Valeria playing was Snowfall by Oneheart x Reidenshi. Also, I think Azriel is older than Rhys and Cass but for the sake of this fic, they are all the same age. They're all young kids in this imagine.

“Come on now, dear. It’s much too cold outside to stay out here.” Lady Yvaine said to the young boy behind her. She placed a gentle hand onto his shoulder and offered the boy a smile as she ushered him inside her house, making a note to buy him a proper coat for this bitter winter first thing tomorrow morning.

“Make yourself at home. I was just finishing up dinner before you arrived.” Lady Yvaine gave him a soft pat on the shoulder before disappearing down the hallway.

The boy stood in the foyer for a moment.

A beautiful sound –one he’d never heard before, resonated from somewhere in the house. The sound drew his curiosity in and he found himself stepping forward into what appeared to be the living room. His steps were slow and quiet, afraid that his intrusion would waver the music. His shadows were pressed against his back–some hiding behind his wings and others curiously peeking over his shoulders. Beautiful, they whispered into his ears.

That’s when he saw her.

The girl in the dark blue dress who was one with the music. Her back was straight but wings relaxed, eyes closed and legs crossed as they dangled over her seat. Her fingers glided easily over the keys of the grand piano before her, bringing each note to life with such care and tenderness.He remained silent, watching the scene before him in awe.

A sense of tranquil beauty and wistful nostalgia filled the room. The song was a perfect embodiment of the serenity and purity of the snow falling outside. It painted a picture of a peaceful winter landscape– a deep contrast to the dark and harsh camp outside.

When the song came to a gradual end, the girl finally opened her eyes. Her body grew still for a brief moment and the shadows wrapped around his shoulders tensed in nervous excitement. She could sense him.

And then the girl was looking at him with blue eyes so deep they were violet. Breathtakingly beautiful. A quick sudden widening of her eyes occurred and he silently ordered his curious shadows to stay put, worry and fear washing over him. She was frightened–

He didn’t get to finish his thoughts as his shadows swarmed over to her, defiant against his orders and she giggled. He watched with pure shock etched onto his face as his shadows caressed her arms, eliciting another giggle. His shadows had never rushed toward someone else like this before.

And then the girl was smiling. At him.

“You must be the Shadowsinger.” She said.

“The Shadowsinger has a name, dear.” Lady Yvaine’s voice corrected the girl from the kitchen. “Azriel.”

“Azriel.” The girl repeated.

Azriel did not think he could hear anything prettier than the song she just played but at the sound of his name coming from her lips, he was proven wrong again.

Everything happened in a blur next. One moment he was standing alone at the entrance of the living room and the next, she was right in front of him with a wide smile. Her hand found his and he found himself holding his breath. Her hand was soft and gentle. His hand was rough and harsh, permanently scarred by the cruelty of his own brothers. He worried as he held his breath if she would find his hands repulsive as most people did. But she paid no mind to it, happily dragging him toward her piano.

It was only once they were seated that he allowed himself to breathe again.

Friend, his shadows whispered in the same excitement as before as they returned to him.

Distracted by his shadows, he hadn’t realized she’d been staring at him the whole time, even as she began to play another song. A more joyful tune this time–one he recognized instantly as it was a popular tune of the Night Court. His gaze met her expectant one. His eyebrows knitted together. Why was she staring at him like that?

“Why aren’t you singing?” The girl asked.

Azriel blinked back at her. “I don’t sing.”

Now, it was her turn for her eyebrows to knit in confusion. “But you’re a shadowsinger.”

Laughter was quick to follow the awkward silence.

As he heard footsteps, Azriel looked up toward the stairs of the house. Two young boys, similar in age to him, ran down the steps. They both had dark hair, sun kissed skin and wings like his but their similarities ended there. One had short and neatly combed hair with eyes similar to the girl beside Azriel. The other had longer hair–barely past his chin–and it was messier than the boy’s in front of him. His eyes were also darker.

“By the Cauldron, Valeria!” The boy with similar eyes to the girl chuckled. They must be related, he thought. “Just because he is a shadowsinger doesn’t mean he sings.”

Valeria, Azriel repeated to himself in his head. What a pretty name.

Valeria sent the boy a vulgar gesture as she stood from her seat beside Azriel. Heat rose up to her cheeks as she turned to him again. “Perhaps, it’s your shadows that sing?”

Azriel couldn’t bring himself to reply. He did not want to lie to her but he also did not want to disappoint her. Sensing this, one of his shadows flew to one of the keys of the piano and pressed it randomly. Valeria’s face blushed deeper at the realization while the other two boys erupted into laughter.

“I’m sorry.” Azriel said.

“Don’t apologize for my sister’s stupidity.” The boy said in a playful warning tone. “You’ll quickly grow tired of it as unfortunately, she is always this embarrassing.”

“No, I must apologize.” Valeria said as she glared daggers at her brother. “Because my dear brother here is infuriating and you’ll quickly grow annoyed by the sight of him. His head is so big because it’s full of shi–”

“Children!” Lady Yvaine yelled at them. Her voice sounded closer this time. So that was their mother, Azriel confirmed to himself.

“Bed-wetter.”

Valeria gasped, sparing Azriel and the boy beside her brother a mortified look. He had promised not to tell anyone. “It was only one time! You–you, lint-licker!”

Azriel watched with wide eyes as the siblings continued to throw insults at each other, the distance decreasing between them with each one. The other boy came to stand next to Azriel and turned to him with an amused grin. “Don’t worry. The best part is yet to come.”

“I’m Cassian by the way,” the boy finally introduced himself.

“The best part?” Azriel couldn’t help but repeat in disbelief as he recalled the times he and his brothers would fight. Nothing good would come out of this…

Instead of answering Azriel, Cassian pointed toward the doorway that led to the kitchen and began to countdown. “3..2..1…”

“That is enough, you two!” A voice, Lady Yvaine’s, exclaimed in anger as she finally appeared with a wooden spoon in her hand. “Bonding time!”

The siblings let out a sound of protest.

“Now.”

Azriel watched as fear flashed in both of the sibling’s eyes at their mother’s tone. Without further protest, the two sat themselves on the floor, across from each other with their knees touching. Cassian seated himself on the piano bench next to Azriel, adjusting himself so their wings wouldn’t be touching.

“Rhysand,” their mother spoke. “You may begin.”

Rhysand let out a huff. He reluctantly reached out to grab for his sister’s hand. “Your eyes are pretty.”

Valeria rolled her “pretty” eyes. They were identical to Rhysand’s in shape but differed slightly in color. Valeria’s eyes were a deeper violet, appearing more purple than blue. Judging by the flicker of amusement that flashed within his violet orbs, she knew he was merely complimenting himself.

“I guess your hair is nice...today.”

Lady Yvaine shot them both a glare and if looks could kill, Valeria and Rhysand might’ve found themselves six feet under.

Valeria sighed. “While your head is big, I do not think it’s full of shit.”

Cassian snorted and Lady Yvaine winced at the curse word.

“I’m sure it’s filled with the burden of being the firstborn.” Valeria continued. “I know it’s not easy, which is why I admire your strength and perseverance. No matter how many times you get your as--butt kicked."

“Thank you, my dear sister.” Rhysand replied with a smile. Although there was a certain wittiness and mischief to her words, he recognized there was also truth and sincerity in them. A fine line Valeria walked. So he decided to continue in the sly banter to match his sister’s level, not daring to cross the line either–just enough as to not upset their mother further but also enough to leave her satisfied.

“I’m afraid I misspoke earlier.” Rhysand apologized. “You’re not embarrassing–at least not always. I do find myself admiring your curiosity. You’re really brave.”

Valeria’s lips curved upwards to mirror her brother’s smile. They turned to their mother, who gave them an approving nod after some moments of hesitance and contemplation. Exchanging a brief hug, the two got up to their feet.

Lady Yvaine chose to ignore Cassian’s protest of letting them get off the hook so easily. She was already embarrassed at the scene they caused in front of their guest.

“Alright, now before we have dinner, I want to formally introduce our new guest.” Lady Yvaine announced as she walked over to the piano bench. Her hands rested upon Azriel’s shoulders. “This is Azriel. His mother is a close friend of mine. She’s unable to be here at the moment so he will be staying with us for as long as he needs to.”

“Welcome, Azriel.” Rhysand said with a nod of his head.

“I hope we didn’t frighten you.” Valeria said with a timid smile, her shoulder bumping into Rhysand, who returned the gesture, with a gentle smile of his own.

“Come along now, children. It’s time for dinner.”

Cassian was the first to follow, falling into step with Lady Yvaine, eager to find what was for dinner tonight. Azriel watched in silence as Lady Yvaine patted Cassian’s head, chiding him over his messy, tangled hair. He groaned in protest, claiming that he had in fact brushed his hair this morning.

Rhysand and Valeria fell into step behind them, still shoving each other lightly and mumbling things to each other. Their laughter echoed the joy of their restored sibling bond, their playful interactions a testament to their resilience. The ability to forgive and let go and the profound understanding that no matter what, their bond would always remain unbreakable.

Something that Azriel didn’t have. It struck something in him, bringing back to surface a familiar ache. An ache residing so deep within the core of his being. It was an emptiness that yearned to be filled. The same emptiness that provided a constant reminder of the absence of love and support in his life. He told himself he would be okay, that the emptiness was a cruel friend of his.

But as he found himself captivated by Valeria’s laughter, he couldn’t help but play out what happened moments ago in his head again. From Valeria’s instant kindness, the way her eyes lit up at his presence, Lady Yvaine’s warmth and generosity, Cassian and Rhysand welcoming him to the way they had all accepted his shadows with no fear of them.

Rhysand looked back to Azriel, pulling him out of his thoughts with a knowing smile as he gestured for Azriel to follow them to the dining table.

There was the slightest curve to Azriel’s lips as he followed them. The first time he dared to smile in months–years, even. The ache still lingered deep in his chest but the emptiness was threatened. While there was still a tinge of sadness in his heart, there was now a shimmer of hope.

Family? His shadows dared to whisper to him.

#azriel shadowsinger #azriel imagine #azriel x reader #azriel x oc #rhysand's sister #rhysand imagine #acotar imagine

193 notes · View notes

rowniebow · 10 months

Text

the gift | newt scamander x male!reader

summary: bits of a love that began at hogwarts

pairings: newt scamander x male!reader

cw: fluff

word count: 1.7k+

an: this was supposed to go in a long, long, fic but im rewriting it so take my shlop of a rewritten prologue

masterlist

⭒

december 1912

a large pine tree protected you from the harsh winter, leaving your seats dry as could be. layers upon layers of chilled colorless cotton covered the grass before you two.

you sat next to a boy that had the stars written in his skin. he hunched over a family of mice: two small mice and a larger one.

you hid together, running away from the world as always.

you watched your friend. your knees curled into your chest and your eyelids hung over your tired eyes. the cold hammered the urge to cough against your ribs but you refused.

your friend's cold fingers were the only thing peaking out of his school robes that engulfed him. he used his trembling bones to scoot the apple slices he had brought towards the family, silently encouraging the tiny nibbles.

your eyes drifted to the white landscape surrounding you. you sighed, and brought yourself to your feet. the brown sweater that covered your school clothes hardly did enough to keep you warm, but you disregarded that.

the crystals crunched under your feet as you made your way through frozen field. snow slowly fell from the clouds. they mixed with the color of your hair. a smile painted your lips dry in the stabbing cold as you twirled, eventually falling in the soft bed of ice.

the boy you had abandoned under the tree with the mice and stars had been watching you dance under the clouded day. he gnawed on his lip before standing and making his way over to you.

the mice ran off, carrying a single apple slice with them.

he followed the footsteps that you left in the sea of white. once he arrived, he came to find you smiling up at him as you rubbed your hands and legs over the snow.

"what are you doing?" the lighter haired boy nearly whispered, not wanting to completely disturb the silence of the loud world.

"i'm making a snow angel," you continued smiling from the ground.

"a what?"

"a snow angel! do wizards not have that?"

the only response you received was a furrowed brow of confusion.

"come on," you dragged the lighter haired boy down next to you.

a chilled huff escaped the fallen's lips. the visible air exploded into the clouds.

"now, it's really quite simple. you just spread your arms - like this! then you move them up and down,"

your friend participated.

"then, you move your legs out real wide and move them side to side,"

he participated once more.

"than you've done it! a snow angel!"

the starry skinned boy furrowed his eyebrows in focus. he bite his lip and moved his arms once, then legs once, then arms once more, then legs again.

"can you-" you sat up, fighting the urge to laugh at your friend. "is it difficult to do both?"

the lighter haired boy only nodded, still trying his best to participate in the new activity.

"that's alright, it's enough, anyway. come on, step up!" you ushered. you stood together, side by side, looking down at your angels that laid so close they nearly held each other.

"and ta-da! you have a wonderful little angel that you've made." your grin was stupidly big.

a smile pulled at the corner of the starry boy's lips as well.

⭒⭒

january 1913

you made a beeline for your destination during lunch one winters day. christmas and new years had gone and passed. now, the most important day to you was coming up: your starry skinned friend's birthday.

you pushed the heavy doors to the transfiguration classroom open with ease, but hastily shut them soon after. the professor of the class quietly sat at his desk, quill in hand hovering over a parchment filled with notes.

"ah yes," the older man grumbled. "please do come in." the sarcasm weaved it's way through every syllable but you refused to acknowledge it.

"professor, please, this is no time for jokes."

the older gentleman sighed, placing his quill down gently on the desk. ink dripped quietly off of the sharp tip. "what is it?" despite his appeared annoyance, the professor uttered your name with expectance.

"so," you began pacing in front of the professors desk as you spoke. "as you know, a peer's birthday is coming up rather soon."

the professor sighed once more, but an amused smile played at the lips between his thick beard.

"well, i've finally come up with the perfect gift after all this time!"

"go on then,"

"i want to give him a memory."

"that's - alright, how are you going to do that?" the professor suppressed his laughter at the thought of his student, who has never been the most studious, attempting something as complex as any spell that has to do with a memory, or even enchantment.

"that's a good question, now, isn't it?"

"are you going to give him a pendant or something?"

"oh, now that's smart!"

the professor rolled his eyes at your lack of thorough thought. "you know, that's very advanced magic."

"i'm well aware. but, that's where my helpful, caring professor can come in and teach me!" you flashed a large, pleading smile at the older man who only sighed in response.

he eyed you up and down, "are you sure you want to do that? after everything-," the professor began to voice his worries over you: a student that he has taken under his wing to a personal level.

the smile on your face fell rather quickly at the words. "it's for newt, i can get over myself for him." your immediate tone change had the professor internally scolding himself. "will you help me or not? i can always go ask-,"

"no, i'll help you. if you're going to learn it you might as well learn it from someone who actually knows what they're doing." the professor stood with a grunt, mentally preparing for the hours of after school lessons he was committing to.

"great! that's lovely, professor, thank you so much!" you practically shook with excitement, running out of the door in a hurry before the man could take back his promises.

⭒⭒⭒

february 24, 1913

you two curled up together on the top bed of your shared bunk under a blanket: your bed.

candles littered their desks, causing the room outside of your blanket haven to glow a warm orange.

pools of wax surrounded the candles on your desk. the warm wax leaked onto the many papers of homework that you would later see and simply roll your eyes over.

newt, however, kept his candles in their holders or settled in small bowls. the wax dripped down and collected neatly all together, far from any papers or books.

under the blanket, newt held his wand similar to a quill. instead of ink, light dripped out. the light washed over the page and splashed onto your giggling faces.

the soft chiming of a clock sliced through the quiet laughter, immediately sparking your memory. you let out a soft, but extremely excited, "oh!"

you hurried from under the covers, newt slowly following after you.

you dug through the pockets of your school robes hanging over a chair muttering and cursing to yourself about where "it" could possibly have gone. a small breath of relief escaped the passages of your nose as you felt the tiny felt box in the midst of your pockets filled with nonsense.

you turned around shoving a small box into newt's hands. "happy birthday," you whispered. your eyes struggled to look anywhere but the single stripe on his sleep shirt.

a gentle smile played over your lips, though. one that enchanted newt and kept him staring for longer than he needed to. "y-you really didn't need to," he stuttered, finally taking the box from your hands.

"i wanted to." despite your appearance, your heart bounced against your ribs as loud as a it physically could.

newt hands shook lightly as opened the cream box with a gold ribbon around it to reveal a metal pendant that looked to have been poorly bent in the shape of a heart. it hung off of a small chain to make a necklace.

"what's this?" he tugged the necklace out of the box, inspecting the hand made heart.

"here," your voice shook as you gently took the necklace into your hands, pulling the heart in half to reveal the projected memory you had spent weeks working with your professor to get in to the pendant (that you also made and bent all by yourself. you were very proud of the funky heart).

"you've enchanted it," newt whispered under his breath, bewildered at the sight.

he watched the memory play out before him: one that had been pushed to the back of his mind but was revitalized as soon as he saw the familiar sight.

it was the your first trip to hogsmeade together. the day newt showed you everything and anything there was to show about the enchanting town he had been raised to know. the town itself didn't affect him much at all anymore, but he knew you'd find it absolutely stunning. he was so excited to introduce you to the magical world when you two were little.

you sipped on your butterbeers together. you loved the overly sweet drink, and newt made a face at the sugar that bit at his teeth. newt offered his drink to you with a frown at the taste. one that you laughed at, eventually pulling a laugh out from newt.

"did you do it?" newt's voice could hardly be heard. the fear of disturbing the silence ached within him.

"hm?" you hummed equally as quiet.

"did you learn the spell?"

"'course i did." you replied as if it were nothing, but newt was well aware of how it was a big something. "is it-, do you like it?" your whisper was shockingly shy and insecure. a rare vulnerability that newt understood he was privileged to hear.

"yes! i-i love it," newt's hasty response cut through the comforting silence between you two. but you only smiled.

"here, let me put it on,"

newt stood still while you raised yourself on your toes to reach around the tall boy's shoulders to his neck. newt, very aware of the proximity between the two of you, looked down at the quickly dying candles that were providing the only light in the room.

you leaned back down onto your heels, "there." you played with the pendant over his chest between your fingers, finally letting it fall against his clothes.

"t-thank you," newt stuttered your name, struggling to get anything more than a mutter our.

you smiled.

and the candles finally went out.

218 notes · View notes

darkbluekies · 1 year

Note

A oneshot let's see if I do this right, can you do a oneshot of Hedwig meeting the reader? As in the start of it all I wanna see a little mini story of all that

I've got my eye on you

female!yandere OC x reader

Summary: A new students catches the eye of the popular, rich girl and she finds herself falling for you harder than she's ever done before. Hedwig comes up with a plan to lull you in and make sure you'll be hers only.

Warnings: none really, I think, maybe manipulation? Hedwig changes in front of reader (back towards them) but still-

Word count: 2.1k

Senior year. Only one more year until she’s free and gets out of here. She’ll go to Paris. Or Milan. Maybe travel around the world?

Hedwig steps into the classroom and greets her friends. Her father has forced her to go to a normal school to understand the normal people. They’re nice, but she feels like they’re not understanding her in the way her rich friends understand her. Hedwig can’t talk about her life in the same way without getting jealous looks. But she’s come to terms with it now. Her wealth isn’t only negative, she's gotten quite popular by it. If you don’t want her, you want to be her.

Everything is normal … until she steps her foot into the art classroom for the first time this semester. Someone is sitting in the very spot she normally sits. Someone she’s never seen before.

“Excuse me”, she says.

The person — who happens to be you — looks up.

“Yeah?” you ask quietly.

“This is my desk”, she says.

“Oh, I’m sorry … I didn’t know …”

You’re about to take your stuff and leave, but she stops you.

“No, no, no”, she says. “It’s okay. You can stay. There are two chairs, aren’t there? I’ll sit beside you.”

“I’ll remember it for the next time.”

“Thank you.”

Hedwig's friend has to sit somewhere else. The friend gives you a nasty look before sitting down in the front of the class.

You start working on your new projects. Hedwig glances over at your self portrait and finds herself smiling.

“Pretty”, she says.

“Oh, thank you”, you say quietly without looking at her.

“I don’t know what I should do. I can’t come up with something.” She drops her pencil down on the table. “My brain isn’t working.”

You look up from your portrait and meet her hazel eyes.

��Why don’t you paint a scenery?” you ask. “That always works.”

Hedwig smiles. “What kind of scenery should I paint?

You think. “Maybe … a winter landscape? You won’t have to use too many colors and details.”

“Thank you.” She blushes. “What’s your name, by the way? I haven’t seen you before.”

“Y/N, I’m new.”

“Really? No wonder I didn’t know who you were. I’m so sorry for not noticing you earlier.”

She can’t understand how she hasn’t. You’re gorgeous! How has she not noticed you until today? Now that she has, she can’t tear her eyes off of you.

“It’s okay”, you whisper, suddenly embarrassed. “I was actually trying my best not to be noticed.”

“Why?”

You shrug and look away. Hedwig can feel her entire body heat up. She looks down at your hand holding the pen and wants nothing more than to take it in hers.

“You’re good at drawing”, she says when she realizes that she’s been staring at your hand for a few minutes. Playing it off as staring at your drawing. “It really looks like you.”

“Thank you.”

“Could you help me with mine?”

You nod and turn to her. Hedwig’s holding her pen and you take it out of her hands in a gentle manner that makes her heart flip. Your fingers brush against her hand and it sends electric shocks all throughout her body. She gulps and watches how you help her sketch out an outline of a few mountains before turning back to your own drawing. All nerves in her body are screaming at her to make you touch her again. She can’t understand why she’s suddenly feeling like this, but she knows that she needs more.

“I-I’m Hedwig by the way”, she says quickly, desperate to pick up the conversation again.

“I know”, you answer quietly. “Everyone talks about you.”

“Oh.” Hedwig’s suddenly terrified of what you’ve heard about her, maybe people’s gossip has made you dislike her already? She feels a weird longing for you to like her, to give her approval. “What are they saying?”

“They talk about you like you’re a celebrity. They’re talking about your parents and how they think your life is. I’m not really sure, I haven’t heard much.”

“Don’t listen. People are always talking.”

You nod and the situation grows silent again. Hedwig bites her lip.

“Could you help me again?” she asks. “I don’t know how to do this.”

You give out a small sigh and turn to her again. Unlike last time, you place your hand over hers, guiding her hand and the pen. Hedwig can swear that her heart stops at the feeling of your soft hand against hers. She feels dizzy.

WHen it’s lunch time, Hedwig asks if you want to eat with her. You nod shyly. You’ve never sat with the popular kids before and you don’t know any of these kids. Only Hedwig and you only met her an hour ago. To your surprise, she barely acknowledges her friends. Her full attention is on you, asking you where you’re from, what made you move here, how your family life looks like, what your interests are, what makes you scared and happy and what kind of person you are. Not a single time during lunch does she look away from your face. She has a sparkling hint in her eyes and a smile on her perfect face.

The very next day, Hedwig looks up from her desk when you enter the classroom. She’s sitting alone today.

“Y/N, do you want to sit with me?” she asks and removes her bag from the chair beside her. “I saved a seat for you.”

Without answering, you sit down beside her. She’s quick to turn to you and ask you about your morning.

“Y/N, would you like to come over to my house after school and study?” she asks. “We have a test coming up in two weeks and … I need a study buddy.”

You nod carefully. A bit of help on geometry wouldn’t hurt. And that’s how you come home to Hedwig’s gigantic villa for the first time. It looks more like a smaller mansion than a regular house. A white — almost yellow — Georgian house with lots of details. The entrance to the driveway is a pair of giant black gates to keep unwanted people from coming in. She has a chauffeur who drives her to and from school each day and he greets you nicely, adding honorifics.

“My parents aren’t home”, Hedwig says over her shoulder as you enter the big hall.

A maid welcomes Hedwig home and offers to take your bag, but you shake your head, too intimidated by the sheer size of Hedwig’s house to be able to think clearly.

You follow Hedwig upstairs, bag clutched in your hands.

“This is scaring me a bit …”, you whisper.

“What?” she asks in worry.

“All of this … it’s a bit intimidating.”

Hedwig smiles reassuringly. “Don’t be scared. It’s not a museum, it’s a home.”

Hopefully it’s your home too, but Hedwig doesn’t say that.

“Are you hungry?” she asks and opens the door to her room.

Even her room looks like money.

“A bit” you admit.”

“Yeah, I noticed that you didn’t eat the school lunch”, Hedwig smiles and. “I don’t blame you. I’ll go tell the chef to prepare something for you, okay? He makes fantastic food.”

“You have a chef?”

“Yeah! You’ll love his food, I promise. He makes the best grilled cheese sandwiches you’ll ever have. I’ll go tell him to make some for you.”

Before you can stop her, she’s already darted out the door. You decide to pass the time by looking around her white room. You find pictures of her and alleged friends on cruises and yachts, her in pools and in the mountains plastered on the wall. This girl seems to have been everywhere.

“I’m back!” Hedwig smiles and creeps up beside you. “What are you looking at?”

“Just your pictures”, you answer. “Are these your friends?”

“Yeah … they are. I don’t meet them as much because my father wants me to be in a public school with all the other children of our city. They go to a private school together. But I spend a lot of my vacations with them. We’ve been all around the world.”

“I can tell.”

“Do you like to travel?”

“Who doesn’t? I like to explore new places, but it costs a lot to go somewhere.”

“What’s your favorite place to visit?”

You shrug. “I haven’t been to so many places. What’s yours?”

“I really like Paris. It’s a beautiful city and they have such tasty food.” She turns around. “Should we study a little?”

You nod. You sit down at her desk and bring out your calculators.

A knock on the door interrupts you. It's the chef with the grilled cheese sandwiches. Hedwig thanks him and brings the plate over to you. Two perfectly grilled sandwiches are placed on the porcelain. Your mouth waters.

“Bon appetit”, Hedwig smiles. “They’re all yours.”

“Thank you”, you say shyly but you don’t dare to touch them. Somehow you feel guilty.

“Y/N, are you okay?”

“Yes … I just feel weird for making your chef make this for me.”

“It’s his job, don’t worry about it. Eat up now!”

This time, you dare to pick it up and take a bite. Heaven has granted access to your mouth.

“I told you it was good”, Hedwig smiles.

You eat while you study and when you’re finally done, you notice how much time has passed.

“It seems like you’ll have to stay here overnight …”, Hedwig says and the next sentence she says is nothing but a great lie. “The last bus has gone and my driver has finished for the day. Can your parents pick you up?”

You shake your head. They wouldn’t be pleased to drive you at this hour. It only makes Hedwig smile. Perfect.

“You can stay here, my bed is big enough for two”, she says. “Just send a quick message to your parents and tell them that you’ll stay here.”

You sigh and do as she says. Your parents send you a heart back. They’re only happy that you’ve made a friend.

You eat a delicious dinner in the kitchen made by her chef. It hits you that you haven’t seen her parents at all, but you don’t question it. From what you know about her, they’re busy.

When you’re going to bed, Hedwig walks over to her walk-in closet to grab herself a new pair of pajamas for both you and her. One of them being in your size. To your great surprise, she turns her back to you and removes her clothes. You gulp and try to look away in embarrassment.

“S-Shouldn’t you go into the bathroom to change?” you stutter.

“Why?” she asks and turns around. “It’s my room. Besides, if models can change in front of twenty people they don’t know … I can change in front of one person I hold dearly. But if you want to change in the bathroom, it’s down the hall. If you want to take a shower, there’s a white towel for you hanging on the hook.”

It sounds like she has planned this. Because she has.

You do take a shower before you change into her pajamas and return to her room. She’s lying in her bed, scrolling on her phone.

“We have to be up by seven tomorrow”, she says. “Otherwise we’ll be late to school.”

You nod and walk around the queen sized bed. This feels so wrong somehow. You’ve never shared a bed with someone before and especially not a beautiful girl who changed in front of you fifteen minutes ago. Hedwig turns off her phone and lies down with her front facing you. You try to mirror her motions and soon you're both lying down, facing one another.

“Goodnight, sleep well”, she smiles and turns off the light.

Her fluffy sheets and soft mattress lull you into a deep slumber. Hedwig, however, can’t seem to be able to close her eyes. She’s staring at your features, wondering how she got so lucky to get you here. Her plan worked! She’s a genius! Soon, you’ll agree to be hers and these kinds of nights will be a recurring thing. Soon, she’ll dare to wrap her arms around you as you go to sleep. She’ll be able to kiss you and give you everything you want.

Oh, Hedwig can’t wait until you’re fully hers. Then, no one will be able to take you from her, because what Hedwig wants, Hedwig gets … and so has it always been. The ones that cross her always get shoved aside one way or another.

“You’re mine, my wonderful little Y/N”, she whispers and lets her fingertips brush over your cheek. “I’ll treat you so well, I promise. I’ll make sure you’re safe and happy. My beautiful Y/N.”

#yandere #yandere drabbles #yandere imagines #yandere x reader #yandere x you #yandere fics #yandere stories #yandere ocs #yandere oc x you #yandere oc x reader #yandere female #clingy yandere #possesive yandere #yancore #soft yandere

591 notes · View notes

risuola · 4 months

Text

REGULAR PEOPLE — F. READER x GETO SUGURU

He was a part of you, always will be, stained permanently with fragment of your heart and love.

cw: angst, yearning, mentions of crime — 2,1k words

a/n: so, I've seen a fanart some time ago, showing Satoru sleeping soundly at Suguru's temple after the incident and since that time I couldn't shake off the idea of his closest friends visiting him even after he left, so there it is. ❥

There’s something endearing about the late evenings in winter and this one held an unusually warm embrace, despite the low temperature and the patterns your breath painted in the crisp air with every breath you took. Snowflakes still twirled about, but lost their grip, falling slower and more freely with each passing turn. The soft sound of crunch filled in your exposed ears as you slowly moved through the snow-covered walkways, careful not to slip. Sometimes you wondered, how young people were running over the icy paths with ease whilst you and your winter boots barely carried you on the frozen alleys, but that, you decided, will forever remain a mystery.

The sun had gone down few hours ago, the night was still young, but the moon was the brightest it’s been in weeks, casting a gentle glow over the barren streets of Tokyo. This was a special night and though slightly more chilly than usual, you couldn’t bring yourself to be bothered by the sharp, stinging pain in the tips of your ears and fingers. It was temporary, you knew that inside, and life had forced you to endure much worse than the slight dip in temperature. You pushed through the thick layer of crisp air and slowly, a faint scent of something sweet filled in your nostrils.

It was soothing, in a way, to breathe in the subtle scent of hot chocolate that you knew oh so well, because only one person you got to meet in your life was able to concoct such a mixture of flavors that you’d recognize it at the end of the world and further. The note of cocoa, though being nothing but a ghost carried by the languid winds, somehow brought warm into your otherwise frozen bones, making the tedious trip more bearable and the way too thin layer of clothes you wore somehow more protective. Maybe, you thought, the high city architecture got you used to mellowed temperatures and each time you get yourself surprised how drastically different the air feels outside the tall built of Tokyo. The concrete jungle blocking the icy whiffs with ease and once you stepped out of it, you realized once again, how different it feels with just trees and open space around you.

You pushed through the snow, pulled in and tempted by the sweet promise of chocolate and vanilla, with thoughts already deep within what’s to come, you allowed your eyes to take in the view that slowly unraveled before you. The temple, so beautiful, with all the grace stood quietly in the midst of the winter landscape, surrounded by tall, now completely bare trees, hugged by the thick cottony layer of snow. The building, made entirely out of wood suited the picture, with its traditional architecture blending effortlessly with the surrounding icy winds and frozen nature. Each time you saw it, you couldn’t help but admire the intricate and beautiful carvings of dragons and tigers, the detailed branches of cherry blossoms and all of the patterns that decades ago someone sculpted out by hand.

It stood proudly, the temple inviting with it’s warm lights coming from inside. The safe haven from the harsh winter weather and for you, a place bearing a soothing sense of serenity and peace, despite all of the logical reasons.

“There you are,” a voice, so honey-like and familiar, dressed in a gentle smile and soft eyes made you forget about the laboring trip you just subjected yourself to. “I’m sure you’re freezing, come inside.”

You smiled and quickly pushed off the outerwear, the snow-covered boots and jacket now rested near the doors as you followed the tall figure onto the floor above the entrance. The cozy warmth of the interiors slowly seeped into your body, along with the well-known presence of a man before you.

“Alone this time?” He asked while offering you a seat in the conjoined dining and living area. You settled your weight gently onto the plush cushions of the sofa, bathing yourself in the golden haze of the fireplace in front of it. You could feel how the heat slowly thawed out your limbs and relaxed your muscles from the strain of walking in the freezing cold, soothing you from head to toe and you knew, deep down, it was the flames that enveloped you in such comfortable aura, but you’d swear that it was your friend that made it so much more pleasant.

“Satoru couldn’t make it,” you replied finally, inhaling the thick, sweet scent of chocolate that soon enough landed in your hands. The cup, dark green in color, was filled in nearly to the brim with the hot liquid of gods, the special recipe the man mastered years and years ago. The perfect measurement of cocoa and fresh vanilla beans, spiced up with some magic only he knew. Divine concoction of flavors and perfect balance between the thick and thin consistency; a drink sweet and yet sophisticated.

“That’s a shame,” he smiled. His eyes were taking you in, admiring in silence the way your features were illuminated by the dim, golden hues, how the lights and shadows danced on top of your skin. He found your flushed from cold cheeks adorable and though he wasn’t cold at all before you visited his temple, now he felt the warmth of familiarity spreading throughout his body.

“A shame indeed,” you nodded, chuckling with softness as you allowed your lips to dip in the hot treat. The first taste that spread out over your tongue and coated your throat with thick layer of goodness made you moan in pleasure. A sound quiet and gentle, carried by your breath but clear enough to express the gratitude you felt. “How have you been, Suguru?”

It’s been seven years since everything happened – the horrible spiral of events that eventually led to one of your best friends to go down the path of a wanted criminal. You didn’t notice the way he got consumed by thoughts and depression, you didn’t see how the light inside of him slowly but surely was burning out and for that, you think, you’ll never stop blaming yourself. And now, each time you reminiscent his eyes, the sadness that crept up his golden irises and the subtle changes in his voice that, as you think of them in perspective, were way too obvious to miss, it makes it hard to keep going. But you do. After everything that took place, you wished to keep him and yet, you weren’t ready to give up of Satoru. They both, so close to your heart, were equally important and that day, the one that now you recall as beautifully tragic, when your friends clashed in front of the fast-food restaurant parting their ways, you decided to do everything you could to keep them with you.

You knew about murder, you knew it all. It was Yaga who told you and Satoru about the events and you remember vividly how desperately you held your white-haired friend’s hand in order to prevent him from harming himself in anger. You rid yourself from every question that burned your soul. You forced your mind to neglect the concept of Suguru committing a crime and reached out to him not long after the scene, that now you jokingly call the infamous kfc breakup. He was a part of you, always will be, stained permanently with fragment of your heart and love you had for the boys in your life. The array of cherished moments created a thin veil that covered all of his misdeeds, concealing them just enough for you to look past them and enjoy his presence because each time you saw him you knew it might be the last time. Because Suguru Geto had a death sentence and it was a matter of time before the jujutsu higher ups will get fed up with the accumulation of little crimes and sentence him with the on-sight order.

It was, in a sense, meeting the death. You thought about it sometimes, usually during the sleepless nights. It was a weight you carried on top of your shoulders, the heavy ballast of regret and sorrow that you’d wish to have vanished and yet you knew, those feelings will never leave your mind. And sometimes you wondered about all the different what ifs, about everything that you could have done to rewrite the history only to save your friend from the way his days are numbered. It hurt you so deeply, every time you looked into his eyes, the beautiful golden irises that now seemed at peace with everything that happened.

“I’ve been doing fine,” Geto replied, sipping his own green tea – the gentle hint of peach noticeable and so undeniably him – and following carefully every movement you made, cementing the image into his mind because if there was anything he wished to cherish, it was a picture of you.

You sat there comfortably, listening to the calming melody of his voice as he was briefing through the last few weeks you couldn’t see him. Humming from time to time, you took your time to enjoy the hot chocolate while he talked about the girls he was raising. The twins he saved that one day in past, the girls that then were just barely five now were thriving teenagers and you always admired the way he managed to raise them despite his own moral struggles and young age. You met Mimiko and Nanako not long after he left and you’d lie if you said you didn’t love them from the very first sight.

And then, he touched on the people he was surrounding himself with, his family of sorcerers that he cared for deeply. Not a word in his speech was regarding his plans and wrongdoings and that’s how it looked for years now. You knew what he was on and about, you’ve got reports from every odd event that was taking place around Japan and you knew perfectly which of them to connect to your friend, but that’s not something you wished to talk about. When meeting him, you flowed as if the universe was different, oblivious, kind. Each time you and Satoru visit his temple, not one of you mentions the elephant that despite everything, always stands in the corner of the room. But it was fine, you believed. As long as you had him, all of it was fine.

Once he finished, you took your turn in talking, catching up with everything that happened to you and Gojo lately. The pride you have in your students, the new café that opened near your apartment and the absurd amount of training you were required to go through in order to meet the expectations of the higher ups, despite you being semi-special grade. They’ll never be satisfied with you, you assumed.

“And Satoru? How’s he doing?” The man questioned, soon after you concluded your story.

“He’s fine too. Busy, as always,” you replied, chuckling at the thought. “You can probably imagine him whining about it.”

“Bet I can,” Suguru joined the laughter, the sound of it brightening the dark night. “Maybe next time he’ll come with you.”

“I’ll make sure of that,” you promised, smiling softly and Geto could have sworn he never saw anything more beautiful.

There was, always, an unspoken feeling that connected the hearts of you and him, a love platonic in its roots but with years and years of yearning, you realized that it always was more than just a deep kind of friendship. Not once you talked about it, it just hung in the air every time you shared the time and you cherished every minute you had with him, hurting inside because you knew it so clearly that there was no way for you to let it all out in this lifetime and universe. And you knew that one day, you’ll see him dead and gone. You knew that one day, he’ll take the part of your heart and leave with it. You wondered, sometimes, if there was a possibility for you to become a collateral damage to whatever he was planning for the future. Would he be able to kill you, out of all people, to reach the goal he wished for?

“What’s on your mind?” He asked; the tone warm and silky, comforting and easing to the knotted thoughts in your head.

“Sometimes I wonder if there is a universe where we could be just regular people in love,” you replied, keeping your gaze on the burning flames in the fireplace. “With no curses, no grades, just plain people. I wonder if in the world like this, you could love me the way I love you.”

“I don’t know,” he said, humming at the thought and he reached his hand to gently brush the top of his pointer finger against your cheek. “I don’t know if there’s another universe where we’re just regular, plain people but I know there’s no world where I wouldn’t love you.”

143 notes · View notes

downbad4fyodor · 6 months

Text

Pairing: Fyodor Dostoevsky x Fem!reader word count: 363 summary: Fyodor takes you to see the Christmas lights around Moscow warnings: none Tag list: @getousrep

Want more Fics for the Holidays?

The frigid embrace of Moscow's winter air wrapped around you and Fyodor as you embarked on an enchanting adventure through the city adorned in the splendor of Christmas lights. Fyodor had orchestrated a surprise evening to immerse you in the spellbinding beauty of Moscow's festive illumination.

Under the silver glow of the moon, the streets draped in a pristine coat of snow whispered tales of winter magic. Fyodor, with his tall and commanding presence, walked by your side, his violet eyes reflecting the soft radiance of the Christmas lights that adorned the city. The night promised a magical journey, and Fyodor's gaze held a mysterious allure that heightened the sense of anticipation.

The first stop on this captivating expedition was none other than the historic Red Square. As you approached, the iconic St. Basil's Cathedral emerged like a majestic ice palace. Its domes, adorned with a breathtaking array of twinkling lights in hues of red, green, and gold, transformed the architectural marvel into a mesmerizing spectacle that rivaled the stars above. Fyodor, his breath visible in the crisp air, squeezed your hand as you both stood in silent awe, taking in the dazzling display that seemed to defy the winter night.

"It's like something out of a fairytale, isn't it?" Fyodor's voice, a low and melodic timbre, resonated with the joy of the season.

You nodded, captivated by the radiance that enveloped the historical landmark. The lights seemed to pirouette in harmony with the delicate snowflakes that floated gently from the night sky, creating an ethereal dance of winter wonder.

Fyodor, his gloved hand still entwined with yours, led you through the snow-covered cobblestones, each step revealing a new tableau of luminous beauty. The avenues of Moscow glittered with a tapestry of lights, like celestial pathways guiding you through the heart of the city's festive spirit. The meticulous arrangement of lights on trees, lampposts, and buildings painted a landscape that seemed plucked from a dream.

The journey continued to Gorky Park, where the frozen lake reflected the brilliance of the lights like a mirror. The towering trees, now adorned with a kaleidoscope of colors, stood as silent witnesses to the festive transformation. Fyodor guided you towards a charming carousel, its lights casting a warm glow against the snowy canvas. Whimsical music and the laughter of children added to the symphony of the holidays.

As you and Fyodor boarded the carousel, the world around you transformed into a mesmerizing kaleidoscope of lights and laughter. The crisp air, laced with the scents of hot cocoa and roasted chestnuts, heightened the sensory experience. Fyodor's eyes met yours, a silent promise of shared joy and the magic that lingered in the moment.

The night unfolded as a captivating exploration of Moscow's neighborhoods, each one vying to outshine the other in a dazzling display of lights. Fyodor, his arm wrapped around you protectively, shared tales of Moscow's Christmas traditions and folklore, infusing the journey with cultural richness.

The grand finale awaited at the historic Bolshoi Theatre. The monumental building, a symbol of artistic excellence, now stood adorned with a cascade of lights that accentuated its architectural grandeur. Fyodor, a mischievous glint in his eyes, led you towards the entrance. As you ascended the grand staircase, the lights dimmed, and the façade of the theatre became a canvas for an enchanting light show.

Colors danced across the intricate details of the building, synchronized with festive melodies that echoed through the night. Fyodor, his expression a mix of satisfaction and delight, watched your reactions with unabashed joy. The lights, now painting the night sky with vibrant strokes, encapsulated the very essence of the season.

As the light show reached its crescendo, Fyodor turned to you with a tender smile. "Merry Christmas, my love," he whispered, his voice a warm embrace in the winter night.

The evening, a symphony of lights and shared moments, etched itself into the tapestry of your memories. Moscow, draped in its festive best, became the canvas for a magical journey orchestrated by Fyodor, your companion in this winter fairytale. The Christmas lights, now etched in your heart, whispered tales of love and enchantment as you and Fyodor embraced the magic of the season in the heart of Moscow's winter wonderland.

#bungou sd #bungou stray dogs #bungo stray dogs manga #bsd anime #bsd x reader #bungo sd #bungo stray dogs x reader #bsd spoilers #bungo stray dogs season 4 #bsd fyodor #fyodor bsd #fyodor dostoyevsky bsd #bungou stray dogs fyodor #fyodor dostoevsky #fyodor x reader

89 notes · View notes

caramel1mochi · 5 months

Text

One Hazy Winter [Iso x F! Reader] [1]

[ Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 ]

Genre: Angst, fluff ‎

TW: Depression and implied suicidal thoughts (I swear it’s not all sad haha) ‎ ‎

Words: 4k ‎

Synopsis: One winter before his disappearance, you told your boyfriend Yu about a question you’ve had for so long; one even he could hardly respond to. It took many more hopeless winters for you to finally have your answer. ‎ ‎

NOTES: 'Tis the season! Ha, I rushed to get this out before Christmas was over. Christmas is still going, right? Happy holidays!! ‎ Anyway, this story is HEAVILY reliant on flashbacks and the past in general, so keep that in mind. Have a good read! ‎ ‎

。+❤ฺ·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ· +❤·。❤ฺ·。+❤ฺ·

Winter, one year ago.

‎

If there was one thing you loathed with every inch of your being, it would be the winter season. It was a season that was associated with only despair and heavily encouraged death. Both physically and mentally. The death of plants, the death of animals, the death of people, just death in general.

And you hated it. You hated the overwhelming feeling of melancholy that would loom over you whenever snow would fall.

Your arms rested on the ice cold metal railing that overlooked a mystifying lake, one that had gotten frozen over the past week. The thick sleeves of your hoodie blocked the freezing temperatures like dutiful guards surrounding a castle. This comfort, however, felt like a miniscule droplet in the ocean of despondency you felt.

A tired sigh escaped you. And like a furious dragon, a vapour of pure white billowed from your lips.

‎

“Disgusting.”

‎

You muttered under your breath whilst you looked at the ice. In the distance, you heard something crack, and it took you only a few seconds to spot where it was on the icy surface of the lake.

‎

“Look on the bright side, at least.”

‎

Yu, your boyfriend, piped up from your right. He rested on the railing just as you did, with his jacket protecting him. But his upright posture and bright purple eyes conveyed something you didn’t: joy.

‎

“Like what?”

‎

“Look around you, observe the snow.”

‎

He pointed to the blankets of snow that surrounded the forest around the bridge, each snowflake collectively gathered to envelop every tree your eyes laid on. Like a mother huddled with her children on a cold night. To him, the landscape looked like a stunning painting, one meticulously slaved over by an artist who desired perfection over all else.

‎

“Isn’t it breathtaking?”

‎

Maybe to him. But to you? All you saw were dead trees, shells of the beautiful bearers of fruit and life they once were. That wasn’t to mention the corpses of animals buried under the feet of snow he was so enamoured by.

You rested your head on your arms in silence.

‎

“It’s winter.”

‎

Two words. Curt, but enough to summarise the maelstrom of thoughts that roamed your mind.

And it’s not like he didn’t know, either. He did, which was why, despite his optimism, he also started dreading this season once you both started dating nearly five winters ago. Yu placed one hand on your shoulder, the wooden planks under him loudly creaking as he stepped closer to you. Then, he wrapped his arm around you and pulled you closer, the warmth from his body counteracting the one from the railings.

‎

“I understand.”

‎

For a moment, that was all he could say.

‎

“But… Y/N, you shouldn’t think about them every single day.”

‎

You shut your eyes and took in a deep, slow breath, allowing the cold air to be warmed on the way to your lungs.

As much as he denied it, and as stiff as his face was, Yu was incredibly expressive. Whenever he’d try to conceal how he felt, his body language simply betrayed him at every turn. He meant well, both of you knew that. Especially you. But Yu wasn’t exactly the best when it came to dealing with things like… this.

‎

“It’s difficult to get over them, Yu. It feels impossible.”

‎

Since Yu’s hands were gloved the whole way here, the slightly cold temperature of it didn’t bother you as much once his fingers intertwined with yours. Add on to the fact your hands were in your pockets, the warmth immediately cooled him down as he began gently outlining the lines on your palm with his thumb.

You lost your parents in one hazy winter. And every one after that would be a depressing reminder of that fact.

‎

“Every winter, I ask myself why I should keep going.”

‎

He paused.

‎

“What’s waiting for us at the end? Some silly award for putting up with this?”

‎

“Don’t say that. There’s more to life than baseless questions like that.”

‎

The white tint of the snow was bright. So bright, it began piercing your eyes, and you were forced to close them for a hint of relief.

‎

“What do you think?”

‎

You flipped the question on him, your words cutting through his benevolence like acid through a rotting cadaver.

Silence settled for a moment. Between it and the blankets of snow that surrounded you, you could hear Yu’s very pulse echo with each passing second. That, and how his lips parted. But for a moment, no words left his mouth, and he stayed quiet.

‎

“I… I don’t know.” He turned away. “I’m sorry. I don’t think about things like this.”

‎

It figures, you thought. Nevertheless, he began outlining the lines on your palm all over again, and the sound of the shuffling in your pocket as he did this started to stick out to you.

A few rapid clicks caught your attention. And once you lifted your head, you noticed a peculiar sight.

A bird had landed on the lake’s icy surface. Though it was a few dozen feet away from you, somehow, It felt as if all the sound waves were channelled in one direction just to reach you, and you could see it with clarity that would rival a telescope. With each step, you heard a loud click. And each time it pecked at the ice under it, you heard a little pick that accompanied it.

You wanted to ask why there was a bird here. Around this time, they’d usually disappear and leave the grey sky more dreary and lifeless than it ever could be. So… why?

You diligently watched it stretch its stunning wings, shades of blue reflecting off of the sunlight and complementing each other. Somehow, it spawned various new shades on its wings. Like ballet dancers, the colours played off each other's movements gracefully.

You lifted a hand and pointed at the bird.

‎

“It looks just like you.”

‎

Yu stopped to get a glance at what you were looking at. Then, he chuckled.

‎

“You think every bird looks like me, Y/N.”

‎

“I...”

‎

Your words were interrupted once the bird’s feathers reached outwards. For a moment, it puffed and formed a fluffy ball of white, blue and black, before it rapidly shook its head and relaxed all over again.

‎

“There. Did you see that?”

‎

“See what?”

‎

“It puffed up.” You met his gaze. “It looked just like you whenever you’d wake up.”

‎

Even on the hottest days of summer, Yu would have at least three blankets wrapped around him whilst he slept. That wasn’t to mention how messy his hair would be whenever you had the pleasure of catching him in this way. Yu grinned, pulling you closer as you both watched the bird for a few seconds.

A few short-lived seconds, until it flew away and disappeared into the clouds, cutting the enjoyable moment short.

But before melancholy would dare set in once more, Yu immediately turned to meet your gaze, his purple eyes glimmering under the bright winter sky. Just like the bird’s wings, the colours mixed with each other in a captivating manner.

‎

“How about we go home and watch a movie? I’ll even make you hot chocolate. What do you say?”

‎

“Movie?”

‎

A moment of silence settled.

But just as Yu thought he failed in his endeavour to cheer you up, all of his doubts evaporate once he saw a smile form. The sensation of such a move, though weak, still felt foreign to your face.

‎

“Can we take the movie out of the equation?”

‎

…

‎

“Definitely.”

‎

Before another word could be uttered, he suddenly pulled you much closer, trapping you in a warm embrace. And you couldn’t help but grin at such an unexpected yet sweet move.

‎

“Yu, we’re in public.”

‎

“You don’t know how much I missed your smile, Y/N.”

‎

“Be reasonable. It couldn’t have been that long.”

‎

You said, your words muffled as he had your face pressed up against the inside of his jacket. Your arms were wrapped around him to allow the heat to pass on over to you.

‎

“It has.” He muttered. “Longer than you think.”

‎

The pleasant fragrance of lemons entered your nostrils. Familiar, especially since it was the only type of musk Yu ever sought after. Other than yours, of course.

‎

❤ฺ·。

Winter, present day.

‎

You hadn’t seen or spoken to Yu once the week after that conversation. He didn’t answer his phone, and, like you, none of his acquaintances knew where he went. Even with the police alerted, he was still legally considered missing.

On your way to work that dreadful morning, you’ve had your eyes stuck on your phone the whole time you walked down that repetitive path. You were calling Yu for the umpteenth time in hopes that he’d miraculously answer. But just as expected, your call was sent to voicemail again.

He was gone.

And you didn’t shed a tear. Not that you didn’t care, quite the contrary, in fact. You lost a ton of people. He was just another added to the list.

With a deep sigh, you pocketed your phone and looked up at the sky, a group of clouds concealing its previously blue colour thanks to the season. White and pale, just like bones.

‎

Your fingers wrapped around the cold golden handle. And with one swift push accompanied by a cheerful ding of the bell above you, you’d entered the café you worked at. The warmth hit you like a slap in the face once you’d fully entered the café. The boring music inside, and not to mention the decor you were borderline sick of seeing every day.

Your boss, Ying, and another one of your co-workers were chatting behind the counter. But your entrance immediately halted the conversation and shifted their attention towards you.

‎

“There you are! I was getting worried.”

‎

“Hi.”

‎

Ying earned a boring greeting from you. Just like every other day. And just as you turned back to the counter, you were suddenly pulled into a tight hug.

‎

“Y/N, how have you been? Here– would you like me to make you something?”

‎

She pulled away and held your shoulders in hopes of catching a change in your expression this time, but there was naught.

Ying, despite being your boss, had been treating you like her daughter for the longest time. And with Yu’s disappearance, her treatment was laced with worry and an overwhelming desire to tend to your needs. But every time, she’d earn the same response accompanied by the same vacant look on your face.

‎

“I’d like to clock in.”

‎

“Would you like to take the day off instead? Take a moment to catch yourself?”

‎

Though you had no circles under your eyes or any other noticeable blotches, she still noted the subtle gaunt look on your face. Pale, lifeless skin, and that wasn’t to mention the dull heaviness in your pitch black irises. A massive contrast to Yu, whose very presence brought life to any location lucky enough to bear his presence.

You shook your head.

A sigh escaped her and her gaze turned to the ground for a moment. Then, an idea popped up.

‎

“How about some passion fruit juice? We still have some in stock from yesterday.”

‎

Ying said with that kind smile as she looked back up at you. It almost widened to a full-blown grin once your lids slightly lifted at this random offer. Passion fruit was your favourite. And she remembered, even though you mentioned it offhandedly many winters ago.

You still shook your head.

‎

“I’m not too fond of the artificial flavour.” You held her wrists and put her hands down. “Thank you, nonetheless.”

‎

It took you only two seconds to walk away from Ying’s benevolent aura and move behind the counter where the sickening one lay. The very creaks of the floorboards and the ticking of the machines churned your stomach.

‎ ‎

“I’m leaving. You need any help in here?”

‎

Your co-worker exclaimed, earning the same response you gave Ying twice. And with that, he immediately tossed the towel on the counter and walked out, leaving your boss in the awkward position of asking the same question.

‎

“Y/N?”

‎

“I’ll be okay.”

‎

Juxtaposed to the loud slam emitted from the door once your co-worker left, as if to announce his departure, for Ying, it was a gentle woosh of the wind, followed by a click once she’d closed the wooden door. You didn’t even realise she left until you lazily glanced at the exit for a moment, then turned to the task at hand.

‎

You grabbed the towel and began wiping the counters. The hum of the refrigerators around you remained as the only thing that broke the heavy silence that encapsulated the small café.

Everyday was the same routine. Wake up, go to work, go home and wait for sleep. At this point, the only thing amiss today was Ying’s offer to make you passion fruit juice. A delightful offer, but the juice here was artificial sugar. If anyone would know that, it was you.

You jumped once you felt a hand on your shoulder, looking over to see Ying.

‎

“Oh, Ying, I– I assumed you left.”

‎

“No, I merely closed the door.”

‎

Your pupils dilated as you took in her soft features once more. But before you could allow this conversation to blossom, you turned away and continued wiping the counters.

‎

“Y/N, are you okay?”

‎

“What makes you think otherwise?”

‎

“Every day, you look more and more like a zombie. I… I cannot help but worry every second you’re not with me.”

‎

With a loud clunk, you set down one of the cups on the marble counter and stared at the wet towel in your hand, its temperature combining with the one around you to freeze your bare hand. But that didn’t matter to you. There was only one thing that caught your eye; its colour.

Purple.

A deep sigh escaped you, but you didn’t dare lift your chin to look at your boss.

‎

“When are we opening?”

‎

Ying held herself and watched you continue working.

‎

“Please, just speak to me. I fear the day you won’t walk through that door, and I feel as though it’s coming very soon.”

‎

“Enough with the fear mongering. I just don’t want to talk, okay? I don’t even want to look at you.”

‎

She opened her mouth, but the words were lodged in her throat. Clearly, though those words escaped you without second thought, Ying was still taken by surprise.

You needed to act fast.

‎

“Everything reminds me of them, Ying. And you remind me of him now. More than ever.”

‎

“I… I understand. What you’re going through is horrible, nobody deserves to experience anything like this. But, Y/N, please,” she cupped your cheeks in her hands, “I don’t want to lose you, too.”

‎

You were forced to look up at the tall woman to even meet her gaze. And that, you hated. You hated how her features somewhat matched Yu’s. The more you scrutinised her, the more similarities you found. Their nose, lips, their height, and the way their silky black hair framed their face. Hell, even their soft voices matched.

‎

“You haven’t eaten breakfast today, have you?”

‎

Her amiable voice suddenly took on an incredibly stern tone, one alien to someone like her. And to say you were caught off-guard would be a massive understatement.

‎

“Pardon?”

‎

“You’re pale. Your blood pressure is low.”

‎

“Pressure…?”

‎

You watched Ying immediately pull away and rush towards the fridge, a gust of cold air hitting you like a whip. On another note, it was winter. Why the hell was the fridge still on?

‎

“Ah, I meant sugar, Your blood sugar. We need to get you something to drink!”

‎

You eyed the passion fruit juice she took out of the fridge, golden fluid swirling inside in a hypnotising manner. And with a slam of the fridge’s door, its movements grew more rapid and dramatic. Then, you met her gaze with a vacant expression.

‎

“Ying, I’m fine.”

‎

"For the love of God, please accept some help and get your sugar back up. Just this once, at least!"

‎

She desperately held out the juice for you. And, although you were incredibly reluctant, you gave in and grabbed it from her.

‎

“Fine, but if I’m going to drink juice, I might as well make it myself.”

‎

Ying’s eyes bore into yours whilst you twisted the green plastic cap. Then, a particularly contagious smile lifted her pink lips. That statement must’ve evoked something within her.

‎

“Do you still remember how?”

‎

“What? Of course I do–”

‎

“Wonderful! Then I’ll take out everything you need.”

‎

She lit up and trotted over to a nearby counter, her large black ponytail swaying with each step. Ying immediately bent down and took out a few dusty slick grey boxes from inside, but your eyes were only focused on the dust that fell to the ground with every box she took out.

A mess you’d have to mop up.

Nevertheless, you took a sip and immediately grimaced at the unnatural flavour.

‎

“I bought a container of passion fruit yesterday, but I was afraid you’d be offended had I asked you to make some again.”

‎

"Why would I be offended by that?"

‎

With a huff and a loud thud, she slid out the blender’s box onto the ground. Then, she fixed her posture and grabbed it on both sides, ready to lift it.

‎

“I did not wish to pressure you into making this again. I understand your circumstances, however…” she lifted the box and set it on the counter, meeting your gaze with a smile, “your products are very addictive!”

‎

You took another sip in silence and set the drink next to the cash register, before moving to the fridge to take out the container of passion fruit.

‎

“Do you need any help with those?”

‎

You shook your head and took out a spoon and a bowl. It didn’t take long for her to catch on to what you were trying to do, clasping her hands together nervously.

‎

“Are you going to wash and scoop all those seeds? Alone?”

‎

“Are there people outside?”

‎

She glanced at the wooden double doors. If the massive windows on the walls weren’t enough, the doors allowed an even wider view of the sidewalk outside. Thankfully, the snow didn’t obscure much of her vision, either.

‎

“Ah… No, not quite. This morning is as idle as the others.”

‎

“Then I’ll do it.”

‎

She smiled and nodded.

‎

“I admire your patience.”

‎

That was all she said before she turned to unbox the blender. Thankfully, she let the silence in the air settle and allowed you to work alone. At this point, the conversation already grew exhausting enough. You couldn’t be bothered to say another word.

‎

❤ฺ·。

‎

Winter, three years ago.

‎

At first, it started out a chivalrous act.

One day, Yu, your co-worker at the time, randomly offered to escort you to and back from work with a peculiarly red set of cheeks. You said yes. Not that you needed the protection. And quite frankly, looking back, it was clearly a thin veiled attempt for him to get close to you; but you still entertained the offer and walked with him. It quickly became a day to day thing.

First, you’d see him by the gates every morning and head to the café.

Afterwards, once you both went back, you’d part ways at said gate. He’d go to the bus to return to his house, and you’d go up to your apartment. But after you started dating, he started sleeping over. Then, he began spending more time in your cramped home instead of his lavish abode.

Then… Well, to say he simply ‘took over’ would be an understatement.

‎

Once the both of you had arrived at the entrance that would lead to your dwelling, you took off the earbud and handed it back to Yu, promptly pushing the thick door to your apartment open. Back then, whenever you’d enter, the gust of air that enfolded you used to have a… melancholic feel to it.

Now, it was anything but.

‎

“Every day you visit, this place looks less and less like the house I live in.”

‎

You randomly commented, not bothering to glance at him as you spoke. An audible creak echoed through the small area. Then, with a loud flick, the lights switched open and allowed the comfort of familiarity to finally envelope each of you.

‎

“How do you mean?”

‎

“Look around. Look at what you’ve done to my home.”

‎

You haphazardly gestured around you whilst turning on more lights. And it was only after a moment of confused silence did he finally respond to your comment.

‎

“I’m not following.”

‎

You turned around, and both of your eyes bore into each others’. Judging by the blank expression he carried, he truly looked lost. So… you’d show him.

You held his hand and guided him down the entrance hall towards the living room, and pointed at the couch that faced the television mounted on the wall. Just looking at it proved your point, seeing how it was covered with blankets.

‎

“Two blankets,” you then pointed at the armchair on the corner where another one sat, “three,” the other armchair, “four,” the heaters, “and five.”

‎

You turned to face him with crossed arms.

‎

“And the three on my bed.”

‎

By the time you finished pointing everything out, both of you had stopped at the doorway that led to the corridor. He knew by the way you pursed your lips; you definitely weren’t done yet.

You took a deep inhale, finally taking in the air that lingered around you like a lovesick ex.

‎

“It smells like the inside of a lemon, as well.”

‎

Yu smiled politely once you had finalised your sentiment. Sure, your tone was dry, but he wasn’t insulted. In fact, judging by his upright posture, he seemed quite proud of how he unwittingly changed up the place.

‎

“I... hear you. On another note, it's been three years and I still haven’t gotten to the balcony yet.”

You raised an eyebrow. He just couldn’t be subtle even if his life depended on it.

‎

“I’m not giving you the keys to the balcony, Yu.”

‎

“Just a peek?”

‎

You turned away and began taking off the heavy jacket you wore, earning a particularly endearing huff from him. The shadows on the ground let you know he crossed his arms and turned his gaze away to the living room. Probably eyeing the blankets on the couch you pointed out just a few minutes ago.

He muttered something under his breath. But before you could ask him what it was, he immediately moved over to the couch. Huh. Your hypothesis was correct.

‎

Not paying him any mind, you began slipping off your boots and taking off the hair tie that started to give you a headache.

Then, your eyes widened once you heard a distant spray. You immediately turned around.

“Yu, we don’t need anymore–”

‎

The words were lodged in your throat once you realised he wasn’t spraying the room with his lemon mister again. He wasn’t doing that at all, no. Instead, he was misting the potted plant set in the corner of the living room. Holes lay in the edges of its dull leaves. And thanks to the weak sunlight that bled through the windows, you could see that the soil was dangerously dry, as well.

You stepped up solemnly, watching him mist it.

‎

“How long has it been since you last watered this?”

‎

Judging by the curious tone, you knew that he wasn’t mocking you. He just wasn’t as knowledgeable as you were when it came to plants. You nervously clenched your fists and turned your gaze away, eyes landing on the dark vinyl flooring.

‎

“I… must have forgotten about it.”

‎

Of course you did. It was a miracle you even slipped out of bed every morning, let alone take care of something like this.

A gentle pat on your shoulder snapped you out of your maelstrom of thoughts, and you hesitantly looked up to meet his gentle gaze.

“That’s okay. You were busy.” He chuckled. “It’s probably why the smell of lemons is so strong, right?”

‎

You playfully flicked his forehead with a vacant expression, before grabbing the mister from his hands and aiming it at the plant. That’s one incentive for you to take care of the plant, that’s for sure. Oh, but you’d never tell him that.

Nevertheless, you continued misting. And spraying water on it felt so… weird.

But also relieving.

84 notes · View notes