#I FELL TO THE FLOOR IN AGONIZING PAIN

[youngyoo-apologist]

I will never forget how like most of the TCF cast never got to have proper childhoods, OG!Cale, Kim Roksoo, Choi Han, Choi Jung-gun, Alberu, Ohn, Hong, Beacrox, etc

Like most of these guys were either

A. Fighting for their lives(Choi Han, CJG, Alberu, Ohn, Hong)

B. Actively on the path to self destruction(OG!Cale)

Or just like having an awful time in general. Like it’s really sad how for a long time, none of them could actually act or be like kids due to the environment they were in.

Alberu being royalty and having to hide things about himself, and probably avoid assassination and kidnapping attempts since he was young.

Kim Roksoo and how he lost his parents at a young age and was abused by his uncle.

Ohn and Hong having to run away because the Cat tribe mistreated them, and they had to survive on their own.

Choi Han being taken away from his family and fighting alone for over a century in the dark forest where he had no one but himself and the monsters that wanted him dead to keep him company.

Choi Jung-gun also being taken away from his family, and losing people who took care of him again, along with like living a thousand years going through who knows what + whatever the hell the god of death made him do.

Beacrox losing his entire family except his father when he was no older than fifteen, and immediately having to live on the run right after.

OG!Cale taking it upon himself to protect his family, and essentially destroying himself because he didn’t know what else to do.

I think about Ohn a lot, like the fact that she was what, nine, maybe ten years old when she had to run away with Hong and make sure they were both okay. The fact that she was protecting him and herself at the same time, the way that she couldn’t ever play around or have fun when she was growing up because she had to make sure they were both okay. She took on as much as she could for Hong because that’s her baby brother and she loves him more than anything.

OG!Cale and Ohn and like, how they both did everything they could for their younger siblings, ohhhhhhh I’m crying I’m crying I’m crying donnttt even look at me rn

Also Hong and Basen, like being the little brother who watches your older sibling take on burdens alone and you want to help but at the same time your your sibling tells you it’s okay and that you should just focus on yourself… When the trope is older sibling(or family figure in general) taking care of younger siblings and they make sacrifices for them, I’m not crying, what do u mean? I actually do not care. At all. Not . One. Bit.

ALSO LOCKKK , TBoaH Lock they could never make me hate you I don’t care if you were annoying, whiney and a coward, if I was you I would be annoying, whiney and a coward too… he’s just thirteen and he lost all his family, obviously he was too scared to go out of hiding, ANYONE would be scared, he was just a young boy and he lost everything. He found people who cared for him, but he lost the person who resembled his uncle and that’s really when his world fell apart. It must have felt like the whole world was against him, that Lock could never have any family ever again.

Like I can imagine he’d probably have this underlaying fear when it came to Choi Han and Rosalyn,

“what if I lose them too?”

Maybe he hated himself for being a coward, for hiding, for not doing anything… maybe he hated himself even more because when he lost Pendrick, he wasn’t even sure if he’d be able to stop cowering and hide when there’s danger. The battle between wanting to be cared for and protected because the world is just too much and wanting to fight back and help because he doesn’t want to lose anyone else

This just makes me think about TBoaH timeline more oh it’s so tragic and sickening I cried

[lowkeyerror]

Always There

Agatha Harkness x Vampire!Reader x Rio Vidal

Word count: 4.9k

Notes: Non-major character death, depictions of violence, graphic violent content (blood, mob violence/torture, detailed wounds), angst, hurt/comfort, fluff, small mention of suicial tendencies, italics=past

Summary: Vampire reader has had a casual relationship with Agatha and Rio, but eventually too many years pass since their last encounter, the vampire starts to wonder if they still cared for her.

An: Posting this immediately after I finished writing it. Hope you enjoy. Likes, replies, reblogs, and all of that are appreciated 🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️🙂‍↕️ Edit: Not me saying itallics and forgetting to actually put them lol

Masterlist

You’ve had a casual fling with Agatha and Rio for as long as you can recall. There’s a stereotype about witches coming and going as they please, and you find it to be frustratingly true.

It's easier to get ahold of Rio than Agatha, which is ironic considering that Rio is literally Death. With the title comes the job, so all you truly needed to get a glimpse of her was a body. Perhaps you could arrange the carcasses in a way that said ‘stay with me forever’.

As a vampire, you had time to wait. There was no rush, which is how you believe things got so casual. You could never forget how you met the pair.

At the time angry mobs were running rampant, looking for anyone to persecute. You were a known vampire living not to far from a village. They hunted you for sport. There were many of them that you killed, but eventually they were able to ambush you. When they did, they used wooden spikes to pin you to a large ‘X’ that they built. The scars from were they impaled your flesh still present today.

They tortured you; punching, spitting, stabbing, you had eventually lost track of time after a few hours. The need for blood weakening you enough to where breaking free was nearly impossible.

They’d come in shifts for the torture and leave only one person to watch you in the night. That was their only flaw. You didn’t expect anyone outside of the village to come across you, but someone did.

Your head was hung low, when you heard the unmistakable sound of a body hitting the ground. You raised it slightly, to see the guard that was supposed to be watching you, dead on the floor.

“You don’t look too well.”

It had been days since you had tried to speak, so your voice was hoarse, “I wouldn’t think so.”

“What are you? Only someone different, is worth all of this trouble,” a different voice spoke.

Your eyes look to where the voices are coming from, but you only see shadows. Your tongue is dry as it passes over your bloody chapped lips.

“Vampire,” you mumbled.

“Help me get her down.”

When they approached, you finally got a good look at them. You couldn’t help but stare at their features. Both youthful with rosy cheeks. Rio’s large brown eyes caught your attention immediately, warm yet hiding something. Agatha’s features were sharper, her cheekbones, her jawline, even her eyes.

“This will hurt,” Rio examined the wood embedded into your skin.

“I know,” you spoke weakly.

You expected them to pull the spikes out with their hands. Instead your eyebrows furrowed when purple and green tendrils of magic worked around the spikes. Instead of 4, painfully slow, agonizing moments, there was only one rough pull, before your body fell off of the ‘X’. Only your knees hit ground as Agatha and Rio held up the rest of your body.

Your full weight pushed against them as your head rested in between their shoulders, “Thank you.”

“Hungry?”

Your eyes glowed a dim red, “I could drain a village.”

“Bloodthirsty, even in this state?” Agatha teased.

“Especially in this state,” you corrected.

You could hardly move, but you attempted to stand on your unstable legs. You grunted in pain as you put one foot in front of the other. Your focus was on the dead guard. His heart was no longer beating, but blood still filled his veins. It was calling to you, it had been too long since you had fed.

Your fangs snack into the man’s neck viciously. You had no remorse for the corpse as his body began to lose color as you drank. He wasn’t a large man, which was unfortunate, but he sufficed for the moment.

Harsh breaths and clearing of your throat, were indicators of how much you needed that. You wiped the blood off of your mouth with the back of your hand.

Your wounds were slowly closing, but it was taking all of the energy you had just gained.

“I can heal you faster,” Rio said tentatively grabbing your forearm.

She extended it so that it’s flat, before quickly running her tongue over the spot. You looked at her as if she was crazy, but then back at your wrist. The hole from the stake was gone, in its place was only a scar.

If you had a pulse, you were sure that it would be beating wildly.

You glanced at Agatha, who watched on, “Do you do that too?”

She shook her head, “Earth witch specialty.”

“How long did they have you like that?” Rio’s eyes have examined your body, noticing the extensive damage. Her finger trailed one of the nastier slashes across your stomach.

“I don't recall,” you spoke honestly.

Rio was careful as she healed the larger wounds on your body, you told her not to worry about the less significant ones. Even when she was done you were still caked in dirt and mostly your own blood.

“Let me help you out doll,” Agatha waved her fingers swiftly, and soon you were clean as a whistle.

Your tattered clothes replaced as if they were new, dirt and blood alike removed from your body. Ugly scars, now covered except for the few that littered your face.

“Why help me? We are only strangers, I don’t even know your names.”

“Abominations to humanity must stick together lest we want them to wipe every one of us out . You can call me Rio.”

“Agatha Harkness, pleasure to save you beautiful.”

One of your eyebrows raised, “Witch killer, Agatha Harkness?”

The woman chuckled, “I see my reputation supersedes my community. Does my aura scare you…”

“Y/n, and it does not. There are no rules when it comes to preservation of self. I’ve killed my own kind for good reasons and some not so good reasons. Bodies just seem to pile up when I’m around.”

“That why they nail you up like that?” Rio questioned.

You shrugged, “I suppose, a mixture of that and fear.”

“People fear death,” she spoke.

You shook your head as you corrected her, “Mortals fear death. I know people who are thousands of years old, who run from ailments of morality. They are foolish, death cannot be outran. Though it may take longer for her to come, she will eventually get all of us.”

“You aren’t afraid to die?” Agatha questioned you.

“No, there’s no point. She’ll come for me when it’s my time, but until then what is there to fear besides a wasted life.”

Rio had a small smile on her face, “Quite the philosophy you’ve fostered. Just one question, if you feel that way, then why kill anyone in the first place?”

It was your turn to chuckle, “If someone was meant to live, they simply would. I’m not stealing life, simply gifting death to those who have decided that it is their time.”

“How do you know that they’ve decided?” Agatha counters.

“Well you see, many people are weary of vampires and they should be. They let their guard down, they get comfortable, they play with their food instead of finishing the job. Those actions have consequences and I like to deal with those consequences personally. So I suppose when they choose to wrong me, they’ve chosen to die.”

“And the villagers who did this to you?” Rio pondered aloud.

You eyed her cautiously, “Do you stand to stop me?”

Rio shook her head, “I keep a witch killer in my company, you think I’m above a rightfully earned massacre?”

“Well you spoke of solidarity amongst-”

“Think of it this way, we can do what we want amongst each other, as it is our business. The humans have no right, to do what we do.”

You nod, “I agree.”

“So, you’re going to destroy the village?” Agatha questioned.

“My goal is to drain every last one.”

After that first encounter you were drunk on the thought alone of Agatha and Rio. Finding out Rio's true identity only made you lust for her even more. You knew that both had bonded with each other in ways you hadn’t understood, but that didn't stop your feelings from developing.

It didn't take long for them to fold you into their relationship, at least partially. They weren’t always around, but when they were everything seemed to fall back into place.

However, you’d be lying if you said you hadn't been getting restless these last few years. It was feeling like you saw less of them, especially Agatha. It felt like a game of cat and mouse. Somehow you had ended up chasing after them.

Tonight you walk the streets bored, part of you looking for trouble. Rumblings of new age vampire hunters in the area had piqued your interest. So you’d have a chance to have some fun or at minimum find your next meal.

Your fingers play with the rings they had gifted you, centuries ago. In the past you could feel both of them signaling you through the jewelry. It was a faint buzz, something like a hum, through the ring. A feeling that you hadn’t felt in ages. You longed to feel it again, to feel them.

Alleyways didn’t scare you, hardly anything scared you these days. Yet as you take a step into this alley, you sense something immediately. You feel eyes on you, as you walk.

“Has anyone ever told you to be mindful of where you settle demon?”

You continue walking, the empty threat meant nothing to you.

“I know what you are, I can smell it on you,” the voice echoes against the walls.

Your ears twitch, and soon you’re holding a frail man against one of the concrete walls in the alley.

“If you know what I am, you should be more mindful of how you approach me,” your strength speaks for itself.

You don’t give him the pleasure of seeing your fangs or glowing red eyes.

“Ah, you’re one of the older ones. This will be quite fun,” he says gleefully.

“What are you-" the question dies on your lips as you feel a needle being jabbed into your neck.

Your hand instinctively shoots over the spot, and your growl in frustration. You drop the man against the wall, turning your attention to the person who stuck you from behind with the needle.

This man was much bigger than the other. He was about twice your size, but it did not matter. You bare your fangs, hissing at the muscular man.

“Why isn’t she dropping?” He yells, fear laced through his voice.

You take the moment to pounce on him. Your teeth wasting no time, sinking into his neck. The man convulses under you, but you’re stronger than him. Even when he grabs your neck you don’t relent.

“Impossible,” the frail man, whispers from his spot against the wall.

“Nice try, but-”

The sensation hits you like a truck. You feel your vision get blurry and your muscles weaken. You blink a few times trying to will yourself against the late acting sedative.

The frail man nods excessively as you begin to lose consciousness, “Slower than usual, but captured nonetheless.”

You’re jolted back into consciousness when you feel the stake being driven into your skin. You attempt to shoot out of whatever position you are in, but it only causes you a familiar pain. Unlike the first time you were nailed to something, this time it was straight up rather than ‘X’ formation. Your arms hung up straight above your head and your feet were slightly spread underneath.

One spike was used to pierce both of your hands in place while you had one for each foot. Your breathing only quickens even more upon noticing you are in a forest. This couldn’t be happening.

“Glad you could finally join us,” the frail man from earlier want alone this time. He had a group of people with him.

“Let me go, and I’ll consider sparing you one I'm free,” you say, yet no one moves.

“You hold no power here, demon,” the man walks around you. “I am doctor Helsing, you may be familiar with my ancestors.”

Your jaw twitches, “ Van Helsing.”

He chuckles, “What a smart creature you are?”

“What do you want from me?”

His chuckle turns into a boisterous laughter, “ You can't offer me anything that I don't have the ability to take.”

You glare at the people in front of you, eyes turning a vicious shade of red, “The last group of people that tried something like this, paid for their sins with their lives. I hope you’re prepared to do the same.”

“They did quite a number on you, I can tell by your markings. Their only mistake was letting such a beautiful thing like you go,” Helsing says, his hand sliding across the scar on your abdomen.

“They didn’t let me go. I got out.”

His eyes had a glint as he leaned in, “And then you killed them all, how sad.”

He stabs you in the scar. Carving harder and deeper than the previous person. You grunt, but try to steel yourself under the knife. Yet you squirm finding the sensation to be more unpleasant than you had recalled.

“Silver cuts a little different doesn’t it?” He says watching the cut pour blood.

“You’re going to regret this.”

He turns his attention to the people, “Empty threats mean nothing when a beast is tied up. Would anyone else like a turn?”

People in his crowd begin to circle around you. Some with weapons, others cracking their knuckles. You're being attacked from all sides. The pain makes you tear up, but you avoid crying.

Instead you left out a bitter laugh, “That’s all you’ve got. Come on if you're gong to torture me at least put some passion behind it.”

“Oh, we’re just getting started. I want to hear you beg for your life, I want to see you broken, beaten, defeated. I want you to ask for death and then I'll award it to you.”

You spit at Helsing, “I’m not scared of death.”

He wipes your spit off of his face, a scowl now present, “For centuries my family has been driving your species to extinction. The failures may eclipse the successes, but don't think that we were never successful. You will fall at the hands of Van Helsing, creature.”

He has a device in his hand, he shoves it into your mouth. It forces your mouth open and your fangs out. He stares at them in awe. You try to clamp your mouth shut or retract your fangs, but you are unable to. You start to panic.

“Just like a snake, de-fang the vampire and a lot of that fear is gone,” his smile is sadistic.

You feel your adrenaline sky rocket as you shake violently. Your eyes wide in terror. The wood stake ripping your skin, but the pain was nothing akin to the fright.

You don’t remember the last time you were truly this scared.

He laughs and some of the crowd laugh along with him, “Are you afraid now, demon?”

Tears fall from your eyes and he coos. You flinch at his hand touching your face. His fingers were rough and callused against the swollen skin. You move your head as if to attack him and he stumbles back.

He grabs your jaw roughly, “This is the power of man.”

“Looks like someone is having a party and forgot to invite us.”

You know that voice. It makes you close your eyes in relief. The panic you felt in the moment begins to dissipate.

Everyone looks to the sky following the sound of the voice. It’s there that they see Agatha and Rio floating in the sky. Most of the crowd has their mouths agape, not believing what they are seeing.

“Should we offer them mercy, Agatha? Maybe our invites got lost in the mail?”

“This matter does not concern you foul wenches, be gone,” Helsing says, his voice trembles a bit at the end.

It’s Agatha that cackles looking down at the man, “See that’s where your wrong because…”

Rio appears behind the man, her skeletal form on her face, “If it concerns her, then it concerns us.”

Her dagger lays on his neck and he looses his composure.

“Anyone want to be brave?” Agatha questions the crowd, who screams when she shoots her magic at a nearby tree exploding it.

“What happened? A second ago you were lining up to torture her, but now you’re scared,” Rio adds pressure to her dagger.

“Don’t get shy now, doctor. Nothing to say?” Agatha gets closer to him.

The group tries to scatter but she traps them in a circle full of fire. They’re forced to gather close to each other. Their screams make you smile.

Agatha pulls the device out of your mouth carefully. Her hand caresses your face gently. You lean into her touch.

“We have to stop meeting like this doll,” Agatha mumbles only for you to hear.

“We wouldn’t have to meet again if you stopped leaving,” you shoot back.

Agatha casts her gaze away from you and over to Helsing. She and Rio switch places. The Green Witch, uses her vines to pull the spikes out of your body. It’s a feeling that never gets easier to experience.

You land on your feet ignoring the burning sensation. With your back tall you walk over to Helsing. You crouch in front of him, despite your own agony.

You hold his eyes, “Funny, I recall you telling me I’d beg for death. Well now she’s here for me, just not in the way you expected is it?”

Rio wiggles her fingers at the doctor, “I loved dragging the souls of your family to eternal damnation, can’t wait to reunite you with them.”

“Humans are all the same, always playing with food that’s not yours,” you stand towering over the man.

“Hey I like to play with my food,” Agatha pouts.

You smile, “When you have power you can do what you want.”

You open your hand and Rio drops her dagger into your grasp. The crowd watches in panic behind the flames as you approach the man.

“However, I’ve never been one to play with my food,” in a swift motion you slit his throat.

The gasps and screams of his followers sounds like music to your ears. He gargles his own blood reaching for his neck.

“Your blood isn’t worth drinking,” you watch as he collapses. You turn to address the crowd, “None of you have worthy blood. Cowards, followers, miscreants, I hope it was worth it. The price is your life, now burn.”

Agatha waves her hand dismissively and the crowd of people are quickly evaporated. Ash and burnt grass the only remnants of the aggressors.

Upon their destruction you crumble to the floor. Your body screaming at you for the abuse you endured.

Rio starts with the wound on your stomach before healing the spiked points. Your body still aches when she’s finished, but it’s substantially less than before.

“Déjà vu isn’t it bunny?” Agatha opens the floor for conversation.

“Now isn’t the time Agatha,” Rio scolds the woman, who raises her hands in defense.

“I was just reminiscing, is that a crime?”

You stand, “Well, good seeing you. Same time… in the next few centuries or…”

“You’re hurt,” Rio argues.

“You healed me enough,” you shrug.

Agatha rolls her eyes, “What’s with the attitude princess?”

You place a hand on your hip, “When was the last time we saw each other, Agatha? Rio, you only come when I leave bodies in my wake. So sorry if I’m not thrilled it takes me being captured and tortured to get some time together.”

“It’s always been this way,” Agatha argues back.

Your voice takes on an uncharacteristically soft tone, “I know and I’m tired. I don’t want whatever this is. I need something more, something tangible. It’s fine if you don't want to give that to me, but I can't keep waiting.”

You try to keep calm as you pull the rings off of your fingers, hand out stretched to give them back to their original owners.

“Y/n…”

“Take them… please. Free me, from whatever this is. I’m grateful that you saved me on our first day and maybe the same thing happening again is fate telling me that this is our last day,” you get the courage to look at them with teary eyes.

“You don't even believe in fate,” Agatha tries to reason with you.

“How would you know, you haven't been around. Things change, people change,” you tell her.

Agatha looks to Rio for help, but The Green Witch, just keeps her eyes on you.

“That’s bullshit! If change is so real, how’d we end up right back where we started hmm? Poor little hung up bat, in need of saving and here we are like always,” Agatha’s theatrics peak through her words.

“Like always?” You repeat, in disbelief.

“Look sweetheart, I know that-"

You ball your fists at your side, “What could you possibly know Agatha? Tell me, I’m interested in hearing. Did you know I spend all my time waiting for either of you to tell me if you want me or not? I don’t sleep, I just think and think and think about finding a way to end it all without having to see either of you. Hard to kill yourself with Death keeping tabs on you, even without a heartbeat. I knew this guy was tracking me, I knew what he wanted to do, and I said fuck it. I don’t care, what’s there to live for anyway?”

“You can't be serious?” Rio doesn’t want to believe what you’re saying.

“Of course I’m serious, part of me thought that after all these years humans would be over torture, but that was foolish of me. Why would I think that you'd come to save me? I still don’t understand why you did.”

“Because we love you, you fucking idiot!” Agatha shouts at you.

You scoff, “Do you really? I couldn’t tell by the hundreds of years apart.”

“We were protecting you,” Agatha gets in your space.

“What could have possibly been protecting me? Oh no, a loving and caring environment? How ever could I have managed such domestic delights and pleasures,” your voice drips sarcasm.

“You do realize that Rio is Death, right? Her job is literally to reap souls, you aren’t the only one that doesn’t get to see her often. And me… I’m all trouble, doll. There’s not a pleasant bone in my body.”

You roll your eyes and cross your arms over your chest, “Did you forget who I am? Have you had a head trauma recently, or maybe you need a refresher? I’m not the greatest either, cupcake. I just slit a man’s throat and had his followers executed.”

“By me,” Agatha points out.

“Ok and you want credit for the villages I killed too? The vampires I murdered? The people I lied to? The whores I fucked? I’m not some sweet innocent thing you picked up off of the side of the road. My ledger has had blood on it since before you killed your original coven.”

Your eyes are red as they stare into her blue ones.

“We were scared,” Rio interrupts the rising tensions between you and Agatha.

“Scared of what?” You glance at her.

“Of committing to you. Hell, Agatha and I can’t even fully commit to each other. This game of cat and mouse, it’s all we know. You’re right, you deserve more, so much more, but we don’t know how to give it. We don’t know what a domestic life looks like, we aren’t domestic people. I didn't think there would be any doubt in your head that we loved you, and maybe that just shows how fucked up we really are,” Rio monologues.

Her words hit you harshly. They make you want to start crying all over again. You cast your gaze to the floor.

“I guess that brings us back to the original point then, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s better if we just, end it here,” you can’t look at them.

“If that’s what you want?” Rio nods solemnly.

Agatha looks between the two of you, “Are you two stupid or something? You have to be if you think I’m just going to agree to this.”

“Agatha-”

“Don’t. I love you, both of you. I don’t want this to end and if that means changing the way things operate, then I guess things just have to change,” Agatha speaks seriously.

“What are yo-”

You startle when Agatha grabs your hands in both of hers. Her eyes locking fiercely onto yours. She doesn’t blink as she speaks, “Move in with me.”

“What?”

“You want time together, we can have time together. We’ve basically been together for centuries, come live with me.”

“Agatha, I think you've lost the plot,” Rio says, cautiously.

“You too Dr. Green Thumb. Let’s all move in together,” Agatha nods her head.

“That doesn’t fix everything,” you focus on her hands over yours.

She doesn’t hesitate to raise her hands to cup your face, “There’s obviously a lot to fix, but you can’t tell me this isn’t a step in the right direction. Y/n, I don’t want to- I can’t lose you. I’m not willing to let you go without a fight.”

Your face heats in her hands. Her eyes are ablaze with passion as they keep contact with yours.

You sigh and rest your forehead against hers, “I don’t know Agatha.”

Rio joins the moment, carefully wrapping her arms around your torso, “I don’t think any of us really know, but I think we’re supposed to find out together.”

“Please,” Agatha’s breath hits your lips. “Just a chance to make up for lost time. If it doesn’t work, then it doesn’t, but please don’t give up on us yet.”

Hearing Agatha beg like this tugs at your heart. You don’t want to give in this easily, but you’ve already wasted so much time.

“Ok.”

As the word falls from your lips, Agatha surges forward. You can recall the last time her lips were on yours. The warmth that they were able to send through your body. How firm she was in her kiss, not scared or uncertain as your lips moved together. She knew what she wanted and it was hard to picture a world in which she’d kiss someone she wasn’t interested in the way she was kissing you. You were the one she wanted.

Your legs grow weak, but Rio holds you steady. Her shifting grip, makes you turn to face her. Unlike Agatha she hesitates. She takes a moment to admire your features, she wasn’t in a rush. Neither were you. Rio’s kiss is softer than Agatha’s, her plush lips, move experimentally against yours. It’s not like she’s forgotten, more like she’s re-exploring. She's playful, as her teeth nibble on your bottom lip. You laugh at the sensation.

Rio rests her head on your shoulder. She extends her hands, motioning for the other witch to get closer. Agatha wraps her arms around the both of you. Her front to your back while her hands rest on Rio’s back. You’re encased by them, a feeling that is welcomed yet foreign to you.

“Promise that you'll keep me close” you say to both of them.

“Until the road ends, my love,” Agatha kisses the top of your head.

“I’ll hold you even after the road ends,” Rio kisses the base of your neck.

“Do you always have to one up me?” Agatha says to Rio.

Rio chuckles, “Sounds like a skill issue sweetheart.”

“Oh, we’ll see who has a skill issue later, when you’re begging me for help because my fingers are longer than yours,” Agatha says smugly.

Rio pulls back from you to glare at Agatha, “If you don’t want to ‘help’ me, I’ll just ask Y/n. Isn’t that right sweetheart?”

You blush at the innuendo.

“Nuh uh, bunny. I think I recall you liking my treats better, because someone has a skill issue,” Agatha sticks her tongue at Rio.

You turn an even deeper shade of red.

“You can never let an emotional moment be,” Rio says.

“Well you’re always trying to out ‘emotional’ me,” Agatha replies.

“It’s not my fault you’re not as smooth as me, mi vida,” Rio counters again.

Agatha throws her hands up, “I know Spanish and Latin too, you’re not special Vidal.”

Rio raises an eyebrow, “And who taught you?”

The back and forth makes you laugh, “Are you sure you don’t do domestic, because you bicker like an old married couple?”

They both huff at your statement.

“We’ll continue this at home,” Agatha points at Rio.

The brown eyed woman puts her hand over her heart in faux-fear, “Oooo, I’m terrified.”

Agatha opens a portal to her house and both women step through. Not stopping their bickering for a second. You smile as you watch them, feeling hopeful for the first time in a long time.

“The portal isn’t going to stay open forever, bunny, come on,” Agatha reaches her hand to pull you through.

You take it, stepping into your new beginning.

[midnightcrw]

I almost lost you

Pairing: Cregan Stark x fem!reader

Summary: You never thought you could be as sad as you are now.

Warnings: mention of losing your child, being stabbed (tell me if there should be more triggering things in this one-shot)

a/n: Even though I have never watched hotd before and only heard what happens in the show, I fell in love with Cregan Stark even though he was there for a few minutes. Also note that I'm not the best at writing, especially when it comes to hotd.

You thought you knew what sadness was when you couldn't get pregnant even after being married to Cregan for over a year, but this feeling was far worse.

You had finally fallen pregnant a few weeks ago, and that was probably one of the happiest times for you, as you had not told your husband and were waiting for the perfect moment, but things changed drastically when someone broke into your bedchambers while you were alone. You didn't even have time to react when a man wearing a cloak stabbed you and left you bleeding on the floor.

Painful wasn't even enough to describe it. It was agonizing the way your body froze in shock and you only registered the way the knife was pulled out of your stomach. You couldn't even remember the last four days because you were only lying in bed, not a single word leaving your lips as you had to process what had happened.

Cregan had not been here since that night. He was looking for the man who did it and he was furious, at least that's what the maid had said.

Slowly sitting up, your back now resting on the pillows as you traced the area of your injury, covered by a bandage and your nightgown over it.

"Lady Stark!" A woman's loud voice made you flinch as your heart threatened to burst out of your chest. Your eyes, now wide open, looked at the woman as you realized it was one of the handmaids.

"I'm sorry, my lady, but you didn't respond," the young woman said apologetically, looking down in shame. "Don't worry, it was my fault for letting my mind wander. Why did you come here?" Your voice sounded scratchy as you spoke for the first time in days.

"Lord Cregan Stark has arrived and wanted to know if you would like him to come in," at the mention of his name you got nervous, not knowing what was going to happen, but you nodded and motioned for her to let him in.

Only her footsteps could be heard as you began to fiddle with your fingers. You wanted to see him, but at the same time you didn't, too afraid of disappointing him.

The movement of your fingers stopped abruptly as you felt the bed sink down and your name was called softly in a whisper.

You were both in love with each other even before you got married, and you were perfectly content to call each other by name rather than by some title. It made you both more comfortable and felt better than calling him 'Lord' or you 'Lady'.

But in that moment, you wished he wouldn't. You wished that he would treat you as heartlessly as you deserved.

"Please look at me," his gruff voice was the only thing you could hear besides the wind from outside and you hadn't dared to look up, it felt like someone was starting to strangle you until you couldn't breathe anymore.

Your eyes were still looking down and you could see his hand hesitating to touch you as he pleaded with you again and this time you listened.

Slowly, you looked at him, your eyes almost lifeless as Cregan's were filled with concern.

When your husband opened his mouth to speak, you interrupted him by whispering, "I was with child.

And that's when Cregan's expression turned to confusion. No one had told him since you had wanted to be the one to break the news, but unfortunately not in the way you had wished for.

"What?" It was the first time you had ever heard his voice so strained. He started to shake his head in shock as his eyes moved rapidly to find even a hint of a lie on your face and when he didn't find it, the silence grew.

You hated it, you hated the way he looked at you in sadness and you hated it even more that he wasn't angry with you.

"I couldn't even give you an heir," your voice finally broke as a tear ran down your face, your lip trembling as you bit down on it to keep yourself from bursting, but the moment Cregan's arms engulfed your frame, you began to sob your heart out as your body shook while your husband tightened his hold on you.

Even though you couldn't see Cregan's face as it was buried in the crook of your neck, you knew he was letting his tears fall as you felt them on your skin, and it wasn't because of the child, it was because he was terrified of losing you.

Every day he had made it clear that the only thing he ever wanted was for you to be alive, happy and healthy. Not once had he complained about the lack of a child in your life, because he was content to have you around.

"That's the least of an issue, yeah?" He said as he kissed your cheek, still holding you in his arms. "We can always try again whenever you want, alright? The only thing that's important is that you let your body heal first," he said as his lips kissed your tear-stained face several times while reassuring you.

"But you need an heir," you sobbed softly as he let go of your body to hold the sides of your face in his hands. The look on his face suddenly became stern as he maintained eye contact, "An heir can wait." He said as he slowly touched his forehead to yours, "I almost lost you," he fretted as his eyes became glassy like you'd never seen them before.

His beautiful eyes that you could never look away from and now all you wanted to do was look away, not to see the fear in them.

"But you didn't," you replied, "Yes, I didn't, and I've never been more grateful for anything in my life," the moment he finished his sentence, your lips met his with an urgency that was almost primal.

The kiss was raw and filled with emotions that neither of you could put into words. It was desperate, a clash of needs that both you and Cregan could feel as your hearts pounded against your chests.

Your hands tightly curled the fabric of his top as one hand cupped your face while the other tangled in your hair. The two of you were almost breathless as he pulled away to rest his forehead on yours for a second before giving your now swollen lips a feather light peck and pulling away completely.

Your eyes traveled the contours of his face as he began to speak breathlessly, "We should sleep, it is late," you merely nodded as he stood to undress.

And not once did you look away as he undressed, the scars around his skin always drawing your attention. Some of them were already so pale that you couldn't see them unless you got close, while the rest were in shades of red.

Catching yourself staring, you quickly shook your head and moved down to rest your head on the pillow, and a moment later, your husband was lying next to you, his chest unclothed.

"Your wound hasn't caused any problems, has it?" He asked as he turned to the side to get a better look at you.

Your hand made its way to touch the spot where your wound was, "It's healing well, from what I've been told."

"Can I see it?" Cregan seemed hesitant as he spoke, but you only nodded, slowly pulling up your nightgown as you lay on your side for him to see.

The moment your wound was visible, Cregan gently touched your skin. "It's already scarred," he murmured as his eyes inspected the red scar on your stomach.

"It looks ugly," you said as you slowly pulled the material down until your husband stopped you, "You never told me that mine looked ugly."

Without hiding the truth, you muttered, "Because yours are beautiful.

Cregan shook his head at your answer, his eyes softening a fraction as he looked at you, "That's not true. Both of our scars look the same, but you can't see beauty in yours just because it's marring your skin and not mine"

Without letting you respond, he continued, "You are beautiful, inside and out. There's no need to call any part of you ugly because you're insulting my wife, the love of my life, and the lady of Winterfell."

Not saying anything, you buried your face in his chest and that was enough for him, to feel your heart beating against his as you held on to him.

[mika-no-sekai-blog]

Azriel x reader

Word count: +3400

Warnings: none (?)

Summary: When love becomes a painful burden and you can't stand it anymore, you decide to turn it into hate, avoiding its source at any cost. However, Azriel has enough and seeks you out.

When I wrote it in my head (late at night of course), it was perfect. But I forgot the exact wording😮‍💨 Now I'm not so sure about this. Also I bit changed the intended end to cut down the word count

Anyway, I hope you will enjoy it

Despite my resolve to not to look in that direction, my eyes darted to the dance floor again and again, pulled by power stronger than my will. Pain sharp like dagger carved deep into my heart as I watched Azriel dancing with some female whom he just met at bar. Their bodies seemed to be glued together as their hips swayed in the rhythm of the music, even their foreheads were touching. Female's arms wrapped around his strong shoulders and neck, sliding down and back up his biceps and chest only to once again return back to their start point, holding him close. Pulling him closer. He didn't seem to mind it though as his own hands travelled all over her body, squeezing soft flesh wrapped in tight mini-dress at times.

I felt bile rising in my throat and turned back to my drink, wishing it was something stronger than just mojito—something that would burn not only my throat, but also my heart with all the traitorous feelings. I wished I had never made that mistake and fallen in love with him. Things would be much easier.

We used to be friends, really close friends. However, ever since I realized I felt something more for him, my feelings kept deepening with every passing day to the point it physically hurt to even look at him. He didn't seem to feel the same way though, not noticing anything, and I was too scared of refusal and never confessed. After just few months I was so agonized that I couldn't even step out of my room without bursting into tears and that's when I decided to rather hate him than to suffer like that.

I started ignoring him, avoiding him at any cost, twisting everything into anger. I went so far as not even answering him when he directly spoke to me. It still hurt, but it was more manageable kind of pain than what I felt before. This was how I had lived for the last two years, working hard to build the wall of the hatred around my heart brick after brick, yet I had a long journey ahead of me.

I threw the straw on the table and knocked back half of my drink, trying to think about anything except of what was happening to my left. I was so focused that I noticed Cassian only when he tapped his glass to mine.

"What are we drinking to?"

"To fucked up life."

Cassian's guttural laughter was so loud that it even overbeat the pulsing bass of the music.

"To fucked up life then," he toasted and got his drink down in one gulp. He was in his element, beaming with excitement.

Rita's was full of all kinds of faeries as usual, the dance floor pulsed with life, bodies swaying, alcohol flowing. After the warm-up drinks, our group fell apart — some were at bar, some were dancing and some disappeared to who-knows-where. Cassian was the first one to mingle between the dancers. It was almost midnight, yet this was the very first time he stopped for a while. Well, stopped.. His body was somehow managing to keep moving along the music even while he was sitting.

He reached over the table, caressing my cheek, his expression softened. "You need to learn how to let go, doll."

"It's easier said than done," I sighed and straightened up to get away from his reach. I used to be quite touch starved person, enjoying every contact with persons dear to me, but lately I could hardly stand anyone in my close proximity.

His eyes narrowed at me for a second, but he said nothing and drumming fingers on the table turned to the dance floor. He bit on his bottom lip. Devilish smile spread on his face and he turned back to me.

"Then I'll help you."

"Help me with what exactly?" I frowned, already having bad feeling.

"To let go. Come!" He raised a brow, jerking his head toward that maze of bodies. "Come," he repeated, offering me his big hand when I didn't react.

Out of the corner of my eye, I gazed at the full dance floor. "No, never," I grimaced. "I'd rather die than to do that."

"Come! I promise you will have fun."

"I can't dance." All my friends knew that, including Cassian. I wasn't willing to dance even where nobody could see. That kind of activity simply wasn't up to my liking nor ability.

"I'll teach you."

"No."

"I'm not accepting no as an answer this time," he grinned, rounded the table and gripped both of my hands, pulling me with him. He was too strong. I followed him involuntarily, squeezing in between dancing bodies. He took me to the back where weren't so many faeries and we didn't have to jostle with others. Only then he let go of my hands. I immediately crossed them on my chest, feeling awkward.

"Relax," he pulled me closer, his hands on the small of my back. I pulled my lips into thin line, frowning. I didn't like this at all. "Just feel. Let the music lead you."

"The music leads me back to the table," I grunted to which he laughed.

"Just bit move that ass of yours. Like this." He gripped my hips, pulling on and pushing them to demonstrate the movement he wanted me to do.

"Geez, you are so stiff," he was laughing his ass off. The small amount of alcohol I drank finally kicked in. There was nothing funny on this, yet I couldn't help myself and giggled.

"That's it," he praised me when I did as he instructed. "Just like that."

When I got used to the motion, he let go of my hips and took a step back to have a better view. "And now add legs." He demonstrated several simple moves and I tried to mirror them. I felt like idiot.

"You are doing great. Don't stop." He again stepped closer and took me by waist. We danced together for a while, Cassian's mouth never closing — showering me with praise, stupid jokes and stories — and I really had fun just as he'd promised.

"That hardly can be called dance. Let me show you how to do it," a deep voice spoke somewhere behind me and shiver ran down my spine. My heart flipped at that sound and smile froze on my face. I knew that voice too well.

"As if you could dance any better," Cassian snorted, but he started retreating. I desperately grabbed fabric of sleeves on his forearms, wordlessly pleading with him to stay.

"Just have fun, doll," he shrugged and turned away, immediately finding another dance partner. I stared after him in disbelief, my back still to the newcomer. I felt him move, slowly circling me and I swallowed hard. I turned to the opposite side, determined to head back to our table, suddenly too thirsty.

Scarred hand grabbed my elbow, yanking me back and I was met with his broad chest. I didn't dare to look up.

"Not so fast, Y/N," Azriel mumbled and I wondered how it was possible that I heard him so clearly over the loud music.

"I don't dance," I retorted, pulling away. I didn't get far though, his strong arms keeping me at the place.

"I just saw you with Cassian. Just one dance. I'm not asking for too much."

No matter how desperately I searched for good reason to decline, any reason honestly, I found none. "Fine," I grunted at last.

For a while we danced and I moved as Cassian showed me, but I felt so uncomfortable.

"Try it like this," Azriel said, his hands moving to my hips.

"Don't touch me," I barked at him, my mind flooded with imagines of him touching that female not so long ago. "I don't even want to think about where your hands were before."

His body stiffened as if I slapped him and he fell out of rhythm. "I can assure you that I washed my hands properly."

He sounded hurt and I felt pang of pain in my chest. I realized the ambiguity of my own words. And because this was Azriel, he probably thought I meant his work which was quite sensitive topic for him. He didn't torture people because he enjoyed it, but because he had to—to protect this court, to protect his family.

Ignore it! I ordered myself, clenching teeth.

It took him a moment to recover. Just as we began dancing again, he keeping hands at his sides, the song ended, immediately followed by much slower one. A lot of faeries around left the dance floor. I took it as my call and followed the suit.

"Wait!" Azriel grabbed both of my hands. "We haven't even danced yet."

"But-," I stuttered.

"One song. Please."

It was that damn word please. He hardly ever used that word. He was always polite and perfect gentleman and everything, but it seemed he didn't have this word in his vocabulary. I could count on fingers of one hand how many times I heard him to say it in almost two centuries we knew each other.

"Just one song then."

"Yeah, just one," he agreed. His hands reached for my waist. "Can I?"

I just nodded, still feeling bad for unintentionally hurting him like that. He hesitated.

"You should put your hands here," he guided them to his shoulders, but I immediately let them fall to his biceps. I didn't want to hold on to him like that bitch. I inhaled sharply, surprised by the sudden strong wave of jealousy.

Hate. You aren't jealous. You hate him, I had to remind myself.

"That's also fine," he sighed, snapping me out of my spiralling thoughts. "Now you need to come a bit closer."

He gently pulled me to him. I made sure there was a wall of air between us, already sensing where he was heading. Unfortunately, I was so occupied by keeping him as far from me as possible that I didn't notice drunken faerie passing by. She dangerously swayed, unstable on her own feet, and shoved me from behind. Clumsy idiot as I was, I lost balance and once again ended up pressed to Azriel's chest. He was fast, his arms immediately wrapped around me, not letting me step away. Now our bodies were touching.. everywhere — hard parts pressing into soft ones.

I felt heat climbing up my neck, my ears already burning.

"Dance partners usually look each other in the eye," he muttered, amused. He had some guts to tease me.

My head snapped up in rush of disbelief and rage, my eyes met with honeyed hazel ones. Those warm orbs completely captivated me, imprisoned me in their depths and I couldn't look away anymore. All my thoughts vanished at once.

It was long since I properly looked at him, let alone so close up. He hadn't changed much. If anything, he was even more handsome than before.

Idiot! Stop thinking such shit! He isn't handsome. He's disgusting. Not so long ago he was touching some random female and now he's here, touching you with the same hands. He's promiscuous pig. Absolutely repulsive.

My chest heaved as I was fighting with myself, heart against mind. My heart pounded so hard it had an echo.

Wait! What a nonsense! Heart can't have echo, can it?

Just then I realized it wasn't some echo but a beat of another heart. It was Azriel's heart that hammered just as fast as mine and so strongly that I felt it through our connected bodies. And if I felt his, then he had to feel mine as well. At that thought panic started to creep up on me.

Azriel leaned down, so slowly. His warm breath fanned my face, our noses touching.

The song ended replaced by another and dance floor filled again. Azriel seemed to be too occupied and didn't even notice it, but I did. I shoved him away with all my strength.

He didn't expect it and wavered, his grip on me loosened. I jerked from his arms, recoiling. He reached for me.

"Y/N, wait.. Just one more-"

"No more dancing," I said, my voice so cold that I startled even myself. "You wanted one song and you got one. I'm done here."

I didn't wait for his reaction and showed him my back. I marched over to our table, emptied my glass in one go and even one shot that was left there. The alcohol burnt its way down my throat and I grimaced. I grabbed my things and without looking back or leaving a message to others, I left.

I stomped down the snowy road, hardly noticing the slippery ice under soles of my boots. Only once I got all the way down to the Sidra, I paused on one of the bridges, letting out an angry sigh. I drew the thick cloak closer, feeling the chill of winter night, and looked up at sky full of stars, my warm breath creating quickly disappearing puffs of steam. I was on verge of tears, angry, hurt and confused. What was that even about?

"Y/N, are you all right?"

Not again. I wanted to flee away, but his big hand blocked my way.

"Stop already running away from me!"

"Leave me alone!"

In the attempt to get away, I lost my footing on slippery stones. I would fall down into deadly cold waters if it wasn't for his strong arms that kept me upright.

"Please." There was that word again, this time even more desperate than the one before. "I can't do this anymore. Please, tell me what I've done that it made you this mad. I will apologise as many times as you wish. I'm willing to do anything to gain your forgiveness."

"I thought that when I leave you be, your anger will ease and you will eventually tell me what happened, but it's already so long and it's getting worse and worse," he continued when I just stood there, gazing down into dark waters of Sidra.

How was I supposed to tell him that he did nothing? That I was just stupidly in love with him and that I couldn't deal with my own feelings anymore? I couldn't possibly tell him that. So I was silent while cold tears rolled down my cheeks.

"I'm so desperate that I even tried to provoke you to no avail. I don't know what else to do to mend our relationship back to what it used to be. And I miss you.. so much. So please, tell me what happened, so I never again repeat the same mistakes."

He stepped closer, hugging me from behind. "Please." When he breathed out near my ear, shiver ran down my spine and my eyes closed. All strength, all fight left me and my shoulders slumped down. Azriel gently turned me around, so now I faced him. His warm hands cupped my wet and cold cheeks, his thumbs wiping tears away.

"Speak to me otherwise I-.." His voice was low, dangerously low.

"You what?" I whispered the words into silent night, needing to hear the answer.

"I.." Suddenly his face was so close that it was the only thing I saw, his breath hot on my face. My head, heart, lungs, whole my body shut down. I was just standing there, gaping, hypnotized by his sad eyes.

He waited until I inhaled and then his lips sealed over mine, his eyes holding my gaze. The kiss was slow, careful, hesitant.

I was stunned, my eyes the size of full moon above us. As the new sensation settled in, a firework boomed in my chest and I.. moaned.

He made a sound back in his throat that vibrated through whole his chest. Shutting his eyes closed, he unleashed, deepening the kiss. His lips, hard like stone and so soft at the same time, hungrily danced over mine, his tongue gently pushed into my mouth, looting and exploring.

Azriel tasted like an old whiskey Rhys poured me once from his precious collection. The rich spiced and woody taste was mixed with something sweet and delicious and I moaned again as I realised I tasted strawberries on his lips. My knees buckled and I clasped hands around his neck, my fingers tangling with strands of silky dark hair. He swallowed my moan and holding me upright, he pulled me even closer — as if it was possible — his fingers digging into my flesh.

His enormous wings wrapped around me, cutting off the rest of the world, wall of shadows protecting us from any prying eyes.

We kissed and kissed until my lungs began to burn with need for air. Yet I held on as long as I could, wanting this moment to last forever and only when I felt like I was going to faint, I slightly pushed against his shoulders. Reluctantly, his mouth released mine, but stayed close enough that I felt its every move. Both of us staggered weakly and he chuckled.

"Gods," he muttered under the breath, heaving heavily. "You taste better than I've imagined. I wanted to do this for so long."

I was still too dazed to think straight. I just knew that I was happy, my heart hammering into the ribcage so wildly as if it was trying to break through it. His lips travelled all over my face, leaving dozens of small pecks behind. As he calmed down, he hid his face in the crook of my neck, inhaling deeply, still holding me in an iron grip.

"Why are you angry with me?" His voice was muffled by fur of my cloak. Under my cheek pressed to his shoulder, I felt his pulse, strong and fast, just like mine. I inhaled his rich scent of early morning mist in the snowy mountains.

"I'm not angry, not really." My face burned with shame. I sounded pathetic even to myself, somehow defeated. My traitorous heart wanted to believe that this was real and that it would last, while my mind was screaming that it was only a short-lived dream.

He was silent for a while, most likely putting together pieces of a puzzle. Maybe it was my salvation that he was a spymaster with a brilliant mind. I didn't have to sink to the very bottom to voice aloud just how lame and stupid I was, saving me from the most shameful moments.

"Never - do you hear me? Never do that again. There's no need for such..." I thought it impossible yet his grip grew even firmer. He sighed heavily, pushing words through clenched teeth. "-ve you."

He muttered something, but I heard only the last part of it. What did he say? No matter what I filled in, nothing made a sense.

"What?" I whimpered, hardly holding my tears back.

Azriel inhaled deeply. "-ve you."

"I.. don't understand."

He straightened up, looking into my eyes, his face deep shade of crimson.

"I said, I love you." His voice was firm, but his wings around us trembled slightly, giving out just how nervous he was.

My eyes widened in disbelief. I certainly misheard. "Eh?"

"As you heard," he looked away shyly, his hands slowly falling down, releasing me. "I started to feel it shortly after we met, but it took me too long to recognize the feeling for what it is. I was full of myself, I should have noticed your pain much sooner. I'm so sorry, Y/N."

His words tore down the dam and the tears began freely flowing down my cheeks in streams. Years of the pain and suffering for nothing.

"You are really the worst. I hate you," I sobbed.

Azriel stiffened and then chuckled when I leaned in, hiding face on his chest. "Am I? You owe me chocolate for at least last two years. And that is not all. I believe you owe me one more thing."

"What do you mean?"

He licked his lips and biting on the bottom one, he slowly pulled me into another embrace. "When someone-.. No. When I confessed to you, you were supposed to answer something like 'I love you, too', don't you think?"

I hesitantly wrapped my arms around his waist and still sobbing retorted, "as if I could say such thing so easily."

His smile only grew. "Then I have to coax it out of you," he cooed and captured my lips in another sweet kiss and another and he kept kissing me until my heart healed, mending all the wounds of the past years.

[zombiigrll]

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IMMUNE? ⋆｡°✩ carl grimes x immune!reader .ᐟ WORD COUNT .ᐟ ⭑ 2.1K ꩜ .ᐟ WARNINGS ⭑ hurt to comfort?, use of y/n, blood, zombie apocalypse stuff ofc, post-terminus era, references/slight spoilers to twd 5x2 ?? petname (angel - which also did we all collectively agree that carl would call his s/o angel? i see everyone use it i have before too its so cute .ᐟ SUMMARY .ᐟ ⭑ you get bit, but nothing happens. ꩜ .ᐟ A/N .ᐟ ⭑ hey guys... its been a minute... (45 days COUGH COUGH) i am so sorry i have been SO BUSY and i didnt even realize i had this fic almost completely finished in my drafts so i decided why not finally finish it!! (which is also why the ending might be a bit weak because i also have no written anything for 45 days LMAO) my favorite thing about the whole science behind zombisim is all the theories of if you could or couldn't become immune so i wanted to write a little fic because i love... zombie science.. nerd alert!!! ☝️🤓 <- me but also whats a carl grimes/zombie fanfic writer without writing at least one immunity fic!! hope u guys enjoy!!

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everyone knew you were clumsy. you'd always have to be with someone, no matter what. that's how much people worried about you.

there had been plenty of times where you had been close to getting bit, and if you were alone, you would've been bit.

but now, you and your group were back on the road after the prison had fell. you all met up at a terrible place called terminus, and almost died if carol wouldn't have shown up. it was dangerous, and terrifying. but you had carl on your side, as always. he was the person who had saved you so many times. he was like your personal bodyguard.

you guys had eventually ended up at a church with a priest named gabriel. you felt uneasy being there. gabriel seemed, well, unstable. rick saw it too, telling carl to keep his guard up.

but after a while, everyone was inside the church, laughing and having fun.

you spot bob walking outside, which catches your attention instantly. no one else really seemed to notice, so you turned over to carl.

"i'm gonna go outside."

"do you want me to go with?" he asks, immediately sitting up.

"no, it's fine. i think i saw bob go out there. i wanna go check on him." you smile at him, standing up and walking over to where you saw bob go.

but when you stepped out, he was nowhere to be found.

"bob?" you called out, walking forward a bit more as you looked around for him. "where'd you go?"

you walked a bit further, leaning your arm on a tree as you looked past further into the distance, searching for any sight of bob.

but, to your luck, you were snuck up on. you heard a growl to your side, where your arm was leaning, and then a pain shot through your forearm.

you let out a loud shriek as you fumbled for your knife, stabbing the walker who was still attached to your arm in the head. you kicked him off, breathing heavily.

you could feel your heart pounding out of your chest.

you glanced down at the walker who was now laying dead on the ground, gripping tightly on your knife as you processed what had just happened. you lifted up your pained, bleeding arm.

"no... no, oh, my god." you dropped your knife and began wiping away the blood that was profusely leaking out of your fresh bite wound. "shit..."

you stared at your arm for a moment, attempting to catch your breath while watching your own blood drip onto the floor beneath you.

the doors to the church busted open, snapping you out of your daze. carl, rick, and michonne stood at the door, staring at you.

carl stepped a bit closer. "what happened? are you okay-" he stopped as he spotted your arm. his face fell flat and his eyes widened.

"it snuck up on me.." you quietly and breathlessly responded, tears falling from your agonized face. "i was looking for bob."

rick runs up to you as he realizes you had been bit. he grabs your arm, his face a bit panicked as he starts speaking. "we have to cut it off."

"no!" you tugged your arm away from his grip, holding your arm from him. "we don't have the stuff for that!"

"stop yelling." rick sternly ordered, putting a comforting hand on your shoulder. "let's go inside. i'm sure gabriel has the stuff for it."

you anxiously nodded, stepping toward the church with carl by your side.

"i'll get gabriel." michonne said, walking towards his office. "find somewhere for her to sit."

you take a seat in one of the rows, still holding your arm tightly.

"what the hell happened?" glenn asks, quickly walking over to the three of you with maggie by his side.

"she got bit." rick runs a hand through his hair. you look to your side and spot carl, just staring blankly, his expression the same as when he first saw your bite just moments before. he was speechless, and afraid.

you held your arm tighter as the pain increased, blood seeping through in between your fingers as you clenched your jaw. your breathing was progressively getting more and more ragged and uneven the more you panicked.

"i don't want you to cut my arm off.." you protested, your voice high pitched and wobbly. you closed your eyes tightly, a few tears falling from your eyes.

"we have to." rick shook his head. "otherwise you'll become one of them."

"i don't care." you sobbed, gripping tighter and tighter onto your arm. "i can't do it. i probably wouldn't survive either way, we don't have proper stuff for it." you could tell it was difficult for them to understand what you were saying through your sobs. "i just want to wait it out."

rick eyes widen, along with everyone else who were crowded around you.

carl finally steps closer, grabbing your other hand tightly. you could spot tears falling from his eyes. "please, y/n. i'll be with you, it'll be okay. please i.. i can't lose you."

you looked up at him through your lashes, pressing your lips together. "i can't, carl. i can't."

...

they had moved you to one of the rooms in the church that had something you could lay on. they tied your wrist to a pole and stood in the room with you.

you could barely keep track of what was happening. you genuinely felt fine, besides the side effects from losing blood.

"can you wrap my arm up..?" you requested. the tickling feeling of your blood dripping down your arm becoming too much, and you also wanted to test if that was what was making you feel sick.

being immune wasn't even a thought in your head yet. but you were just creeped out about not having any of the same side effects that anybody else had when they'd gotten bit. you were sweating, but you weren't feverish, that's just how the weather always was.

"yes, of course." glenn grabbed a thing of gauze out of his bag, going up to you and carefully but tightly wrapping it around the bite. he also grabbed a nearby rag to wipe the access blood that had been dripping off of your arm.

"...thanks." you sighed, looking away from everyone.

they were all just staring, waiting for something to happen. but nothing was. the awkward silence and suspense was killing you. you saw the sun starting to come up through the window, which means it had been quite a few hours since you had gotten bit.

you've seen people last a day, maybe the tiniest bit over a day, but you noticed that they always had obvious symptoms by now. and you still didn't.

you blew a raspberry, looking around the room. ".. i don't feel anything."

"what?" carl squinted in confusion, his voice still a bit brittle from crying. "like, you're numb?"

"no, like.. i don't feel any symptoms of turning." you laughed at how idiotic your sentence probably sounded to everyone.

"so, you're saying you're immune?" carls voice changed from being upset to just pure confusion.

"i don't know." you shrugged, tapping your foot on the hardwood floors. "i seriously don't know what's going on. the only time i felt sick was when it first happened and i saw my blood dripping. i feel fine right now, a little lightheaded, but i think thats from the bloodloss."

"look, theres no such thing as being 'immune.'" rick shook his head at your statement. "it might just be.. taking a while to settle in."

"dad, can you have a little faith?" carl turned to rick, glaring slightly at him before turning back at you. "i believe you."

everyone else seemed really skeptical about what was happening, exchanging confused looks with one another.

"we'll keep her in here for a little while, alright? if she still doesn't feel anything by tonight, then we'll untie her." rick sighed, looking down at you. you had been with everyone since the start, being there when carl reunited with rick and everything, so you could sense everyones panic when they first saw you get bit. and now, you could sense their pure confusion. people in our group have gotten bit before, but they'd show signs almost immediately.

"i can stay with her if you guys want to leave." carl said, sitting down right next to you. "i'll let you know if anything happens."

everyone agreed and left the room.

you laughed to yourself, looking over at the door.

"are you okay?" carl asks, looking at you anxiously.

"i'm fine." you turned your head over to look at him. "this is just so fucking weird. and we don't even know where bob went. i'm so confused right now. nothing is making sense." you let out another light laugh, shaking your head in honestly disbelief.

"maybe you're the chosen one." carl laughs, smiling at you. "i really hope you're being honest. i.. i don't think i can handle losing you."

you look at him with a lopsided smile, happy to hear how much he cared. "i wouldn't lie to you about this. i genuinely don't feel sick at all. i mean, i feel gross, but not in a 'i'm dying' way. more in a 'i just got my arm bitten into' way." you tried to make light of the situation, despite being terrified. carls expression stayed a bit worried. "..sorry, not funny. i don't want to lose you either carl. you're the best thing to ever happen to me, you know?"

his concern turned into a smile at your words. he leaned forward and hugged you tightly. all you could do was put your hand on his back, due to your other hand being tied up still.

"i love you." he mumbles into your shoulder.

you laugh, leaning your head on top of his. "i love you too."

...

a while passed, yet you still felt perfectly fine. your arm felt odd though, of course. you had been bitten into after all.

carl stayed by your side, telling you stories and just conversing with you to keep your mind and his off of the whole situation while everyone was out searching for bob.

you moved your arm up to your tied up one, itching at your tight bandages. “i want these off…” you dramatically complained.

“we should probably check on your arm anyways. even if you feel fine, there could still be something messed up with your arm.” carl says as he rotates his body towards your arm, carefully untying your arm looking at you for permission.

you nod, and he proceeds to take the bandage off. the teeth marks had dark bruises and dried blood around them, and your veins were darker and more apparent around the bite. it looked unreal.

you quickly looked away from the wound, shuddering. “holy shit.” you closed your eyes tightly.

you could hear carl stumble over his words as he tried to figure out what to say. “i… it… is it supposed to- um.. look like that?” he let out a nervous laugh, moving his hand to comfort yours.

you returned the nervous laugh, looking back at the bite momentarily. "i don't- i don't think so?"

your body was violently shaking, unsure what to do or what was going on. would you still need to cut your arm off? or would it still be fine, despite looking like that? you knew that you'd have to hide your arm for.. well, ever, if you decided not to cut your arm off. it could cause so many different issues if people outside of your group found out.

carl proceeded to grab anything he could find to clean your wound, as well as new bandages. you two sat in silence as he carefully cleaned your arm, the only sound being your light winces of pain as he applied the antibacterial ointment he luckily found.

he wrapped your arm back up and planted a quick, soft kiss onto your bandaged wound, looking back up at your flustered face with a smile afterward.

your face was hot, and you quickly averted your eyes away from his out of embarrassment.

he put his hand on your cheek and kissed your forehead, then pulled you into a hug right after. "i'm so glad you're okay."

you were shocked, but let out a flustered giggle before returning the hug. "thank you.." your smile kept growing and growing. then, the words "i love you." finally left your mouth.

he broke the hug and looked at you shocked, but then his big smile came back. "i love you, too, angel."

─────────────────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ────────────────────

[pregobirthlvr]

4, cage⛓️, 4 (extremely slow labor), 4 (agonizing), 3 (owner), 5 (birth in cage), 1 (laying down), 1 (head first), 3 (brutal birth), birth denial, 3rd POV

The Cage is a Bit too Small

Word count: 2008

Her huge belly pressing into the bars of her cage as she laid on her side. She was pregnant at full term with 4 babies inside her, and now the cage was becoming far too small. The cage wasn’t very big to begin with, in truth it was a slightly larger dog cage, but it used to be just big enough for her to lay down.

She groaned out as she felt another contraction begin. The pain began to radiate through her abdomen. It made her grip at the bars around her. Her head then fell back as her groans turned into whines and panting breaths.

She had no idea how long she was in labor. The contractions felt like they had been happening forever. In truth, the contractions started last night and now it was almost time for dinner. Since she didn’t know the exact time her owner just went off when he discovered her laboring away in her cage. He claims she’s been in labor for 18 hours.

Once her owner knew she was in labor, he continued to come and check on her frequently during the day. Each time she begged him to let her out of the cage to birth her baby. And each time he denied her request. Claiming, “Good girls should be able to birth in their cage. Excited even.”

Her owner came around just as her latest contraction ended. She looked up at him over her huge belly and through the bars of her cage.

“I think it’s time to push,” She moaned out.

“Not yet,” Her owner said. “You don’t push until I tell you.”

She went to protest but he just kicked the cage to shut her up. She flinched which triggered another contraction. She attempted to swing her belly up so she was laying flat on her back. It proved to be quite difficult, she barely moved before her contraction was at its peak. She stopped trying to adjust and just focused on getting through the pain in her belly and the aggressive need to push.

She continued to try and lay on her back. With each attempt she would almost get the right amount of moment and leverage before a contraction would force her back to panting and clamping her legs shut. Each time left her more exhausted than the last.

She almost had lost hope before her owner appeared in front of her again.

“Need some help,” he asked, kneeling down to talk to her.

“Please!” She begged, she grabbed at the bars between them and groaned as the next contraction started.

He chuckled watching her struggle to not push, her whole body shaking. He opened the door to the cage just as the contraction reached its peak. He placed his hand under her contracting belly.

“Okay try and sit up,” Her owner ordered.

She looked at him in a panic. She was mid contraction and tried her hardest to keep a baby inside, but she knows this might be her only chance. She screams out as she heaves her massive frame up. Her owner's hands were just the trick to get her all the way on her back.

She was gasping for air by the end of it. The weight of her belly pinned her down to the floor of the cage. The pain in her back was doubled from the pressure of her massive belly.

“Push with your next contraction,” Her owner instructed, ignoring her grunts of pain from adjusting.

She didn't have to wait long before the next contraction started. She braced herself and pushed hard. The first of her four babies began to stretch her vagina open. Her owner watched intently, telling her which contractions she was allowed to push with and which she had to breathe through. The noise she let out when the head finally reached the largest point was that of a tortured animal. She was still allowed to push so she did, until the head popped free with a gush of fluid.

“Okay breathe through the next one,” Her owner said.

“Yes, Sir,” She mumbled.

She did as she was told and breathed through the next contraction. She could feel the baby turning inside her. She took a deep breath when the contraction finally began to taper off. She looked over at her owner and he nodded, signaling it was okay to push again. She did just that, the next contraction had barely started and she was already pushing the baby out. The rest of the baby came sliding out with the last hard push. Her owner lifted the baby up for her to see then set it in a bassinet nearby.

Now that the baby was out she could feel how exhausted she was and how much her pussy stung. Her belly had deflated slightly and the pressure on her back was a little better. Yet she was still pinned to the floor of the cage but the three babies that were still inside her.

She didn’t have to wait long after her first baby before the second was already starting to make its way down. The water for the second baby suddenly broke after a fairly nasty contraction.

“You can push, just don’t let the head pop free until I tell you to,” Her owner said after seeing her water pool underneath her.

She wasn’t able to answer him due to the increasing pain from her contraction. She was thankful she now at least knew what she was doing. She braced herself and pushed hard. The baby only slid down an inch. She collapsed back, trying to catch her breath before the next one.

She pushed again and again, With each contraction the baby moved little by little into her abused birth canal. Until she could start to feel the head being to part her pussy lips. She let out a loud whine and tried to stop herself from pushing.

“I can’t stop it,” she cried out. “My body won’t stop pushing.”

Her owner shook his head, “I can help keep it in. You just focus on stopping your pushing.”

He placed a hand over her opening. The baby came to a halt. She could feel herself push but it was doing nothing. He held her like this for a handful of contractions. Her body strained to get the baby out. Her back arching off the floor of her cage with each contraction that swelled inside her. She was already so tired from her first baby, she wished her owner would let her push this one out so she can rest before the other two.

When her owner finally felt like she behaved enough he began to slowly remove his hand from her pussy. The head immediately began to spread her open. She cried out and pushed hard. It took a few contractions but finally the head was at a full crown. It stretched her even further open from this baby being slightly larger than the last.

“The head… it’s almost..” She grunted out.

With one big push the head sprung free. She couldn’t wait for the next contraction before she was screaming the rest of the baby out. The rest of the baby slid out of her with ease.

“I can’t…” She gasped out. Years had started to stream down her face. “I can't do another”

“You have no choice,” her owner said unapologetically. “You still have two more in you that are going to come out whether you want it or not.”

She did have time to respond. Her third water broke before her second baby was even in the bassinet. She screamed when her next contraction built up. She was pushing as soon as it started. She was focused on getting this baby out as fast as possible. She bore down again and again, screaming, crying and begging for it to be over.

Her owner's constant presence between her legs was a reminder of why she was doing this. She was to give birth again and again for him until she could no longer. She couldn’t think about this too long, the head of her third baby was now starting to exit her pussy.

“It's coming,” She grunted out as she pushed.

The head slid forward until it was at its largest point. It wasn’t much bigger than the last but still managed to open her up as wide as she could go. She pushed again, the head bursting free. Then with another push a moment later the body followed.

With only one baby left inside her, her belly was now significantly smaller. It looked like a half deflated balloon. She rubbed the small bump that was left there.

“Just one more…” She let out breathlessly.

Enough time passed that she was able to catch her breath and relax just a little. With the pain from the contractions on the lower end she was unfortunately finally able to feel how bad her pussy ached. She flinched just a moment ago when she tried to readjust herself. Now she was trying to lay as still as possible, to not hurt herself further, and just wait for the last baby.

A few moments later she felt her last water break. Then she felt the pain of the last of her contractions start to ramp up again. She was too exhausted to get too worked up. She swayed her hips from side to side and let out deep moans. Her hand continued to rub her belly as a desperate attempt for some comfort. It didn’t take much for her to notice the baby was much bigger than all the last as it weighed heavily in her pelvis. Tears started to flow from her eyes when the baby’s head entered her birth canal.

Her legs limply hung open while she pushed. The baby was taking its time to emerge. The head was still only half way out and she was already on the verge of passing out. She let out a deep whine and when her latest contraction ended.

Her owner looked at her, “You have to keep pushing. I know it feels like it's stuck but it’ll come out.”

“Too tired,” She slurs out.

“Push.” Her owner commanded not wanting to hear her say another word.

She let out a sob and pushed hard with her contraction. The baby moved forward slightly. She pushed again and again. Until finally the baby's head was at her entrance.

“Don’t stop,” your owner orders. He starts to prod at her opening hole.

She could barely answer, instead settling on pushing again. The head was now starting to come out. With the end of her birth now in sight, she now has some new found energy. She pushed hard again with the next contraction. The head managed to move pretty quickly, but slowed down when the head began to stretch her already worn out pussy.

She screamed bloody murder as the head continued to come out of her red and swollen pussy. It burned the whole time she pushed. At a full crown her pussy was on the verge of splitting apart. She tried to not think about it as her body forced her to push again.

With one good push the head flung out. Her owner screamed for her to continue. So, she didn’t stop pushing. She screamed and pushed again and again to get the body out quickly. Her whole body shaking as the last of her baby slid free from her pussy.

She collapsed inside her cage. Birth fluid and sweat covered her body. Tear tracks ran down both her cheeks. She grimaced as the pain in her body caught up with her. Her pussy and muscles ached. She could barely sit up from being so exhausted. Her mouth was dry from screaming for so long. She didn’t even get a chance to meet her babies before she fully passed out.

Then not even 3 months later she was already showing for her next batch of babies.

[voxslays]

GOODNIGHT, MY LOVE

Featuring >>> Lucifer x Reader; In which, an attempt to kill baby Charlie goes south. Resulting in a soporific curse placed upon the reader, who struggles to deal with the aftermath of its affects.

Part Four Part Six

A/N: I wanna explain something really quick- i wrote how Lucifer lost his wings when he fell, which isn’t confirmed to be canon or not, however, I saw a theory about it (which I agreed with) and that’s why it’s in this chapter.

Lucifer wasn’t okay. It had been seven long, agonizing years since that fateful day—the one where you were lost to a sleeping curse cast by (Lucifer’s own brother, and also) heaven’s angels, the supposed divine beings. Lucifer had become a shell of his former self, consumed by grief and regret. He barely ate or slept, spending his days locked away in his workshop, tinkering with various rubber duckies to pass the time. He had never told Charlie what had happened to you—it was much too painful…and it was better this way. Charlie was too young to understand at the time, and even now it would still hit her hard, like a tornado. So Lucifer carried the weight of your untimely demise to himself, never outright confirming nor denying your fate. But Lucifer knew it was time to visit you—he just had to.

Inside was a beautiful atrium, surrounded by all of your favorite flowers. There were large apple trees that grew golden apples (that never rot, (thanks to the backflipping rubber duck 3000!)) and invasive rose bushes. Lucifer had never planted the roses, but it seemed wherever you went, roses followed. His steps echo softly across the marble floor as he walks through the atrium, marveling at the golden apples glistening in the moonlight filtering through the stained-glass roof.

The sweet scent of roses fills his nostrils, bringing back vivid memories he's fought so hard to suppress. "My love…" In the middle of the atrium is a glass coffin-like case. What was inside? You. You looked as peaceful as ever, as though you were only taking a small slumber. Lucifer approaches the glass coffin cautiously, his reflection shimmering on the polished surface. Inside lies your sleeping form, frozen in time. Your hair fanned out beneath your head, your skin almost luminescent under the ethereal light as your chest slowly rises and falls.

In your hand lies a simple yet elegant bouquet of white roses, which continue slowly rise up and down as you softly breathe. You're not dead—at least, not really. You're trapped in an eternal slumber, frozen in time. You don’t move in your sleep at all, the only sign of life is your shallow breathing—yet Lucifer refuses to let you go. How could he? The two of you have been together for thousands of years. That’s not something you can easily erase.

Lucifer reaches out, placing his gloved hand against the glass, gently looking at the white roses in your grasp. He slowly raises up his other hand, looking at his golden wedding band—before his eyes flick down to the golden wedding band on your own finger, mirroring his own. He remembers the day he slipped it on, all the joy, the happiness—now replaced by endless sorrow and loneliness. He straightens up, his mind racing with questions and unspoken words.

He ungloves his hand, pressing his bare white palm against the cool glass, as if trying to reach through to hold your hand. He stares at the rings, a bitter laugh escaping his lips. "Still married, aren't we?” His voice cracks slightly, emotion barely contained as he stares at your sleeping face through the glass. "You always wanted white roses, remember? I used to tease you about it…" His voice trails off, lost in memory "You always looked so beautiful next to them.”

His other hand reaches up, tracing the glass over your cheek softly. Tears threaten to fall as he continues speaking, voice thick with emotion "Do you dream of me? Or are you trapped… lost in some eternal, peaceful oblivion?" He asks, as if expecting an answer he’ll never get. Lucifer’s thumb gently strokes the outer surface of the glass over your sleeping form, creating tiny rainbows from the moonlight reflecting through the stained glass above. "When we fell… I thought losing my wings would be my greatest punishment. But now…” He pauses, trying (and failing) to keep his composure. “Now I know there's nothing worse than existing without you."

His voice breaks slightly as he looks at your peaceful face, a single tear finally falling down his cheek. “I miss you…” He stands there for a long moment, tears streaming down his face as he looks at you, lost in his grief. Finally, he turns away, walking back through the atrium, leaving the glass coffin behind, the sound of his quiet sobs echoing through the castle halls. "Goodnight, my love…"

[band--psycho]

Sylus x Reader -Black Tears And Pleasure

Masterlist / Sylus Masterlist / Join My Taglist

Please be kind (it's been a while since I've written a smutty story); reblogs are always welcome and greatly appreciated!

Thank you all for the continued support and I hope you all enjoy this! 💛

Requests are open so if you have any ideas/requests, you're more than welcome to send them over.

I do not give permission for any of my works to be copied or translated onto this site or other platforms

For the lovely @the-slytherin-poet who requested this a few days ago! Thank you for the request!

Warnings: Kinks, choking, edging, overstimulation, smut, swearing (18+), smut without plot

Sylus had kinks and he wasn’t ashamed of them, nor was he shy in sharing them with you, this time was no exception. 

That’s why you couldn’t help but knowingly smirk at him from across the room after noticing that all of your mascaras had been replaced with non-waterproof ones. 

You knew he’d been the one to do it; and you knew why. 

He couldn’t help it. 

Out of all of his kinks; watching mascara mix with your tears as you cried in pleasure was one of, if not the biggest kinks he now had. 

You knew that tonight, you were in for a long, blissfully torturous night; one that would leave you absolutely ruined…and you were so ready for it. 

So ready, that even though you’d spent the past hour or so getting ready, you didn’t actually want to go out anymore.

“Maybe we should stay in tonight,” you temptingly suggested, seductively walking over to Sylus, who was sitting in his chair; completely captivated by you. 

“Really?” he answered; quirking an eyebrow, an all too familiar glint gleaming away in his ruby eyes at your words.

He was hoping that you would say that. 

He was hungry. 

But food could wait. 

Especially if it meant he got to ruin you sooner.

“Yeah…” you breathed, placing yourself on his lap, allowing you to feel his already hardening length, before leaning in and kissing him.

It didn’t take long until the expensive black dress you’d purchased for tonight had been ripped from your body and discarded to the floor, as though it was nothing more than dirty laundry.

“That was expensive,” you scolded playfully between kisses. 

“I’ll buy you another one, kitten, don't worry,” he chuckled darkly; revelling in the small gasp that fell from your lips when he lightly touched your already swollen clit through your panties.

In the space of ten minutes he’d tied your wrists to the bedpost and made you cum over and over again until you were nothing more than a moaning mess for him; and he’d done so without even properly touching you yet. 

That was something that he prided himself on, ruining you…wrecking you to the point that tears were falling from your eyes because you were experiencing so much overwhelming pleasure. 

And the best part was, he was the only one that ever got to see you like this. 

Desperate.

Needy.

Begging for his touch.

Willing to do pretty much anything he told you to do. 

After what felt like hours of agonizing teasing, he finally got on top of you; wrapping one his hands around your throat (not tight enough to cause you any pain, but tight enough that it made your head feel a little woozy from the lack of oxygen), and fucking you. Hard.

This wasn’t the first time you’d had sex with Sylus, in all honesty you’d lost count of how many times you’d been intimate with him. 

One thing that you did know though, was that every time he seemed to fuck you better, taking you to a new high each and every time. 

This time was no different. 

He was edging you so much, you could already feel the tears brimming in your eyes from the overstimulation.

“You look so pretty like this,” he groaned, ramming his hard, thick dick in and out of you, relentlessly. 

He watched you with lustful eyes, as the tears began falling from your beautiful eyes, mixing with the black mascara you’d put on a few hours prior. 

He could've cum right then.

But he wasn't done with you yet.

He needed you to cum at least once more before he could even consider reaching his own high.

You looked like a wreck; but right now, you didn't care, and neither did Sylus. 

He loved it. 

You were so lost in your pleasure that all you could do was moan in response to his words.

He knew you were close, he could feel your pussy tightening around him like a vice, so after an evening of edging you, he thought he would allow you to have what you were clearly craving so desperately. 

“Why don’t you be a good girl and cum for me?” 

Almost instantly your body obeyed him; allowing you to reach the release you’d been chasing for most of the evening.

He reached his own release soon after; not being able to hold back any longer, especially not when he saw your mascara stained cheeks. 

“So fucking perfect,” he drawled, moving his hand from around your throat to your face, smudging the black tears that had were still falling down your cheek. 

Tagging some people who might enjoy this:

@xacatalepsyx @book-dragon03 @fangirlsfandomsss @albert-moriarty-fan @elegantangelenthusiast @worm-in-a-bug @darkphoenix2332 @deathkat657 @xenasolos @tasha-1994 @randomruff @mrs-masen-cullen @okaydokey @taronyuhunter @reverbsworld @serenitymaria @babygirl-panda19 @themagicafox @kisukiis

[tipsynight0]

Possessions kiss

Paring - jeff the killer x female reader

Trigger warnings - jealousy, possessiveness, toxic relationship, abuse, blood, broken bones, violence, threats, mature themes.

Synopsis - jeff had a shitty mission and takes it out on toby and (y/n)

Word count - 1.6k

A uthors note - I’m sorry but I like making this man angsty as hell, I dont condone this type of behaviour I just simply write it. It is creepypasta after all and Jeff is quite the character to begin with. Anyway, thank you for the crazy amount of love I’ve been receiving. I’m just doing this shit for pure therapeutic reasons and I’m glad so many of you are enjoying it <<3

Three agonizing days of trudging through the bitter cold, snow whipping against his face, and all for nothing. The target—Jeff’s kill—was already dead. Worse, the one who stole his thunder was Toby, the jittering, stuttering pain in his ass who always managed to get under his skin. Jeff’s fists clenched at the thought, knuckles whitening against the cold. The icy wind wasn’t the only thing making his blood run hot.

He slammed the mansion door behind him, the crack of wood against wood echoing through the empty halls. His boots were caked in snow and mud, leaving wet, dirty prints on the floor as he kicked them off carelessly. His jaw was set in a hard line, his breath coming out in heavy puffs, like a storm waiting to break. No one was around to witness the brooding fury that seemed to radiate off him in waves, but that didn’t calm the growing rage gnawing at his insides.

With heavy steps, he trudged up the stairs, the quiet of the mansion only amplifying his agitation. His body ached from the cold, the kind of bone-deep chill that even a steaming hot shower wouldn’t cure, but it wasn’t just the cold that was bothering him. Toby had taken what was rightfully his. And if that wasn’t bad enough, the house was too quiet—too still.

Where the hell was (Y/N)?

His mind reeled as he reached the bathroom, his jaw tightening as he entered. Immediately, the familiar scent of her perfume hit him. Sweet, delicate, floral. Completely at odds with the chaos inside him. It clung to everything she touched, an irritating reminder of how she had woven herself into his life.

Jeff’s lip curled in frustration. Her meticulously organized row of perfumes, skincare bottles, and other girly shit cluttered the counter. He reached out and, with a sweep of his hand, shoved her things aside, not caring where they fell. They tumbled over each other, bottles clinking as they scattered in disarray. A petty victory, but one that briefly sated the growing anger inside him.

But it wasn’t enough.

As he brushed his teeth, he leaned over the sink, his eyes narrowing at his reflection. Tired, bloodshot eyes stared back at him, but what irritated him more was how (Y/N) had her toothbrush placed so perfectly beside his. How her towels were neatly folded while his were haphazardly thrown around the room. He couldn’t stand the neatness, the way she tried to bring order to the chaos that was his life. So, after rinsing his mouth, he spat a thick wad of toothpaste directly into the sink, leaving it there like a challenge. She’d have no choice but to clean it up, and that small, spiteful act brought a ghost of a smile to his lips.

Still, something gnawed at him—a tension in the air that wouldn’t let up. As he pulled on a plain black T-shirt and flannel pants, the mansion’s silence felt oppressive, pressing down on him. Something was off. Where was she?

Jeff stepped out into the hallway, his heavy footsteps echoing against the wooden floors. As he moved toward the far end of the house, he noticed something—a muffled sound. Laughter. And not just any laughter—her laughter. It was light, familiar, and it made his gut twist in the worst way.

His steps faltered, his body going rigid as he approached Toby’s door. The closer he got, the more he could hear—(Y/N)’s soft laughter, followed by Toby’s stuttering voice.

Jeff’s grip tightened on the doorknob, a slow burn of anger building inside him, his breaths growing shallow as he peered through the crack in the door. The sight before him was enough to set his blood on fire.

There she was, sitting on the floor, laughing as she held a handful of Uno cards. Toby, his goddamn twitchy, annoying self, was sitting far too close, his body angled toward hers, that stupid grin on his face as he tapped her knee like it was the most natural thing in the world.

That single touch—the light brush of Toby’s hand against (Y/N)’s leg—was all it took. The rage inside Jeff erupted like a tidal wave.

Without thinking, Jeff slammed the door open, the force of it crashing against the wall with a deafening bang. The sudden intrusion sent (Y/N)’s cards scattering across the floor, her laughter immediately dying in her throat as her eyes shot up to meet his. Toby flinched, but before he could even react, Jeff was on him.

“You piece of shit,” Jeff growled, his voice low and dangerous, dripping with venom. In an instant, his hand was wrapped around Toby’s collar, yanking him off the floor with the strength of a man possessed. Toby’s back slammed against the wall, hard enough to rattle the pictures hanging beside him.

Toby’s eyes widened in panic, his stuttering breathing erratic as he raised his hands in a feeble attempt to pry Jeff’s iron grip off his throat. “J-J-Jeff, w-wait—”

But Jeff wasn’t listening. The rage had fully taken over. “First, you take my fucking kill,” he spat, his voice shaking with barely contained fury. He didn’t wait for an answer. His fist flew, connecting with Toby’s jaw in a brutal crunch. Blood immediately gushed from the impact, splattering across the floor and the wall.

“Then you touch my (Y/N)?” Jeff’s voice dropped to a lethal whisper as his fist struck again, this time smashing into Toby’s nose. Blood sprayed from the broken cartilage, Toby’s head snapping back with the force of the blow.

“Jeff! Stop!” (Y/N)’s voice cut through the tension, panicked and sharp as she rushed forward, grabbing his arm. But her grip was small, insignificant against the hurricane that was Jeff. His rage had him in a chokehold, refusing to let go.

Toby’s head lolled to the side, barely conscious, his twitching body sliding down the wall as he let out a pathetic laugh. Jeff’s breath was heavy, his chest rising and falling with each angry exhale, his fists still clenched and dripping with blood—Toby’s blood.

With one last shove, Jeff released Toby, letting him crumple to the ground in a pathetic heap. His body was twitching uncontrollably, a mess of blood, bruises, and broken bones, but Jeff didn’t even spare him another glance. His eyes were solely focused on (Y/N), the object of his rage and his obsession.

“Don’t you fucking speak,” Jeff growled, his voice so low it was almost a hiss. In an instant, his bloodied hand shot out, grabbing (Y/N) by the wrist and yanking her out of the room with brutal force. She stumbled, her feet dragging across the floor as she cast one last glance at Toby, who lay crumpled on the floor in his blood-soaked mess.

The hallway seemed to stretch out endlessly as Jeff dragged her toward their shared room, his grip tight and unyielding. He slammed the door behind them with enough force to make the walls shake.

(Y/N) stood there, arms crossed over her chest, her expression a mixture of fury and disbelief. “What the hell was that for, Jeff?” she demanded, her voice shaking with a combination of fear and anger.

Jeff didn’t answer right away. Instead, he stalked toward her like a predator cornering its prey, his dark eyes locked on hers, dangerous and filled with a possessive hunger. His breath was still labored, his damp hair clinging to his forehead, but his gaze never wavered.

Without warning, he grabbed her by the throat. His grip was firm, not quite enough to cut off her air supply, but tight enough to make her feel the threat in every breath. He leaned in close, his lips brushing the shell of her ear as he spoke in a low, deadly voice.

“Next time, I’ll break his hand,” Jeff hissed, his words sharp as a blade. “Do you think anyone gets to touch you but me?”

(Y/N)’s pulse raced under his grip, her breath catching in her throat as his possessive words sank in. She swallowed hard, her voice barely a whisper as she tried to respond. “You’re being—”

Before she could finish, Jeff’s grip tightened just enough to make her gasp. His smirk was dark and dangerous as he tilted her chin up, forcing her to meet his gaze head-on. “You’re lucky I don’t strangle you right now,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers in a maddening tease. “You’re lucky I fucking love you.”

Then, in a move so sudden it made her head spin, Jeff’s lips crashed down on hers in a brutal kiss, all teeth and dominance. He bit down hard on her bottom lip, the metallic taste of blood filling both their mouths as she winced from the sharp pain. But before she could protest, his tongue swept over the bite, claiming her in the most possessive way possible.

His other hand gripped her waist, pulling her flush against him, his body a solid wall of heat and danger. There was no space between them, no room for protest. His kiss was savage, demanding, taking everything he wanted, leaving her breathless in his wake.

And for Jeff, that’s exactly how it should be.

[trentsgirl]

— 🤍 ⋆⭒˚｡⋆ (part two to stupidly in love with you)

⟡ summary: after being banned from the next match, jude decided to drown his sorrows in alcohol. as you accompanied him on his way home, he shared something with you.

⟡ content: friends to lovers, very fluffy, mentions of kissing, no cliffhanger this time, around nine hundred words.

⟡ streaming: better by zayn.

⟡ masterlist, part one, part two.

escorting jude back to his home was quite tiring and draining. it felt like you had walked for ages until you finally managed to get him to bed.

jude quickly fell asleep, dozing off as soon as his head touched the pillow. you couldn’t help but smile softly at the sound of his snores, although it quickly faded as you noticed the mess in his room.

being someone who values cleanliness, you promptly began tidying up jude’s room, making sure to be as quiet as possible. you didn’t want to risk waking him, especially considering how intoxicated he was. you didn’t want him to start rambling endlessly again.

after folding the last of the numerous t-shirts strewn on the floor, you closed the closet and were just about to leave his room when jude unexpectedly grabbed your wrist as you walked by the bed.

you were taken aback as jude quietly uttered, “don’t go..”

you couldn’t fathom how jude had sensed your intention to leave, but you knew he wouldn’t provide a clear explanation as he was about to drift off to sleep again.

“uhm, jude, i need to head home. it’s really late.” you whispered, trying to gently release his hold on your wrist, but was left astonished by his strength even in his drowsy state.

jude struggled to contain his emotions and actions, but he was certain about one thing - he wanted you to stay with him. he longed for your presence, not just tonight, but every night.

“don’t leave, please..” he murmured, his eyes opening to reveal a pleading gaze that instantly melted your hopeless heart.

jude was your achhilles’ heel, and you despised the power he held over you.

typically, you wouldn’t hesitate to share a bed with jude. it had occurred a few times during your friendship, like on vacations or when he traveled for football.

however, this time was different. because this time he confessed his feelings for you.

but, seeing him so vulnerable was agonizing, and it pained you physically.

in a moment of weakness, you gave in, sighing as you slipped under the covers. thhe warmth from both the blanket and jude’s body heat enveloped you.

he wasted no time in clinging to you and you made no effort to push him away, exuding excitement like a little boy who had just been given candy. your heart started racing, and heat crept up your cheeks. there was no way you could drift off to sleep in this state.

the room fell into a brief silence before jude broke it, his voice sounding more alert. “i wasn’t lying, you know... when i said i love you.”

his voice resonated with such sincerity that it tugged at your heart. as you lay on your side, your gaze fixated on the man who held your deepest affections. the intensity in his eyes implored you to trust him, to believe in his words.

curiosity compelled you to pose a question, testing the depths of his emotions. “when did you first realize that you loved me?” you inquired.

without hesitation, jude responded with unwavering honesty. “i’ve loved you for longer than i care to admit, y/n. perhaps it was that night we spent together in greece, or the time you told me i was the one you trusted most. but i was afraid of ruining what we had, or lose you, so i kept my feelings to myself.”

his heartfelt admission crashed over you like a powerful wave, leaving you stunned and overwhelmed. your cheeks flushed, and you found it difficult to maintain eye contact, fearing that your emotions would be too transparent.

for years, you had convinced yourself that jude would never view you in a romantic light.

he had been involved with other women, introducing you to so many that you had lost all hope for a romantic connection between the two of you.

the realization that jude reciprocated your feelings brought both a sense of bliss and trepidation. it was a mix of emotions - the joy of knowing that you no longer had to conceal your love, and the fear of what this newfound vulnerability might entail.

“you won’t ruin or lose me,” you assured him, reclaiming your gaze and locking it with his. determined to convey your reciprocal feelings, you boldly caressed his cheek, bridging the distance between your lips.

a sudden hitch in his breath revealed his anticipation and exhilaration coursing through his veins.

“you’ll always have me, jude.” you whispered before finally uniting your lips with his, cherishing the electrifying sensation that passed between you.

jude’s initial surprise quickly faded as he responded with equal fervor. he settled the rhythm of the kiss into a tranquil and unhurried rhythm, as if he wanted to savor every moment. it became evident that jude had no intention of letting you slip away after this. he was determined to make you his, forever.

the sensation of his lips against yours surpassed any expectations you had. it felt like pure bliss, surpassing even your wildest imagination. in this moment, you wished that time would stand still, never allowing you to return to a time before experiencing the euphoria of his kiss.

with a gentle separation, you finally uttered the words he longed to hear:

“i love you too.”

jude’s face broke into a triumphant grin, his heart leaping with joy. he had sensed your reciprocation from the moment your lips met, but he couldn’t contain his excitement.

lovingly pressing a kiss against the tip of your nose, he responded with a tender smile, “i know, baby. i know.”

[thinkinonsense]

Magnetic ──★ Logan Howlett x fem!oc: Chapter One

╰┈➤Summary: After years of torture, Daphne decides how she wants to spend the rest of her life; at the bottom of a lake. Out of nowhere, Logan pulls Daphne from the water and finds her help. Now they must navigate how to live with their decisions.

╰┈➤C/W: mentions of death, suicide, cursing, age gap, mild violence, issues with infertility, slight sexual themes. ᯓ★ mdni.ᐟ ᯓ★word count: 2.1k+

ᯓ★ reply to be added to the tag list <3 ᯓ★ spotify playlist link

ᯓ★ next chapter

✮⋆˙ At the bottom of the lake was cold water and silence. Years of running can bring you to the edge of a cliff. A lifetime of pain needs to be healed somehow and suddenly, life never felt so peaceful for Daphne.

Finally Free.

Until someone jumps in, wrapping his arms around her unconscious body; lifting her to the surface. Panic began to run through the man's veins as he laid her on the ground. Her heart is beating slowly which helps steady his own.

Daphne coughed up some water while blood rushed to the cut above her eyebrow. The man uses the sleeve of his brown flannel to soak up some of it.

Without a second thought, he scoops her up in his arms again; knowing exactly where he must take her.

──★

"Where did you find her, Logan?" Jean asked, watching over one of the monitors.

"Down by the lake," Logan answers, tapping his foot impatiently.

Daphne's body has barely regained consciousness before her mind starts racing as memories flood yet none of them answer her questions. Logan carefully runs his calloused fingers down her left leg, knee to ankle. 

"Charles was able to build a report on her. She's a mutant." Jean explained. "Her mutations can cause agonizing and illusionary pain, self-healing, telekinesis, and attraction control. She is quite powerful."

"Attraction control?" Logan tilts his head, never having heard of the ability. Jean bites back a smile.

"People find an attraction and gravitate towards her."

"Just sounds like an attractive woman." Logan shrugs, still not quite understanding.

"The government created her years ago; tortured and altered her as they pleased. Magneto was even after her for a while. He wanted to create a weapon out of her. She finally ran away a few months ago. I'm not sure what she was doing at the lake. Perhaps she accidentally fell in the water? I don't believe she was pushed or-"

"She was trying to kill herself," Logan states, eyes not leaving Daphne's soft features. "I saw her jump. I-I wasn't sure what she was doing at first and then..."

Jean places a hand on Logan's back, rubbing a smooth circle.

"She is going to be fine, Logan." She assures him.

He nods, trying not to worry anymore. Honestly, Logan wasn't sure why he was worried. In the past, he's felt protective over Rogue and his teammates but this woman was a stranger. It must've been due to the nature of her attempt to take her own life, he justifies.

Daphne's hair rests damp and curly against the table Logan laid her on when they arrived. On one of the monitor screens behind Logan, Jean notices a rapid change in breath, and the tables around them begin to shake. Before Logan could get his claws out, Jean and him hit the floor, groaning in pain. 

Charles had been right, the pain was agonizing. Jean felt as if someone was closing her throat; making her unable to focus and stop Daphne. Logan's pain was in his chest and abdomen. His claws break through the skin of his knuckles but he can't move.

"P-Please.." Jean begged, gasping for air. "Let us e-explain."

Reluctantly, Daphne releases them both. Logan and Jean noticed her glowing eyes as they shifted back to normal. Her top was ripped from when Logan tried to give her cpr and her pants were still soaked. She was shivering like a dog, Logan thought. Quickly, he shrugged off his flannel and offered it to her; an olive branch. Daphne knew better than to take offerings from handsome strangers. 

"Where am I?" She asked.

"Charles Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters," Jean answers, catching her breath. "You were found unconscious at the bottom of a lake. Do you remember any of that?"

Daphne's gaze lands on the floor. She remembered all of it.

"No." She lies. "Who are you?"

"I'm Jean and he is Logan." Daphne flickers her attention to both of them as Jean continues. "Logan pulled you from the lake."

Before Jean or Logan could ask her anything else, the doors opened revealing Professor Xavier. The man in the wheelchair rolls next to the table where Daphne sits. 

"Hello, Daphne. I am Charles Xavier." The older man says to her. "Can we talk?"

"A-About?" Her voice comes out broken and shaky. 

"What were you doing at the bottom of that lake?" 

In all truth, he already knew. He could see those last moments before she jumped and he knew the pain that lived inside of her. 

"I don't know." She lies again, this time more effortlessly. "I already told them. I don't know why I am here either."

Charles was aware that it would be difficult to get her to admit why she wanted to end her life. His heart ached for her. Similar to how it did for all the other children here. Carefully, he placed a hand over her own.

"You're safe now, dear." He says. "Get some rest." 

As he turned away, he ushered Logan to follow him; leaving Daphne and Jean alone. Jean helped Daphne change into a white tank top and pajama bottoms with the school's logo on the pocket. Now, that Daphne is awake, all of the cuts and bruises that adorn her body can heal themselves. Once dressed, Jean led her to one of the empty bedrooms. As they exited, Daphne snatched the flannel left on the table.

"Some of the older children are on a mission right now but they should all be back soon for dinner." Jean's voice echoed ever so slightly down the empty hallway. "It's quite incredible to watch them and their powers evolve."

Daphne couldn't help but mumble, "I wish I had something like this when I was a child."

"You're welcome to listen in on one of the classes if that interests you." Jean smiles. "There's a lot to learn about yourself and your powers."

Daphne nods as they approach one of the bedroom doors. Jean unlocks it and both women step inside. The room was comfortable, Daphne thought. A real bed and some privacy. She was lucky to get even three hours of sleep a night due to frequent nightmares or someone pulling her for testing. There were no glass cages or lingering eyes. 

──★

On the other side of the mansion, Logan sat in the chair by Charles' desk. He wasn't sure what the other man would have to say. Instead, his thoughts moved towards Daphne and how she must be doing; If she was still cold and shaking from the lake. 

"You did the right thing by bringing her here, Logan" Charles said, capturing Logan's attention again. "She's going to be fine."

"Why'd she do it?" Logan grunted. 

Charles sighs, unsure if he should tell Logan. 

"She was tortured and used as a weapon for decades, finally having made her escape from them she discovered that they stripped away her ability to have children too." 

Logan wasn't sure if he understood exactly. He knew that the government had done that to female mutants in the past to eliminate the rise of mutant children but this girl was still young. Why would she be worrying about having children right now?

"The attraction control was only further torment installed on her," Charles explains. "They trained her to cause pain knowing how gentle her heart is. She was forced to take the lives of people she wanted to help. She is afraid to live, that's why she jumped."

Logan exhaled sharply. He wanted nothing more than to rip apart the people who tortured her with his claws. Daphne's image appears in his head again; soft features and shivering hands. How peaceful she looked with her eyes closed; and beautiful. Logan brushed the last part as the attraction control got to him. 

"She is young. She can still live a full life, get married, and settle down if she wants." Logan said. 

She looks incredibly young, Logan thought when he first pulled her from the water. Old enough to live alone but not nearly as old as him. 

"Daphne believes that she is cursed. Everyone that she has ever caused pain to has left her."

"The pain was bearable."

Charles stares at Logan and then says, "If you think so, tell her that."

"It's not like that." Logan squints at him while lighting the cigar that was in his pocket. "She's too young."

"She stops aging in two years at thirty." Charles lets slip.

"She isn't even thirty?" Logan mumbles to himself. "Jesus."

"I can see how you found her and brought her here."

"You said it yourself, I was just doing the right thing."

Charles chuckles, letting it go. Logan gets up and leaves since they both know there are more important things to worry about.

──★

The mansion is dead silent. Odd considering how many people live here, Daphne thought while staring at the ceiling. All the children were in bed by nine while the adults roamed the halls until midnight. She wrapped herself up in the flannel and locked herself away shortly after Jean left her alone. Around six, Jean knocked on the door a few times to invite her to dinner but Daphne didn't move from under the warm beige sheats. She lay there for hours staring out the window or at the ceiling. Sometime at four in the morning, Daphne figured it was a safe time to make a run for it. This place was lovely and so were the people but she had already decided where she wanted to be. 

"Where do you think you're going, bub?" Logan's voice made Daphne spin on her heels to face him. Her gaze moves up his body he's dressed in a fitted white tank top and plaid pajama pants. It was difficult for her not to stare but she fought the urge. 

"Making your life easier and leaving," Daphne responds, reaching for the door when his hand lands on her wrist with a small pull. 

"I can't let you do that." 

"And why can't you?"

Daphne glared into his hazel eyes, trying to intimidate him but he only found it amusing. 

"Because I don't want to have to save your ass again."

Daphne couldn't help but laugh. Did he seriously think she cared about how this affects him?

"I don't need you to 'save my ass'."

"You sure did earlier." He cockily adds. "Plus they want you to stay."

"Why? So they can use me how they want and discard me when they are done? Look, I've done that whole thing before and it never ends well." Unknowingly to Daphne, her eyes glow maroon again, causing Logan's claws to peak out a bit in case.

"I get it. Trust me, I do but running won't help you either." He says, attempting to calm her before deciding to jump into action. "These people won't hurt you, Daphne."

Daphne's hand drops from the door, releasing his grip and her eyes roll back to their original shade of green.

"Are there any leftovers from dinner?" She asked, seeing one corner of his mouth curl up a little.

Logan led the way into the kitchen, pulling out the leftovers and a beer. Daphne made a plate and warmed it up while he pretended not to watch her. So many questions left unanswered about each other yet neither of them wants to be the first one to ask. It was silent while Daphne twisted spaghetti on a fork and Logan slowly drank his beer.

"Where are you from?" He asks, breaking the silence.

"Not entirely sure." She shrugs. "How old are you?"

 He didn't look much older, she thought. Maybe mid-thirties?

"What's it matter to you?" He answers in a rough voice, almost sounding irritated by the question.

"Curiosity."

"Curiosity killed the cat, ya know?"

"Good thing I'm no cat." Daphne smiles for the first time. Now he knew he had to give in.

Logan sighs, looking defeated. "I'm over 200 years old."

He moves on immediately, not giving Daphne any time to respond.

 "Parents?"

"None."

"None?"

"Nope. I'm nobody's daughter." 

Daphne avoids Logan's stare. He thinks back to his talk with Charles earlier about her life; isolated, tortured, and trained to cause damage. How lonely she must be.

The grandfather clock reads five forty-five. Everyone would be awake soon. Daphne had to ask this question while she had the chance.

"Why did you bother to save me in the first place?" She asks quietly, not looking up from her plate. 

Logan didn't answer for a minute but he watched her intensely. Something about being under his microscope intimidated me.

"You were dying." He states in a matter-of-fact tone.

"Regular people die every day. I bet you don't save all of them." The response flies out of her mouth before she can catch it.

"You aren't a regular person."

"Right," She sighs. "The mutant of it all."

Suddenly, she rises from the stool and places the plate in the sink, no longer feeling hungry. Logan calls after her twice but neither time does she turn back. Instead, she shut the bedroom door and crawled back into the bed alone again.

[wing-ed-thing]

… And the Beast (Yonji Vinsmoke x Reader) Chapter VI

Synopsis: You thought your little crush on Prince Yonji was a well-kept secret. Yonji is mean enough to exploit your eagerness to please in the face of his unrelenting cruelty; the thought of actually developing a soft spot for you never even crossed his mind.

Word Count: 7.4k

Tags/Warnings: Dark themes ahead, including graphic violence, gore, and Dark!Yonji. Please consult AO3 for more specific tags. Chapter ends with extreme fluff for balance.

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

Notes: Those with a sensitivity to war, POW situations, and gun violence are advised to proceed with caution. The gore tag applies to unnamed characters. MC is not harmed by Yonji.

If you would like to skip the graphic violence, please skip to the first ***. I will provide a summary of the section in the bottom notes.

The crying seemed as never-ending as the blackness, and every so often, you could hear pained moans and scuttling off in the distance. There was only the cold, wet concrete flooring below and the breathing of phantom bodies somewhere in the abyss. 

You weren’t sure how long you had been there. You hardly knew who surrounded you. Even when the lights came, with how delirious and exhausted, you weren’t even sure if the people crammed into your cell were the same people who had always been there. 

The golden light from the torches would pass through the dungeon, illuminating your surroundings. 

You had known the girl across the aisle when you were first taken. You had gone to school together. You thought she was from the class below you. She was even still wearing her uniform. You could see sharp cheekbones on her malnourished face. Too many of the girls you saw in the dungeon were wearing their school uniforms, and too many of them disappeared not soon after. 

A man beaten so severely that he couldn’t close his mouth took her place, and by the next time the lights passed, he too disappeared. And as time passed, it almost didn’t seem to matter who he was replaced by. It was always another frail, malnourished body with beaten flesh and barely any air in the lungs. 

Whenever you closed your eyes, you could see the mangled faces of the rebel forces that had been gunned down right in front of you and how they fell in the same spot they stood to defend their homes. And when you opened them again, there was nothing but darkness.

Small batches of prisoners were pulled out of the cells every few days. Or perhaps it was a few times a day. You couldn’t say for sure. The most visibly vulnerable were taken first: the youngest, the oldest, the visibly injured, and the ones the occupiers had stripped of their mobility aids. The ones making too much noise often went with them, along with those who tried to escape. 

And if the unfortunate few selected weren’t immediately beaten in the broad aisle between cells, they were taken upstairs. Their agonized cries could be heard through the ceiling, and they were never returned to the cells. 

It was a cruelty you never understood, even as the brutal swing of the baton struck your side. Boots crushed your fingers and frail flesh, making pain ring out across your body. It was a loud, dull ache that wormed under your skin, popping and cracking like a ringing alarm. 

You curled the best you could in the face of the barrage of hits. You could feel their impact in your bones. The sting and force of them were nowhere near as gut-wrenching as the sheer velocity of the strikes as solid met soft.

Real adrenaline had long stopped coursing through you. You remained still and weak, hardly able to properly defend yourself as you lay on the floor. A range of sensations melded together simultaneously, disrupting your thoughts and scrambling your head. 

It all just hurt. The pain of the blows eclipsed the sensation of the hits that came before, creating a dull numbness.

It hurt, and you wanted it to stop.

You didn’t want to get even. You didn’t want to fight. You just wanted the pain to stop. And yet, a tight, fearful pit welled in your chest, leaving little room for flaming anger. You were too tired for anything more than a wish. Too tired, too weak. Even at full health, you weren’t sure you had it in you to take revenge even if you wanted to. 

The thought of it flashed across your mind, abstractly and incoherently. It simply occurred to you between kicks like a creeping fog over your head. 

Fight… back…?

Fight back…?

Fight back? 

Fight back?

You almost frowned to yourself in the midst of it all. No, doing such a thing wasn’t quite in your nature. It wasn’t quite in your nature to harm others, even if you were the one hurt first. You weren’t even sure what it would look like.

Your muscles were too frail to grab the baton and wrestle it away. Your knees shook too nervously, even on a good day, to pick yourself up and stand your ground, and your voice was far too quiet to shout. And even if you found it in yourself to do any of those things, then what?

Your limbs were intact, and so were your dirty clothes. That’s what mattered. 

And just as you began to resign yourself, the dungeon flooded with light. The ground below you shook, jerking your body with terrifyingly powerful, godly force. White light flooded the room, and at that moment, you thought you died. 

The light came with a bang, followed by several other explosions and crashing sounds all around you. Each one shook the ground. You could feel debris falling all around you, yet the gust of open-air made you want to sit up and open your eyes. 

You cracked them open, but the brightness of the light made you scrunch them closed, no matter how hard you fought. You cast your closed gaze down, crawling to your knees and huddling your face in the crook of your elbow.  

The sunlight was intense, and the chaotic movement around you kept you crouched close to the ground. Cries and frantic screams filled the air as a gust of air passed. You opened your eyes under the protection of your arm, blinking a few times as your lids squeezed shut before you batted your lashes again. You didn’t know when the last time you saw sunlight was.

You raised your head, the details of your surroundings coming into focus. Your foot moved forward so that you were crouched on one knee, ready to stand. You caught a glimpse of black and green before bowing your head again as the wind swirled around you. It whistled, blowing past your hair and blinding your ears. 

Someone ran past you, tripping as their knee met your shoulder. You were forced back, falling to the ground as you tried to catch yourself. 

Your eyes shot open by instinct, only to find the dungeon completely leveled. The walls had collapsed, leaving little more than empty holding cells and chunks of concrete and metal. The tops of them appeared to have been almost cut, leaving them uniform in shape. 

You spotted to top of the facility in the distance. It was larger than you ever could have imagined. 

You stood, clutching your worst injury as prisoners who could run ran. You trudged forward in direct opposition to the current, bumping into countless people as you went. 

Limbs stuck out from under the fallen debris. Blood seeped into the uneven concrete that had cracked during what you had assumed was an explosion. The noise around you sounded deafening, yet you couldn’t hear a thing. Something dragged you forward, and when you least expected it, the crowd completely vanished.

You broke through, stumbling into an open space. A bloodied baton sat at your feet. A stream of crimson-red spatter stained the ground. You could barely focus on the vibrant color of it as you followed it with your eyes to the sound of cracking upon wet impact. 

It was a person. Two people technically, you supposed. Neither of them looked much like people. 

It was a boy, you quickly gathered. He looked like something out of the future, like a character out of one of the comics you used to read. Perhaps he was a revolutionary. A dark cape cloaked his shoulders. His hair was a color you had never seen before: a vibrant lime green. You could hardly remember what he looked like that day, but you could probably remember every inch of his gloves. 

His knuckles were stained all shades of dark red and whaled into the man under him. It took you a moment to realize it was a man. You could tell only by the hand that rattled near the caped boy’s knee with every floor-shaking strike of his fist and the guard uniform you had been so accustomed to seeing.

His punches made a terrible sound as if he were punching into a pie filled with walnut shells. The guard’s face had wholly caved in. The entire front of his face was wet, red, and spilling out over his ears. It was an unbelievable gore. The man was already dead, and yet the figure on top of him kept on punching.

Wham! Crunch. Splat.

Wham! Squish.

Blood flew everywhere. The cracking of bones rang in your ears. It was an unbelievable gore, and yet, you couldn’t look away. The bodies of the other soldiers littered what used to be the isle between the cells. Crushed teeth. Sunken chests. Blunt force damage you didn’t even think a bear could replicate. 

“What are you lookin’ at?”

You had zoned out, and the caped boy in front of you had risen to stand. He had one booted foot on the torso of the faceless corpse. Tiny spatters of blood marred his pale face. They littered his entire body, the tails of the spatter marks pointing outward. He was tall, hulking, and massive for his young features. He wiped his hand across his cheek, leaving a thick, scarlet stain in his wake. His eyes were still wide, and his grin stretched across his lips from the good work he had just done.

He couldn’t have been much older than you.

And just behind him, one of the guards picked his head off the ground. You thought you recognized him as the soldier from earlier who carried the baton. His arm moved forward, dragging his body slowly across the broken concrete below. You didn’t even have time to be fearful of the beast in front of you, too distracted by the movement in your haze state as the guard’s hand slowly reached forward to the rifle that sat on the ground. 

Your lips parted, but no words came out. They stalled in your throat as you held out a palm, your body moving faster than your voice. Your eyes met the caped boy’s gaze. 

You tried to warn him without reason. You wanted to tell him against your better judgment, in the face of his blood-stained gloves as he stood on the body of the man he had just brutalized with nothing but his fists. 

And yet…

The rifle went off with a bang. 

It nearly sent you tumbling back toward the ground.

BANG!

You let out a loud gasp of surprise, the ugly-sounding wind squeaking in your throat as you flinched back. The adrenaline was still pumping through your veins as you heard a panging sound. The explosion of gore you thought would fly toward you never came.

BANG!... Pang…

You had brought one arm to shield your head, and as you slowly emerged, your opposite hand was still pointing toward the soldier on the ground. Your single, extended index finger tremored violently even as you began to look up. 

The caped boy stood tall exactly where he had been before, seeming to be completely intact despite the deep scowl that contorted his face. He turned on his heel. The soldier on the ground’s eyes went wide as he approached. The soldier cocked the gun up, moving to take another shot before the rifle was wrenched out of his hand. 

The caped boy threw it to the ground behind him. The metal had a distinct impression where his fingers were, warping the metal and making the weapon unusable. He cocked back his fist. The soldier’s squirming and pleads did little to prevent the powerful punch that sank into his head at a velocity unseen. 

The rest of the body flew up at the impact. The limbs slammed back down against the ground. A terrible crunching sound reverberated through the air. And just like before, the caped figure began whaling on the corpse below, a broad grin on his lips. 

You watched as the punches flew, continuing to produce terrible noises as you clutched your own injuries. Your thoughts came to your foggy mind like an abstract cloud. The stinging of the large gash on your lip throbbed, a subtle reminder of what had happened before this green beast came. You could feel the breeze against your back where your shirt had been torn. You didn’t even know how long it had been like that. The breeze and the sharp pain in your gut reminded you of what could have happened.

It had to have been the revolutionary army. No one else could have this much strength, let alone use it to save your poor country.

You watched as he continued to brutalize the men who used to be your captors. You kept your eyes on him like watching someone else devour a delicious meal.

With every punch, your much smaller arms tensed. 

Brutality might not have been in your nature, but it was in his. 

After a short time, he seemed to grow bored. When he stood, he incidentally met your eye. He had a narrow gaze and expressive eyes that could widen and narrow with feral expression. His nose crinkled right above sneering lips, and his curled eyebrows scrunched his forehead. 

He was self-satisfied and covered in blood that wasn’t his own. The body of the man he just murdered lay popped open on the ground.

You were pretty sure you fell in love right there.

He hardly regarded you much more as he began to trudge in the other direction. You ran after him.

“Wait!” you yelled as loudly as your weak lungs could. You stumbled on the broken terrain. 

The boy continued a few steps longer before he finally turned. He looked upon you with disgust and acute confusion. You ran up to him, heaving at the first laborious exercise you had done in what felt like forever. 

“How do I join?” you cried. 

He looked you up and down and let out a tremendous laugh. 

“HAHAHAHA! Yeah, right!” His boots ignited with a blue flame, and just like that, he was gone.

*** Graphic content is finished, gun violence continues in scene II

An unfamiliar ship was at the dock, so you ran for the coast. It had to be the ship he came from. You could see the dark spiral towers in the distance, and it seemed like they never got closer, no matter how fast you ran. Still, you continued, pumping your legs as fast as they would go with your eyes only in one direction. 

The country had been plunged into utter anarchy. White-clad soldiers combed through the countryside with high-tech rifles, gunning down your navy-blue uniformed oppressors on sight. You gasped, managing to slide behind a piece of broken wall. A bullet ricocheted off the brick before the next one struck a soldier behind you.

Your passage was suspiciously easy, despite the bullets flying across the terrain. You continued to run, and the white-uniformed soldiers allowed you to pass through the war zone. They ignored you almost outright, focusing only on the opposing forces. You moved from solid fixture to solid fixture, only running larger distances when you gained cover from the foreign soldiers through happenstance. 

Things became less chaotic as you made your way into the trees. The firefight seemed to be behind you. Explosions sounded somewhere in the distance, always accompanied by the sound of gunfire. Pop, pop, pop. Pop, pop, pop. 

A few patrols draped over bushes and branches and slumped at the bases of trees, but the white-uniformed forces appeared to have driven the occupying troops back. Not a single soul stood out among the stretch of woods. The cone-shaped turrets only grew more prominent as you ran.

You emerged from the tree line, exploding from it with an unstopped velocity. You bounded through the trees, trying to skid to a stop before tumbling over. A line of white-uniformed soldiers drew their weapons, standing militantly and ready to attack at a moment’s notice. 

  A tall man was on the dock with two far smaller figures in tow. They turned at the noise, each staring as you picked your upper body off the ground. The soldiers surrounded you swiftly, ordering you not to move farther.

“A civilian?” the boy near the tall man remarked plainly. He was clad in red from head to foot. Like the green, caped figure before, he didn’t seem much older or younger than you.

“I want to join!” you cried. The girl, who also stood near the tall man, quirked a slender brow. “The revolutionary army’s always looking for new recruits, aren’t you? I want to join! Please put me to work or something, anything! Just take me with you!”

No one said a word for a moment. The sea breeze was a foreign sensation to your skin, and the mild heat from the full sun above felt blazing, almost as fiery as the three sets of eyes trained on you.

The tall man’s mouth opened to speak.

***

“Hey, hey.” 

It was blurry when you opened your eyes, and nearly jumped when you saw Yonji standing over you. You shot up, your spine cracking from the stiffness of the awkward position in which you had somehow dozed asleep. He took a step back, hands on his hips and lips tugged downward in acute annoyance. 

You swung your legs over the edge of your chair. The chandelier in the center of the ceiling lighted the library. You hadn’t even noticed Yonji flicking it on when he entered the room. You must’ve been fast asleep and out long enough for the sky outside to turn pitch black. You supposed it was cloudy; not a single star shone in the distance. 

You immediately stood and bowed, your mind a bit fuzzy from sleep. 

“I apologize for my negligence, Prince Yonji. How may I serve you?” You looked at him, trying to hide how you blinked in fatigue. But Yonji’s eyes acutely narrowed, and you knew nothing was getting past him. 

“How long have you been passed out?”

“I’m sorry; I’m not sure,” you admitted, glancing off. “I definitely started organizing the stock back onto the shelves—” 

Yonji let out a loud laugh.

“You took a fat catnap, huh? I should punish you for that one. Make you walk a plank or some shit,” he barked.

Yonji turned and glanced at the table, where the books you had bought earlier were arranged neatly based on some system he didn’t care to learn. The compilation appeared smaller since he’d last seen it by a negligible margin, but seeing one of the spines on the shelf behind the table deepened his frown. You followed his gaze as it made a quick sweep across the area around you.

“I’m gone for the rest of the afternoon and evening, and you haven’t even read any of them?” Yonji scoffed. His thick arms coiled across his chest. It took you a moment to piece together what he was talking about.

“I wanted to organize the new resources onto the shelves,” you tried to explain. “To keep things organized. If the way they’ve been shelved displeases you, I can go back and—”

Yonji’s head snapped toward you, his weight shifting as he leaned slightly forward.

“I dropped a fuck ton of cash for you to read ‘em, and you’ve been down here all day passed out on the job,” he huffed with a roll of his eyes. And when they finally settled on yours, you couldn’t help but notice the second his eyes widened. It was a millisecond, and the distance his brows retreated his eyelids must’ve been the most subtle of distances before he tore his gaze away in favor of some other part of the library. His lips pursed in a straight line. 

Yonji turned around, his shoulders inflating as he breathed in. 

“You slept through the entire evening, huh?” he mused with a sigh. “What happened to the food you brought back with you?” 

Yonji had ordered so many dishes at brunch that there was too much for you to eat in one sitting. There was more than you could probably eat in several sittings, but you brought it back as leftovers when you came back to the ship.

“It’s in the fridge,” you said in a quiet voice.

“Downstairs?”

“Yes, Prince Yonji.”

He turned, making an exaggerated wave as he gestured you toward the door. 

“C’mon, what are you waiting for?” Yonji grumbled, already growing impatient as you skidded forward to obey his unspoken order. You bounced out into the hallway as Yonji assumed the lead.

“If I knew you’d want the leftovers as a late-night snack, I would have given them to you, Prince Yonji,” you affirmed, not before walking directly into Yonji’s back. He had stopped in the middle of the hall, pivoting with narrowed eyes and a scrunched-up nose. He scrutinized you for a second.

“Aren’t you supposed to be smart?” he sneered, sliding his arm around your shoulders to push you forward by the palm splayed out between your shoulder blades. 

He ushered you out of the southern tower, and the double doors shut behind you. 

***

The entrance below deck was in an unfortunate part of the snail and consisted of a single set of cellar doors leading down a short stairwell. There was an entrance through the shell from where the snail was captained, but most domestic staff came for meals and to their quarters from the heavy cellar doors. 

Yonji looked out of place sitting at the kitchen island. A harsh, rectangular light hung down to illuminate the counter space making you feel like you were in an odd dream. The light cast down on him, saturating Yonji in comparison to the darkness of the rest of the floor. 

You heated some of the leftover food, arranging it neatly on the plate. You weren’t much of a cook; you definitely couldn’t plate food as nicely as Cosette, but you did what you deemed acceptable before placing the plate across the counter in front of Yonji. You reached into the top drawer at the corner of the kitchen space to pluck out a few utensils before delicately placing them in front of him.

Yonji, for his status, never seemed like the type to ever want to step foot in any servant corridor. And yet, he not only sought you out in the central kitchen, but now he sat below deck in the archival snail. You just assumed that Yonji’s appetite far surpassed pickiness when it came to kitchens. 

He moved the plate to the side before he stood, reaching across the counter to the drawer of utensils. Yonji was just barely able to pinch the knob between his fingers to flick it back open. He reached farther, now partially on the counter in front of him as he plucked out a fork and slapped it on the space in front of you before retreating to his stool. 

You looked at it as it sat, placed haphazardly in front of you, and then to Yonji. He sat with his cheek in his palm, studying the other fixtures around the open floor. The plate had been pushed toward you.

“Don’t you gotta test it for poison or something?” he grumbled. You let out a light laugh.

“Considering that this was lunch from earlier, I think you’re safe from poisons, Prince Yonji,” you hummed, leaning against the side of the counter. Just the corner separated you. 

“Yonji,” he spoke. His voice grew just a touch softer despite his almost annoyed and resigned tone. He dug his fork into the food on the plate. “Call me Yonji when we’re alone.”

Your eyes flickered around you. The kitchen and the darkness around you were as still as when you retreated down the stairs. The domestic crew had gone to bed long ago, and those piloting the ship and on watch were far away in their respective stations. 

“I thought you said I was only allowed to call you that outside Germa.”

“I’m telling you now,” he spoke with his mouth full, but his words remained soft. He swallowed, but it wasn’t the gulp that made you feel like he seemed hesitant. “That you can call me Yonji when it’s just us.” His eyes met yours, and for once, his face was devoid of scrutiny. 

The skin around his forehead and nose, which was typically scrunched up in annoyance, was relaxed and smooth. His eyes were naturally wide, round, and a brown so dark that they were almost black. His lips sat in a neutral line. A genuine-looking expression looked out of place on him, just like he appeared out of place in the servant’s kitchen.

You held his gaze, nodding slowly as you spoke,

“When it’s just us,” you said, “You want me to call you Yonji.”

You had to pause before you spoke his name. You had called him by his name before, and truly there was nothing different about addressing him when his name happened to have the word “Prince” in front of it. And yet, the word came out like a foreign object, one that you had to contort your lips and tongue for like blowing the word into a bubble. 

“Yeah, and don’t—”

“Don’t tell anyone, or you’ll gut me,” you said, and the words took up more space in the air than either of you had anticipated. They expanded softly, fluttering out into the darkness with a mutually unspoken sense of what resembled reluctance.

“Yeah,” he said singularly. Yonji’s shoulders seemed to deflate as he gingerly held your gaze, and the kitchen was quiet. 

Yonji tore his stare away first, pushing the plate toward you again. He took another piece with his fork and swiftly plopped a bite into his mouth.

“Weren’t you in the middle of checking this for poison or something?”

You let out a light laugh, leaning on the side of the counter as you dug your fork into your first bite. You stood like that in relative silence, eating from the same plate. Your body almost seemed to shake, tingling with something akin to anxiety as you avoided Yonji’s eye. 

Moments of silence weren’t foreign to you, and you could recall several times you sat with Yonji in them relatively comfortably, but something about this one was different. You had been serving him for quite some time. You were sure that all royalty let up with the formalities with their lead attendants. But as your gaze glazed as you stared at your fork, a new, mixed feeling began to bubble up in your chest. 

“It’s a shame… ya’ know?” Yonji’s voice snapped you away from a potential rabbit hole of thoughts. When you looked at his face, Yonji was also fixated on the plate, his mind somewhere else as he spoke. You supposed that the both of you were a bit lost. “I, uh… I tried looking for your book. Like at the port… and, uh… I didn’t see it.”

The prongs of his fork scratched against the near-empty plate, toying with a bit of food residue. You set yours down neatly. There was one bite left.

“What book?”

“The one my brother had you toss. I know you like to read it after dinner,” Yonji said. He also set his fork down, crossing his ankles under the stool before coiling his arms across his chest. He leaned against the counter, gaze cast downward. “I thought I would be able to find it.”

Yonji looked out of place once again. His hulking form was hunched over, and his forehead was knitted in acute ponderance. You let a small smile grace your lips as your eyes averted to somewhere in the darkness. The actual weight of his words didn’t hit you. 

“That’s okay, Pr—Yonji.”

“You might think it’s fine, but I’m pissed about it.” Yonji’s shoulders straightened out suddenly as he sat up and slammed his hand down on the counter. The noise shook the surface with a singular bang, rattling the plate and utensils. Your eyes immediately darted around the blackness, wondering if any of the domestic crew was roused. “Leave it to Ichiji to be all business.”

“Prince, uh, I mean, Yonji,” you hummed nervously, drawing little circles on the countertop with your nail. He regarded you with a raised brow. “About the book, I, uh, Master Ichiji only said that it didn’t belong in the library, so I, um, put it not in the library.” 

You met his dark irises guiltily, contrary to the widened expression of pride plastered over Yonji’s face. He shifted his weight to lean forward, head in his palm as a wide grin contorted his lips.

“You little sneak—”

“I apologize for my indiscretion.”

— “You’re brilliant! HA! You really are my aid after all!” Yonji shot back, slamming his hand on the counter again before he stood. “C’mon, I wanna know where you stashed it—”

— “It’s in my quarters.”—

“Well, that shouldn’t be too much of a problem. We’re already below deck, aren’t we?” Yonji was already tugging you in a random direction, despite now knowing his way around. You absentmindedly placed your hand over his, stopping short as he turned to question you. 

“About that…” You glanced toward the stairs. “My quarters are actually upstairs.” 

Yonji’s face scrunched with visible confusion. 

“Upstairs?” he questioned rudely. “There’s nothing up there but books, isn’t there?”

His hand was still wrapped around your wrist, but he allowed you to slip your hand from his grasp to grab his fingers. You ushered him to the stairs leading above deck. 

“I’ll show you.”

***

While most of the domestic staff had their designated areas below deck, you had made your space in the tallest room of the southern library. Out of the cellar doors, through the main doors to the library, past the main chamber, and all the way up a winding flight of stairs, the ship rocked below you. You held onto a banister as you climbed. 

The staircase wound up several flights, growing warmer as you ascended. 

“Oh shit!” The snail hit a large wave, causing the whole ship to rumble and shake. You slipped on the stair you were on, crashing back-first into Yonji’s chest. One arm instinctively wrapped around you, holding you firmly as his other hand clutched the banister. Yonji’s shoulder smushed against the wall as the ship creaked. 

Every part of him was sturdy, from the arm that crossed completely from your shoulder to the other to the mass of muscle that was his chest that you could feel on your back. The motion was instinctual but one that had taken you aback as you dared consider the movement professional. 

Although, perhaps you shouldn’t have been surprised. Considering Yonji’s line of work, you were sure that keeping you from falling down some stairs was the least exciting save he’d ever performed. It made you wonder how many people Yonji had served as a bodyguard for. He had undoubtedly used you for target practice a fair number of times, but you had never truly seen Yonji in action.

Only when the ship began to settle did he slowly release you, positioning himself behind you to ensure you wouldn’t tumble off. 

“You really do this every night?” he grumbled. 

“You get used to it!” you laughed, quickly bounding up the stairs ahead with your hand on the railing. 

The top of the turret was exceptionally tiny, consisting of one circular room partially split into seven sections by shelving. The shelves jutted out from the walls, each just a wingspan in width, separating the limited space into little nooks. Old files sat amongst them, each set wired or corded in place so as to not be disturbed by the shifting waves. 

You took off your shoes, placing them to the side, and to your surprise, Yonji did the same.

Two shelves extended out of the wall directly ahead at a diagonal angle. One of the diagonal shelves and a straight one that branched out horizontally from the left-hand wall created a corner nook at the far end of the room. You quickly disappeared into it. 

Yonji followed. The movement of the waves was more intense upstairs, and yet the solid foundation of the turret mitigated a significant portion of the violent bobbing. As Yonji walked across the short room, he couldn’t help but note in acute astonishment how calm it was. A cool breeze blew from the section you disappeared into. 

You nearly bumped into Yonji as you emerged with the book, but the missing library book of fairy tales was far from Yonji’s focus. He stood with his hands on the two adjacent bookshelves staring into the corner at the little space you had made for yourself. A tiny mat sat on the ground with neat sheets and a pillow. It took up a majority of the space. From what Yonji could see, you hardly had any personal effects. A few items sat tucked amongst the corded-up files. An open window sat to the left on the wall. It was a good-sized window, letting in the cool evening breeze. 

“Here’s the book you wanted,” you said, growing wary when Yonji didn’t respond. He didn’t look at you, keeping his eyes only on the space behind you. You awkwardly shifted, a subtle heat rising to your skin as you sheepishly spoke, “Master Ichiji told me that it didn’t belong in the library, but he didn’t say anything about the annex.” You laughed lightly. 

“This is where you live?” Yonji just about gasped breathlessly. His voice was laced with complete and utter disbelief as he pushed forward, knocking you back as he stepped into what amounted to your room. It barely had room for the both of you to stand, something that Yonji must’ve picked up on quickly as he unceremoniously plopped himself down on your bed. He hit the mat with a thump.

“Ow,” he grumbled. The force at which he dropped wasn’t kind to him in the face of your mat, which had very little cushion to it. “No wonder you can knock out on that chair downstairs. This thing is like a rock.”

“I would’ve thought you’ve experienced worse on the field.”

“Well, yeah, but I can still enjoy a comfy bed, you know?” he snorted, shifting his weight to get situated as he sat. He placed your pillow behind his back as he leaned against the stone wall, a visible scowl on his face. 

The ship hit a large wave head-on, and you were thrown forward before you could catch yourself. For a second time that night, Yonji caught you, but not before letting your nose smack into his solid chest first. You were sure you broke it. 

“Whoa there! How the hell do you live up here?” Yonji laughed as you clutched your nose. It felt intact, and no blood was running from it from what you could feel. “I think sleeping below deck might be less of a hassle. Keep you in one piece, you know? I can’t have my only aid tripping down some stairs and dyin’ on me.”

You sat on the cot on your knees between Yonji’s thighs, your heels propping you up as his touch slowly retracted from you. The book was still clutched close to your chest. Yonji sat up a bit to take it from your grasp. Even despite his height, Yonji could barely see over the windowsill. 

“I made my home up here before things were as established as they are downstairs. I like it up here anyway.” 

Yonji regarded the book in his hands, thumbing through the pages in quiet thought.

“Before things were established downstairs?” he repeated with a scrunch of his lip. “When did you come here again?”

“Probably not important.”

“Probably.” 

Yonji let the mass of pages run over his thumb, and when he reached the end, he combed through the book another time. Your bookmark was missing from the compilation. 

You sat before him, watching as he buried himself further in thought. Moonlight passed through the window above, casting your little nook in blue light. You reached toward one of the lower shelves to flicker on an electric lamp. It was a tiny bulb that gave off a warm glow, contrasting the cool pigments of the night with an inviting orange color. 

Your eyes met Yonji’s in the lantern light. 

His eyes were round, just like they were in the kitchen. And a beat passed where the bobbing of the ship seemed to still, and the silence around you became deafening. Yonji lowered the book to his lap, the pages flipped to a familiar one. His finger held the spot as if he were afraid to lose it. 

Your eyes flickered to the open page and then to his stark gaze. 

“Yonji?” you called softly, the word falling from your lips smoother than it ever had before. Yonji appeared equally taken aback, a glint of something sparking in his dark irises.

“Yeah?” he whispered. 

You didn’t know what to say next. 

There hadn’t been anything you wanted to say. 

You had just wanted to say his name.

“How did you know I read this after dinner?” You glanced away from him to the open pages. Their familiarity once again struck you. The pages were arranged almost exactly where you left them. And when you looked back to Yonji, you could catch the tail end of him following your gaze. 

He moved to close the book, and in a moment without thought, you moved forward to place your hand between the pages. You kelt on all fours, one hand splayed across the open book in his lap while your opposite grasp planted in the sheets at Yonji’s side. 

“Wait.” The word slipped from your mouth. 

And he did. Yonji said nothing as he stared forward in acute shock. His lips parted to speak, but for once, Yonji closed them.

You tugged at the book, only feeling a second of opposition before Yonji quietly relinquished it to you. 

You read the page number and heading and skimmed a few paragraphs. It was exactly what you thought. 

“Do you want to tell me about it?”

Your gaze wavered, unsure of whether you should look at Yonji directly. He sat stiffly in your periphery. You could see the tension in his shoulders. The way his arms crossed over his chest spoke enough to you as he seemed to morph into the wall.

“Just read.” 

His voice was as gruff as usual, but his words came out quietly, almost like a plead. 

There was a moment of shifting as Yonji moved to the side. You scooted in next to him, pressing the back of your shoulder to the cold stone wall. You curled, one knee over the other, as you brought the book into your lap. Yonji also turned his shoulder a bit to the side, pivoting his body to face toward yours. 

And you did are you were told; you read. You read from where you had left off with the cook’s children— you hadn’t read to them for quite some time now— until the end of the story. They were relatively short, and when you reached the end, you looked to Yonji for approval. 

He stared off somewhere amongst the files, and with little indication of his thoughts, you started on the next story. 

You read deep into the night, occasionally shifting on your mat that wasn’t good for lounging. And at some point, you found Yonji’s head resting in your lap while you splayed your book out over the left side of his chest. You leaned a bit to the side, distributing the weight of him over your side-saddled thighs as your forearm splayed diagonally over his torso. 

You could feel as he breathed, steadily in and out, and every intake of breath that you took at the start of a new sentence inflated your side against his. 

You read until your voice was hoarse. But even as you began to fizzle out, Yonji remained silent. His eyes had closed a bit ago. You weren’t even sure he was awake. His head was heavy, but you didn’t mind.

You closed the book, placing it to the side. The little reading light was too far to reach with your legs pinned down. Your back pressed against the pillow Yonji had relinquished, reinforcing the little nest of blankets you amassed. You curled, slumping back and letting your head rest. 

You didn’t know how much time passed before you began to drift to sleep…

“Our mom used to read those to us.” 

Yonji’s voice cut through the silence, waking your tired mind. Maybe you had been sleeping for longer than you thought. Your reading light had timed out, leaving the nook in relative darkness, only interrupted by the bluish glow of the night that cast through the window. 

You stirred with a hum, only partially processing your surroundings. 

“Well, not really us, I guess. I had this older brother, like, years ago… He and Reiju would visit Mom when we were all really little, and she’d read these stories,” Yonji said. You hummed, just barely processing what he was saying. “I think we, uh—like me, Ichiji, and Niji— decided we were too cool for it, but, uh… we’d always sit in the hall outside to listen. We never said a word about it…”

The ship continued to rock on the waves. The evening conditions were calm, creating a lull perfect for sleeping. You could feel the sea waver in your bones, and Yonji’s words filled your ears.

“Do you miss her?” you asked. Your mouth felt stale from stillness, like wrenching open a door after it had been shut for a long time. 

“I don’t think so,” Yonji admitted, letting his words fizzle out in the stillness of the atmosphere. “I don’t remember her too much. Mom was kinda someone who was just there.” You felt his shoulders shift to accent his words. 

“I’m sorry.”

You didn’t know what else to say.

”Nothin’ to be sorry about.”

***

It was warm. The air around you was acutely humid, and the sun beams had reached near burning. They woke you up unceremoniously and ungracefully as you peeled your eyes awake. Your muscles were heavy, pressure laced through your limbs from sleeping awkwardly on them for the entire night. But the unease in your body was sidelined by the tight tension wrapped around your throat. 

Yonji lay behind you, sound asleep with his elbow wrapped around your throat, functionally trapping you in a headlock. He buried his face in the top of your hair, his large form almost enveloping you as he curled around you. 

A deep sense of dread struck the center of your chest and reverberated throughout your entire body. You struggled to release yourself from his grasp but to no avail. If anything, the more you struggled, the tighter his arm seemed to coil around your neck. You tapped his forearm, grasping his wrist as you tried to shake him.

“Prince Yonji! Prince Yonji!” 

He hardly stirred, groaning something under his breath as he buried himself deeper in your hair.

“Prince Yonji, you’re late for breakfast!”

Breakfast. That was the word that caused Yonji to immediately shoot up, only to be met with a face full of sunbeams. He flinched at the sudden light, shielding his eyes. The sun was far higher in the sky than it had ever been when you woke him up to shoo him off to breakfast. 

“Ah, shit!”

Yonji scrambled up, and it was only then that you noticed that Yonji had lost his shirt somewhere over the course of the night. You rifled through the messy sheets before finding it kicked to the bottom of the bed. You hardly said anything to each other while you unceremoniously threw it to him as he headed out of your nook. Yonji caught it without having to look, throwing it over his shoulders before bolting down the stairs. 

Thank you to all who liked, reblogged, followed, and supported. Your support means so much and is greatly appreciated.

Summary of scene I: MC is a prisoner taken during the country's revolution where they are held in captivity for torture/beatings at the hands of a cruel, unnamed occupier. Yonji is the one to destroy the facility and takes great pleasure in brutally mutilating the occupiers who beat MC. MC has always had a softer nature, and felt a strong sense of gratitude to Yonji, who was able to fight cruelly when MC never perceived being able to do such a thing on their own.

Summary of scene 1 & 2: (cont.) MC runs through a war torn battlefield to a Germa ship at the port. Thinking they're the revolutionary army, they beg Judge to let them join. Young Ichiji and Reiju witness this. The answer given is not shown before MC wakes up from their flashback.

Author's notes: It's the "roll credits" chapter! Not in the sense that it's the last chapter, but that I have finally dropped the title in the story hahahaha. For once, I don't have the next chapter queued up, but I still appreciate any support. I will try to have things ready for our usual 100 combined likes and reblogs, but give me a little wiggle room!

Part I Part II Part III Part IV Part V Part VI

[writingastory]

[01] - A Cold Prison

— A multi-chapter story based on Zayne's myth "Tower of Secrets".

Synopsis: Zayne, a celebrated surgeon, is haunted by a past of love and sacrifice. As his powers dare to consume him, the woman he’s eternally bound to starts to uncover the truth of their fated connection.

Pairing: Zayne x fem!reader (not MC -> Evol: Time Distortion)

Genre: (Former) Foreseer Zayne AU, Multiple timelines/Reincarnation

Warnings: Spoilers, canonical violence and pain, angst, fighting, eventual fluff

"Zayne? Are you listening?"

Your voice rang through the apartment like a soft melody, carried by the warm steam from the hot, long shower you just took. "Zaynie~!"

Chuckling, you wrapped a towel around your frame and stepped out of the bathroom. The large living room was illuminated by a gentle glow from the fire crackling away in the fireplace. Through the floor-length windows, you cold see the violent blizzard raging outside, tinting the landscape in greys and whites.

Zayne sat in his reading corner, in a large arm chair right by the windows, his gaze fixed on the outside world. The lamp next to him was turned off; he looked like a shadow, brooding and lifeless.

Memories pushed their way back into his mind; memories that he had locked away so carefully and securely, breaking out of their prisons. A deadly blizzard capturing him, his home crumbling underneath his feet, his love carried away by the wind. 'Don't cry. Promise me you won't cry anymore.' There she laid, amongst the jasmine flowers, while ice pierced his body, the cold creeping through his flesh, suffocating him-

"Zayne?"

Your voice was soft, your hand gently coming up to squeeze his shoulder. He startled out of his thoughts, looking up at you with wide eyes. "Yes, love?" He sounded almost robotic as he willed those gruesome memories back into the dark, to be lost and forgotten. "What is it?"

Frowning, you tilted your head slightly as you looked at him. Letting go of his shoulder, you turned on the lamp next to him with a soft click.

"Are you okay?" You whispered after a few long moments of silence, kneeling in front of him. There they were. These beautiful eyes that he fell in love with all those centuries ago, staring up at him, full of sadness and concern.

"I'm okay," he answered, cupping your cheeks gently. Zayne constantly had to remind himself that you were real. You were there, with him. And every time he got used to it, every single time he felt at ease and comfortable, Astra found a way to remind him how fleeting the moment was, how limited your time together. Just like he did now. Zayne could feel him in the blizzard, divine eyes watching his every step, all the time. It never stopped.

"Ah, Zayne...!" you winced, pulling away from him suddenly, holding your cheek. "Your Evol..."

He looked down at his hands, icy crystals spreading over his palms slowly. It was happening again. He grunted in pain clenching his hands to fists.

"I-"

The words got stuck in his throat as a sharp pain ripped through his chest. Ice rose up his neck, growing over his jaw. You gasped quietly. He had problems controlling his Evol recently - but never like this. "Zayne," you called out to him, putting your hands on his fists. Skin colder than ice, Zayne's hands trembled violently. His breathing was labored, small beads of sweat forming on his forehead.

"Look at me," you said softly, your hands coming to rest on his shoulders. "Look at me..."

Zayne willed one eyes open ever so slightly, fighting the pain surging through his body. Your heart clenched at his agonized expression, pain and fear evident in his gaze. You had to do something - anything - to stop this...

"I'm sorry," you whispered, cupping his cheeks gently. You knew he hated the feeling of your Evol, but you had no other choice.

Time froze at your command - and your surroundings along with it. The fire in the hearth stood still, the snowflakes outside your window stopped falling, and Zayne - for a moment - stopped being.

You took a deep breath and kissed his forehead, trying to ease his anguish; he almost looked like a wax figure straight from the museum... but it worked. Standing up and taking a step back, you raised your hand slowly, your palm facing up. Slowly, a soft, warm glow filled your hand, as you slowly rotated it counterclockwise.

The fire flickered in an unnatural pattern.

The snowflakes were raised back into the clouds.

The ice on Zayne's skin disappeared bit by bit.

Zayne panted heavily when he came back to his senses, palming his chest in slight panic. He looked up at you with widened eyes, taking in your presence.

"You used your Evol...?"

Lowering your hand again slowly, you nodded, watching the snowflakes outside floating to the ground again - as if nothing had ever disturbed their path. "It's fine," you said quietly, "I only used it for my immediate surroundings."

Zayne swallowed thickly, his racing heart finally starting to calm down. "You know I hate when you do that. It's far too dangerous, and it feels terrible."

You averted your gaze, nodding again. "I know, but I wanted to-"

"Thank you," he cut you off, slowly standing up from his arm chair. There was no need to elaborate, no need to think about what happened, and why it happened.

You saved him - for the moment at least. That was more than he could have ever asked of you.

That was more than what you should have done.

[thatfreshi]

Out of Love (Astarion x reader)

Tw - death, vomiting, assisted suicide, sickness

Recommended Song: Past Hound - Adam Melchor

A couple of moons ago, you came down with a horrific illness. You and Astarion both don't know why, or how. You suspect foul play. After all, you didn't always make friends on your journeys. You wonder if perhaps you were poisoned, someone slipped something into a drink at the bar, changing the course of your life forever. The first month was like a bad flu, high fever, vomiting almost every day, barely able to eat. Over time though, your body started to ache. Astarion knew it was getting bad when you fell in the kitchen, breaking one of his favorite glasses. At first he was enraged, so angry that you could be so careless with one of his prized posessions. Then, he turned the corner and saw you lying on the floor, and quickly reverted his previous sentiments.

You don't remember exactly how long it's been. About two months in, Astarion told Shadowheart and Halsin to come over, realizing this was not going to go away on its own. They, tried, everything. Shadowheart went into a frenzy, reading up on everything she could, trying spells she had never cast before. Halsin got ahold of every other druid he knew in the city, to no avail. Everyone was clueless. The only thing they could determine is that this illness was man-made.

"So some bastard did try to finally get me, huh?"

You smile a little at your own comment, wincing at the pain it brings you. Astarion glares, not at you, but at the idea that someone would do this to you.

"Not funny my sweet."

It's now been four months. Astarion has tried his best to keep up with all the care you need, but it has turned both of your lives to shambles. Eventually he invited all your old companions over, to stay for a while, as they wanted to help with your illness. Despite the fact that he could barely stay awake at times, he would watch over you for hours on end, sometimes twenty at a time, until someone like Lae'zel dragged him out of your room to go lie down.

Gale has cooked every meal for all of you since you've gotten worse. He tries his best to make things from your childhood, things you'd find comforting. Shadowheart and Halsin continue to research your sickness, finding nothing. Wyll, Karlach, and Lae'zel take turns with Astarion, keeping watch over you, tending to your every need. At this point, you can barely get up most days, either from pain or lack of energy. Despite this, you can't ever sleep. If you do manage to drift off, it's for thirty minutes or so, and then you're jolted awake by some pain.

One day though, you're awoken by Astarion and Halsin arguing.

"I'm telling you Astarion, there is nothing I can do. Tav is going to pass. I don't know how soon, but I would start getting things in order."

He tries to hold back tears, to be good with his bedside manner, but it's almost impossible when Astarion keeps yelling back at him, desperate.

"Tav is not going to die. It's not time yet, you have to do something!"

"Please, Astarion. I don't want to fight with you. I know this is hard to hear, but it's over. There's nothing more we can do. There is no cure."

He tenses, ready to spit some nasty sentence about how he must be some great druid if he can't even heal people, but he refrains, wiping at his eyes. He storms off to his study, as all of your friends watch it unfold.

"I knew he was going to react like that."

Gale says sadly, looking down at the floor.

"I'll go take watch, give him some time."

And with that, Karlach comes into your room. You pretend to be asleep.

After a few agonizing hours, it's evening. Karlach brought you some soup that you couldn't bring yourself to even try eating. As the sun sets, Astarion is in the doorway, a grim look in his eyes. Without saying anything, Karlach takes her leave, giving him an understanding nod that you don't see.

When your lover makes his way to the bed, he lies down next to you, locking eyes with your tired gaze. It's as if you've been beaten twelve times over, the bags under your eyes have gotten so dark.

"Hello my sweet."

He smiles softly, trying to hide the sorrow, trying to shelter you from the news Halsin gave him.

"Hello my love."

You smile back, a little bit of pain and pressure in your face at the attempt.

"Is there anything I can do for you?"

You snuggle into his side, trying not to move too much. He meets you halfway.

"I'm just... I'm so tired."

"I know darling... I know."

"No, Astarion. I'm tired of this."

"As am I. Shadowheart and Halsin are working steady as always, they'll find something."

You shake your head, a movement he can feel against his chest.

"No. No I... I heard."

You're exhausted, the air barely leaving your lungs.

"Heard what my dear?"

He's not good at playing dumb, the crack in his voice giving it all away. He hadn't thought about the argument, that you would've heard the two of them yelling about how you're going to die.

"What Halsin... what he told you."

And the tears well in his eyes instantly. He thought he wouldn't have to tell you, that he could keep this sacred thing going, that he could hold you without you needing to know it could all go away so quickly. You hear him sniffle, clearly trying to hold back.

"We don't know it's true Tav, they could still find something. They could be wrong."

His throat is coated in desperation, every word stabbing through your brain, trying to find something in you that believes him, even if he doesn't believe himself.

"They've been at it for months my love. I think it's over."

He grips you a little tighter, wishing for your existence, trying to hold the wind back from the embers of a long-gone flame. You both stay silent for a minute, as you try to work up the courage to ask him something. Something you're not even sure he'll say yes to, but you try.

"I want you to feed on me."

He scoffs, almost angrily.

"No my dear, not while you're sick. You need everything you can get.."

You shake a little, perhaps from the never-ending fever, or maybe from the fear, or the pain.

"No. I mean I want you to feed on me until I'm gone."

He tenses, shocked by your request.

"You... you what?"

You start to tear up, which only brings more pain.

"I'm just so tired Aster, and I've fought for so long. I want it to be over. I'm ready for it to be over, please."

You can barely make it through the end of your sentence without choking up.

"I can't do that, I- I won't!"

He sits up to look at you.

"You can't give up, not like this. There's still time, we still have time."

You reach out for his hand, and he obliges. As you squeeze you fingers into the back of his hand, you ask him one of the hardest questions he's ever had to answer.

"What, so you can watch me continue to suffer?"

He hadn't thought of it, that if this was horrific, how much worse could it get? How long was soon? Even Halsin didn't know how much time, not even an estimate, just... soon. He doubles down.

"No! So that, that maybe you can get better! That we can find the bastard that did this and make him cough up the cure. Maybe we can-"

"Astarion!"

You hadn't yelled for weeks, mustering up everything in your body to overpower his pleading voice. The tears continue to fall down his face, and he leans over, bringing your hand to his face.

"I can't Tav. I can't kill you. You're asking me to destroy the only thing I've ever loved, I-"

The thought of it makes him feel like throwing up, the thought of doing something like that to you. Forever ago he tried feasting on your blood in the middle of the night, long before you fell in love. And when you woke up to a strange man, a monster trying to steal your life force, you were kind. You let him drink from you, and every time he needed to after that.

"I love you so much, and I know you love me so much deeper than I could ever imagine, and I am asking you to do one last thing for me, out of love. I don't want to die to some unknown disease that's been ravaging my body, to pass in my sleep without so much as a thought. I want to die with you, right here, while everyone sleeps, where we can be alone one last time."

It's hard to argue with you, but Astarion feels as though ending your life is hardly an act of love. Mortal lives are already so fleeting, and yet you are asking him to cut it even shorter, to let you go. He meets your eyes again.

"Can I at least go slow?"

"As slow as you'd like."

You weakly smile, and he realizes there is no more considering your offer. This is what you want, and only he can give it to you.

"Okay."

He leans down to kiss you, slowly making his way to your throat, hesitating at first.

"I love you more than you'll ever know."

No pet names, no antics, no fluff. It's the first time you think he's ever said something so serious about how in love with you he is.

"I love you too Astarion."

And it's rare that you ever call each other by your first names. He shivers a little, saying you love 'Astarion' and not 'your sweet' or 'your love.' With your declarations out of the way, he pierces your skin with his fangs, slower than usual. Feeding from you is almost always a rabid act, desperate, feral. He's reserved, savoring every moment, knowing this is it, the last time he'll taste your blood, the last time he'll hold you in his arms, the last time you'll lie in this bed together. When the cold subsides and the numbness takes over, you're at peace for the first time in a long time. All you feel is the slow lapping of your blood, and his grasp tight around you. It feels like forever to you, but moments for him. As the flowing river becomes smaller, the tiniest drops coming out of your neck, he feels your body start to go limp, your skin start to get cold. He fulfills your request despite how much he's hurting, and he drinks until there is nothing left, until you're gone.

A wail echoes through the house, waking up your companions as they rush to see what's happened. As Shadowheart is the first to reach the doorway, she sees Astarion clutching your body, sobbing hysterically. She gets up next to him, clamoring on, asking what happened. He can barely speak, and the rest watch in silence.

"Tav- I- I had to- they wanted me to-"

Guilt-ridden, terrified of what he's done despite you pleading with him minutes ago, Astarion can only stutter the same phrases over and over again.

"I'm sorry, I'm so so sorry. I- I didn't want to- please."

"Hey, it's okay. Astarion. Astarion?"

Shadowheart notices the blood all over his mouth and the sheets, and the two perfect pin pricks in your neck, realizing what he's done. Astarion looks up for a moment, still clutching your dead body in his hands. And then, he points at Halsin.

"YOU. You fool, Tav heard us, they heard what you said. They gave up because of you. I had to kill them because of you..."

He starts to sob again, losing the rage, overcome with a sorrow that is inexplainable. Halsin only stays silent, knowing these are words of grief and not truth.

"Get out."

Halsin starts to step aside, believing the comment to be about him. When no one else moves, Astarion's eyes dart across the room at everyone, almost manic.

"Get out, all of you. GET OUT."

"Astarion, you can't-"

Gale is cut off by what is such a guttural scream, he can hardly believe it came from the vampire.

"LEAVE."

He comes back to your body, sobbing into flesh that no longer feels.

"Just please leave me alone..."

Shadowheart quietly gets off the bed, ushering everyone out of the room, softly closing the door behind her. Astarion can barely hear the murmurs outside the bedroom door, as he begins muttering to your lifeless corpse.

"I'm so sorry my dear... I'm so sorry. I should've done more, I should've told you to stay, I-"

He can't find the words, relentlessly blaming himself for your choice, wondering if there was any way to get around this. His mind wanders to that first month, when you dropped his wine glass, how he yelled from the other room, how he scolded you for being careless with his things, and he realizes how stupid life is. Nothing matters, a wine glass doesn't matter, you matter. And you were the only thing that ever mattered.

Hours go by, and dusk turns to dawn. Eventually, Gale comes back to the door, knocking softly.

"I'm coming in."

He's met with Astarion still, lying with your body, the blood crusted on the sheets, and his bloodshot eyes. It's as if he barely moved.

"I think... I think it's time."

While Gale wishes that Astarion could stay by your side forever, he knows your corpse will start to change soon, to become worse and worse as the hours pass by. It takes him forever to pry your lover from your side, eventually leading him to the living room, where he lies on the sofa, curled up, as Halsin begins to prepare your body.

[tired-truffle]

Even the Gods Cry For Us

A Viktorxfem!reader fic

Chapter Word Count: 8.1k

"If there ever comes a day that I am asked how it felt to love you, I will say only this: It feels like now.

For I will be yours, even then.

Inhale. Exhale. You've always been like breathing." - Unknown

Part 9/17

Tag list: @im-just-a-simp-le-whore @potatointhedirt (if anyone else would like to be tagged with future updates let me know!)

Warning: Hallucinations

Masterlist

You’d been naive to think the good days would last. You’d woken up that morning, your new purpose making you feel renewed and excited as the sun crested over the horizon, the sparks mirroring you with little yips and sprints across your body as you got ready for the day. Viktor watched you, a kernel of mirth in his eyes, and you kissed his cheek before bidding him a good day and making your way to the newcomers's area. You’d devoted several days in a row to spending your daylight hours providing pain relief, and your evenings and nights with Viktor - holding him in your arms, talking about everything and nothing. Finally, it felt as though something was going right. 

But the other shoe had to drop - as it always seemed to do. 

It started as a rippling in your blood, a vibration that set all the hair at the nape of your neck on end. You spun around, heart racing as you scanned for any threats. But there was none, or rather, none that you could see. It hit you then, as the small group of newcomers watched you with curious confusion - a misplaced emotion, it should have been fear. 

Like a sudden collision with a brick wall, energy burst from the ground, tearing a blood-curdling scream from your throat as it forced itself between your ribs, lacing around your heart and squeezing. Distantly, you registered the cries of terror erupting around you, but you had little space to process anything but your body coming apart at the seams, a clay pot broken and scattered in the wind before it smashed back again. Over and over, your flesh separated from muscle and bone and fused together in rapid succession. 

What it looked like to those that fled, you had no idea, but the pinks and greens and lightning blues that surged from your skin in blocky, sharp formations had you wondering if all that pain was only happening in your mind, coming from your body. Why else did it look so…alive?

Had you finally lost it? The last shreds of your sanity gone, never to return. No, it felt different than that, and while your mind cracked and slipped beneath the pressure, this did not come from you. This was something else, something bigger. 

“Milá,” you heard Viktor say, a cry of relief poised at the tip of your tongue. But when you looked up, that small modicum of relief dissolved like sugar in water. It was Husk who kneeled before you, his eyes shining an unnatural yellow hue. “Hold on, I am on my way to you.” 

Startled, you recoiled and frantically searched for footing on the dry dirt floor. That was Viktor's unmistakable voice emanating from Husk's mouth. The lilting accent that you had become so accustomed to hearing now sounded eerie and foreign coming from that unfamiliar vessel.

Husk held up his hands, his eyes losing their glow. “It’s okay,” he said, his voice this time. “Everything is going to be okay.” 

But it wasn’t, and everything burned and you didn’t understand why. Another surge of pain overtook you and you fell onto your back, arching as your muscles clenched and contorted. Your mouth fell open in a a desperate attempt to release your torment and you screamed, so deep and agonized you were not sure you’d ever be able to make another sound again.

A thin hand on your cheek had your eyes flaring open, ready to push and shove away from the perceived threat. But all that filled your vision was Viktor, face twisted with concern. His hands hovered over you, the purple light of his magic reflecting away like a forcefield had set up around your writhing body.  

A whimper worked its way up and out of your throat, tears falling in crystalline shards into your hair, sticky with sweat. 

“I can’t stop this,” he breathed, frustration in the crinkle of his nose.

You reached out desperately, fingers clawing at Viktor's robes as another wave of searing agony ripped through you. He pulled you onto his lap, cradling your trembling form against his chest. His hands found their way into your sweat-damp hair, stroking gently as he murmured soothing words that were barely audible over the roaring in your ears.

The pain ebbed and flowed like a violent tide, each peak leaving you gasping and shuddering. Viktor's arms tightened around you, as if he could shield you from the invisible force tearing you apart. You buried your face in the crook of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent. It anchored you, giving you something to cling to as your world spun out of control.

"I'm here," Viktor whispered, his lips brushing against your temple. "Hold on to me. It will pass."

You wanted to believe him, but as another surge burned through you, you weren't sure you'd survive it. Your fingers dug into his arms, and had he been made of skin and bone, you would have left crescent-shaped marks lined with blood. He didn't flinch, didn't pull away. Instead, he pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

Agonizingly slowly, the pain began to lessen. The vibrations in your blood calmed and the pressure around your heart eased. You slumped against Viktor, utterly spent, your breaths coming in ragged pants. The world around you came back into focus - the dry earth beneath you, the warm sunlight on your skin, the gentle breeze carrying the scent of dust and distant flowers.

Viktor's hand continued its soothing motion through your hair, his other arm wrapped securely around your waist. You blinked up at him, your mind reeling. His eyes, usually alight with curiosity and wit, were clouded with worry and a hint of what looked suspiciously like fear.

“I am going to bring you back home now. Are you ready?” 

But you were already home with him. Did he know how special he was to you? How much you loved him? 

Your head bobbed weakly, unable to summon the strength to do much else. The peace you'd found, the purpose you'd discovered - it all felt like it was slipping away, leaving you adrift in a sea of doubt and uncertainty. You clung tighter to Viktor as silent tears tracked down your cheeks.

The world had shifted beneath your feet, and you weren't sure you'd ever feel steady again.

Gathering you up like a lifeless scarecrow, your limbs too weak to do anything but flop uselessly, he lifted you with one hand under your knees, and the other beneath your shoulders. Your head lolled against his chest, eyelids fluttering against the sun that shone into the clearing. 

You drifted in and out of consciousness as Viktor carried you, your mind a hazy swirl of fragmented thoughts and feelings. Your surroundings spun together like disjointed watercolours, nauseating in its jarring movements, yet peaceful, in a way. Was this what dying felt like? No, you decided, you’d felt death before, and it had been nothing short of unpleasant.

Searching for something to ground you, you rolled your head to the side, fighting against the nausea that threatened to overwhelm you. Your bleary eyes struggled to focus, the world a portrait of blurred shapes and colours. Then, like a photograph snapping into clarity, you saw one of Viktor's patients watching from the shadows of a nearby building. Eliza? Elissa? You couldn’t remember her name, but you had met her while she’d sat with the rest of the newcomers as you eased their pain.

In the span of a heartbeat, everything changed.

Her face…it wasn't human anymore. Where flesh should have been, there was only smooth, lifeless metal. Holes riddled the surface like shots from a gun, half of her golden skull caved in. No eyes, no mouth, only indents, and an expressionless void staring back at you.

Terror seized your heart, your body tensing so violently that Viktor stumbled. A strangled cry tore from your throat as you buried your face into his chest, fingers clawing at his robes like it could save you.

"No, no, no," you whimpered, squeezing your eyes shut against the nightmarish image.

"Milá? What's wrong?" Viktor's voice was urgent, concerned, but you couldn't bring yourself to look up, couldn't risk seeing that metal creature again.

"Make it stop," you pleaded, your voice muffled against his chest. "Please, make it stop."

You felt Viktor pick up his pace, his arms cradling you even closer as he hurried towards safety. But the image of that caved-in mask, lifeless and terrifying like a puppet with its head kicked in, was seared into your brain. You shook your head, caught between the lingering pain in your body and the fresh horror in your memory.

“We’re almost there.” Viktor brought you a modicum of relief, though you refused to look up - still too terrified of seeing that creature once more.

Viktor parted the canvas covering of your makeshift shelter and carefully laid you down on the soft blankets below. Taking a seat at your side, he reached out with his slender fingers and brushed them across your forehead, gently sweeping away any stray locks that obscured your view.

“What…” you cleared your throat, “what was that?” 

Viktor held a cup of water to your lips, tilting your head up to help you drink. “I do not know, though it seemed to only affect Hextech. And you. Concerning, to say the least.” 

Right, he hadn’t seen what you had, he figured you were referring to your magical freakout.

Licking your wetted lips, you asked, “Why was the only thing it affected outside of Hextech, me? Shouldn’t you have been affected with the Hexcore?” 

“That is a very pertinent question that I intend to investigate.” He tucked the blankets up and around your chin and you resisted the urge to roll your eyes. 

“Mother-hen,” you grumbled as he continued to tuck you in. He made no attempts to refute the claim, simply allowing his lips to cant into a telling smirk. 

Once sufficiently tucked and swaddled, his gaze returned to your face, scanning you with ever-changing eyes. 

“I’ll be okay.” You gave him your best lighthearted smile, though you did not have the energy to make it entirely convincing. “But did I…hurt anyone?”

Biting your lip, you could hear the echoes of their cries of terror as your magic exploded. Again. Had anyone been caught in the blast? You hadn’t had the awareness to notice. 

“No. No one was harmed save for you. And I am sure that once they calm, they will not hold this against you.” His knuckles traced the line of your cheekbone. “It was not your fault.” 

“But—“ you started, but Viktor spoke over you.

“Ah, ah, ah, no buts. I will not have you carrying guilt over something you could not prevent,” he said, firm, but kindness still lingered around his softened eyes. “Rest now, and we may discuss more when you wake.” 

It was hard to argue with that, and the bone-deep exhaustion from the attack had left you with very little willpower to resist sleep. 

He removed your boots and pants with practiced ease and already your eyes began to drift closed, Viktor’s touch soothing the flares of panic left over from the incident. Within seconds, you fell into a deep sleep, drawn beneath the waves of your consciousness like a shell upon the sand.

Viktor was a busy man and you hadn’t expected him to stay with you for the entire time you were asleep. However, it had been a shock to wake up and find that not only was he gone, but that Charlotte had taken his place. She’d pulled up a chair at your bedside, humming quietly to herself as she knitted what appeared to be a tiny sweater for a child. It took you a moment to recognize her - the last time you’d seen her was before she had been healed by Viktor. Her face had remained largely the same, but her body moved with such ease, her once missing arm now made of Viktor’s enhancements. 

She smiled softly when she noticed you start to shift, carefully putting her knitting down. “I’m so relieved to see you’re awake, dear. I was beginning to get a little worried there, even though the Herald,” you flinched at the honorific, though she did not seem to notice, “assured us that you would be fine. Two days of sleep is concerning, but then again he does have a rather miraculous way of healing.” 

Two days…no wonder Viktor had stationed someone here with you. That attack must have taken more out of you than you’d realized. And by the Gods did you ever have to pee. 

“Yeah, sure,” you offered her, unable to think of anything more intelligent to say. You pushed yourself up to sitting, and with incredible speed for someone her age, Charlotte kneeled beside you, offering support at your back. 

“How are you feeling?” she asked, and a memory tickled at the edges of your brain, a mother, grandmother maybe, had said those words with the same tenderness. But you were essentially a stranger to Charlotte, why did she seem so genuinely worried? 

You shrugged, your body burned the same as it always did, that lingering Shimmer just below your skin, the pain that never truly went away. But it was bearable. 

“I’m okay, just weak and hungry. And I really have to pee.” 

She gave you a warm, understanding smile, her arm linked with yours as she guided you towards the outhouse. The soft rustle of leaves in the distance and the gentle chirping of birds accompanied your slow steps. As you reached the small structure, you entered, and to your surprise, Charlotte made to follow you in. 

“I can sit on a toilet without help, Charlotte.” You leaned against the frame, tired, but sure that you had the strength to do such a simple task. 

She clucked her tongue, coyness sparking in her eyes. “It’s nothing I haven’t seen before, I changed and bathed many a young girl. My daughter and her friends were always getting into trouble.”

“All the same, I will be peeing on my own.” 

Charlotte stepped back. “If you’re sure, dear. Shout if you fall in.” 

You snorted a laugh. “You’ll be the first to know.” And closed the door behind you, ensuring to flip the lock, just in case. 

By the time you were finished and ready to head back, you realized with a start, that the camp was much larger than you remembered. Tents spread out further, light reflecting off a strange, circular building in the centre, and throwing it into the darker recesses. It seemed to almost have doubled in size. 

Shelters had been set up for people to do metal work, clothes spun from discarded fabrics - thoroughly cleaned - in another. Even the fields of produce had grown in size, easily able to provide enough for the residents. 

In all your bewilderment and awe, it took you a moment to realize that Charlotte was leading you towards the centre of the camp, instead of back towards your tent. 

When you voiced your confusion, she simply patted your arm and said, “The Herald wants to tell you himself.” 

Ominous though that was, the title of Herald doing nothing to quell your nerves, you did your best to keep your head down, avoiding looking at any of the passersby. Did they fear you? Viktor had been sure that they wouldn’t, but you weren’t willing to risk it. 

As you approached the circular, webbed building, your eyes widened in wonder. Intricate metallic strands wove together, forming complex and oddly familiar patterns that seemed to pulse with energy. It reminded you of the same glowing web that had arched off of Husk when Viktor had first healed him. The late afternoon sun glinted off its surface, casting shimmering reflections across the ground like ripples on a pond.

All thoughts on the strange architecture vanished upon seeing Viktor emerge from the opening that led further into the dome. A soft smile spread across his handsome features when he saw you, though it seemed rather muted. As he strode towards you, his long legs eating up the distance, it was as if someone had turned down the dial on his expressiveness - a quality of his you had always held dear.

But as he drew near, you saw the change. It was like watching a light switch flick on. His iridescent eyes blazed with life, the corners crinkling as his smile deepened. His posture loosened, becoming more fluid and natural. It was as if colour had been poured back into a faded photograph, bringing it vividly to life.

The transformation was so sudden, so jarring, that you felt a chill run down your spine. What had caused that change? And more importantly, what had caused the dimming in the first place?

Pushing aside your unease, you turned to thank Charlotte for her help, but the words died in your throat. Where Charlotte's kind face should have been, you saw only a smooth, metallic surface, unseeing eyes, closed lips, expressionless, its chin missing like it had been smashed over and over again on a sharp rock.

You stumbled backwards, a strangled cry falling from your lips. Your legs gave out beneath you, but before you could hit the ground, strong arms caught you. Viktor pulled you against his chest, steadying you.

You looked up at him, relief flooding through you at the sight of his familiar face.

You blinked.

And it was no longer your Viktor staring down at you.

Shiny grey metal contoured to the shape of a sleeping face, but devoid of any warmth or humanity, cut through the centre by a sleek metal strip that fanned out at the forehead, golden glowing eyes at the sides. Soft, chestnut waves fell to its shoulders, a swath of grey at the bangs, so different, so human compared to the eldritch face that held nothing but emptiness. It was both beautiful and terrifying, and though every part of you screamed at the bone-deep understanding of who this was, you didn’t want to admit it.

You’d recognize Viktor no matter what he looked like.

You stumbled backward, wrenching yourself from Viktor's grasp. Your heart pounded in your ears as you scrambled away, nearly tripping over your own feet in your haste. Frantically, you rubbed at your eyes, willing the vision to disappear.

"Milá?" Viktor's voice, muffled and distorted, called out to you.

You forced yourself to face him, blinking rapidly - and like a mirage dissolving in the desert heat, the mask faded away. Viktor's concerned face came into focus, his brow furrowed with worry. Beside him, Charlotte stood whole and human once more, her weathered features tight with confusion.

"I-I'm sorry," you stammered, your voice trembling. "I'm still…on edge. From everything that happened."

Charlotte's expression softened, understanding blooming in her kind eyes. "It's not a problem, dear," she patted your arm reassuringly. "I'll leave you two be. Take care of yourself, Mila." With a final, motherly smile, she turned and made her way back towards the camp, her newly enhanced arm swinging naturally at her side.

You watched her go, trying to shake off the lingering unease that clung to you like a second skin. The visions felt so real, so vivid. Were they merely hallucinations born of trauma and exhaustion? Or was there something more sinister at play?

With a hand on your back, Viktor steered you inside, your face turned into his chest, the blanket he now wore as a robe soft against your skin. If you couldn’t see their faces you couldn’t have visions of terrifying metal masks and empty skulls, now could you? 

“It's only us now.” Viktor shut the door behind you, blocking out the main chamber/

Reluctantly, you raised your head, eyes darting around to ensure he told the truth. The room was larger than the shelter you were used to, with smooth walls that curved gently upward to form a domed ceiling. A futon-like mattress rested on the ground in one corner, piled high with soft blankets and plush pillows. The sight of it made your weary bones ache with longing - even though you’d just slept for two days straight.

Off to the side, a curious window caught your eye. Unlike any you'd seen before, it filtered light rather than allow a view of outside. Soft, diffused sunlight spilled through, painting the room in a warm, golden glow. It was as if the essence of a summer afternoon had been captured and distilled into that single beam.

Your sparks, sensing your fascination, darted towards the window. They danced in the light, their tiny forms casting fleeting shadows on the floor.

A small desk sat against one wall, its surface neat and orderly. Various tools and instruments were arranged with precision, their purpose a mystery to you but undoubtedly clear to Viktor.

In the center of the room, a circular rug added a touch of softness to the otherwise utilitarian space. Its intricate pattern reminded you of the complex circuitry you'd seen in some of Viktor's creations, but woven in homely, earthy tones.

Your sparks, having completed their initial survey, returned to you. They spun around your head in excited circles, as if trying to convey their approval of this new space. Their enthusiasm was infectious, and some of your tension began to ease.

As you turned back to Viktor, you noticed a small alcove near the entrance. Inside sat a basin filled with clear water, a stack of clean towels beside it. The thoughtfulness of that simple amenity brought a lump to your throat.

This room, modest as it was, felt like a sanctuary. A space designed not just for functionality, but for comfort and healing. It was a physical manifestation of Viktor's care for you, and the realization made your heart swell.

You took a deep breath, the air was somehow fresher and cleaner than outside. It carried a faint metallic tang, mingled with the soothing scent of lavender - likely from the small potted plant sitting on the windowsill.

“Did you…” you took one step into the room, the fluffy blanket laid over the mattress beckoning you, “Make this?”

“It was a group effort, as most things are in the commune.” His chest pressed against your back and he leaned over, his breath tickling your ear. “But it’s not for communal use.” 

“I sleep for a few days and all of a sudden it goes from camp to commune,” you said, scanning the room as though it would reveal all sorts of hidden secrets.

Viktor brushed his fingers over your shoulder, catching on the collar of your shirt. “Is it not to your tastes?” 

You narrowed your eyes and shot him a glare, conveying your unfiltered thoughts on the matter. You’d stayed in much worse without a complaint - this new room was perfect.

He held his hands up in mock surrender. “I wished to ensure you would be comfortable here, that’s all.” 

“Sure you did.”

With hesitant steps, you approached the inviting mattress. Your fingers ghosted over its smooth surface, before giving it a light kick to test its firmness. Satisfied, you lowered yourself onto the center and were pleasantly surprised by how comfortable it was. It may have been placed directly on the ground, but its downy softness made it feel like you were floating on a cloud.

You flopped back, spreading your arms out to the sides, and letting out a contented sigh. Viktor’s low chuckle had you peering at him through one cracked-open eye. 

“I will take this as a sign of approval.” 

Crooking your index and middle finger, you said, “It’s missing something.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow, answering your beckoning and kneeling at the edge of the bed. “And what could that be?”

You grinned impishly, hooking your legs around his waist. “You,” you said as you tugged, sending him toppling over you. He’d expected your move, had seen it coming from a mile away, and had prepared himself. With a nimbleness you were not used to him possessing, he caught himself on outstretched arms, his mirroring grin giving you only seconds to realize that he had his own tricks up his sleeves - or down the openings of his robes, his sleeve equivalents. 

He scooped his arms around your torso, locking his knees on either side of your waist and rolling. You were suspended in midair, tilting upside down as he shifted onto his back with fluid grace.

You hadn't been prepared for the sudden impact, your body landing on his chest with a definitive thud. Your limbs flailed haphazardly, seeking something to grasp onto in the soft blankets. But Viktor was ready for your fall, and his arms, surprisingly strong for someone so slender, encircled your waist with a firm grip. As he held you tightly against him, he showered your scrunched-up face with a series of quick kisses. Your nose, your eyelids, your cheeks, nothing was safe from his affection.

“Viktor!” You laughed, slapping his chest playfully. “Viktor, stop that!” 

He pulled away, his bottom lip jutting out in a much too adorable pout that had you caving almost immediately. 

“Don’t look at me like that,” you admonished, though the upward curl of your lips undermined your severity. “I have some very important topics that we must discuss, and I can’t have you distracting me.” 

He sighed, all drama and pitiful glances. “If that is what you wish.” 

“It is, you goofball,” you kissed him once, a quick peck and nothing more - how were you supposed to resist? You propped yourself up on your elbows, your face mere inches from his. Maybe you could just waste the rest of the day kissing and snuggling him. He’d been working so hard, did he not deserve a day off? But you sobered up as your questions came reeling to the forefront of your mind. 

“Did you find out what happened when I…” you trailed off, becoming quiet as you resisted the urge to curl in on yourself. “When I lost control?” 

“You should know I disapprove of you carrying that blame,” he said with a pointed look. 

You smiled sheepishly. “I know, I know, I’m working on it.” You ducked your head beneath his chin, settling. “But back to my question, did you figure it out?”

He swayed his head from side to side. “It came from the Hexgates, a…disturbance, though I have yet to find the source. It affected all other Hextech products, but why it affected you I am still unsure.”

You frowned, carding your fingers through the soft locks of his shaggy brown waves - it had gotten longer, a bobbed length that you loved more than you would have thought. “But what about you? You felt it, right? Even though you have the Hexcore inside you and I have no Hextech. Unless we count the magic I syphoned from the Gemstones.” 

A light sparked to life in his eyes, as it always did when he was thinking over some great conundrum. “I imagine I would have ended up in the same state as you, had I not been able to…suppress it.” 

You froze, your fingers stilling in Viktor's hair. "Suppress it? What do you mean?"

But before he could respond, a flicker of movement caught your eye. You turned your head, breath hitching in your throat as you saw the walls of the room begin to shift and warp. The smooth surface rippled like water, bulging outwards in places as if something was trying to push through from the other side.

Your heart raced and you watched in horror as faces began to emerge from the writhing metal - distorted, agonized visages with gaping mouths and hollow eyes. They silently screamed, their features twisting in pain as they struggled to break free from their prison.

You scrambled backwards, nearly falling off the bed in your haste to get away. "Viktor," you gasped, your voice trembling. "What’s happening?"

But when you turned to look at him, you recoiled in shock. Where Viktor's face should have been, there was only a smooth, featureless expanse of metal. No eyes, no mouth, just a blank slate that reflected the terror in your own eyes, bulging like a fish out of water.

A scream tore from your throat, choked with terror, as you frantically pushed yourself away from the bed. You tumbled to the ground, limbs tangled and heart racing. Huddled into a tight ball, you squeezed your eyes shut and covered your ears with trembling hands in a frantic attempt to silence the nightmarish visions.

"Milá." Viktor's voice barely registered through the roaring in your ears. "Milá, look at me."

You shook your head, keeping your eyes firmly shut. "No," you whispered to yourself. "You're not real. None of this is real."

Gentle hands pried your own away from your ears. "Miláčku, please. Open your eyes."

Slowly, hesitantly, you cracked one eye open. Viktor's face swam into view, his features etched with concern. No blank slate - just the man you loved, looking at you with such tenderness you thought you may melt.

"There you are," he said, cupping your face in his hands. His touch was grounding, anchoring you to reality. "Focus on me and tell me what you see."

You took a shuddering breath, forcing yourself to really look at him. "I see...your eyes," you began, your voice barely above a whisper. "They're like pale rainbows."

Viktor nodded encouragingly, his thumbs stroking smooth lines on your cheeks. "Good. What else?"

"Your hair," you continued, reaching up to run your fingers through the soft strands. "It's always a mess, falling into your eyes. But I love it. It makes you look less…polished."

As you spoke, the room around you began to stabilize. The writhing faces in the walls faded away, leaving only smooth metal surfaces once more.

“Good,” Viktor praised, “and one more.”

A spark darted around Viktor’s head and nestled against his shoulder. “My sparks,” you said simply.

Your breathing slowed, matching the steady rise and fall of Viktor's chest.

"I'm sorry." You dropped your gaze. "I don't know what's happening to me."

Viktor tilted your chin up, forcing you to meet his eyes. "Do not apologize. Whatever is occurring, you are not alone."

You nodded, swallowing hard against the lump in your throat. "I keep seeing things. Terrible things. People with metal faces, no eyes, no mouths. Just…empty."

A shadow passed over Viktor's face, so brief you almost missed it. "At first I thought it was just leftover from the…incident,” you admitted. “But it feels so real, and it's been a couple of days."

Viktor's arms tightened around you. "Whatever these visions are, they are not our reality. Not now, and not ever, if I have any say in the matter."

You nestled closer to him, drawing comfort from him. "But what if they become real? What if we can't stop it?"

"Then we will face it together," Viktor said firmly. "But for now, we must focus on the present. On healing you, and understanding what has happened."

You nodded, feeling some of the tension drain from your body. Viktor was right. Worrying about hypothetical futures wouldn't help anyone - but that had never stopped you before.

“And I suspect that while your magic is your own, its original source has lingering patterns that match Hextech, making you susceptible to the surge within the Hexgates.” 

“Will it happen again?” 

“Perhaps, but I could not find any signs that pointed to trouble.” 

You hummed, mind drawn back to that moment of agony that raced across your worn skin, your magic shredding the last of your sanity. Husk had spoken to you with Viktor’s voice, and his movements had been so eerily similar it had been like Viktor was piloting the man’s body. But you couldn’t trust yourself anymore, your visions and nightmares blending with reality. 

But you could trust Viktor. 

“When I was, uh, you know, screaming on the ground and all that,” eloquent, as always, “did you, like, speak through Husk, or was that another hallucination?”

Viktor was silent for a beat, the light buzz of life outside drifting in through the closed window. 

“I did,” he said at last, “though I should have realized that doing this without your knowledge would only serve to frighten you. I apologize for adding to your distress.” 

You weren’t entirely sure how to feel about his casual statement. Brief mentions of possession - if that’s what it was, though you couldn’t think of a more apt description - had been few and far between in the books you’d read on mages back at the Academy. But they’d all had one common theme: possession never led to anything good. Then again, it had said similar things about Motus Mages, and you had yet to burn down any cities. Yet. 

“And Husk is okay with that?” 

“Yes.” A plain and simple answer for a morally complex question. Dread slithered up the back of your neck like a snake shedding its skin. Could it really be that easy? To take over another person’s body with their consent. While the Hexcore had never had your permission, you couldn’t help but think about how it had made you feel like a frog caught in an oil slick, grease coating your skin as you struggled for breath. Surely it didn’t feel like that with Viktor, his compassion and care were so different from the Hexcore’s malevolence. 

“Can you do that with everyone or just Husk?” you asked instead of spewing your unease in unpracticed words. 

“Only those who have accepted my healing, and only if they are comfortable with it.” Viktor’s hand traced absent-minded shapes across your back. “I would never force it upon someone unwilling.”

You curled your hands into fists in his robes. “I know,” you breathed, letting your shoulders release from their rigid posture, the feel of his fingers along your spine enough to unwind the knot of worry coiled beneath your ribs. “It’s just…you didn’t tell me.” 

A sudden, sharp grip on your ankle had you jolting out of your relaxed state, breath catching around a scream. With quick reflexes, you pushed yourself up, eyes wide as you searched for the source of the claws digging into your flesh and—

There was nothing there, the feeling vanishing as you made the connection. 

Your breath came in sharp pants, pupils blown wide with fear. It had felt so real, the calluses, each individual claw, the heat of your blood pooling and running down your leg. 

The sparks hopped their way over to your ankle, humming inquisitively as they assessed you for damage. 

A tender hand on your cheek gently steered you away, returning your panicked gaze to Viktor. His eyes shone with profound sadness, oceans filled with multicoloured fish, and at their depths sat understanding, the ever-constant sea bed. 

“I didn’t tell you,” he started, thumb smoothing the crease between your brows, “not because I was trying to hide it from you, but because I worried I had already put enough on your plate. There have been many changes as of late. I wanted to give you more time to adjust.” 

You exhaled, tired and scared and wanting more than anything to stop being such a burden. Though you dared not voice that thought aloud, knowing he would correct you, disapproving but sympathetic all the same.

“I appreciate you looking out for my well-being, but next time, I would much prefer if you told me sooner. I’d rather know than be surprised later on.” 

He nodded, the swish of his hair on the sheets accompanying the creak of the bed as he shifted his legs. “That can be arranged.”

You huffed, lying back down to rest your head against his chest, finding peace in the gentle beat of his heart beneath yours. Was it mechanical like the rest of him, or had it remained the same? Did it make a difference if it was flesh and blood or metal if it belonged to him? The answer was easy; no, it did not. It was Viktor’s heart, and as long as it kept beating, whatever it was made out of mattered little in the end.

You nestled closer to Viktor, letting his steady heartbeat lull you into a fragile sense of calm. But as you lay there, a prickling sensation crept up your spine. The hairs on the back of your neck stood on end, and you couldn't shake the feeling that something was watching you, its gaze boring into your back with malicious intent.

Your muscles tensed, every instinct screaming at you to turn and face the threat. But fear paralyzed you, rooting you to the spot. What if you looked and saw another nightmarish vision? What if this time, it didn't fade away?

Instead, you buried your face deeper into Viktor's chest - if that was even possible - squeezing your eyes shut. Your fingers curled into the soft fabric of his robe and his arms tightened around you, one hand moving to stroke your back in slow, soothing circles.

Viktor didn't say a word, seeming to understand your need for silence. He simply held you, his touch a constant reminder that you weren't alone.

The presence behind you felt closer now, looming. You could almost feel its breath on your neck, cold and unnatural. Your heart raced, and you struggled to keep your breathing even.

Desperate for distraction, you focused on cataloging every sensation. You felt the rise and fall of his chest beneath your cheek, steady and reassuring. The soft cotton of his robe against your skin, worn and familiar. His fingers tracing patterns on your back, their touch feather-light yet grounding.

You inhaled deeply, catching his familiar scent - a blend of metal and pine and ink. It filled your lungs, pushing back against the imagined scent of decay that had been creeping into your nostrils.

The mattress beneath you, soft yet supportive. The cool metal of Viktor's arm where it rested across your waist. You listened to the ambient sounds of the room - the quiet hum of whatever powered the lights, the distant murmur of voices from outside, the whisper of fabric as Viktor shifted slightly.

Gradually, the feeling of being watched began to fade. The imagined presence retreated, leaving only the solid reality of Viktor's embrace. Your tense muscles slowly relaxed, the knot of fear in your chest loosening its grip.

You exhaled shakily, finally daring to open your eyes. You tilted your head up, meeting Viktor's gaze. No words were needed; his eyes said it all. You were safe. You were loved.

Minutes ticked by, and you remained safe.

“There is…another topic we should discuss,” Viktor said after you had fully returned to a state of calm. Had you not been laying on him, you would have missed the minute tensing of his body. 

Rolling off of him, though remaining firmly tucked against his side, you laid your head on his shoulder. “Which is?” 

His eyes - swirling between muted blues and yellows and every colour in between - remained firmly trained on the ceiling. “I’m sure you noticed that when I merged with the Hexcore, I lost certain, uh, functions.” 

Ah, you’d wondered when this would come up. Why the Hexcore had stolen that part of him when merging him and his clothes into a metal body, you didn’t quite understand. 

The sparks squealed, scattering in all directions and disappearing into the folds of the blanket. Good, this was a private conversation and you didn’t need them listening in. 

“I did,” you said plainly, pushing the tremble in your voice down with the flat side of your tongue. 

“And,” he turned his face towards you, his hair shifting to hide the hint of blush that bloomed at the tips of his ears, “does this…bother you?” 

“Are you asking if this changes how I feel about you?” Threading your fingers through his, you gave him a reassuring squeeze. 

He considered this, frowning as his eyes darted around in thought. “I don’t mean to doubt your affection, only that the physical aspect of a relationship is vital to most.” 

“Maybe, but since when have we ever been typical?” Smiling softly, you pulled his hand to your lips, placing a delicate kiss on his knuckles. “Does it change things for you?” 

“No,” he said without hesitation, “it does not.”

“Good,” you kissed the tip of his nose, revelling in the low laughter that reverberated through his chest and into yours. “Besides, I…” you sighed, closing your eyes to block out the shadow that moved in your peripheral. “I don’t think I’m exactly well enough for any of that. Nothing ruins the mood like hallucinating some sort of disintegrated metal marionette.”

It isn’t real, it isn’t real, it isn’t real. 

“I suppose so,” he said with a sparkle of mirth in his eyes. “But when you are well enough—“

“It still won’t change anything.” You cut him off before he could go further down that road. “I love you, Viktor. You could lose all your limbs, be an invisible, untouchable spirit, and I would still love you.” 

“You should not ignore your needs in favour of soothing my ego, Milá.” He fixed you with a hardened look, not angry or condescending, but resolute. 

Brushing his hair behind his ear, you grinned. “Since when have you had an ego that needed soothing?” 

When he opened his mouth to protest, a spark beat you to his lips, pressing firmly against them as it squeaked its protest. Viktor’s brows raised as he stared down his nose at the diminutive creature. 

“They’re getting bolder,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, watching in amusement as it chased his words, flattening itself against the seam. 

With the spark on your side, you too were feeling bold. “If we ever get to the point where I have…” the boldness wheezed from your pours as a redness tinted your cheeks, “needs of that variety, we can talk about it. But I don’t want it to just be about me, it’s about what you want to.” 

Pinching the spark between your thumb and index finger, you pulled it off his lips, the tiny thing shrieking its irritation as you placed it behind you. 

Viktor's eyes softened as he gazed at you, a small smile gracing his lips. "What I want is for you to be happy and fulfilled in all aspects of our relationship."

Warmth bloomed in your chest at his words. Even after everything you'd been through, Viktor's devotion to your well-being never wavered. It was a constant in a world that seemed increasingly chaotic and unpredictable.

"I am happy," you assured him, reaching up to kiss the spot on his cheek where metal became skin. "And fulfilled."

As you lay there, held in Viktor's arms, you felt a sense of peace settle over you. The shadows that had been lurking at the edges of your vision receded, chased away by the warmth and safety he provided.

But a nagging thought tugged at the back of your mind, refusing to be ignored. "Viktor," you said hesitantly, "what exactly happened while I was unconscious? How did the camp, I mean, commune, grow so much in just a few days?"

Viktor was quiet for a moment, and when he spoke, his voice was careful, measured. "The disturbance in the Hexgates had far-reaching consequences, not to mention Piltover’s weaponization of the Grey. Many in Zaun were affected, and many have become sick or injured. Word spread quickly of my abilities, and people came in droves."

You propped yourself up on an elbow, looking down at him with wide eyes. "But how did you manage to expand so quickly?"

"We worked tirelessly," Viktor said with a hint of pride. "Many of those we had already helped stayed to assist others. The community rallied together in a way I had not anticipated. It was… inspiring."

You could hear the wonder in his voice, the genuine amazement at what had been accomplished. But something still didn't quite add up.

"And the new buildings? The fields?" you pressed. "How did you create all of that so fast?"

Viktor's eyes met yours, and for a moment, you saw something flicker in their depths. Uncertainty? Guilt? It was gone before you could be sure.

"I may have, uh, pushed myself further than was strictly advisable," he admitted. "The Hexcore allows me to interface with technology in ways that are still not fully understood. I was able to expedite the construction process significantly."

You frowned, concern creasing your brow. "Viktor, that sounds dangerous. What if you had hurt yourself?"

He reached up, cupping your cheek in his hand. "I was careful, I assure you. And the benefits far outweighed any potential risks. We've been able to help so many. To give them hope and a new start. This is everything I dreamed of when first founding Hextech."

You wanted to argue further, to make him understand the fear that gripped your heart at the thought of him putting himself in danger - pushing himself to far. But the look of earnest determination in his eyes gave you pause. This was important to him, you realized. Not just the healing, but the creation of something larger than himself.

You leaned into his touch. "Just…promise me you'll be more careful in the future? I can't bear the thought of losing you."

Viktor's expression softened, a tender smile curving his lips. "I promise, miláčku. I will be careful."

As if to seal his vow, he pulled you down for a gentle kiss. You melted into it, letting the heat of his touch chase away the lingering chill of your fears. His hand clasped the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair as he deepened the kiss. You could taste the faintest hint of metal on his tongue, a reminder of his transformation, but it was Viktor and you savoured it.

When you finally pulled away, breathless and flushed, you found yourself captivated by the swirling colours in Viktor's eyes. They seemed to dance with devotion, reflecting the golden light filtering through the curious window. For a moment, you lost yourself in their depths, transfixed by how they could be both familiar and foreign at the same time.

The sparks, sensing the shift in mood, cautiously peeked out from their hiding spots in the blankets. They zipped around you both, their tiny forms leaving trails of light in the air. Their excited chirps filled the room, a joyful counterpoint to the steady hum of Viktor's internal mechanisms.

You hated to break the calm once more, but there was yet another piece you had to discuss.

"Viktor," you began, your voice barely above a whisper, "there's one more thing."

He hummed in acknowledgment, his fingers resuming their soothing strokes along your spine.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself. "I, um, I'd prefer if you didn't speak to me through other people. Like you did with Husk."

Viktor's hand stilled on your back, and you felt him tense slightly beneath you. "May I ask why?" he inquired, his voice carefully neutral.

You bit your lip, considering your words. You couldn't bring yourself to tell him how deeply it unnerved you, how the thought of him inhabiting another's body had every nerve in your body screaming about the wrongness of it all. Instead, you opted for a partial truth.

"It's just with everything that's been happening, all these visions and hallucinations, I worry it might confuse me," you explained. "I need to be able to trust what I'm seeing and hearing, and if I can't be sure it's really you…"

You trailed off, leaving the implications hanging between you. The room seemed to hold its breath, the usual ambient sounds fading into the background as you waited for Viktor's response.

After what felt like an eternity, Viktor spoke, his voice soft but resolute. "If it would ease your mind, I will not communicate with you in that manner."

Relief washed over you, and you felt some of the tension leave your body. You tilted your head up, meeting Viktor's gaze. His eyes shimmered with understanding and a hint of regret. "Thank you," you murmured, pressing a soft kiss to the underside of his jaw. "I know it's a useful ability, but…”

"Your comfort and peace of mind are more important," Viktor finished for you, his arms tightening around you. "I should have considered how it might affect you, given your recent experiences. I apologize for my oversight."

“There’s no need to apologize, we’re figuring this out together, remember?”

“You’re quite right,” he said as he placed a kiss on the top of your head. “Together it is.”

And you would have it no other way.

Next Chapter

A/N: He just– Loves. You. So. Much! I will never tire of writing these sweet little moments <3 And some much-needed conversations!

You may have noticed that some 'Milas' have an accent on the a and some don't. This is on purpose, only Viktor has an accent on the a since he pronounces it differently, if that makes sense.

I just wanted to warn again about hallucinations, they will be continuing at this frequency for a bit, if you have any questions or want me to give you the specific parts to avoid please message me or leave a comment, I am more than happy to help!!

I kinda went off the 3 things DBT exercise here, I find its a good one for grounding yourself in reality :) And poor Mila really needs some of that right now!

[kennarose1108]

My World (Negan Smith x Reader !DAUGHTER OF RICK) !PART 4!

It was the middle of the night and you had left the room while Negan was sleeping to get something to drink as your throat was abnormally dry and you didn't feel like waiting Negan up to escort you just to get a glass of water. You were walking down the hall groggily, a yawn escaping your lips as your gaze was on the floor. But as you turned a corner your gaze fell upon a pair of shoes at the end of the hall. You slowly looked up and furrowed your eyebrows as you saw a unfamiliar woman with a gun in her hand.

You froze in place and stared at her with a look of confusion. She stared back, her eyes wide before he aimed her gun at you. You gasped loudly before she began to shoot. You were able to duck yourself behind the wall at the corner before any real damage was done.

But you fell to the ground and shrieked in pain as you felt a searing pain in your left shoulder. Your hand went up and you immediately felt a wet feeling seeping through your fingers. You turned your head and saw blood staining your shirt and hand crimson red. Your eyes were wide and horrified as you had never bled so much.

But you were quickly brought back to reality as you heard her footsteps walking down the hall and to your direction. You quickly stumbled onto your feet and began running down the hall. When the footsteps stopped the shooting began again. You were ducking and moving erratically as bullets flew by you. You ran past another corner and when you did you saw a bunch of men running past you with guns. You turned your head but when they looked past the corner you watched as their bodies fell to the floor before they could even aim. You screamed and continued running as fast as you could.

As you were running you pushed through a door and continued to run. The sounds of multiple firing behind you went further and further away. Your adrenaline was taking over as you ran and you barely acknowledged where you were going, you were just running... All up until you bumped into somebody. You gasped and stumbled back and the person grabbed your uninjured shoulder.

"What the hell are you doing?! Why are you out here?!" The person hisses and you recognized the voice... It was Simon. You stared up at him with wide eyes and you were unable to speak. Simon gently pinched the hole on your shirt where your wound is to examine it. "I'll take you to the infirmary." Simon says as he gently grabs your upper arm and begins pulling you away. You still heard the sound of shooting but it was far away now.

You turned your head, afraid that the shooter would appear behind you. "You're safe. We have men on the shooter as we speak. They should take them down soon." Simon says. He was right. After about another minute or two the sound of gunfire stopped.

Simon pulled you into the infirmary and Dr Carson looked at the two of you. "Get her stitched up." Simon says while forcing me to sit down on the exam table. Dr Carson's eyes widened when he saw me, knowing how serious this was because of who I was. He nodded and quickly began getting out his surgical tools.

"I'll go and inform Negan." Simon says to you. You look at him nervously before nodding. You knew you were in deep shit. Simon then left the room.

After about thirty minutes Dr Carson was finished stitching up your wound. Luckily there was an exit wound so it was a simple procedure. But your shirt was drenched in blood. Dr Carson had to cut some parts of it so he could wrap a bandage around your wounded shoulder but just enough to give him access to the parts of your shoulders he needed to wrap up but enough to keep you covered as well.

"How are you feeling?" Dr Carson asks. "...Woozy." You say. Not to mention it hurt like hell. Once the adrenaline wore off in your body you were left with a searing pain in your shoulder and it was even more agonizing when he stitched it up. Since it was the apocalypse he didn't have drugs on hand to make it any less painful so you had to sit there and deal with the pain.

"That's common. You'll be alright as long as you keep the stitches clean. Here, I'll help you up." Dr Carson says while holding out his hand for you. You take his hand and he helps you off the examination table. "Thank you." You say softly. Just as he was about to respond the door to the infirmary burst open to show Negan in a rage. In a blink of an eye, he was in front of you and grabbing your wrists a little too harshly for your liking.

"What is wrong with you?! Do you have a death wish or something?!" Negan hisses, his face just inches from yours. Your eyes widen, "Negan I-" He interrupts you. "I wake up to the sound of gunfire. You're gone, I get worried and Simon comes to me and tells me you've been shot." Negan says while shaking you a bit. "Do you understand how terrified I was?! I thought you were dead! You're goddamn lucky it was only your shoulder!" Negan shouts.

"Why the hell were you out?! Why didn't you wake me up?!" Negan growls. You stare at him wide-eyed momentarily before speaking up, "I-I... I just wanted some water..." You say in a low tone of voice. "Water? That's it? You got shot for water?" Negan says in a rough and angry tone of voice. You looked down at the ground and frowned. "I'm sorry..." You mumbled just loud enough for him to hear. Negan looks down at you before sighing deeply. He looks off to the side and he seems lost in thought. He then looks back at you before grabbing the back of your head and pulling it to his chest. He sighs against you as he holds you tight.

"I coulda lost you..." He kissed your head and took in your scent, "I've never been so scared in my entire life..." He mutters, just barely enough for you to hear it before he pulls you into a very tight hug. You hug him back but it doesn't take long for your shoulder to throb from the pain of being against something.

You let out a hiss before pulling back and rubbing your shoulder gently. Negan gave you a pitiful but also angry look. "Let's go. I'm bringing you back to bed." Negan says while grabbing your other shoulder and pulling you along with him. You both walked to your room, his hand gently on your shoulder as you walked. You didn't speak, neither did he. There wasn't much to say. He said enough.

When you got back to your bedroom he ushered you inside and got you into bed. "I have to do some damage control... I'm going to have somebody at the door. But I'll be back. I promise." He says. You nodded and he kissed your head before leaving.

You slept. All you did was sleep. Your mind and body were exhausted so all you did... Was sleep. But then you woke up, god knows when to Negan shuffling around the room and gathering things. You sit up and wince as your shoulder doesn't feel any better. Negan hears you rustling around in bed and he turns around and smiles at you. "Hey there darlin'. He says while walking towards you and sitting down on the bed next to you. "How do you feel?" He asks.

"Sore..." You answer while rubbing your shoulder gently. He nodded, "I figured..." He murmured while brushing some of your hair behind your ear. You noticed he was wearing his whole getup and had a gun in his holster and Lucille was leaning against the wall next to the door. "Where are you going...?" You asked. Negan stared at you for a minute before looking away and clicking his tongue. "To see Rick and his people," Negan says. You furrow your eyebrows. "I'm coming." You say. "The hell you are," Negan says right after you finish speaking and he looks at you.

"Why can't I come?" You ask. "Because what we're doing is not pretty sweetheart." He says. Your breathing gets shallow, "...What are you going to do?" You ask in a low tone of voice. He swallows hard and sighs, "The one who shot you and killed a bunch of my men was from Rick's group. I've also gotten intel that Rick has been grouping up with people and teaming up against us. So... I'm just going there to negotiate." Negan says.

"'Negotiate'? What the hell does that mean?" You ask as you feel like you already know what he means. He stares at you. Just fucking stares. "Negan!" You say a bit too loudly. He sighs, "We're going to give them an option. Either they submit to us or we kill them all." Your eyes widened as you process this information.

"Negan... Y-You can't! You'd be killing my family!" You shouted. "I'm your family." He says. "Yes... You are. But my dad and brother are also a part of my family!" You say with anger in your voice. "Well, they shouldn't have screwed me over," Negan says while standing up. "Negan, don't do this... Please. I'm begging you." You say while grabbing his wrist to stop him from leaving.

He stared down at you. You could tell he was conflicted on doing what he thought was right and his love for you.

"Please... I just got them back..." You say just above a whisper. He stared at you for another second before turning his head away and sighing deeply. "I'm sorry." He then pulled his wrist out of your grip and quickly walked to the door. "NEGAN NO!" You screamed while shooting up out of bed but by the time you got to the door he had already slammed it shut and locked it from the outside.

You banged on the door and screamed for him to let you out. You shook the doorknob but nothing worked. Tears rolled down your cheeks in grief and frustration and your body shook with fury.

You tried everything over the last half an hour. You tried to use something in the room to break down the door but all that left you was the person guarding your door to yell at you to quit it. You checked the window and saw you were too high up. You would definitely twist or break your ankle if you dropped down.

But what choice did you have?

You opened the window and sat on the edge of the window. You took deep breaths as you encouraged yourself to do this. You took one last breath before throwing yourself out the window... And just as expected... You twisted your ankle. You let out a cry of pain on impact which most likely alerted the person outside your door, so you had to be quick.

You quickly got to your feet and you began to hurriedly limp yourself to the nearest car. You got into the car and quickly began to hotwire it... When you were a teenager you hung around the wrong crowd and luckily learned to hotwire a car.

When you finally got the car started that's when you noticed the person guarding your door running outside and calling for you. You quickly put the car into drive and got out of there with the person chasing after the car before giving up and running back inside.

You hauled ass over there and by the time you got there, there was gunfire and people dead. Your breath hitched as the gunfire stopped... But the Saviors were still standing.

"No..." You murmured before getting out of the car. The Saviors pointed their guns at you before realizing who you were and lowering their guns. You limped around the town until you see a sight that shook you to your core....

Your father was on his knees, as was Carl... And Negan was about to swing his bat to the back of Carl's head. "NOO!' You shrieked which made Negan stop in place and look at you with a face of horror... You both just stared at each other with looks of horror on your faces. ...How could he? He knew how much Carl meant to you... How much they both meant to you.

But then suddenly a tiger came out of nowhere and killed one of Negan's men. Gunfire arose and you quickly ducked and hid behind a car. Your breathing was heavy and tears pricked your vision.

But now was not the time to cry.

One of the Saviors dropped dead next to you and you let out a scream as blood splattered onto your face. But then you noticed he had a gun... And you remembered your father teaching you how to use a pistol when you grew up. So you grabbed the gun for protection but you didn't dare aim it at anyone.

Gunfire flew past you and almost hit you. You realized this wasn't the best place to hide so you got up and began to quickly limp away but that was when someone grabbed you and lifted you up which made you drop your gun. You screamed, kicked, and flailed around. The person holding you hissed and said, "Stop it!" And you realized it was Negan which made you freak out even more.

You began to punch his arm but he didn't flinch or release his grip on you. He just carried you to a truck, threw you into the back of it, and slammed the door shut. You tried to get out but he locked it... This son of a bitch and locking you out...

The car began to drive and that's when the tears finally fell. You sniffled and cried yourself into a ball... Did you feel weak? Yes. But at least Carl and your father were safe... You hoped.

The car came to a stop and a few of Negan's men came and grabbed you. You continued your screaming, flailing, and spitting while they carried you into a cell. They threw you inside and locked the door. You sat on the floor and continued to cry. Your ankle and shoulder throbbed and your heart ached with grief...

How could he...?

Hours passed and finally, the door opened. You didn't look up, you knew who it was.

The silence was deafening.

Finally he spoke.

"I did what I had to do." He spoke in a low voice. You didn't say a word, you just glared at the ground with tears in your eyes. "Y/N... We have rules... You have to understand that." He says. You wanted to yell and scream but your voice ached and you just didn't have the energy to fight anymore.

He let out a sigh before turning and taking a step and you finally spoke, "I'll never forgive you for this." You say while glaring up at his back.

He turned his head slightly to the side to glance at you from over his shoulder. You could see the pain on his face.

"I can live with that." He says.

He then finally walked out and shut the door, leaving you in darkness with your thoughts...

PART 5?