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simp-ly-writes · 2 months ago

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My Love Mine All Mine

─────── · · Skyfall (pt.2)

Pairing: Alexander "Jackal" Duggan x Fem!Reader

─ · · SUMMARY: Alex had stayed in your apartment, he stayed in your heart, in your mind and took over every aspect of your life. So much so that you feel empty at his lack of presence after weeks... but is the "Jackal" every truly gone?

─ · · TAGS: second person perspective used, female-pronouns used, depictions of blood, gore, guns, and violence, usage of pet-names (ex. love, sweetheart, etc) swearing, fluff, HEAVY angst, hurt/comfort, dark romance, mentions of stalking , threats, and obsession.

─ · · MASTERLIST | TAGLIST REQUEST | WORDCOUNT: 3,226 | PART ONE

─ · · A/N: This gets... kinda dark... hope you all enjoy lol

─────── · ·

You new that the Alexander you grew up with, played with, fought with (and bullied), was not the same man that was currently waiting for you in your bed. But you could see glimpses every time you touched and saw him smile.

Sighing and pressing your forehead against the wet tiled wall, you let the shower head rain down on the scalp, soothing your on-coming headache. You watched as the blood dripped off your hands, the stains on your tiles removed and sanitized before you shut off the water and stepped out onto them.

Patting yourself dry, you took a look through your smoky mirror and looked down to see parts of what looked to be prosthetics in your trashcan... what the fuck kinda job has Alex gotten himself into... and did I even wanna know? You thought to yourself before putting on your pyjamas and throwing your scrup's into the washing machine as your haired dried.

Checking the clock in your kitchen, it was nearing 4:00 AM as you groaned and started to pick at your salad before a voice was calling from the bedroom... it was like work never left you as your few minutes of sitting had you now rushing to the bedside.

"Is everything okay?" You ask, flinging the covers off and searching for any changes, you pick up his chin, inspecting his eyes and feeling around his head before shaking your head as he smiles, "It's been 10 minutes."

"Oh fuck off, Alex. I'm eating. You're a grown man, just wait," you lecture him, throwing the covers back on and shutting off the light. You feel his stare as you leave, stomping back and reheating the kettle again. You watch as it bubbles as you stretch out your back and shoulders. Tonight is going to be a LONG night....

Getting into bed beside Alex felt like deja vu from the sleepovers you could have at his house in order to escape your family... it felt natural how his arm snuck about your head and the way that your fingers intertwined with one another.

"Do you love me?" Alex asks, catching you off-guard. You contemplate your answer, your head not sharing what your heart speaks, "yes." He sighs out contently, "I love you too."

You listened to his breaths even out as you laid there awake... waiting for what you did not know but you stared at that rifle in your hallway, discarded in favour of... you. The metal gleamed in the moonlight, capturing its cold essence that had you shivering underneath the blankets. "Go to sleep, love," a groggy tone called out from behind you, a kiss being planted to your shoulder that has you forcing yourself to relax. Who am I laying beside?

─────── · ·

When you have woken to the sunlight coming through your sheer blinds and a record being played in your living room, you were rising in a moment, forgetting to place your slippers on as you padded your way down the hallway and towards the kitchen where an Alex was cooking eggs and pouring out coffee.

"Morning, sleepy," He teased, picking up a mug and giving to you. You warmed your hand, closing your eyes to feel the smoke upon your face before bending to look around your old friend, the dishes were done... "Thank you, A. You didn't have to do those, I mean you are injured," you say, giving him a pat on the arm before gently shoving him away to finish the cooking.

─────── · ·

By the time your done and turning back around, the sniper rifle is disassembled all across your dining table as you place plates around its pieces. Looking at the various compartments as Alex cleans them, you take a seat across from the man, watching quietly as you sip your drink and cross your legs.

"You'll need to take another dose of pain relievers with your meal in the next half hour," you say as he only nods, continuing his... work. "Alex," you call out softly, this time he looks at you, eyes waiting as they dip towards your lips and up again.

"Yes, love?"

"I...hm, why come to me now?" You ask, foot tapping underneath the table, anxious for a proper answer. You watch his nose wiggle slightly as he stares at you, "don't lie to me, Duggan."

"I wasn't planning on it," he tries to gaslight you. "Bullshit," you call out, "I know you, Alex. If you like that fact or not. And I know when and how you lie no matter what fucked up shit you put yourself through to end up like this at my doorstop. So I'll ask you again, why. are. you. here?" you ask more coldly this time, eyes sharp and cutting through the masks he tries.

He sighs, setting down the muzzle in his lap, "I knew that you could... help. I have been keeping tabs on you, making sure your safe-"

"And why wouldn't I be?" you say with a glare, "I know the profession I choose has its faults, but what are you not telling me, Alexander?"

"I just need to know it for my own sanity. I need to know where you are, who you're seeing, what you're doing day by day," He says- you start feeling sick, that coffee rising up in your throat- burning. "My work... it does not work out for people who know any part of me and I know that you know the most... and I know that I don't have it in my to remove you so I must watch instead."

"Remove me?" you raise your voice slightly, standing, chair screeching against the wooden floors, well there goes my security deposit... Alex continues, disregarding your statement.

"But thats not your question, what is it I do? Well I am a contractor. I take a job, whatever it takes, and provide my services in exchange for cash." You slowly blink, walking further and further away as he looks more comfortable and confident in his seat- as if he has you right where he wants you.

"And that involves, a gun and being shot at?" you counter, hands shaking as that little boy running around your mind blends in with your darkest of thoughts. You can feel his blood dripping down your arms again, feel his kiss on your neck.

"Yes," and with such a simple word it can have you falling over and coughing, gripping your shirt. Alex stands, walking over and crouching, rubbing your back. For a minute you accept the soft touch before shoving him away.

"You could ruin my career, fucking everything I've worked for if you're seen with me! You kill people for money!" your mind swirls with all the news articles and announcements that play in the lobby. You grip your head, everything I worked for, gone. You look up with dead eyes mirroring his own cold and calculated ones. "Yes. I kill people for money. But I also protect. That's why you are going to help me and make sure I'm not seen," Alex tells you, hands gripping the knees you bring up to your chest. You nod watching as he smiles, "thank you, love." You now hated that word.

"Now, where's those meds?" He helps you to stand, following behind you and moving into the bathroom, deja vu again... as he sits on the bathtub, throwing his head back with a glass of water before you check his stitches and clean up the minor cuts across his hands.

He watches are yours tremor still, he holds them, bringing them to his face as silent tears stream down your cheeks. He shushes you, pulling you closer, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. "Everything's going to be fine, just let me do everything and you, take care of me."

─────── · ·

Your morals were out to kill you, was all you could think while running around your usual shift as you treated the never-ending wave of patients and their problems. Your eyes burned from your unrestful sleep, your heart hammered in your ears and you stumbled into the break room and crashed against the table. You should have not taken that call-in...

You took an oath to helping the people, to helping the public and providing care and assistance. But that oath was coming after you as you entered back into your apartment as Alex was holding a plank with his shirt off. "You know what I'm going to say," you begin, slamming the door closed and kicking your boots off.

Alex doesn't even look your way, just staring at an imaginary dot, his form unwavering. You scoff yet your eyes still check his side, wincing at the bead of sweat that nears your work, infection! screaming in your ear as you head towards the shower. "Can I join you?" Alex is drying the sweat off his chest, smiling down at you. "No."

─────── · ·

As time would go on and until Alexander was fully healed. You had made zero progress on understanding any more details to his work as he somehow knew everything about you, ordering in your favourite take out, knowing just how you liked the bed made and just the right ways to hold you after work.

You felt pathetic in his touch, you knew what those hands did, what they were coated in as he played with your hair and kissed your temple with a smile. You hated the way you started to relax into his embrace and how a small part of you looked forward to his company at the dining table but that was just it... company, that you desired...

So the hurt you felt for loosing yourself combined with the lingering loss of his presence as you had not seen Alex in weeks. The last moment you shared together cuddling in bed before a kiss was planted to your forehead and he was gone, not a trace of himself left in your apartment.

Taking a day off at work, you decided to treat your own loneliness as you put on your eye-liner and flattened your dress against your form with a sigh, breathing in your perfume. All you needed to do was forget it ever happened, pretend it was all in your imagination...

You had lived without Alex for nearly three decades... the rest of your life could be a walk in the park if the guy you were meeting up with tonight clicked. James Ferdinand Vanderbilt, He was an art auctioneer and philanthropist, charming you with his smile and words when attending one of your hospitals charity auctions.

He was well-off, could support you and a future family. He was estranged form his family, building a name for himself and his own business and had multiple college educations. Locking the door behind yourself and calling for a cab, you looked out the window, skies were clear with a light wind, the long daylight hours offering its light as kissing of warmth against your face as you closed your eyes. Whatever happens tonight happens...

─────── · ·

Arriving to the venue, James was already waiting outside for you as he placed a kiss to each of your cheeks. You smiled, holding his arm as you both walked into the restaurant and got lead upstairs to a private table. "Thank you for organizing this, James," you say sitting down as he pushes you towards the table before taking off his jacket and letting it hang off the back of his chair.

He pulls his sleeves up to his forearms as you view the tattoos on display, a symbol of a snake in a circle sparks a memory you can't seem to remember as you smile at one another. "It is really no worries, I wanted us to have privacy and you some peace. I know how hard your profession works." you nod and smile before turning your head down to the menu, James orders you both a bottle of wine to start as you make small talk.

Sharing favourite vacations, movies, and things you like to do in your spare time. You find James to be a bookworm and surprisingly, an ex-military officer as he points to his tattoo. "I thought I had seen that symbol before," you extend your hand, hovering over the ink as he chuckles. "Got family or friends in there now?"

You pause for a second, your smile wavering as he takes your hand, eyes soft, "you don't have to answer that, sorry that was rude of me. I have a few... friends deployed right now is all. Its hard, I know," he says as you nod again, not finding the right words before he thankfully moves conversation on. Yet a little birdie keeps pecking at your head, telling you that something is not quite right as the meal progresses.

You take a look out the window, squirting through the sunbeams glare. "Everything alright there, love," your head snaps over at the last word before you settle your features. "Sorry, thats what my... ex used to call me."

"I am really making a fool out of myself tonight, I do apologize-"

"No! Its me, I'm sorry about this all. My minds just elsewhere with work and-"

"Its mutual then?" He offers with a hand as you grab it and laugh softly, "yes, mutual fault." You both continue to dessert as you try bites off of each others plates. You have been enjoying yourself, watching as Jame's eyes have not left your face the entire time, your cheeks warm from the booze in your system.

"I don't want tonight to end," James starts to say as he picks of the bill and offers you his coat. You shrug it over your shoulders, bringing to stand, "who's saying it-" but before you can finish your sentence you hear a scream, ears ringing as glass shatters, and then your realize that scream is coming from yourself as James lies head down on the table, a bullet through the side of his head.

You rush over to his side, looking over the scene and feeling around his head. His blood is bleeding all over your hands, covering your dress and skin... he's not going to make it, as you scream from an ambulance to be called. he's not going to make it, you feel his last breath against your arm.

You cry, shaking, confused, scared. You turn to look outside the window yet can't see anything. A voice screams out to you, everyone is running outside the restaurant. You rip your dress and run, nearly falling down the stairs, knocking your head against a wall before kicking off your heels and making a dash for the back exit

Your vision is blurry as you run through the narrow space and off onto the street. Cars are swerving, trying to get out of the way as blaring lights come crashing onto the scene. You look like an absolute mess, you can feel the blood staining and hardening against your skin, forming gloves that you cant remove as you scratch at them and sob.

You fall to your knees at the corner of the road, you shake your read, James, James, James, you say on repeat before being picked up. You thrash, scream as a voice calls out to you in an even tone, "Hey, love. Shhh, it's alright, its over now. We can go home, the job is over. Thank you for being so good, thank you, my love," they speak into your ear as they dash with you in their arms, an officer points you both in the direction to medical staff.

You feel him nod and as soon as their head tips back to the crowd, you are being turned in the opposite direction. You feel overwhelmingly tired as you grip their shoulders, feeling a suit underneath your fingers tips. "James?" you call out only to hear a scoff, "Alex." the voice tells you off that has your mind jumpstarting.

"Put me, the fuck, down, Alexander Duggan." he hisses, "shut up, don't say anything."

"I'll fucking scream your name out for everyone to hear!" you threaten, being carried into another alleyway you recognize to be behind your apartment building.

"I would love that on any other occasion, love. But not when I'm trying to remove myself from a scene," Alex retorts. Entering through the shipments door and taking the cleaners elevator before setting you down on your feet, keeping an arm around your waist as you place your spinning head against his shoulder with a groan. He unlocks your apartment, you can't be bothered to know how he got a key and bolts the door behind you both before carrying you to the tub.

The Irony, you shake your head, looking down at your hands before Alex grips your chin, forcing you to look upwards. "No," he commands you, "don't look," he says before kneeling before you and helping to wash off what remains on your arms. You silently cry as he shushes you. "You're alright now, all safe. I could not believe it was you with my target. I swore that if I had known, I-I would have waited-"

"waited," you whisper. "yes, waited, love."

"Don't call me that," you spit out.

"But it is what you represent to me," Alex explains, now wipeing down your face and examining where the glass shards cut you. A part of him looks physically pained seeing you wounded. "Are you hurt?" you ask, mind on auto-pilot with the question.

"Not physically," he explains before grabbing your medical kit. "I can do it myself-"

"No. Let me do this... please," please? You think to yourself, as you watch his cold eyes stare and dress your face and hands. His touch on you if feather-light as if worried of damaging you anymore, like he hand't damaged you before. "okay," you whisper, feeling him kiss your forehead, "thank you." You shiver.

─────── · ·

You lay there in bed, staring up at the ceiling fan, unmoving, unfeeling. You hear Alex speaking to someone over the phone followed by a dozens zeros and a "...job well done." You stare, not even looking as Alexander walks back into the room in new clothes, a bouquet of flowers by your beside as he crawls into be beside you.

You feel numb... had already called in to work telling them you were taking an extended leave and left it like that... the news would be covering the "developments" of your story but you would be the only one in the world force with this truth that came into the form of kisses down your neck and curly hair tickling your cheek.

The truth whispers into your ear like a vow as you tilt your head towards the window and look outwards to the world, "Let the sky fall, when it crumbles, we will stand tall, face it all together." Yet his words contrast the melody playing through your apartment from the stereo in the living room.

You close your eyes, becoming enveloped by the darkness as their arms surround you...

"'Cause my love is mine, all mine I love mine, mine, mine Nothing in the world belongs to me But my love, mine, all mine Nothing in the world is mine for free But my love, mine, all mine, all mine.."

─────── · ·

─ · · A/N: I have another Jackal fic coming out soon! (thank you for the ask ;) )

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gremlingottoosilly · 1 year ago

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Your writing is so captivating!!!

I've seen you touch on this a bit in other asks, how would Konig respond to the reader being down to be his mate, willingly being affectionate and maybe even asking for his eggs?

I'm trying to imagine reader like leaving their nest and hunting him down in meeting to crawl into his lap because she missed him.

Or maybe she recently delivered a clutch and she just got cleared by the doctor to be able to handle a new clutch - que her running to him being like "good to go so gimme your eggs"

He parades you like a champion pet! Not at first, he thinks it's a ploy from your side, that you're just trying to make him forget about human resistance just so you strike him in the back...but time passes and you're as willing to be his mate as ever - just a little bit more nervous because you continue to serve him like a good girl, but all he does is makes you feel like a liar( When he finally makes you pass all the possible tests and you're, in fact, not trying to get him killed...he starts to be calmer and calmer, allowing you to roam around the base almost freely, as long as you don't have eggs near clutching or not. hurt. He trusts his men to behave around you, you carry his scent, after all - but if they need more convincing...he won't be afraid to punish them and you on pair, just to make sure you're staying in line.

If you're willing to accept his eggs without crying, he would be on the heights of his obsession with you! He will breed you in front of other monsters, so they could see how perfect pets behave and how they need to act if they want a good little mate on their own. You'd be so embarrassed because everyone is watching, but he praises you for being such a good girl for him, making sure that every monster in his team has the understanding of how a perfect mate should behave...you have privileges - only relative, of course, but you can roam around the base, you can annoy him at meetings(as long as you climb on his lap and claim that you and eggs were really lonely, so you just need another clutch right about now) and playing into your desires. In a normal situation, Konig brings you stuff he thinks you'd want - but if you're how willing good girl, he would actually listen to your desires! One of the perks of being his loving wifey - he would even call you his pretty girl in front of everyone!!

#cod #konig x reader #konig #yandere konig #monster!konig

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ilovetoxicfictionalmen · 1 year ago

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ALL IS FAIR IN LOVE AND WAR - PART 1

Pairing - Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

Summary - When you were attacked in your own home, you confined yourself with Jonathan to help you heal. Until you learn a sickening truth that changes everything.

Warnings - extreme NON-CON, dub con, rough sex, drugging, oral, hand job, grinding, manipulation, stalking, controlling.

Word count - 6.9k+

Notes - I've been working on this for a long time and after many rewrites, this is the first of a two part story. This simple idea turned out to be so long that I had to split it up otherwise I would never finish it. Probably the darkest story I've written. Please note story isn't in chronology order. Comments/messages are urged if this even deserves the second part please. And I'm sorry but I hate proof reading.

For the first time forever, you felt as if you’ve finally recognised your priorities. You wanted Jonathan, you needed Jonathan. In desperate need of your call for help, you visualized screaming his name. Not the authorities, not a knight in shining armor, not a God, it was Jonathan.

No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t stop trembling as you remained curled up in a ball in your kitchen. The room was as dark as the deepest corner of a cave and it was as cold as ice on this winter’s night. All of your thoughts didn’t match up with each other as if they were scrambled in a pan like eggs, you struggled to remember where and who you were.

Hesitantly, you gripped onto the edge of the counter, your knuckles turned white as you pulled your aching body up as your hands searched and patted over the counter top. Feeling the home phone in your shaking hand, the buttons flashed a dim white light, but it was all a blur to you as you dialed the number. Holding the phone to your ear with an unsteady grip, you listened to the phone ring. Praying to any God that he would answer. Right when you thought the call was going to ring out, you heard his breathing on the other end of the line for a brief moment.

Your friendship had recently hit rock bottom with Jonathan, it was your fault, you know it was. You shouldn’t have been drinking in such an emotional state, you shouldn't have dressed the way you did, you shouldn’t have looked at him in that manner. You were selfish, merely wanting somebody’s complete attention. You've always led on Doctor Jonathan Crane, the ruthless misanthrope psychiatrist who had an undying obsession with you. But that night, you foolishly crossed the line you were determined to stay away from.

“What is it?” Jonathan answered, not sounding pleased to be answering a call at this time of the night, or by you, most likely both. But you were so relieved to hear his voice that you couldn’t help but to sob out loud. It felt like a massive weight was lifted off of your shoulders yet you never felt more empty. Your voice choked as you attempted to say something, anything. “Darling? What’s wrong?” Jonathan continued, his tone completely switching as he voiced his concern.

“I- Johnny… I-I” you cried, lost for words.

Your mind was still fuzzy as you looked down at your body, your pajama shorts ripped in multiple spots and dried fluids all over your flesh. You could hear him begging you to tell him what was wrong, had something happened to you? But you were still too deep in a state of shock and confusion to say anything. No matter how desperately you wanted to beg Jonathan to come save you, all you could do was sob.

“Calm down, I’m leaving right now sweetheart. I’ll be there as soon as I can. Please stay calm darling” he promised you before hanging up the line. If he could stay on the phone with you, he would.

As the line went dead, you collapsed back onto the floor, curling back up into a ball as your body trembled in mental and physical distress. No matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t do as he asked, how could you stay calm after this?

Jonathan used the spare key you gave him to open the door and quickly punched in the security code to your alarm system. Rushing down the dark hallway, he was calling out your name repetitively and flicked on the lights in the kitchen to reveal the heavily intoxicated you. Jonathan rushed to your side and kneeled, your eyes were glued shut from fear, your teeth chattering as he slowly went to touch your shoulder. Startled, you shrieked and flung yourself back, hitting your head on the wooden counter which caused flashing white lines through your darkened sight.

“Shhhh” Jonathan soothed, pulling your body towards him, embracing you. Your body was as stiff as stone under his. “It’s just me sweetheart. Jonathan, it’s Johnny” he clarified, rubbing your back as he pressed his warm lips to your cold temple.

Your mind was still unclear with whatever hardcore substance was in your system and you struggled to keep your eyes open. Your skin felt filthy, as if you were drenched in grease. It was difficult to breathe, your chest tight and throat dehydrated. The feeling of agony weighed heavy on you, keeping you locked to the cold tiled floor. You looked at Jonathan with hesitation through teary eyes, not trusting him.

When you realized it really was him you cried into his chest, letting it all out, holding onto him for dear life. Gently cooling by your ear to help calm you down, Jonathan rocked you back and forth as his eyes wandered around the lit room. He could see the havoc of your kitchen. The utensils spread all over the counter, broken glass and water on the floor.

“I’m here, you’re safe now” Jonathan promised you and despite your disoriented state, you knew his words to be true.

Doctor Jonathan Crane was an intriguing character. Many would use precise words such as: bumptious, narcissistic, cunning and barbaric when describing him. He was a walking hazard. They’d all warn you to stay away from him, he was expressed as a psychotic genius who lets Hell rain in Arkham Asylum through his experiments for his own intellectual growth.

To you, he was kind, understanding and never failed to make you feel like the most important person in the room. You cannot lie, your friendship with Jonathan was certainly unconventional. But Jonathan was smitten by you, and you felt tenderness with the idea of always having someone there for you.

After almost an hour of blubbering on the floor, you laid back in the passenger seat in a dopey state, wrapped up in his coat as he cautiously drove you back to his house, gazing over to you every few seconds. The paranoia of that man, that monster coming back was too overbearing. Jonathan inwardly deemed that he would be able to take better care of you. He never had optimism in others, especially to the care of you. When the engine’s rumbled came to a sudden silence in the garage, Jonathan completely looked over to you, his fingertips brushing over your jawline. He grabbed your small bag in the backseat first, he’d pick up more belongings in the morning. Opening the car door for you, he wrapped his arm around you protectively and picked you off the ground bridal style.

“Do you have any idea what he gave you sweetheart?” Jonathan projected as he carried you to his bedroom, laying you on the bed. Gently, you shook your head. “Well, you don’t look like you're overdosing…” Jonathan observed, checking your pulse. “But better to be safe than sorry” he murmured.

Jonathan disappeared and reappeared swiftly, standing by your side with medical equipment. The vital signs were quickly checked. Besides your disorientation and heightened sense of fear, you showed no physical symptoms of an overdose.

“Any chest pains? Nausea? Abdominal pain?” Jonathan asked slowly and you continued to shake your head. Humming in response, Jonathan searched through his bag and picked out a tablet. “Take this” he instructed.

But you were skeptical as you squinted your eyes to the small white pill. Jonathan sighed and motioned the pill towards your lips. Your dry lips parted as he slipped the pill into your mouth, followed by the rim of a water bottle to help swallow it down.

“You need a bath, then I’ll make you some tea, okay?” Jonathan told you, caressing your forearm.

Nodding in agreement, you watched Jonathan slip into the ensuite and you heard the water running, Your body lightly trembled as you closed your eyes and when you opened them again, you were in the bath with Jonathan kneeling beside you as he ran a cloth up and down your now warm skin, his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. The water had a scent in it, lavender you believed. The steam dancing up into thin air over the water.

You looked around your surroundings and then down as you saw your exposed body. Your arms instinctively went to cover yourself as your whimpers began to grow. A hush left Jonathan’s lips as his hand intertwined with yours to help calm you. He gave you a stern stare that screamed for you to stay calm. Yet his soft eyes were begging you to trust him, you took a deep breath in and laid your head back. It’s nothing Jonathan hasn’t seen after all.

Jonathan wrapped the towel around you tightly after he guided you out of the tub, his hands rubbing up and down your shoulders as he walked you into his walk-in wardrobe. He helped you dress into your pajamas, yet the short sleeves and pants made you feel insecure. Your arms wrapped around your body and Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you. After studying your expression, he pulled out his old university hoodie and slid it over your head. You sighed in relief, the scent of him still strongly on the fabric.

Trailing after him like a lost puppy to the kitchen, he flicked on the kettle and plucked out an apple from the fruit bowl. Whilst waiting for the kettle to boil, he quickly sliced the apple into bite sized pieces and hand fed you bit by bit.

“It’ll help calm your mind” Jonathan exhaled as he poured the hot water into the herbal tea. The mug was set beside you as he watched you momentarily, waiting for the tea to cool down.

After a few minutes you took a small sip and breathed out, fresh tears pricking at your strained eyes. Everytime you closed your eyes you could see him, that monster, creature. Shifting your focus directly onto your tea, the two of you stood in silence, Jonathan’s eyes still set on you. The clock read 4:08 as its hands ticked loudly.

He took your mug as you finished it. “I’ll sleep on the couch” he stated, gently pushing you in the direction of the bedroom. You came to a sudden stop as you turned around to face him.

“Please don’t… Stay with me” you weakly begged, dreading the idea of being alone.

Jonathan’s eyes softened as he nodded in agreement and he guided you to the bedroom. He laid you comfortably on the bed and vanished into the walk-in wardrobe, returning in cozy pants and a long sleeve top. You slipped underneath the bed as his blue eyes stalked you, Jonathan slithered onto the bed and underneath the covers like a snake, pulling your fragile body towards his. Your breathing was staggered as laid your head on his firm chest, he left the lamp on, caressing your back as your tired eyes urged you to shut them but you were too afraid of seeing him again.

After what felt like hours of just laying there, even though it was only a few minutes, your breathing got rougher as the memories began to control your thoughts. Your hand wrapped around his side firmly and Jonathan looked down.

“Breathe in darling” Jonathan whispered.

“What?” you frowned, looking up to him.

“Breath in” he softly smiled, you did as he said. “Now breathe out” he continued on. Breathing out, Jonathan coached you to do it over and over again.

Your chest relaxed as you laid your head back onto his chest, your tired eyes taking over you as you continued to breathe in and out at a steady pace. He whispered calming thoughts by your ear, he was so good with words.

“That’s a good girl” Jonathan whispered as you fell into a deep slumber, free from fear just for now.

You met Jonathan at Gotham University. Everyone on campus despised him, a cocky know it all who’d jump at a debate whenever it raised on the surface. Jonathan was the first in all of his classes, no matter how hard all of the other students tried, he was unbeatable. But you couldn’t help but to be curious with his presence when you’d see him around campus. He was cute, charming if he wore the right clothes, but he was certainly a unique character. Jonathan was passionate, eager and sharp.

He was in the year above you so you never had a real reason to talk to him. But if you’d walk past him in the hallways you’d greet him, he would never reply back however, hardly acknowledge your existence nevertheless. Yet sometimes you’d look up wherever you were on campus and catch him watching you. Like you were a gazelle in an open field. Usually people would instantly look away after being caught, but he continued to stare, as if he was studying you, dissecting you apart with his ocean blue eyes.

It wasn’t until your second year when he approached you in the campus gardens, blocking off the sunlight, you looked up to the boy with dark hair. “Is it Professor Dickens or Winston that has you in such a state of distress?” Jonathan questioned you cockily, staring down at you with a sly grin, his hands behind his back. His rectangular framed glasses made him look goofy yet somewhat intimidating.

After a short silence, you responded with a light chuckle, “Dickens” and Jonathan hummed loudly.

“Ah, I do not speak from experience. However, many find Professor Dickens to be rather… rigorous” Jonathan replied, leaning over to look at the book you were studying. “I remember that textbook, it was rather unchallenging. What are you struggling with?” Jonathan asked, kneeling down next to you now to look at your jots in your notebook.

“All of it really” you sighed, furrowing your eyebrows at how he is actually associating himself with you. “I had to leave town for a few days, my grandma was very ill. Professor Dickens didn’t approve of my appeal for an extension” you muttered slightly, feeling a wave of anger at the situation.

“No issue, I was Professor Dickens star pupil” Jonathan responded, taking your notebook off of you without consent. Jonathan was all of his Professors’ star pupil. “I’ll be sure to make you the next” he grinned at you.

Your peculiar friendship rapidly continued to blossom over the months. Multiple times of the week you’d find yourself residing somewhere hidden on campus with Jonathan, sharing reports, experiments and research with one another. He became your mentor, tutor, inspiration to strive for brilliance in your education.

Jonathan didn’t seem to be as evil as everyone made him out to be. However, you quickly realized that this behavior was merely reserved towards you. Not that he ever did any romantic gestures towards you. You could just read his eyes like a children’s book. Shamefully, you liked Jonathan, a lot more than you wanted to. Jonathan was a puzzle that you had this urge to try to solve, yet at times the pieces you’d connect together felt sinister which you ignorantly chose to ignore.

To Jonathan’s clear distaste, you were already in a relationship. Daniel was your high school sweetheart, but that relationship quickly went sour as you graduated. If you weren’t so comfortable with him, you would have broken up with him at the first red flag. No one should put up with the abuse and neglect he showed you. Especially with the bad habits he had picked up during your relationship. But you were young and naive, too afraid of what life would look like without him.

Jonathan became aware of his maltreatment towards you when he noticed a light bruise over your jaw and a horrible excuse as to how it occurred. He knew you were lying by the way your cheeks would turn a few shades darker. This situation was no exception. But he said nothing, surprising with how he was always proud to state his opinion. Jonathan unhappily went along with your little lie to keep you content.

Then, Daniel disappeared into thin air. Packed up all of his belongings abruptly in the middle of the night and never saw his face again. It wasn’t a surprise really, he had a cocaine issue, most likely made a few bad friends in the dark alleys of Gotham. You weren’t sure he ran away, or if something far sinister had occurred. Nevertheless, it was a shattering experience. But you had Jonathan to lean on for support and you couldn’t be anymore grateful.

Expectedly shortly after, Jonathan confessed his feelings for you confidently yet emotionlessly. He was extremely understanding when you said that you couldn’t think about seeing people again yet and how you’d hate to ruin your friendship. Because it did mean so much to you. Jonathan only couldn’t resist keeping those thoughts inside of him any longer. Your friendship continued on like normal.

When Jonathan earned his doctorate, you demanded he’d celebrate with you. As if he even had any other options. You were going to plan him a special night, but he had already beat you to it, he was such a control freak. The night was spent at one of Gotham’s finest restaurants. He wore his finest black suit and you wore a gorgeous bodycon silk green dress. It was the first time you had ever drank with Jonathan, you had a bottle of champagne on ice to share. Traditionally, Jonathan placed his card in the folder and flashed you a grin. It was one of the best nights of your life, living in luxury, gratefully with him.

“I know I told you no gifts, but there is one thing that I wish from you” Jonathan exhaled as he parked his car outside of your apartment block. He looked over to you slowly and you could feel your heart pound in your chest, your throat tighten as if something had tied rope around it.

You knew exactly what path he was walking down, this day was bound to pounch back at you again. When else then after an unofficial romantic dinner at one of Gotham’s finest?

“Yes Johnny?” You awkwardly chuckled, the streetlamps illuminating his expression of despair.

“A kiss” he whispered, his look begging you to agree with him as he straightened his posture.

“Jonathan” you warned, breaking eye contact immediately. What else should you have expected? It was your typical romantic dinner, he paid the bill, now you had to pay up with a different currency.

“Just once… Every time I heard students snicker behind my back about how I… Couldn't pull…” Jonathan’s tongue clicked as if a drop of venom fell onto it. “I could never help but to feel embarrassed with them being correct, for once” he continued on, looking away from you in the same. “But yes, I have never had the pleasure of kissing a woman before, especially someone as beautiful as you” Jonathan admitted, sighing dramatically at the embarrassment.

“Never?” You frowned towards him, feeling slightly guilty.

As if it wasn’t as clear as day, he never spoke about his natural urges with you. A part of you was convinced that he would come out as asexual one day. It was all so extremely rare for him to get along with others, he would never do a sneaky link, especially during the academic period. No wonder he was always such an asshole to others.

“Unfortunately my brilliance in psychology doesn’t even out my ill-manners towards others” Jonathan exhaled, biting on his lips at the unfortunate truth.

Perhaps it was the champagne urging you towards him, but Jonathan just looked so sweet and innocent right now. You couldn’t help but to feel sympathy for him, especially after all he has done for you.

“One kiss…” you stated, holding up one finger.

Jonathan gently nodded and leant towards you eagerly, his hands snaked to your back to pull your bodies together. If only you could hear how rapid his heartbeat was. He was hesitant, so you closed the distance and pressed your lips against his.

Jonathan hummed, his mouth opening ajar for his tongue to slip out, subconsciously you allowed his slippery tongue inside your warm mouth. His hands slowly slid up your back as your tongues danced together in the silent atmosphere. Right as you noticed your body being drawn to him you abruptly pulled yourself away from him. The pair of you silently caught your breath.

There was a brief moment of silence, your mind still registering how intense of a kiss that was. How strong it felt when it should have felt like nothing.

“Thank you darling” Jonathan smiled as he leaned back into his seat, but his hand danced over yours and you allowed him to.

“We need to find you a hooker to get you laid” you laughed, playfully smacking his hand.

If your studies didn’t teach you much of manipulation, Jonathan sure did. He was a puppeteer, you’d never want him to attach strings to you. Considering how afraid you were of getting his claws on you, you seemed to forget the leash you had on Jonathan. He’d do anything for you, you’d be lying if you said that you’ve never taken advantage of that. But at the end of the day, your relationship with Jonathan was simple and fundamental. To his dismay, you wouldn’t have it any other way.

There was this unwritten debt between Jonathan and yourself. He gave you favor after favor without hesitation over the years accompanied by a toothy grin. Jonathan continued to mentor you in your last year of university despite having a demanding full time profession. Landed you an interview at Arkham Asylum when you were in desperate need of a job. It was only temporary to be in the forensic psychiatric department, working with the criminally insane just wasn’t your ideal workplace unlike Jonathan’s. You were much more interested in neuropsychiatry. He gave you an excellent reference for your current job. Realistically, you shouldn’t have gotten the job with a salary that good, but he made it work. Jonathan has been your rock for years, you egocentrically seemed to forget how much you really did depend on him.

It made you feel like a horrible person, but he was already clingy enough with you, not that you seemed to complain, you enjoyed the company. You’d talk most days despite your busy schedules. The pair of you would spend the majority of your free days together by exploring museums, watching theater performances or going out for a lovely meal. The blind eye would assume the pair of you were a couple, sometimes you even wondered if you were.

Jonathan hated it when you hung out with others, especially if you didn’t tell him prior. A foul word never slipped his mouth, but you could hear it all in his tone, if not see it in his stern expression. Sometimes you’d tell him of your dates just to get him to back off every once in a while. Doctor Jonathan Crane was a jealous man around you, because he couldn’t have you the way he wanted to. A part of you grew to find it stimulating over the course, because he had no control in the situation.

Yet your love life was hopeless. The vitality of your sex life purely depended on one night stands after a drunken night out. Whenever you were asked on a date, he’d ghost you before the second date. So you gave up on dating for a long time, focusing on your work instead. At the end of some nights with an empty bottle of wine, you’d think of Jonathan, the potential there was with him. But you would always feel your stomach turn, or throat tighten at the thought of being completely his.

But then, you unexpectedly fell for your new coworker Anthony Gray. Anthony was a total catch, confident, charming, respected, physically built and loving. There was this instant spark that neither of you wanted to deny, eager to pounce on the sensation. Within the workplace you found yourself sneaking around with him, kissing him, touching him, feeling him inside of you. The workplace had a conflict of interest policy, let alone a no fucking on the job policy. The two of you kept your affair hidden, there were eyes everywhere in Gotham and you’d be stupid to get fired over having dinner in the wrong place. If it wasn’t in the building, you’d be at one or another’s house. It was a thrilling sensation to keep your relationship a secret from everyone in Gotham, including Jonathan, but the pair of you were figuring out how to make it work publicly.

Telling Jonathan of your little love affair was the least of your priorities even though the relationship was growing more stable by the day. Even though you never gave him any hints of mutual affection, he seemed to be eternally entranced by you. Patiently waiting for the opportunity to have you, claim you, own you.

Unknowingly, well slightly knowingly, you distanced yourself from Jonathan. Only by missing a few phone calls from him and sounding distracted over the phone when you did answer. Typically, Jonathan picked up on this unusual behavior within a snap. Suddenly showing up on your doorstep one day as if to catch you out, with a loaf of bread in his hands.

“Oh, Johnny! What brings you here?” You chuckled, looking him up and down.

“It had been a while, so I thought I’d surprise you. Grabbed it from that market place we use to go to every weekend” he answered, heavily emphasizing on the words ‘use to’.

After an awkward moment of silence, you took a step back and gestured to him to come inside, he took your offer instantly.

“So, what have you been up to?” Jonathan asked, his tone making it sound like a demanding question.

“Just working really, going out a few times” you replied, hoping the lie will lead him down the wrong path as you pulled out the bread knife from the block. Jonathan hummed as he dropped the bread onto the cutting board, almost in a forceful manner. You turned back to him, frowning as you tried to read his emotion.

You’d think with your doctorate in psychiatry you’d be able to completely read him right now, but in moments like this, he was a wolf hidden amongst the trees.

“Everything okay Johnny?” You murmured.

There was a low groan that left his lips, his eyes twitching slightly as he debated to say what he really wanted to say. “Just backed up with a lot of paperwork” Jonathan eventually answered, spinning on his heel to pull the butter out from the fridge.

You weren’t ready to shatter his heart into millions of pieces, not yet. Especially in such an isolated setting, it made you feel anxious to the core. Just a few more weeks, of peace, of zen with Anthony. Then you’d break the news to Jonathan, perhaps your friendship too, and most certainly his heart.

You brought Anthony over to your house the next day, unaware of a lingering figure across the street who’s knuckles turned white and teeth gritted together.

After a few slow knocks, you lowered your head as you waited patiently for the door to open. You look down at your dress again, you had changed your clothes multiple times. Everything you put on made you feel ugly and insecure. The door swung open, Jonathan gave you a sympathetic look as he gestured you to come inside. His hands briefly rested on your shoulder as he took off your coat, revealing your simple yet elegant black dress. Leading you to the living room, you sat on the space gray couch, eyes looking over the small cheese board.

Jonathan wandered off to the kitchen, his back turned to you as he picked up two wine glasses and a fine bottle of shiraz. The sound of the dark red substance gracefully falling into the glass filled your ears as you played with the rim of your dress.

“So, how are you feeling?” Jonathan asked softly, standing tall as he held out your glass.

“Like shit” you mumbled, accepting the glass without hesitation and downing half of it within one big chug. Jonathan snorted lightly as he sat down next to you.

“Darling, darling, darling” he sighed, his lips resting on the rim of the glass. You rolled your eyes at his lecture like tone and expression. Feeling like he was going to scold you like a child. “You should have had me meet him first, for a third party perspective and opinion” Jonathan continued on after he took a sip.

“Didn’t realize this was mediation Jonathan” you gritted your teeth.

When Anthony didn’t show up to work one day, you found it extremely odd. Presuming that he would have contacted you if he wasn’t going to be showing up. You had messaged him a couple of times during the day but they were all left on delivered. It wasn’t until you got home from a tiring day's work that you saw the letter in your mailbox. By the time you got to his house, everything looked to have been moved out through the open blinds.

“I’m sorry darling, I am” Jonathan swore.

It was an opposing response from Jonathan. Yes, he was sorry with how negative you were feeling, but he couldn’t help but to feel happy at the outcome of your relationship. His fingertips brushed over your bare knee as you finished the glass, motioning the empty glass towards Jonathan for a refill.

He chuckled lightly and took the glass from you. The taste of grapes lingered on your tongue as you waited for his return. The glass was almost filled to the rim. Jonathan wasn’t much of a drinker, he always claimed how alcohol could kill his intellectual potential. But on nights like these, he made an exception for you.

When you were three drinks in, your thoughts and emotions came to light, just as Jonathan predicted. “I just-” you slurred, fingers trailing over the rim of the glass. Your eyes watered at the thought of Anthony and how he left you without proper closure. You blinked hard, the wine hitting you much harder than predicted, perhaps that’s what happens when you’ve hardly eaten all week. “Don’t understand” you eventually finished your sentence in a mumble as Jonathan returned with your fourth glass of wine. “He told me he was fixing things with his ex, moving across the country to be with her. I didn't even know about her…” You sighed loudly, feeling your eyes prickle and swell up.

“He’s a moron who cannot appreciate beauty, what else do I need to say darling?” Jonathan cocked an eyebrow to you, swirling the remaining drops of wine in his glass.

You felt dizzy, your thoughts were slightly disoriented as you hummed longly in return. There was a gentle sway in your body, as your tongue poked into the wine. Jonathan finished his wine and placed it on the coffee table with a clink.

Leaning closer to you, your heartbeat picked up and you could feel jittery over your skin. Were his eyes always that captivating blue? Your stomach turned, in a good way, a way you’ve forgotten about for so long.

“You deserve to be treated so much better” Jonathan confessed through a sigh, his arm snaking behind your back to pull you closer to him.

Of the few times you’ve drunken with Jonathan, he has never been this touchy. Yet, you couldn’t help but to feel a new sensation of this.

“I know, I’ll get over it eventually” you responded, avoiding eye contact with him. Yet you couldn’t help but to enjoy the warmth and security of his arm around your body.

“Do you know how a man should treat you?” Jonathan murmured, a small sly grin on his lips.

“How?” You frowned towards him in a growing blurry vision, unknowingly leaning closer to him.

“Worshiped every day, body, mind and soul” he answered calmly, his eyes slowly examining your body.

“You don’t mean that” you lightly scoffed, bringing the drink back to your lips to distract yourself, as if that will do any help.

When you put the glass down on the coffee table, Jonathan took your chin in his hand. Staring at one another, you waited for him to make a move, but he just admired you, his lips ajar open as his thumb rolled circles over your soft skin.

“I do” Jonathan vowed. Your head felt unfocused, your body felt like it was floating. This was like you were in a dream. “I can treat you so much better. I will treat you so much better” Jonathan corrected himself, now gripping onto your inner thigh instead of your chin. “Just give me a chance to show you how you deserve to be loved” Jonathan pleaded, pressing his forehead against yours. “Please” he begged softly, waiting for you to open the door for him. Your face turned away at his words, at his pleading.

On any other night, you probably would have ran for the hills. But tonight, you desperately wanted to get Anthony out of your mind. It felt contradicting with how right and wrong it felt. But it didn’t phase you what would happen tomorrow, you wanted Jonathan right now.

There was no response from you, Jonathan took that as his que to guide your face to directly look at him so he could kiss you. It surprised you with how soft his lips were, the way he hummed softly as he gently pushed his tongue into your warm mouth. After a quick stiff moment, your stance relaxed and you leaned closer to him. Your arms naturally wrapped around his shoulders to pull him closer to you. Jonathan groaned into your mouth, his hand pulled your hips over to straddle his lap.

It felt so wrong, but he was so skillful with that tongue of his. Your logic was imprisoned by your sensations right now. Soft hands running up and down your heated skin, you couldn’t resist but to moan back into his mouth. Your cunt was aching for him so you non controllingly began rocking over his already formed boner. He nibbled at your neck, causing you to giggle as you grind over him in an unsteady motion.

You lifted your hips up slightly as your hand brushed down his torso, Jonathan’s head fell back as he watched you, his mouth open. There was a slow moan from him as your hand cupped his crotch, Jonathan grinned widely, his own hands slipping down to unbutton his trousers. Quickly, your hand slipped underneath his underwear and you were stroking his firm size slowly.

“Let me take you to the bedroom” Jonathan pleaded and you hummed in a daze like state.

Jonathan picked you up and impatiently carried you to his bedroom. Giggling like a child over his shoulder, Jonathan laid you onto his bed, your flats falling off in the process. He straddled you down just as quick. The lamp was already on so you took a good look at his expression.

An animal. That’s what you saw initially despite your heavily drunken state. A predator who was ready to attack his prey and you were helpless right now, the back of your mind was hoping that you’d just sink into the bed to get away from him.

He wasn’t as gentle as you’d hope him to be as his soft hands groped your body. “What are you doing?” You murmured, as he slid down your body, his knees landing on the floor.

There was no response from him except a groan. He pulled your hips forward and scrunched your dress up. It felt like fireworks exploding up your skin, the way his fingers trailed over you. Jonathan pulled your thong off of your legs, kissing your inner calf afterwards.

“Wait…” you objected, common sense trying to snap you out of this trance, but he ignored you.

“Waited so long for this, so, so long” Jonathan moaned, crawling up your lower body until his breath reached your bare cunt.

Kissing your inner thigh, Jonathan looked at you, just wanting to take your nervous expression in for a moment. He placed your legs over his shoulders as his tongue slithered over your core. Your abdomen tensed and legs tightened around his head. His tongue zigzagged over sensitive skin, causing a rather loud yelp of pleasure. It was humiliating with how fucking good he could use that tongue of his.

Your growing orgasm built on your tummy as his tongue slipped inside your sweet hole. Your fingers gripped into his hair to pull his head away, it was just all so much, you felt like you were blacking out. But Jonathan’s head was stuck in your cunt like it was glued. He was lapping you up as if he was starving, his left thumb found its way to your clit and rubbed desperately to make you release.

“Jonathan” you moaned, eyes squeezed shut.

Jonathan only moaned in response, his mouth full of your sweet substance. You tried to hold it off, but failed miserably, coming all over Jonathan’s face without warning, your hips rocking in rhythm with your orgasm. However, Jonathan greedily ate you all up, quickly climbing on top of your body. He swiftly pulled your dress off over your head and his hands trailed over your breasts. A small laugh left his lips as he ripped off your nipple covers, his crotch pressed into your abdominal.

Jonathan smiled wickedly to you and even though you were still in your post orgasmic daze, you could see the craze in his eyes. But you were too intoxicated and horny to scrutinize him. Your arms reached out to pull him closer to you. With his smaller size, you didn’t expect his back to feel so firm. Kissing each other hungary, Jonathan’s hands quickly tried to undo his trousers.

His hips flexed back as he pulled out his size. Your lips separated as he stroked himself a few times, looking down to your entrance. Even though your vision was blurry, you could see how big he was crystal clear. You gulped heavily as Jonathan hovered back over you with his tip pressed against your entrance. Jonathan gave you a soft kiss on the lips as he began to thrust in.

“Oh! you feel like heaven. I have found paradise…” Jonathan declared through moans. He was most definitely the largest you’ve ever had. It was hurting more than pleasuring, but you were so wet. “Your cunt wraps perfectly around my cock darling” he praised, his hand brushing over your flustered jaw.

“It’s hurting” you whimpered, your body stiff underneath his. Jonathan blinked a couple of times but didn’t respond.

“You’re mine, all mine. Always have been, always will be” Jonathan grunted as he fully pushed himself inside of you. Your walls squeezed around his cock as you grumbled in agony. “You’ve finally come to realize” he exhaled, his hand brushing the side of your face as the pleasure slowly overthrew the pain.

His words seemed to have sobered you up. This is exactly what you were afraid of, this turning into ownership. Jonathan could see the glimpse of horror in your eyes, he smiled widely as he gradually picked up his speed as your canal adjusted to his size.

You wanted to throw him off of you. But your mind was so engaged in your physical sensations and drowsiness of the alcohol that you could only lay back and guiltily enjoy yourself, expressing how satisfied you were by your moans.

“Jerked off to the thought of you every single fucking night” Jonathan grumbled out, his nails digging into your flesh. “Such fucking torture” he spat.

Jonathan pushed your thighs apart as his cock traveled in deeper, groaning like crazy as his balls were slapping against your skin. His grip on your upper thighs will probably bruise by the morning. The mixture of both of your moans was heaven to his ears. You’ve never seen Jonathan smile so much, he couldn’t wipe it if he wanted to.

He also seemed to refuse to break eye contact with you, as if he was studying you or was afraid you’d run away if out of sight. His nostrils were flared and jaw clenched as he continued his pleasure-filled attack. You were pulsing around his size, his breathing seemed to stagger, pace losing its rhythm.

“Come on darling, one more time… I know you can be a good girl, come so I can” Jonathan moaned.

You can’t tell if it was a beg or a demand. His words were so gentle, but that look in his eyes was as if hell would break loose if you failed to comply. Regardless, you did as he asked, clenching as tight as you could around him as you cried out, your back aching as you swore you could see stars. Jonathan quickly followed, falling completely on top of you as his arms quickly snaked around you.

He kissed you passionately as he pumped his seed deep inside of you. When his lips pulled away from yours, he was moaning your name over and over. A wave of exhaustion crashed over you. Your eyes felt so drowsy, all of your energy completely drained dry. Jonathan caressed your cheek as your sight was quickly consumed by darkness.

What have you done?

#cillian murphy #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy x reader #cillian x fem!reader #jonathan crane #jonathan crane smut #jonathan crane x you #jonathan crane x reader #jonathan crane dark #the dark knight trilogy #dark smut #smut

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everythingpeaches · 8 months ago

Text

In Which Sirius is obsessed with Remus' mouth.

Sirius, it has become apparent, has a bit of an oral fixation.

Remus, in turn, has an unfortunate habit of putting things in his mouth.

It is becoming a problem for Sirius.

One day in transfiguration, he accidentally misfires the spell he was aiming at his white rabbit and turns James' textbook into a very fine hat.

'Oi!' The quidditch captain yells, making Sirius jump and turn away from where he was watching Remus chewing absently on the end of his pencil.

That same evening, he is caught again by Lily who is lecturing him on his attempt to bribe the fat lady to change the password to the Gryffindor tower to 'James Potter has crabs'. It's a fair retaliation to James' own retaliation from his earlier mishap with the hat, in which James had charmed Sirius' hair purple.

'Sirius, are you listening to me?' Lily asks, who is not unused to Sirius' ignorance but is particularly intrigued by the vacant look on the Black heir's usually haughty features. She follows his gaze to see Remus, sitting with Mary and Marlene, scribbling away at his Care of Magical Creatures essay and sucking enthusiastically on a sherbet lemon.

Ah. That explained that then.

The next morning at breakfast, when Remus is licking jam from his knife, Sirius misses his mouth entirely and dribbles tea down his chin in a rare display of clumsiness.

He misses a bludger and nearly falls of his broom in quidditch practice when Remus, who is watching from the stands, lights a cigarette and plucks a stray piece of tobacco from the corner of his mouth.

His friends have started to notice, even James and Peter, who are usually painfully unobservant when it comes to their fellow marauders' love lives.

Mary buys Remus a whole packet of sugar quills on their next trip to Honeydukes.

Marlene keeps asking the werewolf to roll her cigarettes for her, stating that her tongue is 'just too dry' to do it herself.

Sirius smells a conspiracy.

'You know,' James says to him one evening around Easter while Remus is sucking on a piece of Peter's chocolate egg, 'there's a way to get over this obsession you've got.'

'What? I don't know what you're talking about,' Sirius says in a very unconvincing attempt at nonchalance.

Remus licks melted chocolate from his fingers and Sirius, in turn, knocks his ink well over, covering his muggle studies homework in sticky black liquid.

James laughs, clearing up the spill with a flick of his wand.

'Just snog him already, will you?'

Sirius pretends not to hear him, his pale face turning a very Gryffindor shade of red.

The next day he and Moony are sitting in a quiet corner of the library. Remus actually has work to do, and so does Sirius but he is only pretending to study, and keeps shooting Remus looks out the corner of his eye.

'Pads,' Remus starts, making Sirius jump, 'your book is upside down.'

Shit. Remus is smirking at him, his eyes glinting with that ever-present slyness that makes Sirius’ palms go sweaty.

'Yes, well, I'm a very talented reader,' Sirius replies quickly.

'Hm,' Remus hums, flicking the page over in his own book. He glances at the text in front of Sirius, and a smirk tugs again at the corner of his mouth. 'I never knew you were so interested in flower arrangement charms.'

Sirius looks down at the book, flipping it right way round and reading the chapter title. Well bollocks. He looks back up at Remus, who is leaning forward with his chin on his palm, his expression almost daring. It gives Sirius a sudden burst of confidence, something he only ever seems to lack in the presence of the boy before him.

'There's a lot you don't know about me, Lupin.'

He's flirting.

'Is that so, Black?'

Remus is flirting back.

'Yes, lots of things. I have many interests.'

They are both leaning closer to each other, so close now that Sirius can count the freckles on the other boy's nose. His heart is beating in his ears, and he involuntary wets his bottom lip with his tongue.

'Such as?' Remus asks, his eyes darting down to Sirius' mouth and then back up to meet his gaze with an almost indiscernible arch of his brow.

'Well... you,' and with that, and a rush of giddy adrenaline, he closes the gap and kisses Remus. It's electric. He thinks he might fall off his chair.

Moony is just starting to lace his fingers through Sirius silky black hair, which feels better than Sirius could have been prepared for, when there is an almighty crash from the shelf behind them.

'Yes!' Someone who sounds suspiciously like James Potter hisses, then 'ah fuck!' And a very Lily Evan's sounding 'Shhhh!'

The two boys spring apart and turn to see James, Lily, Mary and Marlene spilling out from behind the toppled bookshelf.

'Fucking hell, Prongs!' Sirius shouts, forgetting they are in a library.

'It was Mary's idea!' James protests, receiving a smack up the back of his head from the girl herself.

'Was not,' She hisses, 'it was a collective effort!'

Remus rolls his eyes, 'You're a bunch of voyeurs.'

'Out!' Comes Miss Prince's angered shriek, hurrying towards them in a fury. '-making such a racket, get out this instant!'

The group scrambles to their feet, hurrying through the shelves to the exit. Remus and Sirius lingering only to gather their books, but before they could hurry after the others, Remus quickly grabs the shorter boys arm and pulls him close, dropping one quick kiss onto his lips.

'Took you long enough,' he mutters, and then follows the rest of the group out of the library leaving Sirius to follow behind, looking very much like he's just been struck around the head with a beaters' bat.

#wolfstar #marauders fandom #dead gay wizards #marauders era #hp marauders #james potter #lily evans #sirius black #remus lupin #wolfstar fic #remus x sirius

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myocsfanfictions · 11 months ago

Text

THE WRATH OF FIRE

House of the Dragon Fanfiction

MASTERLIST

Princess Ysilla Targaryen is the only daughter of Prince Daemon Targaryen and Lady Rhea Royce. The affection that she felt for her mother was strong, while her father had never been there, acting as if Ysilla was not even his. But she was. The dragon egg that had been put in her cradle hatched. An outcast of a dragon was born. A dragon with no legs. An outcast of a dragon for and an outcast of a dragon rider. Ysilla’s hair was dark but streaked with white. She was a Targaryen, and her wrath was not different from the one that burned inside the members of the House of the Dragon.

《 Previous - Next 》

CHAPTER 4

“Dracarys.” When Ysilla said those words, her dragon breathed fire. She had the serving girl bring her a piece of raw meat.

Dragons didn't eat raw meat.

"Sƴz, riña," the Maester told her. He had been with her for six months now. A gift from her uncle after she visited King's Landing. (Good, child)

"Kirimvose," she answered. Her eyes fixed on her dragon. (Thank you)

Ysilla had been studying High Valyrian as soon as the Maester started to serve her, but her mother did not appreciate the King's gift. She said that there was no reason for him to be in Runestone.

"Mother, please!" she complained one night when her mother expressed the wish for the man to return to King's Landing.

"We don't need him here." She had answered.

"You may don't, but I do," Ysilla said. The shock on her mother's face was visible. Ysilla usually listened to whatever her mother said. It had been a strange feeling to be stubborn with her. But Ysilla could not let her lady mother send her teacher back to the Capital.

"I'm the only Targaryen who does not know High Valyrian," Ysilla explained. Her small hands clenched in fists. She wanted to be strong in front of her mother. She had to be.

"I've always told you to be proud of your blood. First Men's blood," her mother's words made Ysilla's eyes stung with tears.

"I remember," she said. But she wouldn't have backed down. "But I need to learn High Valyrian."

"You need to learn how to hawk," her mother answered firmly.

Ysilla felt so much rage in her.

"I'm not a goat; I'm a dragon!" Her mother's dark eyes widened. Shocked, she shared a look with her cousin, Ser Gerold Royce. At that moment, Ysilla understood that the words she had heard from Otto Hightower were true. It had been painful. But she knew what she had to do.

If Father sees I'm a good Targaryen, he will love me. Ysilla was sure of that. She did not act as a Targaryen at all. Her mother wanted her to be more similar to a Royce. But Ysilla was much more of that. She was a Targaryen princess. In a few years, he would have been a dragon rider. And when she would have grown up, she would have been like Visenya. She was more than a noble lady from the Vale. She was a Targaryen.

Father would be proud of me, she swore.

Ysilla would study all day. History, philosophy, calculus, politics, and High Valyrian. With the Master of the Dragonpit, she would speak only High Valyrian. She wanted to learn fast, especially when she found out that the war on the Stepstones was over.

"Father won!" Ysilla said happily to her uncle Gerold one day in the Godswood of Runestone. "He must have flown with Caraxes and burned them all."

Her uncle observed her in silence. His beard may have hidden half of his face. But she could see his lips tight in a thin line.

"You've changed, Ysilla, since you visited King's Landing," he said, making her smile.

"The Maester says that dragons feel other dragons," she answered, looking at the red leaves of the Heart Tree, "Maybe it had been the same with humans as well."

Her uncle took a deep breath. "Why are you so obsessed with these matters? You hardly speak of other topics, if not dragons."

Ysilla lowered her eyes. No one wanted to talk about those matters with her, as no one liked her dragon, her only friend.

"I'm a Targaryen," she said, "My father is Prince Daemon Targaryen."

"And your mother is Rhea Royce," he reproved her. Does she not share equal importance?"

"Of course she does," Ysilla muttered with a flush of shame. Since her dragon had been born, Ysilla and her mother had started to argue frequently. Her mother did not like Ysill's interests.

Ysilla wished not to argue with her mother. She had been very important to the little princess. She had been a role model, and Ysilla had so much respect for her. And she had raised Ysilla as a Royce. Proud as a Royce. But she wanted for Ysilla to forget that she was a Targaryen. And she could not. Ysilla had to show her father and everyone else that her mother was no goat. And that she was a dragon.

"You know I love you?" One evening, Ysilla asked her mother about it as they were dining.

"So sudden?" Her mother answered with raised eyebrows. Rhea Royce was not an openly loving woman, but Ysilla knew her mother cared for her.

"Do you?" Ysilla insisted stubbornly.

Her mother took a breath, "I do."

Ysilla seemed happy by her words, "And I'm sorry if in the last months I've been wilful."

"I'm glad you've realized it," her mother said, but Ysilla kept talking. " Why do you don't like that I'm a Targaryen?" Her mother took a breath. She put the knife in her hand and put it back on the table, but she did not answer. "Everyone in the realm wishes to say that their children have the blood of old Valyria."

Her mother observed her in silence for a moment, "The marriage between me and your father is a rich arrangement for the realm," Ysilla's eyes grew larger, leaning forward on the table. Her mother had never spoken of those matters with her. "But your father grew insufferable here. Insufferable of me," Ysilla listened quietly, "When I gave birth to you, your hair was as dark as your eyes. And he was there. He suggested that you were a bastard."

Ysilla lowered her eyes. It could not be possible. But why would her mother lie to her? There was no reason. So it must be true. But it could not be.

"He never wanted to see you," her mother said.

"I'm not a bastard," Ysilla whispered.

"No, you're not," her mother answered. Growing up, your hair and eyes proved it to everyone. But your father never accepted that."

"Why?" Ysilla asked, confused.

"He loathes me as I do him," she answered. And he would have broken the marriage off if he could make people think you were a bastard. That's why he never wants to see us." Ysilla lowered her gaze. "He loves his ambition, Ysilla. And you are more than him."

Ysilla felt confused. It all seemed absurd to her. Why would her father hate her mother? And why did he hate his daughter because of that? He had never talked to her. One could not just decide to hate someone, could they?

"All the Kings of the Seven Kingdoms, Ysilla," asked the Septa one morning.

Ysilla took a breath. "Aegon I the Conquerer. After him, there was his son, Aenys I. His mother was Queen Rhaenys. Then Maegor the Cruel. Then Jeaherys I. He was called The Old King, or the Wise, or the Conciliator. He ruled peacefully for half a century. But he had no heir."

"So what happened?" The Septa asked.

"He had to choose between his two nephews," Ysilla remembered, "Princess Rhaenys or Prince Viserys. And he chose Prince Viserys. Now King Viserys I."

"And who is to follow?"

"The King chose Princess Rhaenyra," Ysilla said. Then she frowned. No woman had been queen of the Seven Kingdoms. And when her Uncle chose Rhaenyra, Aegon was not yet born. So, the rightful heir should have been her father, Daemon Targaryen.

He loves his ambition. Ysilla remembered her mother's words. How did her father react to the King's decision?

And the Dragonstone folly. She remembered.

"What is it with Father and Dragonstone?" Ysilla asked before she could stop herself.

The Septa's eyes widened, "That is off-topic, princess."

"But I want to know," Ysilla said stubbornly. "Why was Father in Dragonstone? Rhaenyra is the Princess of Dragonstone, not Father."

"Ysilla," her mother's voice came from behind her, making her turn. The Septa was quick to stand up and bow to the Lady of Runestone. "Stop with those questions," Ysilla observed her mother; she was wearing her riding attire. She was surely going out to hawk. Then she came next to her daughter, caressing her hair, "I'm riding out," she said, "Do you remember your duties for today?"

Ysilla nodded, "History, then sawing lesson."

The High Valyrian, she thought.

"I'll be back to dine together," her mother said, putting on her glove, "Behave."

"And be proud," Ysilla muttered. That made her mother chuckle.

"I don't need to remind you that," she said, "You never fail to be proud." Ysilla smiled, observing her mother walking toward the door.

"Be careful," Ysilla said to her mother like she always did. The little princess didn't go out to hawk that much—her pony was too little. But her mother had told her that in six months, they would have gone hawking together. Her mother loved to hunt, but Ysilla could not wait to be on the dragon's back more.

"Skori jāhor nyke sagon naejot sōvegon issa zaldrīzes?" Asked Ysilla, stammering some of the words. Not sure she remembered them correctly. (When will I be able to fly my dragon?)

"Hāre jēdri, riña," the Maester answered, observing how Ysilla's dragon liked to be next to his rider. (Three years, girl)

Three years, and she would have been able to fly. Her dragon was growing every day more, surprising everyone. But the Maester told her that he was growing fast for his conditions.

"I really need to find a name soon," she said, observing the violet eyes of her dragon. "A fighter name." Then he looked at the sky, making a little sound. Then he looked back at Ysilla, making the same sound. He seemed a little agitated, but he calmed down when the girl touched his head.

The Maester had told her that she and the creature had a strong connection. "Hae dārilaros Daemon se Caraxes." (Like Prince Daemon and Caraxes)

Ysilla looked up at the man. He had been in King's Landing all his life, tending the Targaryens' Dragons. He had seen all of them: King Viserys and Balerion, The Black Dread, Princess Rhaenys and Meleys, Rhaenyra, and Syrax, and, of course, Ysilla's father and Caraxes.

"Gōntan kepa gūrotan Caraxes lēda zirȳla, skori istas naejot Zaldrīzesdōron?" Ysilla spoke slowly, thinking about every word. (Did Father take Caraxes with him when he went to Dragonstone?)

"Hen rhinka, riña." the man answered. His tone was strange. Trying to hide anger. But it was there. Why anger? She wanted to know. (Of course, child)

He would have never answered if she had asked inquisitively, she knew. But maybe that anger could be used in some way.

"Such a vile act," Ysilla said, using the same tone Otto Hightower had used. "Dragonstone belongs to Princess Rhaenyra."

"The stolen egg was much more vile," when she turned to the man, his eyes were wide. Regretting those words. "Forgive me, princess," he was quick to add, bowing his head.

Her father had stolen a dragon egg. Why would he do such a thing?

Her dragon looked at the sky again, flipping his small black wings.

"There's no need," she answered, trying to do her best to hide the shock in her tone, "I already knew," she lied, "My mother always tells me about my father's deeds. And they are not always positive words." She thought fast. Her egg had been chosen for her as soon as she was born; that was the Targaryen's tradition. If her father had taken an egg, there was only a reason. She felt rage thinking about that possibility.

"A dragon to a bastard," she said, noticing how the stolen egg was a sensitive topic for the man. "That's an insult."

Would he really steal an egg to give it to a bastard when he had insulted his mother by saying that Ysilla was one?

"Fortunately, no bastard was born, as far as it's known," he answered, "It was just an act to challenge the King's authority."

He loves his ambition, Ysilla.

Didn't he support his brother as King? Or he didn't support Rhaenyra as the future Queen? Why did he take that egg?

"Skoros drōmon iksin bona?" Ysilla asked not turning to the man. (What egg was that?)

"Se drōmon hen Dreamfyre. Dārilaros Rhaenyra ēdas chosen ziry syt zirȳla morghe lēkia, Baelon," Ysilla felt the blood in her veins run cold. (The egg of Dreamfyre. Princess Rhaenyra had chosen it for her dead brother, Baelon)

It was such a vile act to steal his dead nephew's egg. To give it to who? If he hated his wife, who was he planning to give it to? She would have liked to ask more, but her dragon started to growl, agitated. He flapped his wings again and kept looking at the sky.

That was strange. He had never done that. He was a calm dragon, never making many sounds, but he was upset and not able to stay still.

"Skoros iksis jāre va?" Ysilla asked, glancing at the man before walking to her dragon, kneeling at his side, "Lykiri," she said, trying to gain her dragon's attention, but he wasn't listening. (What is going on?) (Calm down)

"Maester?" She asked, seeing the man looking at the sky as well. His face was dark with worry.

"Dohaeris," she said, focusing back on her dragon. He seemed somewhat drawn to those words and glanced at her with his purple eyes.

A strange feeling went down through Ysilla's back. A shiver full of dread.

I want Mother, she thought instinctively. Feeling her eyes stung with tears.

"Ysilla," The voice of her uncle Gerold made her turn with a gasp. The man was behind her. His face was pale, his hands were trembling, and on his clothes, there was blood.

She stood up, trembling. Her eyes never lived the red of the blood.

"The Lady Rhea…"

Ysilla felt cold as her dragon roared with wrath.

_________________________________________

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drarrily-we-row-along · 11 months ago

Text

Harry was a lot.

And if he was being honest, he felt like he'd always been a lot. Like the burden of his company came with far too many complications, far too many challenges for his friends and loved ones to bear. His emotions were big, his sense of duty and justice were big, his opinions of the world were big.

His body and its desires (or lack thereof) were a lot. The way he loved, obsessively, immensely, deeply, every atom of his soul devoted to reshaping itself to fit that of his beloved, was a lot (too much, always too much, and still not enough).

He was just a lot. Loving him, he reasoned, must be a fairly difficult task (it was difficult for him, so surely it would be difficult for someone else).

This dilemma tumbled around in his head as he fried some eggs and potatoes, avoiding the garlic since it did something funny to Draco's stomach. Wondering how he could possibly make himself into something less, or perhaps, if he was unable to do that, how he could give Draco enough in return for his love. Was there a way to repay someone who loved him enough to give up sex, to listen to the endless ramblings in his head, to sit and cuddle with him on the couch even when Harry's most innocent of touches caused a wave of arousal that he then ignored? How-

"Morning, love," Draco murmured, wrapping his arms around Harry's waist and leaning against him.

He swallowed around the thoughts crowding into his throat, marbles rolling around in his mouth. "Hey," he rasped, light and cheerful as he could.

Draco moved so that he was at his side, arms still around him, "what's that?" he asked softly, thumb trailing over his side.

"What?" Harry asked as he flipped the potatoes.

A finger traced the frown at the corner of Harry's mouth, brushed over the line between his eyebrows, "What's going on in that marvelous head of yours?"

"Breakfast is ready," he said in lieu of answering the question that he wasn't even sure where to begin with.

Draco caught him as he started to turn toward the cupboard for a couple of plates, "Wait," he said, throwing a stasis charm over their eggs. "Tell me?" he asked softly, eyes warm and soft, curious and just a little afraid.

And Harry couldn't stand that look, couldn't bear the thought that Draco might be wondering if it was something he'd done that had upset Harry's delicate balance inside his head. "It's just," he bit his lower lip and looked down at where Draco's hands had caught his. "I'm a lot. Asking you to live with me, to share a life with me, it doesn't feel fair to you."

He chanced a glance up at Draco only to find him staring back with that particular look of affection that made Harry want to curl up into a ball because it was too much and he wanted that affection too badly. “Darling,” Draco started.

“No,” he said, shaking his head and barely resisting the impulse to cover his ears.

“Harry,” he said, a soft huff of a laugh escaping with the sound of his name. “Light of my life,” he continued, moving closer to Harry again and wrapping his arms around his waist once more, firm chest pressed solidly against Harry’s back. “My love,” he continued.

Harry squirmed, letting out a plaintive groan.

“I love you so much,” he pressed a soft kiss to Harry’s neck and Harry couldn’t help the way his head tipped to the side of its own accord to give Draco room. “You are my most favorite human being in the entire world.” He squeezed Harry’s stomach a little tighter, “better yet, the entire universe. Getting to live with you makes me impossibly happy.”

“But-”

“No buts,” Draco replied. “I choose you, Harry. I choose this life. I want this life. And nothing you can say about it will make me change my mind.”

Harry sighed and let his body relax against Draco’s, the sweetest defeat he’d ever accepted.

“That’s more like it,” he said, holding Harry tighter. “Just love me and let me love you. What else could we possibly want?”

And when he put it like that, Harry supposed there wasn’t really anything else he could ever want.

———————