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beels-burger-babe · 3 years ago

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A Pain You'll Soon Regret - Pt. 4

***Here we go! Okay. So a reminder to everyone to read SAFELY! Please make sure you check in with yourself and your mental well-being before, during and after the fic. Know your triggers, know your limits. Be careful, dears. ❤❤ Also just a HUGE thank you to everyone for supporting this series. I am so glad you've all loved it so much. It's been a process, but I'm glad you've stuck with me throughout it 😊***

Poly!MC Summary: MC and the demon lords get in a fight resulting in MC leaving. They planned on going to Purgatory Hall until things cool off, but they never quite make it there. TW: Heavy Angst, Violence, I don't know what to tag this, but there is a pretty nasty verbal fight, Gore/Injury Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Inside the Purgatory Hall was a sight that no one had seen since the end of the Great Celestial War. The seven Avatars of Sin sat defeated around a broken, bloodied body as they held on tightly to one another with tears running down their face.

They each held on to a part of you as they bowed their heads in despair for the damage done to you and regret for inadvertently causing it to happen. They sat in silence for the first twenty minutes, simply basking in the utter sorrow that filled the room, before Satan spoke up. "L-Lucifer?" He asked with a woeful tone. "How do we fix this? C-Cause I've read all the books a-and I don't know how we can make this better." If the severity of the situation wasn't already so obvious, that fact that Satan, of all people, was turning to Lucifer for advice made it glaringly so. And then it got even worse.

Lucifer, not even looking up at his brother, squeezed your hand and he pressed his forehead against it. His shoulders shook as sobs began to come from his mouth. "I-I don't know, Satan. I...I just don't know if we can." Seeing Lucifer crack was enough for the entire group. Soon they were all leaning on one another, sobbing as they mourned what their relationship with you once was and feared for what would come in the future. In the midst of the crying, Leviathan felt a small squeeze on the hand he was holding. He quickly looked over at you and tried shushing his brothers. "I think they're waking up!" Lucifer looked over at Asmodeus. "Go get Simeon and Solomon!" Knowing that now wasn't the time to argue, Asmo merely nodded before taking off. There was some movement behind your eyelids, and you squeezed Mammon's hand tighter, but still no words or opening of eyes. Belphie ran a hand through your hair from where your head was in his lap. "Come on, Angel," he whispered desperately, "open your eyes for me. Wake up." A small groan came from you as the door flew open and Solomon, Luke and Simeon rushed into the room.

"All of you out," Solomon ordered as he shoved Levi out of the way and took his place. All of the brothers instantly tensed in defence. They opened their mouths to argue, but Solomon raised a hand to silence them. "We don't have time to argue this. Considering the situation when MC last saw you, I don't want to risk stressing them more by them waking up being surrounded by the seven of you. You can wait outside. We will let you in again if, and only if, they want to see you. Now, go," his words were quick and heated, though the wizard wasn't even looking at them, too focused on you. Lucifer growled lowly, before shaking his head and turning away from the wizard. "I hate to admit, but they-" "When he said we don't have time, he meant we don't have time!" Luke snapped and pointed at the door. "Out! Now! You should be grateful we even let you see them for this long!" Satan's head snapped towards Luke at those words. All of the rage that had been lying dormant inside of him, suddenly washed over him as he went to charge at the small angel. Luke didn't so much as flinch, even as Beel restrained him and the demon began snarling and thrashing. He did, however, react as a whimper spilled from your lips and you turned you began to move restlessly. "I said out!" he picked up the closest item to him, a pillow, and threw it harshly at Lucifer. "Take your feral brothers and leave." Lucifer glared at the child but did as asked. With some not-so-mild complaints from the others, the lords left the room. Luke stomped over to the door and locked it shut behind them. Simeon replaced where Belphegore had been sitting, and placed your head in his lap gently, as he watched your eyes begin to softly flutter open.

*** Pain and shouting. That's all you could hear and feel. What was happening around you or what even happened to you, you couldn't recall. You wanted the noise to stop. You wanted the pain to go away. You tried to open your mouth to ask for as much, but all that came was a whimper. The shouting got worst, and the ringing in your head grew and grew until finally, a peaceful silence filled the room. It was now just you, the darkness, and the pain. Or so you thought until you felt someone place your head down on something soft. Mustering up what little strength you could pull from your body, you slowly blinked open your eyes. Blue eyes. At the sight of them, you instantly felt the panic that you hadn't even realized had built up, deflate within you. Blue eyes had saved you. Of that much, you were sure. You couldn't quite remember the details. But you knew that a person with blue eyes had saved you from something...something horrible. These blue eyes in particular were surrounded by warm brown skin and framed with dark hair; making you realize that this was not the person who saved you. Simeon

Your mind provided. His name is Simeon. Simeon smiled peacefully at you. "Hello, MC. It's lovely to see you with us again." You heard little footsteps rush across the room. When you looked over you found your true saviour, Luke, looking at you with a concerned, teary-eyed expression. "Are you in pain? Do you remember what happened? Simeon said that you hit your head pretty hard, but we wouldn't know the extent until you woke up. D-Do you remember me?" You chuckled, though the sound was dry and cracked from disuse and you nodded. "Of course, I remember you, Luke. You saved me," you croaked. At hearing your voice, Luke gasped and grabbed a glass of water from the side table. He handed it to you as a white-haired man, Solomon if you could recall, helped you sit up. "Th-That's good! That means you're okay! R-Right, Simeon?" Luke stuttered tearfully as glanced up at his superior. You weren't listening though. As they moved you into a seating position, you had suddenly become fully aware of something, or rather, your lack of something. "M-My...My leg," the room fell silent as you lean forward and brushed your fingers against the bandages. It all came flooding back to you. The fight. The demons. The complete and utter terror that filled your body. The excruciating pain as you believed that you were going to be eaten alive. You gasped and pulled back as though you had been burned. "Oh-Oh my god!" you choked out as you brought a trembling hand to cover your mouth as you stared at the space where your leg used to be. "Th-they- I almost- I-I think I'm going to be sick." Solomon's eyes widened as he quickly grabbed a nearby vase and placed it under your face. You gripped onto it tightly as you spilled your stomach contents inside it. Simeon whispered small words of comfort as he rubbed your back. "Let it out. You'll feel better afterwards. " You whimpered and passed the vase off to Solomon who set it aside. Your heart was racing in your chest as your thoughts travelled at a mile a minute. Your body trembled as a few cries slipped from your lips. You felt nothing and everything at once. What were you supposed to do? Simeon, Solomon and Luke were here, and you were so grateful for them. But they weren't who you wanted. They weren't who you needed. "The brothers-" You sobbed as you gripped onto the blanket that hardly maintained your modesty. "I-I want my boys. Please? A-Are they here? D-Do they know a-a-about...about-" Solomon gently squeezed your arm as you began to sob. "They know and they're here. They're a bit of a mess, but they're here," although his tone was soft, there was an edge of displeasure in it. "We know about the fight, so we thought we would give you the choice of whether or not you wanted to see them." You nodded your head weakly. "Bring them in." Luke whined and lightly pulled on your hand. "B-B-But MC! It's their fault you were out there! How could you possibly want to see them after all of that?" His eyes were wide with both desperation and confusion. He couldn't understand how you would want to see people who had caused you so much pain. He couldn't fathom why you would want to see the men who shared the same infernal species as your attackers. He didn't know why you would rather their hellish presence over his angelic comfort. But you did. You wrapped your arms around yourself as you answered. "I don't care what they did, right now. At the moment, all I care is that they're here, which means that they must have some level of concern for me. Right now all I want and need is my significant others to hold me and tell me that I'm going to be okay," you looked over at Simeon with water-lined eyes as you pleaded. "So can you please bring them to me. We'll sort the rest out later. Right now, I just want them by my side."

Simeon's lips parted in shock of your words and, for a moment, a flash of disappointment flickered across his eyes before it was quickly replaced with acceptance. The angel smiled gently at you before placing a kiss on the top of your head. "Of course, little lamb, I will fetch them right away." From your right, Solomon let out a heavy sigh as he squeezed your shoulder once more. Simeon merely had to unlock the door, before your lovers came tumbling into the room. They all rushed over to you, quickly blanketing you in hugs, kisses, and frantic apologies. While you were buried in the chaos, Simeon sadly smiled at the group before leading both Luke and Solomon out of the room. You shushed your boys and felt your heart warm at the feeling of being in their arms once more. "Apologies can come later," you began, causing Beel to whine in protest. "We have a lot to talk about, yes. B-But right now, I just want you guys to love me and hold me," your bottom lip began to tremble as you choked on your tears. "I-I know that I'm asking for your attention, once again. A-And I know that having to share me with each other is a-a-a lot but-" You were cut off by Mammon pulling you against his chest and burying his face in your hair. "I never should'a said any of that, treasure. I was wrong. S-So fuckin' wrong." Lucifer pressed a kiss to one of your inner palms before placing it on his cheek. "But, it's as you said. This is a conversation we'll have when you're ready. For now, will you allow us all to love you unconditionally, just as you deserve?" You could only nod, as sobs overtook you once more. You were held in every direction. Kissed on your wounds, as though the magic of your love could heal the damage that was done. Praised in the gentlest and most affectionate of whispered. Caressed with hands so careful and attentive, that you would think they were holding the world. And if you asked the lords, they were. Things weren't fixed, and they weren't perfect, but for the time being, you didn't need them to be. For now, you were all together. You were all loved, and you were all alive. And just for now, that was enough.

***There you have it, folks! That is A Pain You'll Soon Regret. I plan on writing an epilogue that will probably touch on the discussion they all need to have, MC getting their new leg, and potentially Diavolo? I haven't decided on him yet. The epilogue probably will be another couple of days, but in the meantime, I hope you enjoyed this sob fest. Remember to take care of yourself and to be kind to one another. Love you all -B*** TAGLIST: @obey-mes-treasure, @holygarm, @sufzku, @rivera-tickles, @angelprotectress, @theother4, @ester-is-here, @bissshitsu, @drsquishysquich, @leviathan-is-a-pretty-name, @zxlaki, @mammons-wife, @letsblazewolf, @levislui, @gallantys,

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glowingbadger · 3 years ago

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So many thanks to my lovely followers who helped me come up with this concept! Arranged marriage has been the vibe with some of y'all lately and I am here for it.

Dimitri x Reader arranged marriage

AFAB reader ('wife', but no pronouns)

NSFW 18+

You lie in bed beside your husband- your Lord Husband, you should say -and there seems to be no cure for the anxious restlessness that's made a home in your heart. It had been like that since the moment you'd learned you had been betrothed to the infamous Boar King. A man of legendary strength and rumored temper. A one-eyed titan who had struck down countless foes with untold brutality. Yes, he and his allies had unified the continent. But great deeds can certainly be done at the hands of monsters.

He'd hardly touched you. Hardly looked at you, at first. You believed he must be disgusted by you, by this whole arrangement. But the need for an heir would be of even greater importance in the wake of the recent war, and so the most suitable arrangement (which turned out to be you) had been hastily made the moment the treatise had been signed. And so you'd come to live with the Boar King, and even to share his bed- though not yet in the fullest sense. It had taken a week for him to meet your gaze directly. When that bright blue star leveled on you, you expected to feel aggression, the rage that common folk told tall tales of in taverns. Instead, you felt hesitation. Sadness. Remorse. And a whole host of other things you didn't have names for yet.

By week three, he had tentatively taken your hand to help you off of horseback. That was the first time he ever touched you. You remember that he held you like fine parchment a little too close to a flame. After that, things had come a little more easily. You shared meals, and even a few polite words and the occasional briefest physical contact. He asked about your comfort in the castle. He assured you that anything you should need could be called for. Now, lying next to him in your bed- the bed you would share for the rest of your life -there's a geometrically perfect space between you two. A gap, seemingly exactly calculated to ensure that your bodies were unlikely to meet in the night.

"Ngh..." He groans, his body twitches and tenses. You've learned that the King suffers from nightmares, though of course you haven't let on that you've noticed. Tonight seems to be worse than the others.

"No..." he growls through grinding teeth, "Stay away... go... no-!" his fists grip the sheets so tightly you worry for the fabric. Then, you're not sure what madness prompts it, but you move closer to him. Just a little at first. Inching towards him as though approaching a frightened animal.

"My Lord..." you whisper, and your fingers just briefly graze his arm. He's warm, his body is firm and strong. You'd never allowed yourself to really look at him in his nightclothes before, but the relaxed collar of his shirt reveals defined collarbones and fair skin, but also a cross-hatched web of old scars. Some part of you had known all along, but for the first time, you truly, fully realize that he's actually strikingly handsome.

You lean over him a bit further. His head turns toward you, but he's still in the throes of his nightmares. Panting breaths cause his chest to rapidly rise and fall beneath you, and you can't help but feel the ache of sympathy in your heart. Gently, carefully, you bring a hand to his face. You can feel how tightly his jaw is clenched.

"Your Highness," you speak louder this time. His eye bolts open. His hand seizes you by the wrist hard- too hard. It hurts, and you flinch, but keep your voice down. For a moment, you fear the inevitable retribution that will surely follow. But then, he exhales, and he releases your hand.

"I- I'm sorry- I didn't realize-" he stutters out, and in this moment, he looks softer and sweeter than you've ever seen.

"You were, uhm... having a nightmare, My Lord."

He nods at you, then sighs deeply. You're at a loss for what to do. Shouldn't the King's wife comfort him in such a situation? Would he even accept any comfort you might offer?

That shock blue eye meets you, and you can tell he wants to say something. All he manages is,

"Why do you call me that?"

"I... I'm sorry?"

"'My Lord', 'Your Highness.'" it's too dark to tell for certain, but you almost think that you see a pink flush across his face.

"You're my King." you say meekly.

"I am your husband." he replies, and his eye narrows. It's not quite scolding, but there's definitely frustration there. Truly, it's impossible to tell exactly what he means by saying it, but you can't help the warmth building inside of you. He raises a hand to your cheek, and you're not afraid, though your heart races much the same. His hands are large and calloused, the hands of a man who has created miracles and atrocities, and now it's gingerly brushing your hair from your face. You move closer to him on instinct, and you notice with some relief that he doesn't shy away- not this time. Then, you open your mouth to speak, and nothing comes out at first. You sigh, and try again,

"My- My Lord Husband, you should sleep. I didn't intend to bother you, only to make sure that you were-"

He sighs once more, and his eye closes.

"Sleep will not come, I already know. Not on a night like this."

You certainly don't know what to say to that. Anything you can think of would be meaningless platitudes and hollow assurances. You don't know the man well enough to know his demons, but you're certain there are plenty. The two of you are quiet for a time, and though his breathing has steadied, he shows no signs of regaining sleep any time soon.

And so you do the only thing you can think of to do for him.

You lean forward and press your lips to his. He breathes in sharply, and you feel his frame tense beneath you- but he doesn't pull away. Your hands cradle his face as you place gentle and tentative kisses to his lips, which are far softer than you'd dared to imagine. And as you carefully move atop him to straddle his hips, you feel his hand tightly grip your thigh.

"What are you-?!"

"I thought that I would... perform my wifely duties to you, My Lord Husband. If you'll have me." you add, a slight tremor sneaking into your voice.

His pupil is wide and this time, you're certain that you can see a charming crimson flush across his cheeks. He speaks your name almost incredulously, though his hand hasn't left your body.

"You- you are under no obligation-" he stammers, and when you try to assure him, he presses on, "you're a prisoner to this marriage, don't you understand? I have no right to ask anything of you- much less that you give your body over to me!"

He seems to have completely forgotten that the entire point of this union was to produce an heir.

"I certainly wouldn't force myself on His Highness if I'm not pleasing to you..."

"That is absolutely not what I mean to imply," he says, almost laughing as he scoffs away the very idea, "I desire you as much as any sane person would, of course, but to think that you would be made to do such a thing merely to placate me-"

"I want this." you say, surprising even yourself with the strength of your words. You sound even more confident than you feel. But every word the King says to you peels away at the wall of anger and fear that you both had been content to keep between you until now, and you feel strongly about your decision. Still, he pauses a moment longer, as if waiting for you to back away from your claim. And when you don't, he draws you down to him and kisses you deeply. You can already feel his manhood rising between your thighs, but soon enough it's just one more piece of information amidst a whirlwind of sensations.

His strong arms wrap around you and his kiss travels down your neck to your chest. He fumbles awkwardly with the front of your nightshirt, so you remove it for him and he wordlessly returns to sucking gentle love-bites to your skin. Shy and curious moans and sighs surround you both in the dark of your bedchambers as you eagerly explore each other. His hands are rough, but he's trying so dearly to be delicate with you. You're more direct, your fingers tangled in golden hair and your body flush to his, creating an intoxicating friction between you.

Your lower body shifts more firmly against him, grinding his now quite stiff member between your thighs. He growls against your skin, and you feel his fingers drag down your back.

"I... ought to do more for you..."

Ostensibly, he means in terms of intimacy, but you have a strange feeling that he intends this to be a more general statement. You rest your forehead to his and murmur,

"I want you, My King."

"Dimitri." he says as his hands trail down to help remove your underclothes, "Just Dimitri, I beg of you."

And soon enough, he's pressed hot at your slick entrance, and you cling to him as he begins to push inside. He's thick- it hurts just a little, and you think for a moment that he was probably right that you both should have done more to prepare. But now he's filling you inch by inch, stretching you out around his cock, and your mind is numb to every thought except one- this is my husband, my lover.

"Dimitri..." You moan into the evening air around you as he bottoms out deep within you and the tinge of pain begins to fade into pleasure. He gives no reply other than the potent throbbing of his cock, rubbing against your inner walls as you both begin to move. You're surprised by how easy it is to fall into a natural rhythm with him. Your hips sink down onto him as he thrusts up towards you, and each pass sends a jolt up your spine. Dimitri buries his face in the crook of your neck, panting softly, holding onto your hips as you squeeze tightly around him.

Your nails dig along his muscled shoulders as you feel your climax winding tight at your core. He doesn't seem to mind- you're not sure if he even notices. His pace picks up. Briefly, his hands ease their hold on you, as though offering a means of escape. You have no need for such a thing. With a whimpering moan, you press yourself as far down onto his cock as you can until his tip hits your core, then sway forward, grinding his length into you until, with a gasp of his name, your body slacks into his arms.

He whispers your name in turn with something like awe in his voice. With his cock now coated in your climax, Dimitri loosens his restraint, and begins fucking into you in earnest. While your thighs tremble and you can hardly keep yourself supported above him, you manage to meet his gaze and smile warmly, then press a tender kiss to his parted lips. He grits his teeth, and he holds you to him with such strength that you no longer even need to support yourself. Then, he swells, twitches, and his pleasure is spilling out deep inside of you, filling you and warming you through.

You moan happily as you feel his release, then relax your body to lay comfortably against his sturdy frame. He's panting harshly still, but neither of you rush to separate from one another. Once he's just barely composed himself, he lifts your chin and kisses you with a sweetness that you never thought you'd find in a man, let alone the Boar King himself.

Though, once you've eased his spent manhood from you and laid your head against his chest, you hear his heart beating, still just a bit too fast and fluttery. You think for a moment that, yes, your husband is the legendary, ruthless Boar King. Your husband is also Dimitri, a man who looks at you with sincerity that makes your heart ache. A man you don't know well- not yet -but who you find yourself opening to more and more each day.

"I... don't wish to keep you awake terribly long..." he says, with a stilted nervousness to his voice, "but, if you're not overly tired, I- I'd like to... talk for a little while."

You smile a warm, but private smile, then say,

"I'd like that very much, Dimitri."

#this ended up way too long wtf #dimitri alexandre blaiddyd #dimitri x reader #fire emblem #fire emblem x reader #fire emblem smut #smut blog #fire emblem imagines #dimitri fire emblem #x reader #fe3h #fire emblem three houses

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imalwaystiredzzz · 3 years ago

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C5: Sisyphus happy. Yan Zhongli x Reader

#genshin x reader

Warning: Yandere behavior, unhealthy relationships

< Sisyphus happy chapters >

Once, from a time long before records and memories were written on ink and paper, Morax walked upon vast lands rich in history, watered by tears of tragedy and love lost. He turns to an old woman who stood before her destroyed village, eyes downcast and hollow on bodies drowned by the war of an unrelenting sea and the mountain that does not bow.

Morax did not understand, maybe once when he had held a goddess’ body to his own, but to him that was one thing and this is another. This is love of a mortal that does not even know who the child that cried next door nor the man that walked past their door, this is to love a complete stranger and the love that Guizhong once had when she was still by his side.

“What must I do to learn the love of mortals?” He asks, voice devoid of emotion; genuine curiosity and the hope to understand beneath.

The old woman smiled, warm and full of wisdom as if her short years were thousands compared to the god. “To love mortals, one must sacrifice eternity and learn of the passing time. Of death and partings. The gods have forgotten that they may live long but even you have an end, it is the same thing that pains us yet we find delight in.”

He didn’t understand then, those words ring true and wise as Cloud Retainer’s advice to his ears on leading the people that he had now to care for. Even so, he still finds himself wondering, “What would Guizhong have done?”

In his heart, he knows that she would’ve understood and took a moment to explain; unlike the way time leaves nothing but confusion in its wake, only pondering and no straight answers?

Even as hundreds of years pass, when all that remains of that old woman is nothing but ashes on the soil and the land had been turned to marsh, the people traveling and settling in a mountain, and the war marching on to its bloody conclusion; Morax found that answer to be much like the dumbbell that he may never come to solve.

But once more, reminiscent of his unexamined love with the goddess had bloomed too late, fate had played him right into its hands.

Because the answer had come in the form of you- still a child, a bud in the nursery of glaze lilies under the morning sun. You and your small hands that gripped the end of his robes, with teary eyes that looked at the dying people and held these strangers hand in their last breath with as much intensity for a small comfort to let them know they did not die alone.

“Will the war end soon?” Your small voice asked him, even Mountain Shaper had not the stomach to look at a child’s plea for peace and spout lies.

“I am trying to end it, as fast as I can.”

“Then this is for you.” You reached into your pocket and gave him a dried glazed lily contained in glass, “thank you for trying though we cannot give much back.” You bow, as courtesy knowing that you had just talked to the very god that protected the lands you step on and ran back to the shack that housed the sick and injured, your parents much too busy to notice you had snuck out.

Blissfully unaware that the god of geo, gripping the gift in between his hands, amber eyes following your form and telling himself that humans have much to learn and yet they surprise him nonetheless, just like as his love used to tell him.

But even answers are confusing, much like a child who asks why is 1+1=2 and the process of it, he didn’t understand till he saw you once more. Not yet a lady but not quite the child that you used to be. Now you are the girl who provides healing, growing up to be a herbalist like your mother and no longer simply holding a basket of them for your father. Carefully, with your mortal hands you comfort the injured beyond salvation as the calamities of gods that hold much power rages on.

Surrounded by dying men of the war, miasma, curses and death lurking in the air, in his eyes you remained untouched. Unblemished, as if the air in your little bubble had been purified by innocence and unconditional love for the crowd of strangers, neither pitying them for death nor numb to their tragedy. Then for a second he thought he saw her - the glaze lilies and the goddess that he loved so much and he begins to wonder if she’s come back to him through you.

“I should thank you for treating the wounded.” He tells the man before him, the bags of herbs laying behind his form and a sigil in hand, “use this in times of need, when the people are crying and I am away, surely the adeptis are quick to answer and would not turn you away.”

“My lord, Rex Lapis, there is no need to thank us. Knowing that you protect the people is enough, we are just a family of healers who help the ones in need.” Your father was a grateful man, and he can see where you get your eyes, especially your kind heart who reaches out to those in need, not because he seeks power or his blessings.

“Even so, Liyue will remember your kindness but none more so than I, Rex Lapis.”

He does not know if you remember him nor what you did, only that when he dons a mortal face to take a walk in the calms before the storm, he finds himself wandering to your garden, mostly on cold nights where you would just sing to the lilies and watch them, with unfading enchantment, bloom.

In a distant memory of an old lover, he hears the same voice but now there stood you. Now a lady, barely a woman with your innocence and mischief.

And he knows that this is wrong, mortals are fleeting as the dust, that he can never grasp with his two hands. Wherever his heart is on anything, other than Liyue, it only ends in tragedy. And oh, how ironic of it all that if you really were his goddess that had found her way back to him, why this form? Why a mortal who is a flower that will wither compared to a mountain that does not crumble?

“It’s a beautiful song, pardon me for interrupting but may I know where you have learned it?”

“Only if you tell me what the god of earth is doing in a place like this, barely even concealed?” Playful, you smile at him playfully as if you knew all the time that he had spent staring from afar and he was not an immortal that could smite the very life out of those pretty eyes.

“The breeze carried your voice and I wondered where you had learned to entice it to your will.” He couldn’t really put a finger when it began, when your singing had lured him like a siren to the depth of the sea.

“You befriend the wind, unlike the earth, you do not command rather ask of it like a companion,” was your simple answer and he smiles like he has found something long lost. You drown him in your presence, but he is not breathless; rather he sighs filled with curiosity like a child who has more to learn from the world that he had been in for thousands of years.

You who had rekindled a reason for his actions, much like Guizhong. This love does not ruffle his heart out of his rib cage, the dust settles and it is as calm as you talking about herbs in this small patch of garden late at night and as calm as the things settle falling into place in his beloved city by the gentle waves of the sea.

“What happened to them after?” You ask your husband, the snow falls outside and you are oh so exhausted to the bone as if the cold had taken all your warmth. He smiles and brushes your cheeks that lost their flush and your skin cold as a corpse, his arms glows gold in the intricate cracks, and you know that this is a bedtime story - though not quite for the night but for the long winter.

The memory scratches at the back of your mind to be remembered, but a part of you warns that you wouldn’t like how it ends.

“According to the books, the lord of geo took his love to the heavens.” He finishes with a chuckle of the irony in it all, a kiss to your temple as your eyes drop, heavy and slumber dragging you to its clutches.

Then finally, Zhongli smiles to bid you goodnight.

He watches you sleep soundly. Sleep if humans can even call it that with the lack of breathing, as still as a corpse that had died peacefully in bed while he is left to wonder of a future that had things ended the way his winter story did.

War ensures losts. Victories demand sacrifices. And the price to pay was always his love.

Zhongli would like to believe that had you died of a natural cause: sickness, accident or of old age where he would have held your aging body, he could’ve had the strength to let you pass on.

Rex Lapis would have had your funeral handled by the esteemed WangSheng, and took your passing as another promise to meet on the other side.

But Morax knows, he could never really.

Never let you go, even after thousands of years and all that you know had returned to the soil. Even when the truths of history had been forgotten by the people and you are nothing but a distant whisper to this land, a footnote to his folklore.

Not even now, when every winter is a reminder of the way he held your cold body against his chest, “I worry about you.” You told him with a supposed to be parting smile, how pitiful must he be for a dying mortal that had not even lived half their life to worry about him.

“Why are you saying goodbye, my love? You aren’t supposed to say goodbye, not yet. It’s much too early,” He tells you with a broken laugh, the war is over like you had asked of him the first time. He is an archcon, the land is his to rule and care, and you are supposed to live many many peaceful years with him, but here you are the embers of war digs its claws in your frail body and had robbed you of life.

Why does the war take and take and take and he who fights only lose things that he keeps to heart?

He doesn’t relent, even if it means breaking the laws of nature itself.

Even when you wake in spring, and you look at him with those empty eyes and ask who he is. At Least you’re here, still there somewhere and it might take thousands of years and more, when the mountain has crumbled against time, one day he believes that you will wake again with love in your lips and warmth in your hands.

#yandere zhongli #zhongli x reader #zhongli x you #yandere zhongli x reader #yandere genshin x reader #yandere genshin impact #geshin impact #genshin impact x reader

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disasterofastory · 4 years ago

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Newlyweds Part 1 (Uhtred x Reader

Newlyweds Part 1 Uhtred x Reader Warnings: none

Y/N is married to the Dane slayer, and she needs to find her place in her new life.

You heard about him from villagers and warriors. They said Father Beocca baptized him, but the water started boiling, and the God rejected him and his false faith. The servants told you he is tall and muscled. Some of them gushed about his handsome face and long hair, while the others spoke about his monstrous form and savage behavior. People whispered about his heathen way of fighting. He breaks skulls and burns villages without a second thought. He slays Danes, but his soul belongs to them.

You heard about your fate before you met him. The King told you about your duty as a noble man’s daughter. He made sure you understand your role as a link to strengthen the relationship between the Christians and the Dane slayer. You have to make sure if it comes to that point, he choices you, and more importantly, God before his false ways. After your talk with the King, your shoulders felt heavy and rigid. How could you manipulate a monster? How could you live with one?

The wedding was small and fast. Nobody cared about your dreams and wants. They gave you a pretty dress to say your vows beside the man who became your husband in half an hour. Your hands trembled, and your stomach was in knots, hearing his voice and feeling his gaze on you. You didn’t even dare to look up at him more than a moment, and it was not enough to see his face. You only saw his smile, and it didn’t calm your nerves. As the priest talked about God and union, you wanted to dig a hole under you to hide from the man next to you and from everyone else. Everybody waited for something from you, but you couldn’t do anything from your racing heart and pumping blood in your veins.

When the ceremony was over, nobody asked you what you wished. The servants helped you change your clothes and made sure you are ready for the journey ahead of you. The Dane slayer wanted to go home sooner, the better. You were happy about it for a little while because it gave you the chance to put off your wedding night until you heard servants talking about him and his way with you in front of his men. You needed all of your strength not to vomit all over your clothes. The only thing that reassured you is Father Beocca’s company. You wanted to believe with all the fibers in your body, that Uhtred wouldn't do anything to you in front of a priest.

Your Dane husband gave you a brown stallion as a gift you can use on your journey. The horse is beautiful and calm as you pet down on his muscled neck. He muzzles your palm for more apples, and you give him one more as Uhtred’s man saddles him. You use the horse as a shield from the tall, interesting accented man. “He is ready, Lady,” he tells you, smiling. “Are you need help?” He asks, nodding to the saddle. “No, thank you,” you answer, grabbing the reins to give you some support as you place one of your legs into the stirrup. With a big bounce, you hop on the saddle while the horse still munches on the apple you gave him. You lead the horse out of the barn next to the priest. His hoofs knock on the stony road, and your bags pumps to your calf. “Are you ready, Lady?” Father Beocca asks you with a gentle smile. “As I can be,” you answer with a deep breath. You look over to your parents. Your father is proud. He couldn’t imagine a more honorable thing for you to do than serve your King and your God. Your mother, on the other hand, seems worried. Her eyes are reddish, and she tries to force a smile on her lips, but you know the way things go. You saw it millions of times with other families. She will be worried for a few days, but soon she will be too busy to think about you besides your younger siblings. She has her own duties, and you can’t blame her. Your gaze jumps up to your husband, who stops his horse next to you. Your fingers around the reins become more interesting. You let your hair fall before your face to hide you from his curious stare. “If everything is ready, we can go,” he says loud and clear so everyone can hear him. He rides forward to lead the way while Father Beocca stays next to you on his horse. Soon the two men, the Dane and the Irishman join the line before you. The horse rocks you slowly as you move along with them. “Everything will be fine, Lady,” Osferth says to you with a gentle smile when you look back to see the slowly disappearing city behind the woods. You smile back at him, but the corner of your lips trembles, and you turn back to your saddle. You focus on the quiet noises as the horses’ hooves walk on the path and birds sing between the branches. You hear the three men speaking before you, but you don’t listen to their words. The only way you know the time goes because the sun shines in different ankles above the trees. Your legs become numb, but you say nothing. The only thing you need is them thinking you are nothing just a spoiled girl. If they want to reach Coccham with one ride, so be it. You won’t be the one who stops them.

Of course, it’s not the case.

When you get out of the forest, the sun is orange, and the air is colder than a few hours before. “We will sleep here,” Uhtred says, getting off of the horse, and the others follow his movements. You only can hope your legs don’t give up under you as you jump onto the ground. You adjust the reins on your horse to lead it. You tie it on a branch, looking up to the Irishman who is busy with the others’ horses. “I take care of them,” you tell him. “I’m sure you have other things to do.” “It’s not necessary, Lady,” he smiles at your offer, but you are too stubborn to give up. You don’t want to sit and do nothing while the others are busy making camp for the night. “I insist,” you answer. “I want to be useful.” “You know where the river is?” He asks you, still not sure about your offer. “Yes, I saw it,” you nod, and after a few moments, he smiles, giving you buckets. You are grateful the river is a few steps away behind the trees, seeing the three buckets. You make fast rounds with them and feed the horses. When you think they are done, you make one more round to fill the buckets, so they have water for a while before somebody comes to check on them. “You shouldn’t have done it,” Uhtred says behind you, and you jump from his voice. “What?” You ask him, starting to think over everything you have done. “The horses,” he says, smiling. “Finan is capable of taking care of them.” “As I am,” you answer stubbornly. “Come, eat,” he smiles, nodding to the camp where the others already sit and wait for the food. The short walk to the campfire is awkward. You feel Uhtred's gaze on you the whole time, but he stays silent, and you don’t want to change it. When you reach the others, you sit down next to the priest who gives you a bowl of soup. “Thank you,” you smile at him.

Uhtred wants to be careful and gentle around you. He knows it was not your choice, and you still think of him as a monster. A man who kills Danes while he is a Dane himself. He glanced at you from time to time during their travels. You were deep in your thoughts, but he caught a glimpse of your smile when you answered Father Beocca. Your voice was quiet, and your whole body was rigid on the horse, but he saw the anger and stubbornness in your eyes. He wanted to talk to you, get to know you better before you arrive at your new home, but he found it better if he gave you the chance to feel more comfortable at Beocca’s company.

“She wanted to take care of the horses,” Finan answers at his unspoken question. He looks over the Irishman’s shoulder, seeing you with buckets. Your face is focused on putting water in front of the animals and giving some fruits to others. “She is… nice?” Sihtric says uncertainly. He knows his Lord was unhappy about the King’s decision, but he knows his Lord can be convinced with a pretty face. And you are pretty. Timid for now, but definitely pretty. He has a chance to talk to you a few words before you join the others around the fire, but as you reach them, you escape from his presence. He sits down in front of you with a slight smirk when you look up from your soup, and your gazes meet. The light from the fire illuminates your features. Your eyelashes seem longer, and your lips are red from the warm soup. Your braided hair is messy after the long riding and your cheeks tinted with pink from his staring. He talks with his men, but he can’t help himself but listen to your conversation with the Baby Monk. Your voice is gentle, and you even let a small laugh out of your lips when Beocca says something. “Who is the first watch?” Uhtred asks after a while. He looks over to his men, and he sees the tiredness in their eyes. “I can do it,” you answer, surprising everyone. “We need warrior,” Uhtred answers with a smirk, and it makes you angry. “I can scream,” you answer, holding his gaze. He thinks you want to prove yourself, and he isn’t totally wrong about it, but your motivation more of self-defense. If you stay awake, and he goes to sleep, you don’t have to face him whatever he wants. “Wake me up, if you are too tired,” Uhtred tells you, and you nod.

The camp becomes quiet as the others turn on their sides to get some sleep. Finan starts to snore, but it’s not enough to suppress the noises from the woods. The air is cold around you, but the fire behind you gives you some warmth as you lean back to your arms, looking out of the darkness. Uhtred doesn’t seem so horrible. At least not yet. He is fair with his men, and aside from the jokes, respectful with Beocca. You two didn’t talk much, but he wasn’t rude to you. Of course, it can change. You don’t know how he will act without the others around you, but for now, you can only hope. The hours go by without you noticing. Your back hurts from sitting, and you could sleep, but… let’s be honest, you don’t dare to wake up the man lay not far from you. You stared at him a few times since he fell asleep. His brown hair is really long, as the others said but doesn’t look like a monster. He is tall and robust. He wears Dane clothes, but there is something boyish in his eyes when he says something outrageous, and he knows he will upset Beocca with it. He stirs under your watch, and your gaze jumps back to the dark forest. “You should have woken me up,” he croaks sleepily, moving up from his makeshift bed. “I’m fine,” you tell him. Your heartbeat speeds up, and your body becomes rigid as he sits down next to you. “Go to sleep,” he says. He thought about saying something else, he could talk with you now, but he sees your sleepy expression. “I can stay awake if you are too tired,” you offer him. “No,” he replies. “Go to my bed,” he orders. “It’s already warm.” “Thanks,” you murmur, getting up from your place. The fire is warmer as you get closer, and he was right. His bed is already warm from his body, and you can’t help yourself but sigh as you lay down on the pelts and wrap another one around you. For a few moments, you just stare before you, feeling his eyes on you. You take a deep breath, looking up at him, and you turn around so that your face doesn't burn under his gaze.

#uhtred x reader #uhtred x you #uhtred ragnarsson imagine #uhtred imagine #the last kingdom imagine #the last kingdom x reader

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calaofnoldor · 4 years ago

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Sixth Time’s the Charm [4]

(GIF credit: @teamfreewill-imagine)

Characters: Sam x F!Reader, Dean

Words: 6,107

Series Summary: All the times Dean has tried to get Sam to admit his feelings for you. (Each chapter can be read as a stand-alone.)

Chapter Summary: You offer yourself as bait for a shapeshifter hunt. Things do not go as planned.

Warnings: canon level violence, language, idiots in love, mutual pining, huffy!sam, protective!sam, slight angst?, slow burn, fluff

A/N: i am SO sorry for the wait (story of my life) but to make up for it, look, 6k words! (yeah i’m sorry about that too, i don’t know what happened there.) written for @tvdspngirl314‘s birthday writing event with the prompt “You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone?” which is bolded in the fic. this also fills a square for @spnfluffbingo!

Square Filled: Rescue Mission

← BACK UP | MASTERLIST | SERIES MASTERLIST

The fourth time was all you. Dean barely had to lift a finger. The result, however, was far more traumatic than he had planned and rather emphatically revealed the magnitude of his brother’s feelings toward you.

Much like the previous attempts, there was a case: a shapeshifter going after women who conveniently happened to fit your description. The strategy was obvious, and you’d leaped at the opportunity to both make yourself useful and hopefully take the place of what would have otherwise been the next innocent civilian victim. But of course, Sam resisted at first.

“No. Absolutely not! We don’t know enough about this guy for you to just jump into his waiting arms, Y/N!” The fervent indignation in his tone and body language was palpable. Sam was rarely one to raise his voice or sport much of a temper at all really, but lately these heated outbursts seemed to be occurring more frequently, and frankly you were getting sick of it. The false hope they momentarily granted you through the notion that perhaps he cared about you as more than a friend was one thing. What’s more, the way his voice lowered half an octave combined with the sight of his flared nostrils, puffed chest, and straining jaw always seemed to have a sideways effect on you, in that it was impossible to keep your attention on his words alone. But boy did you try.

“Sam, how many times do we have to go through this? I’m a big girl; I can take care of myself. And your wrist is still healing so it’s not like you can call the shots on this one anyway. Besides, I’m not going in alone. You and Dean will be there for backup the whole time, right?”

“’Course we will, eh Sammy?” In a strange turn of events, Dean often appeared to be the one with a more jovial outlook recently.

Sam merely nodded and continued his heavy breathing. He glared down at his bandaged left wrist, the result of skirmish with a couple of wraiths, as if it were the root of all his problems. Then he looked up and through densely drawn brows, those magnetizing multicolored eyes pierced yours, his countenance bearing a charged and sullen expression of pensive exasperation as his jaw visibly tightened. You swallowed and could not for the life of you find the will to look away.

“So it’s settled then,” Dean proclaimed jubilantly, “Unless… you’ve got another reason you don’t want Y/N playing bait, hmm Sam? Maybe something you wanna share with the class? Or, you know, I could leave…”

“Dean, stop it. You’re not helping,” you quickly admonished before steadying your gaze back on the taller Winchester, “Look, Sam, have I ever let you down?”

“No. Never.”

“And do you still trust me?”

“Of course,” he responded immediately in a ‘what-kind-of-a-question-is-that’ tone, at which you simply raised your eyebrow to send him a reciprocating ‘then-what’s-the-problem?’ look.

“OK fine,” Sam huffed out a big breath, “But you’re not taking any risks! Anything seems off at all, just… promise me you’ll wait for me and Dean and keep us in the loop?”

His pleading eyes were so earnest and you’d truly never been able to say no to the giant puppy before, so you offered him a little smile and said, “Cross my heart.”

Sighing, Sam rubbed his face, looking lost in thought for a moment until he spoke up again, much more reserved and hesitant this time, “Do you still have that uh… ring from… that time?” Dean muffled a snort at his brother’s expense but you both ignored him, completely accustomed to his nonsensical teasing by now.

“Uh yeah, I- I think so.” The uncertainty in your voice was a lie. Of course you still had the ring you’d once used to pretend to be married to Sam Winchester. You may or may not have tucked it away in a special place for safekeeping.

“Good,” Sam nodded curtly, “I want you to wear it. It’s silver. I’ll wear mine too and Dean already has his. That’s how we’ll know that we’re still… ourselves.”

“OK, yeah that’s a good idea,” you agreed, trying your hardest not to linger on the memories.

“Well look at you two! Getting hitched again so soon-“

“Shut up, Dean,” you and Sam cut him off together.

When the meeting was adjourned and you were about to part ways to prepare for the upcoming hunt, something inside you forced you to call out his name, “Oh and Sam!” He turned around at once, questioning gaze somewhat urgently searching yours for a sign of what might come next. You stuttered though, feeling suddenly self conscious, so the next words you uttered were not much louder than a whisper, “Be careful with your wrist.”

Sam smiled, his dimples making your fingers twitch with the need to caress them. “I’ll be fine. You just look out for yourself. Remember, we’ll be right behind you.”

Somehow you both didn’t hear the groan Dean emitted as he rolled his eyes to the ceiling and prayed to whoever was listening, ‘Good lord, someone give me the strength to survive another day with these imbeciles.’

There was only one diner in the tiny Pennsylvanian town, and seeing as you were starving by the time you got there, the three of you were forced to make do with soggy fries and questionable milkshakes. As you ate, you went through your game plan once more, which essentially consisted of waiting until nightfall to visit the bar from where the previous girls had gone missing, while Sam and Dean shadowed you covertly.

Before you left, you took a quick trip to the loo and when you returned, Sam was stood outside alone, a broad smile upon his face.

“Where’s Dean?” you asked as you began to walk out the diner, expecting to find the older brother waiting impatiently in the parking lot by his precious car, but the Impala was gone.

“He went back to the motel, said he had something to take care of and that we should go scope the place out first.”

“But I thought we agreed to-“

“Yeah, well change of plans, you know how it is,” Sam replied casually with a shrug.

Little red flags started fluttering in your head, urging your eyes downward to locate the silver band on his finger. You frowned when you found it there untouched on his right hand; Sam almost never interrupted you, not even when he was absorbed in the foulest of moods.

Apparently sensing your hesitation, he added, “I mean, he made a good point. Maybe if you familiarize yourself with the surroundings first, you’ll be able to take the guy out faster.”

Sam was still smiling at you, but it felt all wrong. You couldn’t explain it, but there was something missing from his rainbow eyes. The colors were all there, but they lacked luster and warmth, a delicate twinkle that you’d learned to associate with the beautiful, heroic yet self-doubting giant of a man. Never had you seen that breathtaking magic replicated elsewhere, nor had you ever seen Sam without it, which was why you were almost completely certain that the man before you was not the real Sam Winchester.

But weaving within you was a thread of doubt, insisting that you couldn’t just pull a gun on your best friend because of something as trivial as… a feeling? No, you needed to test your theory. And so, bracing yourself with a deep breath, you slowly reached out your silver-equipped hand to do something you’d grown accustomed to resentfully abstaining from: touching Sam’s bare skin. You aimed for the large target of his hand, deeming it the most inconspicuous of places (given that he was wearing his hunters’ uniform and the only other visible option would’ve been his face or neck), but Sam was faster. Just before you were able to graze his skin with your ring, he caught your wrist in his much bigger hand and pulled it away, twisting your arm until it was locked painfully behind you.

“You think you’re smart, huh?” the shifter snarled with a flash of its eyes, moving in real close as he used Sam’s immense size and his own superhuman strength to easily constrain you.

Even so, you stared up at him defiantly, unafraid, “Sam and Dean will be back.”

“That’s the plan.”

Sam’s sneering face and threatening voice were the last things you saw or heard.

You had no way of determining how much time had passed when you unceremoniously came to in what looked and smelled to be an underground sewer. As your senses sharpened and your muddled brain began to size up your current plight, you nearly scoffed at the clichéd style of your captor. Sat on a peeling wooden chair, manila rope bound your wrists together behind your back and tethered your ankles securely to each of the seat’s front legs.

Ignoring the ache in your head, you set about strategically testing the knots and the integrity of the wood. If only you could reach the silver blade in your boot. But your attempts were interrupted by the reappearance of the shifter, whose shoe hit something as he stepped before you. A metallic clang echoed through the confined space as a result and you followed the sound to find your coveted knife on the ground, far beyond your reach.

“Fucking hunters, always think they’re so clever, always one step ahead because it’s their game. Sure, we might be the monsters but you’re the predators! So let’s see how you like being the prey for once.” Shifter Sam’s upper lip curled up in a way that seemed so foreign to you as he leaned forward to rest his hands on either arm of your chair, caging you in.

The malicious glint in his eye left you with no qualms about affronting this being who, for all intents and purposes, appeared identical to the man you’d recently discovered you were in love with. Lifting your chin, you glared up at him brazenly, “If you’re so keen on being the predator then why am I still alive? What are you waiting for?”

“Why your knight in shining armor of course!” he exclaimed, backing up as he stood to his full height and gestured to himself with both hands. “You think it was a coincidence that all those women looked like you?”

The shifter’s narrowed eyes were alight with amusement and a ripple of fear surged through your body. You were in much deeper than you or the boys had anticipated, though years of practice helped you keep your voice steady and bold, “What did you do to them?”

“Oh, I gave them a fairly painless death, don’t you worry. They were just stepping stones on my way to you. See, the Winchesters owe me a girlfriend, so I figured I’d take the closest thing to theirs. But imagine my joyous surprise when I got into this big lug’s head and discovered that he’s in love with you! No, actually it’s more than that. He’s obsessed with you; you never leave his brain! Every other thought and memory is about you... Well, it’s either you or his brother, but oh, it’s gonna kill him to see you die before his eyes. I might’ve been able to replace my dead girlfriend, but I don’t think Sam here will ever come back from losing you.”

Stunned into silence, the stupid influx of misguided hormones pumping through your veins forced you to focus on maintaining a neutral expression as he rattled on.

“And you feel the same way, don’t you? So this really will be a double kill. It’s OK, you can let it all out. I might be a monster but I’m not one to deny the dying their chance for some last words. Besides, you can say it all while looking into the eyes of the man you love.”

“Fuck you,” were the only words you could trust yourself to spit out at him.

‘Sam’ laughed, but it was nothing like the laughs you normally pulled from him. It didn’t radiate like sunshine or replenish your soul with glee. Rather, it was chilling and conniving and despite the mimicry of Sam’s beautiful voice, you immediately decided that you never wanted to hear it again.

“Not feeling too talkative, huh? Or maybe you’d rather wait until he gets here in the flesh to make that anticlimactic confession of love? That’s alright, I can just tell you more about this dumbass’s feelings for you.” The shifter chuckled with delight, as if every word brought him nothing but pure joy. “Man, he loves you so much, it’s insane. I’ve never been inside the skin of someone so in love. And I thought I really loved my ex. Afterall, this whole revenge thing is for her. But I gotta tell ya, I’ve got nothing on Sam Winchester. Did you know he thinks you were made specifically for him? You ever feel like that? Like you were just destined for someone? Cause Sam does. That’s how he feels about you.”

“Why should I believe you?” you challenged, growing tired of the inadvertent response his words were eliciting. Your heart was pounding in your neck, core trembling at the mere possibility of Sam genuinely feeling the way he’d described. But you knew better than to trust a monster, and one who was in pursuit of maximal vengeance no less. Still, those rose-colored thoughts resonated within you, and you stumbled to dismiss them as they bubbled up, one after another like a game of emotional whack-a-mole.

Shifter Sam smirked, “Yeah, you’re a cynical one, aren’t you? You know everything he said in that marriage counseling session was true. You kinda hurt his feelings when you just brushed it all off. Even big brother Dean’s been trying to get him to confess his love for you. You must’ve heard them arguing about it at some point? They weren’t exactly being discreet.”

Choosing not to respond, you simply scowled at him.

“No? Still in denial? Perhaps you need details… You ever notice how he always sits across from you whenever you’re doing research? It’s because he thinks you’re gorgeous when you’re focused, and it gives him an opportunity to admire you without getting caught. And why do you think he lets you call him Sammy, huh? Yeah, he might not let it on but he fucking loves it when you do, makes him feel all tingly inside. And you remember that cop who hit on you? Captain Anderson, was it? Sam wanted to break the guy’s nose just for touching you. Oh and why do you think he asked you to move into the bedroom closest to his? It’s so he can keep track of your nightmares. He likes to keep you close because it makes him feel like he can protect you better when you need it.”

By now, your ‘neutral expression’ must have surely mutated to betray your shock, and you couldn��t have answered if you tried. The shifter didn’t seem to mind either way. In fact, he appeared to be having the time of his life.

“And it’s not all pure thoughts, let me tell you! Oh man, buddy boy here has dreamed up plenty of X-rated scenes with you, ranging from obnoxiously romantic to just plain obscene. You name a position and he’s imagined it, in high-definition detail,” he embellished, tapping an index finger against his temple, “His mind is like a library of pornos starring the two of you, although he’ll never get to live out any of his fantasies, will he? It’s a shame really; some of these are really hot... Ooh, I’ll have to borrow that one,” he said with closed eyes, as if a figment of Sam’s imagination was playing through his head in that very moment, “Maybe my girl and I can re-enact it while we’re still in your skins-”

“Shut up, just shut up!” you finally bellowed in protest.

Sam watched the bathroom door attentively after you’d disappeared through it, unable to contain the upward jerk of his lips when he saw you walking back out of it. Heartwarming relief had become his body’s intrinsic response to seeing you safe and sound.

“You ready?” he questioned when you made it to his side.

“Yeah, I’m good.” God, even the sound of your voice made him happy.

Once you got back to the motel, Dean plopped down onto one of the full-size beds, exhausted from the drive. Within a matter of seconds, snores began to fill the room, and Sam chuckled under his breath as he sat down around a wobbly table with you to continue your research on the shifter’s victims, hoping to find something else that linked them together or a clue as to where they might’ve been taken.

It wasn’t long before you inhaled a revelatory gasp and abruptly clutched Sam’s wrist to show him what you’d found. But your grip was harsh, causing him to hiss in pain and do something he’d never before done: recoil from your touch.

“Oh, I’m sorry, does it still hurt?” you asked nonchalantly, smiling up at him innocently.

Worse than the pain in his fractured wrist was what felt like sirens blaring in his head. You were always hyper-cognizant of his injuries and exceedingly careful around them, sometimes even more so than himself. Sam looked you over subtly, eyes landing on the silver ring still upon your finger. Perhaps his mind had been playing tricks on him and all that tender attention he thought you’d shown him was simply a mirage of his own wishful thinking?

“It’s fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.” Sam sent you a tight smile, to which you responded with a dazzling one of your own. It was beautiful but something about it felt off. In the past, you apologized profusely if ever you found yourself the accidental cause of his discomfort, no matter how indirect or insignificant the case, but right now there wasn’t a single speck of concern in your eyes. Indeed, the more he looked into them, the more he struggled to recognize the person staring back at him.

In a flash, Sam had you up against the wall, a silver blade held against your neck. He looked down to see the metal sizzling there, burning your flesh, and cursed himself for failing to notice sooner.

The noise woke Dean from his slumber and what he saw when he opened his eyes was equal parts shocking and amusing. “Whoa! At least wait till I’m out of the room! And isn’t that a little kinky for your first time?”

“Dean, it’s not her. She’s not Y/N,” Sam grit out, “She’s wearing the ring but she’s not Y/N.”

His brother’s brows knit together as he rubbed the sleep from his emerald greens. “Wha- How did you know?”

“She was acting… weird.”

Dean scrambled off the bed, making a quick call on his phone to ensure you really were missing. He paled when a robotic voice over the line told him the number he was trying to reach was no longer in service.

It was then the shifter decided to speak up, “You know, the real Y/N would have liked this, you pressing her up against a wall?” she murmured suggestively.

“Shut up. Where is she?!” Sam slammed her body against the flimsy motel wall once more and dug the knife in a little deeper. In his panic-stricken state, he barely registered her remark, being driven entirely by a one-track mind at present.

Shifter Y/N grimaced slightly, glancing down at the knife, “Maybe if you stop cutting into me with that, I might consider telling you.”

“How did you get the ring?”

“Oh, this little thing? You like it? It’s imitation silver, but otherwise nearly identical to the one on the real Y/N’s finger. You see, we’ve been following you for a while now.”

“Who’s we? Where did you take Y/N?!” he demanded incessantly.

“My boyfriend’s got her, but don’t worry, he looks just like you so I’m sure she’ll find her accommodations to her liking,” she retorted with a smirk.

Sam’s heart lunged in his chest and his mind began whirring with endless possibilities of escalating dread. Had you been deceived and captured by a shifter pretending to be him? Were you being hurt or tortured by someone who looked exactly like him? How would you ever be able to look at him the same way again? Of course, you’d know it wasn’t Sam but the damage would still be done. You would forever remember his face as that of someone who once hurt you, who tried to kill you. That is, if Sam could make it to you in time.

“Don’t worry, you’ll get to see her one last time. That’s actually why I’m here, to take you to her when the time is right,” the shifter added casually.

“I will end your miserable fucking life! Tell me where she is right now!” Sam roared before pressing the blade further into her neck, the veins in his forearms ready to burst through his skin.

“Hey, hey! Sammy, ease up! We need her alive, alright?” Dean bounded over to his brother and after quite the struggle, managed to assuage him enough to release his vice grip and replace it with silver chains that shackled her to a chair.

“Sam, maybe we should also be asking ‘why’,” Dean mused as he fastened the end of a chain against one of the beds.

With a shake of his head, Sam avowed through grinding teeth, “I don’t fucking care. I have to get to her.”

“And what if it’s a trap?”

“Then I’ll find her myself.”

Dean scoffed in disbelief as he turned to his usually wise and level-headed little brother, “Oh yeah, and how’re you gonna do that? Where would you even start?”

“I don’t know!” Sam exclaimed in exasperation. Then, after a pause of desperate deliberation alleged, “Shifters like to make their lairs in sewers, right?”

Taking a step closer, Dean maintained his challenging tone, “So what are you gonna do, just wade through the entire town’s shit and piss until you find her?!”

“If that's what it takes, then yes!” Sam looked like he was about to eat his brother alive.

“Aww, that’s so sweet,” shifter Y/N interfered from her seated position before them, raising her chin to meet Sam’s eyes, “Don’t worry, handsome, I can tell you she feels the same way. But unfortunately, by the time you get to her, I don’t think she’ll be able to tell you herself. In fact, you’ll probably hardly recognize her anymore… so you might want to keep me around, if only as a souvenir of your soon-to-be-dead girlfriend.”

Sam couldn’t contain himself anymore. Despite looking like a carbon copy of you, the evil gleam in the shifter’s eyes made her easily differentiable, and so Sam held back nothing when he lunged across the distance, knife in hand ready to do some real damage. However, Dean pounced with him, having predicted his brother’s violent eruption and felt his shaking wrath, knowing a little too well just how rash he could be when it came to you. Still, it took all of Dean’s strength to pull Sam back, sending him a stern but knowing look once he did.

“Sam, stop!” His low voice rumbled as he went into authoritative big brother mode, “Listen to me, you wanna save Y/N? Well so do I, but this is not how we do it! Now I know it’s hard, but I need you to calm down, alright?”

Sam’s massive chest was practically at his chin as he heaved ginormous breaths. Though his body language was still offensive, his hazel eyes were filled with fear and devastation when they looked toward his brother, “Dean, if I don't get to her in time, I’ll...” Clenching his jaw, Sam made a fruitless attempt to calm his tremoring frame and quell his tumultuous emotions. What would he do? Sam wasn’t even sure himself. All he knew was that every cell in his being was currently screaming at him to get to you, to make sure you were safe and soothe away any of your pain. There was nothing he wouldn’t give in that moment to simply know you were alright and to hold you in his arms. He knew you could look after yourself, but for once he had a terrifying feeling that even you were in over your head, that you might actually need him this time, and he’d be fucking damned if he let you down.

“Woah! Hey, hey! Sammy, look at me! That ain’t gonna happen, alright? We’re gonna find Y/N and we’re gonna bring her home in one piece, you hear me? We’re the Winchesters, man! We’ve faced the end of the world. What’s a couple of shifters got on us?”

‘You,’ Sam thought, ‘They’ve got you.’ But he appreciated Dean’s pep talk nonetheless and nodded in response as a fresh surge of determination swelled within him.

“Alright then,” Dean nodded as well, “Why don’t you let me give her a go?”

As Dean’s silver blade cut into the detained shapeshifter, Sam flinched with every moan and howl of agony. He knew it wasn’t you, but she still had your voice and your perfect face. Yet not a second was wasted on the feeling of relief when they finally managed to get a location out of her. Sam nearly tripped over himself in his haste as he snatched the Impala’s keys and his gun before flying out of the room with a jumbled order for Dean to stay with the monster.

“Well, if you’re not gonna admit your feelings for the giant lumberjack, I guess you’re right. Maybe I should stop yapping and get to prettying you up for that first and last date of yours, huh?” Shifter Sam prodded your cheek with a switchblade.

You said nothing. At this point, you had a sneaking suspicion that physical pain might be more bearable than the psychological torment your imprisoner had been so keen on. It was one thing for you to torture yourself by entertaining the slim possibility that Sam might return your feelings for him, but to hear such outrageous perceptions from a creature who could read the inside of his mind like a paperback novel, and conveyed with such tantalizing conviction… well, it just about broke you.

And knowing that the shifter was yearning to coax a confession out of you simply to cause Sam as much anguish as possible made you more resolute about your refusal to submit, beyond the need to protect your own sanity.

One shiner and a slash to the thigh later, however, you heard a loud clash. Shifter Sam paused his handiwork and began to turn around, “Could your knight be here ahead of schedule?”

‘Dammit,’ you thought. The Winchesters were usually capable of being stealthy when necessary but in case it really was the sound of them making a blunder or encountering some other form of resistance, you figured you’d buy them a distraction.

“Wait, wait! You’re right, OK? Maybe I do feel something for Sam, but even if I told him, I think you’re forgetting… This is Sam fucking Winchester we’re talking about here. He’s been tortured by the devil himself. You really think killing me is going do much damage?”

Your abductor had now given you his full attention, leering at you with a sly smile, so you continued, “Besides, you picked a fight with the Winchesters; don't expect to live to see tomorrow.”

Right on cue, a hulking blur of hair and plaid came barreling in, growling ferally as he grabbed the shifter and threw more than one brutal punch against what appeared to be his own face. The silver ring on Sam’s hand made contact with skin and his shifter counterpart groaned in pain.

You nearly forgot about your ceaseless work of untying the rope that cuffed your wrists together as your looked on in shock. Why Sam hadn’t just shot him with a silver bullet was beyond you. He was smarter than this. There was no need to drag out a monster’s death if a more efficient option existed. But as he continued to engage his clone in hand-to-hand combat, it appeared almost as if he was venting his frustrations on the shifter, as if he drank up every ounce of hurt he was able to inflict. But his high only lasted so long and shifter Sam soon regained his balance, making use of his supernatural invulnerability and superior strength.

“Sam!” you screamed as the shifter threw him across the room.

He tumbled up just in time as the shifter meandered over, “So nice of you to join us, Sam. You know, Y/N here was just telling me about-“

Sam didn’t wait for him to finish, choosing instead to tackle him to the floor with a loud grunt. While they wrestled on the ground, you worked furiously at the knots behind you, wincing with every hit Sam took though it was becoming hard to tell them apart.

When Sam finally drew his gun, the shifter was able to divert its barrel and a shot rang out futilely. Catching a subsequent elbow to the ribs had Sam falling to his knees and you watched in horror as shifter Sam once again gained the upper hand, sending the gun flying out of Sam’s grasp. The binding around your wrists was just about undone when Sam seized a stray rusty pipe and swung it against his counterfeit. Shifter Sam was incapacitated for a brief instant but quickly returned to form with some vicious hooks and a couple of well-placed knees.

With your hands finally free of their restraints, you staggered over to the gun, the chair still attached at your ankles. As you took aim, you shouted, “Sam, get down!” before you shot his mirror image through the heart.

Sighing, you slumped to your hands and knees whilst the real Sam sat up with his back against a wall, gaping at you with a look of awe. Yet before he even caught his breath, he was up and gliding toward you, cradling his left wrist at an awkward angle.

“Sam, your wrist!”

“It’s fine, are you OK?” he swiftly dismissed your concern, cupping your face with his good hand as he examined the darkening bruise around your eye.

You ignored the palpitations in your chest and placed a hand upon his wrist, “Yeah, I’m fine. He wasted more time playing mind games than anything. You know villains and their monologues,” you joked, trying to ease his tension and the deluded self-imposed guilt you knew he must’ve been brewing in.

As if to prove your point, Sam lamented, “God, I’m so sorry. I should have known. I should have gotten here sooner.”

“What? No! They were miles ahead of us, Sam. The whole thing was a set up; this was their hunt. How could you have known?”

Rather than replying, he released a breath and busied himself trying to help you out of your binding.

Back at the motel, after icing your eye and stitching up your thigh, you insisted on re-wrapping Sam’s wrist while Dean took care of shifter Y/N’s remains. But when the older Winchester returned and spied you and his brother sitting together on a bed through a crack in the door, he couldn’t resist the chance to exercise his espionage skills.

“How did you know she wasn’t me anyway?” you asked as you gently wound the ace bandage around Sam’s swollen forearm.

“I just…” He looked down at your nimble fingers upon his skin and smiled unwittingly at their tender touch, “had a feeling.”

Sam’s sunflower gaze locked onto yours for a frozen instant and something about his soft expression made you forget what words were, until he cleared his throat, “Did you um- did you know he wasn’t me?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed, smiling for some strange reason. Perhaps you were just glad to see his trademark twinkle return to those otherworldly eyes. “Pretty soon after actually. I… had a feeling too.”

Sam’s dimples made every ache in your body disappear as that twinkle glistened in full force, “And how’d you know which one to shoot?”

Well, that dampened your mood and brought you back to the task at hand, “Oh, I don’t know, maybe because you kept grimacing every time you used your left wrist?” Although your words had a bitter force behind them, the pressure beneath your fingertips never increased and Sam had almost completely forgotten about his pain.

You, on the other hand, were reminded of your struggle to reconcile with what had happened since his question prompted a restored and growing frustration.

It had been bugging you the whole time and you felt compelled to confront him about it because storming in alone with a bad wrist, ready to throw hands with an out-of-his-league monster was really not Sam’s style. Something must’ve gotten into him and with everything the shifter had told you, you couldn’t help but wonder. Nevertheless, you were a little afraid of how he might answer, so Dean had to lean in closer to hear your next words.

“Why didn’t you just shoot him?”

“W-what do you mean?” Sam stammered out after a pause.

“Sam, you have a broken wrist, but instead of sending Dean or using your gun from the get-go, you came in like a madman and went after him with your fists!” Your voice was full of incredulity though it also carried an undertone of anger.

As Sam picked up on that reproachful tone, you could almost feel the telltale signs of his puppy dog eyes coming on. “He used my face to deceive you, to hurt you. They manipulated us. I had to- ...I mean, he killed those women just to get us here. He had it coming!”

Your hopes plummeted. Of course, Sam was ever the righteous man. Why would you assume his brashness had been purely born out of a need to avenge you? Though regardless of his reason, you were still upset about his self-destructing behavior, “Yeah, but you had to have realized you were in no position to be the one to give it to him, right? I mean, you might’ve looked the same but he was juiced up on monster superpowers, Sam… which meant he was stronger and faster, not to mention uninjured, in his own territory, and apparently the only one with a sound plan.”

A breath of laughter left Sam’s lips though there was no smile on his face. Here he’d been on a mission to save you, but you were the one who’d ended up saving him, again. You must’ve thought he was comically stupid and pathetically useless. How could he possibly think he was worthy of you? “I guess I should thank you for saving my ass again, huh?”

“What?! No! That’s not what I mean. Sam, you’re the one who saved me! And I’m beyond grateful for it, really I am. I just wish you didn’t hurt yourself more in the process.” You finally finished up with his wrist wrap, securing the final ends with a clip, and letting your hands linger on his for longer than necessary, momentarily distracted by the disparity of size between them. Sam didn’t appear uncomfortable though, as his fingers twitched closer to yours and he made no move to pull away.

He couldn’t help but smile again when he noticed the sincere concern in your eyes that was previously absent in the shifter’s. “Yeah well, what was it you once said to me? ‘Your ass will always be worth it’?”

“And if I remember correctly, you once told me you don’t do things on hunts that make your injuries worse,” you quoted him back with an arched brow.

“Yeah well, I guess this is payback. Now you know how I felt.” A playful grin made his dimples deepen and you clenched your jaw to refrain from gushing over the ridiculous cuteness of this ‘giant lumberjack’.

“You’re an idiot.”

“As long as you’re OK,” Sam answered assuredly, and you nearly melted when his free hand caressed your cheek for the second time that day, big thumb tracing a feather-light path below the purpled skin.

‘You’re both fucking idiots,’ Dean groaned internally from the other side of the door. He knew he had no choice but to up his game.

thanks so much for reading! feedback is greatly appreciated!

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diofasolia · 3 years ago

Text

{Always}

{Shattered! Dream x Reader}

Shattered! Dream by @shattereddreamsau

Writings by me

Today (8/7) is Shattered! Dream's birthday and I decided to post a writing I did last year—which is also the reason why I eventually join in the tumblr

Because back when I wrote this story, I found Dark Cream comic, which made by amazing @zu-is-here

Her creations give me the inspiration for the writing

The story is long (it has like 2000 words in it) and may be a bit cheesy, but I'll be happy to know if you read the whole thing (◡ ω ◡)

******

Before the story start, I want to ask you a question.

Do you believe that the worst person can change?

Oh! How awkward, sorry, I ask the wrong question.

What I meant to ask is—

Do you believe that the best person, the kindest person in the world can change?

Maybe…all it needs is a tiny push?

The harsh whipping hits in my abdomen again. I kneel on the ground, thinking how deep the scar might be from that blow.

"What're you doing!? Look at your king when I'm talking to you! Such a piece of useless trash!!"

"I apologized, My Lord."

Raising my bruised neck, I gaze at the former guardian of positivity. Those eyes that used to hold the tenderness, now only fill up with hatred.

"Where're those fricking basters!? I told you to track down my brother and other Sanses!"

"I'm sorry, My Lord. They escaped. I can't find where their location is–"

Not even waiting for my sentence finished, another powerful punch land on my face. I watch as a tooth fall out of my mouth. Blood dripping down my chin.

"Worthless! Can't even do a little task like that!"

Multiple kicks and insults throw at me. The numb feeling slowly occurs in my torso as I curling up into a ball.

Closing my eyes, the memories from the past arises in my mind, bringing me back to the day that I seal my fate.

"Dream? Earth to Dream!"

"(Y/N)? What's wrong, love?"

"What's wrong? I've called your name for five times! But you didn't answer to me."

Dream scratches the back of his skull, looking a bit embarrassed.

"Is that so? I'm sorry, (Y/N)! It won't happen again, I swear!"

I cuddle Dream close, letting out a giggle.

"It's fine! I don't really mind it. But Dream, you tend to space out recently. Is there something on your mind? You can tell me everything, you know that, right?"

Giving me a kiss on the cheek, Dream smiles gently. He assures me that there's nothing to worry about. It’s just the task of guardian makes him a little exhausted.

"Well, if that's the case, go on and get some rest! I will inform you if something was up."

"Okay! Thanks, (Y/N), I'm glad I have you by my side."

"Me too, my dreams and hopes."

It's been quiet in Dream's room. He must be very tired. I knock on his bedroom door, telling him to wake up.

"Dream, I know you're tired. But you still need to eat."

"Dream? Are you awake yet?"

There's no answer.

Guess I’ll have to get into his room.

Yet no one is there, only an opening portal hanging in the air.

A portal leads to Dream's corrupted universe.

"I'll show you, brother. I know what you're feeling…I know what you're going through…"

"No! Dream, stop!! You don't know what you're doing!!"

Two vague voices shouting in the distance. I begin to run like my life is in danger.

What the heck is going on here?

What is this dreadful feeling?!

I'm too slow.

The half bitten black apple lay on the ground. I watch in horror as the small tendrils creeping out Dream's eye sockets. His painful screech rings in my ears.

"Dream!!!"

I reach out to him, hoping that I can comfort Dream in my arms. The positive energy…they gotta do something, right?

"What…? Nightmare! Let go of me!! I need to…to get Dream!!"

"No! You can't get near him now, (Y/N)! You'll…you'll get hurt!"

I thrash in Nightmare's hold, screaming at the top of my lungs.

"Dream!! No! Dream!!!"

"What's wrong, love?"

My teary eyes stare up, it's…Dream's voice.

But it sends an unknown coldness down my spine.

"Ahh, you're crying! Good, keep doing that."

A sadistic grin spreads on Dream's face.

"I love it."

Nightmare is already sobbing, begging for his beloved brother to come back. I walk step by step to Dream, putting on the best smile I can muster.

"My love…Dream…please, come back to me…! I love you. I know you're strong enough to resist those negative feelings…"

Dream cackles loudly. The tentacles wrap tightly around my neck, pulling me closer to him.

"Go back? To my weak self? (Y/N), when did you become stupid? Why would I do that?"

"I've already past the point of no return."

A bucket of freezing water splashes on me. I must have passed out during the abusing session.

"Wake up."

"Get clean up, we're leaving."

I pick up my sore body, stumbling across the lonely hall that me and Dream live in. There's no one here except the two of us.

"Make a choice, (Y/N). Will you join me? Or will you prefer to disobey me like my coward brother?"

"I'll go with you."

I want to weep, yet I can’t even shed a single tear. I shouldn't be upset. After all, it's me who decided to follow my corrupted lover.

Filling up the bathtub, I submerge myself in the steamy water.

"Why, (Y/N)!? Why are you side with him!? Open your eyes! Dream doesn't love you anymore. He's just using you!"

"It doesn't matter, Nightmare."

"Great job, (Y/N)! You make this AU full of despair and miseries! I always know you're my favorite soldier!"

"It's my pleasure to serve you, my lord."

I scrub my blood-stained skin, the wounds sting because of the soapy water. Some of the old gash reopened, making me yell in frustration.

"We can save Dream! Don't lose any hope, (Y/N)!"

"How? There are barely things we can do. It's over, Nightmare. Look at yourself! You transfer back because Dream shattered! How are you gonna turn him back? By let someone else eats a black apple again?!"

The white dirty bandages wrap around my mess up torso. Why am I even bother treating my injures? They sure are going to reopen soon anyway.

"No matter what you say to me, I won't change the path I've chosen, Nightmare."

"I've already gone far enough."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

I hate it so much.

The smell won't disappear no matter how many times I wash it over and over.

I hate it.

My hair smells like those disgusting goop on Dream.

Why can't I get rid of this sickening stink!?!

Throwing the bottles at random direction, I tug my hair till I scream out.

"What's with all that noises in there!? You better finish your business soon, I'm losing my patience!"

I hate it.

"I deeply apologize for making you wait for such a long time, my lord."

I wish I can understand your pain sooner.

"Whatever, time to leave."

I'm sorry I couldn't save you.

"My lord, where are we going, may I ask?"

Dream's left eye glows in excitement.

"I find out where those sneaky scums are hiding."

With a wave of hand, Dream opens the portal leads to an unknown empty place.

No one is left out.

Nightmare, Ink, Blue, everyone's here.

"And I'm going to give them a pleasant encounter."

But today is a little different.

Then all hell breaks out.

Nightmare's starting to transform. The dark gooey substance covering up his body gradually.

The same routine as usual. Nightmare pleads Dream to stop his actions while the former guardian of positivity just laugh it off, a bit talks here and there.

"Miss me, dear brother?"

The crazy laughter of Dream rings in the air.

"Yes! Finally, things are getting interesting!"

While Dream focusing on battling with Nightmare, I have to handle the two other skeletons.

"I know deep down you don't want to fight us, (Y/N)! Let's just drop our weapons, okay?"

Ink creates a bunch of arrows, ready to launch them at Dream. I block his charge immediately, slashing Ink's arm with my sword.

My silence is always my only answer.

"No one's going to get near Dream."

I continue to attack Blue. We've already been through this conversation many times.

"How…how's this possible?!"

Dream can only defense himself from Nightmare as the latter one keeps on firing attacks. It looks like Nightmare gets more advantage of the battle.

"Seems like you can't control your tentacles very well yet, little bro."

Nightmare mocks, resulting Dream to lose his temper. He strikes at Nightmare blindly, only to receive a powerful blow in the guts.

"Dream!!"

I rush to Dream, who’s looking more exhausted than usual. From the way how he’s panting heavily, I know he's already losing too much strength to fight.

"Get away from me! I don't need your help!!"

The attack is sloppy but I didn't dodge it. Dream can beat me all he wants after I get him to safety.

Even if it means I can possibly die.

"My lord, I apologize, but we have to move to another universe again."

Dream growls at me.

"It's you who are dragging me down!!"

They're still following us.

I'm whacking to the ground in a flash. A heavy boot stamps on my ribs harshly.

The nasty cracking sound and my piercing shirek fills in the air.

"You're no longer useful to me."

I watch as Dream disappears in a portal. He doesn't even spare a glance at me. Leaving me bleeding and slowly dying on the ground.

"I've told you."

Nightmare's lurking shadow towers above me.

"Oh no, Ink! We must save (Y/N)! She's…!"

Ink put a hand on Blue's shoulder, shaking his head solemnly.

"We can't, Blue. Remember, our priority is to capture Dream."

"Please, Night…"

I find myself pleading to Nightmare.

"Don't…kill Dream…"

"You and I both know that's an empty promise, (Y/N)."

Three skeletons begins to move towards the portal that opens by Ink. Before they leave, Nightmare whispers in a quiet voice but loud enough for me to catch.

"…he's in Dreamtale."

How much will you sacrifice for protecting your fallen love?

"You really are dumb. You know that?"

"Or you're just enjoy me breaking you apart bit by bit?"

"Don't you scare of your own nightmares?"

"I deserve it."

"I'm already living with it."

"You will always be my fading dreams."

"It's my own redemption."

"Surrender now, Dream. Then we can put an end to this whole mess."

My time is running out.

"Heh, I thought you know me well, dear brother. You should get the answer by yourself now."

"…goodbye, my poor little brother.

I pray to you, God. Let me see him one last time.

I can't save him the last time.

It's always a miracle how accurate the portal can lead to.

"(Y…Y/N)?"

This time, I'm going to save Dream.

There's no pain anymore.

"…at least…you……say my…name……one…last……time…"

Crimson blood drips down my penetrated torso. I think I see Dream's crying. But that might be just my own tears.

Forgive me, Dream.

My collapsing body falls forward, landing on the soft grass surface before me.

(3rd pov)

"Nightmare, I need your assistance."

"I thought we're enemies now."

"There's a method I want to try. It might succeed to bring Dream back."

"Well, I'm here to listen."

"She's just a tool."

"Nothing else."

"Because I know him well. The extreme emotion is the only possible way to get things right again."

Dream mutters to himself like a broken recorder. Staring the wrecking body of yours, his non-existent heart begins to hurt.

"I refuse! That's too dangerous! You surely will be dead in this terrible plan! Besides, how can you so sure he'll behave like you predict!?"

"It's worth it. I'm doing this for the whole alternate universes, and him."

"But…you…"

"Wake up! I demand you to wake up now! (Y/N)!!"

"It's not…worth for your own life."

"Don't pity me. Pity for the one who can't help himself in his own nightmare."

"Wake up."

"Don't leave me…alone, (Y/N)…please…my love…"

Ahh, it must be the time when he transfers into this horrible creature.

Nightmare, who’s now in his uncorrupted form, widening his eyes.

"…congratulations, (Y/N). Your suicidal plan…works."

Dream doesn't recall when’s the last time he breaks down.

No one dare to speak a word, except Dream drowning in his own pitiful cries.

"Always."

"I don't understand…he's hurting you, (Y/N). Are you still…in love with my brother?"

You look at Nightmare with a smile, replying to him like it's the only correct answer in your mind.

#my writings #solia's writing #shattered dream #shattered!dream #dream #shattered dream × reader #sans x reader #sans x y/n #ink #blue(underswap sans)#nightmare #fanfic #I think Shattered is kind of a special character me #hope you guys enjoy the reading uwu #tw violence #tw angst #tw death #tw a bit abuse mention

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chanelsebbie · 4 years ago

Text

𝗩𝗶𝗰𝗲 | 𝘀.𝗿.

✝ Warnings: SMUT, manipulation, dub-con, innocent!reader, age-gap, dark!bishop!steve rogers, branding.

✝ Masterlist

✝ Summary: After being caught committing lustful acts, y/n is brought to the bishop for reconcile.

✝ A/n: Reader just turned 18, this is sinful, if you are offended, please don’t read. With that being said, after reading this, you best chug a gallon of holy water.

𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖓𝖊𝖊𝖉 𝖆 𝖇𝖎𝖌 𝖌𝖔𝖉

𝕭𝖎𝖌 𝖊𝖓𝖔𝖚𝖌𝖍 𝖙𝖔 𝖋𝖎𝖑𝖑 𝖞𝖔𝖚 𝖚𝖕

Florence + the Machine, Big God

“No! Let me go!” the girl with a small voice ordered futily, the sound echoing off the large corridors as the nuns pulling her along payed no mind.

She fought against them, but it was useless, for it would only make their conviction worse. She had sinned, and like everything, sinning came with a grave price. Especially at the young woman’s academy.

She knew the bishop would be cross. Not only for her sin but for the timing. It was in the late hours of the night, but there she was, caught red-handed and in nothing but a snow-white bra and panty set, being dragged through the empty halls of the institution, everyone else sleeping.

Soon enough, she was faced with the large wooden double-doors of the bishop’s office, the lion knocker on the door seeming to snarl smugly at the girl as if it knew her fate.

One of the nun’s calloused old fingers wrapped around the handle clutched in the metal feline’s mouth, before knocking three times, the young girl counting absentmindedly.

A harsh and inharmonious voice called out an ill-toned ‘Come in’. The girl could have sworn she was on the verge of a panic attack. What she had done was wrong, but why did it feel so good?

The door was opened by one of her captors, walking her in before throwing her to the ground, her knees scraping up against the stone floors as she let out a pained yelp. She refused to look up, knowing that his eyes would be trained on her.

“Archbishop Rogers,” one of the nun’s began, “We caught this young lady committing an act of lust, and demand her to repent and save her faith plagued with desire.”

The man stood up from his working desk, setting his pen down, stepping in front of the trembling girl, almost anticipating her to look up at him.

“Leave us, sisters,”

His voice sent a tight shock through her spine, making her scramble to her knees, her ass resting on her heels, folding her hands in front of her, waiting as if she were about to be struck.

As soon as the great wooden doors closed, the bishop took a deep breath and began to speak.

“Tell me,” he starts, “what is your vice?”

She quivered at the question, embarrassed to admit what she had truly did wrong. But in knowing that the longer it took to get it out of her, the more torturous the punishment would be.

“I-” she cleared her throat, “I h-have committed a lustful act,” she swallowed hard as she heard the man above her sigh, beckoning her to continue, “I feel as if I’ve been consumed by demons. The devil has put thoughts into my head... scandalous thoughts... and it creates such a tension between my legs,” she took in a shaky breath, “I can’t help but touch myself to relieve the pain.”

His jaw clenched at her confession, crossing his arms.

“Do you understand the gravity of your actions?” he catechized her, making her nod her head ‘yes’.

“Yes, Archbishop Rogers, I do.” she now had the courage to look up at the man above her, “I am willing to do whatever it takes to be right by the Lord’s name,”

His crossed arms unraveled, one of his hands going down to cradle the girl’s cheek as she leaned into his touch like an obedient dog, desperate for the relief and to bear no malice to her God.

When she looked up at him with her doe-like eyes, full of hope, there was a glint of guilt.

“First, recite ‘Hail Mary’,” he commanded, her head now hanging low again, not noticing that his hands were now reaching his pants, the leather of his belt coming undone.

“Hail Mary, full of grace,” she began, “The lord is with thee-”

Her face was suddenly jerked up, his hand wrapping around her head before pushing her forward, her open mouth suddenly filled with the mass of his cock, only half of her mouth consuming it.

Her tongue squirmed as she tried to pull away, but the archbishop’s strength was unparalleled to hers, her struggles futile. Her hands went to his thighs to anchor herself.

“A demon had infiltrated your mind, my child,” he grunted, “I know how to rid you of this evil, but you must do as I say.”

She did the best she could to nod her head, before getting pulled back by her hair.

“Did I tell you to stop reciting?” he growled, “Don’t make me start you over,”

“Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit-” she was pulled forward violently back on his cock, deeper his time, his tip touching the back of her throat as she gagged, tears welling up in her eyes, doing her best not to bite down.

She was pulled back once again, “of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary-”

Tears were now spilling down her face like a river, her face flushed as his cock seemingly went down her throat, the groans of her superior above her making her whimper.

“Mother of God, pray for us sinners now,”

He didn’t pull her in this time like she was expecting, “and at the hour of our death.” she finished, panting as she winced at the archbishop’s killer grip on her hair, “Amen.”

“Remarkable job,” he praised, before standing her up, taking her hand and leading her to his desk, before harshly pushing her down against it, smirking at her gasping reaction.

“P-Please? Haven’t we done enough?” she questioned, pleaded, earning her a slap on her ass, getting pulled up chest to back with him as his lips reached her ear.

“I am a vessel of God,” he hissed, “And he lives through me as I do him. I’m cleansing you...,”

His fingers made their way under the hem of her underwear, pulling them down, her dripping cunt coming into view, the archbishop squatting down after pushing her back on the desk. She whimpered at the feeling of his breath against her sex, Rogers letting out a dark chuckle before leaning forward, licking a torturous strip across her slit.

“God, you taste so good,” he groaned against her pussy, “why the fuck do you taste so good?” his rhetorical question made her clench.

She let out a soft moan at the sexual touch that was for once, not her own. He did this several more times before he stood straight back up again.

She whined when she felt his wide tip tease her entrance, circling his cock, the anticipation almost painful, his breathing echoing off the expanse of his large office. The moonlight shown through the stained glass windows, reflecting on the expanse of her back, making the archbishop all the more attracted to her seemingly supernatural glow.

“Plea-” she was cut off by a loud moan ripping its way through her throat, the feeling of being stretched out so far painful.

“Fuck! Fuck, you’re so tight-” he cursed into the open air, his hands latching onto her hips when he bottomed out.

He didn’t grace her with the opportunity to adjust, before he started to move, slowly, making her feel every ridge and vein.

“You better start praying,” he coaxed, her head nodding.

“O-Our father, who art in h-heaven, gl-glory be thy name,” she whined out, making the man behind her rut his hips harder and harder with each verse, “hallowed be th-thy name. Thy kingdom c-come,” she paused to catch her breath, earning her a harsh tug on her scalp.

“Didn’t tell you to stop,” he growled, bushing harder and faster inside her.

“thy will be done, on earth, as it is in h-heaven, g-give us this day our da-ily bread and... and...,” her brain was fogged with pleasure as he was getting pounded into, Rogers annoyed at her reluctance.

“Don’t tell me you forgot,” he degraded, “don’t make me start you over,” his pace slowing down.

She whined before starting again, “forgive us our tr-trespasses as we forgive those who trespass against u-us-”

She clenched around him, making him let out a genuine moan, and it was the most angelic sound she had ever heard, a coil tightening inside her as she cursed silently.

“Come on, princess, we can finish it together,” he offered.

“P-Please,” she gasped, gagging on air as she did her best to keep a level head and know what she was supposed to say next.

“And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil.” they said in perfect sync.

“Come on, so close, just-” before he could finish, he released inside of her with a yell, his head thrown back in ecstasy.

The warm feeling in her gut made the coil inside her snap as well as she fell off the deep end, long and passionate moans leaving her lips as she trembled and tensed from such an earth-shattering orgasm.

The archbishop walked in front of the lit fireplace, poking at it with a fire poker before setting it down, the pointy end positioned over the fire.

The girl thought nothing of it as she sat in an armchair, covered in nothing but a blanket as she gave a dopey smile to the nude man approaching her. He picked her up, before sitting himself down, placing her in his lap.

Her head rested against his chest as he gently played with her hair.

“Am I cleansed?” she questioned, nudging herself closer into him.

After a small amount of time, he gave a quick, lack-luster response.

“Yes.”

“What happens if the demons come back? If my thoughts turn sinful again?” she whimpered at the thought.

“Well, I have a way I can make sure they don’t.” he smirked to himself, “Stand up, will you?”

She did as she was told; his perfect little obedient pet. Before she could question anything, she was grabbed by the wrists and slammed up above her head, her back against the wall next to the fire place, Steve reaching over and grabbing the bow heated fire poker.

It clicked for her as her eyes widened.

“W-Wait!” she squeaked, looking at the red-hot end of the fire poker, his fingers wrapped around it tightly.

When the scalding metal touched the skin of her breast, she let out a pained cry, a sickening sizzle ringing through her ears as she sobbed. The burning touch seemed to last for ages, before it was finally brought away, but the pain never ceased.

The shape made her stomach turn, the man pulling the girl in an embrace as she sobbed, shushing her.

There, over her right breast, was the mark of the lord. A blistering cross, that would be an eternal reminder of their shared moment together.

“In the name of the father, the son, and the holy spirit,” Steve spoke, right before her world went black from shock.

#steve x reader #steve rogers #steve rodgers #steve rodgers x reader #captain america #chris evans smut #priest!steve #dark!chris evans #dark!steve smut #dark!steve rogers

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heywardsarchive · 4 years ago

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Before You Go - [Harry Potter]

Warnings: angst, grief, death, insecurities, anxiety, sadness, alcohol, if I missed any pls let me know!

Summary: Harry lost his lover to the second wizarding war and his mind is uneasy and filled with regret and sadness as he goes through the last of her belongings.

a/n: Letters are in bold and italics, memories are in italics

Word count: 2.3k+

Based off of ‘before you go’ by Lewis Capaldi for @iliveiloveiwrite‘s songfic challenge! I hope you like it:)

Pairing: Harry Potter x female reader

*****

Harry sat on the sofa of his apartment, nursing a bottle of beer in one hand, staring, dazed at the television screen, not paying attention to the movements of the characters. His mind was wandering. The war was over but he was still reeling from the effects of it. He lost so many people he loved, it wasn't his fault but he couldn't help but blame himself. If only he was quicker, smarter. If he didn't let voldemort in he could have stopped sirius from dying. If he just surrendered himself to the dark lord, he could have stopped Fred's death, remus' and tonks too. So many others would have been saved.

The deaths of Fred, Sirius, Remus, Hedwig and others killed him inside but none hurt him as much as hers did. Y/n l/n. The only woman he truly loved. He loved her with every inch and fibre of his being. There was no part of him that didn't ache for her touch. He didn't want her to die. He would have done anything to stop her death, but he couldn't help it.

He tried convincing himself that he hated her. Hated her for leaving him, hated her for saving his life giving her own instead. Hated her for putting his life over her own, which in Harry's eyes was a hundred times more worthy then his. He tried, but he knew he was just kidding himself. How could he hate someone as perfect as her? She put everything above herself.

Every memory of her faded in his mind. All harry could think of was what he should have said when he had her in his arms, feeling her touch on skin. Staring into her (e/c) eyes. Shining with love looking into his emerald green ones, her fingers in his unruly raven hair. If he thought hard enough, he could still feel her lingering touch. But it wasn't enough. He thought of everything he could have said to her. How he could have told her that he loves her, how he wanted to marry her one day, have children of she wished, how he would give everything and everyone to the devil for her. But alas, there were many things that were left unspoken.

Regret. That was all Harry felt. No other emotion but sadness, grief and regret filled his body. He didn't know how much you were hurting inside, too wrapped up in his own head, forgetting the one he loved. Y/n took care of him although she herself was broken, beyond repair with the heartache she had suffered. Losing her older brother and parents to a death Eater attack wasn't easy on anyone. She smiled like nothing was wrong, it was as if everything was okay in her life, as if no pain filled her heart . Her smiling face plagued Harry's mind. They said time can heal, but that was a would that Harry doubted would ever heal.

Harry wished that there was something he could have said to her before she died and left him and all others behind, going to a happier and safer place, or so Harry liked to think. In his eyes, she deserved nothing but love and support. He wished he was more present in her life, wishing he could have done something to ease her pain.

He took another swig of the beer in his hand and closed his eyes. He thought that her death was worse than anything in the world, but in reality it was the idea that she died hurting inside, completely broken and with the thought that she was alone was what killed him more.

He walked to his room clumsily, not really drunk but a bit tipsy. He walked to his dressing table and removed a box from the drawer. He lifted the lid and went through the contents. It was the last piece of y/n that he possessed. Having no kin left behind, she left all her belongings to Harry, Ron and Hermione.

In the box Harry pulled out a few letters addressed to him. He opened the first one and read it for the tenth time since he got it. It was dated 1994, their fourth year. As he read the contents, his mind flashed back to the day the incidents occured. He remembered it clear as day, the Yule ball. He was clumsy and didn't know how to dance, but with y/n as his date, how could he not have fun?

Dear Harry, I know I will never have the guts to send you this letter, but maybe one day you will get to read this.

Today you took me to the Yule ball, we went as friends, I guess we'll never be anything more than that. I guess that's ok though, atleast I can still be around you. Wait, that's creepy. But you get the picture right? I really like you Harry. I want nothing more than to be your girlfriend but I don't know if you even like me that way. Maybe I'll confess to you one day, who knows? You looked really good today Harry. In the green dress robes, they really bring out your eyes. We matched too! Mother sent me a dark green dress which I love. I hope I get to wear it soon. Hermione is calling me to sleep now, I will see you tomorrow Harry. Lots of love, Yours, Y/n.

Harry closed his eyes and a tear fell from his eyes onto the paper, blotting the ink. He missed the way you smiled when you read a good book, or danced along to sweet music, or how you convinced him to make a snow Angel when it snowed back in 5th year. The memories filled his mind, he didn't know if he was happy about it or if it was too painful to remember.

It was 4th year, the Yule ball was in a few days. Harry still had not got a date. There was only one girl he had eyes for but he was tok afraid to ask her. He saw multiple boys her out but she seemed to decline all of them. He gathered his gryffindor courage and walked up to y/n. "Hey, y/n do you wanna go to the ball with me?" She was about to reply when Harry's nerves kicked in and he quickly added, "as friends ofcourse." He noticed her face fall but he didn't think much of it. "Yes Harry, I'd love to." She smiled and walked to her next class. Harry stood there happy that she agreed but also internally slapping himself that he asked her as friends when he wanted more.

Harry then remembered the time her asked her out, it was their fifth year and y/n had stood up for him against the toad face umbridge. He had to resist the urge the urge to kiss her then and there during class.

Harry stopped y/n outside class. He grabbed her hand and pulled her aside. "Harry, what's up?" She asked him, cocking an eyebrow. "I actually have to ask you something." She gestured for him to go on. "Willyougoonadatewithme?" Harry looked hopefully. "What did you say?" She looked confused. Harry took a deep breath. "Will you go on a date with me?" He repeated, slowly. "Yes." She grinned. "I have potions now, but I will catch you later." She kissed Harry's cheek and left. Harry watched her retreating figure with a smile on his face and his hand on the spot where she kissed him.

Harry was now lying on the bed rummaging through the box, finding y/n's belongings. His breath hitched when he found the pendant that he gave her in their sixth year for their one year anniversary. All their memories filled his mind and all he could think of was y/n's face, which in his opinion was the most beautiful face in the world.

He closed his eyes, dropping the box in the process. He bent down to pick up the contents when he saw a picture fall out of a book. It was a picture of him and y/n. He smiled at the sight of the picture. It was taken in their sixth year after he told her he loved her. He missed the old days when things were a bit better.

He opened the diary and flipped through the pages. It had notes on y/n's life, some random pictures here and there. Harry then reached the date may 25th 1997. It was the date she lost her whole family. He read the words written with blue ink. Each word on the paper was a gaping wound on his body issuing life blood.

I lost everything today. I don't know why I am writing this down but maybe it will help me cope. I can't break down now. I need to stay strong for Harry. For Ron and Hermione too. They're counting on me. I have to fight with my life against that horrid dark lord. I have to. To avenge the death of my family.

I can't be weak. Not now. I can deal with my own problems later on, after the war. I can't let my anxiety and insecurities take over my mind. Not now. Not now.

Once the war is over, things will get over. I know Harry can defeat him. I belive in him. He's so strong, faced so much loss at such a young age. I could never survive that much trauma. I admire his strength, I wish I was that strong. No point dwelling in my faults now, we have a war to win.

Harry shut the book, unable to read further. He didn't understand why y/n felt that way. She never showed it. He couldn't comprehend how someone so strong and brave could put themself down like that. She called him brave, when he was far from that. He kept lashing out, removing his anger on everyone. But she didn't do that, she didn't cry, kept everything inside for his sake. She was the strong one in the relationship not him. Harry felt guilty once again, like it was his fault. He felt he didn't do enough to help his love out of her cage of insecurity.

Harry wished he had done more, said more and stopped her hurting, or reduced it. He wished there was a way for him to reach her once and ask if he could have stopped her pain. He blamed himself for being distracted, leading her to let herself be taken instead.

Harry was dueling a death Eater, not paying attention to what was happening around him. Another death eater snuck behind up behind him and blasted the wall he was standing in front of. Y/n saw him and pushed Harry out of the way, taking the brunt of the falling bricks herself.

"No!" Harry cried, pushing the bricks away from her frail body. "No no no." He whispered. He finally freed her from the bricks and cracked her in his arms. A few tears rolled down his cheeks. "Don't cry Harry." This only made the tears fall faster. "I'm not worth your tears haz." She weakly reached up and wiped the tears off his dirty face. "Why?" Harry croaked. "You didn't have to die for me. I don't want you to die for me." He cried. "Oh Harry, I'd give my life a thousand times over to save yours. I'll love you forever and always. No matter what, I'll always watch over you."

"Don't leave me." Harry pressed a feverish kiss to y/n's lips, forehead, hair , cheeks. She was getting colder every minute. "I'll always be with you. In here." She placed her hand on his heart and smiled. Her hand become limp and dropped down. Her last breath of life taken. Harry freely cried over her dead body.

When voldemort called Harry to his death, he freely went, knowing it was right. He had to avenge the deaths of all those who were killed in the war. But a small part of him yearned to see y/n's smiling face again, and he hoped that he would see her again when he was no more. So he went, went with a brave face to the one he loved most.

Harry sat down on his bed, leaving the box aside. As he closed his eyes he wondered if there would have been a different outcome, a butterfly effect of sorts, if he hadn't been so closed off. If he let his walls down, been vulnerable around y/n, maybe she wouldn't have felt so alone and weak. If he let her in fully he could have let her know that he too was weak in a way, he too needed to let out his emotions. But it was too late now. She was gone and there was nothing Harry could do about it.

He drifted of to sleep, one thought lingered in his mind. If there was something he could have said to make it all stop hurting her. If he could have eased her mind before she went. It truly killed Harry how y/n's mind could make her feel so worthless.

But she was gone. There was a gaping hole in Harry's heart, one that could only be filled by love from y/n. But she was no more with him. He would never hear her voice again, never feel her touch, all that was left in him was guilt, regret and sadness and there was nothing anyone could do to fix it. *** A/n: I am so sorry for the angst, I hope I didn't break y'all too much;) I will be posting a new year fic tomorrow!

It's new years eve y'all! I hope you guys have a fantastic new year and here's to hoping 2021 is better than 2020!

#harry potter x reader #iliveiloveiwrite3.5k #harry potter angst #harry potter x you #harry potter x y/n #harry potter x reader angst

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buckysgoldenheart · 4 years ago

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Unexpectedly Bitten

Vampire!Henry Cavill x Reader

Summary: Your ex gets into some trouble with Vampires, and his mistakes lead the bloodsuckers back to you. After seeing you, one vampire gets a little attached and he’s taking his time deciding what he plans to do with you, but whatever it is, you’re not afraid. In fact, you might just be a little attached to him too.

Warnings: cursing, smut, violence. (Count on spelling mistakes or repeating words too often. it’s very likely.)

Notes: Folks I did my very very best. I am so bad at chaptered fics, it’s insane. But I tried. As always, Let me emphasize this: there is little rhyme or reason to the way this story is broken into parts.

This is a Vampire!Henry x Reader story where each chapter, while chronological, is a different conversation or event during the course of their evolving relationship.

Words: 1606

Part 7: Change

You were breathing. That’s what Henry kept repeating in his head when he relived that horrible night in his sleep. His body would shoot out of bed, drenched in sweat, and he would have the agonizing thought that he failed. But then he would look to his left, and there you were. You were breathing.

His days were filled with watching you to constantly reassure himself that he hadn’t lost you forever. Every time your breath hitched in your sleep, his did as well. Every time he nearly dozed off in his chair, he shook himself awake for fear that the change hadn’t fully taken hold; that maybe he was too late after all.

“She doing any better?” Henry nearly leapt from his seat at Chris’s voice. His friend walked over after shutting the door quietly behind him.

Henry ran a hand down his face. He needed to relax. He was getting jumpy. “Shouldn’t be much longer.”

Chris pulled another chair up to Henry’s side and joined in monitoring the rise and fall of your chest. “Are you alright? It’s been a while.”

“This is my fault,” Henry rubbed at his brow with a groan. “I cut it too close. It’s taking too long for her to heal.”

“Do not hate yourself for this, Hen,” Chris said, lightly slapping his friend on the back. “She’s alright. I would’ve done the same if I still had a pretty little human I was so desperately in love with.”

“She’s not human anymore.”

“You didn’t have a choice.”

Henry shook his head, denying his friend’s answer to feel the full weight of disappointment in himself. “Elias seemed to think the same, but…not from the same perspective.” He took a deep breath as he remembered the look in the Lord’s eyes right before he broke your neck. There was pity there; acknowledgment of a loss he knew Henry would not get over for centuries, if at all. “He didn’t think I would turn her. He left her body there, knowing I could turn her before it was too late, but he was so sure I wouldn’t. Why, do you think?”

“Henry,” Chris whined with irritation. “Don’t start—”

“Because we don’t subject the ones we love to this life,” Henry said as he stared at you, then he looked to Chris. “You never turned Amara. You loved her as a human until she died because you knew she would be miserable if she were like us.”

Chris swallowed the pain; the discomfort in his gut at the reminder of the woman he would’ve crushed mountains into rubble for. “I agree, this is not an ideal life, but…take it from me. When you’re in love with a human, there is nothing more painful than seeing them age without you.” The blond cleared his throat, and his voice shook slightly as he continued. “I couldn’t give Amara a normal life. I couldn’t marry her or give her children untainted by vampire blood like she wanted. So, I honored her wishes and let her go on to find that human she married. But don’t think for a second that if someone killed her when she was mine, that I wouldn’t have bitten her to save her too. It’s not wrong to save the ones we love, Henry.”

Henry grunted like the stubborn mule both you and his friend knew he was.

“Look, Amara is not Y/N,” Chris said, pushing his friend to see the best in the choices made the day you died. “Y/N was the first human to love a vampire in centuries. She saw you as more than what you are. Do not take advantage of that gift. She is now like us. You can have her forever. There was a time when I would’ve given anything to have the same.”

Henry rose an eyebrow. “So, I’m being an unappreciative prick, is that what you’re saying?”

“Yes,” Chris smirked, taking a drink from his glass, and standing. “But I won’t hold it against you.”

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

You woke with a massive arm draped over your abdomen. It felt like a heavy brick and you couldn’t get enough air, so you blindly shoved at it until lifted. The bed shook as you deeply inhaled, swallowing oxygen the way you would if your head just broke the surface of the ocean and you could finally feel the air on your skin.

“Oh, thank fuck,” You heard whispered from your left as two massive hands cupped your cheeks and turned your head. “Open your eyes, baby.”

You tried and winced when the tiniest bit of light seeped in, slamming them shut again to avoid the headache.

“It’s ok,” The voice said. “It’s ok. Try again, just take it slow.”

You did as asked, bracing yourself for the pain of it but powered on, blinking a few times until your view came into focus. “Henry?”

Your voice was gravelly and felt itchy in your throat, but by the way Henry’s face lit up, it might as well have been the most beautiful sound in the world.

“Hey,” He smiled, running a hand over the top of your head. Tears welled in his eyes; the blue orbs darting all over your face as he stroked your hair. One of the droplets fell on your cheek and Henry quickly kissed it away.

His lips were warm, and you sighed into the feeling, suddenly sinking into the curve of his body as it lay against yours. “I feel like I died and rose again,” You groaned as you stretched your limbs the best you could, testing their limits to alleviate the stiffness.

“You’ll feel better soon.” Henry kissed your forehead. “It just takes a little time.”

You tilted your face back from where it was pressed against his hard chest to look up at him with pinched eyebrows. “What do you mean?”

He grew uneasy, averting his gaze and shifting his body awkwardly without removing his arms from around you. “The, uh…transformation takes—”

“Transformation?” Your torso rose, surprisingly not aching the slightest.

Henry leaned up as well and cupped your cheek, savoring the feel of your skin in case you tried to kill him. You would have the strength for it now if you planned your attacks strategically. And if you hated him, he would accept your decision. He was selfish, after all, but he couldn’t let you go.

“Baby, you…you did die.” Your eyes widened and Henry internally cringed. “Elias killed you, and I bit you on, um…” He grabbed your wrist and brought it up to your face. “I bit your wrist. I changed you”

And sure enough, there were two faint dots on the inner side of your wrist; the marks shimmering to perfectly match the small cut on your finger.

“I’m so sorry, baby.”

You looked at him. “Why?”

Henry moved to lay on his back. You could tell he was avoiding your eyes; that he was scared of your reaction to his next words. Crawling on top of him with unexpected ease, you straddled his waist and planted your hands firmly on his chest. You pressed down lightly, giving him a little jolt, when he had still hadn’t answered.

His eyes locked with yours and he wrapped his fingers around your forearms to keep your steady above him. “I just didn’t want to lose you. I’ve never been that scared in my life, and it made me—"

“No.” You shook your head. “Not why did you do it. I meant, why are you sorry you did? You want me, don’t you?” You didn’t ask for reassurance. You knew how he felt, but you wanted him to see that changing you was the only option if he wanted to be with you; and him wanting to have you would never be something you could punish him for. Being like him did not terrify you. It didn’t shock you into silence. Honestly, you didn’t feel all the different.

He sat up until you were face to face and wrapped his arms around your waist. One hands fingers trailed up and down the length of your spine. “More than anything.”

“Henry, I had nothing for me in that life,” You said as your hands settled on his shoulders. “Nothing.” Tipping your head down, you connected your lips and he moaned so deep his chest vibrated against yours.

“You’re really ok?” He asked when you pulled apart.

“I wouldn’t lie to you,” You said.

A small laugh came out in the form of a puff of air, then he tucked his head down until his cheek was resting against your left breast. He sighed, but it came out more like a moan. “I love that sound.”

“You can still hear it?”

“Only when I’m this close,” He said, nipping at the skin and nuzzling into your chest. “You’ll just have to tell me how you feel about me from now on.”

You smiled, but then your face fell serious. “Henry?”

“Hmm?”

“What now?”

He pulled back as he took in a deep breath and exhaled through his nose. “Now the change fully takes hold. Your eyesight will increase, you’ll get stronger every day, your fangs will come in soon, and you’ll hate it because you’re going to be biting your tongue fifteen times a day for about a week.”

You grimaced, but chuckled.

“There are a few other things, but we’ll deal with them as they come, not now. Other than that, not much else,” He said, framing your face with his hands. “You’re mine now, baby. And I’m yours.”

“Just like that, huh?”

“Just like that.” He grinned and pressed his lips to yours.

---

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#henry cavill #henry cavill x reader #henry cavill x you #henry cavill x y/n #henry cavill x female reader #henry cavill angst #henry cavill smut #henry cavill fluff #henry cavill fic #henry cavill fics #henry cavill fanfics #henry cavill fanfiction #henry cavill oneshot #henry cavill one shot #henry cavill au #henry cavill vampire #vampire henry #vampire!henry

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mandoalorian · 4 years ago

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Sugar and Spice [Max Lord x F!Reader] — Chapter 12

Summary: When you are evicted from your apartment by your toxic ex boyfriend and have no place to go, who do you turn to? Alone in the city as the countdown to Christmas begins, you find yourself applying for a job as the assistant of the world’s biggest entrepreneur; Maxwell Lord. Little do you know, he has other intentions for you. No doubt about it, this Christmas will truly be like no other.

Word count: 2.3k

Warnings: Smut, mentions of a previous verbally abusive relationship, typical 80s misogyny (but very little of it), mentions of food and drink, alcohol consumption. This is a sugardaddy x sugarbaby fic soooo… a daddy k!nk too oops.

But in this chapter: food mention, tooth rotting fluff. Our story comes full circle.

Author’s note: Here it is. The final chapter of Sugar and Spice. The Epilogue should be coming soon. I hope you enjoyed this story as much as I did, and I'd like to thank you all for supporting me and my writing. This was my first ever series and the love I got for it was unlike anything I had ever felt before. I love you all so much. (PS— i’m still sick with COVID so I am really really sorry if this is a poor chapter. I tried my hardest. Happy valentines day.)

MASTERLIST

PREVIOUS - CHAPTER TWELVE - EPILOGUE [coming soon!]

The second Maxwell engulfed himself amongst the soft satin blankets of his bed, he knew he was glad to be home. You climbed in beside him, and his eyes raked your body as he took in the sight of your baby pink slip on silk nightgown that you were wearing. He swallowed, and reached over to grab your waist and pull you on top of him. So there you were, straddling your sugar daddy after not seeing him for over a month. You pressed your palms against his bare chest and looked him in the eyes.

"There's something I need to tell you." Maxwell announced, knowing it had to be now or never. He couldn't keep hiding it. After the month in London and Alistair being brought back into his life, a lot had changed for him. He wasn't the same man he was back in December.

"About Ali?" you asked, tracing circles into his skin.

"Well, yeah. But— something else." Maxwell replied, shuffling around slightly. You sensed it was serious due to his tone of voice and your movements paused as you stared dead into his eyes.

"You don't have another secret child, do you?" you deadpanned.

"No!" Maxwell said defensively and you smiled softly. "It's about us."

You braced yourself. He'd been gone for a month, come back with a kid, and you were certain he was going to break the arrangement off with you. You pulled your hands off him and went to crawl off his lap, but his large hands landed on your thighs to hold you down.

"That night after the annual Black Gold Christmas gala… I saw you with Bruce and I got drunk and— my mom— and… I told you… I told you everything. About my father and having absent parents and. I said— I said— I said I was in love with you," Maxwell gulped and it took him every ounce of strength to not break his eye contact with you. He wanted to remain strong. You remembered the night like it was yesterday; clear as day. Of course, how could you forget the moment he said those words? And he hadn't spoken of it since, until now. Between you being held hostage by Tristan and Maxwell being whisked away to London, there'd hardly been an appropriate time to bring it up. "I swore that once I returned from the UK we would talk about this. So, Y/N, I have to tell you that my feelings haven't changed. It's been months, we've been together and apart. We've argued and fought but we've laughed and made love too. We've had distance— hell, I've been on the other side of the world for the past month but not a second has gone by where I haven't thought about you. About loving you, and kissing you, and even if you don't feel the same way, I hope you can forgive me."

"Forgive you?" You asked after a brief silence. You'd been waiting for what felt like a lifetime to hear these words, and yet you were struggling to comprehend them. It didn't feel real.

"For not doing anything or saying anything sooner. I should've said something sooner. I wish I had. I wish… I wish…" Maxwell rambled but you placed a finger to his lips, silencing him.

"No," you told him sternly. "No wishing. You don't need to make a wish because— everything is fine just the way it is," Maxwell's heart sank at your words and you watched as his chest deflated. "No!" you cried before trying to clarify. You didn't want him to get the wrong idea. "You have a successful business, and a son, and Max, you have me. You'll always have me. Because I love you too. I'm in love with you Maxwell Lord."

Max's chocolate coloured eyes widened at your confession as disbelief bolted through his body. Never in a million years would Maxwell expect that you would truly love him back. How could he expect anyone to love a man like him? Kitty hadn't. His mother hadn't. But you…

"I love you so much Max," you sighed before pressing a kiss into his lips. You caught a tear slip down his cheek and you quickly wiped it away. "Don't ever apologise for being you. Our story has been a whirlwind so far but it's not over. It's not over Max. I love you."

"I love you too." he whispered, wrapping his arms tight around your body when you kissed him again.

By the time Valentines Day rolled around, you swore it was like Maxwell and Alistair had never spent any time apart. The six year old boy was the spitting double of his father— personality and all.

He dived into your bed and jumped up and down.

"I got a card! Look daddy! I got a card!" Alistair beamed. Maxwell groaned and rolled over, holding a pillow over his head. You smiled tiredly and pulled the little boy into your arms.

"Good morning Ali, where did you get that?" you asked.

"It was on the kitchen table! Look mama, it's for me!" He squealed, pointing at the name that was inked in perfect calligraphy. Your perfect calligraphy. Your heart melted slightly at the little name he'd given you. "Mama". You figured it was something Maxwell had pushed, but he swore he hadn't, and that Alistair had decided that you'd be his mama from now on anyway. Kitty was out of the picture for good now, and you were nicer to him in the past two weeks than Kitty had been to him his whole life. That was the sad truth.

"Oh, so it is." you giggled, pressing a kiss into Alistair's forehead. You rolled over slightly and pat the middle of the bed, gesturing for Alistair to come and lay down in between you and his father.

"I only ever get cards like this on my birthday and Christmas. And today is neither of those days." Alistair pondered out loud, tapping his index finger against his chin as he thought. Just like his daddy.

"Do you know what day it is, Ali?" you beckoned.

You realised Maxwell must've finally woken himself up when his hand reached over to hold yours, his thumb circling your skin. You glanced over to him and saw that his big brown eyes were watching his son.

"Ummm…"

"It's the only day of the year where I can do this," Maxwell interrupted, pressing his lips against yours and kissing you. His sudden action was enough to take your breath away and Alistair went to make a noise of disgust. But Maxwell pulled away from your lips and placed a hand over his son's mouth. "And you, mister, can't do that!" he chastised, wiggling his finger with a chuckle.

"But daddy, kissing is yucky!" Alistair frowned, sticking his tongue out in dismay. You rolled your eyes, pulled the little boy on top of you and pressed another kiss into his forehead. Since you had a hold of him, Maxwell took the opportunity to tickle Alistair, erupting a scream of laughter. "Dad-daddy! Aaah daddy please!" Alistair laughed, kicking his legs and flailing his arms around.

"Have you worked out what day it is yet?" you asked the little boy once he'd settled back down. A small blush crept upon his cheeks.

"Va-valentines day?" Alistair asked, his voice timid.

"Are you telling me that my son Alistair has a valentine?" Maxwell gasped jokingly and Alistair's grin only grew wider with excitement.

"Can I open it?" Alistair giggled happily.

"Go on!" you laughed, giving him a small nudge.

You and Max both watched intently as Alistair opened the card. Of course, you had purchased the card and wrote it out. But seeing the excitement on Alistair's face when he read ‘love from your secret admirer’ was undefeatable. It was magical, and it filled your heart with so much love and joy. Alistair was new to your life, just as new as he was to Maxwell's, but if one thing was for sure, it was that you loved him just as much as you'd love your own child. And that wasn't lost on Maxwell.

He honestly expected you might have left him. Or grown distant upon learning that he had a son. But once again, you had proven Maxwell Lord IV wrong. You were unlike any other woman he'd ever met, and now that he had the two most important people in his life, he felt like he could accomplish anything. Nothing else mattered anymore. Just you and Alistair.

"My son, only six years old and already has a secret admirer!" Maxwell chuckled, shaking his head and wrapping his arms around Alistair. "But you'll always be my boy, won't you Ali?"

"Yes daddy." Alistair smiled a toothy grin.

"Us Lord men… we always get the ladies." Maxwell told his son, causing you to belly laugh. Maxwell shot you a joking glare and you tried to stifle any more of your giggles.

"On that note," you rolled your eyes and slid out of bed. "How does pancakes for breakfast sound?"

Both Maxwell and his son cheered with joy at the thought of pancakes. You remembered you even had some strawberries and cream left over from the night before which would go well with it. You pulled your silk robe over you and padded to the kitchen.

"Do you remember the plan?" Maxwell whispered quietly once you'd left the room, cradling his son.

"I do." Alistair beamed snuggling into his father's chest. Maxwell smiled a little.

"Tonight, yeah? After dinner." Maxwell reminded his son.

"Do you love her?" Alistair quizzed further, and Max's smile grew even more.

"I do," Max confessed. "More than anything."

"I think she loves you too." Alistair said softly.

"Yeah?"

"I see the way she looks at you," Alistair mumbled. "Like how Ariel looks at Prince Eric."

"Wh-who?" Max furrowed his eyebrows together and Alistair's jaw dropped slightly.

"Okay daddy. We're all watching The Little Mermaid after dinner." Alistair decided in that moment, his tone of voice leaving no room for question.

Maxwell quirked an eyebrow. "Really? And who put you in charge?"

"I'm a Lord," Alistair said proudly. "Besides, someone has to watch over you two lovebirds. Make sure you don't get yourself in trouble."

Maxwell couldn't believe the six year old boy. Alistair was definitely Maxwell's son, that's for sure.

Just as you were finishing up frying the last pancake, the kitchen phone began to ring. You answered it, surprised to hear the voice of your lawyer— or more accurately, Maxwell's lawyer. You had been using him to defend yourself on the case between you and Tristan. He had told you that Tristan was going to be locked away for a very long time, and that you'd won the case. A wash of relief flooded over you, and finally, things were beginning to look up for you and your little family.

You called down Alistair and Maxwell once breakfast was ready, and you served the heart shaped pancakes at the table. Maxwell came down a few minutes later than Alistair and he was holding on envelope. When he sat down opposite you, he passed you the envelope with a smug grin on his face.

"What's this?" you asked curiously, and Maxwell shrugged his shoulders casually as he sipped on his black coffee. He hadn't stopped smirking though. "Maxie, we agreed on no gifts this year?" you sighed, already feeling bad for not getting him anything.

"Baby, it's not exactly a gift. I mean, it's something for both of us. Something that's important to you and well… just open it, please." he urged.

You hesitated, exchanging a glance between Max and Alistair (who was already neck deep in pancakes), before sighing and opening the envelope. Inside was a letter from a retail agent? As you read the letter, your heart began to slam against your chest. No way.

"Max… you bought my old apartment building? The whole building?" you gasped, slamming your hand over your mouth in disbelief. "You bought it in both of our names?"

"Because I knew how much it meant to you. And how much your neighbours meant to you. They were all mistreated by Tristan, and that isn't okay. I bought the property from the council so we're the rightful owners now. And we won't overcharge rent like Tristan did. We don't need to. We'll refurbish the whole place. We'll give the families who live there a safe place that they can call home, and they won't have to worry about any abuse from Tristan, or their utilities falling apart, or bills… it'll be wonderful."

"Maxwell I- I don't know what to say I…" you were utterly speechless, tears filling your eyes. Obviously this was going to cost him a lot of money and a lot to upkeep, but for the first time, it felt like it wasn't even about money. It was a grand gesture, sure, but it was also the most thoughtful and unexpected thing he'd ever done for you.

"I love you." Max revelled and you smiled.

"I love you too." you replied, leaning over the table and pressing a kiss into his lips. You glanced back down at the letter, admiring the way your surname and Max's surname looked together on the sheet of paper.

At the start of December you didn't even own a car. You couldn't even pay rent. Now you were living in a suburban manor with your perfect little family. Amongst a little bit of sugar and a little bit of spice, you had found love, meaning and purpose. You'd found your soulmate.

Just as you thought your life was good and couldn't get any better, you didn't realise what Maxwell Lord had in store for you this evening. Your whole world was about to change.

---

Sugar and Spice taglist: @100layersofdaddyissues @mrschiltoncat @honeymandos @thisisthe-wayson @this-cat-is-dea @blonde2bomshell @maiyaaaa0130 @autumnleaves1991-blog @justanotherblonde23 @softly-sad @laaadygisbooornex3 @kaelyn-lobrutto24 @drinkingwhileblogging @kesskirata @honestlystop @promiscuoussatan

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#pedro pascal #pedro pascal x reader #maxwell lord #max lord #maxwell lord x reader #max lord x reader #ww84 #pedro pascal smut #jose pedro balmaceda pascal

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waking-dreams-of-harmony · 4 years ago

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The Last Dragon

Below the read more I've posted 7 very small sections of a fic that is based on this beautiful and tragic fanvid. I got literal chills watching it. If you wanna sob over our queen and her son wanting to avenge his mother, give it a watch.

I don't think I'll ever go any further, as my writing had an unfortunate run in with a brick wall, which then toppled over it and crushed any urge to write the next bit.

It's not too terrible--though it could actually be total shit, I'm not known for my writing 😂--and it was just gonna gather dust on my laptop, so figured I might as well post it. This was one of my ways of dealing with that fucked up last season within the framework of the show. I dont believe this is Dany's end, and I loathe with every fiber of my being what happened to her and her found family. And after seeing that video, the idea of Drogon doing everything he could to avenge the mother he loved more than anything appealed to that anger inside me. So I'll understand if this isnt for everyone ❤

Chapter 1

Mother.

He flies, great black wings carrying them away.

Mother.

Sharp, massive claws curl in gently. Protectively.

Mother is gone.

The cold creeps, burning against his scales the way fire never has.

Mother don’t leave.

A whisper on the wind calls to him.

Mother it hurts.

East, it sighs. It smells of smoke, and fire. Hope.

He follows, wings beating faster.

They took you.

The rage flares, searing away the cold.

They killed you.

The heat of it bursts within him, scaled skin shaking with the strength of it.

Fire and blood.

Jaws stretch wide, and the air burns red with grief.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 2

The sky bleeds red from the dying sun when Drogon reaches Volantis. The whisper that drew him there stops as he lands on an open balcony.

A woman stands before him, black hair and red robes flying up in the gust of wind from his wings. His claw gently opens, Mother’s cold body slowly sliding onto the hard stone.

Crimson, mournful eyes watch the red woman kneel by Mother, pale fingers hovering over her, not touching, for a long moment.

“I cannot bring her back, Drogon,” she murmurs, regretful.

He throws his head back, bellows fury and sadness into the sky. No, Mother, come back. I am alone.

A faint brush at the back of his mind--where Mother used to be, his brothers, the thoughts they shared together--grasps his attention. Makes him look back down at the red woman.

“I cannot give you back Daenerys Targaryen, but I can give you something else.”

His nostrils flair, and his head moves closer.

“I can give you the revenge you desire. As it stands, you may be able to raze the whole of the Seven Kingdoms, turn it all to ash, but that would not be what your mother wanted.”

Drogon growls, lips pulled up in a snarl. Sheep. All are sheep. Betrayed Mother. Killed Mother. No mercy.

She nods her head. Comprehends what he is unable to say out loud.

“Yes, they all betrayed Daenerys, took from her and killed her when her visions grew too great for their small minds. They could not grasp that the Mother of Dragons was above all a breaker of chains. She would have freed us all.”

She pauses, then continues, her voice hard. “They need to be punished. And they will be. But Daenerys’ dreams must be realized. Dragon’s Bay must remain free. The Dothraki cannot return to what they were, raping and pillaging. And the petty lords of Westeros must be laid low. Those who destroyed Daenerys must see their reigns come to an end not only by dragon fire, but by the unification of the people they have ground into the dust, unified against them.”

“A dragon has the power to do great things, but to lead men, to lead armies, that is the one thing you cannot do, Drogon. Not as you are. You must be more. And by the Lord of Light’s grace, you can become exactly what the people need.”

Drogon rumbles in frustration, steam billowing from between his sharp, clenched teeth. He doesn’t understand.

“Human, Drogon. You must become human.”

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 3

They take Mother, to clean her, he is told. Remove the dagger, her clothes. Wash the blood away.

The red woman directs him to fly from the balcony, down into an open courtyard below. A large fire pit rages with a towering flame. It warms him, feels like Mother’s hand caressing his scales.

Dragons cannot cry. A mournful moan makes his great neck tremble. Human. Perhaps he can cry when he is human.

People in red robes enter the courtyard, one after another, until they circle around Drogon. His tail twitches. Their closeness agitates him.

The red woman appears, crossing the circle to stand in front of the fire. Hatred fills him when he sees what is in her hands. The dagger stained with Mother’s blood. Coward. The coward’s dagger.

“I am sorry Drogon. It is a necessary piece of the ritual. Soon,” she soothes, “you will have all you need to begin your campaign against the traitors.”

Another voice brushes against that same place in his mind. That lonely place where Mother, Rhaegal, and Viserion once lived. Soon, it too promises.

The red woman turns her head, scans the other acolytes before catching Drogon’s eyes.

“Let us begin.”

Voices hum together in chant, and the sky is filled with an agonized roar.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 4

Drogon.

He groans.

Drogon, my love.

Everything hurts.

You cannot sleep forever, my beautiful boy.

He moves his head slightly. Cringes at the sharp pain.

Wake up, Drogon.

Mother? Why does everything hurt so much?

It’s time.

The voice begins to fade. He reaches out a hand, slowly, to make it stay, and freezes. He has a hand. A human hand.

Fingers curl into his palm, and the nails scratch against his skin, bite into it. His legs scrape against the stone as he slowly stretches out one, then the other.

He can still feel the fire to the side of him; it feels heavier, pressing on his skin but it does not hurt his flesh.

What burns more painfully is the missing weight of his wings. No flight for him now.

Cold fingers brush his shoulder, curve sharply to hold him when he recoils.

“Drogon?”

He doesn’t like to be held, or touched, no one but Mother, and his brothers, but they are gone. Gone, gone, gone…

“Drogon! It is only me, Kinvara!” The voice finally penetrates, and he stops pulling away.

Allowing for her help, he rolls carefully onto his back. Sharp pebbles dig into his skin. No scales to protect him anymore.

He feels her fingers move to his face, tracing the human features. “Open your eyes Drogon. See what the Lord of Light has gifted to you.”

Gift? No gift. Just more pain. Weakness. But he opens his eyes. The fire from the pit is soothing, warm. Warmer than...before. Would it burn him? His hand flinches towards it but he’s not close enough to touch.

He turns his eyes toward Kinvara. She is smiling, eyes reflecting the fire’s light.

She waves a hand towards an acolyte. “Bring me a robe. We must cover our dragon prince.”

Red cloth is laid over him, and two other acolytes help Drogon to sit. They hold him up as the other wraps the robe around him more securely.

Drogon grits his teeth, blood rushing angry and hot.

He tries to talk, mouth struggling to form the human words. “W-We—” He growls, tries again. “W-Weak.”

“For now,” she says. “But you will grow stronger, I promise you.”

Drogon struggles to stay awake, but bone deep exhaustion pulls at him, and his frustration wanes as he slips into slumber.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 5

Four moons pass before Drogon is ready to set sail for Meereen. He was like a hatchling again, unsteady, vulnerable, and he hated it. Kinvara and her priests taught him the ways of his new body, how to eat and walk, to read their words.

Coarse fabric to wear instead of steely scales.

But now it is time. Time to search out Grey Worm. Daario. The Unsullied and Dothraki. Train with them and become stronger. Much stronger.

He knew how to fight as a dragon. Armies and castles were nothing against the heat of his fire. He must learn how to wage war as humans do.

Wrapped in a red cloak, hood hanging low over his face, Drogon is ready to begin.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 6

They are waiting for him at the dock after the sun has set, Grey Worm and Mother’s sellsword, two silent figures who do not move, do not speak until Drogon stands before them.

Daario breaks the silence first. “Drogon?”

He pulls back his hood, unnaturally crimson eyes in a human face flashing in the near dark.

Daario sucks in a breath, then huffs out a laugh. “If the red priests had not sent word ahead, I may not have believed it. But by the gods, here you stand.” He reaches out an arm for Drogon to clasp.

He does so, hesitantly, but with a firm grip. Human greetings still puzzle him.

Grey Worm steps closer then kneels, bows his head bowed, fist pressed against his chest. “Ñuha dārilaros. Bisy qringaomatan īlva dāria. Īlon emagon ossēntan se nāpāstre skoriot pōnta iōrtan (My prince. This one failed our Queen. We should have killed the traitors where they stood.).”

Drogon does not know if he is asking for forgiveness or absolution.

Dragons have no real concept of forgiveness. He should be angry the traitors were allowed to live. But Grey Worm is kin, as the little scribe had been. Mother’s old bear too, and the white-haired knight. Everyone who had been under Mother’s protection, had been under her children’s protection as well. And would continue to be.

“Rise, Grey Worm.” His voice is rough and sharp edged, and it seems to startle the two men to hear him speak. “Those that hurt Mother, that used her and took her life will be punished as they deserve. But I need your help. So rise. Let us repay them with fire and blood. For Mother. For Missandei. For them all.”

He holds out a hand, waits.

Grey Worm looks up, eyes bright with unshed tears. His lips tremble, then firm. He takes Drogon’s hand.

▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪▪

Chapter 7

They convene in Mother’s chambers, the map room he would never have been able to fit in before almost cavernous to him now.

Spread out around the table, the three men pull together a plan as they look down at the map.

First, they will weed out the opposition in Essos, solidify their hold in the east. Astapor, Yunkai, they will all come to heel, every slave freed. They would be as clever as Mother had been, keep the number of innocents lost as low as they could. Drogon would prefer to burn through the Good Masters, snap them up and tear them apart, but for Mother, he would be patient, and take the slower path. All the slavers would still die, and their victims would live, and live free.

But for what Drogon had planned, he needed steel in place of claws, armor instead of dragonhide. He needed Grey Worm and Daario to make him as fearsome as a human as he’d been as a dragon. And that would take time.

He ground his blunted teeth together; he hated waiting. Hated it. But let the traitors think they were safe for a while longer. It would be all the sweeter when he ripped that feeling of safety away, just as they ripped Mother away from him. His brothers. His home.

They would feel his pain. And then they would feel nothing at all.

#daenerys targaryen #drogon #mother of dragons #got au #team targaryen #team daenerys #daenerys appreciation #drogon appreciation #my fic #my moodboard

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justasimptm · 3 years ago

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The Bride C17

The voice rings clear and stern, tone filled with rage and disbelief. Heisenberg stands a few feet away, leaning on his hammer, watching Moreau hesitant in front of me. It’s kind of funny to me, watching him panic, it’s like he’s hitting all the stages of grief at the same time. His mouth flaps like a fish, which is even funnier given his ugly other form, but to give him credit, he doesn’t back away. Heisenberg barely twitches a finger, but the knife he was holding flies from his hand, banging loudly on the support beam behind us. I feel both relieved and tense still as he steps closer, knowing I’m not alone but unsure how he’s going to deal with this situation.

“Mother wanted me to do another test! I’m making progress!” Moreau whimpers, matching his steps moving backwards, only stopping when he bumps into his little table and trips, falling to the ground with a nauseating wet slap. Heisenberg doesn’t even look at me, keeping his eyes fixed firmly on the dolt that’s trying to skitter away from him. “You should-you should go! Let me finish my work!” Heisenberg scoffs at the effort, twisting his fingers slightly to pull the needle from my arm, letting it ping to the ground before sliding the bucket that had started collecting my blood over to him. It sloshes slightly, and I realise he had already started draining me before I woke up.

“I think, you have plenty. And I also think if you ever try something like this again, I will tell Mother Miranda about your betrayal, because that’s what this is, and she’ll cast you out for it. Let her out of your filth.” He hisses, leaving no room for argument or discussion. Within seconds I feel the sludge holding me up release, which is both a relief and a shock, because without it I feel a million pounds heavier and I tumble forward into Heisenberg, who with all his grace, manages to catch me before I hit the ground.

Without so much as letting the other creature breathe a syllable in reply, Heisenberg turns, and promptly stalks from the mines, resurfacing through the hut before walking us slightly downstream. He sets me down carefully on one of the bigger rocks, letting me adjust myself before fully releasing me and sitting down next to me. Part of me wonders how he found me, but part of me doesn’t want to ask, wanting instead to break down slightly and thank him for saving us again, even after our last encounter had been so cold. I scramble for the words to say to break our silence, even a simple thank you not feeling good enough. My buffering seems to register with him, so he fortunately takes the initiative and speaks first so I don’t have to.

“Do you need blood? He got a lot before I got there.” He asks, eyeing me up and down before looking out at the running water. The concern in his voice shocks me for a split second before I reply, humming thoughtfully as I focus on my body to see if I can get it to wake up. He must’ve really taken a good portion of what I had running through me because even now, out of his slime and out in the light, my body feels like it could drop into a coma at any second.

“I will. Before I go home if I can manage it. Thank you for coming, Lord-” I start, watching him from the corner of my eyes so I can look without staring directly. Before I can finish my miniature praise he cuts me off with the waive of his hand.

“I wasn’t gonna let that Fish Chum kill you. And I’m pretty sure I told you to call me Karl.” He states, turning to face me head on, but keeping his attention low as he shrugs off his jacket and rolls up the sleeve of his shirt. My brows furrow at his movement and I have to force myself away from staring at his now exposed arm and flexing biceps as he moves them. “I know I’m probably not preferred dinner, but I don’t think I’ll be able to get anyone fresher.” He mutters and it suddenly strikes me what he’s planning. Before I could protest, both at the intimacy of it and the idea of drinking from him and hurting him, he pulled a thin knife from his belt and made a small cut across his arm. Not so deep as to cause much damage, but enough to make his blood sing in the air. “Don’t even think about saying no. Can’t have you dying’ on me yet, Doll. I still gotta make you like me.”

His words barely register on my mind as I reach for him on instinct, he pulls me closer to his side, running his fingers through my pinned hair and letting it fall fully loose from it’s half destroyed bun. It’s interesting as I latch on, not biting really, more like suckling, the conscious part of my brain trying not to cause too much harm. What’s even more interesting is that instead of tensing, like most would under the fang of what could arguably be considered a vampire despite our real creation, he relaxes into me. Sighing as my lips close on his skin and I apply the first light pressure of sucking, not flinching as my tongue swipes over the cut he made, tasting him for the first time.

He tastes like the best treats you could imagine. Like a fresh strawberry, dipped in rich dark chocolate, both sweet and bitter, but a perfect combination of both. He tastes like nothing I’ve had before, something I can only imagine could be compared to having your favorite meal at the end of a long week. My eyelids flutter close at the first drop that I pull into my mouth. Trying so hard not to be greedy, but wanting so desperately to bite and drink until I can’t. I think I hear myself whimper slightly, but I’m quickly soothed by his gentle shushing as he runs his fingers through my hair, scraping slightly along my scalp. The paired sensations of his coarse fingers on my head, his calm voice telling me it’s okay and to take what I need is almost too much to handle.

It makes me not want to stop, even though I know I need to. My body feels alive, humming with strength and more energy than I’ve had in years, and I fight every single nerve I have as I pull my stained lips away from his arm. When he asks me if I’ve had enough I almost laugh. No, I want to say, I need more, I need everything, but I say yes, because I am sated, belly full and happy, warmth flowing back to my fingers and my cheeks. His face is tinged red, just so slightly, a thin layer of sweat along his forehead, and for a split second I’m terrified I took too much. But as smoothly as he had rolled it up, he tugs his sleeve back down, nodding to himself. We sit in silence for another minute, letting both of our breathings steady before trying to return to conversation.

At first our conversation is light, he asks how I ended up in the mines, I ask how he knew I was there. Both of us give half truths, evading what we think will embarrass ourselves, but walking on eggshells grows tiresome fast.

“Are you scared of your mother?” He asks out of the blue, making me choke slightly on the breath I was taking. I can’t stop myself from looking around at who might have heard him, but we’re alone, just as we were when we came down.

“My mother is...a very complicated woman.” I start, treading carefully, but he scoffs at my statement, making me smile lightly. “Maybe a bit more than complicated. She’s always wanted what she thought was best for me. For her, really.” The sadness in my voice sobers him quickly. As I find the next words he gently pulls his glasses off, putting them to the side on his jacket. I started explaining that we were both sick, her and I, but she wanted to be cured, leading into her magical find, the thing that would keep her alive for ages. He knows what I mean without having to say it. “She came home that night different. Physically, mentally. She looked like my mother but she didn’t exactly act like her. I was terrified, if I’m going to be honest. She changed me though, even though I…” I can’t finish that sentence, but I don’t have to, judging by the look on his face he already understands. “It took me a while to accept this, and when I finally did she really wasn’t my mother anymore. She was twisted up, and if I’m going to be honest, yes. I am afraid of her. I think everyone should be, really. She has no remorse for anything she does, wanting only for us all to love her. Me, my sisters, Miranda. That’s the only thing that drives her anymore.” What he asks next sends a spear of shock through my gut.

“So why haven’t you left?”

Why haven’t I left? God, that’s a very good question. I can go outside, I can fend for myself quite easily. So why not? The answer is much harder than anything else I could say.

“Because if I leave, I die.” His mouth drops at the bluntness of my response, and I have to fight to keep my voice steady. “My pendant is burned into my chest. If I try to leave, my mother can break the charm on it that keeps the silver poisoning from spreading, and kill me. I stay with her because I’m sick of dying. I’m sick of living. I’m sick of not having a choice on which I do. So I choose to stay, because it’s the only choice I have.” He doesn’t have a follow up question, and the silence that was once comfortable now feels suffocating. “Thank you for helping me, Karl. I need to get back now. I’ll see you soon, I’m sure.”

Without so much as another beat of my heart I swarm, quickly finishing the ascent back up to my home, not reforming until I’m firmly inside the doors.

Heisenberg's POV

When I found her, mounted to the wall like some goddamn experiment, it felt like my entire world stopped moving. She was alive, but the white sheen on her face told me that wouldn’t be the case for very long. I know for a fact that this oaf didn’t ask Miranda if he could do this, so that was my opening, and thank god it worked. I was able to get her out of there before something bad really happened. Out in the sunlight she seems more calm, but she’s still too pale. It strikes me that she needs blood, to replace what he took. I start to scramble mentally, not sure where to find her something to eat, not wanting to leave her to do it.

The thought breezes through my head in a split second. If she needs blood, I think, she can drink mine. Then I think about the parasite infecting my body and I grimace, I doubt she’ll really want that. Still, however, I offer, and a warm tingle goes up my back when she agrees. When she starts mouthing at the cut I made on my arm I fight every fiber of my being to stop myself from shivering. The feeling of her tongue swiping over it, the deep but gentle sucking and the blissed out look on her face is almost too much for me. Almost too much but somehow not nearly enough.

The moment is over almost as soon as it starts. She releases my arm from her hands and pulls back, her breath still ghosting over my skin. I want to tell her she can keep going, just to feel it again, to see her like that, but I know she stopped for a reason so I don’t push it. After steadying our breathing and calming down, I decided to break the silence and try talking to her.

Our conversation is airy, but I can’t stop myself from asking the question I’ve been dying to know the answer to for ages, ‘are you scared of your mother’. When she says yes my blood boils. She tells me how her mother came back fucked up and forced the change onto her. She didn’t want this life either. She tries to keep her voice stable but I can still hear the hints of it shaking. The next question falls from my mouth before I can stop it.

“Why haven’t you left?” I propose. This seems to stump her for a minute, but she pulls her shoulders back and her face droops in resignation. I want to tell her she doesn’t have to answer, but she does before I get a chance.

“Because if I leave, I die.” She tells me, and I feel like I’ve been punched in the throat. She explains how the pendant she has is burned into her body, which explains why I never see it move, and that if she leaves her mother will take the charm off of it and let her die. It’s silver, the same material used to stab her those weeks ago. If I look close enough I can see small back veins around where the pendant sits, evidence that it would kill her. Before I can say anything else she’s gone, whisked back to her tower, far away from me. When she’s gone it feels less warm in the sun, everything somehow dimmer. I’m going to find a way to save her, I think to myself, and nobody will ever hurt her again.

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