#and keeping me trapped within my own masking

[lizzyiii]

His Lady Love (4)

pairing | aemond targaryen x vampire!mikaelson!reader

taglist | to be added to the taglist just add your username to this DOC ✨

word count | 4k words

summary | reader becomes lost in her thoughts. viserys dies, discussions with helaena, alicent, and aemond

tags | blood, violence, death, angst/no comfort (cuz no one knows she's a vampire), vampire powers, tensionnnnn, reader lowkey supports rhaenyra's claim, but she loves team green as if they're her family sooooo.

note | REMINDER: reader is just a teenage girl who wants her mommy, but is forced to be a blood-sucking vampire. also I haven't thought about the mikaelsons in a while and I just remembered how finn mikaelson was my favourite. #justiceforfinnmikaelson. he's so overhated for what?!!

likes, comments, reblogs are much appreciated ✨

𝐏𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐨𝐮𝐬 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 - 𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭 - 𝐍𝐞𝐱𝐭 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫

You were engulfed in confusion—terribly so. Confusion swirled within you like the smoky shadows of the Keep's halls. The unexpected kiss from Prince Aemond echoed in your mind, a fiery spark that ignited a torrent of thoughts as you navigated the labyrinthine passages of Maegor's hidden passageways heading towards Flee Bottom. Cloaked in shadow, you traversed the dimly lit tunnel—one you discovered long ago during the cold, shadowy days of your arrival in King's Landing. But as you slipped through the ancient stone corridors, your thoughts remained anchored to that fleeting moment when Aemond’s lips brushed against yours—intense yet tantalizingly soft.

The kiss was a sudden tempest, and the weight of it left you breathless. His strong, musky scent lingered in the air, a potent reminder of his presence, while his calloused fingers cradled your face with an unusual gentleness. You couldn’t help the unbidden smile that crept across your lips. drawing you further from the gravity of your circumstances. In those fleeting seconds, you felt like a simple girl, unburdened by the Mikaelson curse. You imagined yourself as the heroine of a fable, where a gallant prince would pursue his beloved, proclaiming his devotion before stealing a kiss—precisely as Aemond had done.

As you pressed on, a tavern's raucous laughter and the unmistakable aroma of ale and smoke guided your steps. It loomed ahead, a warm beacon against the chaotic backdrop of Flea Bottom. You pulled back your hood, exposure blossoming as you emerged into the dim light. Almost at once, a rather rotund man stumbled out, his unsteady gait hinting at the heaps of wine he’d consumed inside. Fat and flush, with a beard flecked with remnants of his last meal, he teetered on the brink of inebriation, blissfully unaware of the trap that awaited him. With a bleary gaze, he locked eyes with you, his drunken smirk betraying the more unsavory intentions that lurked beneath his merry facade.

Your heart raced—not with fear, but with mischief. Blood would be spilled tonight, but not yours. You softened your expression into a sweet smile, a mask of angelic innocence that belied your true intentions, as you approached.

His dull gaze sharpened upon your arrival, eyes widening as if you were a vision from the Seven’s very own realms. “You’re a pretty girl,” he slurred, the words tumbling from his lips like the last drops from an overturned flagon.

A soft laugh escaped you, a sound like wind chimes in a summer haze. “Am I?” you replied, your voice playful and melodious,.

The man nodded with fervor, his expression blissfully captivated. Beneath the dim lantern light, you could see the way his thoughts scrambled like rats, floundering beneath the weight of both drink and desire. With a teasing tilt of your head, you gestured toward a shadowy alleyway not far from the tavern's entrance. “Why don't you show me how pretty I am?” you beckoned, your tone flirtatious.

His swollen features broke into a foolish, drunken grin as he stumbled forward, entranced, unaware of the peril that followed too closely in your wake. Such was the way of men like him—lost beyond recovery in the coils of their own indulgences, ripe for the taking beneath the watchful eyes of gods indifferent to their fate.

As you entered the narrow alleyway, the shadows seemed to swell around you, encasing you in an ominous embrace. Before you could even turn around, the man's grimy hands, reeking of sour wine and desperation, were upon you, grasping and pawing at your garments.

A wave of revulsion threatened to rise within you, yet you steeled your resolve. Summoning your vampiric strength, with a swift motion, you shoved him hard against the damp stone wall, his body slumping in surprise.

He let out a raucous laugh, the sound echoing off the walls like a jester’s overplayed jest. You grimaced at the foulness of his breath, the acrid scent assailing your senses. “Oh, you’re a strong girl, are you?” he slurred, a foolish grin plastered across his round face.

“Indeed,” you replied, your voice laced with disinterest. Your gaze sharpened, intensity pooling in your crimson irises as you began to weave the threads of your compulsion. “Be silent and remain still.”

With each word, you could feel his will wavering, his body succumbing to your command as his laughter turned into a slack-jawed stupor. The stench of his unwashed skin assailed your nostrils, but it barely registered now as your fangs elongated, sharp and glistening in the hopeless half-light of the alley.

Leaning in close, you felt the rush of your animalistic urges surge through you as your fangs pierced the delicate flesh of his neck, finding the pulsing artery with ease. The man whimpered, his feeble sounds mingling with the night air, yet he made no effort to resist; he was a mere vessel now, a source of sustenance for your insatiable thirst. The bitter warmth of his blood coursed down your throat, igniting a mix of satisfaction and despair.

As you fed, your mind wandered unbidden to Aemond—the fleeting memory of the kiss you had shared igniting a spark of longing that warred with your harsh reality. In that moment, the illusion of being a normal maiden, one capable of love and tenderness, faded into the dark abyss of your existence. The truth clawed at you like a ravenous beast; you were a creature of the night, bound by a thirst that rendered your dreams of affection but a distant whisper.

A wave of sorrow crashed over you, its weight pressing heavy upon your heart. Tears pricked at your eyes, blurring your vision as despair settled deep within your soul. In a fit of anguish, you tore your fangs from his flesh, the act frenzied and primal, as you ripped through his throat. A sob escaped your lips, raw and aching, as you stepped back and allowed the lifeless form to crumple to the ground. Blood smeared across your jaw, a grotesque mark of your nature, but your thoughts strayed not to the corpse before you.

How cruelly fate had woven your path; Aemond, with his fierce spirit and brooding whispers, was a world beyond your grasp. Yet every stolen glance, every shared moment between you only served to deepen the agonizing contrast of your reality. You cast the dead man one last glance, his stillness a haunting reminder of your actions, before turning your back on the grim tableau. As you made your way back towards the Keep, you felt a solitary tear trace a path down your cheek—one more sign of your unfulfilled yearning, echoing in the vast silence of the night.

As you crossed the threshold into your chambers, the heavy atmosphere of despair clung tightly to your spirit. You searched for a damp cloth to cleanse yourself—tinged with the vivid crimson remnants of the blood you had once savored, now leaving a bitter taste in the pit of your stomach. Though the vampiric curse bestowed upon you allowed for days without rest, weariness prevailed, drawing you like a shadow toward your bed.

You felt the weight of your heart, heavy with sorrow and longing for the comfort of sleep—a refuge where you could escape the chains of your reality. Tomorrow, the court would buzz with intrigue and whispers, but you doubted you would leave your chambers. In those fleeting moments between wakefulness and dreams, perhaps you could imagine yourself as someone else—a maiden free of bloodlust, pure and deserving of Aemond's fierce devotion. In those dreams, you could be free. In those dreams, you would be whole.

As the lingering echoes of the previous night's woes finally faded, you stirred, your senses slowly awakening from a slumber that felt both unearthly and heavy with dreams. With a deep sigh, you pushed your head from the pillow, blinking against the fading light that spilled through the window. The sun had dipped lower on the horizon, casting shadows that danced across the stone walls of your chamber—a stark reminder that you had now squandered the day sleeping away.

With a reluctant grace, you rose from the silken sheets that embraced you, and wrung your hands through your tresses, managing to tame the wild locks that had battled against the weight of sleep. Yet, as you got dressed, a sense of urgency gnawed at you. You drew closer to the heavy oak door, intent on rejoining the world beyond its threshold. However, your fingers merely grazed the handle to reveal that it was stubbornly sealed.

Furrowing your brow in irritation, you exerted a bit more force, pulling at the handle, only to find it locked. A huff escaped your lips, and with a determined glare directed at the obstinate barrier, you pressed your hands against the frame, using your strength and pushed. The wood shuddered against your might, yielding at last, the door swinging open with a reluctant creak that echoed through the silence of the guest wing.

When you stepped into the hallway, an unsettling quiet enveloped you, the stillness stretching like an unseen net. You advanced cautiously, each footfall a reminder that something was amiss. Yet, you dismissed the haunting unease that prickled at your skin, shaking off the chill while you made your way forward, resolute in your purpose, as you sought Helaena’s chambers.

The atmosphere in Helaena’s solar was suffused with the same unsettling. The last rays of sunlight filtered weakly through the stained glass, casting muted colors that danced across the flagstones, but they did little to dispel the heaviness of the atmosphere. Helaena, draped in a gown of pale blue, sat by the window, her gaze lost in the distance, and her delicate embroidery forgotten on the chaise, threads of gold and silver glimmering like fleeting memories.

“Princess,” you ventured softly, stepping closer, your voice barely a whisper against the weight of the silence.

She turned slowly, her features—usually serene—now marred by a deep frown that spoke of profound grief. “Where were you?” Helaena’s voice, though devoid of accusation, dripped with a melancholy that made your heart ache.

“Confined in my chambers,” you replied, concern creasing your brow.

Her eyes drifted downcast, fingers twisting nervously together like the tangled threads of her abandoned work. “I am queen now,” she murmured.

Confusion washed over you, a furrow forming between your brows. “I don’t understand.”

“Father died last night,” she revealed, her voice hollow, as if she were reciting a grim tale rather than sharing a wound that plunged deep into the heart of House Targaryen. “Aegon’s coronation took place at midday.”

“Oh,” was all you managed, the weight of her words pressing down upon you like a winter frost.

You had never anticipated this so soon; the insatiable hunger for the Iron Throne had prompted a brutal and ruthless usurpation. The whispers of civil war—so distant and abstract until now—had materialized into a bitter reality. You settled beside her, the familiar warmth of your presence a fragile comfort amidst the tempest of her sorrow. Gently, you took one of Helaena’s hands in yours, your fingers intertwining. She squeezed your hand tightly, her grip a silent plea for strength, and you could feel the tremors of her despair ripple through the fragile connection that bound you together.

The sun had long dipped below the horizon, casting shadows across the Red Keep when you at last emerged from Helaena’s chambers. The weight of her weariness had pulled her into a restless slumber, leaving you with a restless heart. You meandered through the stone corridors, each echoing step leading you toward the chambers of the one whose counsel you desperately sought. Upon reaching the heavy oak door, you knocked gently, and a faint voice called from within, "Enter."

Pushing the door open, you stepped into the dimly lit chamber. The flickering flames of the hearth danced, casting a warm glow that played across the fine tapestries adorning the walls. Your eyes settled on the figure seated by the fire—The Queen, though perhaps now, the dowager Queen.

"Your Grace," you greeted, your voice laced with reverence.

Alicent turned, the light catching her features, her once bright eyes now shadowed with the weight of loss and duty. The depths of her large brown irises seemed to brighten with a flicker of comfort at your arrival, but the sorrow was unmistakable as she murmured your name. "I apologize for the constraints placed upon you. My father thought it best that all liege lords and ladies be confined to their chambers in light of recent events."

You nodded, empathy swelling in your chest as you took a seat beside her. "Helaena shared with me the tale of what transpired," you began cautiously, your gaze intent upon the queen's weary expression.

Alicent sighed, the sound heavy with grief. "The King," she spoke, pain sweeping over her like an ominous fog, “he spoke of Aegon, he named him as heir in his final moments.”

Your heart tightened at her words; skepticism gnawed at the edges of your mind. Could it truly be? "Yet, Your Grace," you ventured, a hint of disbelief coloring your tone, "the King had twenty-two years to declare Aegon as his rightful heir."

Alicent turned her gaze back to the fire, the flickering flames casting an ephemeral glow upon her face. The warmth that once radiated from her presence seemed dimmed, replaced with an aura of fragility. She drew a shaky breath. "Perhaps it is not a matter of time, but of choice," she murmured, her words weaving through the shadows of the room, "In that moment of despair, he grasped for certainty amidst the chaos.”

Certainty which embodied the drunken Aegon? A skeptical expression crossed your features, yet the desperation in the Queen’s gaze expressed to you that it was indeed the truth to her. Despite her conviction, you found yourself unable to fully surrender to her narrative. "Then why did Aegon’s coronation happen so quickly?" you challenged, the words falling from your lips like shards of ice.

For this, the Queen faltered. Her eyes slipped away, a slow shake of her head revealing the anguish that resided within. "If Rhaenyra were to ascend the throne, the lives of Aegon, Helaena, Aemond and Daeron would be forever in danger," she murmured, the words laced with the indoctrination of Otto Hightower.

You held a quiet disbelief in your heart. Rhaenyra, with her fierce spirit and benevolence, would not turn her blades against her half-siblings without provocation. Still, you understood the origins of Alicent’s dread. After all, Rhaenyra was married to Daemon, who was likely to see the children of Alicent as forever living threats to his wife's claim. Still, all thoughts of treachery were now ghosts in the face of Aegon's coronation.

“Will you accompany me to the Sept on the morrow?” Alicent's voice broke the silence, a quiet plea wrapped in a veil of vulnerability.

In that moment, you were swept away by a tidal wave of longing for your own mother. Before you embraced the demonic creature you had become, your mother had nurtured you with a love akin to that of a fallen star gracing the Earth. Now, you found solace in the fragile figure of Alicent Hightower, clinging to her presence as though she might fill the void left by your lost mother. With a gentle nod, you covered her slender hand with your own, "Of course, your grace."

The dawn’s light seeped hesitantly through the thick drapery of your chamber, casting a muted hue across the stone walls of the Red Keep. You stirred from restless dreams, where shadows danced ominously on the precipice of war. A chill licked the air, as if the very stones of Westeros mourned the blood that would soon be spilled. With a sense of foreboding, you rose before the sun had fully chased away the darkness.

Slowly, you donned a gown of soft lilac, the fabric whispering against your skin like the breeze that crept through the narrow window. You painstakingly braided your hair, arranging it delicately. Each movement was imbued with both purpose and trepidation, a ritual that anchored you amidst the chaos that brewed beyond the castle walls.

Before the winds of fate had cast you adrift in Westeros, you had known nothing of faith; the Norse gods of your childhood were mere tales spun by your parents, who were as skeptical of the divine as they were of the world outside their doors. In your past life, the gods felt distant, ethereal, and removed from the fervor of humanity. Yet here, in the heart of Westeros, how the world spun differently.

But within the regal presence of Queen Alicent, whose strength and grace reminded you of a lioness guarding her young, your skepticism began to erode. She embodied the devotion of the faith you had once dismissed; her prayers were filled with fervor as she sought to protect her kin and forge alliances among the houses of Westeros. In her company, you found solace in the faith of the Seven. To kneel before the Mother’s statue, adorned with offerings, was to partake in a ritual that tethered you to something greater, something almost palpable

You found solace in the quiet prayer sessions held in the Grand Sept, the flickering candles casting gentle silhouettes that danced like restless spirits against the stone. In the embrace of the faith, you discovered understanding of why mortals have always turned to religion: it was a way to combat the loneliness that often shrouded their hearts, a mechanism to find purpose and justification in their actions. Your fervent prayers often echoed the same request: a plea for safety—not only for the Targaryens, whose fates now intertwined with yours, but for the family you had left behind.

You prayed fervently for the Gods to soften Niklaus’ heart and lessen his wrath. You implored them to instill in Elijah the profound love he often failed to bestow upon himself. For Rebekah, you sought kindness; you yearned for her to see you not as competition, but her cherished sister. You called upon the heavens to grant Kol wisdom, challenging his rampant bloodlust that often clouded his judgment. And for your gentle Finn, trapped in the dark confines of a coffin wrought by Niklaus’s cruelty, you begged for respite—an end to his suffering and a chance to embrace his freedom at last. Your prayers extended toward your youngest brother, Hendrik, and for your beloved mother as well, who now resided among the stars in Heaven.

And even sometimes with a heavy heart, you whispered prayers for your father as well, pleading for mercy in the depths of his obsession, hoping that perhaps one day, he might find forgiveness before it consumed all the Mikaelsons.

Your thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a knock at your chamber door. Puzzled, you rose from your vanity, the delicate scent of jasmine lingering in the air around you. As you approached the door and opened it, your breath caught in your throat at the sight of Aemond standing there, his presence a commanding force. In that fleeting moment, your mind drifted back to the night years ago when a thirteen-year-old, tousled Aemond had appeared before you—so innocent, so unrefined. But now, the boy had transformed into a striking man, confidence radiating from him.

Time seemed to stretch as the two of you locked eyes, an unspoken weight hovering between you, memories of the kiss you shared two nights prior flooding your thoughts.

“May I come in?” he asked, shattering the spell that had enveloped you both. You nodded, albeit with a hint of hesitation, stepping aside to let him enter. His musky scent enveloped you, a wild and intoxicating aroma that stirred something deep within.

With a small pout lingering on your lips, you inquired, “What brings you here?”

“I came to see how you were faring,” he replied, standing awkwardly in the center of your dimly lit chamber, like the sun caught in the shadows.

You huffed softly, wrapping your arms around yourself, a protective gesture that belied your ancient nature. It was strange—centuries of existence coursing through your veins, a vampire of untold ages; yet here, in the presence of Aemond, you felt like a naïve girl enchanted by the shadows that danced between you.

You spoke with a raw honesty that felt both freeing and heavy, “I’ll confess,” you replied, your voice tinged with frustration, “I’m both surprised and vexed to find myself confined to this chamber all day, only to emerge and learn that the King is dead and Aegon has claimed the throne.” A sigh escaped your lips as you cast your gaze to the side, memories of your family washing over you like a forgotten tide. “I was always the last to know in my family as well."

Aemond stepped closer, a teasing smirk finding his lips, clearly amused by your candidness laced with sass. “I must take my leave shortly to secure Borros Baratheon’s allegiance,” he stated, his voice filled with formality, yet laced with something unspoken.

Your eyes locked onto his striking violet one, and you arched an eyebrow, “So?”

“In exchange for his support, the council has arranged my marriage to one of his daughters,” he murmured, letting the words hang between you like a dark omen, scrutinizing your reaction with utmost care.

"Oh," in that moment, it felt as if your heart had splintered into countless shards. You forced a nod, turning away to shield the tempest of emotions brewing within you, striving for a façade of indifference, “Such is your duty, then.”

“It is,” he admitted, positioning himself directly in front of you, a palpable intensity radiating from his presence. Yet, you continued to avoid his gaze, perhaps in a desperate bid to escape this reality. And as you remained steadfast in your gaze away from him, he added softly, “But when I arrive there, it is Daeron’s hand I intend to offer instead.”

Your heart raced at his declaration, the pulse quickening against the cage of your ribs, yet you still refused to meet look at him, “Why?” you whispered, the question barely escaping your lips.

Aemond softened his stance, his fingers brushing against your cheek as he guided your face to meet his gaze. “Look at me, sweet girl,” he implored, his voice now a low, fervent whisper, compelling you to meet the intensity of his unwavering stare. “Because the only woman in this realm that I wish to call my own is you.”

Pain flashed in your heart, a flood of emotions crashing over you as you furrowed your brows, your voice trembling with uncertainty. “Aemond…”

He leaned closer, placing a gentle kiss upon your forehead, a benediction of sorts. “We will discuss this further upon my return,” he murmured, his breath warming your skin.

With that, he turned away, departing into the shadows that awaited him beyond the door. Alone, you pressed your palms to your mouth, constricting a gut-wrenching sob that echoed in the hollow silence of your chamber, a lament for the hope that quickly flickered out like a dying candle.

next up, Aemond coming back from Storms End

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[jessamine-rose]

⋆˚♱ଘ Requiem for the Damned ଓ♱˚⋆

*holds head in hands* Idk why Dottore keeps haunting me with writing inspo. And for this idea to manifest just before Holy Week….fuck it, I hope you all enjoy the blasphemous tale of Priest! Dottore x Demon! Darling _:(´ཀ`」 ∠):

Tw:: yandere, violence, death, religious abuse, dubcon, mention of nsfw, MINORS DNI

Note:: fictional depictions of religion

♡ 2.7k words under the cut ♡

♡ Despite your status as a wandering demon, you have no place in human cognizance. Rather, you conceal yourself from mortal eyes in favor of close observations and whispered temptations. Humans, from your perspective, are interesting creatures—they are ambitious, easily influenced by spiritual beings, capable of both good and evil.

♡ And what better example than the one who summoned you on a starry night? Such rituals are not uncommon amongst heretics, but most only succeed in invoking the contempt of their fellow humans. And few would invoke your name, much less commit sacrilege within the walls of the Church.

♡ You sense danger immediately upon your appearance. Within the summoning circle, you take note of your sigil perfectly illustrated in blood against marble. Beyond it, what alarms you is not your sacred surroundings nor the fresh corpse mixed with your offerings of books and fruit. It is the figure standing over you, cloaked in moonlight, gazing at you with eyes the color of hellfire.

“My ritual is a success. Welcome to my humble church, o noble demon…or would you rather be addressed by your epithet? ______, Fallen Seraph, the Seeker of Forbidden Knowledge.”

♡ A glimpse into his soul is all it takes to strike fear into your heart. Within Hell, there are rumors of a small village in Sumeru. Its people are nothing of note, a congregation of simpletons whose lives revolve around the beliefs of their Church. The lone exception is the main priest, Father Zandik, better known as Il Dottore.

♡ The stories, passed through human voices, speak of a child ostracized for his unconventional beliefs and his interest in the macabre. Branded a madman, he was placed in the care of the Church elders who corrected his ways of thinking. Once he became of age, Zandik was given the choice to move out of the rectory or to remain as a priest; he chose the latter of his own volition.

♡ Since his ordination, Zandik has proved himself to be an exceptional priest. He educates the masses, reviews theological texts, performs exorcisms, and provides religious counsel for the doubtful. He even serves as the town’s doctor, fully gaining the acceptance of his community.

♡ The rumors don’t stop there. For Il Dottore earned his title by performing miracles. It is he who guides the people into religious ecstasy, he who cures the sick from mysterious curses, he who blesses the weak into “enhanced humans.” There are already whispers that once Dottore’s mortality catches up with him, he will surely be canonized as the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles.

♡ But spiritual beings such as yourself know the truth. That Dottore is neither a kind priest nor a devout believer, that his days in the Church only magnified his heretical inclinations. Disillusioned with God, Zandik decided to turn His religious sanctuary into his own laboratory, one where he could fulfill his lust for knowledge through a mask of holiness.

♡ He manipulates the people with false teachings. He triggers religious ecstasy with drugged incense. He singles out devotees to “test their faith” during the quiet hours of the Church. And what the town perceives as curses and miracles are actually scientific experiments in which Dottore plays god.

♡ It’s too late to escape. No matter your divine powers, nothing prepares you for Dottore’s traps. The incantations, the barrier of the summoning circle, an aura so holy yet sinister that it couldn’t possibly come from ordinary religious objects—all you can do is fall to your knees and beg for his mercy, all the while he watches you with a confident smile.

♡ His intentions are like that of any human: He summoned you to form a contract. In exchange for his soul, he demands your knowledge, your resources, your full servitude for so long as he roams the mortal plane. Your hesitation only triggers another wave of scorching pain, followed by panic as Dottore grips your horn and forces you to face him.

“Make no mistake, ______. The mere fact of your divinity does not make you indestructible. In exchange for your cooperation, you will bear witness to experiments of the same magnitude as God’s creations. What say you?”

♡ You have no other choice. And that is how, in the sanctity of the Church, you make a deal with the human named Zandik. Once the pact has been forged, Dottore admires the bright sigil on his chest, plucks a few feathers from your wings, and disables the summoning circle so you can leave. Thus begins your personal hell.

♡ It is easy for you to answer Dottore’s questions about the divine. The horror lies in assisting him in experiments, responding to his summons no matter the inconvenience, allowing him to extract your blood, tears, and feathers. No, what’s most humiliating is when he uses your body for his “research,” bending you over the altar and bringing you to physical ecstasy against your will.

♡ At this point, you don’t know who to pray to. One night, Dottore shows you a secret room in his laboratory. As soon as he lights the lamps, your eyes take in numerous bodies and skeletons of a different classification from his usual victims. The extra bones jutting from the scapulas, the amputated wings, the halos pinned to the walls, the holy aura you’d felt from his religious objects…instantly, Dottore’s powers make sense.

“This is my first specimen. She was my guardian angel…no, I jest. She was a mere messenger who implored me to repent for my sins. From her words, I deduced it had been within Heaven’s capacity to save me during my youth—and yet God only sent an angel to me after my first act of blasphemy.”

The angels…how many has he killed? Not even during your fall from Heaven did you feel such primal fear for your life. But you cannot scream—you have long been trained to resist fight and flight. All you can do is listen to Dottore’s explanation, watch as he approaches a pure white skeleton and wraps his hands around its fractured hyoid bone.

He gives you a calm smile. “Luckily, her body provided me with indispensable resources for my experiments and my procurement of her brethren. I believe her name was Sohreh.”

♡ Just when you think it can’t get any worse, Dottore points at the far corner of the room to reveal a space dedicated to demons. Four dead bodies, their causes of death vividly described. Horns, wings, and other body parts amputated in exchange for lives spared after exorcisms. And when Dottore returns to your side, tracing the wound from where he broke off your horn, you can only tremble and acquiesce to a checkup. It grows back fully by the end of the year.

♡ He has his moments of vulnerability, however. Perhaps it is due to your nature as a demon, a creature which represents evil, that Dottore does not hide his heart from you. Once, after his usual confessions—he always makes up trivial sins—he remains in the confessional until his fellow priest has left. Then he goes to the altar and summons you.

♡ What catches you off-guard is not his lack of greetings. Rather, it’s the way he pulls you close to his body, lips ghosting the curve of your ear. There, in the heart of the Church, he whispers to you every sin he has ever committed. Despite his normal tone of voice, his words have never betrayed a language so guiltless, so sincere, so human.

♡ He asks how much of his madness is to blame on the influence of demons, or if he had been born wicked. He asks if humans were truly given the mental faculties to withstand temptation regardless of their circumstances. He asks if the same can be said for spiritual beings, questioning why former angels like you were also created with the capacity to sin. He even asks if praying for a demon can offer them any hope of salvation.

♡ It takes you a while to answer his questions. It’s just like him to put your emotions in disarray, to make you feel pity for the very cause of your current suffering. Against your nature, you wonder if there is still a chance for Zandik, if he can somehow repent or find a way to save himself from your contract and all of his sins. Even if it is too late, He has always been more forgiving to humans than angels.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

“Do you know why I became a demon, Zandik?”

Your question is what prompts Zandik to pull away from you, though his touch lingers. His gaze, as always, is unfathomable; you can never discern what hides within those pools of crimson.

“No, I do not. Few demonological texts allude to your existence, and only the Lesser Key of Deshret cites your previous status as an angel of the highest ranking. I have made theories in relation to your epithets but I respect all possibilities. Now what would you, as the primary source, reveal to me?”

Now it is your turn to confess.

“Seraphim are the closest to God but for that reason, we are the most distant from His creations. Everything we know of the world is derived only from what He tells us, not our own insights. And so I defied His Word and ate the forbidden fruit from the Tree of Knowledge, committing the same sin which condemned all of humanity.”

The tip of your upper wing brushes against Zandik’s face, while your middle wings encircle his body in a loose hug. As for your lower wings…they are nothing but twin scars covered in short feathers. After your descent, it seemed like a rational decision to chop them off, broken as they were. It helped that your wings had just outgrown their original purpose.

For once, you barely flinch at the sensation of his touch against your scars. Many times, Zandik has inquired about the loss of your lower wings and even asked if he could have them. They still remain in Hell, tucked away in a corner of your home, eyes forever closed.

It takes a few seconds for him to respond. “Do you ever regret your decision?”

You shrug. “It was difficult at first, naturally. Many of my eyes were blinded—yes, that is why I rarely open the ones on my wings—but those which still function have seen so many wonderful sights up-close. Neither must I cover my face with my remaining wings. And despite being what your kind and my former brethren would dub a monster…I’m happier now.”

“I see, I see.” His curiosity appears far from sated, however, a sentiment you can empathize with. “As I thought, God is incomprehensible. For Him to deny even His greatest creation of salvation…it confirms that there are limits to the forgiveness of that which humans call a ‘loving god.’ Thank you for sharing this knowledge with me.”

And just as quickly as he initiated his confession, Zandik steps out of your grasp and dismisses you. But you make no haste, silently watching him after you “leave.”

His expression is thoughtful. A gloved hand touches his chest, right above your sigil.

Such an interesting creature.

Honestly, you don’t know what to make of your feelings for this human. Much as you despise his cruel treatment towards you, he never fails to capture your interest with his experiments and philosophies. Whenever he speaks of God, you wonder if a small part of him still desires to be saved. But that will never be.

Zandik preaches salvation with the knowledge that he will never receive it. For the Church never taught him how to love.

ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨ـ♡ﮩ٨ـﮩﮩ٨

♡ Il Dottore never became the Patron Saint of Doctors and Miracles. Neither did he have a funeral mass befitting of a priest, nor a peaceful death from natural causes. Instead, he died young, laicized, once again denounced as a heretic by his community.

♡ You don’t know how his crimes were exposed, and why now. Perhaps it is God’s punishment for him, a blessing for his victims, or both. Either way, Dottore paid for his sins on a sunny day, burned at the stake before a disdainful crowd. Not long after his heart stopped beating, his belongings were thrown into the fire—research, tools, anything which carried his memory.

♡ You never left his side. After his last rites, led by an elderly bishop who condemned Zandik as he did in the past, you sat next to him and offered a final conversation. He didn’t express any fear nor sadness in regards to his imminent death, merely stating it a pity that his achievements could never be appreciated in his town.

♡ …He did ask if there is any chance of meeting again in Hell, but you reminded him that the punishment of sinners is out of your jurisdiction. Plus, it’s better that way—you have no desire to avenge yourself, and you’d rather not witness Zandik’s suffering for all eternity. You can only imagine the severity of his punishment, what more if he is assigned to one of the demons he exorcized.

♡ During his execution, you stood at the front of the crowd. You kept your eyes trained on him, for so long as his scarlet orbs remained open, whispering the prayers for the dead on his behalf. While a part of you felt liberated, another was mournful. You hope your last words to Zandik gave him solace in his final moments.

“Rest now, Zandik. God may never forgive your sins, but I shall.”

♡ And thus ends the life of Il Dottore. In the following days, the Church is purged of its holy, sinister aura, mainly because they discarded the religious objects tainted with angel remains. You continue your usual obligations as a wandering demon, but the humans you observe pale in comparison to your companion of many years.

♡ Not long after, you return to Hell for your other divine duties. As soon as you appear in your abode, however, something feels off. The sinister aura, the offering of books and fruit, your lower wings gone from their original place… The answer comes in the form of a hand grabbing you by the horn, pulling you backwards, twisting your body to meet a familiar gaze the color of hearth-fire. Only, this time, those eyes are brimming with pure joy, paired with a genuine smile.

♡ Apparently, Dottore’s soul did end up in Hell but not in the way you expected. In a proud voice, he explains that the Devil gave him a special fate. Whether it was due to vacant positions or everyone’s fear of the infamous “Demon-Killer,” you’ll never know. What Dottore does confirm is that as the demon bound to him via contract, you have to take responsibility and act as his companion in Hell.

“Rather than subject me to eternal suffering, the Devil believed that my talents would prove useful for the punishments of my fellow sinners. How wonderful is it for my achievements to be recognized in Hell? …Oh? I didn’t predict such a physical reaction from you. All of your eyes are wide open, and you seem to be on the verge of fainting.”

♡ You don’t know if you want to laugh or cry. To think your personal hell has been extended to eternity—are your sins enough to warrant such a fate?! But after confirming your misfortune, all you can do is sigh and tend to Zandik. He looks exactly the same, with the exception of a few burn scars on his body. And judging by the familiar black feathers on his person, he seems eager to discard his former religious attire along with his mask of faith.

♡ And when Zandik unfastens his scorched cassock, he takes your hand and places it on his unburned chest, right above your sigil. It glows vibrantly, brighter than any light you laid eyes on in Heaven. And beneath the flesh, you can feel his heart beating in sync with yours.

“Tell me, ______, do I still appear human to you?”

“You already know my answer to that question. But fine, I’ll admit it: Yes, you always have.”

♡ 

More Church AU here!! Capitano ๑ Arlecchino ๑ Pantalone ๑ Pierro ๑ Dainsleif

Note:: Please do not send me any Church AU asks/ requests involving other characters or dynamics who are not listed in my masterlist.

At long last, I am free from Priesttore…thank you to everyone. To my readers, to my fellow Dottore simps, to my mutuals who indulged my tortured DMs after midnight, to the artist whose fan art inspired this idea to begin with. May you all have a lovely day╰(*´︶`*)╯♡

Tag a Dottore enjoyer!! @leftdestiny-posts @beloved-blaiddyd @mochinon-yah @diodellet @lcveaesop @oofasleep @bye-bye-sunbird @yandere-romanticaa @boundinparchment @harmonysanreads @teabutmakeitazure @yandere-wishes @yanmaresu @nicebonescomrades @nimandu @lesanyanyas @moarar

[xoblondie]

Dark!Mattheo Riddle Headcannons 💋

TW: 18+, stalker, Kidnapping and non-con content

Dark Mattheo who…

Switches up so quickly. One moment he's the soft and loving boy you fell for in hogwarts. The next he's tossing you aside like your a cigarette bud, and stomping you out.

"You're so gorgeous my love." In soft, playful whispers when you wake up in his arms.

To "Get out of my sight you disgusting bitch." Over the tiniest of mistakes.

If you ever try to leave him, he'll make sure you can't ever leave him. Locking you up in his manor, wandless and afraid. And if you ever escaped...

He would have Theo, and his friends on your tail within minutes. His death eaters would have no shame tearing you away from muggle establishments and would dispose of whatever and whoever got in their way. All adorned in those lifeless silver masks, that often haunt your dreams at night. A power move on Mattheo’s part to spread more fear into you.

Or he would catch up to you with ease, taking matters into his own hands when you’ve especially pissed him off. Pinned to the forest floor, with his dirty death eater boot on your throat, threatening your ability to breathe. The old blood caked on them displayed like a portrait of sins, to your struggling eyes.

Yet he’d spoil you any chance he got, with jewelry, new dresses and lacey garments. All to doll you up and show you off to his friends and lower-class men. After all you are his most prized possession and such beauty must be shared with the world.

Dark Mattheo that would stalk your every move, watching you when your out with your friends, not letting you get any “ideas” of leaving him from them. Or letting you talk with any guys that weren’t his group of friends.

Dark Mattheo that would hold a blade to your throat, ignoring your tears and pleas, if you ever disobeyed him. Threatening to harm you if you didn't listen to him and comply with us demands. Who would carve his name into your soft skin, so that no one but him would ever be able to claim you. You were his.

(Omg the power difference!!)

You were never a star pupil at hogwarts, and you had always struggled with wandless magic making it easy for Mattheo to leave you powerless. So Mattheo often wouldn't let you carry your wand with you while in the manor.

"You're much too clumsy my dear, nothing in here would require you to use magic when the house elves can do it for you. I'll keep it safe for you though." When in reality he didn't want you to be able to escape his grasp. Or potentially overpower him.

Dark!Mattheo who makes you sit in on all his meetings, presenting you as a trophy of his. Watching as death eaters eye you up and boats about his prize to them. If anyone spills information you were never supposed to hear, he wouldn’t hesitate to obliviate you. Who cares if it left your brain fuzzy, you were to pretty to use it anyways!

There would be Wards and Spells on the manor that shift your perspective on its layout. Never letting you plan a way out or be able to leave the grounds without Mattheo going with you. The forest around would be worse, a labyrinth designed to trap you if you were to ever escape.

And though he was possessive and manipulative, he was still the same boy he was at hogwarts. Just hidden under the weight of his father’s legacy.

He was often still intimate however, letting you cuddle with him, shower together and share passionate moments. He would take you on romantic dates and treat you like a princess when he knew he had gone too far. (Rather than apologize…)

Sex is either the most passionate and loving experience, or purely hateful. On his good nights, he treats you like you were carved by the gods and put on this earth by them specifically for him. He’d focus solely on you and your needs, worshipping you for hours and just watching you cum over and over again.

“Fuck baby, you’re doing so good for me”

“that’s it baby, just a bit more”

But on his bad nights, he's rough and unforgiving, not caring for your needs or even if you wanted this in the first place. He would tie you down just so you’d stop pushing him away and lick your tears from your face as he forced himself into you.

“You wanna act like a slut then I’ll fucking treat you like a slut.”

“You wanna show off in front of my death eaters, but can’t handle being used by one?”

But in the end, you can’t help but to love his boyish grin or the way his eyes soften as he looks at you. Or the whispered promises of how he’ll marry you one day and leave all of this death eater stuff behind.

A/N: omg enjoy y’all <3 I’m editing this myself so ignore any typos or grammar issues! Also I’m super rusty so send me writing ideas (plz and Ty, I will love you forever)

[ang3lofdivinity]

❝𝐘𝐨𝐮'𝐫𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐬𝐮𝐧❞

⋆⁺｡˚⋆˙‧₊☽ ◯ ☾₊‧˙⋆˚｡⁺⋆

Relationship(s): Yan!Andy (Andrew) Graves x Fem!reader

Format: Headcanons + stories.

Genre: IMPLIED Smut + fluff + some angst(?)

Warnings: Consent mf, intimidation, SA from one of the wardens to the reader, masturbation (reader and Andy), Leyley isn't super overprotective, Reader is very naïve and too kind (they consider all friends), kidnapping, stalking, Andy is kinda turned on by the readers constant praise and nicknames for him, smoking, swearing, smut has been removed because.. the more I realize it I want this account to be decently fluff.

Andy is a very reserved person.

He's an introvert as per what his sister calls him.

And she's right.

He doesn't like being around others, he's pretty logical, he's also very calm.

But, what he doesn't know is how charming he is to others.

Hell, bunches of girls try and get with him, while Leyley obnoxiously tries to get rid of them all.

So, he's never really had a long term relationship with anyone aside his sister.

And over the years, he's managed to craft, a meticulously created one, a façade.

A mask he's worked on for years.

One that he knows will never crack.

But perhaps he got too confident.

Because when you came along, he was restraining himself practically from getting excited after the first time he saw you.

He saw you, being the new kid in class back when he was still in school at a young age before being trapped in that hellscape he called his home.

You were an extrovert it seemed, turning out to be the opposite. But, you still cared a lot about everything and everyone, you introduced yourself sweetly with something along the lines of..

"Good morning, I'm (____) (_____). If you need anything, I'll always be right here."

You were so calm, so pretty.. how could someone be so pretty?

You joined a bunch of after school activities, student council and such.

Although, you seemed a bit worried over something always every time he saw you.

He felt something within his stomach churn whenever he saw you though, not managing to gather enough courage to talk to you.

So, you had to initiate the contact.

You saw him, being all lonely..

That made you feel incredibly horrible, you were in that position yourself once too.

So, you approached him.

And his heart fluttered.

"Good evening.. you're Andrew Graves, right?" You inquired as you sat beside him at his lunch table as your friends immediately started whispering to each other.

"Oh- I- I'm Andrew Graves, yes.." he cringed at his own stuttering, but you didn't seem to mind.

"Why don't you come and sit at my table with my friends?" You invited him with a warm smile.

He felt butterflies in his stomach, a feeling he never had in a while..

"Are- you sure? They won't make fun of me?.." he asked, obviously worried.

"Of course not! If they do, we can have lunch together alone if you want!"

"..alright."

That was the day he became so clingy to you.

Usually, he's very cynical. But, for some reason with you.. he could feel that your actions were very genuine.

And that's what got him attached.

Along with your humor.

"I swear to fucking goddess if Miss Alta keeps telling me to not draw, I will—"

"Good morning, Miss Alta!" You exclaimed happily the moment your communications teacher stepped foot into the room.

He almost wheezed, letting out a giggle at his failed attempt to restrain himself. His expression turned into one filled with guilt and embarrassment, but before Miss Alta or any of the students spoke, you blurted out.

"Ah, Miss Alta, there's something wrong with the air conditioning. It keeps moving a bit and making that scraping noise." You semi-lied as you turned to Andrew and gave a more sincere smile before paying attention once more.

..you would just, lie for him like that..

Your smile could make him go crazy, it couldn't be compared to anything!! The way you cried, your tears streaming down your cheeks as you ran to him when you got hurt on the playground earlier- blue diamonds couldn't even compare to the richness of them, and the way you were very touchy..

You always held onto his hand, holding onto his shirt as you walked behind him anxiously, anytime when you got older and watched any horror movie and clang onto him.

That's when it all went to shit.

You had to leave the state.

THE STATE.

After you had just got settled after the last time where you moved here as a child!

He almost broke down, wanting to pour out all of his feelings as if it would change anything.

But it was official, and Leyley had him all to herself. It was like that for years.

He was all alone.

He felt empty.

He felt empty without you.

Like a part of his soul was torn from him.

And that stuck with him forever.

Some sort of dark, black tar over his heart made it feel disgusting and filthy.

But for the lonely part..

It wasn't like that for long.

When they grew older, he started dating someone after so long.

His (ex) girlfriend, Julia.

But eventually, that all ended when he got put into that quarantined building with Leyley.

She broke it off with him on one of those nights.

He sobbed about it, and Leyley didn't help.

But, that's when he got a strange phone call when Leyley was asleep and he was still up.

He was hesitant, but his gut told him to pick it up.

And that he did.

And that was one of the best decisions of his life.

"..Hello?" He spoke, his voice raspy. He was unsure of what telemarketer would be calling at this hour, and it couldn't possibly be someone he knew.

"Andrew?.. is this really you?!.."

That voice.. that voice instead changed his mind of this being some sort of telemarketer.. how? Because that’s your voice. After so many years, you had called him!

"..(____)?!" He yelped out, almost loud enough to wake LeyLey.

"Oh dear— I'm so glad I can hear your sweet voice again!!" You exclaimed, sounding like you were on the brink of tears.

All of those previous feelings he had for you back when you were still around, they all came back in a flurry, overwhelming him.

"(____), I'm.. how did you get this number?.." he wanted to ask you so much more, but that's all that came out at the moment.

"I heard about the quarantine you got into with your sister.. I'm so sorry. One of the wardens was kind enough to give me your number! I didn't have much time previously due to my work.. but, now I have and I'm so thankful!"

"..Good god it's so nice hearing your voice again, (____)" he mumbled, smiling as tears prickled at his eyes. There were so many words that wanted to spill out of his mouth, but nothing came out due to his own self restraint.

"I'm going to get you out of there! I promise! You and your sister!" You yelped out, happiness laced into your voice. You were zeal about this, you were going to get him and his sister out of here. Or at least try.

"Wait- aren't you worried about the wardens??? They've been keeping us here!" He responded back, biting on his thumb.

"Eh?? Nah! I'm sure! The warden seemed to like me, I'm sure I can persuade him somehow." For some reason, this didn't sit right with him..

"..." He went radio silent, this feeling akin to foreboding surging through him with the sense of anger as well. But, he swallowed down his frustration and took some deep breaths.

"Andy- Andrew?.. you there?" You tried to fix your mistake. You heard his sister call him by that nickname once- so you know it's at least somewhat gotta be sentimental for him.

"..you can call me Andy" he slowly spoke up.

"Are you sure?.."

"I'm.. sure. Call me Andy." It almost sounded like a demand..

"..Alright, Andy."

He doesn't even let his own sister call him that anymore, but he lets you do it with free reign.. strange.

"Now, would you like to talk for a bit?.. or should I get straight to work with the pla-"

"Talk!.. please. I just.. I missed you. I missed listening to your voice, I missed just being with you.." he blurted out, cutting you off. He put a hand over his mouth in response, his eyes wide and filled with shame.

"..."

"..."

"...."

"I'm sorry- that probably sounded weird.." he spoke up after a long moment of silence.

"Nono! Don't apologize, I missed hearing your voice too, hun." You spoke sweetly to him, a smile he couldn't see plastered on your face.

"..Hun?" Saying the word made him feel this warm, bubbling sensation within his chest. It made him want to indulge in it more..

"I'm not gonna use Andy all the time, darling!" You giggled happily, and that just made something within his stomach churn and twist.. something that has been dormant for years finally stir.

It made his knees go weak, his mouth go slightly agape as he failed to make any words come out of his mouth for a while until you spoke.

"..Andy? Honey?"

"Oh- sorry just.. deep in thought.”

"Ah, I get that.. well anyways, what would you like to talk about?"

You two talked until the sun finally rose and you got sleepy.

"Night Andy, Hun!" He could hear you yawn.

"Night, (____).."

He then placed the phone back down, hanging up shortly after you did as he found himself already yearning and missing your voice.

But, he knows.. better.

He just can’t help it though.

..No matter, he’ll hopefully be able to see you soon as you said.

That would be wrong though.

Because guess what? That warden that was so kind to you was only there for your looks. He wanted you to have some.. “personal time” with you if you get my gist.

“No fucking way you creep!!” You yelped out, this man was about twice your age and asking you to have some personal time with you.

“C’mon, sweetheart!.. I promise I’ll make it worth your while” The warden spoke, a sickening smile on his face.

“No means no, pervert!! Now, let me see my friends, let me get them out of here!” The warden groaned at your response.

“Alright, look here sweet-cheeks. You aren’t gonna be able to save your friends and I shouldn’t even be helping you. So, you either let me have you and you can take your friends, or I kill you right here and now” the man gave you an ultimatum, causing your eyes to widen.

“I..” You almost bursted out into tears when the man moved his hands to your shoulders, lowering your shirt.

“Lemme take care of ya.” he hummed, pushing you against the table within the break room, tears pooling down your cheeks.

You then tried focusing on something else, noticing the fact he had a ring of keys on his belt..

The warden had a hand glide up your thigh, massaging the bundle of nerves there. You tensed, straining back any noises that would come out of your mouth.

“No need to hold back, sweetheart..” he pressed himself closer to you, this was your time to strike!

You punched the man in the face, causing him to stumble back. You fixed your clothes, jumping off the table, you stared at the man who was waddling around like an idiot. A huff escaped past your lips as grabbed the nearest blunt object and flung it at the man. It was a simple lamp, but it hit him real good in the head. Honestly, you felt powerful in that moment, finding the courage to continuously punching the man, letting out every last string of anger that you felt. It was basically free therapy! And, when you were done, he was no longer moving. You grabbed the keys before you marched off, now off to find Andy and his sister, Ashley!

It took you a bit, but after knocking on a few doors, you heard nothing but some shuffling.

“Andy!! Its me! (____)!!” You yelped out, taking out the ring of keys as you fumbled with them in your hands.

“..(____)!? You actually came!?!” He spoke up after hearing your voice, immediately rushed over to the door as he heard you unlock it, opening it for you, taking you by surprise.

“Of course, hun! I never break a promise.” You spoke more dulcetly, a smile upon your face as you looked up at him.

He’s.. grown taller than you.

He spent no time dawdling as he hugged you, pressing you close to him as he twirled you around.

“I’m proud of you for waiting this long. So proud.” You praised, causing Andrew to become flustered as he desperately tried hiding it.

You paused for a moment before you started giggling a bit.

“What.. whats so funny??” He asked

“Nothing. Just reminiscing of the old times.”

“..you’re talking like a grandma.”

You bursted out laughing, patting his back.

“Oh— really now? ‘Just be a good boy and be quiet!’ Is that better??” You were giggling, since you knew your words made any sense for some Grandma to say, but he wasn’t taking this as a joke. The way you called him a good boy..

It.. turned something on for him, craving for more practically.

“Okay I think thats enough mushy reunion stuff, mm?” You smiled sweetly at the boy as he pulled away from the hug, his face still slightly flushed.

“Yeah..” he internally cursed himself for almost stuttering.

“Where’s Ashley?..” you quietly asked.

From that moment, everything happened like some sort of descending spiral of madness. The thing with the demon and Ashley… killing the second warden, all of that fancy stuff. (being horribly mortified in the end.)

You had the both of them stay in the motel for a while until you could bring them into your home as you got them necessities; paying for them to continue staying, getting them new clothes, food, entertainment and others (not even knowing about their little hobby together.)

You’d visit once a week, much to Andrews begging for you to come more often, constant thanks as well from him.

“..I don’t think we can repay you ever for this.”

You always said it was fine, and his sister did too. She seemed more laid backed about the entire situation.

And, when you rushed in the middle of the night to their motel in your car to tell them the news that you finished up your work for their rooms and such, only throwing on a long overcoat, keeping on your nightclothes and throwing one some slippers.

..but they weren’t in there.

“PSSSTTT” the sound almost made you scream, but you turned to the cause of the noise.

“Ashley!” You smiled, not speaking above a whisper.

“Get over here!!!” You immediately rushed over to her without another question, taking her into an embrace.

“Woah- calm down, goody-two-shoes!” She grumbled, trying to get you to let go or at least loosen your arms that were tightly wrapped around her.

“You and Andrew can finally come over!!” You practically cried out, a bright smile on your face.

“..Where is Andrew..?” You questioned after surveying around, letting go of the embrace you tightly held Ashley in.

“Went to go and check on something.. don’t worry about it.”

“..Alright. I’ll wait here if you don’t mind.” You quietly spoke, standing beside Ashley as your hand subconsciously grabbed hers, intertwining them.

And Ashley didn’t say anything about it. Just to see how her brother would react, of course.

That didn’t go well, let me tell you.

He came back, noticing you, he was so excited like a puppy seeing their owner once more, but noticing that you were holding Ashleys hand..

..For some reason it made him pissed off.

“..(____), why don’t you hold my hand instead?”

You were already starting in his direction to tackle him into a hug, but Ashley pulled you back.

“Nah.. I think she’ll stay right here, holding my hand.”

“Ashley.”

“Yes, dear Andyyyy?”

“Let her go. Right now.”

“Mm, nah.” She chuckled seeing him get so riled up.

He flat up walked on over to you two, grabbed you by the waist, swiftly pulling you away from Ashley.

“Oh you jackass!!!”

But he didn’t care.

And then, you all heard another car..

Thats when everything else unfolded.

They killed that man..

And you witnessed it.

Then again though, he was a murderer as well..

..but why??

You were shaking like a leaf, catching Andy’s attention.

“Shh shh.. its okay. Theres no need to cry or worry, alright? It was in self-defense. I promise this won’t happen again.” He consoled you, hugging you closely as you nodded.

Ashley looked baffled though, one of her eyes slightly twitching.

..guess they’ll just have to not kill in front of you from now on.

Well, moving on from this..

You had made some fake ID’s for them (made by another friend of yours, of course) along with some birth certificates, you just wanted to help them get on their feet again.

That would.. slightly backfire.

No matter what, he became so obsessed with you, he started stalking you, watching you do anything around the house. When you’d turn to see if anyone was watching, no-one was there..

You brushed it off multiple times, but even when you were in the shower, or changing, you felt the same feeling. It was all.. unnerving. You hated it. You wanted it to stop.

But, it continued and continued, and it got to the point where you started asking Andrew if you could sleep with him for the night, to which he immediately accepted; surprising you.

You got into his bed, him pulling the covers over you despite the fact you already had a blanket with you.. but that was fine. You rested your head on his chest as he wrapped his arms around your lower back, pressing you closer to him.

And strangely, it seemed like all of the eyes that were previously watching you were gone. You could finally drift off to sleep, where Ashley would make fun of you both each time, but stopped suddenly after a bit..

But you shrugged it off as she was just bored of the joke now that you have cuddled with Andrew so many times now just for you to feel safer within your own home!

Little did you know that the person you were cuddling with was the one watching you all along..

His fingers threaded through your hair, humming ever so softly. He kissed the crown of your head, your forehead, your cheeks, and then eventually, your lips. You tasted sweet to him, sweet like nothing he’d ever tasted before in contrast to his usual taste of mint and cigarettes within his mouth.

He wanted more of it..

He then continued kissing your lips, now making out with your unconscious body, taking breaks in between to undress you from your nightclothes, underwear, and so forth.

In your sleep, you felt something.. swishing within your mouth. It was warm, tasting everything within your mouth almost, like it was trying to claim it!

You slowly awoke very sadly since you couldn’t get your beauty rest, trying to find the cause, just to see it was Andy. The person you were so close with. You instinctively pushed him away, or tried.

As much as you wanted to- you couldn’t hurt him. What would be everything you went for then? What would Ashley do?? You’d have to live with the guilt of possibly hurting one of your friends.

..is he even your friend anymore?

He took notice of that, opening his eyes instantaneously as he felt your touch. He pulled away for a moment, examining your expression.

The room was silent, the atmosphere was palpable as he turned to an emotionless face. He moved you closer to him.

“Andy!?” You yelped out as your body became tense.

“..Shit— shit, no, fuck, i’m so sorry. This is wrong-“ Andrew pushed himself away, getting up and threading his hands through his hair. His eyes were wide as he realized what he’d done.

“..Andrew, why??..”

“I’m sorry- that was disgusting- I’m sorry!..”

Your facial expression was bewildered, but you eventually just frowned and grabbed his arm (which was shaking.)

“Andrew, you should’ve asked me first so I could’ve consented. Especially if you have some sort of som—“

“Wait!.. how are you so calm?!” You really aren’t.

“..I’m not. But I would’ve just want some more information- some sort of talk about this entire situation before we could do anything.” Caressing his hand, you smiled softly, and he simply just stared at you for at least 5 seconds straight.

Consent talk?

Consent talk!!

He gave a long ass apology for his actions, immediately about to just get up and leave.

But you stopped him to talk further talked about the situation. You talked about what you really wanted.

And if you both were ready.

Even though all of this didn’t happen throughout one entire night, you planned everything out. What you two were going to do.

If you wanted a relationship.

Or just a situationship.

You both decided to test the waters first before deciding that.

You need to get out. Leave.

What are you doing?

Please, go.

He’ll kill you too.

You couldn’t fall asleep after everything that happened, so he ran a bath for you and him, washing you both.

After that though, he dressed you in some more comfortable clothes for the afternoon it seemed despite being early morning now.

He had you sit in his lap, smoking (trying to get you to smoke as well), tending to your wounds.

And that’s when Ashley came to you both later within the morning, groaning.

“Why was there so much noise in the night?.. could barely sleep..”

Safe to say, you gave a.. believable excuse

Wow- theres a lot here! But, I hope you all enjoyed!!

[shrewsburysworld]

Twisted Hearts | Jeon Jungkook | part 4

Y'all I am changing name of yandere popular guy Jungkook because the story is gonna get more twisted :)

Warning :- mature content, dark themes, dubious, non-consensual elements, delusional behaviour, Stockholm syndrome, physical and emotional elements, obsession and toxic relationship. The behaviour of characters is not something to emulate.

Summary :- Jungkook forces you into a twisted marriage, sparking a dangerous, obsessive love. As your resentment turns into dominance, you both become trapped in a dark, toxic relationship where love and control blur into one.

*This is my original work do not copyright ©*

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The cold walls of the mansion felt like they were closing in on you. Days blurred together as you tried to find a way out, a way to escape Jungkook's relentless obsession. But every attempt was met with a dead end. He was always one step ahead, his influence and power keeping you in place.

Jungkook’s presence was constant—overwhelming. He would check on you, bring you meals, and sit with you in silence, his eyes never leaving your face. At first, you refused to speak to him, hoping that if you ignored him long enough, he would let you go. But Jungkook was patient, disturbingly so.

One evening, after what felt like weeks of silence, you finally broke. “Why are you doing this?” you whispered, your voice trembling. “Why can’t you just let me go?”

Jungkook looked at you, his expression a mix of pain and determination. “Because I love you. I can’t live without you. You’re the only one who ever cared for me. Don’t you see? We’re meant to be together.”

You shook your head, tears welling up in your eyes. “This isn’t love, Jungkook. It’s madness. You can’t force someone to love you.”

He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the marble floor. “You don’t understand now, but you will,” he said, his voice hardening. “I’ll make you see that we belong together.”

As the days passed, Jungkook’s methods grew more drastic. He cut off all your communication with the outside world—no phone, no internet. You were completely isolated, with only him for company. Whenever you resisted or tried to argue, he would lock you in your room for hours, sometimes days, until you were too exhausted to fight back.

One night, you tried to escape. You waited until he was asleep, then quietly slipped out of bed and made your way to the front door. But as soon as you touched the doorknob, the alarms went off. Within seconds, Jungkook was there, his face a mask of anger and hurt.

“You’re trying to leave me again?” he demanded, grabbing your wrist with bruising force. “After everything I’ve done for you?”

You winced, trying to pull away, but his grip tightened. “I just want to be free, Jungkook,” you pleaded, tears streaming down your face. “Please, let me go.”

“Never,” he hissed. “You’re mine, and I’ll never let you go.”

He dragged you back to the bedroom, his mood swinging between anger and desperation. “Why can’t you just love me?” he muttered, more to himself than to you. “What do I have to do to make you stay? Please tell me, yn! Why can't you see my efforts. Am I that unlovable?!” Jungkook said weeping to you. Ofcourse you were there when he was on the ground surrounded by nothing but his own misery. The popular guy who had no one to turn back to when he needed help.

In that moment, something in you shifted. The fear and anger that had been consuming you began to morph into something else—something darker. You were trapped, completely at his mercy. And yet, a small part of you began to understand his desperation. He was lonely, broken in a way that mirrored your own emptiness. And as much as you hated to admit it, you began to feel a twisted connection to him.

The days continued to pass, but your resistance started to fade. You stopped trying to escape, stopped arguing. Instead, you began to talk to him, really talk. Jungkook noticed the change immediately. His touches became softer, his voice gentler. He started to open up to you, sharing stories from his childhood, his fears, and his insecurities.

One evening, after a particularly vulnerable conversation, he reached out and took your hand. “You’re the only one who understands me,” he said quietly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of rejection. “You’re the only one who’s ever made me feel like this.”

You looked at him, really looked at him, and for the first time, you saw past the obsession and the madness. You saw a man who was deeply, irreparably damaged—someone who had been failed by everyone around him. And in that moment, you felt something shift inside you again.

“I’m here, Jungkook,” you said softly, squeezing his hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

His eyes widened in disbelief, as if he couldn’t trust what he was hearing. “You… you mean that?”

You nodded, a small, resigned smile playing on your lips. “Yes, I do.”

From that night on, something between you changed. Jungkook was no longer just your captor; he became your protector, your only source of comfort in a world that had shrunk down to the walls of his mansion. You began to rely on him, crave his presence. And slowly, the lines between love and captivity blurred.

Jungkook noticed the change in you, and it only fueled his obsession. He showered you with gifts, whispered sweet words in your ear, and held you close every night, as if afraid you might disappear.

One night, as you lay in bed together, his arms wrapped around you, you turned to face him. “Jungkook,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes?” he replied, his breath warm against your skin.

“I… I think I like you,” you admitted, the words tasting foreign on your tongue.

His eyes widened, and for a moment, you thought you saw tears welling up. “You like me?” he echoed, his voice filled with disbelief and joy.

You nodded, your heart pounding in your chest. “Yes, I do.”

He pulled you closer, burying his face in your neck. “I knew you would,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. “I knew you’d see that we’re meant to be together.”

As he held you, you felt a strange sense of peace settle over you. The fear, the anger, the resentment—they all melted away, replaced by a deep, abiding connection to the man who had once been your captor. You were no longer trapped—you were his, and in some twisted way, that was exactly where you wanted to be.

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If you liked the story, do comment and reblog 🫶

Need smut in the next part??!

Twisted Hearts master list.

[cottoncandytomu]

Scream For Me Doll~ Ghostface!Ellie x F!Reader

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸🔪🩸

ITS FINALLY FUCKING HEREEEEEE!!!

(I do not own any of the photos! Just edited them, if they are yours and you want them removed lmk!!)

GHOSTFACE!ELLIE AI AUDIOS HERE!!

Before I even start-

18+ CONTENT MINORS AND AGELESS BLOGS DO NOT INTERACT. THIS FIC IS DEFINITELY NOT FOR MINORS!!

PLEASE READ ALL OF THE WARNINGS BEFORE YOU INDULGE IN THIS FIC!!

I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to finally finish this fic, I wanted to make it the best I could for you deranged Beauties~. I will say though, I only proofread half of it (I'll proofread the other half later - sorry I just wanted to post it already heeheheh~) so any mistakes I apologize they will be fixed in the future!

Those who asked to be tagged, if you're not interested in this fic in particular or want to be removed please lmk!! :}

WARNINGS!! PLEASE READ!!

This fic IS NOT for everyone, so please if it isn't your cup of tea...move on. Any type of hate sent my way I ask for it to not be anonymous so I can do you the justice and block you straight up. This fic contains the following: (If I forget to put a TW please let me know so I can add it on!!)

LOTS of dark themes, Filthy smut, Knife play, Blood play, Self harm (Ellie's behalf - slightly intentional - she cuts herself on the blade), Degradation (Very minor), Possessiveness, Stalking, Cursing, Deranged reader and Ellie, Mentions of murder/killing.

I think that's it - again if I missed anything please let me know. BUT that's about it folks, hope you Beauties~ enjoy!! (7839 Words)

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The sound of breathing was the only thing to be heard, Ellie’s warm breath bouncing off the flesh of the mask and back into her own. She learned very quickly how to stay quiet in situations like these. Her robe almost touched the floor, flowing right along with her movements. The sun had set hours before, a warm yellow moon took its place. Darkness cascades over the town, it was during these hours where she thrived the most. The shadows made for her stalk within the night, hiding all of her secrets in its shroud. She slowly creeps towards your window, forever thankful that your room was located on the first floor. 

A lot of her nights were spent like this. Reveling in her recent victims over the weeks to then come and celebrate by watching you at your most vulnerable. You weren’t on her hit list, far from it actually. Her obsession for you was different, not one of bloodlust. Although she’d love to see the deep velvet color of your blood drip down your stomach. The tip of her blade digging into your skin, not too hard, not too soft, but enough to pierce the skin. She’d imagine rubbing her gloved thumb across the liquid, smearing it towards your hip bone. Where she’d then grip your waist, squeezing the soft flesh in her palm. 

Her true bloodlust was for the imbeciles who fell into her traps, never clever enough to understand the gravity of the situation they’ve put themselves in. What genius would walk through an alleyway alone after a night of drinking? Or answer a phone call in the deep hours of the night? Only idiots would and Ellie hated the idiots of the world. The ones who deserved to be silenced by her blade, one less ignorant human on this planet. She saw the evils she committed as an act of justice. Just what society needed, one less idiot to exist. But fuck there were so many. That’s why she enjoyed you the most. You weren’t like them. 

The way you were always aware of your surroundings, keeping up on the latest murders of the month. Those murders being her own work of course. She saw the way your eyes lit up at the idea of figuring out who the infamous Ghostface was. You were determined, it was cute in your own way. Ellie was always one step ahead though, she knew about your obsession with the slasher. Being your close friend was her advantage to the game. It was her fun version of tag, except for the fact that you were unaware you were playing it with her. Coming so close to touching her, the tips of your fingers stretched out wide but she was able to run and hide. You having to start all over again just when you were so close. She loved when you got close. 

She’d listen to all the theories you’d come up with about who Ghostface could be. You’ve gotten close a few times, even if it was jokingly pointing the finger at her. You’d laugh off the idea of Ellie being Ghostface. It’s too hard to believe your childhood friend who you’ve spent every waking moment with to be the one. You told her she didn’t have the guts to commit such acts, too blinded by the nurturing friendship the two of you shared. As clever as you were, in which Ellie respected, you always missed that one piece. 

There was a moment that she did want to tell you, to scream it off the rooftops or to stand outside your house with it written in bold letters. Hey, it’s me! I’m Ghostface! Surprised huh? But she knew that’d be too risky, as much as she trusts you with her life she doesn’t fully know if you’d be able to keep this under the wraps. Would you run away screaming, telling the first officer you see? Or is there that slight chance that you’d be alright with it… 

This was another fantasy Ellie loved to live in. You overjoyed with the fact that she was the one. Running up to her and caressing her mask, blood staining the tips of your fingers just moments after her fresh kill. But she knew better. Out of all the secrets you two shared, this was the only one she kept to herself. 

Little did she know you had secrets of your own. Your obsession with the slasher didn’t just end at finding out who it was. You wanted them for yourself. You wanted to trace their mask with your fingers, dragging them down the oversized robe and over to their gloved hand. You dreamt of grabbing that hand that yielded the knife. Tracing it up your chest to your delicate throat. To feel the cool blade against your skin would welcome heat that would pool between your thighs. You wanted them to use you how they wanted, bending at their will, doing whatever for them. It was a fucked up fantasy you couldn’t stop. But did you truly want it to stop? 

You had to bite your tongue every time you talked to Ellie about them. She was intrigued with your theories, always ready to listen in on the newest piece of evidence you brought up. But you didn’t want to face the judgment of her words when you told her the main reason you wanted to see what was behind the mask. You imagined her reaction once. You didn’t imagine it again after that. 

As she peers in she feels her chest swell up. It never felt any different for her, you always made her feel a certain way. Especially during these times. When she had the mask on, it changed her. She became a different person, she felt free. She felt like her true self. It was funny in a way, usually people put on a mask to hide their identity. But it wasn’t the same for Ellie, it brought out the worst in her. She loved every second of it. 

You were fast asleep in your bed, legs in a tangled mess with your blankets. Your brows were furrowed, tightly knit together. She was curious as to what you were dreaming about. Was it a nightmare? Troubles from something that happened earlier in the day? It took everything in her to not climb in through your window, coming close to you to smoothen out the lines between your brows. Her eyes trailed down to your lips, taking in how soft they looked. How badly she wanted to glide her gloved fingers across them. Just to hook them into the side of your mouth and pull back the flesh, making you smile like the joker. 

Her nightly ritual would soon come to an end. Much to her disappointment she had to go back to being the regular old Ellie. The Ellie no one suspected was Ghostface. She took in your features one last time before descending back into the night, the darkness consuming her once again. 

Finding the abandoned shed by her house she shed herself of her shroud and mask, putting them away in her pack. She returned home shortly after, unlocking her door with her key. She couldn't wait to also get some rest. Unbothered to do anything else besides sleep she threw her pack across the room. Flopping into the bed it didn’t take long for her to be whisked away into lust filled dreams of your face. 

The next morning came in a hurry. Ellie woke up in a sweat, the stuffy heat of the summer causing her clothes to stick to her skin. It didn’t help that she fell asleep with her jeans and t-shirt on, too tired the night before to change into something more comfortable. Her hand reaches over on her nightstand, grabbing her phone she checks the time, 11 a.m. It wouldn’t be long until you’re knocking at the door, you both had previously made plans to go out today. Finally having a matching day off you didn’t want to waste it away, even with the stupid curfew in place. Jackson didn’t have much to do but you both made it work. Your favorite spot was going deep into the forest, dangerous yes, but you enjoyed the quiet serene scene. The only sounds being what nature wanted to sing to you that day. 

Today would probably be one of those forest days. The overwhelming buzz of fear that clouded the skies of Jackson was starting to be too much for you to handle. You wanted, no needed, a mini escape from it all. And who better to escape all of it with none other than your loyal friend. She understood how you felt, how sick of the people you were. She understood it all too well. 

Ellie placed the phone back down on the nightstand, rubbing her eyes as she sat herself up. Letting out a sigh she climbs out of bed and goes to get ready for the day. It doesn’t take long until you’re knocking at her door. Toothbrush in her hand she rushes over to let you in. Your soft smile sends flutters to her stomach, precious as always. She sends a smile back your way, standing off to the side to let you in. You were wearing a regular t-shirt and shorts that hugged your thighs just right, she couldn’t help her eyes from checking you out. After you walk in she closes the door and returns to the bathroom to finish getting ready. 

You walk over to the door to the bathroom, leaning against the frame watching her finish up. You gave her a knowing look and she knew what would come out of your mouth before you even said it.

“New evidence?” She asks. 

Your grin widens, “Maybe…”

“Spill, now.” 

This happened often, you’d have some new “gossip” about the killer from your unresting research. While Ellie would sit and listen, wanting to know how close you’ve gotten this time. 

“So you remember a week ago when that random man was murdered?” 

Ellie pretends to think about it for a second. She knew exactly who you were referring to, he was a tough one. His extreme persistence to survive almost caused him to escape her grasp, almost. She nods at you. 

“Well apparently he put up a fight.” 

Ellie’s face cringed, thinking back on the memory. Her expression quickly changed to a confused one, now wondering how you knew about his persistence. 

“I know I know, the only reason I found this out is because of someone sharing some info on Reddit.” She waits for you to continue on. “So their Dad is a cop blah blah, shit no one cares for. But because of this he gets inside info. So get this, they found a piece of the handle to the blade Ghostface used to kill him. There’s some overly complicated science as to how they know he struggled. But the piece of it gives them a slight advantage on what weapon the killer uses. It’s honestly crazy how the knife broke. It’s said that the Buck 120 is very durable, some luck huh?” 

Fuck-

Ellie knew her mistake but didn’t think it would be found so soon. By the time she realized the piece had fallen off it had already been too late. That night she was consumed with the need to see you. Specially after that persistent fuck gave her such a hard time. The stress of it all ate her alive, for once she feared she would be discovered if he was able to escape her grasp. Luckily with one hard strike she was able to finally take him down. Enraged after the fact she kept up the hard strikes at his weak skin. Definitely a blood bath, all the emotions clouded her mind. She didn’t realize that her harsh slashes may be the one thing to bring her demise. When she saw you that night all the stress seemed to disappear. She returned home that night, dread still heavy on her head. Seeing you truly did help her but soon as she left you it all came back. The next morning was when she saw the lost piece in her handle. Cursing herself at her stupidity, it was too late. She never goes back to a kill, no matter how satisfying or difficult. It was too risky, the bodies were found usually a day or so after she ended them. 

Ellie snapped out of her thoughts at the sound of your voice. “Earth to Ellie, you there?” 

She rinses her toothbrush and spits out the paste in her mouth to answer you. 

“Yeah.” She laughs it off, “Sorry. Just thinkin’ about what you said.”

You tuck in your lips nodding slowly at her words. “It’s crazy to think about isn’t it? I’ll find out who it is eventually I know it.” 

“Oh you do now?” Ellie forgets about her previous thoughts. More interested in your words instead. 

“Mhm~ You know how close I’ve gotten.” 

“I also know how many times it’s slipped from you too.” 

“Whatever, I don’t wanna hear this shit talk when I find out who it is. I’ll prove everyone wrong.” 

Sure you will. Ellie thinks, “I’m gonna talk shit regardless. You know this.” 

You laugh at her words, “You’re right. Anyways hurry up, I wanna be out as long as I can before curfew.” 

Ellie finishes up what she has to, not wanting to keep you waiting. As she gets her things together you go to sit on the couch, patiently waiting. After she’s done you both head for the front door. Before you can leave Ellie mutters a hold on forgetting one last thing. She goes back into her room before descending out with her guitar case in hand. You smile warmly at her. You always loved when she would bring her guitar. Playing the tunes you were never tired of hearing. You opened the door for her letting her exit with her case. Following her out you both took off to the calming forest. Letting go of all the troubles that plagued your minds. 

After a few hours you and Ellie made it back to her house. The time spent in nature was a refresher you both needed. Similar reasons neither of you were aware of. The two of you didn’t eat the whole day so you both agreed to get food once settled in Ellie’s home. Not wanting the night with you to end Ellie made sure to invite you over after. She knew she’d be around you. Regardless if you stayed or not. She could either have you here or have you through your window. As much as she did enjoy the latter, she wanted to be around you as long as you’d allow. Even if it was when she was regular Ellie. 

The both of you settled down onto the couch. Ellie loaded a game up to pass the time, knowing you’d enjoy watching her play. Ellie made you comfortable no matter the situation, being in her presence made you feel such a relief. A relief no one could provide in the same way that she can. You were scrolling through restaurants in the area on your phone. Stretched out sideways along the couch. Your back against the armrest and your legs over Ellie’s as she sat regularly. Her arms were resting on your lower thighs, fingers pressing away at the buttons. She told you to pick what you wanted, not caring what you’d order. She’d eat whatever you put in front of her anyway. You didn’t want anything too crazy, just something comforting and simple. Which is why you decided on pizza, can’t get more simple than that. 

“I’m gonna get us some pizza.” You look up at Ellie from your phone.

Her eyes were trained on the screen, “Sounds good to me.” She shrugged slightly, replying. 

“Okay I’ll get us a large and a drink as well.” 

Ellie throws a quick glance in your direction, “My card should be in my pack in the room.” 

“I can just buy it Ellie…” 

“Fuck no.” When she looks back at you, this time she doesn’t break eye contact, “I invited you over to eat so I pay for it, yeah?” 

You didn’t bother to argue back with her, you’d lose in the end. You always did. You mumbled alright and she lifted up her arms so you could slip off the couch. The warmth of your legs were gone, causing her to shiver from the cool feeling of her air conditioner. 

You walked over into her room searching around for her pack. Your eyes scan the room when they finally land on it thrown over into the corner. You walk over kneeling down to open it up, digging through it you suddenly feel a sharp sting on your finger. Pulling your hand back from the pack with an ow you look hold your hand to see blood dripping from your middle finger. 

“What the fuck?” You mumble. 

Instead of making the mistake to dig around unaware again you slowly pull open the sides of the pack, opening it up to peek at what's inside. Your brows furrow at the black cloth harshly shoved in it. Slowly pulling it out to examine it an object flops to the floor. Snapping your head down your eyes widen, You can feel the blood draining from your face. A sharp flutter fills your stomach, it was a mask. But not any mask, a Ghostface mask. Picking it up with your free hand to examine it you now notice the red splatters, it stands out from the contrast of the bold white mask. Is that…blood? You think to yourself, it can’t be. This is a joke, there's no way she’s Ghostface. You smirk to yourself, was she really trying to fuck with you like this? She’s done stupid jokes before but never went as far as buying the costume to trick you. Some tricks, huh. Nice try Ellie. 

Did she really think you were that naive? You were going to get up and confront her when the sting of your finger got your attention again. You almost forgot about the cut, you then realized that nothing in your hands could’ve sliced you like that. Don’t tell me she bought a knife too, oh Ellie-. You reached into the pack again, carefully this time knowing your chances of getting cut again were high. You couldn’t help the laugh that escaped your throat when you saw the light shine off the blade, she really outdid herself this time. You grasp the handle and bring it out from the bag, it was the exact kind of knife Ghostface used. The knife had the smeared red on the blade as well. 

One part of you couldn’t believe the lengths she’s gone this time to fuck with your “investigation.” But the other part of you couldn’t help but shiver at the thought of her going this far. She didn’t truly know what these things did to you. If it was her, which was a long shot, you wondered how much easier everything would be. Not having to worry about who was behind the mask, not that you really cared, but it was something that crossed your mind. What if it was someone you couldn’t stand, would you be able to still keep up that fantasy of them? Could you still keep it up if it was Ellie? Your feelings for Ellie were that of a roller coaster. In friendship terms everything was smooth sailing, there’s no one else on the planet you could trust your life with more. But when it came to the topic of it being more than a friendship, that was a different story. You can’t say you never had feelings for her, you have. You just pushed them down when you realized how badly it could ruin everything. Plus you had no idea, doubted even, that she liked you the same. So you buried your own feelings deep inside, not daring to let them out again. Sometimes though she’d do things that made you shiver. That would cause those feelings to bubble over again, reaching for nothing but the disappointment you’d give them when you continued to shove them under again. 

Although, to know that she did this all for you made those feelings bubble over again. Could she have a clue about your true intentions of wanting who was behind that mask? Is that why she went this far? To make you believe it? To fall for her instead of the true Ghostface? No, she wouldn’t, it’s just a dumb prank. 

You laughed at your thoughts, going the extra mile once again, your delusions would constantly take control when the masked killer was involved. You twirl the knife in your hands one last time before you decide to put it down. As you check it for the last time your fingers smooth over something rough on the handle. Curious, you look at what the disturbed surface could be. 

As you study the handle your heart drops. No, no, no- this can’t be happening, you think. You can feel the anxiety swell up in your chest. You forget how to breathe, your thoughts racing a million miles a minute. All of the countless hours you spent searching, all of the sleepless nights you’ve had. The endless amount of research you would study, day after day. Stuck scrolling on your computer not resting until you get so close to finding out who it could be. The theories of all the different people you had, you even bought a cork board to help your search. You pulled some crazy shit you kept to yourself to find out where or who they could be. Putting yourself in danger in hopes that you’ll be the slasher's “next prey.” 

All of this for what? For it to be your best friend this whole time. The one person you were so sure of it not being. Fuck you felt so stupid. You grew up with her, you knew her better than you knew yourself. You felt pride in knowing that she would never be capable of such a thing, but she was. And here you are, staring at the handle with the piece of it missing that was just discovered by the authorities. As much as you wanted to deny it you couldn’t. Why did you want to deny it? 

In a way this makes everything easier, your mind travels back to your earlier thoughts. The thoughts of what if Ellie was the killer. But why didn’t she kill you yet? If no one was safe from her slashes then why were you? Question after question filled your head, trying to piece all the evidence together to figure out just what you have missed. While in deep thought you heard a loud thud. Locking in place you slowly turned your head to the sound. 

Ellie stood by the door, frozen. The controller that was once in her hand now faced upside down on the floor. She was wondering why it was taking you so long to grab your wallet. She knew it was in her room, in some pack that she threw on the floor yesterday. She hasn't touched it since. It wasn’t until she started thinking about it that she felt the color drain from her face. She was so exhausted yesterday that she forgot to put her Ghostface pack in the hiding spot she usually does. It slipped from her mind until this moment. Now she’s paying the consequences, walking in on you holding her knife. The very knife you just talked about hours earlier. The single piece of evidence that would be 100% proof of Ellie being Ghostface. 

She didn’t know what to do or what to say. Scared that any wrong move would result in your panic, your screams filling the air as you ran for the door. But you didn’t. You didn’t move an inch, holding the knife in your hand you stared back at her. All of this time it was her, you didn’t want to admit it but you felt a sense of relief. You did it, you found out who Ghostface was. 

You opened your mouth, trying to get something out, anything out but you couldn’t. Caught like a deer in headlights you thought about your next move. As you thought about it, so did Ellie. You weren’t supposed to find out, even if you did she didn’t want it to be this way. She wanted it on her terms, if she were to ever tell you anyway. 

As flustered as she was she managed to speak first, “Seems like all that research paid off huh?” She chuckles. 

Leave it to Ellie to make light of a situation like this, you were used to it though. She always jokes around when shit hit the fan, it was one of the many things you loved about her. You just weren’t so sure if this time was the right time for it. You looked down at the knife again, your fingers gliding against the abrasion.

“It was you the whole time…” Ellie’s eyes widened at your voice, “I busted my ass on research and it was right in front of me the whole time.” 

“Surprise…?”  

You let out a dry laugh at her response, how could you be so fucking stupid. She goes to open her mouth to speak again but you beat her to it. 

“Do you know why I really wanted to find out who Ghostface was?” 

Fuck it. It was out in the open so you might as well be honest. You didn’t know where this confidence came from but after finding out who a serial killer was you realized you only really have two options. She would let you go, which you think is unlikely or she would have to end it right here right now. Killing you to keep the risk of her being found out by the public. You didn’t think she was capable of killing you, you were her childhood best friend after all. 

She stays quiet, letting you continue. You figured you had nothing to lose now, why not let it all out in the open. 

“Finding out who was behind the mask really isn’t all that important to me. Honestly I could give less of a fuck who’s behind it. I just want them for myself. My fucked up fantasy of being with the slasher is all that I’ve been craving.” You sigh, your words becoming just a whisper. “It’s sick… I know.” 

Did Ellie just hear you correctly? Are her fantasies becoming reality right before her eyes? All those nights at your window, watching you, craving you. You writhing under her as she pleased you in the one thing that made her feel like her true self. She watched as your face fell in despair, you were ashamed. There’s no need to be ashamed. 

She wasn’t aware that she said her thoughts aloud, not realizing it until you lifted up your head. 

You looked at her with a shocked expression, “You don’t think so?” 

“How could I?” She starts, “You know what I do. I have no room to judge anyone, plus I’ve wanted nothing more than this.” 

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion, did you hear her correctly? 

She continues on, “I’ve been dreaming about this moment forever. I wanted to tell you so many times but I didn’t know how. Your reaction was something I was scared of the most. But now that I know you want this, I’m ready to take the next step.” 

“What is the next step exactly?” You ask. 

Ellie’s soft expression changes in an instant, a smirk adorning her lips. 

“I make you mine.” 

You felt a slight pang of fear but not too much. Her words catered to your sick mind, they went straight to your core. She took slow steps towards you, as to test the waters on how you would react. You didn’t move an inch, letting her slowly make her way towards you. The grasp you had on the knife tightened in anticipation. When she came close enough she reached out to your hands, loosening your grasp from the knife she took it from you. Her eyes leave yours to study the object in her hands, the object she knew all too well. Her eyes darken as she grasps the handle, pointing the tip of the blade towards you now. The smirk never leaves her lips when she drags the tip of the blade lightly up your throat, stopping to tilt your chin up towards her. 

“You want to be mine right?” She asks. 

You bite your lip, “Only if you’ll allow it.” 

It was at this moment that you saw the true change in her eyes. The Ellie you once knew, the Ellie you grew up with wasn’t the Ellie in front of you now. This Ellie was different…darker…possessive. You wanted to know this version of her more than anything, the true her behind the mask. The person you dreamt of having for so long was finally yours and you were hers. It was at this moment that you knew there was no going back, the two of you now becoming one in her secret. You’d do anything for her, be anything for her. She felt the same, all those nights she watched you at your window. She’d get rid of anyone who tried to hurt you in any way, she’d protect you from any danger that dared to wander around you. God forbid she catches the ones that hurt you, they’d regret their last moments. 

Her eyes flickered back towards yours, keeping eye contact for just a moment before trailing around your face. They stop at your lips, how badly she’s wanted to kiss the plush skin for so long. She wastes no time and throws her knife to the side. Grabbing at the sides of your face she roughly presses her lips to yours. Your hands grasp at her shirt, kissing her back with just as much fervor. The kiss was far from innocent, teeth clashing and spit mixing, just how she liked it. She took your bottom lip in her teeth, pulling at the flesh and letting it flick back in place. Her lips lock back onto yours, you pull her closer by her shirt, needing to get as close as possible. 

She pulls back after a few seconds, you let out a whimper at the loss. Your eyes filled with desperation as you stared up at her. She coos at the sight, her thumb swiping the spit across your bottom lip. 

She licks her lips, “You gonna let me have you tonight?” 

You enthusiastically nod your head, “Y-yes.” You’re still shaken up by the sloppy kisses you two just shared. 

“Yeah? Gonna let me try something out on ya?” 

You continued to nod your head, you didn’t care what she did to you. You’d give her whatever she wanted if she asked, she knew this. Yet she still wants to make sure you’re okay with it. She then took your hands in hers, pulling you to stand up along with her, she then led you to the bed. She pushed you back onto it, you flopped onto the mattress waiting for her next move. She admired you for a moment before walking back by her pack, she grabbed the mask off the floor and slipped it on. 

“You want me to fuck you in this mask hm?” She asks. Not giving you time to reply she continues, “How much did you dream about this?” 

Your words were stuck in your throat, it was all too much but it was so fucking good. You had envisioned how your first night with Ghostface would play out. Staring into their mask, their fingers buried in you, giving you the utmost pleasure you craved. But this? This was better than anything you could have imagined. Especially when it was with the one woman you loved more than anything. 

She picked up her knife, twirling it in her hands. 

“I would use this but that persistent fucker had to ruin it for me.” She shook her head, the loose fabric at the ends swayed in the air. “Good thing I got another.” 

She walks over to her closet, digging around until she pulls out another Buck 120. She flips it over, checking out the shining blade and admiring it. She loved nothing more than her ol��� reliable knife. 

“Got this one as a back up, y'know just in case incidents like before happened. A slasher must always be prepared~” 

Her head looks up, the soulless black eyes staring into yours. You can hear the teasing tone in her voice when she talks to you. She’s well aware she has you wrapped around her finger, ready to do whatever she pleases. 

She stalks towards you, “I’m gonna fuck you with this knife now~.” Her hold on the knife now tighter, “Don’t worry baby it’s clean, haven’t killed anyone with this one…yet.” 

Your eyes widened, her words went straight to your core. You couldn’t help the little fidgets your body made as she slowly made her way towards you. You couldn’t see because of the mask but her eyes were trained on your thighs that clenched together in anticipation. You couldn’t help but rub them together, needing some sort of friction to relieve the heat building up between them. 

You couldn’t help but ask, “Which side?”

Ellie groaned at your question, “Fuck baby~ you want the blade? Are you that psycho for me?” 

You didn’t particularly want to be mutilated tonight, even though somewhere deep down in your fucked up brain the thought was there, you just wanted to make sure Ellie was on the same page. 

“Just curious…” You reply. 

She now stood in front of you, knife in her right hand. Her free hand comes up to rest on your knee, pushing it to the side to open your legs up for her. You can hear her heavy breaths through the mask. 

“As much as I wanna see you bleed, I don’t want it that way. That’s what your thighs are for.” 

Her hand strokes down your thigh, stopping midway to squeeze at the flesh. She brings her knife up to your skin, slicing it lightly enough to draw a tiny bit of blood. She flicks up the knife, her skills on display as she scoops the blood onto the blade, bringing it up to her mask and smearing it on the white rubber. She drags the knife down to the tip of the chin, tapping it against it a few times, as if in thought of what her next move is. You whimper at the sting of the cut, little droplets still flowing from it. She reaches up to smear the blood across your thigh, taking her time watching the way the red liquid spreads. 

“I’ve wanted to see you bleed for me so bad. S’Better than I ever imagined.” 

You bite your lip, holding back your whimpers as you wait impatiently for her next move. You wanted her to do something, to do anything to relieve the ache you felt. She turns the knife around in her hand, the grip pointing towards you. 

“I’m gonna fuck you with the handle instead. That way every time I slash someone I have a memory of you with me. It’ll be the only thing I’ll think about with my victims.” 

Her words flooded through your veins, firing up every cell in your body. You didn’t know she had such a way with her words, if she kept going you’d probably climax just from them alone. As much as her words had an effect on you, you wanted her to go along with her promise. 

“Please…just fuck me already Ellie.” You beg.

“Patience Doll~ You out of everyone should know I like to take my sweet time when it comes to my victims. But since you said please, I’ll give you what you want.” 

She sets the knife down next to you on the bed, her hands grip at the waistband of your shorts pulling them down. You were soaked, the fabric of your panties so wet that you could see the outline of your pussy. 

“Mmh so wet for me, all I did was speak to you and draw a little blood.” Her thumb presses into your slit, pushing against your juices. 

Her fingers hook into your panties pulling out the fabric, she then grabs her knife and cuts off your panties. You breath hitches at how close the blade was to your core, any closer and she would’ve cut you. Making you bleed for the second time that night. She chuckles at your reaction then shoves the panties into her back pocket, saving them for later. 

She pushes up your thigh, opening you up for her and lines up the knife handle to your entrance. She teases you, gliding the end of it up and down your slit collecting up your juices to lube up the knife. 

“You ready Doll?” She asks. 

You whisper out a yes as she slowly slides the handle into your pussy, watching you grip onto it. You can feel her push back on your thigh more, making you stretch so she can get a nice view of you. Even though it was happening in front of her she couldn’t believe you were sprawled out before her like this. She’d catch herself staring at her knife imagining how it would look against your skin, how much she craved to slide it through your folds. Now that she was here it was almost too much, but she didn’t let her excitement take control. She wanted to fully immerse herself in this experience, taking all of you in. From the scrunches of your brows to the curling of your toes, she wanted to see all of you. 

She carefully dragged out the knife, her hand delicately holding the blade. She pushes the handle in and out of you, setting a slow steady rhythm. You writhe under her touch, not being able to hold back your moans anymore, the cool handle adding to the pleasure. You grab onto her wrist, holding her tight. You look up at her mask and she catches your movements tilting up her head. You’re staring hard enough to see her eyes through the meshed fabric, seeing the darkness behind them. She’s wanted this just as much as you did and you’re so glad it’s her that’s giving you this much pleasure. As good as it felt you wanted more, the slow pace was killing you. In a way you felt like she was holding back, still too afraid to lose herself, scared that she might hurt you. 

“Ellie…” You moan out, she twists the knife slightly muttering a yes. 

“Please don’t hold back.” Her movements stop and you whine at her, “I want you to let yourself go, let Ghostface come out.” 

Ellie’s hand quivered at your words, were you sure? Once she’s in that mindset she’s gone, she doesn't wanna risk too much. Although her dark thoughts were always in the back of her mind, how badly she wanted to drill her knife into you and watch you squirm at her force. 

“Baby, are you sure? I don’t know if I’ll be able to control myself.” 

You loved when she called you that, “Yes, I’m sure. I want it this way, I’m begging you~.” 

You gave her wrist a reassuring squeeze and that was all she needed before the light in her switched. The Ellie you grew up with, knowing better than anyone is not the Ellie that’s in front of you now. That confirmation from you was all she needed to let her true side take control. It happened so fast you didn’t know how to react, Ellie had grabbed you and flipped you over. Making sure your ass was up in the air, almost hanging off the edge of the bed. You braced yourself on your hands, an oof coming out of your lips when she pushed your face down into the mattress. 

You felt a harsh smack on your ass, you moaned at the sting it left behind. She kneads the flesh after, spreading you open and admiring you from behind. Without second thought she reaches down to grab the knife, this time firmly grabbing it by the blade as she plunges the handle inside you once again. She wastes no time fucking you hard and fast, her knuckles white from how hard she holds onto the blade. 

“F-fuck Ellie!” You gasp out. 

You’re in ecstasy, loving the way her demeanor changed. She loses herself in you, focused on the handle pushing in and out of you, how your juices cover the handle and drip down the blade onto her hand. 

“You like that Doll? You’re taking this knife so well~ M’so proud of you.” 

Your moans grow louder by the second, you’re not able to hold back anymore, not that Ellie wants you to anyway. You grip the bed sheets tight, your face repeatedly pushing into the mattress at her relentless force. You knew she was strong but fuck not like this. You were never really on the receiving end of her strength to truly know but now that you were you could see why no one stood a chance against her. She slaps at your ass again before she brings her free hand down to rub circles against your clit causing you to cry out. If she kept fucking you this way it wouldn’t take long for you to reach your high. 

“Shit-” You heard her whisper. 

You whip your head to the side to look at her. You can see her head tilt up to look back at you, she suddenly took her hand off your clit to reach up and tear off her mask. Her hair was a mess, tangled and stuck to her face in other spots from her sweat. Her eyes were blown wide, a harsh darkness to them you’ve never seen before and her lips. Her lips were red and plush from how much she bit them at the sight of you. You were a masterpiece to her, this was all she ever wanted. When she pushed her hair out of the way you noticed the blood that smeared along her forehead. She saw your eyes on her hand and gave you a lopsided smile, her hand going back down to rub at your clit once more. 

“Fuckin’ you so hard I cut myself.” She laughs darkly, “You don’t mind right?” 

Well fuck-

Your eyebrows scrunched together at her words, “No!” You moaned. “Don’t mind.” 

You could barely form sentences from how good she was making you feel, she knew this and she reveled in that fact. A cocky smirk on her lips as her eyes watched the way you squirmed and stuttered under her. She could give less of a fuck that she’s bleeding, your pleasure being the only thing that matters. It didn’t take much longer for you to feel the build up in the pit of your stomach, you were close. 

“Ellie I’m so close, please don’t stop~”

“Don’t plan on it Doll~” Ellie replies, speeding up her movements, if that were even possible. 

You bury your face into the mattress but then you feel a harsh smack to your clit. 

“I wanna hear your moans Sweetheart, don’t hide them from me now.” 

You nod your head rapidly, tears are starting to form in your eyes from all the pleasure you’re experiencing. Who would’ve thought you’d be right here, experiencing the one thing you wanted the most, you never thought your day would end up like this. You’re thankful nonetheless, this is exactly what you wanted and you wouldn’t want anyone else doing it to you. 

It didn’t take long until you reached your high. 

“Ahh~ I’m cumming!” 

Your back arched more, pulling at the sheets so hard they come undone from the edges. Ellie doesn’t slow down her movements either, ignoring the pain in her hand she keeps sliding the knife in and out of you. She watched as your juices flowed down onto the blade and her hand, mixing in with her blood. It made her moan out loud, a sight she’d never forget. 

“Mmm cum for me Doll, just like that. I wanna see your juices on my blade.” 

She helps you ride out your orgasm and your legs start to tremble. She chuckles at the state you’re in and slowly pulls the blade out of your pussy, watching your sticky juice strings stick to the handle. You watch her bring up the knife to her lips, sucking your juices off the handle, you whimper at her actions. When she’s done she throws the knife to the floor, her hands back onto you she spreads her blood up your thigh and onto your ass cheek as she gives you one last squeeze. You’re panting as you turn yourself over to lay on your back, she helps you lie down with a dark smile. She loves how she got you to this point, as much as she’d like to do it again she decides to save it for another night. 

She reaches over to give your hand a quick squeeze saying she’ll be right back as she walks over to her bathroom. After a few moments she comes back with a wet towel, a cloth is tied around her hand to stop the blood from flowing. She walks over to you and wipes away all the blood and cum off your body, giving soothing strokes to your skin afterwards. 

“So…” Ellie starts, “You gonna turn me in?” 

You can’t help the snort that comes out of your throat, “Fuck off.” 

“Is that a no, or?” She questions a knowing smile on her lips. 

“I let you fuck me with your knife, do you think I’m gonna turn you in?” 

She laughs at your response, “Just fuckin’ with ya.” 

She climbs into the bed lying next to you, throwing the towel onto the floor, she faces you and strokes your cheek with the back of her knuckles. You look over at her with tired eyes and a warm smile, she really does switch up fast. 

The two of you wrap up in each other's arms for the rest of the night. You ask all about her time as Ghostface, wanting to know every gory detail and she tells you it all. After a few hours of chatting you both lay in silence, content in each others presence. 

Ellie speaks up first, “So…about that pizza?”

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RAVIOLIII!! I hope you all enjoyed my fic!! I thank you all for reading my content! I have more on the way but I will be taking a small break to work on my drag projects I got going on!! As always any feedback is appreciated as I always want to level up my writing. Thank you all for being patient with me!! You Beauties~ have a wonderful day/night!!

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YOU'RE AN ANGEL, I'M A DOG | simon 'ghost' riley x reader

05 — i'll meet the judgement by the hounds.

chapter summary — a fool and a coward, that's the realisation you had come to.

tags / cw — no smut, fluff, a bit domestic honestly, basically reader's drunk and simon takes care of you, bittersweet, simon opens up... a bit, angst, suicidal thoughts, very subtle religious references if they even count as one, simon's in denial and reader is on the verge of losing it all. [4k words]

masterlist | ao3 | prev | next

Simon had come to the conclusion that you were a snake, and your love was your poison. Maybe he really was a coward for being afraid to let your venom drown into his veins.

“Remind me to never take you out for drinking again.”

If it weren’t for Simon holding you carefully against him and walking through the street, you’d surely have collapsed on the ground all drunk and worse, thrown up by now.

It was a little mistake. One drink became two, and then three. You had forgotten about your tolerance, and here you were now. It’s all because of Simon. That’s what your excuse was, blaming it all on him. Which was true in all honesty, you had gotten too excited about this little hangout.

“You’ll never go out with me again?” Completely mishearing his words, you looked up at him with wide eyes, tears already approaching. Yeah, you were completely drunk. Simon froze, his heart tearing at the sight of your incoming tears, even if they were just due to your emotions being all over the place now. Emotions that had always been there, hidden deep within.

His first instinct was to ignore your words and just keep walking, his heart begging for him to comfort you. But again, how does a killer comfort an angel? How would the moon comfort the ocean, while being so far away?

“I didn’t say that.” He gruffly replied and continued to look ahead, not daring to meet your eyes anymore.

O Angel, let me fall on my knees, kiss your fingers, and weep for forgiveness. So you may hold my absolution, and make me man again.

“C’mon, we gotta take you home.” Simon internally cursed himself for not taking you both to the bar in a car. He hadn’t considered the possibility of you being a drunk mess. Do I ever consider anything?

“No!” Your loud whine echoed in the empty pavement, and he could barely hold in a chuckle, deciding to bite his bottom lip beneath his mask. “Can’t we spend more time together, Si?”

I’d spend a lifetime with you. But god forbid he ever said those words. Not to you, not to anyone. “S’not like m’gonna die or somethin’, or that you’ll never see me again.” Simon grumbled and tightened his hand around your waist, accommodating your wobbly body, guiding you.

Simon wished he could take your hands and sway around with you, let both of you move into a sweet dance, with the stars praising you. A performance for the cosmos. He wished he could hold you when you throw yourself over him, to let you never escape his embrace. Lovers forever tangled.

He wished.

He wondered what something like that even would look like. His dad never danced with his mother. He remembers his mother looking at him, holding in her tears and forcing a smile. “I promise your dad loves me, just as much as I love him. He's just… exhausted nowadays.” He wished his mother didn’t consider him a naive — a child.

Simon doesn’t think he was ever a child. A child is innocent, his very first cry was a sin.

“Simon?” Your voice snapped him out of the reminiscence he was trapped in. He let out a soft grunt, urging you to continue.

“Have you… Have you ever seen a ghost?” You burst into laughter at your own poor attempt at the joke, a rapid change of emotion, though in your defence, it’s definitely very funny. Your free hand tried to wipe the tears as you continued laughing, and Simon swore that this was truly the angels’ hymn eliciting from your mouth.

“Do I count?” He grinned behind his mask, the side of his eyes crinkling a bit. You quickly shook your head and stared at him with determined eyes, fully set on your question. “In that case, no. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one, love. But if I do, I’ll make sure to tell ‘em you said hello.”

If it was someone else like Kyle or Johnny who would be laughing about this joke, Simon was sure that he would have said something snarky or just straight up ignored them. But not with you, never with you.

“You’re the best.” You beamed, his heart squeezed painfully.

“We’re almost there.”

Upon arriving at your apartment complex, he dropped you off outside your apartment’s front door, the only thing in mind being to flee quickly so your sweet smile doesn’t taunt him anymore. Though he simply couldn’t, your fingers not letting go off his forearm at all. Too exhausted to figure out if it was intentional or not, he sighed under his breath and turned over to face you, brown eyes having a slight shine in them due to the hallway’s light.

“C’mon, you gotta go in and rest.” He couldn’t figure out why his breathing was falling short. Was it the alcohol? He barely drank anything.

You, on the other hand, tried your best to not look up at him and meet his eyes, knowing that it would shut you up. Like the intimidating gaze of a god, a warrior. You had to speak your mind, had to know about something, to ease the storm in your head.

“Are you getting bored of me?” These words slipped out of your lips as a meek whisper, forbidden.

It was a sickening feeling that ensued within Simon after that, as if something was grabbing his heart and trying to rip it out of his chest. Inhale, exhale. He didn’t know what exactly horrified him. Probably the fact that he knew what had caused you to think like that. The perfume.

O Angel, let me carve my heart out with a knife and hand it to you as an offering — apology. So may your hands embrace it and take me home, with thee. So may your fingers caress my cheek once again, and let my blood paint my skin.

“No.” He was embarrassingly quick to reply, fingers curling up into fists by his sides as he inhaled sharply. How could he put such thoughts into your head? How could I? Only a devil, the most evil being, could commit such atrocity.

You paused at his words, not knowing what else to say. No? Then why was that perfume there? You didn’t want him to think you were dumb enough to not notice that. “You’re lying…” Your voice cracked, and it was no longer the alcohol playing you like a puppet. It was you now. You felt like your own marionette. Stop speaking, fucking stop. “I am not dumb, Si. I saw that p-perfume on your couch the other day. Is that why you got mad at me?” God, stop talking please. “You could have just… said that you prefer other girls. Am I… Am I making a fucking fool out of myself here?” It terrified you, your own emotions terrified you. Your voice was rising just a bit, and all your feelings had their hands wrapped around your throat. Controlling you. You didn’t want to speak, didn’t want to say it out loud. You weren’t used to being so open about your mind, and now you felt like nothing but a cat shivering under the rain — alone and abandoned. Vulnerable, naked.

Maybe you and Simon weren’t so different after all. Vulnerability — just why did it terrify humans? Were the angels and the gods just as opposed to vulnerability?

“Oh, l-” Love. It almost slipped off his tongue, and he didn’t know if you even wanted him to call you that right now. The thought alone made him shudder uncomfortably. He didn’t know what to do — stuck in between two roads. Should he lie? Or tell you the truth? — That it was just one time, a drunken act that is nothing but lamentable to him.

Why were you both even acting like an actual couple right now?

He swallowed the lump that threatened to torture his throat, exhaling softly. “I was drunk, and it happened. She probably left her perfume accidentally.” He spilled the truth out. Just the way a mature person would. Don’t be fucking daft, Riley. His eyes assessed the subtle twitch of your brows at that, your lips quivering. He wished he could just lean in and kiss all the tears away, despite them not having landed on your cheeks. Hopefully they won’t.

“Oh…” Your response was too short, unsure and reluctant. It made Simon feel as if he had sinned once again, chains threatening to drag him into the darkest depths of Hell. Home — the one he was familiar with.

You swallowed nervously and looked down at your feet, your hand long having stopped holding his arm. Instead, your fingers were fiddling with one another anxiously. Why did you feel as if you were betrayed? A desperate cry for love, you wished you could say it to him. To his face, sob and scream about what you felt. He was the only one who understood, who was willing to understand. He was the only one who ever was, and who ever will be.

The agreement. It was no longer just fucking, it never was. Not since the day you saw him with Kyle, not since the day he talked with you after Kyle gestured at you. Never. Could he also see it all the way you did?

Your silence was a clear indicator of the fact that you were lost in your thoughts now. Simon’s eyes softened up, and before he could think rationally, his body reacted on its own and embraced you tightly against his chest, strong arms wrapping around you protectively.

“Fuck…” He cussed under his breath, despising how his voice was thickening up with emotion. He hugged you like an old dog messily giving affection to its owner. My angel, my angel. I sinned, I have sinned. I am sorry.

He pulled you impossibly close, as if wanting to mold his body into yours, to become one. He could be with you forever in that way, to be your breathing and you his heartbeat.

You didn’t even feel confused at his rapid action at all. Just broken, so broken. He was the hammer that had finally hit the dam, and broke it. “W-Why?” Your voice wavered and mixed into a sob, your hands tightened holding onto him, fingers threatening to dig deeper as you let your head rest against him, tears tickling your skin. “I am so tired… So tired, Si. I hate you…”

“Do you want me to leave?” His hold tightened despite his words.

“No.” Your words came out a bit more forcefully than you had intended, too anxious to let him go. You felt his right hand leaving your back, a soft whimper leaving your lips once you felt his lips, bare and real, pressing a soft kiss on the top of your head, soon realising that he had taken his mask off. Too shy and messy in tears, you made no effort to look up at him and instead continued to cry, emotions desperate to keep pouring out and leave the imprisonment of your body. His hand continued to rub the back of your head while his other held your lower back, both of you unknowingly taking a few steps back and forth together, unable to stay still. It was as if you both were dancing slowly, like lovers.

“Alright. Hand me the keys, love.” You tentatively grabbed your keys from where you had kept it and handed it to him, your hands quickly latching onto him again. He carefully unlocked the front door of your apartment and led you inside, being extra cautious so he doesn’t accidentally step onto your feet. Closing the door by kicking it gently with one leg, he gently guided you towards the living room, easing you down onto the couch.

“Do you remember that creepy guy that came into the cafe?” Your voice was still shaky from crying, eyes all glossy as you finally looked at him, heart skipping a beat. Despite already having seen his face the last time, you still weren't used to it. Were you blessed?

He silently nodded and took a seat beside you, his arms leaving your sides so his large hands could cradle your face, thumbs tenderly wiping the drying up tears away while you talked, eyes looking everywhere but at him due to the sudden proximity. He didn't mind it at all, simply adored your sudden sheepishness.

“I still get scared at the thought of him… I don't want anyone like that to visit the cafe again. I-I don't think I can handle it.” Your voice gradually got quieter by the end, nibbling on your bottom lip. Oh, dear. Simon hadn’t told you that he had already beat that creep up. Now he somewhat wished that he had killed him instead. Surely Price would back him up if he made up some reason, yeah?

Your shoulders visibly eased up at that, your mind clearing a bit. Probably sobering up? You were sure that you weren't going to pick up a bottle of alcohol after this. Leaning into him, you decided to rest your head on his chest and listen to his heartbeat. Expecting a soft, calm rhythm — you were instead met with a fast thump, your brows furrowing though you decided not to comment on it.

“He wouldn't. No one will ever treat you like that again, love.” As long as I am here. Possessive yet guilty. He was vaguely promising to be by your side while always avoiding you, protecting you from himself. From the ugliness within him. No angel must spare a glance at a stray, especially not one used to violence.

His hands were playing with the fabric of your shirt now, mindlessly toying with it, feeling the texture under his skin as he gently tugged onto it. It felt oddly comforting, both of you not mentioning what happened outside the apartment a few minutes ago.

You looked up at him again, your eyes falling onto his lips this time. A bit chapped with a small scar adorning the side of his upper lip. You couldn't help but smile at the sight, leaning forward to place a bashful kiss on top of it. Simon let out a soft grumble at that, tilting his head to the side so he could kiss your lips properly, eyes fluttering shut alongside yours. He could taste some hints of your salty tears, his hands holding your waist while your hands held the back of his neck, letting his lips devour yours.

He held onto you gently, not wanting to be tight despite every fiber within him wanting to hold you fully against him once more, like a hound too eager to please.

Once he pulled away from the kiss, his heart skipped at the sight of your lips being all glossy. Ethereal. Your lips twitched into a giddy smile, and he could swear that he felt the heat radiating off you once it crept up onto your face. It felt soft, everything felt too soft and warm. The gentleness threatened to suffocate him once more, a mocking reminder of him being undeserving of such tranquility. He was supposed to be wed to the war, to violence. To the bloodshed that haunted his dreams. Not whatever this was.

But he refused to get up, not wanting to see any more of your tears. “We have to get you to bed. You need sleep.” He spoke quietly, a soft sigh leaving his lips once he felt your forehead pressing against his, letting you lean into him.

“Will you join me?” You normally would have never asked something like that, but the way he was holding you almost made you believe that he was willing to warm up a bit more with you.

Simon frowned at that, pulling his head back slightly. “We can't, you're drunk.”

Realising that he misunderstood you, blood rushed to your cheeks and you looked away in embarrassment, your voice getting timid. “No… I meant sleeping together. Nothing else.”

He paused, eyes softening up as the implication dawned on him. Sleeping together. Innocently domestic — something you both had never touched. He wanted to reject, to say that it’d be better for him to just leave. That could have been the better option anyways. Though he couldn't bring himself to refuse you, too enamoured, as if trapped in some spell by you.

“Fine.” He clicked his tongue in a poor attempt to appear reluctant, masking his inner eagerness. Helping you off the couch, he led you towards the bathroom first, opening the tap. “Let's wash your face first, yeah?”

He did everything — getting you in comfortable pajamas once he finished helping you clean up, even helping you in preparing the bed. Everything. It made you feel as if you were cared for, as if he was the warmth you had ached for throughout your life. The felicity had long spreaded within you once you laid down on bed, watching him lay down beside you.

He was tense, visibly so. You tentatively scooted towards him, a hand reaching out to settle onto his chest, to feel his heartbeat once again. Maybe in this way, you could sync your heart with his, build your own little bubble. Or was that too much to hope for?

“Thank you…” It just slipped out of your mouth like a soft prayer — a hidden whisper to be close to him so more.

“S'nothing.” His eyes looked over at you, taking in the contentment etched onto your face. He wanted to wrap his arms around you and hold you against him, to let you melt in his embrace while you slept. No. That's too much, that's crossing a line. A line made up in his head.

You're building your own grave, Simon. He despised his own mind for mocking him like this, for littering his head with unwanted thoughts. Just one night.

“Sleep now, love.” He whispered quietly, watching you reach over to turn the lamp off. You shuffled besides him again, letting the blanket cover you up.

Simon doesn’t remember the last time he had slept so nicely, your soft breathing his lullaby.

Upon waking up alone on your bed, a heavy feeling of dread settled on you alongside a throbbint headache. Had he left? Wasn't it just getting better?

Holding your heart together from cracking it with every strength you had, you tried to take a few deep breaths. Don’t panic, don't-

The sudden clinking sound from outside your bedroom made you jolt, and only now could you notice the pleasant aroma of something cooking. Sheepishly, you slid off the bed and tiptoed over to the door, poking your head out to look around. Able to make out some of Simon's figure through the open door of the kitchen, relief flooded deep within you. He's here.

“Good morning, Si…” You greeted him once you entered the kitchen, standing besides him, rubbing the weariness off your eyes. He gave a soft grunt of acknowledgement, focusing on cooking some breakfast.

“Your whole kitchen needs some restocking.” He mumbled, sparing a small glance over at you. You stayed quiet, a bit embarrassed by his observance. You were planning on restocking it soon, anyways.

The morning went by like a pleasant breeze, your mood ever so joyous today. You felt light, as if floating on the clouds and reaching the stars, as if becoming one of them, alongside Simon. He hadn't mentioned much about last night at all, even gave you some pills and an offer for a head massage. You had declined it, mostly because you didn't want to show how greatly affected you were by the subtle signs of care laced in his actions, despite it being already evident all over you.

You didn't know what had driven you to act in the way you did in the afternoon. Maybe you shouldn't have opened your mouth, just kept it shut and complied.

“Si, I um… I want to talk to you about something.” You paused the monotonous movie literally none of you were actually focusing on, turning over the couch to face him, your fingers tightly curled on your lap, digging into your flesh.

Maybe it was just your heart acting out, feeling as if things had changed. Foolishly clinging onto the thin strong of hope, never learning. Never learning that touching stray dogs was bad, they had fleas. Fleas that had already infected you, threatening to devour you.

“I think… Uh- I was wondering- I just-” Fumbling over your words, all you could hear was the loud beating of your own heart, each nerve of yours set on fire. Anxious, too anxious. You wanted to throw up. “I wanted to tell you that I really… like you, and-” Your words drowned into heavy silence once you took note of just how silent Simon was, how he was frowning.

A fool. A fool who dreamt too much, who was too lost amidst the heavenly clouds of tranquility. A fool who did everything to avoid reality — that's what you felt like.

“No.” His reply was rather abrupt, clear. The subtle smile on your lips fell, and Simon wished to do nothing more than drown into a river. “You don't like me.”

“I-I do!” Unbelievable, did he not believe that you like him? Even love him.

“You shouldn't.” That came out more roughly than he had intended to, a little snarl escaping his throat. “We've already discussed it, this is nothing.’

You should have shut up at that, should have somehow sewed your lips together and quieted down. You couldn't, instead growing more agitated, more on edge. “You can't say that, Si! D-Don't you see whatever it is that we're doing?” You whimpered in exasperation, trying to keep your voice from trembling, miserably failing. “I care for you! I do, and you care for me too. I can see it…” Vision progressively growing blurrier with incoming tears, you looked away and tried to ignore the sting in your eyes, your breath shuddering. Fuck, fuck, fuck.

Simon was at a loss of words himself, his heart aching to kiss your tears away and plead for forgiveness. He was a cruel, cruel man. Cruel for being so terrified, cruel for being so persistent.

O Angel, forgive me for I can't let you love me, for light should never kiss the shadow.

“You shouldn't…” He repeated his words again, his voice quieter, weaker. A plea, a request. You shook your head, a sob erupting from your throat as you tried to reach out for him.

He pulled away just as quick, your hand never meeting his. An ocean that could never touch the moon, a man that could never touch a star.

“I need to leave.” Hastily he turned around and walked out of your apartment, leaving you speechless, hand still shamefully held out. Frozen and alone, unloved.

Simon Riley was a coward.

Simon had lost count of how many bottles he had drank by now. Feeling horribly, horribly similar to his father. A drunkard, disgusting. He thought the alcohol could wash his emotions away, drown them hopefully — all it did was make him even more vulnerable, his glossy eyes staring off at a distance.

Weak. Ironically enough, this brute was nothing but weak. Everyone should be laughing at him, you should be laughing at him. Laugh at him for not knowing how to love properly, for being so quick to run away.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of his phone ringing, making him click his tongue in irritation that soon melted away once he noticed the caller ID.

Price.

He picked it up and listened to his captain's words, each syllable both a stab and a blessing.

A deployment again, finally.

notes — i apologise for uploading it after A WHOLE MONTH. blaming it on the writerphew, a deployment! this could mean many things. also a heads up that either chapter 6 or chapter 7 will be the last one (made some changes to my plan!)

[anemonelovesfiction]

18~ Trapped Together

Aged Up! Rotxo x Fem! Human Reader

Warnings ⚠️: P! In V!, light mentions of eating out, light mentions of handjob

Not Proofread

MDNI 🔞

This was a hard one to come up with and I feel it was rushed? What do you guys think?

Word Count: 2k

I’m human.

He’s Na’Vi.

How convenient was it that we’d both chosen the same hiding spot to avoid getting caught after Spider had introduced everyone to the game of hide and seek. I placed my hand on my beating heart in an attempt to calm myself after having found him in here, his head and ears had perked up as soon as my frightened squeak had left my lips, although he had already been looking in my direction as I’m sure my footsteps had made him aware of my presence.

“I did not mean to scare you,” He sweetly proclaims as he holds both of his giant hands out to show he meant no harm, its funny how there are some parallels within our species when it comes to expressing things.

“I can find another place to hide since you were already-“ I pause as he raises the back of his hand to touch his lips in an attempt to get me to stop talking, all I could do was stare dumbfounded until hearing the slightest echo come through the cave.

“Is anybody in there?” Tuk’s tiny voice bounces through the cave and I can feel the hairs from my body standing up as if I’d been caught doing something I shouldn’t have. I can feel my body stiffen and my eyes widen as I look over at Rotxo whose mimicking my movements, a shiver runs past my spine as I hear her footsteps and am unsure if she’s attempting to walk into the cave or if she’s decided to walk away.

“If you leave now you will get caught.” Rotxo whispers, but it was kind of obvious, Tuk’s curious nature would lead her in the cave to double check if anyone else was in there since she’d failed to investigate in the first place and that would count against both teams.

This wouldn’t have mattered had we been playing a normal game of hide-and-seek, but we weren’t. Spider had decided to make a bet between the Omatikaya and Metkayina, whichever party got captured in its entirety would have to do the other players chores for a week. Knowing Rotxo’s playful nature he wouldn’t want to be the first one caught from his own team, but he also knew how Tuk’s brain worked, hence his willingness to share this hiding spot.

“You’re only saying that so you don’t get caught and cost your team a point.” I whispered back with an amused look in my eyes, withholding my laughter, a smile playing at my lips as I stared into his gorgeous honey-green eyes. His own small smile making an appearance.

“Want to play our own game until they give up on finding us?” He suggests, I could honestly use a distractor to keep me from getting bored, plus the longer we played the more I could bond with him and not have to rely on staying friends with the younger children who were more open and curious about being close to a human, Tsireya was open but was often busy teaching many children how to dive.

_________

The game was called nervous and you got five seconds to touch the other person somewhere on their body to make them nervous, and considering the size of his hands compared to mine, he was bound to touch my entire body in two turns! Okay maybe not two, but it would be pretty damn close.

His innocent and adorable face mixed with his not-so-innocent touching was what got us into our current make out session, my lungs were burning and begging me to put my mask back on but I couldn’t bring myself to care, just a few more seconds, I’d learned to hold my breath like everyone else and my body was craving more intimate touches.

But it didn’t take long for him to slide my mask onto my face right as he’d disconnected his lips from mine and I’d decided to take in a big breath of air at that moment, my body somehow having landed on his lap.

“You have to stop waiting too long between breaths, Y/n.” He stated sternly although the amusement danced around his eyes, one of his hands on my waist and the other on the back of my head to hold the mask steady. I could only stare between his eyes and his mouth before he eventually got the hint and playfully rolled his eyes.

“How much longer are we going to keep playing this game?” I asked although I didn’t seem to mind playing it.

“Are you bored of it already?” He asks with his head tilting to the side some.

“I think I want to play something else,” I shift in his lap and hear him inhale through his nose, feeling the softest of bulges beginning to poke me, knowing exactly what I was doing “And it feels like you do too.”

It hadn’t taken long for him to undress me, his fingers had carefully grazed along my flesh every once in a while, causing goosebumps to erupt in their wake. The softest of flicks of his tongue along my breast and the rest of my body, most importantly my pussy, had a dizzying affect on me and easily had my head dragging along the floor of the cave making a mess of my hair.

My own hands had looked comically small in comparison to his cock but at that moment I hadn’t cared, as I attempted to wrap one hand around it and struggling until I brought my other hand up for assistance. The amount of precome leaking from the tip as I teased his head was surprising, enough for me to manage to spread it around his entire shaft, then again given their size and how gifted the metkayina men appeared to be, I should have expected it.

“I do not want to finish yet-“ He gently pries my hands off of him, I look up at him through my mask and nod gently, tempted to lick the precome off my hands but stopping myself as it meant I’d have to take my mask off.

“Why don’t you lay down for me?” He suggests with a half smile and I smile shyly back at him, laying myself down onto the floor of the cave, some sand having snuck in and prickling my skin lightly.

I’m carefully holding the upper half of my body up by using my elbows for balance as he kneels down, placing his own hands between mine.

“Take a breath,” He states as one of his hands come up from between our bodies, carefully taking a hold of the bottom of my mask, I take a deep breath in and feel him lift the mask off me, his lips coming onto mine.

He slowly uses his lips to push against my mouth, causing me to lower myself onto the floor, feeling his other hand slowly trail down my side, grasping my hip and gently squeezing it, pulling back from our kiss and placing the mask back on my face.

“Are you ready?” He asks sweetly and all I could do was nod, one of his hands coming back to tuck itself under my chin, forcing it upright, making my eyes meet his.

“Words, please.”

“I am ready,”

“Will you tell me if I hurt you?” He asks sweetly and it makes my heart melt.

“You are rather tiny, compared to your body, I am kind of big,” He points at myself and himself respectively. I could only place my hand on his to get him to look back over at me.

“I promise I will tell you if it hurts too much.” I stated honestly, my hand going from his over toward his cheek, taking my own mask off and kissing him before placing the mask back on.

He nods once and shifts his weight between his knees on the floor, his cock still hard and leaking precome, bobbing lightly at his movements. I lay myself down and watch as he cages my body in with his, one of his hands going down to stroke his cock twice before placing himself up against me, slowly pushing in.

I could feel myself stretch to accommodate to his size, a huge sigh leaving my lips, I could see his head moving fast and his ears flickering before facing me, eyes checking mine for any sign of pain.

“I’m fine, keep going,” I urged, one of his hands cupping my mask where my cheek was.

“I promise,” I repeated again with a nod.

I could see him wince lightly before slowly pushing his hips back in, grazing against a special spot making me moan loudly, hearing it echo around the cave as he continues pushing in.

“Feel good?” He asks and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice, I could only answer with a sharp cry as he continues grazing against that same spot. I could finally feel his hips against my own, his balls slapping against my ass lightly.

At some point I must have wrapped my legs around his waist as I attempt to push myself into him to feel more of his cock pushing inside me, feeling giddy as I did so, my heart rate accelerating.

“More,” I stumbled to think in Na’Vi but managed to utter that word out, feeling cock drunk at the moment, and feeling him sliding out while gliding against the same spot had me seeing stars, I grunted as I attempted to grind my hips upward but failed at meeting his thrust back in, only howling in pleasure as he did, my voice bouncing around the cave.

“Shh, you do not want them to catch us, do you?” He whispers in my ear and I bring my bottom lip up between my teeth to hush myself at that moment, biting down harder as he thrusts back in, the distinct sound of his balls slapping on my skin being heard.

“I’m close-“ I huff out and close my eyes tightly as I feel the tip of his penis slightly kissing my womb.

“You’re very tight, you feel amazing,” He mumbles into my neck before feeling his canines nibble down onto my neck, causing me to clench down onto him, feeling his cock hitting the best spots inside me all over again.

“Rotxo I’m going to-“ I didn’t even get to fi ish that sentence as I came over his cock still thrusting deep into me, hearing him groan loudly at the feeling of my orgasm as he attempted to continue his previously set pace, failing to do so as he too comes. His cock spurting hot ropes of cum into my waiting womb, desperation filling him as he attempts to push his cock deep within me as he comes undone.

________

“Where are Rotxo and Y/n!” Ao’nung asks in a frustrated fashion after having been searching for the pair alongside the his sister, Lo’ak, Neteyam, Spider, and Kiri. Tuk had been following the big kids as they searched for the two missing from their group.

Everyone desperate to find the other person not belonging to their group in order to win the bet, and each side growing frustrated at not being able to find the other player.

“What about that cave?” Tsireya is quick to ask as she points toward it.

“Nobody was in there when I checked earlier.” Tuk pipes up as she twirls around on the sand before them, picking up one of the seashells from the floor and marveling at it’s beauty.

“Did you actually look inside or ask if anyone was in there before moving on?” Lo’ak asks with his hands crossed across his chest.

Tuk just shrugged it off as she continued picking up more shells off the ground, finding more interest in them than she had during her game of hide-and-seek. Her childlike wonder having gotten the best of her, making her forget all about the bet that was going on.

“You do know if both of them are in there this game ends in a tie, right?” Kiri asks as she attempts to not roll her eyes at Ao’nung and Lo’ak.

“So?” Ao’nung was quick to say.

“That means nobody does any extra chores.” Neteyam points out.

[arachnixe]

One Final Homecoming

The rain falls hot on my skin, landing with a sizzling hiss whenever it manages to dodge the brim of my hat and find a patch left exposed by my dress. The burns heal immediately, the spell an automatic reflex I don’t consciously register anymore.

I don’t sneer at the people hurrying through the rain, shielding themselves from the downpour with umbrellas and coats. I don’t show my contempt for what I can only conceptualize as a form of cowardice, knowing the rain would happily embrace them if they let down their guard. The water would glide smoothly over their skin with a gentle caress, a “you belong here and I love you” that stands in stark contrast to the downpour’s efforts to scour me away.

I don’t sneer. I keep myself composed. My mask of indifference remains flawless. The world may reject me, but I rejected it first, didn’t I? Being born here came with certain terms and conditions I found disagreeable, and so I made myself its enemy.

It’s in the spirit of this mutual animosity that I stand here right now, in front of an unmarked office building in a city that sleepwalks a cancerous expansion of itself. My hand drifts of its own accord into my bag seeking the reassuring touch of the seed I carry. It’s still there—smooth, warm, pulsing gently—the beating heart of something altogether foreign, yet not a heart at all, and maybe not quite a seed either, but rather a key, and if there’s anything in this world or any other that a witch understands, it’s keys.

Time’s wheel turns, as do the wheels within and without. I turn the mind’s eye inward to watch. I raise my eyes skyward to see. At last the inner aligns with the outer. Above and below, a moment clicks into place. I press my hand to a locked door and push it gently open.

The security guards inside are unprepared for me. “The Anomaly” is their name for me, and they shout the epithet while drawing guns. Their bullets splatter across my clothes, leaving even less of an impression than the raindrops, and it has been a very long time indeed since mere weather could divert my path. I pluck their threads and discard the rest—without much gentleness, I must confess—as I proceed to the elevators.

Their computer networks would deny me access to the lower floors if I asked permission, so I do not. “Down” is the most natural direction for a thing to move anyway, and it takes little persuasion to coax this little box where it wants to be. Down, down, down below the surface of this world, I pass alongside the city’s veins of sewage and lightning, poisoned air and poison dreams.

Real resistance makes itself known down below. This building’s ideas have strong roots down here, where people in stark suits spin a web of ontology to catch and contain, sneering their contempt of me. I let the mask fall. I am no moth, mercurial and unaware, easily misdirected to get ensnared by their traps. I dance electric across the apocalypse they’d weave for me, high voltage burning my entrance and exit through their collective consciousness.

I have even less gentleness to spare for these agents than I did the guards above. They collapse, mindsblood painting the walls in crackling infrablack.

A stairwell—less accessible than most, requiring the right eyes to even see it—takes me down to the bottom floor. There, the root office. In the office, a table. On the table, a briefcase. Above it all, a fluorescent light flickers.

I shove the table aside and get to digging. When a thing is meant never to be unlocked, one may need to carve a keyhole. Sometimes this means using one’s bare hands to claw through carpet and concrete. I do as I must, working quickly and ignoring the arrival of my executioner.

The bullet she puts in my head is made of realer stuff than mere lead, and I die almost immediately. Not much time left, then, but enough to reach into my bag, extract the key, and offer it a single kiss. I plant it and suture the building’s wound with the guards’ threads.

“It’s over,” my executioner informs me as if she believes me unaware that I’ve already died. I offer my most withering smile, one I’m quite sure will eventually kill her, before laying myself down to rest. My curse rattles her enough to command that concrete be poured here, filling the root office and sealing me in, as though I were radioactive waste, safe as long as I can be sequestered away indefinitely.

She will survive my smile for a decade or so. Long enough, I think, to see the strange new roots growing upward through the building, throbbing with the lifeblood of something truly alien to her reality. A fine curse, I think, to be the only one aware of corruption gripping the nexus of her life’s work.

My bones will rest easy, nourishing the world that is to come.

[ivoryghostyy]

「 image, not mine. sourced from pinterest. 」

「 note: previously known as "love bite" and this is the actual revamp of the oneshot. "destined pair" feels too different from the original, so here's something closer. have fun. ^^ 」

「 tw: possessive, mentions of blood, non-consensual biting, non-consensual drinking of blood, slightly suggestive?, implications of stalking, violence — read with caution, i guess. 」

a dark chuckle reverberates through the winding hallways, filling you with a sinking sense of dread.

"come now, you can't hide from me. while i do enjoy this little game of chase, i'm beginning to lose my patience."

you do your best to calm the erratic pace of your heart, but the pressure is getting to you. you're bleeding out, for god's sake. for all you knew, you wouldn't make it out of this alive.

'how comforting,' you thought, as you basked in your own bitter notions. your mind blanks, however, when you finally notice the footsteps resounding nearby.

they're quiet—you barely heard them—but they're close.

dangerously close.

your first mistake was exposing yourself so soon. it was meant to be a quick mission: locate the target and take him down. but he had noticed you too early—almost instantly, as if he knew the whole time.

that should have been enough of a reason for you to back out, as even the slightest risk could lead to your death. you're dealing with vampires, after all.

yet, absurdly, you continued on.

why? somehow, you didn't know either. 'could be the alcohol. or perhaps, there was something bigger at play here. regardless, you kept your pace, staying at a distance and waiting for an opportunity to strike.

which, to be honest, took a lot longer than you expected. if only you could simply kill the witnesses, too.

he was a social butterfly, easily getting along with every person he conversed with. but then again, why wouldn't he? he manages a large organization, after all. with a handsome grin, he knocked everyone's guards down, leaving them completely vulnerable to his charms.

he's beautiful, you'll give him that.

after a while, he excuses himself, and you tail after him. as an experienced hunter, you've learned to mask your presence; to hide within the shadows cast beneath the soft moonlight.

it was going smoothly.

until it wasn't.

he stopped, turning his head to meet your alarmed gaze. it was brief, but it was enough for you to know: he knew you were there.

ruh-roh raggy.

you knew that playing ignorant wouldn't work on him. you've read his files—despite them highly lacking in details. he does a good job of keeping his information confidential—it's practically part of his job to find out if someone's lying or not!

seduction? he may be hot, but really, all you want to do right now is go to sleep. you are not getting laid tonight. really?

'alright, plan C it is.'

you booked it.

cursing under your breath, you ignore the painful ache of your poor feet. you'll be fine, probably. this isn't your first rodeo. for the record, you've once managed to escape with a broken leg, a stab wound, and a splitting headache. this should be easy! don't be so complacent, dear. plot armour can only do so much.

his looming figure casts a shadow over your guarded frame.

"there you are."

you're stuck. trapped between two unwavering arms as he grinned cheekily at you. his eyes are dilated, and he looks almost.. intoxicated.

"i warned you, didn't i? you can't hide from me, fawn."

fawn.

what a stupid nickname. you sneer.

"i'm impressed, really. not many can land a hit on me."

he refers to the healing cut on his chest, the wound beginning to weave itself back together.

righr now, you couldn't do much. with a bleeding gash running from along your hips, you're basically screwed. your hand clutches the wound, blood trickling through your palm as you struggle to apply enough force to your trembling hand.

god, you feel so weak. his eyes pull you into a trance-like state, and you're barely able to hold yourself together. he leans down with an angelic curl to his lips, reaching up to stroke your cheek.

"how cute. 'still resisting, dear? my, you're quite stubborn."

you grumble under your breath. unfortunately for you, he hears it. glowing optics bore right into you, and for a moment, you thought he'd kill you right then and there.

to your surprise, however, he simply chuckles. you release a breath of relief, shivering from the hot puff of air that brushes your neck.

then you wheeze; a pained gasp fumbling out of your lips as he slams you against the wall. a rough hand curls around your throat, sharp nails poking your skin—that should be enough of a warning to keep you still.

"now," your eyes trail to the side as you shift;

but he moves in, lips only an inch away from yours.

"ah-ah, what are you looking at, fawn? i don't want your attention straying. your gaze is meant only for me."

"shut up, you i-insufferable-" you cough, lightly gasping when the grip on your throat tightens.

"-oversized mosquito!"

…

goddamn it-

"pfft-"

his eyes crinkle as he laughs, and you're completely stunned; mesmerized by how genuine he sounds. seriously, has this guy considered making asmr videos?

"oversized mosquito? is that supposed to be an insult?"

his grip loosens for a moment, but he regains his composure before you can make a move. fuck vampires and their inhuman speed.

"i quite like you. you've always been an entertaining little fawn." he pauses, a thoughtful look crossing his handsome features before he smirks. "i've decided, i'll be keeping you." it shouldn't be a problem. you've always been his.

he smiles, but his eyes are dimly lit, glinting ominously.

"what!? no-" he interrupts you, a sharpened nail digging into the skin of your neck, drawing a few drops of blood.

"i don't think you heard me. see,"

he guides you impossibly closer. his lips now only mere centimetres away from yours. his thumb trails along your jaw as the other wanders up the skin of your thigh, landing on the small of your back. his touch leaves a trail of heat, a shiver crawling up your spine.

"i wasn't asking, fawn."

and in the next moment, you're pinned against the wall. he leans his weight against you, pulling your hands behind your back. his fangs graze your neck, and you can feel your heart beating frantically.

"i'll have you, even if i have to break you in the process."

the dread settles in, and for the first time in years, you're filled with pure, unadulterated fear.

"shh, don't worry, dear. the pain is only for a moment."

you're scared. he's going to bite you. he's going to bite you. as a last-ditch attempt, you move to stun him.

"stay still."

he's quicker.

fangs sink into your skin, and you whimper at the pain. the feeling of your blood being drained, of the unbearable sting of his fangs in your neck, you almost cry from the agonizing discomfort.

but this isn't what you fear the most. no, this doesn't even come close. you're not scared of pain; half your life was spent with pain playing the role of a clingy lover.

what you fear.. is what comes next.

pleasure.

you can't succumb to it. you can't! you can still take him down with what little strength you have left. you need to resist-

his fanks sink deeper, lulling the ache away and replacing it with a heated embrace. your tense muscles relax, and you stifle a guttural moan at the growing heat in your abdomen.

your instincts fight against the sedative effects, still trying to pull you out from drowning in pleasure.

wake up, goddamn it! he'll kill you!

breathing heavily, you once again struggle against his hold, forcing yourself to shove him off.

his jaw clenches, and you flinch. his hand pulls you closer, pressing against your stomach, causing a wave of heat to course through your trembling frame.

you feel so sensitive; almost like you're drunk on aphrodisiac.

as all fight leaves you, an open moan flittering through your lips. your eyebrows furrow. you don't feel the need to resist anymore.

why would you? you're safe with him. he is all you need.

your limbs grow heavy. why're you so tired? you groan, leaning your head back as he moves away. your wobbly legs can barely hold you up, so he takes the liberty of pulling you into his arms.

he grins in content, licking off the stray blood on your neck. you shiver, clutching the fabric of his clothes. 'you're so adorable. all vulnerable and dazed in his hold,' he muses to himself. you're disoriented, unable to think clearly as you nuzzle into his chest.

"look at you, darling. safe and warm, right here with me."

he'll make sure to take care of you. he's not just watching from afar anymore; now, you're finally in his arms.

'finally, mine.'

[celosiaceo]

“And Maybe, I’ll Say Maybe”

Leander x GN!Reader

Description: The leader of the Bloodhounds, a famously kind and generous man who would without as much as another give a newcomer a roof over their head, food on their plate and an oasis of normalcy to come back to after drowning in the insanity of Eridia. He’s been nothing but a hero to this newcomer, seeking to provide them with love comfort they couldn’t even dream of before. It almost feels too good to be true. So what happens to be lurking deep within, and what comes spilling out from beneath the flashy mask when the newcomer finds out something they shouldn’t have about their chivalrous saviour..?

Tags: blood, descriptions of sickness, descriptions of violence, descriptions of death

Word count: 7000

Eridia felt like an entirely different city beneath the veil of darkness. The barely lit streets and shrouded alleys felt like a maze cast in a layer of dust.

The dark stretches of houses failed to look any different from each other as I dashed past them, panting for air and taking random turns while praying for my escape.

Left.

Right.

Left

Left

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

My heart jumped from my throat to my stomach and back up with every turn I made. My gasps for air muted out almost everything else. Everything, but him chasing after me.

My lungs burned for air, my throat irritated by the cold as whatever I breathed in had no time to heat up. The wind hit my dampening eyes, I kept blindly making turns, and yet I couldn’t lose him.

I felt as if I was going in circles, the streets refused to be different. Or I was just unable to even see where the hell I was going. All I knew is that he was still behind me. And not far at all.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Adrenaline pushed most of my body’s pain out while I kept running, terrified of even beginning to turn around. Afraid to see him being right at my heel.

My heart beat as if it was trying to run out of my body. The rate of my pulse matched the heart’s urge to rip itself out.

And yet, from him, I heard nothing but the fast clicking of his boots against the pavement. He was way stronger than me, and he knew it damn well himself.

I didn’t even dare think of when the adrenaline would run out, and what I would do then.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Left.

In the darkness of the increasingly less illuminated streets, I almost ran into a wall while making a turn. The space began to feel narrower and narrower. Perhaps because of the panic exploding in my head. Perhaps because I was getting myself that deep into the city. Perhaps because I was setting up my own trap.

It felt as if my airway was closing. My throat was beginning to get sore. Like I could suffocate from one wrong breath. The pain began to trickle back into me as the adrenaline seeped out. My heart pounded with pure terror, my brain scattering as if it were blasted with a hunting rifle.

Every step hurt and my legs felt as though infinite needles stabbed into every muscle. The left side of my stomach, just under the ribs, broke out in torturous pain. I barely bit back a pained cry. One arm clasping at my side, I forced myself to run.

His speed did not even falter.

Left.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

At this point, I was gasping for air as if I were drowning. I knew I wasn’t running nearly as fast, yet he stayed at a distance. Was he indulging in this? Was he playing with his food? But… that isn’t like him, like many things I thought weren’t.

My fingers almost stabbed into my side to keep the excruciating pain at bay. I made the same turns, my mind turning into mush as it again began to feel like I was circling. Those narrow alleys did not stand out from each other, almost pitch black.

But then, the streets began to widen again. With newfound hope, I sprinted and clenched my jaw. Involuntary tears streamed down my cheeks. He began to catch up again.

The first triple crossroad. I began to try and twist and turn along the streets again, seeing this as a last chance to escape. This had to be it. This had to be my gate to freedom.

Left.

Left.

Right.

Ahead.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Right.

Ahead.

The clamped dustier air of the alleys was replaced with fresh cold air again. Hope had sprung the pain away a little. I ran like I never ran before, neglecting every screaming muscle in my legs and chest.

My pulse pounded heavily in my head. I thought it was a hallucination, but it sounded like he was falling behind. Another turn. Indeed. Yes. Oh Allmother yes.

I soared with glee. I found the energy to keep running despite my body self-disintegrating in a way. It felt so close, freedom felt so close.

Another turn. I snapped my head to the side. He wasn’t there. Oh Allmother. He wasn’t there. It’s so close to the end now. I sprinted. Another turn.

Shit.

A dead end.

My eyes darted.

Right.

Left.

Right.

Left.

My stomach dropped. The body was paralyzed as if frozen instantly in place. All of the pain suddenly erupted into the muscles. His steps were no longer heard. My breath sped up as all the energy sprung to my brain.

Think.

Think.

Think.

The dead end was full of litter, empty boxes, rotting planks, and reeking trash. A small balancing construction of planks in the left corner that leaned against the wall barely stood out from the clutter.

Without a second thought, I crawled in under it. My head almost nudged one of the planks. I quietly moved up a box to further hide myself from the right, curling up to be most obscured by it.

It was still dark on that street. Now for me, it was even darker, with only a small triangle above my head serving as my unobscured view.

The smell of rotting, decomposing wood surrounded me. My stomach churned. I clasped a hand over my mouth despite my lungs begging for more air. The pain in every muscle of my torso and legs made me feel like my fleshy carcass would crawl out from the skin and air itself out.

Tears streamed down my cheeks, and saliva overflowed in my previously dry mouth, almost making me choke. My heart was nowhere near calm either, craving more oxygen like the rest of my body, wanting me to gulp it like a thirsty human in a desert.

My hands went into a small tremor as I hugged my legs tighter to my chest and buried my face into my knees. I didn’t want to risk moving anything, Allmother forbid it falls loudly.

It was still quiet. Distant noises of a calm Eridian night began to settle. Barely audible crickets, someone’s window closing, echoing music from the Amaryllis district, a Soulless growling far away.

Despite my body wanting to writhe away from the stress, my mind began to calm down. It was futile, but I tried to calm my aching flesh down with small circular motions over my stomach. Perhaps he has lost sight of me after all.

I completely lost track of time. As far as I knew, an hour could’ve passed. Could’ve been a minute or less. I would be none the wiser. No approaching sound. Nothing. Soon, as my ears got used to the smaller sounds, everything began to fall dead silent.

There was only the sound of my breath hitting my hand, but that was no less unnerving. When could I come out? Has he gone back? Is he still looking for me? Would he still be looking for me after however much has passed? Everything felt like a haze.

The silence was simultaneously disturbing and soothing. Disturbing, because imagining a city like Eridia this quiet was unnerving. Yet there it was. Soothing, because no steps were approaching. No voices calling out into the darkness.

The anxiety and paranoia were nibbling at my sanity from the inside out. What should I do? There’s nothing I could possibly do to verify how much time has passed when I can consider myself safe. I felt antsy and uncomfortable. There wasn’t even room to squirm in fear of the planks falling.

Doubts began to creep into my mind. What if he just left? He could expect me to bump into him tomorrow, or soon enough anyway. Without him I barely had anything. No money, no food, no water, no roof over my head. It slowly started to settle just how much control he had over my life here in Eridia, the horrifying extent to which I was completely helpless in this strange place on my own. How desperate to stay away did he think I am? Because I didn’t know either.

Against a human, my hiding spot could work, but not against any Soulless, their heightened senses would definitely feel human flesh between some decomposed planks and a box.

A thought crossed my mind. I have no idea where I am. I was still in Eridia, that much I knew. The buildings weren’t the well-lit and flashy ones of the entertainment district, that much is certain. But the same applies to almost anywhere else. Everywhere in Lowtown looked similar, the streets barely differed between one another. Where do I even go for the night, or, actually, a couple of nights? I had to learn the hard way that no one here will stick their neck out for you unless they get something out of it too. Which is the opposite of my case. Why would anyone here hide someone the Bloodhounds would undoubtedly be on the lookout for? They’re local heroes, so I’d definitely be the villain to them if Leander were to say so. The realizations sunk in like stones into my stomach, weighing me down onto the ground one after another and making me wish I could fall through the cobblestone.

My train of thought stopped dead in its tracks, and my breathing hitched. My hand clasped tightly over my mouth. My fingernails stabbed into my cheek.

A quiet humming began to fade in, accompanied by a familiar clicking of boots. All too familiar.

No.

No.

No.

No.

He kept approaching. His voice was but a quiet, smooth sound in the deadly silence. His humming chimed to the rhythm set by his slow steps. He knew I was nearby.

He kept walking. Getting closer, like death itself coming after a plagued animal.

Right.

Left.

He took the same turns. As I could tell from the sounds only coming nearer.

There was a ringing in my ears like a church bell ringing right next to me. Again, I was frozen. The faint sound of his voice, like the realization of my impending doom, had paralyzed me.

My eyes involuntarily bulged, threatening to pop out of their sockets. My heart raced. I almost wanted to rip it out, fearing he could hear it.

My lungs curled in on themselves, making me suffocate. But I couldn’t even gasp for air. The pathetic amount of air I could get through my hand wasn’t nearly enough.

Perhaps suffocating would be a better fate. I didn’t want to find out what would happen if he found me. My mind clawed at the inner side of my skull, screaming in an attempt to escape this.

But there was nowhere to go. I was caged between decomposing wood to my back and left, and two walls of stone to my right and front. Trapped. I was trapped. There was no way I could move the box away without making a sound or being seen. I couldn’t get out of a dead end without being noticed by him. Not when he was twenty steps or less away.

My insides churned and squirmed. They also wanted to escape this doomed fleshy shell and run. But, just like I, they were bound in place.

He kept humming something. As he got closer, I couldn’t recognize what it was. A lullaby? A ballad? I didn’t know. It barely mattered. My pulse thudded in my head and throughout my body was still louder.

He was here. Just ten steps away. Maybe even at the same exact spot where I froze, seeking a hiding spot.

A small green light stabbed through the little triangle of space just above my head. Of course. He’d want a good look around. Drag out the fun and commit it to memory for the best of indulgence.

My muscles couldn’t relax, as if a force of terror was keeping them painfully tense, wishing to run but having no escape. I squeezed my side against the wall, my free hand pressing my head down more. My eyes cast to the triangle, observing.

The green light didn’t rest over a single inch of my skin, at the cost of me feeling like some of my bones would snap in half. Maybe he wouldn’t notice. Maybe he’d spare me.

He just kept pacing the area in circles. Humming the same song. For a moment, he stopped. My heart skipped a beat. Did he find me?

No. Not yet. He cleared his throat. Then he began to walk even closer. To the piles of debris.

He began to sing.

A slow, painfully slow song. It felt as though a knife was being dragged over my neck, just shy of stabbing. He hummed the same slow tune, louder. Like he sang to someone. My heart dropped to my stomach. Time itself seemed to slow down.

He knew I was there. No doubt about it.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

His voice was low and rich. I never heard him sing before. His voice could even be calming, but all it did was make all color fade from my face.

His voice was like dark honey. Deep, sweet, flowing smoothly, and with an addictive drag to it. Had ambrosia been a sound, it would’ve been his voice. If it weren’t the source of my deathly horror, I’d want to drown in it. It had a pinch of sultriness, I didn’t know if it was to mock me or to tempt me.

While he sang, he kept walking through the small area, as if dragging out a high. As if letting me simmer in a feeling of doom.

“Maybe… the one who is waiting for you”

“Will prove untrue…”

By his steps, he seemed to dance along while walking forward. His trenchcoat rustled in the air when he made a turn. For a moment, his singing stopped.

The sounds of wood breaking and falling stabbed the ‘serenity’ of the moment. I could feel my pulse halt. He kicked down some of the debris. A thought involuntarily crept into my head: would my bones sound the same if he were to snap them broken?

“Then, what will you do..?”

He dragged out the note and chuckled after it faded off. He was aware of me listening. A solo performance for a one-person audience. The last feast. Meanwhile, I could barely breathe, like a hypnotized mouse before a serpent.

Another pile of mold-ridden wood was broken. I couldn’t help but shudder. Just how amusing was this to him?

I couldn’t see his face. I didn’t want to. Ever again. I would rather amputate my own arms with a blunt rock than face him. Silently, I prayed. Prayed that he would just stop this torment and turn around and go back the way he came from.

“Maybe you’ll sit and sigh…”

“Wishing that I were near…”

My eyes dampened. I realized I had not blinked in too long, staring into the triangle of green light as much as my eyes could shift to the side without me needing to move my head.

I couldn’t help a shiver breaking out all over my body. The wall was cold, and every neural ending was times more reactive to any stimulus. Every inch of my flesh was inflamed, squirming and writhing like worms.

Simultaneously the sensations of a scorching fever burned me from the inside and the sweat soaking my skin froze my flesh on the outside in abrupt waves. I felt sick from the torturous contrast, my body sending itself into a cycle of confusion and physically manifested panic.

All while, his steps kept resounding against the pavement, for a moment in what sounded like the rhythm of a waltz.

“Then…”

“Maybe… you’ll ask me… to come back again”

Yet again, he kicked something broken and I couldn’t help another shudder, almost expecting his gilded boot to collide with my side. It sounded like he broke a box. I felt nauseated, my mouth suddenly salivating out of control as if I had actually gotten sick. Almost inaudibly, I gulped.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

He savored every note and dragged it out, his voice and steps would’ve undoubtedly swept me from my feet, had this not been the situation. He hummed the slow melody as if he were serenading me.

Suddenly, an extremely bitter, burning sensation arose in my throat. I kept my hand glued to my mouth, gulping back the overflowing saliva. My stomach flipped dangerously. I wanted to vomit from the explosion of sheer panic, but I had to hold it back.

I felt sick to my core. And him? He continued waltzing along the dead street, his shadow occasionally dancing over the little triangle of view I had.

His alluring voice became just a deliberate bit more sultry like he was flirting. As if he couldn’t just bring on my very death. Cruel. He was cruel. And I was too late to see it.

My shivering stopped, and his steps began to get closer. I couldn’t look at the triangle anymore, my eyes squeezed shut.

“Maybe… you’ll think of me”

“When you are all alone…”

I could hear the familiar smile in his voice. There was not a single doubt in my mind that he felt my agony and thoroughly indulged in it like an aged fine wine. He was punishing me for running in the first place. Especially for running this long. For giving him a hard time.

Tears began to prick at my eyes again, my second hand clutching my stomach again. The circular motions were a futile attempt at stopping the twisting and writhing of my organs.

He only drew nearer. Once again he destroyed a piece of nearby junk. And, again, I flinched. A desperate part of my mind wanted to just be dead already. This act that he was drawing out was too much for both my sanity and my body.

I forced myself to glance at the triangle. The green light was becoming blocked by him. He was starting to come into view. I couldn’t see his face yet, all I knew was that I didn’t want to. Another futile prayer was made in my head. Of course, it didn’t stop him. It felt like not even the Allmother could.

“Maybe the one who is waiting for you…”

“Will prove untrue…”

The daunting spilling of his soft voice made my mind spiral into insanity. I felt neurotic, there was nothing I could do in my self-made trap. He knew it. He kept taunting me with precision, somehow knowing how to press all the buttons with seemingly so little.

Now I could slightly hear the dangling of his jewelry, the quiet rustling of his trench coat. I froze again, eyes squeezing shut almost as soon as I opened them. I wished I could be able to pretend like he’ll disappear if I kept my eyes closed.

He stopped a step away from me. My heart began to pick up pace again. My legs ached in near primal instinct to run. Except there was nowhere. Only right into his arms.

Stepping to the side, he kicked some debris right behind my trap into the wall. It all broke with a hopeless crack. I knew what was coming next. And he knew that. Perhaps I was playing right into his hand all along.

The next thing I knew, the large box concealing me from the right was destroyed into timbers against the wall I was facing.

“Then what will I do..?”

The box was demolished. A pitiful pile of sawdust and mold slumped against the wall. It took him barely any effort. My breath halted in my throat, almost making me choke on the air. At last, I was completely exposed. Nothing hid me from him anymore. I was just a cornered animal now. I could lift my head to see his face, but my body froze in place, almost like it was playing dead.

The green light hit me where his silhouette didn’t conceal me from it. There was truly no escape from him, which my stunned mind needed a reminder of. My stomach dangerously thrashed again, my eyes bulging wide open as they darted to his boots. I could taste the corrosive bitterness on the further end of my tongue and in my throat.

A deep dread was nailed tightly into my head as if slowly knocked deep into the brain with each step of his. I couldn’t move. My head started spinning, a blunt pain echoing through the rest of my body as I felt like I was on the brink of death. It took me my last bit of restraint not to vomit or lose consciousness.

“Maybe, you’ll sit and sigh”

“Wishing that I were near…”

He spun on his heel one last time while stretching out the soft note, letting it bleed out into the all-consuming silence. With it, the whole pinch of hope that my mind desperately held onto fell dead.

His singing paused. His earring jingled and he let out a quiet chuckle. All of this stopped being real. There is no way that this is happening to me. There is no way that I’m here, about to die in a pile of moody wood in the middle of the night. At the hand of someone I once considered my anchor. My savior, even. When did all of it go wrong? When was the point of no return?

He slowly crouched down to me, fully coming into view. Leander’s green eyes, soft before, now looked dead and empty. As they stared into my mortified expression, all I could see in his was a hardly veiled glow of sadistic glee. Leander was smiling. The same little smile as always. But this time it felt so sinister. Was it really different from how he smiled before, or did it take being cornered like this to see what Leander’s smile stood for all along?

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

I couldn’t tell if Leander’s voice beckoned me like a siren’s call, or mocked my helplessness. Perhaps both. I felt small, crumpled into a futilely defensive position right before him. All while he sang. As if to sedate me in my last moments.

Leander’s eyes faintly crinkled when he tilted his head to the side, propping his cheek on his fist. He took in my vulnerability and how exposed I was. It was clearly intoxicating to him, Leander took it in like a good flush of alcohol straight to the heart. There was joy to it for Leander, his high-fazed smile felt so familiar, like all the times he smiled at me during the late nights at the Wick when he had quite a bit to drink. In that familiarity, for a moment Leander’s gaze appeared soft like it always did, but there was an unsettling darkness to it that surfaced, or only just became noticeable. Seeing it now broke me out of the trance, the illusion of tenderness that I saw moments prior was gone like a mirage. Leander observed me almost animalistically, I wanted to crawl out of my skin just to escape his eyes.

Tears involuntarily streamed down my cheeks. I couldn’t stop staring with terror right back at Leander, all while he observed with eerie amusement. My whole body broke out into a shiver, unable to stop itself from almost feverish tremors. Leander’s eyes, his smile, his voice, everything about him now was almost the same as always, but his presence made me feel like I was drowning in ice-cold waters that had no end.

In my last shred of hope, I almost wanted to deny all of this. This wasn’t Leander. Leander was someone who always offered a shoulder to cry on, someone who would go out of his way to keep everyone at peace and happy, someone who would smile along with everyone and be the soul of the company. Akin to a gentle giant.

This was someone else entirely. This was someone who gave a thoroughly long, outright draining chase, someone who held out a sense of false security and crushed it with deliberate cruelty, someone who took certain joy in feeling another’s torment at his hand and thoroughly savored it, indulged in it. Someone purely evil. Someone entirely malevolent.

Maybe it was there all along. Perhaps I was looking at a mask, a trap to lure desperate ones like me. Now it didn’t matter. It was too late. I was merely cattle waiting to be slaughtered. A lamb waiting to be sacrificed. Leander’s finger tapped against the side of his knee to the slow beat of the song. It was an almost tranquil scene. Nauseatingly so. Much akin to poison slowly seeping into the tissues of my body. I still couldn’t move, to Leander it all came with mocking ease.

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

The last note went on and on, like the painfully sweet aftertaste of honey. Or like the bitterness of poison. Then it cut off. Everything fell into a suffocating silence once more. I wanted to stab it, gut it with a scream that was trying to scratch its way out of my lungs. But my body stayed still, save for the tremor, like it was turned to stone once Leander looked at me.

And Leander knew what he was doing all too well. Off-puttingly too well. It was cheap, even dirty of him, to do this to someone so much weaker than him. But that wouldn’t change the facts. I was pinned down under Leander’s gently menacing gaze like a new butterfly in a lepidopterist’s collection.

Once he took in the undoubtedly addicting silence, Leander offered another quiet laugh, his earring jiggling when he shook his head a little. Leander’s eyes were partly lidded, the lighting making the purple darkness around his eyelids seem deeper. His expression was mockingly comforting, making a visage of consolation that I would’ve fallen for even earlier today seem disturbing instead. Leander was almost pitying me, both of us knowing I was at his mercy.

I was undoubtedly cornered. There was nothing I could do in my exhausted and deteriorated state that could let me put up more than a second’s worth of a fight.

Leander didn’t need an intimidating face to instill the kind of horror I’d never felt before. His face could look however soft, but he knew at what moment to make others aware of his strength. And now I couldn’t think about anything else. Leander was way broader, stronger, way more powerful with magic, times more resilient, he knew the city way better. My eyes had never been veiled, so how have I not once noticed just how enormous he is? Not even a miracle could save me.

And, as if on cue with reading my thoughts, his smile slightly widened to reveal a dimple. Leander bit a glove off his hand and let it drop onto the pavement. My heart hammered painfully in my chest while his big smooth hand reached closer. My eyes hurt from crying, but hot tears wouldn’t stop flowing at all.

“Oh, what happened, sweetheart?” Leander cooed, brows lowering in staged concern. His hand enveloped the side of my face and held it firmly in place while his thumb wiped the tears off my cheek. I could feel the strength of his hand, he made it clear that he could crush my face at any moment, even if now he continued the gentle act for his entertainment.

Against the heat of Leander’s big hand, I could feel just how cold my face was, it was like that of a corpse. My lips trembled, I couldn’t assemble a single word, as if I forgot how to speak altogether. All that came out was a pathetic mumbly noise.

My body felt like porcelain now, his hand feeling like a sledgehammer just shy of shattering me to pieces. Leander’s control of his strength slipped so rarely that now I feel like each time was deliberate. He tried so hard to seem gentle, but would sometimes grab my hand a little too hard, hold me a little too firmly. Just how much of what I knew about Leander’s persona was consistent veiled threats?

Leander kept caressing my face almost with care, his familiar smile again reminding me of all the warnings that I missed. “Can’t talk at all, hm? Speak to me, dear, don’t worry, everything’s alright now. You’re safe.” Leander reassured, squeezing my face while his free hand reached for my wrist. He was crouched on one knee now, empty green eyes not shifting from me at all.

I pulled my hand away from his like it was about to touch a flock of poison ivy. Again, I could barely muster anything. I gulped, and a quiet sob broke out past my lips. “Stop…” a barely audible plea managed to crawl out with great effort. His smile tugged a bit wider. A glimmer of the same glee shone brighter in his eyes.

“Your face is so cold, darling. You’ve been out here for too long. Don’t you know not to walk around at night? It’s cold and dangerous. Many have reminded you of that.” Leander mused, slightly tilting his head when he caught my wrist. His grip was strong, like a metal shackle. My whole arm kept trembling. Even trying to pull back would be devoid of purpose .

Leader’s eyes. I couldn’t stop staring into them. The same soft green eyes that were once synonymous with comfort and safety were now bottomless swamps. They were devoid of warmth or solace, pulling me endlessly deeper into their darkness and suffocating me, drowning me in their sickening venom. Cold, vacant of a soul, but still hypnotizing as all hell as if he were a hunting serpent and I was its prey. Absolutely unreadable and confusing like a hoard of slithering snakes. Alluring, but reflecting sheer cruelty and only a semblance of happiness from observing my suffering. Leander’s gaze was outright chilling. It was an imperceivable horror in itself, something almost cosmically vast and terrifying as a result. Nothing I’ve ever seen in anyone’s eyes until Leander. Hauntingly beautiful. Frightening, petrifying, and paralyzing, but fascinating in the most nauseating way. It felt like watching an asteroid crash a step away from me as it destroys everything in sight. Like the stomach-churning inability to look away from gory disaser while everything ends. If looks could kill, his eyes would grant me a merciless death of excruciating torment.

He began to tug at my wrist. My hands balled up into fists. I tensed as much as possible, not letting Leander move me from my place. Leander laughed under his breath and leaned in closer to me, his broad shoulders fully blocking out the pitiful space between this self-made cage and my freedom. With that same almost endearing little smile, he said “It’s so chilly right now, look at you shaking all over. Don’t you want to get back to the Wick? You know I can help you find your way back. I can always help you. I can always keep you safe. Just trust me.” His bangs fell over his eyes, concealing a good third of his face.

I still couldn’t say a word. I knew that any movement from my current place would pull me closer into my demise. But not moving would only make him angrier. Not even my curse could affect Leander, so any resistance of mine would be like trying to move a brick wall. All I did was stare at his face, at his faintly smug smile and void-like eyes. My eyes just kept watering because I kept forgetting to blink, subconsciously afraid of dying the second my eyes would close.

Leander’s grip tightened around my wrist, my hand began to feel even colder than it was as the blood circulation began to get cut off. His expression almost felt stuck in place, it felt increasingly off-putting and uncanny the more I looked at it.

“Please…just let me go… I… I won’t say anything… I swear…” I wheezed, my words crawling out barely louder than the crushing silence. My voice was broken, my tears cracking it at every other syllable. It felt futile, but it took me all my effort to beg for my life, to show that I didn’t give up just yet.

I could almost hear the bones in my wrist crack and squelch as Leander latched onto it so tight I almost screamed. My jaw clenched, I couldn’t help squirming. My other hand scratched at Leander’s wrist, but he didn’t move a muscle.

“Oh, my dear, it’s such an awful night for walks today! There’s never a rush to walk around, plus I can always help you find warmer clothes and keep you company, you don’t need a reminder of that, do you? I can’t help but wonder what made you get out of your warm and comfortable room to explore the freezing streets! I’d love to hear all about it while I guide you back, what do you say?” The same upbeat, cheerful tone as when he first held my hand and let me touch his face. He ignored my pleas as if I never opened my mouth at all. He didn’t even show a single sign of guilt, remorse, or doubt... Leander had something specific he wanted to hear, otherwise, I could as well stay silent and embrace my fate.

I had a suspicion I couldn’t say what he wanted me to. After what I saw… I knew I couldn’t. He silently demanded it from me, but he also knew there was a chance he wouldn’t get it out of me.

We stared into each other’s eyes. His greens held a demanding flame that was only spreading, scorching over every inch of my being with time. Leander gave me a chance to say what I needed to. But he made it clear without any words that his patience wasn’t infinite and was very much wearing thin.

Leander’s hand kept slowly crushing my wrist while the other moved from my face to the back of my head. It crept along my scalp, then slowly began to grab a fistful of my hair. Tightly. I hissed, hot tears bleeding out of my hurting eyes. Neither of us dared break eye contact. My time was ticking. Leander was still smiling.

I couldn’t. I knew I couldn’t. That thought just kept repeating infinitely in my head. Even if I lied, it would only give me so little to live. Leander’s Bloodhounds are loyal without question and would sniff me out from hell itself. Or he could always find me himself. Like today. I couldn’t be safe if I lied, and the fate that would befall me would be times worse than if I stayed silent now.

Leander began to pull my head backward by the hair, bending my neck out while my pulse began to hammer again. I couldn’t look away from him, my eyes still pleading and begging for any crumb of mercy while his kept demanding with newfound impatience, the curve of his lips wavering at the corner.

“Maybe you didn’t hear me, it’s okay though, you seem a bit unlike yourself right now. What do you say to me walking you back to the Wick?” Leander questioned as a last warning, this being the first time a drop of the threat spilled into his voice.

I cried and sobbed while tilting my head back. “Just let me go… please, please, please… I beg you, please… I can’t die like this…” I begged almost hysterically while my scalp burned with the pain from the tugging. It wasn’t what Leander wanted, and it looks like he saw he wasn’t getting it out of me.

Suddenly, Leander’s smile dropped. It fell so quickly, as if it hadn't been melted onto his face ever since I met him. My heart plummeted deep down to my stomach. I felt incredibly nauseated all over again. I coughed at the feeling that could only be described as my heart trying to crawl out through my mouth. My time was up.

No…

No

No

NO

NO!!!!

My breathing and heartbeat raced, and I began to struggle and thrash against Leander’s only further clenching grip. He did not back down. Didn’t even move a muscle to suppress my pitiful attempt.

With a violent jerk that shook all my innards, Leander stood up and yanked me onto my feet by the hair and wrist, throwing me at the wall. I yelped as my scalp throbbed with pain, my insides almost bouncing back from the wall at the strength of the impact.

The yelp turned into a broken scream when an indescribably painful crack came from my hand as it was slammed into the freezing wall. My head hit the planks when this happened, they almost broke at the impact and toppled over with a thud. I felt pain spreading from the top and the side of my head, it didn’t take long for warm trickles of blood to follow.

From my hair, Leander’s hand moved to seize hold of my neck. My pulse thudded against his hand with a feverish rhythm, like a useless reminder of my vitality. If anything, my panic entertained him.

His grasp was stone firm and trapping, only slightly shutting down my ability to breathe. That quickly began to change. I stared at Leander with nothing but pure dread when he lifted me to my tiptoes by the neck and leaned in close to my face. Leander forced me to witness his true monstrosity, one that he somehow concealed from most eyes for this long.

I squirmed and choked for air, coughing violently while my free limbs flailed hopelessly like the fins of a fish in the sand. Everything began to slip away.

His hand only kept clenching around my neck while he lifted me from the ground entirely. I choked and scratched at his hand and tried to bite him and begged, but it was all futile. All useless. His entirely unphased cold expression didn’t shift when my vision began to darken and become hazy at the corners. My head began to spin, my oxygen-hungry brain feeling dizzy.

“It seems you started taking the comfort, the safety I provided you with, and my kindness entirely for granted. Let me help you. Let me take you back, remind you where the line is.” His voice was a low growl, and Leander’s bloodthirsty, fury-filled eyes almost stabbed through mine when his face was inches from mine.

Croaky coughing and mumbling were all that could pass through my constricted vocal cords, but Leander kept speaking. “It saddens me so badly, dear. It breaks my heart. I didn’t dare ask for money, I didn’t even ask to recruit you. And this is my ‘thanks’? That just won’t do, Bloodhound rates or not.”

I wheezed and heaved, my body convulsing and writhing like a ball of worms. My nails stabbed into Leander’s leather glove and tried to scratch open his arm, but even with narrow streaks of red gleaming on his skin, he didn’t budge.

My field of vision further shrank. Leander’s face went in and out of focus, blurring and becoming overwhelmingly focused. Only his almost glowing green eyes didn’t fade. Shapes appeared in front of my eyes, the corners of my eyesight turning into dark static. “P…plea…se…” I croaked, what could be the last tears streaming from my face. My hands and feet were going cold as blood stopped normally circulating in my body. I started to lose feeling in my limbs. All while he mercilessly watched life draining from my eyes. Unmoving, like a statue. My eyes squeezed shut.

Suddenly, a sharp pain seared through my stomach, pushing all the pitiful remains of air I had out of my lungs. A wet warmth spread on my clothes, accompanied by the pain scorching me from the inside out. Leander stabbed me in the stomach. My blood trickled down and soon began to drip onto the floor. Then it began vigorously gushing out once Leander harshly pulled the knife out.

The cold began to spread, and my heart’s slowing beats echoed through my head. I could barely see anything, everything around me turned into a darkening haze. Except for the green eyes, which stayed brightly gleaming with nothing while scrutinizing death overcoming mine. Like he was reading an alchemy book, not one emotion in his expression.

Leander dropped me onto the ground into the puddle of my own blood. For a little more, he watched me. Then came the last moment of clarity for my eyes, and I saw Leander smiling again. That same smile that was empty all along. A husk of comfort, like a theatrical mask.

Leander picked up his glove and began to turn away on his heel. “If you earn the miracle of waking up again, you’ll know to appreciate me, right, my dear?” He waited a moment more until my near-glassy eyes fell shut.

I could hear Leander’s slow steps and humming echo as the sounds became more and more obscured by the increasing distance and gentle ringing of Death’s embrace. His singing, soft like a rain cloud, coated my head in an almost soothing feeling while all senses faded. Leander’s siren’s call kept luring me away from life.

“Then,”

“Maybe you’ll ask me to come back again…”

“And maybe, I’ll say maybe…”

Until all my senses faded out like a wax-drowned candlelight. Until the world went dark and quiet.

.

.

.

BAD END

[enqmind]

Fic!

This is what happens when you've recently read baby trapping fics and then have a conversation about what foods you can't eat around taking certain medications.

Soap/Female Reader WC: 1.4k 18+ content.

Warnings: Baby trapping, manipulation, tampering with contraceptives, tampering with food, technically poisoning, misuse of a dietary supplement. Noncon, despite containing no actual sex (because baby trapping).

Reader notes: Implied to dislike marmite, probably isn't Scottish, dislikes masks (not a covid denier. they just make her uncomfortable).

Gothmet

 Johnny has been cooking a lot lately.

 “Trying to take after your compatriot?”

 He’d laughed at that.

 “I think you’ll find I don’t hit my Boiling Point quite so fast, love.”

 You suspected he’d last five minutes in food service, since you’re not actually allowed to explode the sous chef.

 But as a home cook? Oh, he was passable.

 His latest creation was squid ink ravioli filled with an avant garde bacon and nigella seed concoction.

 It was interesting, but good was a different question.

 “Do you like it?” He asked, puppy dog enthusiasm radiating off of him in waves.

 “… I don’t know,” you confessed. “It’s certainly interesting, but I’m not sure one way or the other.”

 You half expected his face to fall, but instead he looked thoughtful as he took a considered bite.

 “Aye, I see what you mean. This’ll take some workshopping. You willing to be my taste tester?” 

 You grinned at him over your wine.

 “It would be my pleasure.”

 “And that is my top priority, after all.”

 He didn’t seem discouraged by the half hearted kick under the table, especially if his enthusiasm for ‘dessert’ was considered.

 His new culinary interest expanded to baking.

 The next day he presented you with a zebra cake with the highest contrast you’d ever seen. The chocolate stripes were almost jet black.

 “I got some o’  that ultra Dutch processed cocoa to try making my own oreos. Ordered one of them special biscuit cutters too, but it hasn’t arrived yet. So I decided to make a very accurate zebra cake.”

 “You ordered one for bourbons too, right?”

 “What do you take me for, hen? Some kind of godless heathen?”

 You raised your hands placatingly.

 “Just making sure, Johnno. Gotta check to see if you’ve been replaced by a sexy doppelganger every now and then.”

 He squinted at you.

 “Yeah, well. You’ll get your bourbons. With bourbon cream, mind.”

 “Always trying to ply me with something, aren’t you?”

 He looked scandalised when you laughed.

 Within the week he had those biscuits ready for you. True to his word the bourbons had bourbon cream and the orefauxs (as he called them) had Baileys cream. Both were as black as the devil’s bottom.

 “I might need a new wardrobe soon if you keep this up,” you joked between mouthfuls.

 “Ah, I’ll just help you work it off. Or just buy you a new one.”

 The look you gave him might not have been as withering as you’d hoped, but he seemed to get the message.

 “I’ll try to bake you something healthier next time.”

 Something healthier meant a coal black loaf of bread.

 “It’s a black bread,” he said cheerily, “it’s got rye in it. Thought might as well go the whole hog and added some activated charcoal to make it as black as you like your coffee.”

 It was with a heavy sigh that you turned your eyes to him.

 “I can’t eat this.”

 His face did fall this time.

 “Oh. You allergic to rye? Or are you afraid I’ve slipped some marmite in?”

 “My marmite take is neither here nor there. The problem is that I’m on the pill and activated charcoal can make it not work.”

 “Oh, shit.”

 He looked so crestfallen that you felt even worse.

 “Sorry.”

 “No, no. It’s my fault. Shoulda considered that.”

 You tore off a chunk and slathered it with butter, just to see him light up a little.

 “Well, I guess half a loaf over a couple days can’t hurt too much.”

 His grin was blinding.

 “Ah, but what am I gonna do with all this spare activated charcoal? I cannae eat it all meself.”

 You gave him a grin of your own.

 “Could live up to your callsign and use it to make soap. Good for the skin and all that.”

 “Ah,” he said sagely. “So that’s why they kept showing me that melt and pour stuff. I was starting to think I’d have to assassinate Bezos for knowing too much. How’d he even find out?”

 You chuckle as you eat your chunk of bread.

 “It’s really good,” you mumbled, delight rendering you mannerless.

 Johnny puffed up with pride.

 “I’ll try a different colourant next time. Still got that squid ink, after all.”

 “How is recipe development, by the way?”

 “Can’t complain. I’ll have another plate for you in a couple o’ days.”

 “I look forward to it!”

 In the meantime you were working your way through the biscuits, cake and that half a loaf.

 The second round of ravioli was divine. Exactly what was different was a question, but if Johnny was going to continue to be a magician in the kitchen then he was allowed a few secrets.

 He joked that this was the way to your heart, and he wasn’t far wrong. There was something about a handsome and rugged man cooking for you that was so very seductive. So less ‘way to your heart’ and ‘way into your knickers’.

 His culinary adventures continued with a squid ink version of the bread (still delicious, barely tasted different) and so much chocolatey goodness.

 Despite previously thinking such things impossible, you liked chocolate as much as the next woman, it was getting more than a bit much.

 “Don’t worry. I’ll take a break on the old chocolate,” he reassured you over some jjajangmyeon. “I’ve got a few more ideas up my sleeve.”

 He bought you a pie.

 It was rectangular, but certainly a pie.

 “I thought you said you made buns?”

 “I did hen, a bun at least. This is a black bun, it’s traditional around Hogmanay.”

 When he cut it open you could see why it was called that.

 The filling was dark as a moonless night and chock full of dried fruit.

 Granted, you were a bit leery, but you gave it a shot and were pleasantly surprised.

 “This is good. Remind me to come ‘round yours for New Year’s.”

 “It’ll be an invitation, not a reminder, lass.”

 You grinned, even with currents stuck in your teeth.

 The next thing he bought you was fudge.

 You were more dubious about this one than the pie.

 “Why is it black?”

 “It’s liquorice flavoured. Me mam asked me to make some, thought I’d let you try it too.”

 Maybe you could deal with the dried fruit, but the liquorice was a bit much. All sorts were one thing, but this flavour and this texture? It was weird and gritty and didn’t go. No thank you.

 “Well, you win some you lose some,” he grinned, “they can’t all be winners.”

 The liquorice might not have been, but the black sesame seed mochi certainly was.

 “It’s good in a porridge too, they use rice starch to thicken it.”

 You raised an eyebrow at him.

 “Porridge without oats? Do your countrymen know you’re speaking such blasphemy?”

 “Aye, aye. Fair point. You keep this schtumm and I'll work on some fusion cuisine so they don’t burn me in Parliament square.”

 It took a few days, but the proper black sesame seed porridge was welcome. You’d been feeling a little under the weather lately.

 “So what do we call this? Scorean? Kortish?”

 “Please stop.”

 “You’re no fun.”

 Johnny pouted.

 “Oh right. Before I forget; what happened to that soap making? Or am I just not getting any?” It was your turn to pout.

 “Ah, I decided to go cold process. So it’ll be ready when I get back from deployment.”

 You nodded.

 “Do you want me to bring some down when I come pick you up so we can throw it at Simon? ‘Cause he’s gonna need it with that fucking mask he’s always wearing.”

 Johnny’s eyebrow’s rose.

 “I still don’t get why you hate it so much.”

 “I swear he’s making faces at me under that thing.”

 “Really?” He asked dubiously.

 “I just don’t like it. He gives me a weird vibe.”

 Johnny looked affronted.

 “Hey-“

 “Because of the mask. Hated it during the pandemic, too. I’d last three minutes in Japan in the winter.”

 “I’ll take you in the summer then,” he smiled softly, placated.

 You rolled your eyes affectionately.

 “I’ll hold you to that.”

 As ever, it was with a heavy heart that you saw him off the next day.

 He did leave you with some treats to tide you over. Another black bun, some biscuits (chocolate was back on the menu) and a box of lovely dark parkin. Altogether, it should last most of the time he was away.

 It didn’t.

 You stress ate most of it when you found out you were pregnant.

[usoinked]

“Sleepwalking Through the Shadows”

Summary: What if Jey had crossed paths with Damian Priest while he was still the Right Hand Man of the Bloodline, and Damian was still part of The Judgment Day?

CW: Angst

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Jey Uso stood in front of the mirror, his reflection staring back at him in the dim light. His soft curls hung low over his forehead. His shoulders were tense, a storm of emotions swirling in his chest, but he couldn’t name them. He’d been living in the shadows lately, like a sleepwalker lost between his role as the right hand man and the man he was beneath his crumbling shell. Jey never felt this angry, this demented, and was certainly not much of a crashout until this point due to the mental and physical abuse from Roman. His mind raced with unanswered questions, his place within the Bloodline felt like more a prison than a family. The only person that really could comfort him in times like this was his twin brother Jimmy, but unfortunately he was still out with a knee injury. Luckily for him though, Paul was out running errands for Roman and wouldn’t be here for another forty five minutes at the least. And Roman wasn’t here tonight at all, which gave him some time to reflect on everything that’s been happening lately.

Just then, the door to the locker room creaked open. Jey didn’t turn around; he knew who it was without having to look. The slow, deliberate footfalls were unmistakable.

Damian Priest stepped into the room, his presence magnetic, shadowy. The faint glow of the hallway lights illuminated the hard lines of his face, the dark glint in his eyes. His Puerto Rican heritage was reflected in the intensity he carried, like a simmering storm that could burst at any second. Him and Damian never really spoke much, however, they did see each other when Jey would be trailing behind Roman through the backstage hallways. Even behind that serious persona Damian had, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

“¿Todo bien, hermano?” Damian’s voice was smooth, but there was a certain weight to it—like he was asking more than just about Jey’s physical state.

Jey sighed, finally turning to face him, a mask of indifference plastered over his expression. But Damian could see through it. He always could.

“Yeah,” Jey muttered, though the word felt hollow even as he said it. “Just tired. A lot on my mind, you know?”

Damian stepped closer, his eyes narrowing slightly. “You’ve been sleepwalking through it all, huh?” he said, his voice lowering, a touch of concern hidden behind the sharpness. “Just going through the motions.”

Jey raised an eyebrow, meeting Damian’s gaze, the intensity of it unsettling him just a little. “Man what’s that supposed to mean?” he shot back, his tone defensive.

Damian didn’t back down. “It means you ain’t living, Jey,” he said, his words heavy with meaning. “I see you, man. You’re trapped in your head, stuck between what you think you gotta do and what you wanna do. No one can live like that forever.” He stepped closer, his voice a little softer but still firm. “No me hagas esto, hermano. You deserve more.”

Jey swallowed hard, fighting the urge to look away. He didn’t want to admit it, but Damian was right. Something inside him had been shutting down for weeks. He didn’t know where the Bloodline was taking him, but he didn’t think he could keep playing the role of the right hand man for much longer.

“You ain’t the only one trapped in their own mind,” Jey muttered, voice low. “Guess we both stuck, huh?”

Damian’s eyes flashed for a moment, and he took another step closer, closing the distance between them. There was a fire in his gaze, like he was trying to pull Jey out of his own personal prison. “No, you ain’t stuck, Jey,” he said, his voice soft but full of an intensity that hit Jey in a place he didn’t know existed. “You just scared to step outta that shadow. But you don’t have to do this alone. Let me help you, hermano.”

Jey was silent for a moment, his thoughts swirling in a storm of doubt and uncertainty. The words hung in the air between them like an invisible tether, pulling him in, making it harder to fight. His eyes flicked down to Damian’s hand, inches away from his arm, the temptation of the offer lingering there, unspoken.

“Man, I don’t need nobody to help me,” Jey said, his voice just above a whisper, but even he could hear the lie in it.

Damian’s gaze softened, his hand reaching out slowly, fingers brushing the back of Jey’s neck in a gesture that was both gentle and firm. “You don’t gotta be alone in this, Jey. I got you. We got this.”

Jey stiffened, but only for a second. The pressure of the moment began to ease, replaced by something deeper, something he wasn’t quite ready to admit. Damian’s touch was grounding him in a way he hadn’t felt in a long time, like someone was finally seeing past the mask he’d put on for years.

Jey looked at him, not saying anything at first. The words weren’t there—he didn’t know how to say what he was feeling. But in the quiet, Damian didn’t need him to. The understanding between them was clear, even if neither one said it out loud.

The two men stood in the dark room, close but not touching, the weight of the silence heavy with all the things they both knew but couldn’t quite say. Jey didn’t know if he was ready to break free yet, but with Damian standing there, with that steady, unwavering presence, he was starting to believe he didn’t have to walk this path alone.

Damian’s lips parted as he leaned in, his breath warm against Jey’s ear. “I ain’t leaving you in the dark. You ain’t gotta be a sleepwalker no more, Jey.”

Jey closed his eyes, a sense of relief settling over him. He wasn’t sure what would happen next, or how to even move forward, but Damian’s presence, his words, they made it all feel a little less impossible. Maybe, just maybe, he could stop sleepwalking through his own life.

He didn’t answer back because he didn’t need to. With the new found respect that Jey had for Damian, hearing and understanding him was all he needed.

⋅───⊱༺ ♰ ༻⊰───⋅

Note: The atmosphere I wanted for this story is deeply influenced by the mood and themes in “Sleepwalker” by Adam Lambert, which talks about feeling lost, disconnected, and emotionally trapped. Not to mention it’s also a really good song imo. Anyway, with the emotional intensity, longing, and complexity of both Jey and Damian’s characters—especially in the moments where Jey feels like he’s been sleepwalking through his own life—are reflected in Damian’s desire to pull him out of that state! So Damian offers some understanding, companionship, and a way out, not just from the shadows but also from the emotional isolation Jey feels🫶🏽😌

[rxqueenxgirl]

HOW ARE YOU PERCIEVED ? ♡ (detailed)

if you want a reading more in depth you can massage me on private or you can know more about my paid readings here!

take a deep breath and pick a pile!

pile 1: rx sun, rx five of swords, nine of swords, queen of wands, ten of pentacles, page of swords.

your friends perceive you as pessimist. there's something blocking your real happiness like stormy clouds block the sun, so it's hard for you to be radiant. you're not confident or powerful in their eyes, they often find you unrealistic due to your pessimism. to them, you're bored and always expecting failure.

your family perceives you as something they wished to fix. every family has its issues, but yours lived a war where everybody fought for their lives. you live in the middle of a conflict and they know it. they know you're tired. they want forgiveness, they want to reconcile, they want to fix what they broke. they have a constant resentment, they regret the position they gave you.

society perceives you as fulfilled. everybody has their social masks and yours is very convincing for how opposite it is from reality. you transmit the balance between strength and happiness. for those who don't know you yet, you seem warm and with a stable mindset. but sometimes they do see something strange behind, something that gives you the reason to have an almost perfect mask. you might think to yourself 'it's okay, it's okay, just pretend' in order to display a false confidence, because you don't want them to see what's really behind.

you perceive yourself as what's left after a nightmare. you feel like you're trapped in your own thoughts, you feel hopelessness towards yourself. you see yourself as a lost person, staying in the same state of suffering and negativity. the demands that are given to you leads you to this helplessness. you feel trapped in anxiety.

you want to be perceived as enough. you seek validation through your life, mostly in your career. you want people to look at you and see success. you want to exhale strength, so they can think you've been the strongest one, that has been through a lot in life but still got up and proved everybody that they were wrong. but you also want to be calm, you probably want to have your own place (maybe with a family) and live in constant peace.

in reality, you are the embodiment of adventure. you have so many potential, so many good energies within. you have amazing ideas for the future, you're just insecure about embracing that part of yours. you have an inner voice, like an inner child, wanting to be free of this tough energy you keep out of fear, and you need to follow it! don't repress the good things that remain in you, because you're extraordinary.

pile 2: nine of pentacles, rx star, three of wands, rx moon, eight of pentacles, knight of cups.

your friends perceive you as satisfied. they notice your self-control and emotional comfort, they think you're independent and know how to manage the things in your lifes, specially when it comes to finances. they know they can trust your intelligence, as you balance well your energies.

your family perceives you as unfaithful. you might come from a religious or spiritual family background. they think you've lost your hope on achieving the love that resides on this higher plan. all your happiness and comfort seems like a despair to them, like a mundane satisfaction. they wish to see you "healed" from your actual beliefs.

society perceives you as delusional. people often observe you as mysterious and mythical, they know you have a great balance in your energies and trust your own potential, and because of that they think you might be too ingenue to perceive the world around you. in reality, they don't understand how can someone have this courage to walk through the darkness. they don't understand your free spirit and wanderer nature. they want to be like you, but they can't and will never be able to be unless they risk to see more than the superficial.

you perceive yourself as frustrated. you know what you're capable of, but it brings you down when you can't get over the big obstacles in your plans, it makes you feel powerless. you tend to be perfectionist, and a not calculated thing can frustrate you to the point you question your whole path to where you're right now. failure can't be in your vocabulary, but neither does "enough".

you want to be perceived as helpless. you want someone to see your struggles and motivate you. you don't want to fall but at the same time you want people to be there if you fall and help you to get up. you're deemed to be the strongest soldier, if you fall nobody actually cares about it since you can look after yourself. you wish people saw you with more sensibility.

in reality, you are adventurous. you have the power to make anything happen only by putting your thoughts in your actions. you know your limits both mentally and physically, and nobody around you can use this strength better than you. don't let your frustrations consume you, this natural gift is not to be wasted.

pile 3: knight of cups, x of wands, the star, vii of cups, rx x of swords, viii of wands.

your friends perceive you as idealist. they know that when you want something you start to act immediately to get it. you're open-minded, they don't feel hesitant to share things with you. to them, you're someone fun to be around, you're spontaneous and always ready for a new adventure. they stereotype you as the social butterfly, the one striving to make everything around more relaxed.

your family perceive you as a big responsibility. sometimes you might feel like a burden to them, it happens because they are scared to lose control over you. they see you as a fragile bird wanting to fly out of their hands, they feel the duty to cage you. the thought that you can survive without them is threatening to their dignity. you are not their little girl/boy anymore and it gets them frustrated.

society perceives you as youthful. you have so many choices and dreams ahead of you, and people often get impressed of how you manage them in such simple way, it's almost as it's just a natural instinct because it was predestined to be like that. you don't necessarily come from a wealthy background, but you have enough tools to get into a great financial situation in future.

you perceive yourself as positive. you are in a tough position to rate yourself, so is safer to have faith on your healing process, which is more of developing a maturity you needed before. achieving this level of self-awareness is very important to you, the taste of control is better than you thought. you might look back and see your past self as ingenuous, but you don't actually hate them, you see them as an important element to that growth.

you want to be perceived as rejuvenated. you want everybody to recognize your hard work to move forward from the past defeat. people often see you're different, but they don't connect this to your effort. you feel like a little bit of recognition would help you in this situation, like a warm pet on the head reassuring you're doing a good work. you probably won't admit to anyone, but you want validation.

in reality, you are frustrated. you heal from your past actions, but you're enable to forgive yourself. the existence of obstacles in your way discourages you into continuing with perseverance. you feel like you're not doing enough and still immature, somehow not worthy of a bright future, but you need to have patience in moments like this... just rest! it's not going as well you thought? it's part of any journey.

[hils79]

Hils Watches Tibetan Sea Flower - Ep 4

Now that I'm back at work I won't be able to watch as quickly as I did yesterday but I think after this week the release schedule is meant to slow down a bit. We'll see how we get on.

Wait, how many years are we talking?

Is this the first time we've seen Wu Yiqiong in a drama?

Ah, we're back to new young Wu Xie again

Ooh a new Wu Sanxing too

So Wu Laolou says he must be cremated within 2 hours of his death, no one should be 30 meters or less away from the cremator and no one must look inside the cremator after he's been cremated. Did he...swallow something?

Oh no I know exactly what this is. Fuck, I'm tearing up already

IS THE STATUE CRYING?? 😭

For some extra knives in the novel Wu Xie runs to this statue when his life is in danget because he feels safer with Xiaoge nearby even if it's just a statue of him

Of course everyone wants to marry Pangzi. And we all know he's doing to drop everything if Wu Xie needs him.

And of course Wu Xie knows that Pangzi would drop everything for him so he pretends that everything is fine. I AM DEEP INTO MY PANGXIE FEELS ALREADY AND THEY HAVEN'T EVEN HAD SCREENTIME YET

Honestly I'm amazed it's taken 4 episodes for Wu Xie to figure out this is a trap. And he didn't even figure it out, Pangzi did and he's not even there.

I love Pangzi so much!

Yep there we go. From 'I'm happy where I am because everyone wants to marry me' to 'stay put I'm coming to get you' in the space of 5 mins

He's so happy that Pangzi is coming for him 🥺

Of course Wu Xie has decided to try and befriend the one woman in this place who looks like she wants to kill him by stepping on him. He has a type and that type is women who could snap him like a twig.

You can definitely tell this is towards the end of Sha Hai era Wu Xie from the way he's meticulously setting traps and cataloguing the fingerprints of suspects. This is a man who has worked hard to wipe out an entire clan to keep Xiaoge safe

Man who frequently has hot women trying to kill him is surprised to learn that a hot woman is trying to kill him

Has he seriously got an internet connection in a monestary at the top of a mountain?

I recognise that voice. And that walk. OMG it's finally happening.

CHEN MINGHAO MY BELOVED!!!! I legit just started crying because I am a huge loser. I HAVE MISSED HIM SO MUCH 😭

LMAO Wu Xie's face! But...um...okay, there's a thing in the novel that I kind of assumed wouldn't make it into the drama but now I'm not so sure...

Oh thank god! So, in the novel they first start off by communicating via Pangzi writing messages on the toilet stall wall in his own shit. When he talked about having diarrhoea I had a brief moment of terror that they were going to go there 😅 NPSS really does like to include gross stuff involving bodily fluids in his novels

God look at him

I'm such an idiot I know who this is and I still gasped when someone with Wu Xie's face showed up unexpectedly. I won't spoil it for those who haven't read the novel

There we go! That's the Wu Xie I've been waiting to see!

Now the two Wu Xies are bickering. Where's my popcorn?

Still not used to this drama actually having a budget. Where are the wonky special effects?

I hope the bickering continues for a while this is fun

Human skin mask my beloved plot device

IS THAT ZHU YILONG'S FACE???

[evaskjew]

Crying Evangeline

A first for me! I'd never dared take a reference pose and make it my own to do Evangeline, plus do the colouring (I'm really lost without a model, especially to do the shadows and the folds in the clothes). Apart from the arm proportions and hands, which are… passable, I'm quite surprised in a good way!

At night, when she sought refuge in her bed, tears often flowed uncontrollably. The pain of being excluded, rejected, and ignored gnawed at her from within. She tried to convince herself that it would eventually pass, that the others would forget about her, but with each passing day, the weight became harder to bear. In the morning, she put on a neutral mask, trying to keep her head held high, but the emotional exhaustion always caught up with her. She felt trapped in a spiral of suffering, unable to confide in anyone, having no friends. This insidious isolation, this venom slowly dripped by those around her, was destroying her little by little.

There was no respite, not even in moments when she should have felt safe, not even in the silence of the library. Evangeline spent a great deal of time there, reading, studying, and trying to clear her mind. But the weight of the stares and judgements followed her everywhere. The memories of those smirking smiles, those glances exchanged over her head, were etched into her mind, impossible to forget. They haunted her, and she couldn’t help but recall her daily life at Beauxbâtons, a life she would have preferred to forget and never experience again. Books, however, were still the most effective way she had found to distract herself. As soon as classes ended, she would rush to the library to find solace among the shelves of books. The familiar smell of paper made her feel safe, far from the judgements and mockery.

(Very small extract from what I'm still writing. Another extract I've post)