#bear with me. I'm very stoned | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

stylesispunk · 13 days ago

Text

The soldier in the armour | part iv

Marcus Acacius x f!reader

masterlist | previous chapter | next chapter

summary: Acacius put his plan on march, starting by sending you away with a sealing promise of returning back to you, but you cannot bear the thought of him fighting alone, and some plans are destroyed.

wc: 7k (lazy)

warnings: angst, age gap, mentions of miscarriage, blood, violence against women, power imbalance, kissing without consent, mentions of death. The events of this chapter happen on the same night.

a/n: Sorry for being so lazy about writing and updating lately. I'm just a teacher on her summer break. This one will be intense. Reblogs and comments are always appreciated. Happy reading. 💌

dividers by @/saradika-graphics

"Hold my hand," Acacius said, extending his arm toward you. You were sitting by the fountain, feeding the fish. The last couple of days had been torture for you, and he wanted nothing more than to shower you with acts of love from the deepest part of his heart.

You looked up, your eyes meeting his. There was a softness in his gaze, a quiet determination that melted the tension in your chest. The cool breeze rustled the leaves above, and for a brief moment, the world seemed to pause.

Reluctantly, you placed your hand in his, feeling the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. He gave a gentle squeeze, as if trying to transfer some unspoken strength to you.

"Come," he whispered, his voice a balm against the chaos of your thoughts. "Let me take you somewhere…”

You hesitated, glancing back at the rippling water, watching the fish dart beneath the surface. But the pull of his presence was stronger. You stood, your fingers still entwined with his, and allowed him to lead you away from the weight of the past few days.

He led you through a narrow corridor you didn’t recognize, its walls lined with ivy that crept in through tiny cracks. At the very end, hidden behind a heavy wooden door, Acacius paused. He glanced back at you, a small, knowing smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

“No one else knows about this place,” he murmured, his voice low, almost conspiratorial. “It’s just for us.”

He pushed the door open with a soft creak, revealing a hidden courtyard tucked away from the rest of the villa. It was small, intimate, overgrown with wildflowers and shaded by an ancient olive tree whose twisted branches reached out like protective arms. The air smelled of lavender and sun-warmed stone, and the only sounds were the gentle rustle of leaves and the distant song of cicadas at dawn.

Acacius turned to you, his expression softening. “I come here when I need to feel... whole again.” His thumb brushed over your knuckles, lingering. “And I thought maybe, just maybe, it could help you too.”

There was a strange tone on his voice, as if he was lingering to your presence before slipping away from you, but you decided to ignore the nagging feeling in the pit of your stomach.

"I know you're worried” you whispered, looking up at him to meet his gaze, smiling softly “but I’m gonna be fine. I’ll recover from this someday.”

“Can I confess you something?” He asked almost ashamed of the question

You nodded, inviting him to speak his truth.

"This is embarrassing for a general but I'm really scared."He confessed, “I…I have someone to lose this time"

Your breath hitched and sudden wave of anxiety crept into your bones.

"You won't lose me" you reassured, caressing his checks with your fingertips.

"From all the battles I fought. Falling in love with you came easily to me...I thought it was going to be difficult for a man like me to be deserving of someone like you.

"This sounds like a goodbye and I don't like that tone in your voice." You said, voice breaking at the thought.

“You know things could go wrong-“

“They will not.” You interrupted, reassuring him once again.

“Allowing myself to know you and love you has been the bravest thing I've ever done," he whispered, his voice trembling just enough for you to hear the depth of his fear, and his love.

Before you could respond, his hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you gently but urgently toward him. His lips met yours in a kiss that was both fierce and tender, as if he were pouring every feeling inside on it, every hidden feeling into that single, breath-stealing moment. The world around you seemed to dissolve, the rustling leaves, the distant cicadas, all fading into the background as the warmth of his mouth ignited something deep within you.

Your heart raced, the anxiety still humming in the edges of your mind, but his touch grounded you, as always. You let your fingers trail through his hair, pulling him closer, as if anchoring him to this promise you both silently made.

You won't lose me. We won’t lose each other.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, both of you breathless, hearts pounding in the same rhythm, at the same time. His eyes searched yours, as if trying to memorize this moment, to etch it into his soul.

Then, without warning, he kissed you again, this time with a raw urgency that stole the air left from your lungs. His hands slid from your jaw down to your waist, gripping you as though he could mold your bodies into one. His fingertips dug into your skin, tracing every curve, every inch he could reach, as if committing the feel of you to memory.

You responded in kind, your hands roaming over his shoulders, his back, clutching at the fabric of his tunic like it was the only thing tethering you to reality. The heat between you was electric, a fire burning bright against the looming shadow of what was to come.

When he finally pulled back again, his breath was ragged, his lips lingering against yours for a fleeting second longer. His hands framed your face now, thumbs brushing softly against your cheeks in contrast to the urgency of moments before. His gaze was heavy, filled with a thousand words he couldn’t seem to say.

He leaned in, pressing one lingering kiss to your forehead, his lips warm against your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime." He whispered, nosing your neck, savoring the taste of your skin.

"My heart, my body and my soul belong to you in every lifetime. Since the day you saved me from the bathtub and sword you would love me." You whispered the same words back because you meant them.

He smiled against your neck, feeling his eyes watering already. For a man of a thousand battles these shows of affection tended to seen as a sign of weakness. But by your side he learnt about the vulnerability that it came when you loved someone.

You smelled like calm lavender, and your souls interviewed in an unbreakable thread destined to meet in every single lifetime.

You were his person; the best Rome had ever given him back for all the duty and sacrifice. It broke his heart to send you away.

He didn’t fear death anymore, but not seeing you again broke him.

Acacius helped you up, his strong arm supporting you, your heart still ached with the lingering sensation of his words, his love, his devotion. You walked together, the world outside the villa seeming quieter. His hand remained gently wrapped around yours.

When you reached back to the villa, the air felt heavy, as if something was waiting for you there. The grand doors opened to reveal Lucilla standing near the font, her hands trembling slightly as she stood motionless, her gaze distant. Her expression was clouded with worry, yet there was an undeniable sorrow in her eyes that you couldn’t ignore.

“Mother, what’s wrong?” you asked, stepping forward, concern flooding your chest as you glanced between her and Acacius.

Lucilla turned her head slowly, her eyes brimming with tears.

"They are here" she said, painfully ignoring your questions as she looked at Acacius.

"It's time" he said, painfully, avoiding looking at you for a moment, then he glanced at you "Look. They are some of my men. They are here to take you out-“

"I don't want to leave" you protested, coming to Lucilla, "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me"

You stepped back, your heart twisting painfully as you listened to Acacius, walking to your mother.

"I don't want to leave," you protested again, your voice trembling. You reached for her, the distance between you growing wider with every passing second. "Mother, please don't do this again. Come with me."

Lucilla’s eyes shimmered with unshed tears, and for a moment, she looked as though she might give in. But the sorrow on her face deepened, and she shook her head gently. "I cannot, my dear. I failed Lucius once." Her voice cracked as she spoke his name, a deep, haunting sadness settling over her. "I won’t fail you too. Not again."

You felt the sting of her words like a dagger in your chest. She was leaving you, just like she had left him. The memories of her absence in the darkest moments of your life, when you were fighting for survival, flashed before your eyes, and the thought of repeating that same pain was unbearable.

"So, you're failing me now?" you asked, the sharpness in your tone betraying the hurt you felt. Your breath was ragged as you held back tears, frustration and confusion bubbling up inside you.

Lucilla stepped forward, her hands trembling as she reached for you, but she stopped just short of touching you. "Oh no," she whispered, shaking her head. "I cannot bear the thought of losing you to this. If you're away, Geta won’t be able to use you as a tool against Acacius or me. I can't risk you being taken from me as he was."

The words stung, but in them, you realized the depth of her fear. She wasn’t abandoning you, she was trying to protect you, to keep you safe in a world where everything felt uncertain and dangerous.

"But I don’t want to be safe without you," you said softly, your voice breaking. "I can't go alone.”

Lucilla looked at you, her gaze softening for a brief moment, but the fear in her eyes remained. "I love you too much," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "And I can't watch you suffer here.”

Acacius stood behind you, his hand gently resting on your shoulder. His presence was a steady anchor in the storm of emotions threatening to overwhelm you. He knew how hard this was for you, but his silence spoke volumes. He understood what it meant to love and lose, and now, he was offering you something that felt like the only way forward.

Lucilla’s voice quivered as she took a step back, her hands clenched at her sides. "I cannot go with you... but I will wait for you here. And I will pray that one day you come back to me. That we both do."

You felt as though your heart was being torn in two—torn between the woman who had given you life and the man who had become your lifeline. The conflict swirled in your chest, but all you could do was nod, unable to find the right words.

"I love you," you whispered softly to her, your voice breaking as the tears finally fell.

Lucilla gave you a sad, bittersweet smile. "I love you too, my darling. Always."

You turned to Acacius, your heart sinking at the pained expression that crossed his face as his gaze shifted from you to the three men who had appeared in the distance. His posture stiffened, his eyes narrowing as they approached with purposeful strides.

The moment felt heavy, like the air itself was holding its breath. His soldiers had arrived. The plan was set in motion. The urgency of the situation weighed down on both of you, but there was something else, something unspoken in the way Acacius held himself. His pain, too, was palpable. As much as he had sworn to protect you, he knew what this moment meant. The time for goodbyes was closing in, and there was no turning back.

"Acacius..." you whispered, your voice trembling as you reached for his hand. But he stepped back slightly, his jaw tightening as his men neared.

He glanced over his shoulder at you, his eyes full of regret and determination. "You need to go. Now."

The men stopped in front of him, their faces unreadable but their posture betraying the tension of the moment. Acacius addressed them with a tone that brooked no argument, his voice firm but clipped.

"Prepare the horses," he commanded, and one of them nodded before heading off to carry out his orders.

You looked at Acacius, pain flickering in your chest as you realized that the next few moments would change everything. The world you had known was slipping away, and there was no going back to the life you had before.

"You’re leaving me, aren’t you?" you asked, the words slipping from your lips before you could stop them.

Acacius looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, but his gaze softened when he saw the hurt in your eyes. "No. I’m not leaving you." His voice was low and full of certainty, though there was a storm of emotions raging behind those words. "I’ll never leave you. But I need you to trust me now."

You nodded, though the uncertainty in your chest remained. His men were getting ready, and you knew that there was no time left to hesitate.

"Promise me you’ll come to get me back," you said quietly, the words more of a plea than a command.

Acacius stepped closer, his hand brushing the side of your face, his thumb tenderly tracing over your skin. "I swear," he said, his voice raw and filled with emotion. "I’ll come back for you. I’ll do everything in my power to make sure we’re together again."

The words were like a lifeline, but the storm of emotions raging in your chest made it hard to hold on to them. You wanted to believe him more than anything, but the world was so unpredictable, and you knew better than to expect anything in these dark times.

As Acacius turned to give orders to his men, you felt the weight of the world crashing down on you, the finality of this moment settling into your bones. You wanted to run to him, to beg him to let you stay, but you couldn’t, because deep down, you knew what he was doing was necessary.

This was bigger than the two of you.

Acacius cupped your face once more, his eyes soft but heavy with the weight of what was to come. He leaned in, his lips brushing against yours in a gentle, lingering kiss, one that spoke of promises and unspoken fears. His touch was tender, like it was the last thing he could give you before everything changed.

"Be safe," he whispered against your lips, his breath warm and full of urgency. "No matter what happens, remember that I will always love you."

Your heart ached as his words sank in, the depth of his devotion resonating through every fiber of your being. You nodded, though your throat tightened, unable to find the words to express what you felt. His love, his promise, were everything you had left to hold on to in this fleeting moment.

He stepped back slightly, his hand still resting on your cheek, and without another word, he helped you onto the horse. His movements were swift and precise, his touch strong but careful as he steadied you in the saddle. His gaze never left yours, filled with a quiet desperation, as though he could somehow will the situation to change with just his stare.

As he stood next to the horse, his hand resting on the reins, he gave a final, lingering look, as though imprinting you into his memory. Then, with a slow exhale, he spoke again, his voice filled with finality.

"Trust in me," he said, his eyes intense. "No matter what happens, trust that I will find a way back to you."

His men began to move in the background, preparing to take you away. Acacius placed one last kiss on your forehead, a soft, lingering touch that felt like it was marking the end of a chapter. The taste of his lips, the warmth of his presence, remained with you, even as he pulled away and nodded to his soldiers.

With a final glance, he stepped back, his face a mixture of sorrow and determination. His hand reached out toward you one last time, as if he wanted to pull you into his arms, to hold you just a moment longer. But he didn’t. He couldn’t.

"Go," he said quietly, the word almost a command, but it carried so much emotion that it cut deep.

As the men took the reins of your horse and started moving you away, you cast one last look over your shoulder. Acacius stood there, still watching you, his face a mask of stoic resolve but his eyes betraying the pain that he had hidden behind his duty.

And then, as you were carried further away, the world around you began to blur. The sound of horses’ hooves pounding against the earth, the rustling of the wind, it all faded as you focused on the one thing that remained clear.

As the path beyond you seemed to haunt you, you tightened the cloak around your shoulders, its coarse fabric doing little to shield you from the chill that seeped into your bones. Every step away from the villa felt heavier and suffocating, each one pulling you farther from Acacius, your mother, and Lucius. The road stretched ahead, but your mind remained trapped in the past, tangled in memories and regrets.

You couldn’t shake the image of Acacius’s eyes, the way they softened when he looked at you, or the feel of his lips pressed against your forehead. The smell of lavender on his neck that seemed to lullaby you into sleep every time he wrapped his strong arms around you. Your heart ached thinking about your mother, her face etched with sorrow and strength as she pushed you to safety. And Lucius, your brother, the rightful emperor of Rome, forced to live as a slave under a name that was never his.

As Acacius's men guided you through the winding paths, the weight of your separation grew unbearable. You were being secured by Acacius’s army, hidden away from the dangers that loomed, but it felt more like a prison than protection. You were trapped in the middle of something larger than yourself, and the distance only amplified the helplessness curling in your chest.

Meanwhile, back at the villa, Acacius stood frozen, his gaze fixed on the direction you had disappeared. His heart clenched painfully, the hollow ache of your absence settling deep within him. A single tear escaped down his cheek, betraying the stoic facade he tried to maintain. The emptiness in his chest felt insurmountable, as if a piece of him had been torn away.

You were the Achilles heel on his life, he couldn’t bear the thought of you being away from his protection.

Lucilla, seeing the turmoil etched across his face, stepped forward and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “She’s strong, like her father” she whispered, her voice steady despite the tears glistening in her own eyes. “And you will find your way back to her.”

Acacius’s jaw tightened, his hand coming to rest over Lucilla’s in silent acknowledgment. The touch sent shivers down his spine; it wasn’t love but understanding. The both of you letting go your heart away.

His eyes never wavered from the path you had taken, his heart silently vowing that no matter what, he would find you again.

Beneath the cloak, you knew you hadn’t far away from the villa. Just one bold movement and you could go back.

There was a weight that became heavier to bear. Acacius would risk his life to free an empire from its tyranny, and perhaps the power would go back to your family while your mother would get stuck in the middle and Lucius real identity would display.

Suddenly, the weight of it all became unbearable. Without thinking, you yanked on the reins, bringing the horse to a skidding halt. The men guarding you shouted in alarm, but their voices were distant echoes compared to the roaring in your ears. You leapt off the horse, your feet hitting the ground hard, and before they could react, you were running, running back towards the villa, towards the people you couldn’t abandon.

"Stop! Come back!" Acacius's men called after you, their voices laced with desperation. But you didn’t listen. You couldn’t. You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold.

you couldn’t turn your back on them. Not now. Now after all.

You were stronger than that. You were the daughter of Maximus Decimus, a man of honor.

You wouldn’t let them risk their lives while you hid away, blind to whatever horrors might unfold. The wind tore at your cloak, your breath coming in ragged gasps as your feet pounded the dirt path. Every step closer to the villa felt like shedding a layer of fear, replaced by a fierce, unyielding resolve.

The villa loomed in the distance; it brought a strange comfort to your heart. Your mind raced faster than your legs, what if you were too late? What if Acacius or your mother were already in danger? The thought spurred you on, ignoring the burning in your lungs and the aching in your legs.

Behind you, the shouts of Acacius’s men grew fainter, their figures shrinking against the horizon. But your heart was set, you belonged there, in the thick of it, facing whatever fate awaited alongside those you loved. As the gates of the villa came into view, your heart pounded not from exhaustion, but from the sheer force of your determination.

You were almost there.

"Acacius!" you shouted, breathless as you reached the entrance. As soon as he came into view, you crashed into him, and he caught you effortlessly, his arms wrapping around you in an embrace that felt like home.

"What are you doing here?" His voice was hushed, desperate, his hands moving to cradle your face, as if he needed to be sure you were real.

"I can't-" you gasped out, struggling to steady your breath. "Don't ask me to run away while you stay here. Please, don’t."

His fingers traced your jaw, his forehead pressing against yours as he exhaled shakily. "I can’t put you in danger," he whispered. "I won’t."

You closed your eyes, your breath mingling with his. His warmth surrounded you, grounding you, but the ache in your chest only grew stronger.

"How?" you whispered, searching his eyes. "How can I leave when you will be here fighting?

Acacius’s jaw clenched. "You know what will happen if you stay—"

"And you know what will happen if I go!" You pulled back slightly, forcing him to see the determination burning in your eyes. "I grew up in a world where privilege was handed to me until it wasn’t. My heart was humble until it wasn’t. I never realized how greedy I could be until I met you, until my heart started beating for you. I want everything that comes from you—your words, your breath, your smile, your heart, you. And if there is a chance, they take you from me, then I’d rather meet the spirits myself than live in a world where you don’t exist."

His breath hitched, and for the first time, you saw something break in him. A vulnerability so raw it threatened to consume you both. His hands trembled against your cheeks, his thumbs brushing away the tears you hadn’t realized had fallen.

"Please," he pleaded, his voice barely above a whisper. "Don’t make this harder for me."

Your heart twisted painfully. "Then don’t make it harder for me, either. You already know how voiceless women are here. Let me make my choice for once."

His eyes darkened with conflict, with love, with fear. And then, without another word, he crushed his lips against yours. it was a desperate, aching plea. A promise. A surrender.

When he pulled away, his breath was ragged, his hands still cupping your face as though afraid you’d disappear.

"Then stay," he whispered. "And if the gods are kind, we will survive this together."

But you were afraid the gods had never been kind to lovers like you.

Lucilla watched the exchange in silence before stepping forward. "My child," she said gently, "I know you are willing to risk your life for those you love. But this is not a fight you can win with your heart.”

You turned to her, desperation burning in your eyes. "I know this villa better than anyone. I grew up here. I know every passage, every hidden corridor. If I can get to Lucius, I can free him. We can hide. We can escape and Acacius and his army will free Rome."

"No," Acacius said immediately, shaking his head. "Absolutely not."

"He’s my brother!" you argued.

"And what happens when you get caught?" Lucilla’s voice was softer, but no less firm. "You think Geta or Caracalla will show mercy to you? He’ll use you against us, just as he always intended."

Acacius tightened his grip on you. "You are the only thing keeping me from turning this entire city to dust. If something happens to you, I won’t stop. I won’t care about the cost."

You swallowed hard, your chest rising and falling with each rapid breath. "Then let me help you. Let me help Lucius."

"The best way to help is to stay safe," Lucilla insisted. "We will find a way, Acacius-“

“Lucius will refuse Acaciu’s help.” You interrupted, “He took the city he was in, but I’m his sister.”

Acacius's jaw tightened, his eyes dark with frustration and the fear it came when danger seemed to follow you. He shook his head. "That’s exactly why you can’t go. You think he’ll just follow you? Lucius is stubborn. He won’t leave. He won’t abandon his pride, even for you."

"He will if I make him see reason," you pressed, your voice trembling with conviction you wanted to believe. "If I remind him who he is, what he stands for. He’ll listen to me."

Lucilla exhaled sharply, stepping between you and Acacius, her presence like a steady force in the eye of the storm. "And if he doesn’t? If he refuses, what then?”

You flinched at her words. The weight of this pressed down on you, but you refused to let it break you. "Then at least I’ll have tried," you whispered. "At least I won’t sit in hiding while the people I love fight for their lives."

Acacius turned away from you abruptly, running a hand through his hair, his breath ragged. "Damn it," he muttered under his breath before spinning back toward you. "Do you even hear yourself? Do you know what you’re asking me to do?" His voice cracked, raw and unguarded. "You’re asking me to send you straight into the lion’s den. To just…juts let you walk into danger while I stand back and watch."

"I’m asking you to trust me," you said, your voice fierce despite the tears burning your throat. "I have spent my whole life being protected, shielded from the ugliness of this world. But I am not some delicate thing to be tucked away. If we are to have any future at all, we must take risks."

Acacius closed his eyes, as if trying to drown out your words, to quiet the war inside him. Lucilla placed a hand on his arm, grounding him. "She is her father's daughter," she murmured, her gaze heavy with understanding. "You cannot change her mind when it is already set."

He let out a shaky breath, his hands curling into fists before he finally looked at you again. "If you go, you do not go alone."

Your breath hitched. "Acacius-"

"You do not go alone," he repeated, his voice leaving no room for argument. "I will not let you face this without protection."

Lucilla nodded. "I know someone who can get you into the cells unnoticed. But you must understand-this is your one chance. If something goes wrong, there will be no second attempt. No coming back for you."

Your heart pounded as the full weight of the decision settled in. There was no turning back now.

"Then I will not fail," you promised, meeting Acacius’s gaze.

But even as you said the words, you knew that fate was a cruel, unpredictable thing.

“I will wait for you at the end of the dungeon” He explained, “Once you free Lucius, both of you, especially you will come and going to go away. Then when tomorrow came, I’ll get everything settle for what’s coming.”

Lucilla’s expression was unreadable, but there was something in her eyes something like resignation. "We don't have time to argue anymore," she said finally. "If you're going to do this, you must go now."

Acacius stepped closer, his hands gripping your arms as if he could anchor you to him. His touch burned, searing into your skin, branding you with the weight of his worry. "Promise me," he murmured. "Promise me that no matter what happens, you won’t hesitate. The moment Lucius is free, you run."

You swallowed hard, nodding, though you weren’t sure if you could keep that promise.

Lucilla moved toward the entrance, glancing over her shoulder. "I will send word to the one who will take you inside. Wait for him by the servants' passage near the western wall. And keep your head down."

Acacius leaned in, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath warm against your lips. "Be careful," he whispered. "I need you to come back to me."

You lingered there for a moment, memorizing the feeling of his hands on you, the way his voice softened when he spoke to you, the way he looked at you as if you were something worth fighting for.

"Mia vita" he called out, stopping you on your tracks to kiss you softly, the pulled back slightly “Please don't let this to be our last kiss"

"We still have a life to live together" you smiled against his lips, peeking his lips once more "at peace this time"

"I will find you" he promised, peeking your lips once again, savoring every single second of this. "I'll be waiting for you at the end of the dungeon."

You nodded, feeling shivers down your spine. He kissed your lips again as if couldn’t let go because of the fear, tasting the sweet flavor of fruits on them, lingering to the feeling that in a few hours he would free Rome from the tyranny and escape with you to a happy ending, a happy life.

"Be careful, love" he whispered as you walked from his grasp.

Then, with one final look, you turned and disappeared into the shadows.

And as you did, Acacius stood still, watching you leave, his fists clenched at his sides.

He had never felt so powerless.

The night stretched long and cold as you moved through the villa’s outer corridors, keeping close to the stone walls. Every shadow felt like a threat waiting to cut you in half, every sound a warning. Your heart pounded in your chest, but you forced yourself forward. Your mother’s contact was waiting near the western wall as promised, a hooded figure who barely looked at you before motioning for you to follow.

"This way," he whispered, leading you through a narrow passage. "The guards are fewer tonight, but that won’t last long."

You nodded, pressing yourself deeper into the cloak wrapped around your shoulders. The passage led downward into the lower levels of the coliseum, where the scent of damp stone and burning torches thickened the air. With each step, the reality of what you were about to do settled heavier in your chest.

Finally, the man halted near a rusted iron gate, peering around the corner before motioning for you to stop. "Beyond here, you’re on your own. You already know where the cells, be fast my lady.”

You exhaled slowly, steadying yourself before slipping through the gate. The corridor was dimly lit, flickering torchlight casting shadows along the stone walls. You kept low, moving carefully. Every instinct screamed at you to hurry, but you couldn’t afford mistakes.

Then you saw him.

Lucius sat in the farthest cell, his head down, his hands bound in front of him. His tunic was dirtied and torn; his face shadowed with exhaustion. But he was still alive.

"Lucius," you whispered urgently, pressing yourself against the bars. His head snapped up, eyes widening at the sight of you.

"By the gods," he breathed. "What are you doing here?"

"Freeing you," you said, already fumbling with the lock. "We don’t have much time, Acacius has a plan, but we need to go now."

Lucius let out a short, breathless laugh. "Acacius? And here I thought you had come to your senses and abandoned him.”

You shot him a glare, your fingers working as quickly as possible. "Do you want to fight about this, or do you want to walk out of here alive?"

Before he could respond, footsteps echoed down the hall. Your breath caught.

The guards were coming.

You barely had time to think. With trembling fingers, you worked at the lock, gritting your teeth as the iron refused to give. Lucius shifted impatiently behind the bars, his gaze darting toward the approaching footsteps.

"Hurry," he muttered.

"I know," you hissed, forcing yourself to focus. The crude metal bit into your skin, but finally, with a sharp click, the lock gave way. You got the door open, and Lucius stepped out, shaking the stiffness from his limbs.

"We need to go," you whispered.

Together, you slipped into the shadows, pressing yourselves against the cold stone walls. The guards were close now, their voices carrying down the corridor. You gripped Lucius’s wrist, pulling him forward as you sprinted through the winding path of the dungeon.

Your breaths came fast and shallow, your heart hammering with every turn. The torches flickered wildly in the drafty halls, casting distorted shapes that sent chills up your spine.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, you reached the end of the dungeon, the meeting place Acacius had promised.

But he wasn��t there.

You came to a sudden stop, chest heaving as your eyes darted around the empty space.

"Where is he?" Lucius whispered harshly.

You didn’t answer. He should be here.

He said he would be here. You thought.

A cold feeling crept up your spine. Something was wrong.

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Think. Think faster. Acacius wasn’t here. That meant something had gone wrong. That meant-

“We have to move,” you whispered, gripping Lucius’s arm.

He gave you a sharp look, but didn’t argue. You took the lead, slipping through the dimly lit corridor, your body tense, ears straining for any sound. The dungeon air was thick with dampness, every breath heavy in your chest.

Acacius had told you to wait. But waiting was a death sentence now.

He could be in trouble. He could be dead.

No. You forced the thought away. Acacius was strong. He was waiting for you somewhere else. He had to be.

Lucius kept pace beside you, his voice low and urgent. “Where are we going?”

“Out,” you said, scanning the hallway. “I know another way.”

A narrow servant’s passage was carved into the farthest wall, one you had used as a child to sneak out when the world inside these walls had felt too suffocating. You yanked open the hidden door, pushing Lucius through before slipping inside yourself. The stone closed behind you, sealing you both in darkness.

The passage was narrow, forcing you to move single file. Your fingers trailed the rough stone as you navigated through the twisting tunnel, the air cool and stale. You could hear Lucius’s uneven breathing behind you, but neither of you spoke.

You reached the end and pressed against the wooden panel that led to the outside. For a long moment, you hesitated.

If Acacius wasn’t here, it meant something had shifted in the plan. But you had no time to figure out what.

You had to keep moving.

Bracing yourself, you pushed the door open and stepped into the night.

The night air was a fleeting whisper of freedom before it was ripped away.

The moment you and Lucius stepped beyond the hidden passage, torches flared to life, illuminating the ring of imperial guards waiting for you. The glint of their drawn swords was the only warning you had before rough hands seized you.

Lucius struggled, his fury a silent storm beside you, but he was outnumbered. A soldier slammed the hilt of his sword into his stomach, and he collapsed to his knees, gasping for breath.

“Lucius!” you shouted, lunging toward him, but another set of hands wrenched you back.

A grizzled guard stepped forward; his expression smug beneath his bronze helmet. “Did you really think you could slip away unnoticed?” he sneered.

You twisted against their grip, but they held you firm. “Where is Acacius?” you demanded. “What have you done to him?”

The guard chuckled darkly. “Worry for yourself, little dove.” He leaned in, his breath rank against your cheek. “Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason.”

Your stomach twisted. Geta. He knew.

The guards yanked you and Lucius apart, dragging him in the opposite direction. He thrashed violently, eyes burning with desperation as they pulled him away from you.

“Stay strong,” he shouted. “Don’t give them what they want!”

Then he was gone.

You fought harder, but it was useless. The last thing you saw before they forced you forward was the blood-red banners of the empire swaying in the cold night air.

The throne room was suffocating with tension, the air thick with the scent of oil and burning torches. Acacius and Lucilla stood before the imperial dais, their bodies rigid as Emperor Geta lounged with lazy arrogance in his gilded chair. Caracalla stood beside him, his fingers curling and uncurling as if barely restraining his temper.

The moment Acacius learned you had been captured, something inside him had snapped. His presence alone carried a storm, his jaw clenched, fists curled at his sides, the veins in his neck straining with suppressed fury.

“Where is she?” Acacius demanded, his voice like thunder cracking through the hall.

Geta smirked, swirling the wine in his goblet. “Who?” he mused, feigning innocence. “Oh, you mean your wife.” He sighed dramatically. “A shame, really. I expected more from you, Acacius. But in the end, even the great general is brought to his knees for a woman.”

Acacius took a menacing step forward, only for Lucilla to press a warning hand against his arm. “You do not want to do this,” she whispered, though even her voice carried the edge of a threat.

Caracalla’s lip curled; his rage barely restrained. “You made a mistake, Acacius. You should have fled with her when you had the chance.”

“I will get her back,” Acacius growled. His eyes snapped to Geta, cold and unrelenting. “Emperor Geta, torture me if you want, but don't dare to lay a finger on my wife.”

Geta’s expression darkened at that word.

His knuckles went white around the goblet before he set it down with deliberate slowness. “But I will,” he said, his voice dangerously smooth. He walked towards Acacius, stepping closer, his grin cruel. “Now, I’m going to see her.”

Acacius lunged, but the guards were already between them, forcing him back as Geta strode from the room. The moment the doors slammed shut behind him, Acacius let out a roar of frustration. He whirled, striking one of the marble pillars with his fist hard enough to crack the stone.

Acacius’s chest heaved with each ragged breath, but when he turned to face Lucilla next to him, his eyes were filled with something worse than fury.

Desperation.

His hands clenched into fists again. “I will kill him. I swear it.”

The cell was damp and smelled of rust and decay. You hit the ground hard as the guards shoved you inside, the impact jolting through your knees and elbows. The cold stone bit into your skin, but you barely felt it, your mind was reeling, heart hammering in your chest.

"You should have stayed where you belonged," one of the guards sneered from the other side of the iron bars. "Emperor Geta will not be fond of you after this treason."

You lifted your head, eyes burning with defiance. "I still have you to make him beg for mercy."

The guard scoffed but did not reply. He only smirked, slamming the barred door shut with a loud clang before disappearing down the corridor, his footsteps fading into the darkness.

You exhaled sharply, forcing yourself to sit upright. Every part of you ached, but pain was the least of your concerns.

You exhaled shakily, pressing a hand to your face as tears threatened to spill. But you wouldn’t cry.

Instead, you allowed yourself a moment to gather your strength. Tomorrow was coming, and with it, the arena and whatever fate awaited Acacius. Whatever happened, you wouldn’t let Geta break you.

Then, a sound.

Footsteps. Slow. Measured.

A chill ran down your spine.

You knew who it was before you even saw him.

The door creaked open, and there he stood.

Emperor Geta.

The first thing he did as he took glance of you was grabbing your face forcefully with his hand, forcing you to spare him a glance. He wouldn't even dream of seeing you like this, is disbelief, with your hair a mess, and bloody. You weren't made for a life like this, but now under these conditions, this was the closest he had come to have you.

"Escaping with that slave, my dear lady? You marrying Acacius felt less insulting than this." He said, looking dead into your shining orbits.

"Marrying you would an insult to myself. I would rather eat shit than be tied to you." You spatted.

Geta's smile widened as a cruel laugh escaped his lips as his studied your features. Your before soft skin seemed dirty by drops of blood and dirt. You were a delicate doll, but now smashed and crumbled.

Geta’s expression twisted, his smugness evaporating in an instant. His jaw clenched, and his eyes burned with rage. Before you could react, his hand lashed out, the sharp crack of the slap ringing through the chamber.

The force of the blow snapped your head to the side, and you stumbled, catching yourself against the floor. Your cheek stung, the pain radiating hot and angry, but it was nothing compared to the cold fury swelling in your chest.

Geta loomed over you, his breath heavy, his hand still trembling from the strike. “You will not speak to me that way,” he hissed, his voice low and dangerous. “You forget who holds your life in his hands. You forget who I am. I'm the emperor and you're just a prisoner granted privileges because of your mother and Acacius" his face got close to you, "but now you're a mere slave accused of treason."

You spit on his face. The anger and loathing consuming like a fire burning your body.

Geta took his hand to his face, cleaning your spit with disgust written on his face. You had ended with his patience and he couldn't bear it anymore.

Just a few hours ago you had been secured on Acacius big arms, surrounded by the faint scene of laurel and lavender that seemed to calmed you down.

Now the stink of dirt and humidity rusted your nostrils. You wanted to close your eyes and feel the lavender on your nose, Acacius lips on your temple. You wanted him to save you, you were pleading the gods.

"Please stop this...let me see him" you begged, your voice broken. "Don't hurt him."

Lifting your gaze to see if by chance there would be a tiny bit of sympathy dancing on his eyes, you face the coldest gaze you had ever seen.

"Acacius' life is on my will, your mother's...even that beloved gladiator of yours." He got closer once again, looking directly to your eyes, you felt his wine breath on your face, "Test my patience once again, my lady and I will snap my finger like this" he snapped his fingers in front of you, getting closer to your lips you can almost feel his on your and it felt repulsive "and all of them will be dead. All of them!"

You gritted in protest, the repulsion of his touch filling you with an instinctual fear that made your skin crawl. The air between you felt suffocating, and the words he spoke echoed in your mind like a distant nightmare, gnawing at the edges of your sanity.

You tried to pull away, but his grip tightened, forcing you to remain still as his lips lingered too close to yours. The stench of wine and bitterness clung to him, every part of him an invasion to your thoughts, to your soul.

"Don’t you dare," you hissed, your voice trembling but filled with defiance. You refused to let him have the satisfaction of breaking you.

“You have no idea what I could give you,” Geta began, his voice low and smooth, carrying the weight of his authority. “Power, wealth, freedom to rule by my side as my wife. Everything you’ve ever dreamed of could be yours if only you’d open your eyes and choose me.”

You hold your gaze, your heart pounding in your chest as his lips pressed forcefully against yours. The taste of wine and greed made your stomach churn, and every inch of your body screamed in protest. This was not love. This was a sick obsession, an attempt to break your will and twist your bones. You clenched your fists, refusing to let him see the fear creeping at the edges of your resolve.

"I would rather die than choose you," you spat, your voice full of venom.

“I don’t care what you want” he said, pulling away just to stand up, smiling cruelly down at you on the ground. "Chain her to the wall." He ordered the guards

Your despair filled the dirty dungeons "No, please. Don't" you squirmed under the men's hold "Let me go!"

The cold stone wall bit into your skin as the guards’ iron chains wrapped around your wrists, pulling you taut against the damp, dark dungeon. The echo of your cries was swallowed by the silence of the place, but inside, your fury burned with an intensity you had never known. You clenched your teeth, fighting the tears that threatened to fall, determined to stay strong.

"Goodnight, my princess," Geta’s mocking voice lingered in the air long after he was gone, a cruel reminder of his power over you.

Your screams followed geta's steps as he walked away from you. You were left there to drown in your own tears as you curse and whatever plan his Machiavellian mind has.

Your fingers tightened into fists, nails digging into your palms as you whispered a curse under your breath, a spell woven from the ancient words passed down through history. Soon the future of Rome would be defined and you were going to take charge of it.

Tags 💌: (if you want to be removed feel free to tell me. I'm super shy when it comes to tags. By the way I couldn't tag everyone)

@greenwitchfromthewoods @joeldjarin @picketniffler @sptbear @heartpatch @immyowndefender @nobodyssfool @behomewhenthestreetlightscomeon @idkwhylou @jasminedragoon @ro-nahime-things @hduuc56 @mamustreads @itsafullmoon @tuquoquebrute @ccmoonshine @fvispunk @here-briefly @elisha-chloe @geekandbooknerd @guelyury @dlwrish @legoemma @scrappyskin @orcasoul @kluvspedro @onlythehobi @stormseyer @spideybv28 @spacelatinos4life @hduuc56 @foledean @negrita2345 @capswife @missadangel @spencercmlover @leahwwinchester @areyoutheretoru @nosebeers @discowitchyy

#marcus acacias x reader #marcus acacius fanfiction #marcus acacius x f!reader #marcus acacius x you #marcus acacius x reader #general marcus acacius #marcus acacius fic #marcus acacius #gladiator 2 fic #gladiator 2 #gladiator 2 fanfiction #pedro pascal #marcus acacius smut #general acacius x you #general acacius

310 notes · View notes

pinescent-and-gingerbread · 6 months ago

Text

✧Night Moths

✦ Pairing: Arthur Morgan x Fem!Reader ✦ Summary: Arthur has a simple task to do, searching for any lead possible at the Mayor's party. Only problem? You also have a job of your own. Based on “The Gilded Cage” ✦ Warnings/tags: guns, strangers to…sinners?, SMUT 18+, reader is part of a St Denis gang, cover names used at first, smoking, Arthur is extremely horny and a little rough with you (you pushed his limits), cursing, outdoor sex, fingering, tits play, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v ✦ Words: 9,8k ✦ a/n: YES. I KNOW. This is super long. I have absolutely zero excuse. I feel like this is my best piece yet, but I'm so nervous about posting it! Once again, a big thank you to the incredible @zae-heeyyy, my jedi master, my confidence-booster and patience Queen, who beta-read this big baby and helped me so much with so many things, as always. (Go check her blog I'm begging you)

Glasses are twinkling and clinking all around you. Words are spoken, laughs are let out, champagne drank.

You're leaning against one of the stoned garden walls, fancy decor of the Mayor's house, the perfectly cut bushes looking just as fresh and neat as every guest at this party. You can hear the distinguished music coming from a quartet playing under a gazebo a few meters away from you, and smell the fresh air of the night blending with aromas of flowers, expensive alcohol, hint of vanilla and sweet scents hiding a stronger note of sweat and cologne. Around you, all the richest, wealthiest, and noteworthiest of people in St Denis. You can hear them talk; their conversation as dull and superficial as an empty chrysalid, an abandoned cocoon emptied from all substance, from all interest and life.

You hated those kinds of discussions. Hated those kinds of people, the ones that have the easiest and simplest life one could ever have; being fed, being cared for, even being told what to think and do. You almost envied them in a way, they didn't have to worry about a single thing apart from losing their power. It seemed comfortable somehow, worry-free. The exact opposite of what you had always known.

And yet, you had to bear with them. A very specific task had been assigned to you by your gang. A simple job, one you were often sent off to as you had grown by the years into a great thief and a terribly efficient shapeshifter; blending into any type of party, or gathering, always making a good impression, putting people at ease. You were now an expert at this little game, especially with rich men. They were all the same, always wanting more, demanding the same thing from you. You had learned how to play with their greediness and lust to turn it into your advantage, saloons becoming your jungle as you sneaked easily between your prey to rob them, a deadly and redoubtable leopard in a world of apes.

You needed to steal some important documents from the mayor's office. The main informer of your gang had specified it was a pretty strong lead, and that you could gain a lot from it; something to do with Leviticus Cornwall's dirty deeds with the mayor, a blackmail opportunity.

Your boss had decided to send you, knowing you would easily integrate the party, and even more easily steal the documents. So here you were, feline eyes looking all around you, scanning, observing, evaluating. You couldn't just come, steal the papers, and go; it would have been too suspicious. All the contrary, you needed to be seen and leave a good impression like you always did, maybe stay for a couple of hours, and then smoothly retrieve your goal before disappearing in the secrecy of the dark night. A flamboyant, harmless butterfly… on the surface.

You sighed, trying to pay attention to what was being said to you. Right in front of you, a middle-aged man was talking, explaining something about how he had acquired his incredible wealth. His speech was sadly boring, his eyes glum, his clothes basic, his face awfully bland.

The empty chrysalis in all its gloomy glory.

You forced yourself to nod and give the man a charming smile. This was your job. You had to at least do it properly. Why was tonight a lot harder than the others? Were you frightened to be right under the Mayor's nose, fooling him into his own home? Were you tired, or sick?

In a way, you were. Sick of this life, of this constant pretending, of being here listening to the literal hollow vessel bragging about himself, sick of needing to appear actually interested, charmed even.

Suddenly, the music coming from the quartet is too loud, sharp violin blending with his words, making you even less focused. You were here for too long already, you needed a break and to finish your mission.

You politely interrupted the stranger, placing a gentle hand on his forearm, a gesture that you had noticed was prompt to soften most men. Along with your most charming smile, you excused yourself from him and quickly walked to a less crowded area, praying that no one would interrupt you.

You made your way up to the exterior stairs of the luxurious mansion just before the patio door and windows, and stopped on top of them, placing your hands on the central low wall, between two Greek columns. Another fancy facade, the house itself was just an imitation from another culture. Did any of these fools have any personal identity at all?

From here, you had a good view of the whole party. Countless fake smiles, masks, a literal scene of a play that could have its place at the Théâtre Râleur. A play of pale phantom shells.

You reached for your purse, taking a cigarette out, mindlessly putting it between your lips. Maybe smoking would help. You searched for a match, silently cursing realizing you hadn't any left.

"Ya need some fire, Ma’am?"

A deep voice said behind you, making you turn, surprised. It was unusual for people to startle you, your ears had been trained to notice the faintest of footsteps in order to survive.

You got even more surprised considering who had talked. A man was standing before you. He was taller, and largely wider than you, his black suit struggling to contain what looked like a well-built body; which made you wonder how could he have been so quiet. His shoulders especially looked way broader than the men you had the habit of running into at those sorts of gatherings. A very classical white bow looked like it was strangling him. His black tailcoat and white jacket looked larger too, making you wonder how much did he had to pay for the tailor to sew them custom-made.

His hair had a soft indescribable color, somewhere between a light brown and a sandy blond. His face, the work of a brutal draftsman, rough edges and strong squared jaw gratified with some scars. One on his chin, another on his nose, nose that seemed broken now that you were thinking about it. It looked like the artist that had drawn this man had sharpened his pencils too much and traced lines in a hurry, piercing through the canvas, his features ending up rugged and scared, some trace of graphite shrapnel that would have damaged the portrait.

What disturbed you the most were his eyes. They looked out of place considering how robust his features were. One could have expected them to be dark, black even. But they were the exact opposite, their bright and soft indigo color leaving you disarmed, two sapphires locked on your own pupils.

He was handing you a match, and you slowly took it, your fingers slightly discovering how his palm felt under them. Firm, calloused. Another stone-like feature of him.

He looked like those Greek statues carved by artists. His beauty so singular and yet enticing. So different.

"Why, thank you, kind sir." You showed your gratitude to him with a grin, lighting the match by simply rubbing it against the cold stone of the fence, a little flame appearing instantly. You brought it to your mouth, the cigarette finally catching fire, and you breathed in.

"Ya don't smoke much?" He questioned, voice deep. You hadn't noticed how deep it was the first time, nor how pronounced his accent was, dragging and drawling every word, a slow melody of his own.

"Not too often, indeed." You informed him. It was the truth, you were basically just smoking during jobs to blend in more easily, most people doing it. It was an easy way to start a conversation with anyone. Just like he had done with you, you noted.

"Needed a break from high society?" He inquired, a sarcastic tone in his voice.

"I guess you could say that." You answered, exhaling a long drag of smoke.

You were now completely turned to face him, your cigarette making back and forth from your mouth to the air where you tossed the burned ashes with a little movement from your thumb to the cigarette’s end. Your motions were elegant, distinguished but looked natural. It caught his interest.

"What's your name, sir?" You spoke again, curious about this uncommon newcomer.

"Tacitus Kilgore. What is yours, Ma'am?" He asked you back before placing himself on your left, both of you leaning on the low fence of the patio.

You contained a chuckle. There was no way in the World this man was named like this. You knew something was odd about him. The scars, his knuckles redden and subtly wounded as if had fought recently. His strong stature, miles away from a lazy bourgeois being served, his wild hair longer than the actual trendy haircut, his stubble fitting more a countryman than an actual St Denis gentleman.

Years of playing with people and observing them had made your eyes alert and expert, and you could see when someone was pretending.

When someone was playing a role just like you were, not belonging into this World.

"Rose Schultz." Of course, it wasn't your real name either. You had to be a really poor thief to give him your actual one. He didn't react to it though, his face impassible just like the start of your whole conversation.

Apart from this vague feeling you had about him not being a rich gentleman, you found trouble in reading his emotions. His facial features were closed, impenetrable, mysterious. This also disturbed you as you had the habits of figuring men out right away; he on the other hand was a whole challenge by himself, his intentions hidden behind an emotionless face. This man probably was a champion at poker.

"Nice t' meet ya, Missus Schultz. Are you, erm, hidin' from someone here? Or jus' judgin' everyone from your perch?" He went on with a more amused voice.

"Just know that I'm not the type to hide from someone, Mister." You replied, a little grin curling up your lips.

"Yeah, you sure don't look like it..."

"You wanna know what I think you look like, Mister?"

"Go ahead."

"A wild horse who's trapped, and can't wait to be freed again."

Silence. His eyes stared deeply into yours, stabbing you in sharp blue flashes of Apatite, as keen as the blade of a knife. After just a few seconds, you finally see his mouth moving, his cold expression changing as a slight grin made his way between the stillness of his features.

"You sort of a witch or somethin' ?" He asked you, amused once again. His little smile is even more evident in his eyes, his lower eyelids crinkling slightly in amusement.

"Maybe." You answered cockily, feeling more at ease with him now that he was slightly more open.

Still, there was something that was making you feel weak in the knees; maybe it was his tall stature, his strong build, or the palpable tension you could feel beaming out from him, as if he was ready to jump on someone who would have crossed him at any second.

In a way, you liked it. It was almost exciting.

"I better not mess wi’chu then. Don't wanna end up cursed or somethin'." He joked, features relaxing, body leaning slightly more against the low wall in a more comfortable position.

"Oh, I wouldn't dare. You also look like the type of man you don't wanna mess with..."

"I'm surprised how well you already know me, darlin'." He admitted, internally enjoying your conversation more and more.

Your heart swelled at the surname. It felt so good in your ears, it sounded better than from any person who ever said it to you. You wanted to hear it again. You wanted to hear him say it just to you.

"I'm kinda talented at figuring people out." You simply replied, before taking another drag at your cigarette.

"I too. And I also think you're not here to jus' play nice with everyone and enjoy yourself." He suddenly confessed to you with a knowing gaze, eyebrows raising as if he was trying to make you understand something.

He knew too. You both knew you weren't from this world, like two predators from the same species, recognizing themselves, circling, judging, from one individual to another. Your breath stopped for a very short time, nobody could have noticed it, but somehow you were sure he did.

"Don't ya worry little "rose", I won't tell no one..."

You didn't miss how he was playing with your false name. On top of being astonishingly handsome, he had some spirit…

He's still looking intensely into your eyes. "In return, I expect you to do the same...", he added in a low voice, his tone firmer and even more resonant than earlier.

A threat. His presence only intimidates you, and it's working so well that you're almost sure he must be an expert in terrorizing too. He must be one hell of a weapon all by himself.

You slowly nodded your head, trying to swallow as naturally as possible to look unphased.

"Guess we have a deal here, "Tacitus"." You emphasized his name, making it clear you're more than doubtful about it being real too.

It made him laugh, and you almost lost it at the sound of it. It was as deep, raw, and genuine as his entire being seemed to be. You loved it. You loved it too much.

Exhaling some smoke, you noticed he had pulled out a cigarette too and had joined your smoking, holding it between his thumb and index finger. You had mixed feelings for this man. He was just as intimidating as he was enticing, and you let your curiosity win the best of you as you carried on your conversation with him.

"I hate it here." You suddenly confessed.

There was no point in playing anymore, and even if you didn’t really know why you had told him that, a part of you felt like maybe, just maybe, he could have understood you.

"Yeah, I get what ya mean. Sometimes I think that those people are jus'… reptiles in fancy clothin'."

You had seen right. Your chest felt light, as if he had lifted a weight in you with just those simple words.

"I just want to be anywhere else but here. Somewhere nicer, more authentic. Like in Big Valley..." You went on with your regrets.

"You too know about this place uh? Yeah, I can picture ya picking flowers in Lil’ Creek..."

This time it was your turn to chuckle, your laugh creating a little puff of smoke in the air. Was he being serious or just teasing you? You didn’t really care. Now, you felt like something special was linking you both as you knew exactly where this spot was, a happy memory brought back in your mind thanks to his words. The wild and fresh river, the meadows covered in thousands of violet flowers, the snowy mountains in the background.

Your cristal-clear laugh made him smile back at you.

"So... What does a woman like you is actually doing here, then?" He asked you, his eyes roaming all along your body while he did.

You were glad you had put on the prettiest dress you had, its dark burgundy color matching perfectly the tone of your skin, and its generous cleavage showing a delicious amount of your chest, underlined by a black translucent shawl covering your shoulders and twirling around your arms. You were offering a tempting sight for every man. You knew he had looked at it, his eyes lingering there had almost burned your skin, sent a warm feeling between your tights, and made your hand hold your cigarette tighter.

"You really thought it would be that easy, Mister?" You answered with another cheeky grin, looking at him with a sensual gaze, your words let out in a languorous whisper, knowing damn well he was trying to gain information, probably to probe if he could get something out of it for himself. "You really thought I would just confess everything to you about myself and what I'm doing here, just because you've got a firm tone and pretty face?"

He let out a dry single chuckle, his cigarette hanging in the air, smirking some more. This damn smirk, it was making you have more and more inappropriate thoughts about this man. The wildness, the dangerousness he was emitting should have made every girl flee, but you, all the contrary, were attracted by it like a moth to a flame.

Or maybe he was the Moth. Maybe he was the beautiful, singular, and ephemeral Moth in the world of chrysalides you were searching for all along.

"Oh trust me, I could make you spit out everythin' I want, Miss." He replied to your taunting words with the serious threatening tone he had used before. "Could make this pretty mouth behave..." He added, looking right into your soul, bending slightly towards you.

You felt like the tension was about to make your whole body burst. There was something between you two, you were sure he could feel it too. A sinuous, dark creature swimming and circling incessantly under the surface of a frozen lake; waiting, craving to be unleashed, to break the thin layer of ice that was keeping it caged.

He was inviting you to measure yourself to him. Bent towards you, wanting you to close the other half of the space between you both. A challenge, or a mark of respect, the case you didn’t want to venture into this territory.

But truth was, you wanted to. You wanted to break the ice yourself, you wanted to just kiss him, right here, right now.

Of course, it was a bad idea. And you were a professional, on a mission.

Instead, you put your hand on his bicep and brought your head inches away from his, not closing the space between your mouths. You’re accepting this silent fight, excited to show him what you’re capable of. You’re enveloped by his strong scent; your lips so close to his. You can see by his widening smirk how delighted he is you didn’t change your mind nor lost your guts. Responding to your bold move, he slowly snaked an arm around your waist. His hand landed on your lower back, just on the verge of being offensive.

Both of you stayed like this for a moment, your breath mixing, merging in a dangerous and exciting cocktail, but neither of you actually crossing the limit.

He could sense just how close he was to though, his muscles were tensed under your fingers, his forehead almost resting on yours with a light frown on it. You could see in his impassive handsome face a whole new emotion.

Pure, raw lust.

"You're such a temptatious, thorny rose..." He mumbled in a hot whisper against your lips, the warmth between your legs now burning like a wildfire. Your pussy was aching for him, and you couldn't hold it anymore.

You felt his body twitching as he was going to finally do it, finally break the ice of the frozen lake, finally let his impulses and needs break free, his unholy, deep, atrociously torturous desires-

"Ah, Arthur !" A relieved voice interrupted both of you and he immediately let go of you, his head snapping to look at the man who had talked, eyes widening.

A tall gentleman with a perfectly cut mustache as black as his long curly hair and hat was looking at your companion with a contained, amused smile.

"Will you excuse us, Miss?" He said unctuously to you, his voice polite and charming.

It was more of a statement than a question. He quickly took one of your hands and put a polite kiss on it before bending slightly towards you, as a gentleman would, and looked at your opponent with an insistent gaze.

Arthur was fulminating. He wasn't actually showing it, his face had come back to its usual cold, emotionless expression. But you could feel from where you were the unbearable tension and frustration that was dripping from his body language, almost as a halo of warmth you could physically touch with your hands. He took a last look at you, eyes expressing a mix of regret and bitterness.

"Goodnight, Miss." He coldly greeted you, walking next to you to follow his friend and go down the stairs, his shoulder brushing against yours while doing it.

"Goodnight, Arthur..." You answered him emphasizing his name once again, making it really clear that you remembered it was not the one he had given you and that you were pretty proud you had seen right. A playful, teasing grin on your face, you look one last time at him before he vanished in the ocean of guests.

Your Butterfly had disappeared just as quickly as he had materialized; leaving you alone with the empty cocoons once more. It was more than time for you to do your job and get out of here. Your cigarette finished, now feeling cold between your fingers, you tossed it away and headed into the mansion, feeling just as frustrated as so-called Arthur.

Arthur was pissed. He had never felt so frustrated in ages, and it was making his thoughts even less easy to discipline. His cigarette was on the verge of being smoked all at once from how intense he was getting and how heavy his breath had turned, the end of it constantly burning in a red shining little point as he was walking.

This whole year he had felt like he didn't have any control over anything anymore and he hated it.

He was already feeling embittered in his everyday life, Dutch listening less and less to his opinion, Micah sneaking around him more and more, Mary coming back to him just to ask him to help her goddamn father who had always treated him like shit.

On top of that, Dutch had made him look like an idiot using his actual name in front of you, making him wonder what was even the whole point of having a cover if he wasn't capable of sticking to it; which he had bitterly pointed out to him, but his superior had shrugged it off, seemingly happy to be here amongst the important people, looking as careless as ever.

Yes, Arthur was feeling frustrated, frustrated and tired of this. Tonight, instead of giving of himself, he wanted to take, for once. He needed to, even. He was about to before being interrupted, and this thought was gnawing at him from the inside.

He was barely paying attention to what Dutch was saying to him and the others once Hosea and Bill had joined them. All he could see was your insanely beautiful face, your inviting lips, the perfect outline of your breasts from your cleavage, like engraved into his pupils.

The way you were talking, charming and teasing, the way you were smoking, all of this dreadfully turning him on during all your conversation. He had made an enormous amount of effort in order not to just kiss you.

He had joked about you being a witch, but it was the only explanation: you had bewitched him, threw your darkest, most sinful curse on him. Never in his life he had felt so attracted to someone after having talked with them for only such a short amount of time. What an insane fool he was.

On top of it, he was raging about the fact he probably wouldn't have the occasion to see you ever again. He had understood you clearly weren't just another rich man's wife, and he was certain you had given him a false name. His cock was throbbing terribly hurtfully in his pants, making his jaw clench, his brows frowning even more than usual. It was begging to be buried in you, between your legs, in your mouth, or your hands, even your breasts or your ass, anything but the cold feeling of nothingness he was feeling right now around it.

The sudden explosive sound and colorful lighting of fireworks had pulled him out of his blasphemous thoughts.

He understood Dutch was ordering him something about following one of the Mayor's domestic, and gladly obliged, relieved to have another thing to focus on. Something about Cornwall sending an important letter to Lemieux, which he had to steal. Nothing difficult, he had done those sorts of things countless times.

Nothing new.

Nothing puzzling, like you had been.

As he followed the man, eyes locked on his white suit from afar, he quickly took a glance at the patio to see if you were still there. You weren't. His dick ached as he let out a deep exhale. Damn it.

Arthur rapidly found himself inside the Mayor's house. His servant had entered what looked like an office. He waited a few seconds after the room had felt silent, behind the corner of the walls, just to be sure, and entered it.

The room was indeed an office, a little desk with an armchair on his left, bookcases covering every wall, simply illuminated by a flickering orange lamp. Everything looked normal, except for the dark figure of a person in the middle of the place.

You.

He recognized your sensual dress immediately and witnessed you shoving some papers in what looked like a leathered little pocket held around your right thigh by leathered straps, just like a holster would be. His mind raced, a million reflections flying under his eyes.

You were some sort of professional thief. And he didn’t have to be a genius to understand you had just taken the precise thing he was there for.

"That's why you were here, lil' rose?!" He asked you almost in disbelief, closing the door behind him.

You looked at him with a bold grin, looking almost amused by the situation. He, on the other hand, felt nothing but amusement. Anger, to have been fooled so easily, and that you had got ahead of him, losing the quiet game that had been played out between you. Envy, as you were now possessing two things he wanted to take away from you. Arousal, as his eyes were glued to the thigh that was now visible to his greedy eyes as you had pulled up your dress to put the sheets in your hidden pocket. Need, as his member felt hard again just by the sight of you doing it.

"Yeah, and you can only dream for me to give them to you if those papers were your target too, Arthur."

Damn, that teasing, cheeky mouth of yours. His fantasies came back in full force, and his gaze darkened. As temptatious as you were, he needed those documents. And he would do anything he had to to have them back.

"Give ‘em to me." He lowly ordered you, voice so severe you could have melted right into the carpeted floor of this damn office. But you didn't.

"Hell no."

"Give ‘em t’me, woman. I won't ask nicely a third time."

"If you want them, you'll have to catch me, pretty boy."

Lord, why was everyone so prompt to call him this way lately? He almost grunted at the way you had said it, and he would have lied if this time he didn't like it when it fell from your lips. He wanted to reply with something witty and even more threatening, but in a flash, you had opened the window, and easily jumped outside.

This Goddamn woman. What was she exactly? Some sort of feline? Yeah, probably a panther, agile, impressive, dangerous like one.

He instantly ran after you, jumping through the window too, landing in a loud thud. He quickly spotted your dress running away, escaping by the entry’s portal, then in the nearest street, disappearing behind St Denis's myriad of flashing lights.

How could he had missed it? His mind was filled with images of it.

He had the common decency of grabbing back his gun from the butler at the party's entry, making him almost fall on the ground as he hadn't slowed but had grabbed them while running, the poor man wondering what the Hell made both of these people in such a hurry.

He was now flying at full speed around the luxurious streets, following the faint glimpse of your dress's color at the corner of every turn. He felt like he could follow your scent like a hunting dog, your sweet and peachy perfume confirming him you had passed there before.

He had enough, feeling his restrain and manners crackling more and more into little pieces. You were making him feel like a damn animal, reducing his whole being to primal needs and functions. He should have been disgusted with himself for that. But all he could do right now was thinking about the damn documents hidden against your damn alluring thigh.

"Stop now, you Goddamn... Evil woman!" He tried to call you out, but you just wouldn't stop. He started firing at you, getting angrier and more fed up by the second, a bullet exploding a piece of the bricked wall right next to your head, some splinters cutting slightly the top of your ear.

You bent over to dodge his bullets one more time and you heard him cursing again loudly behind you. On top of being big, strong and clever, he was fast. In a quick movement of your feet, shaking them, you removed your shoes, unable to run at your fastest speed with heels. You continued your frenzied course, way more at ease.

Arthur rushed in where you were just mere seconds after you, noticing the shoes abandoned on the floor. What the Hell was even this woman, he asked himself for the second time this evening. Some sort of temptatious, dark retelling of Cinderella?

He almost made himself laugh at the thought, understanding your move because his own polished shoes were frankly a pain to run with, making him slip with every shift as if he was walking on soap and regret his good old boots, before acknowledging he had lost your trace.

Shit!

He looked all around him, his eyes scanning every inch, his breath rapid and sharp, his forehead and neck a pool of sweat. No signs of you, unless...

Something fell right on his face, but gently, as a caress from a fresh breeze. Your perfume filled up his nostrils and lungs and it made his heart race. He took it in his hands, the sensations pleasant under his fingerprints.

It was your black shawl.

Tilting his head up, he found you.

You were making your way up to the roof of the town by climbing on a thin ladder.

Arthur exhaled deeply through his nose like a buffalo. He was used to this kind of high-speed chase, but this was a whole new thing, which made him regret his lasso too, his hand searching for it on his belt out of habit but closing on nothing.

Damned party, damned suit, damned you.

He climbed after you, refusing to give up, enraged like a wild beast.

He would catch you, dead or alive.

In a way, this was making him even more aroused than any work-girl show he had ever seen.

"I'm going to kill ya, that's a promise!"

You could hear just how furious his voice was now, and you were starting to pray you would flee successfully from him, cause you knew he would eat you alive if he could get his hands on you.

Arriving on top of the building, you caught your breath for a microsecond, before searching for a way out, gaze frantic, heart beating out of your chest. You were considering climbing to another roof, but the deep, breathless sounds of your pursuer prevented you from doing more thinking.

Arthur had reached the top of the roof too, and was already aiming his gun at you. This time he didn't even bother to say anything, shooting at you again while getting up. He was so seething you wouldn’t have been surprised to see saliva bubbling from his mouth.

By divine intervention, you dodged again, and without any thinking, you ran all the way to the edge of the roof, and jumped.

You stayed in the air for a few seconds.

You felt like time had stopped, the air brushing against your skin, your heart hanging somewhere between the sky and the total void.

You landed on a fancy and illuminated balcony a few meters away. You hurt your feet and legs with the shock, but smiled proudly to yourself. You were out of reach, he was way bigger and way heavier than you, there was no way he coul-

A gigantic mass fell on you, as Arthur had proved you wrong and jumped from the roof you had just left and was crashing directly into you.

Both of you fell on the ground and struggled for a few seconds; you tried to resist him but it was a fight already lost, this literal force of nature easily handling you like he wanted.

You ended up lying on your back, Arthur sitting on you, towering over you with all his might, quickly grabbing your wrists to prevent you from fighting, his legs parted around your hips stopping you from escaping. You were trapped.

"You're a pain in the ass girl, you know that?!" He shouted at you, breathless, raging mad. You were both panting, sweating heavily. His face was entirely red, and your cheeks even more crimson.

You both looked at each other, eyes locked, and you stayed silent. The dark creature prowling under the thin floe had returned and it was getting bigger, stronger, out of control with each passing second. There was something extremely erotic in the way he was almost lying on top of you, both of you out of breath, sweaty, and burning red, both your hearts beating at full speed in the same erratic rhythm.

Just like before at the reception, you knew he could feel it too. You knew it from the dark gaze he was looking at you with, the shady swirls of the murky leviathan reflecting in the depths of his pupils, from the deepest well of his urges, forbidden territory to which no man ever had access.

A simple touch of his hand, that's all it took.

He put both of your hands into a single one of his, using his other one to pull up your dress, fingers roaming on your thigh.

You couldn't hold it anymore, you bent toward him and slammed your lips against his in the most powerful and decadent kiss you had ever shared with someone, almost biting him.

The moment you did, Arthur's mind exploded, and every poor drop of restrain he had evaporated as quickly as if it was on the Sun's surface. The beast had won, finally shattering the weak layer of ice into a million pieces; your two souls blending in what could have felt like a fevered dream.

The grunt he let out onto your kiss was animalistic, and the tension in his body just as powerful as a waterfall with a brutal, unstoppable current. The hand that was holding your wrist let go of it and slipped under your head, fingers in your hair, as his tongue licked against your lips, searching for a way in. You let him in, eagerly, wondering if he would have forced the way if you didn’t.

He tasted strong, as if to match his whole being, a powerful flavor of tobacco, merged with a faint trace of sweetness and bitterness from the champagne he had drank. Like if you were smoking the finest and strongest of cigars. It made you love it even more.

Abandoning all your restraints too, your hands wrapped around his neck and your hips started pushing up against his, even if you couldn't move much, his two muscular thighs keeping you grounded to the balcony's paved floor. It felt so cold against your back, contrasting with the heat Arthur was burning with, consuming, devastating, raging.

He growled again when he felt your movement under him. He needed more of you, right now. This whole seduction game, the adrenaline rose by the chase, your bold charming attitude, your insanely insolent beauty, it was making him insane. He roughly ripped off his bowtie with one hand, needing some air; it felt like you two were under the desert’s scorching sun, stifling, dazing.

The right hand he had on your thigh traveled even higher under your dress, devouring every inch of flesh it could, and his appetite was only getting worse the more he discovered you. He smoothly moved his legs from around yours to put himself between them, and you instantly, almost from instinct, hooked them around his hips.

The sudden contact of your blazing core against his equally hot bulge made you sigh in pleasure, and he loved it. Breaking your kiss for the first time since you had initiated it, he pulled back to look at you, his deep gaze devouring you, undressing you just by its stare.

“What’s your real name?” He asked you, voice hoarser than ever, demanding it from you.

You told him your name, limbs feeling like mush under his intense eyes. He repeated it quietly, like a prayer he would recite on his own. You felt less and less like the panther you thought you were, and more and more like he was the predator alone. In a shaking tone, you questioned back to know his full, real name, needing to know what words you’d have to whisper in gratitude when he would finally take what he wanted from you. To whisper, or shout to the Heavens.

“Arthur Morgan.” He let out, his lips quickly returning to their current addiction, your skin. The way they were attacking your neck didn’t have an ounce of control now, his mouth opening widely to almost take a whole bite of your flesh there, letting kisses everywhere it could.

“Tell me if you don’t want this.” He added against your skin, between two greedy open-mouth kisses.

A way to escape. The predator stilling, letting a way out. But you didn't wanted it. Not at all. Not now that he had surrendered to you, trusting you with the intimacy of his real name, that would be stuck in your mind for God knows how long.

“I want it.” You asserted, voice almost cracking with the weight of your need.

He moaned a relieved sound in answer, his nose exhaling some air that tickled your neck.

You weren’t even sure he could stop himself if you had said no. He was consuming you, and he felt completely drunk, as if you were coated with a powerful whiskey. Strong alcohol that his tongue was now licking all the way from your shoulder, up to your ear.

You moaned, the feeling of his hungriness so good and perfect on you.

"Gonna take care of ya now." He growled in a rumbling whisper, making your legs feel weak. Another one of his promises, but this one was going to give you salvation, and you were thanking him for keeping it.

The bold hand he had under your dress took another step towards insanity by landing on your undergarments, his thick fingers searching for a way in. You were trembling with anticipation. You couldn't even register the fact that you were really doing this, right now, with a complete stranger you had met only a few hours ago, and who wanted to kill you minutes before, on the balcony of what looked like a habited place.

The obscenity, the depravation, the boldness of it was only matched by his relentless thirst for you.

His fingers had finally pulled your underwear to the side, and you sighed seeing him on top of you, eyes drawn to your bare pussy, carnal features empathized by the obscurity of the night. The tip of his fingers traveled amongst your folds, wolves into the forest, a territory they were now claiming as theirs.

You almost begged for him, for the wolves to eat you up all and let nothing behind them, please Arthur, and he offered you this damnation, the desperate call of his name igniting another fire in his already infernal mind. A single, calloused finger pushed into your folds, making you spread your legs even more to grant it better access. It was stretching you pleasantly, his skin rough and firm inside. You started letting out sweet, quiet moans, showing him just how much you were enjoying this.

Your two hands now gripping his back, holding on for something, anything, his dark jacket suddenly feeling way too smooth to grab onto; you were wondering how touching his naked back could feel.

Arthur was doing everything in his power not to burst once more, grunting in response to your loving sound. Slowly, he pushed another one, thriving in how wet and hot your cunt felt around his fingers, craving for the moment he would finally be able to feel this downright perfection around his cock. He felt like he was ruining you, throwing you to these wolves, and you were thanking him for it.

For now, he focused on you, blue eyes glued on your face when he started curling his digits inside of you, searching for this so special, so delightful spot within your walls. He was observant, noticing every sound you were making, every muscle tensing, to know if it was the place you liked that he was brushing right now. Wanting it to be the place you liked most.

By adding his thumb on your clit and pushing a little deeper his index and middle finger in your desperate pussy, he realized he finally had found the Graill as your back arched against the ground, your own hands gripping harder on him, eyes shutting in pure pleasure.

"Oh, God! Yes, right there..." You rewarded him, voice high-pitched and filled with delight, a tingling sensation spreading on your legs and shoulders.

He exhaled deeply, your words making his own member gorging, pressing against the fabric of his suit that felt too small to contain him. He started pushing in and out, pulling a whine out of your throat with every movement, as the thick tip of his fingers rubbed against your sweet spot every time, wolves once again in a world of sweetness and honey, lapping your delight, feasting on your pleasure.

“Told ya I would make this pretty mouth behave…” He said cockily after one of your moans. He was enjoying this all too much, finally feeling in control again, being the one and only responsible for your ecstasy.

The distance between his mouth and you seemed to be unacceptable for him as he had succumbed once more to his needs, his lips finding your skin again, tongue tasting, teasing your chest this time, everywhere he could on the cleavage he had desired since the first time he had laid eyes on you tonight. Bent over to you, looking like a curved beast feasting on its prey.

You were feeling your pleasure building, Arthur’s face hungrily searching for one of your nipples under the neckline of your dress, and sucking it once he had finally found it. His teeth and nose had pulled your dress, freeing your entire left breast, bare, defenseless in front of him.

Maybe he was the wolf himself. He sure looked like it, his face a maw fed by your soft flesh.

Every nerve of your pussy screamed for deliverance, this familiar sensation taking form in your lower stomach. Your moans were becoming even more high-pitched, breathless, almost obscene, much to the outlaw's delight.

You had thought of him before being a terribly efficient and multi-functional weapon. You couldn’t have known just how right you had been, your hardening nipple still chewed by his mouth while his right hand was sending you to your edge, thumb skillfully circling on your clit faster and faster, the two other fingers tearing apart your sweet spot, in and out, in and out, again and again, until…

“A-Arthur, don’t stop, please!” Your voice slit the night open, tone pleading as if you were begging for your life.

“I won’t girl, it’s all okay… Give it t’me…” He encouraged you, even his breath feeling rough against the skin of your chest before he sucked hard on the skin of one of your breasts, accompanying you to your salvation.

It was enough to send you over your limit, your pussy clenching, throbbing, entirely consumed. You moaned so loudly it could have turned into a scream, hips jerking against his palm, his other hand quickly grabbing your hip to steady you and carry you through it as his fingers were dragging every last drop of your pleasure out of you.

“Yeahhh, that’s it gorgeous, just like that…”

He was frowning, the sinful sensations of your wet cunt coating his fingers in a warm slick and tensing around them making his eyebrow and jaw just as tensed, his face just a hint of how fucking riled up he was because of it.

Your head was still spinning and your breath uneven when he finally pulled his digits out of your walls, the fresh air replacing them. Lost in your haze, you weren't capable of doing anything else but looking at him through lidded, heavy eyes.

He was absolutely beautiful, even more than at the start of the night. His true nature out at last, his white fancy shirt disheveled now that he had removed his bowtie and soaked from efforts. Cheeks and throat as red as a sanguine sunset. Pearls of sweat sparkling on his burning skin with the Ocean of street lights of St Denis, reminding you of a night sky, making his sandy hair stick to his forehead in the hottest way possible.

You didn't knew how could all this had escalated so quickly, but at that moment, you felt like this man before you was your whole universe, his deep ultramarine eyes completing the stellar work of art he was, shining, shimmering, more than any star in the sky, as if the Gods had capture the entire Milky Way and imprisoned it in his being.

Arthur had ultimately pulled his cock out of his black suit pants, only piece of flesh out of his clothes, and your thoughts were immediately contradicted; there was no way any virtuous God could have made a man so depraved. He was the work of the Other Side, Lust and Temptation personified. King of the wolves, he could have had all the Hounds of Hell kneeling before him.

He pumped himself a few times, unable to resist the call his member had been screaming for hours, reinforced by the way his fingers had tasted your wet cavern. Some precum had already leaked from his big pinkish head when he was fingering you and was now glistening in the night, making you think about the stars again. Your breath got caught at this sight and you couldn't stop yourself from letting out a praise.

"Perfect..." You simply stated in a whisper, eyes glued to his throbbing, veiny member, relieved he had already pulled an orgasm out of you because there was no way he could have fit in you otherwise. Your eyes followed the dark path of his hair, from the glimpse you had on his chest between the open collar of his shirt, all the way down to his pelvis and at the base of his shaft.

You could only imagine what it looked like without any clothes on, and you were dying to know.

"Trust me, you're the perfect one, darlin'." He asserted, firm tone leaving little to contradiction.

He positioned himself in front of your entrance.

You weren't even completely back from the world your first relief had brought you to, and he was already at your door again. But this time, Arthur couldn’t stop himself.

He had given once again, just like always. Now he wanted to take. He needed to take. The starving, depraved wolf. Slowly pushing, teasing himself, making his cock’s head sink into your dripping territory, creating wet and soggy sounds, a hardened spear into honey.

He couldn't hold back a baritone moan, the feeling was even better than what he remembered. He hadn't taken the time or allowed himself to lay with a woman in ages, and God, what a return to this primal bliss.

He slowly moved some more, his hands spreading your legs a bit wider from around his waist to allow him to penetrate you more easily. Once you had entirely enveloped him, his tip deep inside, he let out another deep throaty grunt, the feeling making it hard for him to keep his thoughts clear.

"Ahh... Shit, darlin’... So tight…"

Considering how his length was stretching you, you bet he felt your pussy tight. The first word that came into your mind was “complete”. So complete with his huge cock inside of you; you felt like you could have died happily like this. One of your hands slipped from the top of his back to the lower part of it, just above his ass, pressing there, showing him just how much you wanted him to move, to let go.

Arthur didn't need much more as he pulled back slowly only to snap his hips back against yours, his cock pushing again all the way through your cunt in one hard single time, giving you another wave of pleasure as you both moaned together, unable to resist the intense sensation he was creating for both of you.

Hearing you whine, finally feeling your perfectly tight and warm pussy around him, it was making him lose all sense of restraint, and as your other hand ran through his hair, your angelic voice whispering his name as if he was your Lord and savior, he lost it.

He started to pull in and out of you faster, harder, your bodies colliding in a delicious way, obscene noises echoing through the silence of the darkness. His increase in pace made your body scream in pleasure and you buried your face into the crook of his neck under the collar of his shirt, biting his skin there.

It made him grunt loudly, and one of his hands roamed from your hips to your rear, grabbing a fistful of your ass in an instinctive response. His other hand was on the ground next to you, keeping him from crushing you against it. It made your head blank with pleasure.

"Shit, Arthur! M-more!" You begged, feeling like you could die if he stopped, your voice turning into high squeals.

"Anhh- God... More? Don’t worry girl, I'll g-give you more...-Mmh!"

His voice was heavy with pleasure, words cut off by moans and grunts you were delighted to hear, the most unholy and arousing music you had ever had the honor to listen to.

True to his words, he obliged, hips thrusting endlessly, member empaling you with each move. You could feel the flesh of his pelvis against yours with how deep he dived into you, and around it the stiffness of his suit, rubbing again the breast he had pulled out of your dress before, nipple sensitive after his previous treatment.

If what was between you was once a frozen lake, it had now turned into an Ocean of lava, magma exploding, engulfing both of you in the most burning and devastating passion you'd ever experienced, a volcanic explosion of desires.

The hand he had on your asscheek reluctantly let go of it, but you ended up thanking him for it, cause he was now using it to put your left leg above his shoulder, grabbing under your knee, allowing him to fuck you in an even better angle than before. He was ruining you once again, but this time felt like the pack of starving enraged wolves had taken him with you to consume him entirely.

You leaned against the floor, back of your head feeling the paved coldness, only hint that everything was actually real. Arthur's eyes locked with yours as he kept on fucking you hard and fast, this intimate contact making his member twitch.

You felt so goddamn good around him, and looked so goddamn gorgeous like this, your cheeky grin long gone, replaced by a delightful frown of pleasure, mouth open in a quiet scream. Arthur felt his peak coming dangerously close, but his pace hadn't slowed, his fat cock thrusting in and out of you. In and out, like a furious, sacred metronome. In an out, like a blessed psalm you'd both be reciting together.

“Come on girl, I know you have another, -Damn it!-, another one in ya. Give it to me, come on, jus’ for me…”

Words and voice drowned in a flood of pleasure and curses, of deep grunts and growls, his possessiveness sending you over the edge once again, your inside closing its trap around him, squeezing just how he needed to.

His eyes shut close, eyebrows furrowing in utter pleasure as he sank so hard and deeply you could have felt him splitting your guts in half, his dick throbbing and harder than ever. It reached a spot so deep and good inside of you, burning it, your pleasure bursting as you felt your orgasm coming for the second time.

"A-Arthur!" You cried out as you came around him, creaming him, walls clenching in a delicious sensation that made him reach the stars.

"God, damn it!" He shouted, voice deeper and rougher on the curse word before quickly removing himself from you in a flash of lucidity, finishing messily, cum spilling from his red sensitive member in white spurts that ended up right on your belly as a feral, powerful growl escaped his chest and his head tilted backward, letting you see his throat covered in sweat and veins.

For a moment, both of you had turned into beasts, shattered all the limits, broke all the shackles, diminishing you into your more primitive instincts. The Wolves of Lust had devoured your being into the very last delicious bone.

And that’s how you felt. Boneless.

Now, stillness. A cold breeze enveloped the pair of you, the only sounds now being the distant agitation of the city and your pantless breaths. He slowly brought his chin back down and opened his eyes, mesmerized by the sight of you returning from the realm of pure pleasure he had provided for you for the second time.

He felt powerful. He felt good. Better than he had for months, finally satisfied. Like a God, a King. King of all the Wolves, Cerberus, the only guardian of your unholy realm.

He wanted to do this again with you, as soon as possible.

He carefully put his softening dick back in its clothed cage, fingers fumbling with the buttons of his pants as he felt completely spent, his hands shaking slightly. He wanted to help you get cleaned up, but you had already brushed what you could of his release off your dress.

It would probably leave stains on your clothing nevertheless.

A twisted, dark part of him, the part that came from the same pit as the dark creature and the Wolves, felt almost aroused and proud at the thought you would keep an imprint of him on it. This part was relishing noticing the big ruby mark it had left on your breast as you were putting it back under your neckline; he grinned to himself knowing it would make your memories of him more difficult to forget.

He didn't want you to forget.

He slowly got up, offering you his hand to help you stand. You quickly put back your dress in its usual state, and wiped the sweat off your forehead. A silence settled between you two, thousands of questions floating in the air, but none of you ready to ask them out loud yet.

Finally, as you started shivering, only realizing now how cold this night was without Arthur's burning hot body on top of you, he spoke, voice even hoarser from having pushed on it too much, accent making every world sound heavy when they fell from his mouth.

"When can I see you again?" More than a demand, a promise. An order even. Cerberus needs his territory.

You already knew he kept them; his promises. Except for the one he had made to kill you. But in a way, he did, because you felt like you wouldn’t be able to ever feel so alive again without him.

Like a condemnation.

"You won't."

Certainty in your voice. But he didn't mind it. He had already broken you before.

"Oh, but I think I will, darlin'." Was all he said before stepping over the fence of the balcony, ready to jump off it. Before doing it, he pulled something out of his jacket and waved it at you.

The fucking papers.

A lightning of understanding and panic struck you; what you had thought was a lustful touch on your thigh, the one that had set everything on fire between the both of you, that had unleashed the Wolves, was in reality his sneaky hand retrieving the document from your hidden pocket.

Shit!

He gave you his cocky grin, blue gaze sparkling with mischief, greeting you with a two finger’s salute then jumped, disappearing in the night, away from you once again. You could have gone after him, as much as your weak and spent body would have allowed you to, but somehow, after all that he had done to you tonight, you felt like he had well deserved those damned letters.

tagging: @a-court-of-valkyries credits: Arthur's pic is not mine, belongs to fv8tt on Pinterest. Dividers and little moths doodle by me.

I reall hope you liked this one! I'm thinking about writing another part where the reader could confront Arthur again... Tell me if you'd like that! -Pine 🌱

#arthur morgan #rdr2 #red dead redemption 2 #arthur morgan x reader #arthur morgan x female reader #rdr2 arthur #arthur morgan x you #arthur morgan fanfiction #arthur morgan smut #arthur morgan rdr2 #rdr2 fanfiction #pinefic #arthur morgan fanfic

437 notes · View notes

blackdykegirlblogger · 8 days ago

Text

a/n: i hated the last set of vi hcs i did so this is me redeeming myself. whores, i introduce to you chakaverse!vi

sfw:

♡ has piercings up the wazoo. gages, eyebrow, septum, belly button, snake bites, tongue, nipples....she'd even be down to get her clit bebazzled but ONLY if you match with her.

♡ i think vi with glasses is pretty neat, so i'm adding it. she hates wearing them, insists on either grabbing some contacts or going outside blind as a bat, but she looks so damn handsome with them on.

♡ pretends not to give af about school only to turn around and major in smth lwk smart like health science and get straight Bs in all her classes. smh what a poser.

♡ has a ring on almost every finger (including your promise ring) and feels so naked without them. her nails are bitten to little stubs and are usually coated in very chipped black nail polish.

♡ yes, she's walking, talking pussy bait. you have to beat bitches off with a stick because it's butch season and the hoes are STARVING!

♡ is great at flirting with literally everyone but the actual object of her affection. when it comes to you, it's like all her charisma just drains out of her, and she's left awe-struck and amazed by the fact that you're even talking to her.

♡ isn't built like an ox (abby) but also isn't twinkishly small (ellie). she's right in the middle of the two, with some very noticeable muscles without looking like she's off to fight in a war.

♡ lives in wife beaters and baggy cargos and the same pair of combat boots that she's had since the 8th fucking grade. she lwk looks like she doesn't shower but surprise, surprise, she smells like pinecones and dove.

♡ is the captain of the wrestling team and for good reason. she is lethal on the mat, slamming dudes on their necks left and right and twisting them into 8 different types of pretzels (and not in the fun way). the other schools are scared of your university's wrestling team because of her and her alone.

♡ but despite all of this she's literally like....the biggest teddy bear on planet earth. the type to help old ladies across the street even if it takes 5 extra minutes out of her day, the type to loan her phone if someone needs to make a call and theirs is dead, your every day good samaritan.

♡ very vesitle when it comes to spooning. big spoon, little spoon, she doesn't give a damn. as long as she's cuddled up with you she's content.

♡ she alternates between black and pink hair pretty frequently, but she always sports her messy mullet/undercut combo. her hair is bleached beyond saving, split ends galore, and her bangs are very much-self trimmed. if you care about the hair on your head do NOT let her near it (said with love)

nsfw:

♡ abby, ellie, sevika, ambessa, it doesn't matter you know why? she outmunches them ALL. she lives for it. suckling your puffy clit between her swollen lips, lapping every drop of cum out your abused cunt with her tongue, getting her cheeks and lips and nose absolutely drenched in nothing but you. she would spend the rest of her days down there if it was socially acceptable to die with your tongue in girlfriend's pussy.

♡ "she's a bottom bitch!" "no, she's a hard dom!" guys, guys....she's a switch. plain and simple, simple and plain.

♡ is she bottom leaning? is she top leaning? who knows? all that matters is she enjoys taking the pipe just as much as she enjoys laying it. my opinions of her preference have definitely changed over time. at first, i thought she was a stone top, then i figured she was a pillow princess, then i thought she was a bottom leaning switch who wasn't a fan of topping. but i've evolved and so have my hcs for her.

♡ loves receiving, don't get me wrong, but giving is always her first and foremost priority. her love languages are acts of service and physical touch, and what better way to combine the two than in bed?

♡ the strap is a solid 7 ½ inches with a decent girth and is hot pink ^_^. she knows how to sling it too!

♡ adores it when you're on top of her and just riding away. you'll grab her jaw, forcing her to make eye contact as she feebly bucks her hips into yours (even though you're clearly the one setting the pace). it's definitely a workout, and your thighs are oh so sore the next day, but it's worth it to see the way the poor thing has to fight to keep her eyes open as the harness slams on her clit repeatedly. she's gripping onto your hips for dear life, fighting off her orgasm the best she can because you need to cum first and she doesn't want to be selfish. but you just make it so difficult for her (spoiler: she cums first).

♡ now she wasn't 100% a virgin when she first met you. she's fooled around with a couple of girls, maybe gave a little head here and a little fingering there. but she wasn't by any means experienced. or at least not in the way you were. so when she finally found her way into your bed, you had to show her exactly how you wanted to be pleasured, forcing her to sit allll the way on the edge of the bed as you shuffled closer to the headboard, legs spread and 2 of your fingers curling so deep that your squelches could be heard in the other room. don't worry, she's a very fast learner.

♡ cream machine ™. it's slippery and slimy and white as snow, oozing out like she just spilled a glass of milk on her lap. whether she's strapping you or you have shoved against the nearest wall, fingers stuffing her full, it always drips down the expanse of her thighs.

♡ her eyes cross when she cums. her o face in general is sooooo adorable, all red faced and puffy cheeked as she squeals. but her eyes? they point in two entirely different directions, her brain so haywired with pleasure that her vision's out of whack.

♡ her nipples might as well be two more clits with how sensitive they are. they were already....responsive prior to her getting metal shoved inside them. but now? jesus, she can (and has. and will continue to) creaming her boxers just by you gently pulling them between your lips, tracing the grove with your tongue as you whine your hips against hers.

♡: what she likes being called when you fuck can range from "daddy" to "good boy" to "princess" to "angel". her sense of gender binary is utterly fucked (period!) and just goes with whatever her fuzzy head likes at whatever given moment.

♡: if you're not already an athlete or at least someone who frequents the gym....i pray for you. you should pray for yourself as well, because this bitch has the stamina of a horse on coke. if y'all start fucking at 11 she won't be ready for a break until 1. that break only lasts for 7 minutes before she proceeds to fuck you until 4. one more break, and she has another 45 minutes worth of gas in the tank before she's ready to tap out (#girlmath). and even THEN, she'll hop out of bed with a spring in her step and a twinkle in her eye while you're laid out on the mattress wondering who tf you are and rethinking all of your life decisions. tread carefully.

#👩🏿‍❤️‍💋‍👩🏿#i cooked #vi x fem reader #vi arcane #vi x reader #arcane vi #vi smut #vi x you #vi x black reader #wlw post #lesbian blog #wlw blog #poc lesbian #lesbian #sapphic #wlw nsft #sapphic nfst

195 notes · View notes

relia-robot-writes · 3 months ago

Text

I am the Princess in the Tower.

You know, people hear that, and they say, "Oh, that poor Princess, she must be so lonesome up there. Some cruel fate must have befallen her, to be trapped so."

It's true, to a certain extent. I am lonesome. There's no shortage of princes and princesses - I have to wonder where they all come from - who come to try to rescue me from my captivity. None of them ever get particularly close, of course. The Tower is surrounded by a dark and tangled wood, monsters of flesh and stone stalk the grounds, invisible barriers and devious traps block all entry, and even if they got to the base of the Tower, they'd have to figure out how to climb up a sheer, frictionless vertical surface while automatically triggered fireballs rained down upon them... it's pretty well defended, is what I'm trying to say. Every single one of them gets sent packing, cursing the wizard who built the Tower and imprisoned me.

Which is, you know, pretty funny, when you get right down to it.

I mean, it's only natural to assume that, right? Wizards are mysterious, they pop in and out all the time. If one decides to suddenly vanish one day, well, he's probably just off calculating the angles of reality, or whatever, he'll be back. And if a girl appears in his Tower, well, of course he kidnapped a Princess for his own unfathomable wizard purposes.

It hardly matters that there aren't any kingdoms missing a Princess.

I don't correct them, anyway. It's safer for me if nobody knows who I am, or how I've changed. Safety was, after all, why I built the Tower in the first place. You think wizards do this for fun? Out in the middle of nowhere, forced to conjure food and water? Having to walk up and down twenty flights of stairs if I feel like going outside?

Wizards build towers when they are scared shitless.

See, I cast this divination spell when I was an apprentice, and I fucked it up. It constantly shows me visions of my own doom...

Not buying it?

Well, there was this devil, see, and I tricked him into thinking I'd signed my soul away, so now he stalks me forever, seeking vengeance through the very shadows themselves...

No good?

Well, I was cursed as a wee babe, and now all the world is my enemy, from the mightiest warrior to the softest blade of grass, and each one thirsts for my blood!

...I would have died to that one, like, immediately, huh.

Okay. Fine. I'm just... a coward. I built my Tower as far away from everything and everyone that could possibly do me harm as I could. I studied magic because it felt like the best way to avoid any and all hard work, conflict, and danger. I held off on telling anyone anything about who I truly was or what I wanted until I felt I could be absolutely safe.

And still, with "rescuers" at my door just waiting for my hand, I can't bear to look at them. The idea of one even getting close enough to attempt to climb the Tower (it's happened more than once) is terrifying. I could ask them to stop, but who would believe me? "Yes, I, the Princess in the Tower, am totes fine, please go away forever thanks, I am not an evil wizard." That'd go over well.

There's another princess that just made her way through the Woods and slayed one of my constructs. She'll be at the Tower base soon. She's got really pretty hair

I wish

I hope that you

Please don't

I'm writing this down here, and then I'm gonna go hide. If you're reading this,

The blue-armored princess flipped the paper over to the other side. It was blank. Her hair smoldered from the fireball she'd almost dodged, and she drummed her fingers on the hilt of her blade as she reread the first side. Aside from the paper, the room - and, indeed, the entire interior of the Tower - seemed completely empty.

#relia writes #eggbug writes #fantasy #first thing ive written in kind of a while #im considering running away from a lot of things #a tower sounds really nice right now

293 notes · View notes

bogleech · 1 year ago

Text

TOP TEN DINOSAURUSES

maybe you're wondering my most tenned favorite dinosauruses??? The science study of dinasacacers is called "dinosaurusology" by leading experts like myself, and it is constantly changing as we make new uncoveries almost every tuesday when we find new bones in my cousin rob's garage (he hasn't thrown anything out since the 90's!) As such bear in mind that up to two facts I am about to share could become dated over the course of the next century, however as both the king and queen of science this will only be true if I'm still available to approve the new facts. If I'm dead or kind of tired then nobody will ever know what's true anymore so you should be nice to me. #10: OVIRAPTOR

OVIRAPTOR was a good model for what all dinosacans were like: it was a wrinkly lizard that slithered in filthy dirt and had difficulty standing upright because its bones were made of rocks. This is why we have the term "the stone age," so be grateful you're living in "the bone age!" Oviraptor's name means "eggs velociraptor" because it was a kind of velociraptor that stole eggs. It didn't know what to do with them because nobody invented cooking yet and raw dinosaur eggs were disgusting, so every oviraptor starved to death.

#9: IGUANADON

This was the last known photograph of IGUANA DON (not to be confused with his cousin iguana dan) when george washington invented photographs 2 million years ago. Don was an ugly disgusting hilarious lizard monster with one horn on its nose and he died because he evolved a dining room in his torso exactly the right size for 21 cavemen to walk in and eat his kidneys. This was not helped by don's instinct to sleep on a big porch under a chandelier.

#9 DIMETRODON

DIMETRODON was the most common dinosaur of jurassic, which was the fifth and final era of dinosaurs after the ice age but before the ediacaran. In fact dimetrodon was the very last dinosaur to ever exist on earth before they were all eaten to death by the ediacaran's dominant predator: a species of swirly looking weird rock. Nobody knows why these swirly looking weird rocks died out, but it's most likely because dimetrodon was so poisonous from its diet of entirely pufferfish. You can tell it was a sea dinosaur because of its fish fin! #8: PTERADACTYL

PTERODACTYL was a regular dinosaur until it got married to a species of bat and its bat wife laid a bunch of pterodactyl eggs! This woodcut is however inaccurate: flying would not be invented until president obama discovered the first airplane in 1998, so pterodactyl couldn't possibly have stayed in the air and just immediately fell. The long 900 million year reign of the pterodactyl abruptly ended when the last one finally hit the ground (it took longer in those days because the oxygen disaster made so much more air) #7 SNORKASAURUS

SNORKASAURUS was completely unique among all dinocaurs by having a really long neck. It was one of the largest creatures to ever roam the earth at over 7 feet tall, or exactly 12 meters to those of you living in Liberia or Myanmar! This is the last known photograph of snorkasaurus, giving birth to the first cavemen. Snorkasaurus went extinct because all of them did this instead of making baby snorkasauruses. This is because like all dinosaurii they had only a tiny peanut for a brain, and nobody was around to give them 'the talk' because that wasn't invented yet.

#6 SMILODON

SMILODON was a very special dinosaurn because it was the first one to stand up on its hind legs after years of rigorous exercise and weight training. By inventing this new way of walking, Smilodon made it possible for the first monkeys to evolve! This is called "convergent" evolution.

#5 BULBASAUR

BULBASAUR was a majestic and beautiful species of neopet unfortunately disliked by the scientific community because it is the reason there are no flying dinosuars. Bulbasaur was the first ever flying dyanasar ever invented, 19 billion years ago on September 10, 2001, but the project was discontinued when its first test flight ended in a tragic accident. That's right: on September 11, 2001, Bulbasaur crashed into the stock market, causing the great depression that lead to the civil war :'( now to this very day, flying dinosarers are against the law.

#4 YOSHI

YOSHI is a type of dinersaulophus called a "bird," which was actually the second attempt by early neanderthal alchemists to manufacture a street legal flying dinnersauran, but the New Zealand government realized if dinophlofbuses can fly, then bats would no longer be special, and since bats are New Zealand's only major export it would have been an economic disaster. The queen of Australia (New Zealand's largest city) ordered the CIA to sand all of the wings off of these early prototype birds. Every bird tragically went extinct when it looked down, noticed how high up it was and remembered it could not fly, activating the effects of Earth's gravitational field.

#3 ANOMALOCARIS

ANOMALOCARIS was the dinosorcerous that discovered the first primitive cave painting of a modern day crab and invented carcinisation. All the other dinanders laughed at Anomalocaris for wanting to turn into a crab, but guess what??? Every single kind of dinosaur is dead but there's a crab still alive at 29, making it the oldest person in the world. Who's FUCKING laughing now!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

#2 EARL SINCLAIR

This is the last known photograph of Earl Sinclair, seen here as an uncredited extra in "Avatar 3: Lost in New York." Earl Sinclair was a sindonaur species that could disguise itself as a human by putting on sunglasses, a necessary adaptation in order to hide from the largest predator dancasore to ever live: Mellisuga helenae. However, near the end of the coal age, M. Helenae finally remembered that sunglasses hadn't even been invented yet. Look carefully, and you'll notice nobody is wearing sunglasses at all in this scene, making Earl Sinclair stick out like a sore thumb! If you're still having difficulty, here's a zoomed in image of this majestic thunder lizard:

Unfortunately......this wardrobe malfunction made Mr. Sinclair just as obvious to his ancient enemy, and the last Earl Sinclair's brains were sucked out on September 11, 2001, the darkest day in British history because he was the only one who knew the recipe to chicken mcnuggets (the only british food.) To this day all british people are extinct but you can still see their fossilized skeletons waiting in line at the department of motor vehicles.

#1 CONCAVENATOR

Concavenator was an Early Cretaceous carcharodontosaurid up to six meters in length with an unusual pointed crest on its back.

#science #dinosaurs #paleobiology #paleoart #nature #animals #lizards #reptiles #birds #ADAD don't get mad at me I actually hope if you ever see this you just find it cute and enjoy the convoluted references I put in

3K notes · View notes

moonydustx · 1 year ago

Text

A not so funny story

requests | mastelist

Summary: With Uta controlling everyone and the marine attacking, you needed to contain an unconscious Law who was looking to join the fight. Now, you need to deal with the consequences of him finding out about this.

Pairing: Trafalgar Law x F!Reader

Warnings: blood, Law hurts Reader (not on purpose), they both love each other, but they are idiots who don't know how to talk. Law doesn't know how to express his feelings in this one. Angst, kinda fluff/happy ending.

W/C: 3.6k

A/N: I just saw the movie Red and the idea came to my mind. I need to shake off the rust and get back to writing, I thought it would be a good solution. Despite being linked to the film OP Red, there may be some things that differ from the canon.

For those who haven't seen the film, a spoiler-free context: in the film, we see a singer called Uta, who Bepo is a fan of and, together with Law, go to the show. Problems happen, she puts everyone to sleep and with her power, she manipulates these sleeping people to fight with other people who want to stop her.

italics apply to flashbacks and thoughts

Part 2 | Part 3 (NSFW)

The cold stone beneath you contrasted with your hot, sweaty body. You could feel the wounds burning on your body and if you reached out your hand, you could find the cause of them, your captain.

In the distance, you could hear someone calling your name and it didn't take long for Penguin to appear in your field of vision.

"Are you okay?"

"He gave me a hard time, but I'm fine. And you?" You grumbled, sitting up and taking in your surroundings. Apparently everyone had gone back to sleep.

"We're tired but fine. You're bleeding, do you need any help?"

"Everything is fine." You stood, with his help. "We need to get them out of here, I doubt the marines will miss the chance to catch so many pirates gathered in one place. At the very least, this will end in a fight."

You chose to help carry Bepo back to Polar Tang. Even though he was big, sharing the weight would be much easier than carrying Law alone. As soon as you entered the submarine, you disappeared from sight, leaving all of Uta's fight behind.

"Do you guys need help? I can see some pretty bad injuries from here." Ikkaku approached, already stopping the blood on your forehead. "Are they both okay?"

"We should take them to the infirmary and keep them under observation." you warned, seeing two other crew members carry them out of sight. "Can we get away from the fight?"

"Yeah, off their radar." someone answered you in the background.

"Perfect, keep us at this depth, keep an eye on the radios, any sign of change, if Law hasn't woken up, you look for me." You leaned against one of the tables, trying to ignore some of the pain in your body.

It was supposed to be just a quick show, at least that's what Bepo had said. Unfortunately for Law, he ended up being the polar bear's requested companion.

"Sure you don't want to change places with me?" Law appeared next to you, while you finished cleaning the kitchen.

"No captain, I'll be right here, with my duties." You smiled at him and, despite being frustrated, he let out a sideways smile.

"You know that I'm the captain right? That I can give the order and you have to go and I don't."

"You wouldn't be so mean, would you?" you asked indignantly and on one of the few occasions, you heard him laugh, even if it was low tone. "Captain!"

"I'm kidding. Just keep an eye on everything, okay? Don't let Shachi and Penguin cause any trouble."

"Yes, sir. And you, enjoy the show."

You were almost regretting not accepting the proposal. Law would certainly be much better at containing you and preventing you from getting into a big fight than you would be doing the opposite. But you liked the idea of him trusting you.

"Everything is alright?" Ikkaku took you out of your reverie, noticing your body slightly bent and the blood falling on your forehead.

"Try holding back a furious Trafalgar Law from wanting to get into a fight and tell me if that's okay." You laughed, even though it took some of the air out of you. "Just a few bruises, nothing major."

"Come on, I'll help you take care of this." Ikkaku gently pulled you by the hand.

"Boys, do you deal with them?" you asked and they both nodded. "If Law wakes up, don't say anything to him about our little fight."

"You mean, about the big fucking beating he gave you?" Shachi teased you, earning a push.

"Exactly. He has bigger problems to worry about than dealing with this."

You and Ikkaku headed towards the dorm you shared. Your friend made a point of supporting you at every step, even if you insisted it wasn't necessary. She sat you down on the bed and grabbed a small first aid kit hidden on one of the shelves.

"Why not tell the captain?"

"Outch" you mumbled with one of the stitches she had on your face. "I have a feeling he's not going to like that we got into this fight without his presence."

"I think he'll be more resentful that you were the one who held him back." You laughed at her silly observation, then grumbled with another needle. Damn fight. "Don't act stupid."

"What you mean?"

"I'll let you choose. Between you being the only one who can steal books from him without him complaining or about every time we disembark, you having to be on his side. Should I mention that time he freaked out because Kid wanted to take you to the crew from him?" she laughed to herself, at her own memory. "What do you need to see that he likes you too?"

"And who said I like him?"

"Okay, you still want to keep hiding your feelings for him, just hide it better." she laughed again. It was clear to her - and anyone else who saw - that there was something between the two of you. You just prefer not to feed this illusion. "Still, I agree that he won't like all this one bit. Let's try to keep out of his sight."

Law was still trying to assimilate everything that happened. Uta's show had turned into a war scene and in the end, even he had become a puppet. That idea would haunt him for a long time.

Despite recent events, Polar Tang was quiet, too quiet. He could hear some buzzing, nothing he could identify. Another thing he couldn't place was you. The last time he saw you, he had tried to bargain for your presence at the show, even though he had asked to change places with you, he didn't think the idea of going with you was bad. You'd probably hate the song, but he'd enjoy your sarcastic comments about any awkward situation. A small laugh crossed his lips when he thought about what you would say to see little Bepo.

At dinner, he observed Shachi, Penguin and Bepo, talking to each other. The concerned expressions denoted the seriousness of the matter, but that could come later. Even though he slept through it all, he still felt tired.

At lunch the next day, again, nothing from you. Ikkaku was also missing. It was impossible for the two of them to have disappeared together and without any justification. He tried not to think about the worst-case scenarios, but no matter how much he denied it, he wasn't such an optimistic person.

It only took a few seconds of your three companions stalling for him to know that you and Ikkaku were up to something or had already been up to something. He left them behind, following with firm steps to your room.

"I didn't see you two at lunch or yesterday at dinner, I wanted to know..." you two found Law leaning against the door of your room. His relaxed position disappeared in seconds when he looked at where Ikkaku's hand joined your forehead. "What happened?"

"Just a few scratches, nothing major." your colleague replied before you could open your mouth. She knew - actually, you weren't that good at hiding it - about your feelings and how easily you could wrap your head around your own words.

"Yeah, they're from yesterday, some scratches." you tried to complement, the captain's serious expression made it clear that that hadn't helped at all.

"Nothing much and that's why you haven't shown up since yesterday?" he grumbled and before he could continue his lecture, he felt his body being pushed forward, with Bepo, Shachi and Penguin falling beside him. "What the fuck?"

"We just wanted to know if you already know that she was the one..." before the bear finished speaking, the other two covered his mouth.

The grey eyes trailed from you to Ikkaku, to the group lying next to him, and back to you again. The small stress that was forming inside Law turned into concern when he saw the small trickle of blood dripping from your eyebrow.

It only took a few moments away for you to appear like that and he would never tolerate that, you didn't need to know about his feelings or how he was already thinking about taking revenge on whoever had done that, he would deal with it after taking care of your wound .

"Everyone out." you made to follow Ikkaku, stopping a few meters away. "Not you, I need to see this."

The door to the small room knocked subtly behind Law, who waited for a few seconds to approach you. The two of you already had a considerable height difference, but when you felt Law's cold, tattooed fingers on your chin, you felt even smaller. He turned both sides of your face, despite the cold touch, you could feel your skin burn beneath his fingers.

"You're warm, but I don't see any trace of infection." Not this one, you thought. "Give me the name?"

"Name?"

"Which idiot did this?" he replied without much patience, his fingers leaving your face behind.

"This is going to be a funny story." you laughed, stopping immediately when you saw him look deep into your eyes, his expression serious in an almost irritating way.

"Someone decided to hurt one of my crew. I don't think it's such a funny story. Who did it?"

"Captain of the Heart Pirates, Trafalgar Law." your answer didn't seem to catch him instantly, with each word that left your mouth, you could see him getting paler and paler. "I believe you already know, but Uta managed to control everyone who was asleep to attack the pirates and the marines and with that, you and Bepo were also controlled. The boys held Bepo and I had to deal with you, but everything is fine. "

"They told me about Bepo..." he seemed lost for words, taking a certain distance from you and leaning on the small table in your room. "So you restrained me, alone?"

"You, actually Uta, didn't have access to your Devil Fruit powers, it ended up being easier. After all, our mission was just to keep you two away from the navy." you explained, leaning on the opposite side to where he was, seeing his crestfallen expression. "Like I said, it's okay captain."

"Where else did I hurt you?" the question took you by surprise, making it difficult to hide your reaction. "I know my strength, I have a feeling it wasn't just that. I could see it myself, but I trust you, so please."

With your fists clenched and your gaze following your every step, Law could see your hand go to your ribs, along with a grumble, as you bent down to pick up a small cloth and fill it with something that smelled similar to alcohol. As much as he noticed you trying hard, he could see you limping. He watched you smear the contents on one of your cheeks and your arm, revealing some bruises.

You stopped in front of him, letting him analyze. Despite the pain throughout your body, Law's proximity was almost like an anesthetic. If he stayed there, you wouldn't mind spending the day under his gaze. Law took your arm, gently sliding his fingers under the bruise, watching you flinch in discomfort. His hands practically put your arm back in place and placed themselves on the zipper of your jumpsuit.

Your hands placed themselves next to his, pulling the device and opening the entire piece. Of all the times he had dreamed of touching your skin, none had felt like this. He liked to imagine how soft it would be, to think about how your body would shiver, to feel with his own lips every piece of exposed skin, while he heard you ask for more. All the purple spots he had dreamed of leaving on your skin were nothing like the one he saw. Thoughts would need to be put aside at that moment.

His hand knocked down one side of your jumpsuit, showing the large bruise on your rib, which made him hold his breath for a few seconds.

"What else?" his voice was barely audible. He knew there was more to it, but he didn't want to be invasive.

"Just this cut." you took off the other strap of your jumpsuit and let it fall below your waist, showing the wound on your thigh. It wasn't that big, but when you both looked at the place, you understood where all the warmth in your body was coming from. "Shit. It wasn't like this last time I looked." actually it was, you just wanted to spare him the worry.

You adjusted your jumpsuit, leaving the top hanging around your waist. Your eyes searched for Law's, but he seemed to be far away, even just a few centimeters away. For some time, he didn't say anything. His eyes followed one point you had shown and others, looking for other signs. His hands prostrated in front of his body, why had he done that? Why hurt you?

"Law?"

"I...I..." the words seemed stuck somewhere inside him. His hands placed themselves next to your face, a gesture you hadn't received from him yet. "I don't know how to apologize. Forgive me, I didn't want any of this to happen."

"No need, Law, really. I was doing what any of us would do, taking care of our crew, taking care of our captain."

Again the words seemed to have escaped him. He just wished he could hold you and apologize a thousand times, hold you there and heal every little part of you and never allow anything to hurt you again. Some conscious side of him screamed in the background that this wasn't anyone's fault, but the sound seemed so far away to hear, while the picture of what he had done was so close to him.

A few seconds passed, his hands were still on your face, while you just enjoyed the awkward affection you received. He didn't know how to deal with that feeling, it was a guilt like he had never felt. Along with a fear, a need to see you well. There were too many things to deal with and at that moment, he chose to be the most rational one.

"It's infected and may have broken something." Law let his medical side take control of the situation. "Room. Shambles."

Before you even noticed the blue dome surrounding you, the two of you had already been transported to the infirmary. You remained standing in your place as you watched the captain hurriedly walk around the room, collecting some materials and before you could try to get on the stretcher, the two of you were already being taken to another place.

The table full of books, the small window of the Polar Tang showing some little orange fish passing by outside, a cozy bed, even with the sheets spread out. That definitely wasn't your room. You watched Law leave the materials on the table and reach Kikoku. You saw the blue dome again, this time, you knew that he was using his powers to confirm that you had indeed presented all your injuries to him.

"I was worried about your rib, but apparently it was just the bruise. Now about your leg, I may need to redo those stitches and medicate you. I can't let the infection spread."

You knew he was nervous, bordering on anxious, but you had known him long enough to know that stopping him from treating you would be even worse. You had chosen to hide your injuries so that Law wouldn't feel guilty, now that he knew, you didn't have much else to do.

"Law." you called out to him carefully, as he prepared the medication. "Do you mind if I bathe first?"

"Sure, I mean, no problem. Just wait a second." He walked away from the table and piled up some things, which he handed into your hand. "Here's my towel, I also left some clothes in case you want to use them, if you don't want to, that's okay. I can ask Ikkaku..."

"This is perfect, thank you Law." you hugged the small bundle of clothes close to your body.

"Room." again, in a matter of seconds, you were at the bathroom door. "I'm sorry, but your leg is really hurt, you shouldn't force it while walking."

"Okay" unlike the time he had taken you to the infirmary, now he had transported you close to each other, which made the air disappear from your lungs. "Can you wait for me? I mean, you said I wouldn't I should force my leg and..."

"I'll be outside, just call me and I'll be here." Please call me, Law's inner voice practically screamed.

Your shower was much quicker than you expected. Just knowing that he was waiting for you outside made butterflies fight in your stomach. You gently dried your body and took the clothes he had given you. Something that looked like shorts - it might have been underwear, but you didn't worry about that right now - and a black button-down shirt. As soon as you button the last button, you can pay attention to the smell of the fabric. Something soft, woody, you wondered if that was his scent.

"Law?" All it took was a small call and he soon entered the bathroom. Not as discreetly as he expected, his eyes roamed your body. "Can you help me?"

"Of course" your feet left the floor, giving you a few seconds to assimilate that he had picked you up and carried you back to the room. He hadn't done this before, but you preferred to just enjoy the sensation, locking your arms around his neck.

With a few steps inside the room, he placed you lying on the bed, pulling a rod further to the side, only then did you notice the hanging IV.

Law bent down, reaching your arm level, cleaning it with a small piece of cotton. He looked at the wound on your leg. In silence, he cleaned the area and took some bandages, placing them across the entire length of the wound. The contrast between your warm skin and his cold hands was strangely comfortable. You wished they would last a little longer there.

"I think we can leave these stitches for another day, but I need you to take this medicine. It's an antibiotic, the infection is small, but I'd rather take care of it soon." He pulled the small needle, seeing your face pale. "I'm sorry darling, but it's the best option we have."

Darling.

That word would echo in your mind for a long time. The fear of the needle that was about to come into contact with your skin eased when you saw the care he took with each gesture.

"Just don't look, okay?" He waited for you to close your eyes. "Just a few seconds and that's it. You'll feel sleepy, but that's normal. As soon as you wake up, I'll bring you something to eat."

He got up and started to adjust the pillows on the bed, the ones that were around and under you. His hands rested around your body, his body was on top of yours, even without any immediate contact. It was inevitable not to get lost in his eyes, or see him do the same with yours. You would like to engrave that in your memory, forever.

"Are you comfortable?" his face still had the same tense expression from the first moment he found you in the room.

"I am, I promise." you replied, in a burst of courage, you brought your hand to his face, touching his cheek. "Law, what worries you so much?"

He walked away, sitting at the foot of the bed. You just straightened up so you could look at him. His tattooed hands took off his hat, fingers tangling against the dark strands.

"I can't deal with the fact that I did this. I did this to you. Of all the people that could have been there, I hurt you." he grumbled, turning so he could look at you. "You do not understand."

"Actually, I understand." your answer left him stunned for a few seconds. "But don't blame yourself, you didn't choose this, captain"

"I know, but at the same time..." he huffed, trying to find the right words, which scratched his insides every time he looked at your scourged face. "You understand me, huh? I mean, I don't just see you as a crew member and something tells me you don't just see me as your captain. And knowing that of all the things that could have happened, I hurt you. I promise compensate you for everything."

"About what you said, about what we see in each other." your thought was interrupted by a long yawn. "What should we do about this?" You made to get up, but the IV attached seemed to transmit drowsiness straight to your body. Your eyes were already starting to get heavy.

"That we can deal with this later. You took care of me, now it's my duty to take care of you. For that, you need to rest." His hands reached yours, giving a slight laugh when he saw you fighting with your own eyes, wanting to leave them open. "I promise not to hurt you again or let anyone else hurt you."

Before you fall asleep for good, you can feel his lips on your hand.

#one piece #op imagines #trafalgar law #trafalgardwaterlaw #law x reader #trafalgar d law x reader #law x you #no use of y/n #fiction #reader insert #trafalgar law x reader #requests open #one piece film red #heart pirates

973 notes · View notes

tarotbyjam24 · 6 days ago

Text

What are your gifts and abilities?

Likes , reblogs and feedbacks are very much appreciated 💗

Disclaimer: this is general reading . It may or may not resonate . If reading doesn't resonate let it fly and choose another pile or simply there were no messages for you through this reading 😊 Take the reading lightly as nothing's set in stone until you believe so 🕊️

Thankyou for stopping by let's dive in ☄️ Choose the pile you feel most drawn to 🧸

Pick a piles \masterlist

If you like my work you can now tip me on kofi too ,leave 🖤 emoji while tipping me because @winisayswhat and I both share same accounts and it'll help us distinguish our tips ♡

Pile 1 Pile 2

Pile 1

pile 1 : Hi pile 1 , let's see what's there for you through this reading:) you're good at thinking out of box ,you've open mindset ,ready to accept new things , you've broad horizons , you're also good at praying so like in the sense of sprituality you can get your wishes granted by doing prayers . I'm also getting hopohopono prayer . You're also good at fighting be it verbal or physical means you just have a good body built or you could have air signs dominancy in your charts even mercury too . You also have a great gift of instropection which makes you shine among others . I also feel your throat chakra could be very active too if not you should work with that chakra . You also have the ability to come out of the saddest situations . No matter how much hurt you have been you alsways come out through it breaking all the walls and face it all with great responsibility without being embarrassed about your life's situations. I also feel you have an amazing ability of leading things innately . People may also get hypnotize by you when they see you . People may also like to do what you say without questioning it . You have ability of creating a mind map for the things in your brain like those people who will think it all in their brain first from zero to end and then put it down on paper . This is giving solving a biggg equation in your mind and then just writing a single line answer . I feel people may get happy after they see you like you've this vibe to yourself that changes the air of the room you enter in . It's your aura that does it . You're also the one who don't likes to take advice from others and just do whatever their heart truly desires . You don't run from problems . You fight them with the swords in both hands . When life throw lemon at you ,you make lemonade Outta them . That's all pile 1 I hope you enjoyed the reading . Bless you 🍪 see y'a soon🖤

Pile 2

pile 2 : Hi pile 2 ,let's see what's there for you through this reading :) you have this magical ability in yourself through which you can see through dark and be the light for others . You're also kinda magic stick that helps others to find the magic within themselves. I feel you may also have good physique without working out or you may have a strong gut with fast mukbang metabolism. You're the person who likes to be in their world . If you're alone it won't bother you at all but you're most likely to create something when you're alone like you can get mind-blowing ideas when you're in your own world. You're for real super innovative. You're also definition of live more lives dance more dances . You also got thid motherly nature to you regardless of genders .you maybe the mama bear of your friend group . You're also the one who can protect everyone . You're people's rock pile 2 .You're also super passionate. You've this constant fire to move forward in life doesn't matter if people stay with you or not . You're constantly levelling up all 4 seasons but you also take care of yourself which sometimes people forget . You're someone who doesn't get swayed away . You've very strong supportive system build for yourself whether it's you alone or people around . You can also be your strongest support system. It doesn't always need to be people around us . Sometimes they're the one who breaks it . That's all pile 2 I hope you enjoyed the reading . Bless you 🍪 . See y'a soon🖤

Please leave 🖤 if you tip for @tarotbyjam24 and leave 💗 if you tip for @winisayswhat as we both share same kofi account

I hope you liked the reading . Thank you so much for letting me read for you . Wishing you best ahead . 🎀Bless you and have a nice day🌸🐰

Loads of love , jam\gem

Exchanges : open , collabs for paps : open

173 notes · View notes

shehungers · 20 days ago

Text

OF FLESH SIN

vampire priest x reader | 2.6k | 18+

a ghastly sight! one of the monastery's beloved priests has been found brutally murdered and disfigured in his chambers. father shaw, a newer addition to the monastery, claims to have answers to sate your reaching curiosity—but he wishes for you to come to his chambers at night.

story warnings; dark content, time period inaccuracies, graphic + gruesome details, vampires are predators, power imbalance, kinda obsessive behavior, prose + detail heavy, mention of animal death, hypnotism (kinda), very yandere behavior, roughly proofread.

reposted from my old blog: theoxenfree.

please consider leaving feedback + reblogging!

Father Marius died in quite some awful way last night, as reported to you by the nuns hanging fresh washed garments on the clothesline in the waning, purpling daylight.

“A look of horror! Utter terror! So frightened that his jaw had become dislocated in forever a scream,” shivered one young nun, Lucy; recently a convert from the slums. “I, well, I didn't see it myself. Neither did the rest of us, actually. They say it was that new Father Shaw who found him at dawn.”

You had been raking gravel out of the yard, tiny stones kicked off of the path into the kempt lawn by prancing horses and wagon wheels, when Lucy and the other nun, Esme, had caught your attention with their hard, dense gossip. They regarded your approach with less caution than they would have had with their other sisters, as gossip was deemed inappropriate, a violation, a flickering serpent’s tongue carrying covert temptations leading to luscious sins and debauchery.

They saw you—poor, morose, the groundskeeper's only child and reminder of loveless trysts—and thought nothing of snaking you into their prattle. You were not the sort to divulge anyone's secrets without gain, without reward, and you knew that the nuns kept nothing to their names once they took their vows and donned their habits.

“Father Shaw,” you continued the discussion with some intrigue, mostly from the fact that he was very new, very young, and modestly handsome, “why was he awake so early? Why was he in Father Marius’ chambers? Curious to me.”

Neither of them gave much caution to your questions, shrugging as if to dismiss your ambivalence and accusatory tone. You were bold in the way that the faithless and lost always tended to be: asking senseless things, always concerned with the wrongdoings of others, always suspicious, always inquiring—forever inquiring.

“Oh, my, you're so defensive,” Esme fanned a yellow bedspread out with an oncoming breeze, catching the wind beneath the fabric so it billowed and rippled midair. “If that’s how you're going to be, then: why does your father stumble around the yard at night with a lantern, swinging around a pistol like a madman? Won't he hurt someone?”

Because he's a godless, superstitious drunk. Perhaps, even, a bit disturbed in his mind, but you couldn't bear to think that way, that he might be the type to need his head locked in a metal cage, gagged, arms bound, and padlocked in some damp, distant corner of an asylum.

“He's a good man,” you relented, taking your hands from the top of the smoothed out, worn handle of the rake and resumed your task. The gravel made an awful, grinding sound as the teeth of the rake collected pieces of stone and led it back to the rest. “He's served this monastery well. I don't mean offense about Father Shaw, I'm simply curious about what transpired is all.”

“No offense taken,” came a voice from behind, startling both the twittering nuns and yourself at the same time. They saw it to be Father Shaw standing there, hands cuffed behind his back with a particularly demure disposition, hiked their skirts and whisked themselves away back inside. “Ah, am I really such a frightful figure? I couldn't really find an opening during your conversation to invite myself in. I apologize.”

You were of a similar fretful nature, quickening your clawing and the reach of the rake. “Nay, Father. I think it's simply because you're a strange man to them still. A handsome face, a warm voice, mysterious; give them time, they'll come around.”

“Have you?” Father Shaw asked, taking measured strides in a half-circle around to your front. He concentrated on where the teeth of your instrument struck next, tips temporarily wedged into the soft dirt before being ripped up with chunks of earth and gray gravel. “It wouldn't do for me if you… were still ill at ease with me as well. I consider you my one, true friend in this place.”

Your father held a certain destestation towards Father Shaw that you'd never witnessed before, saying nothing else than that something was terribly wrong with him and not to place yourself in a position to be alone with him. This you attributed to his unsoundness, but it was always the sudden flicker a sharp breath against candlelight—a jarring shift in his demeanor when he spoke about the Father, neurotic and prone to throwing things about the cottage interior, that caused you to pay some mind to what he told you.

“And, you're a great friend of mine as well,” you hoped you sounded coherent and paced your words evenly enough. “I'm sorry if you thought I was accusing you of something, sir. I really meant nothing to it.”

Father Shaw’s lips sprawled tight and pale into a fond smile, never showing his teeth, though the imprint of them seemed massive and the skin of his lips startlingly thin across them. “I know. You have nothing to fear. My feelings were not affected. If you'd like, come to my chambers later, we may pray together first, and I'll tell you everything you wish to know about what I saw to sate your curiosity.”

“That seems improper, sir.” You said.

“How so?”

“Inviting someone to your chambers at night seems an unbecoming venture for a pious man of status, such as yourself,” you continued, now standing upright beside your rake, “if any of the sisters were to witness it, worse another priest, aren't you afraid you'd be horribly chastised? Even worse, excommunicated altogether?”

Although Father Shaw’s dark eyes reflected no light, holding such demanding depth to them that it was hard to keep your bearings whenever you realized you'd been staring, his entire face was alight in amusement.

“Wherever did you learn to speak like that?” he asked candidly, still glowing despite his pallor. “Forgive me when I say, but your father is not an educated man. I mean no offense, please don't look at me in such a way. You are so well spoken, I only wish to know more about you.”

“I've lived here my entire life,” you told him. “The nuns taught me how to read.”

He looked impressed. “You can read?”

“I can!” From a near distance, you could make out your father’s haddard form, bent sideways on a walking cane and limping towards the pair of you. You looked up at the priest’s smooth face. “It'd be best for you to leave before my father can speak to you. He isn't the kindest soul after a long day.

Father Shaw didn't react with any semblance of worry, but agreed that there were other things needing to be done and began away. Just as he passed you on his way towards the monastery, he let his hand rest atop of your shoulder and leaned you towards him to whisper in your ear: “come to me tonight. I'll be waiting for you.”

There was something so luxurious and cooling about his voice; fine silks sitting in the shade during autumn gliding across your bare skin, wrapping your neck, your chest, your nether parts. His voice was a fine, chilly mist after the first rains in spring which felt refreshing and new after a glacial winter, yet still had capacity to soak you to the bone. It was a nighttime breeze caressing your cheek, sweeping through the hairs of your scalp, making your skin burst all over with bumps.

“I don't like the way he looks at you,” said your father with a mouthful of porridge you'd seasoned with herbs of the season. It was wonderfully fragrant and warm during nights that were still a bit too uncomfortable to sip anything cold. “He looks at you like you're a slab of meat! Some prize after a hunt. I don't like him, love. Not one bit. You'd do well to stay to mind yourself and do your chores and nothing else, y’hear?”

After dinner, you cleaned up, swept the floors with hard bristles, and snuffed all the lights except for the fireplace where your father sat in his old chair, fiddling with his favorite pistol.

“It's time for bed, old man.” You watched him fit a couple of small bullets into the loading chamber. They glinted against the orange flames. “Goodness. What have you gotten this time? Something new?"

“Aye!” he grinned, nearly toothless and in a sickly sort of way. “Went to market the other day while the nuns bullied you and picked out some fine bullets from the silversmith,” he cracked the two halves of the pistol shut. “Better to be prepared.”

You waited until sometime later once he was finally asleep, possibly after midnight, before leaving the humble cottage sitting on the fringes of the massive monastery yard and rushing across the grounds to get inside.

Once, they'd kept a guard dog on the property, one of those meaner breeds that were used for gambling, but the poor thing wound up shot dead in the middle of the night by a traveling friar who'd come to seek refuge at the monastery. The sisters, and yourself, were horribly distraught by the entire ordeal and all vetoed the consideration of bringing another dog here.

Since then, it was no task for you (or anyone else) to get inside the building and shuffle along the shadows through the corridors. At night, the place stirred with patient insects, feral rodents large and small in the pantry, and hungry owls tamely whining from the rafters when something startled them away from their hunt of vermin.

Your feet were a light sound on the masonry below, padded by thin leather soles which alerted you to your enthusiasm as the thwap thwap thwap became louder, aggressive as you closed in on a wall and turned down another hallway for a sturdy wood door at the end of it.

As your knuckles rapped, hoping the sound wouldn't disturb the animals’ nighttime caroling, a swift darkness moved across the floor from behind the door, briefly blocking out the soft light seeping out from underneath.

The next moment, you were being pulled inside and sat at a small table tucked to the side of Father Shaw’s rather generous room. It was a simple space, sparsely furnished for the barest of comforts—only for what was needed to live—but what had been made for him was of exquisite craftsmanship, some made of teakwood, which Shaw assured you was remarkably durable and highly resistant to rotting.

“It's wonderful for boats,” he said, pouring a light amber colored brew from a metal kettle he'd heated a short while ago. “It’s good for all elements, really. Exceptional longevity. I've heard it has become a popular option in the city for burying the deceased.”

“Will Father Marius be buried in a teakwood coffin, then?” you asked, sipping politely from the cup even though you had no appetite for it. You already felt ill at ease enough having disobeyed your father by sneaking into a priest's personal chambers at night. The things the sisters would say about you—

“He will be entombed underneath the monastery with the rest who have served here and passed. I believe that is all stone down there, my dear.” Father Shaw smiled tepidly, kettle aside, no tea of his own. “But, I know that your curiosity led you here to me with questions, yes? About the state I found Father Marius in, yes?”

You tried to disguise your intrigue by drinking more of the tea, of whatever it was he had given you, and listened to the sounds of your fingertips sticking to the porcelain from sweat and steam.

“If you wouldn't mind sharing…”

“I wouldn't!” he leaned on his arms on the table, closer towards you as though with a secret. “As I've said, you are truly the only soul here who I can confide in. You are not a sheep. And you do not fear sin as the rest do. So, you can ask me anything and I'll tell you everything.”

“Tell me about Father Marius, then.”

Father Shaw reached across the table for one of your hands; his far larger, fingers much longer and colder than your own and held it as he recounted the event.

“Dreadful sight, it was. It was, oh, perhaps sometime after three o'clock when I heard a massive racket. A struggle. When I knocked, all of the noise subsided at once and there was complete stillness. Silence, my dear, silence so deep, dark, and damning that I knew something awful had happened

“I didn't knock again, I was too afraid to! But, Father Marius was getting on in age, so I couldn't just stand by, either. I kicked the door in—just once was all it took—and I rushed inside to see the room was a complete mess. A fight had clearly taken place, and the walls—oh, the walls—”

His remorse was carefully placed, stiff, and uncertain and he couldn't be seen in the vastness of his black gaze. You were moved by the vulnerability he was trying to show you, going as far to abandon your drink to place your warm hand on top of his.

“The walls, my dear, were a mess of blood. Something vicious and awful had happened in that room. But, then, I found Father Marius lying there on the ground next to a broken window. I think he'd tried to throw himself through it. His face was shredded to pieces, his eyes gouged. When I got closer, I noticed that his tongue had been severed from his head!”

You were holding Father Shaw’s hands in a bloodless grip, face ashen, teeth chattering behind your lips. “What on earth! That is not only horror, but cruelty!”

“Oh, my love, it gets worse!” Father Shaw held you mesmerized in his gaze, the conviction and anguish with which he told his story. “Closer still, Father Marius’ face was locked in one of pure terror, I've—I’ve never seen a human react in quite a way such as that before, to fear. The man unhinged his own jaw in a hideous scream, and it seemed to me he was skeletal. By that, it's like he was, well, quite dry.

“So, I crouched down so much lower and inspected him all over. Do you want to know what I found?”

“Yes.” You spoke breathlessly.

Father Shaw had moved out of his seat and was on one knee in front of you, both of his frigid hands on your face to smooth across your cheeks, pushing away pieces of hair obscuring some part of you he'd wanted to see.

“My love, I saw marks in his neck. Two, beautifully, wonderfully symmetrical marks that were far too clean to be of any animal that we know of. The bite was clean, it was patient and cunning. And the fangs that had sunk into his tender flesh had drained him of blood, of the very essence that kept his heart beating until the very last.”

“Sir—” your stomach plummeted, falling forever, when he smiled, teeth longer than any humans should be shown through to you. He wouldn't let you go when you went to move out of his hands, away from him. “Father Shaw, please—”

“I wish you could have seen it, my love. It was a breathtaking sight and I long for someone else to admire the beauty of my work alongside me.”

It was unthinkable that a vampire could walk on these holy grounds and in the bright of day, yet Father Shaw had for countless days. Evil held you sweetly by the cheek and in your hair, kissed you with a corpse’s cold lips, and laved the skin of your skin with a long, serpentine tongue.

“O’, my merciful lord…”

Father Shaw bent your head back with a fistful of hair and spoke from your throat:

“There is no God, only me. Come into the endless night with me, my love.”

a/n; I'm aware this is historically inaccurate as nuns and the priest wouldn't have intermingled like this in a monastery. it's really not that big of a deal lmao.

so, two of the characters from this: father marius and father shaw, actually have been adapted as important side-characters in my upcoming possessed!scholar husband x reader story, which is based in a fictional victorian era.

they're essentially the same characters, just tweaked to fit the narrative of that story!

#yandere x you #yandere x reader #yandere #yandere x darling #yandere x y/n #vampire x reader #vampire x you #vampire x human #vampire x y/n #monster x reader #monster x human #monster fucker #monster romance #monster story #monster x you #original writing #writing #x reader #reader insert

153 notes · View notes

edenesth · 1 year ago

Text

The Way to His Heart [18]

Pairing: general!Seonghwa x wife!reader

AU: arranged marriage au (Joseon era)

Word Count: 3.7k

Summary: Life has been hell ever since your mother's passing many years ago. Despite being from a prominent family, you've never received the privileges associated with it. It only got worse with the arrival of your stepmother and her daughters. When the intimidating General Park was in search of a wife, your father seized the opportunity to dispose of you, simultaneously securing a connection with the powerful general—killing two birds with one stone.

Part 17 | Fic Masterlist | Part 19

Despite the blurring of his vision, Seonghwa desperately stumbled towards the entrance of his estate. He needed to get out of there as quickly as possible. If anyone noticed his severe wound, it would only be a matter of time before you found out too.

That was the last thing he wanted.

He had tried so hard to hide his injury from you, not wanting to cause you any more worry. Perhaps having Yeosang pursuing you wasn't such a bad thing after all. Unlike the general, the prince wouldn't have to leave for war and risk his life. His Highness also wouldn't have the burden of blood on his hands or the constant fear he instilled in you.

Most importantly, the fourth prince wasn't on the brink of death, bleeding out at this very moment. Prince Yeosang could consistently remain by your side, offering a life even more luxurious than this. Though it pained him to think about leaving you to another man's care, Seonghwa convinced himself that this was all for the best.

His gaze locked on his horse, still waiting by the entrance, servants tending to it. He was determined to ride back to the warzone, if he could survive the journey—or anywhere else, for that matter. He understood that you wouldn't be able to bear seeing him in such a state, regardless of the cruel words he'd uttered just moments ago.

That was the kind of angel you were.

From the beginning, he recognised your heart of gold. It was what endeared you to him so deeply; you were unique in that way. Despite the torture your family had subjected you to, he knew you would never wish ill upon them regardless.

This was all the more reason he couldn't allow you to discover his injury. He knew without a doubt that your heart would soften instantly and forgive him for all he had done. He couldn't afford that; he needed you to despise him. Only then would his absence hurt less, and perhaps, it would steer you toward the prince. You deserved far better than anything he could offer. Despite facing his own mortality, nothing frightened him more than the uncertainty of your well-being in the world he was about to depart from, leaving you behind.

"Master, are you departing so soon?" The servant, looking after the horse, was taken aback by his master's abrupt decision to leave. Everyone had anticipated him staying at least a day to resolve matters with the mistress and spend some time together before returning to the war site.

Seonghwa nodded, striving to maintain his composure, "Yes, assist me onto the horse. I'm needed back at the warzone."

Observing the general's slightly pale and sweaty visage, the servant refrained from commenting on it for fear of angering him. Instead, he bowed, "Of course, master."

But before your husband could even mount his horse, the last person he wanted to encounter at that moment called out to him from behind, "Yah, Park Seonghwa! How dare you try and leave without even saying hello?" He froze at Hongjoong's loud voice, a shiver of apprehension running through him as he glanced back to see his old friend, accompanied by Wooyoung, approaching, "Sir, are you really leaving already?"

Goddamnit, so close.

Meanwhile, across the estate, Yunho and Jongho hurried towards the House of Lotus, only to discover you all alone and heartbroken on the ground. The assistant gasped, rushing to help you up, "Mistress! Are you alright? Where's the general?"

Gazing up at him with tears streaking your cheeks, your heart ached at the mention of Seonghwa. Noticing the physician beside Jongho, eyes darting around urgently, you frowned in confusion, "He left not long ago... What's happening? What's wrong?"

You had remained motionless since your husband's departure, sprawled on the ground with tears streaming down your face as you struggled to comprehend the sudden change in his behaviour. Why was he treating you like this? Could there be any truth to his harsh words? Had he already grown tired of you? Just when you thought your anguish couldn't intensify, the anxiety evident on the assistant's and doctor's faces only heightened your dread.

"He left?! I'm sorry, mistress! There's no time to explain. Here, read this, and you'll understand." Jongho exclaimed urgently. Yunho dashed out as soon as he heard your words, prompting the younger man to swiftly shove a crumpled piece of paper into your hands before hurrying after the physician.

As you hastily wiped your tears, your trembling fingers unfolded the crumpled paper to reveal a letter from General Officer Song Mingi addressed to the doctor. Your heart sank to your stomach as you read the hurriedly written words.

'Physician Jung, I hope this letter finds you swiftly, for it bears urgent news concerning General Park. In the recent battle with the enemy forces, he sustained a grave injury inflicted by a weapon laced with viper venom. Upon discovering the nature of the toxin, we immediately recognised the severity of the situation. The venom acts swiftly and ruthlessly, spreading its deadly effects throughout the body if not treated promptly. Time is of the essence. I implore you to attend to the general without delay.'

Letting out a shaky exhale, the letter slipped from your trembling fingers and fell to the ground, the weight of its contents settling heavily in your chest. Every word echoed in your mind, painting a vivid picture of Seonghwa's dire situation. It felt as if the pieces of a puzzle were falling into place, revealing a truth you hadn't dared to consider before. Had he been in immense pain this entire time?

The thought sent a chill down your spine.

Was it possible that your husband's sudden shift in behaviour, his departure, and harsh words, were all a desperate attempt to protect you from the truth? Was he afraid to burden you with the knowledge of his injury, to face your worry and concern?

Park Seonghwa, you bloody idiot.

Your heart ached at the possibility. Despite the hurtful words he said to you, a wave of empathy washed over you, mingling with the fear and uncertainty swirling within.

With determination fueling every step, you left your quarters in search of the general, resolved to stand by him regardless of the obstacles ahead. Your love for him was unwavering, and you were prepared to fight for him with every fibre of your being. He was mistaken if he thought his attempts to push you away would succeed. You refused to leave his side without a fight.

As you arrived in the main courtyard, your heart lurched at the sight before you. Jongho and Wooyoung were scrambling to hold up your husband, who appeared unconscious, while Hongjoong and Yunho guided them past you, heading towards what you presumed to be Seonghwa's private quarters. Their apologetic glances only added to your distress as you stepped aside to let them pass, your eyes growing wet at the sight of his pale and weakened appearance—something you had never witnessed before.

A wave of fear washed over you as you watched him being ushered away, threatening to consume you whole. The possibility of losing him suddenly felt all too real, and you couldn't bear the thought of a world without him in it.

Regret flooded your mind as you chastised yourself for not being more perceptive to his suffering earlier. How could you have let your emotions cloud your judgement? How could you have missed the signs that he was in such pain? You should have known, should have realised that he was going through something. You should have known that there must have been a good reason for his actions, for his attempts to push you away.

Deep down, you knew that he loved you just as much as you loved him, and there had to be a greater purpose behind his actions. All you could do now was have faith in his love and pray for his recovery.

The head maid rushed to your side, her face etched with concern, as she gently steadied you by holding onto your shoulders. You hadn't realised you were swaying until then, your head buried in your hands, "Come, mistress," She said softly, "Let's return to the House of Lotus and wait for good news. The master is in capable hands with Physician Jung. Everything will be alright."

You shook your head, voicing your protest, "But Eunsook, I need to be close to him—"

She smiled gently, squeezing your hands, "I know you do. But you wouldn't want to get in the way, would you? Let the others handle things for now, alright? Master will be just fine; he's much stronger than you think."

With a heavy sigh, you finally nodded in defeat and allowed her to guide you back to your quarters, realising she was right. You wouldn't be of any help to the guys, and it was better to stay out of their way while they worked to treat him at this critical moment.

Please, Yunho. I'm counting on you.

"Jongho, I need you to gather as much echinacea herb as possible from around town. It's the most effective plant for treating venom and relieving pain." The doctor urgently ordered, focusing on removing the layers of clothing from the general.

The assistant bowed, "Yes, Physician Jung!" before swiftly departing with Wooyoung, who had volunteered to assist.

Hongjoong stayed behind to help out, though he struggled to conceal his worry. His hands trembled as he observed the blood staining Seonghwa's clothes and noted the general's pale complexion as he lay almost lifelessly on the bed.

Noticing the dressmaker's distress, Yunho attempted to divert his attention, "So, where's the mistress?"

Clearing his throat to dispel the growing lump, the older man responded with a strained voice, "The last I saw, Eunsook took her back to the House of Lotus."

The doctor nodded, mustering a smile, "Good, it's best she doesn't see him like this. Now, hyung, I need you to focus and keep your emotions in check. Can you do that?"

Blinking rapidly, Hongjoong straightened up, determined to shake off the previous scene. Seonghwa had passed out shortly after spotting him and Wooyoung, halting any attempt to mount his horse. The surge of fear the dressmaker felt then was beyond words. But now, he knew he had to concentrate. Hearing Yunho use "hyung" after so long was grounding, a reminder that emotions had no place in their current situation. He nodded resolutely, "Of course. Just tell me what to do."

Together, they swiftly removed the general's bloodied clothes and tended to his wound, expecting a deep gash but finding only a surface graze. They were puzzled by the discrepancy between the amount of blood and the minor injury. Fortunately, it seemed the venom hadn't spread far; the discolouration was limited to the immediate area around the wound.

The physician concluded that Seonghwa's loss of consciousness was likely due to exhaustion and lack of proper treatment rather than the severity of the injury itself. With the herb they were gathering, he should recover fully in a few weeks.

Right on cue, Jongho and Wooyoung arrived back at the estate, slightly out of breath but carrying an abundance of echinacea as requested by Yunho. Without delay, the group of servants assigned to the doctor immediately sprang into action, following his instructions diligently. They divided the batch of herbs in half: one portion was prepared into a paste for external use, while the other was transformed into a tonic for consumption. With both methods employed, they were confident they could expel all traces of the venom from the general's system in no time.

As the first batch of medication was prepared within a few hours, the team of staff assisted Yunho with applying the paste over Seonghwa's wound and feeding him the tonic. They breathed a collective sigh of relief when they saw his condition stabilise. Hongjoong felt a weight lift off his shoulders as he watched the colour gradually return to his friend's face.

Turning to Jongho, the dressmaker spoke, "Go on and fetch the mistress. She must be worried sick about him."

With an enthusiastic bow, the assistant hurried off to find you after receiving an approving nod from the physician, signalling that it was safe for you to visit your husband. When he arrived at your quarters, he found you pacing anxiously. Your steps halted abruptly when he called out, "Mistress!"

You held your breath until the younger man broke into a wide smile, "He's okay. You can go see him now."

A wave of relief washed over you, melting away the fear that had gripped your heart just moments ago. A small part of you had prepared for the worst, imagining a world without Seonghwa by your side, and the thought left you feeling utterly lost and alone. The prospect of becoming a widow, of navigating life without the man who had brought so much happiness into your world, was almost unbearable.

So when Jongho appeared in a rush, your heart leapt into your throat with fear. But as he delivered the news of the general's recovery, you couldn't contain the flood of emotions that overwhelmed you. Tears of relief streamed down your cheeks as you thanked the assistant.

With a reassuring smile, the younger man gently led you towards your husband, guiding you to the one person who had always been your anchor in the storm.

As you approached Seonghwa's quarters, your heart raced with a mix of anticipation and trepidation. The memory of your last encounter with him lingered in your mind, casting a shadow of uncertainty over your thoughts. What if he didn't want to see you? What if his harsh words were a reflection of his true feelings, and he had truly grown tired of your presence?

However, anger also simmered beneath the surface as you contemplated the possibility. How dare he speak to you in such a manner, dismissing your feelings and calling you troublesome? The hurt of his words slowly gave way to indignation as you recalled the promise he had made to protect you from disrespect. Yet, he had been the one to wound you with his callous remarks.

Entering the room, you temporarily pushed aside the whirlwind of emotions that had consumed you moments before. Your eyes immediately sought out your husband's still unconscious figure lying on the bed, and all other thoughts faded into the background.

Yunho moved aside respectfully to allow you a clear view, bowing in acknowledgement before addressing you, "Ah, Lady Park, you're here. Well then, I'll leave the general to your care for now. I should probably go and write back to General Officer Song to update him on his superior's status."

You nodded gratefully, offering him a warm smile, "Thank you so much for all your hard work, Physician Jung."

He shook his head modestly, returning your smile, "Please don't mention it, my lady. I'm just doing my job. We've given him the first batch of medication so far, and thankfully, his body is responding well to it. I plan to administer this to him daily. I'm confident he should be fully recovered in a few weeks."

Sitting beside Seonghwa on the bed, watching him peacefully asleep, tears welled in your eyes. His chest rose and fell steadily, a reassuring sign that he was still alive, still with you. It felt almost like déjà vu, reminiscent of the moment when he had first discovered your scars, except back then, it was you who lay on the bed.

With a trembling hand, you reached out toward his face, longing to touch him, to reassure yourself that he was truly okay. But before your fingertips could make contact, his combat reflexes kicked in, and he startled you by grabbing your wrist tightly, his eyes snapping open in alarm. As recognition dawned on his face, he relaxed his grip, softening at the sight of you.

"It's you..."

His reaction, though simple, was more than enough to convince you that he still felt the same for you. Instant relief filled your being, realising that all your previous worries about him growing tired of you were for nothing. You should have known better than to doubt his feelings for you.

After a moment, as if recalling your earlier exchange, he released your hand and turned away, attempting to maintain a stoic expression, "What are you still doing here? Aren't you angry with me?"

You scoffed, withdrawing your hand and crossing your arms over your chest, "How long do you plan to keep up this facade? Wasn't it enough that you said those hurtful things to me earlier? Calling me a burden and suggesting I leave you for another man."

At that, Hongjoong and Wooyoung interjected, reminding you both of their presence. The dressmaker shot up from his seat, his expression a mix of shock and anger, "He said what?! Park Seonghwa, you'd better have a damn good explanation, or I swear I'll knock some sense into you again—"

The private investigator quickly intervened, slapping a hand over the older man's mouth and offering a sheepish smile to you and the general, "Oh gosh, I apologise for him. We'll step outside to give you both some privacy to talk things over."

Once you were alone, your husband sighed heavily before sitting up, stubbornly dismissing your attempt to help him, "Listen, I meant what I said. Perhaps considering Prince Yeosang would be beneficial for you. You want happiness, don't you? You'd find it with a husband who doesn't have to leave, risking his life in wars. Someone who isn't stained with blood, someone who isn't a complete monster. It's for the best."

Your fists clenched as you glared at him, "Who are you to dictate what's best for me, General Park? You said it yourself, I'm my own person now, capable of making my own choices. I can do what I want and love who I want. Shouldn't that be left up to me?"

When he remained silent and continued to avoid your gaze, you pressed on, "And yes, I do want happiness. But how can I find it if I'm not with the man I love?"

At that, you sensed his resolve faltering.

Sighing, you reached over to cover his hand with yours, "There, I've said it. I love you, you moron. I don't want anyone else but you. Why is that so hard to understand? I don't care about what you've done to those people who call themselves my family; they deserved it, and I've forgiven you for it. I just... all I wanted was the truth and an apology from you. Instead, all you've given me were hurtful words. But I understand now. You were just scared, weren't you?"

Your heart fell when he still refused to meet your gaze, "Or was I mistaken? Did you truly mean what you said, wanting me gone?" You couldn't help but roll your eyes at his tight jaw, a clear sign of his restraint, "Look me in the eyes and tell me you don't love me then. If you can do that, I'll go as you wish."

Finally, he turned to meet your gaze, his eyes pleading, almost begging you not to push him. You couldn't comprehend his stubbornness; was it just his pride getting in the way? With a defeated nod, you relented, "I understand. You must truly want me to leave and be with His Highness. I suppose there's no point in staying where I'm not wanted. Goodbye, General Park."

Just as you began to pull your hand away and rise from your seat, he surprised you by wrapping his arms around you and pulling you into his embrace. His whisper in your ear sent shivers down your spine, "No, I'm sorry... You're right; I didn't mean any of what I said. I love you too, my wife. Please don't go."

With a tired exhale, you melted into his embrace, finding solace in the warmth of his arms as you buried your face against his shoulder. Each comforting squeeze seemed to ease the heartache you had been carrying, restoring a sense of wholeness within you. This was where you belonged, in his arms.

"You're such an idiot, you know that?" You murmured softly.

He chuckled against your neck, his breath tickling your skin, "I suppose I am." He admitted with a hint of amusement.

"About damn time you realised it, Park Seonghwa. I've been telling you for years. Disrespect your wife like that again, and I'll make you regret it—" Hongjoong's voice cut through the room as he burst in, followed closely by Wooyoung and Jongho, prompting laughter from you as your husband pulled you closer, using you as a shield.

"Please, he just regained consciousness!" The assistant interjected, defending his master despite earning a stern glare from the dressmaker. Deep down, however, everyone knew Hongjoong couldn't have been happier to see his friend alright.

« Preview of Part 19 »

In the warzone, Mingi paced anxiously, his mind consumed with worry for the general's well-being. It had been only two days since he dispatched the messenger to deliver his urgent letter to Yunho. He could only pray that Seonghwa had made it home safely and that his message had managed to reach the physician in time.

Despite his concerns, the strategist forced himself to focus on the immediate tasks at hand. He delved into refining his current strategies and devising new contingency plans for any potential scenarios that might arise before his superior's return.

Before long, a breathless soldier burst into the main tent with urgent news, rambling away in a panic, "Bad news, Officer Song! We were on standby at the border when..."

Mingi placed a reassuring hand on the soldier's shoulder, "Woah, breathe. Calm down and tell me what you saw."

After composing himself, the soldier continued, "Sir, Ruhon soldiers have been sighted approaching once again!"

Oh, crap.

He struggled to understand why this was happening. General Park had defeated most of the enemy forces in the last battle. Where could Ruhon possibly be sourcing this new influx of soldiers from? With the general absent, the strategist knew he would have to take command of the army despite his lack of recent battlefield experience.

But there was no other choice.

I hope you're happy with the outcome HAHA y'all, it's hilarious how accustomed I've grown to writing angst for this story that it felt incredibly weird to write a happy scene. Only two parts left, yippee!

As always, thank you so much for reading, and please let me know your thoughts! <3

Tag list (1/2): @huachengsbestie01 @evidive @weedforthoughtz @ssrnghwa @yunnieo @sunnyhokyu @lynnsqueendom @frobin4ever @chwesuh-imnida @thunderous-wolf @itstheghostofmypast @professormingisglasses @deltamoon666 @avantalem @famishalll @yungilia @soobiverse @joongified @scuzmunkie @http-gyu @mentoslol @atinyreads @angel-hyuckie @anxiousskylar @onedumbho3 @narashii @ddaeing @sanstreasure0305 @sohnfile @scarfac3 @dreamingofyeo @puppyminnnie @tinyteezer @vantediary @satsuri3su @mismatchfluffysocks @aliona124754 @bts-army380 @lilactangerine @atinyniki @pay13 @1117promises @xoxkii @st4rcig4r @hikarii02 @nescaffei @xdolls-crownx @ashrocker123 @skzline @minkiflwr @starssongs98 @baeksofty @skz1-4-3 @kawaiikels @madnpan @maoyueze @en-happiness @cheolliehugs @persnyako @startinystay @chngbnwf @fatspecimen @christinerose380 @stfu-rina @kyukyustar @taytayy178 @appleschre @brielle-in-the-galaxy @laurenwidjaja @yangwonielvrs @n1k1mura @idkwgoh @loveateez @linosllvr @wolfgurl2600-blog

#edenesth #the way to this heart #ateez #ateez fanfic #ateez fanfiction #park seonghwa #ateez seonghwa #arranged marriage au #joseon era #seonghwa x reader #seonghwa x you #ateez fic #historical au

676 notes · View notes

morallygreychaoticneutral · 3 months ago

Text

Astarion was not a "corrupt" magistrate.

Hello again. Just more opinion about my favorite battle buddy. Warning, trigger words in use. Game spoilers.

It's not quite set in stone that Astarion really was a magistrate, but we are going to go with the idea he was for this thought pocket. Also this is just game as it is now info use.

I don't believe he was corrupt magistrate. There were a few things in the game that called that out, but one in particular really set it in stone for me.

His response to the Ansur lair puzzle regarding justice.

Astarion: “Mercy?! Please. Justice should be a harsh lesson. All the better to deter the next vagabond.”

This makes me think he was a bit of a hard ass as a magistrate, but not corrupt. Had he been dealing dirty in the background I really feel like this answer would have been more dismissive or flippant. But he is pretty intent that this is his stance. Very, iv said this a thousand times, type feel.

I think, he was more of a by the book, law is law type. You murder and rape you swing from the gallows. You steal from a shop keeper, you do time. Period.

My theory is, he got beat up because he wasn't lenient with a member of the Gur that was on trial.

"Leniency?! You have been found guilty of negligence resulting in the death of a innocent! You are owed nothing!"

Could you hear it?

"But he talks about being hedonistic and indulgent all the time. "

Yes, but most patriar level citizens were spoiled entitled brats that did what they desired. Have you talked to some of them in the upper city? Yeeesh.

Was he arrogant? Most likely. Prejudice? Obviously (insert gnomes here). But being a haughty jerk does not make one evil.

Sex, nudity, orgies, parties, over indulging etc are not taboo in Faerun. If everybody is consenting to be being naked in a fountain, hopefully in a private villa garden, its not a crime. He talks about that like its a memory, but I like to think his wine drunk giggly ass was actually in that fountain.

If you want to have a little rabbit hole fun, break down the name. Faerun = Fae Run = Run by the Fae. And last I checked, fairies were always down for some naked in the water time. I mean, come on, you can go to pound town with a bear. (No offence, Halsin.) You think they are going to draw the line at how may wieners you can have in the same pot? I think not.

I think the criminal behavior came after he was turned. Cazador may have been targeting him, but not because they were involved. But maybe due to him looking like his old master Vellioth? And he took advantage of a situation. Who knows, lots of ideas there.

"But he's always getting onto Tav for doing the "right" thing."

Yup, Tav is being too trusting and getting too involved with other peoples problems. Why is this an issue for Astarion? Kindness was what got him entombed for a year. He cared about that sweet mans life and was severally punished for it. Its akin to being mauled by a dog and then watching people just reach out a pet every one they see. The anxiety of that attack is still there and it paints every encounter with its opinion. Danger.

"He's not smart enough."

Oh I bet he is. You can be whip smart at a subject and socially akward at the same time. I'm very good at my job. I know it inside and out and can give you any detail, rule, configuration at the drop of a hat in the most professional and proficient way possible. But ask me to be eloquent in a social situation? HA! You are better off asking a rock to fart. Unrelated.

"But he wants to ascend, and that's evil."

That is more about who is is after years of torment and abuse. Not before.

I think the rogue role was adopted to stay alive while hunting. And what a gods awful fate to be turned into the thing you hated the most. A criminal.

I'm sure Caz was real tickled by that. Expletive Adjective.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #headcanon

203 notes · View notes

marvelfilth · 1 year ago

Text

The Witches Trap

Part 2

Pairing: dark!Wanda Maximoff x f!reader

Warnings: ghosts, description of death, paranormal activity, gore, blood, a bit of horror ig, typical ghost hunting stuff, nothing too scary tho

Words: 5.5k

Summary: you go ghost hunting with Peter, Yelena and Kate. What could go wrong?

A/n: first time trying out some spooky stuff, so bear with me. Heavily inspired by Sam and Coby on YT.

Masterlist

The way Yelena drives is far from smooth and sound, but she vehemently refuses to let Peter behind the wheel, so here you are, yelping and griping the sides of the driver's seat headrest like your life depends on it. You hiss when your head meets the roof, and Kate sends you another toothy smile from the front seat, her eyes flickering to look at Yelena every few minutes. You look to your right to check on Peter, but he is busy fumbling with equipment, his camera carefully stored away in a bag as he keeps checking the microphone.

You sigh and relax against the seat when the road finally smoothes out, and think about why you even agreed to this. Peter asked you to tag along for a new video for his YouTube channel, and by asked you mean begged you with his best puppy eyes and a bag of goodies in his hands. Apparently, if you agreed to go, Kate will go too. And if Kate goes, he won't even have to ask Yelena.

He was right.

So now the four of you are on the way to one of the most haunted places of America - Westview hotel.

"Are you sure this is the right way?" Yelena asks, turning her head left and right.

"Yes," Peter answers, glancing up for a second.

"Honestly, this is too creepy already," Kate mumbles, her eyes locked on the numerous dolls pinned to the trees surrounding the road.

"The owner probably made someone do that. No way they had this type of dolls back in the eighteenth century." You try to reassure Kate as much as yourself.

"Actually, the first doll like that was made-" Peter finally looks up with an excited glint in his eyes, and you immediately press your palm against his mouth, "No. I don't need to know that."

"Ha! Little Y/n is scared," Yelena laughs, but her laughter is cut short when a twig hits the side window, making her shriek like a maniac.

"This never happened," she grumbles when the laughter finally dies out.

Relaxing against the seat you try to remember everything Peter told you about this hotel.

It got notoriously famous in the late eighties, when a high schooler got possessed by a demon and later died in a psych ward. The room the girl stayed in was closed off for twenty years after that. You wonder if Peter managed to book it.

Another thing you remember is numerous sightings of a dark, cloaked figure appearing in most random places, whether it's a supply closet or a presidential suite. It always managed to scare the shit out of anyone who was unfortunate enough to catch its interest. You shudder at the mere thought of encountering that particular entity.

"We're here," Yelena cuts off the ignition, and leans against the wheel to take a look at the building.

Your breath catches in your throat the second your eyes land on the magnificent hotel. At seven stories high it stands proudly on a hill, overlooking the vast grounds. The facade is noticeably worn, but no less majestic - a blend of dark wood and stone, a balcony stretching along its entire length. A dark figure on the corner of the rooftop makes you squint, and you gasp when you realize it's a gargoyle, albeit a very rickety one. You make a note to yourself not to walk under it.

Yelena ushers you along, shuddering as she notices the stone figures. “The air here is kinda thick,” she mutters.

You nod, feeling your chest tighten. She's right - the air grows heavier with each step you take. You hope the hotel itself is ventilated enough.

When you finally step inside you take a deep breath, looking around the foyer and spotting who you presume is the owner.

"Welcome to Westview Hotel! My name's Agatha, I'm the owner of this happy little place and your guide for today. Hope you have the worst time of your life here!" Her voice is too cheerful for the late hours, and you cringe at the full on villainous laugh she lets out.

Peter goes to speak with the woman while the rest of you look around. Yelena plops on the loveseat, her backpack thrown on the carpeted floor near her feet, and Kate just stands beside you with her mouth hanging open - you're sure you're wearing a similar expression.

While the outside of the hotel looked somewhat old and weathered, the inside completely blows you away with its beauty. It's elegant, if a bit eerie, with a grand chandelier and high arches that make the space feel even bigger.

You frown, sensing someone's eyes on you, and notice Peter glancing in your direction every so often. You send him a questioning look, but he only shakes his head, his lips pressed together and his cheeks puffed.

"Do you think he's going to sacrifice one of us to that witch? Scarlet Witch, right?" Yelena muses.

"Yeah, but I don't think you're her type." Kate winks at the blonde.

You snicker at her annoyed expression, and stumble back, accidentally bumping into someone. You turn around, an apology on your tongue, only to choke on your words when you are met with an empty lobby.

Your friends stare at you quizzically, but Agatha seems to be lost in thought, her eyes trained on the space right above your shoulder, then she slightly shakes her head, her lips pressed in a tight line.

"Sorry. I thought I bumped into someone…" You trail off, your back burning, an eerie feeling settling in your stomach.

"Sure thing, buttercup." Agatha winks at you, her mood changed back to normal in an instant.

You shudder, looking back at your friends. Yelena whispers something in Kate's ear that causes the younger one to chuckle, and Peter has his camera pointed at you.

"We already got some paranoid activity ten minutes into the night," he blabbers behind the camera, motioning for you to explain what happened.

"Um... It felt like I bumped into someone?" Talking to a camera is weird, but you manage to explain what you felt. "... I think it was nothing though, just my nerves acting up." You force a chuckle, your eyes moving to meet Agatha's stare.

She moves closer to be in the frame, and tells everyone about how much the Scarlet Witch loves to mess with younger women, her favorite pastime in this hotel seems to be entertaining the ladies. However, her idea of entertainment slightly differs from yours, and you gulp when Agatha mentions her choking sleeping guests and locking them in elevators.

"This is going to be incredible, guys," Peter says to the camera, his excitement too contagious for you to worry about your safety.

×××

The next two hours are spent walking behind Agatha and listening to her stories about various tragic deaths that occured in this hotel over the past hundreds of years. She stops every ten minutes or so in front of different rooms, each story worse than the previous one, and you shudder when she tells you a story of a woman buried alive in one of the walls, Agatha's hand casually resting on said wall.

She is telling you another story about a guy that danced on a ledge to impress a girl and fell on one of the spikes in the lobby, when you suddenly feel a tug in your chest. You stop, checking to see if anyone else felt that. Kate is staring at the ledge with her mouth wide open, Peter's busy filming Agatha and butting in with commentary (much to Agatha's displeasure), and Yelena grips Kate's hand so hard, you are sure she couldn't possibly see anything other than the wall in front of her.

You exhale and look around, trying to spot anything interesting, even though you've been looking at the same set of stairs for the past ten minutes. Strangely enough, you notice a door that surely wasn't there before, because you would've noticed it right away if it was.

While every part of this hotel was renovated, this door looks like it belongs in the past, with heavy iron hinges and a weird looking handle. There are no signs on the door, nor any numbers or words, and when something tugs on your hand, you follow the feeling.

You walk almost in haze, your friends' voices blurred in the background, unfamiliar warmth surrounding you, your chest lighter than it ever was and your mind in a euphoric state. You turn the knob and it gives in, the door rattling loudly as you tug it open, but before you could even glimpse inside, a hand slaps harshly on the wood, the door closing with a loud creak.

You blink owlishly, warmth gone and your head suddenly clear, as you take in Agatha's furious expression.

"It says 'Employees only'," she hisses through gritted teeth, and you step away from the woman.

"No, it doesn't, there's noth-" you choke on your words when you look back at the door, because now it looks like every other door in the room, 'Employees only' written in bold.

You look back at Agatha and apologize, but it seems like she doesn't hear you, her brows furrowed and her eyes flickering between you and the door.

"Okay that's hella creepy," Kate breaks the silence, her unoccupied hand digging in a pocket of her jeans to present a cross. "God will protect us." She puts it around her neck, and nods to herself.

"You don't even believe in God." Yelena jams her in the ribs, not letting go of the brunette's hand.

"You really should," Agatha casually advises, tugging at your elbow to move you further away from the door, "follow me, I'm going to tell you the story of the Scarlet Witch."

You cast one last look at the door and follow her down the hall to the very last room, something warm pressing at the low of your back to lead you. Shuddering at the feeling, you wonder why it is only you who feels something weird. Kate keeps sending you worried looks, but, other than that, she seems okay with Yelena's hand pressed firmly into her side. Peter isn't fazed at all, excitingly recording everything in sight.

Exhaling, you try to relax. If something here wants to harm you it wouldn't use such a gentle approach.

Or maybe it's just luring you in.

When you finally stop in front of room number 208 you feel a poke in your ribs, Yelena nods her head for you to look at Agatha, and you confusedly look up. Apparently, she wants you to open the door. Gulping, you move forward, your hand reaching on its own accord. You turn the doorknob with some hesitation, your hand trembling slightly. When you're met with a sight of a regular hotel room, you let out a quiet breath.

The walls are painted an unassuming beige, with green and brown accents, the earth tones bringing a feeling of calm. The four poster bed is pushed against the farthest wall, with nightstands on either side, and you could already imagine how soft it would feel to sleep in it. But the only thing that truly gets your attention is a floor to ceiling window and a french door, which hopefully leads to a balcony you spotted from the outside.

Agatha walks past you into the room, resting her weight against the foot of the bed. "It was locked," her eyes seem to be glued to yours as she speaks, "second locked door you opened today. I find that… interesting."

You are aware of Peter's camera being shoved right in your face, you're aware of Kate's hand reassuringly clasping your own, aware of Yelena's calming presence, but you are focused on something else entirely. There is this feeling again, now familiar warmth taking root in your chest, almost singing to you. You briefly close your eyes, savoring the sensation, wishing you could feel more.

"This is our most active room," Agatha says, "last year some teenagers decided to use a Ouija board in here and it got even worse. So you're in for a wild ride."

"This is nuts," Kate says from the other side of the room, trailing her hand over the painting of a burning witch.

"Oh, this actually happened here," Agatha drawls, taking note of your surprised faces, "almost a hundred young alleged witches were burnt at the stake here, on these grounds…" Agatha continues on with the story, but your eyes are stuck on Kate, on the other side of the room, your body frozen in shock. You can still feel what you thought was Kate's hand on your own, but with her standing on the other side of the room, and Yelena looking at you like you've grown two heads, you decide it's enough.

"Can you tell them to stop?" you shriek, stepping further into the room.

The warm feeling in your chest intensifies, the ghost of a hand sliding up your arm to settle on your cheek, turning your head to look at the painting. It's so gentle, so soft, it makes you lean your head in search of more.

"Them?" Agatha's voice grounds you. "I believe there's only one witch who is interested in you."

"What's going on?" Kate asks, moving away from the painting. Panic starts to rise in your chest, making you struggle to breathe. "Y/n, are you okay?" Kate's by your side in an instant, hands rubbing your sides, and you lay your head on her shoulder, silently reminding yourself that no ghost can hurt you.

"I thought you were standing beside me, I felt you take my hand, but you were on the other side of the room," you whisper against her shoulder.

"No. We're going back home." Yelena pales and tugs at your elbow, smacking the back of Peter's head with her other arm. "Your idiotic idea is going to give her a heart attack," she hisses and leads you to the door, hurriedly turning the knob.

It doesn't turn.

"What the fuck." She tries to open it again, and again, and again, until Agatha gets pissed and yells at her for trying to break the door.

"If she wants you to stay, you'll stay." She places her palm on the wooden door, and gives everyone a stern look.

"Say the word and I'll break that door open." Peter reappears by your side, looking guilty as ever, his camera now hidden away.

You take a deep breath and look around, now feeling much safer with all of your friends (and Agatha) by your side. The room looks like no one has touched it in years, and the warm, calming feeling in your chest only intensified after your little break down.

Maybe the witch just wants some company.

You meet Peter's eyes and manage a smile. "I survived Yelena's driving, I'm sure I'll be fine after this."

"Are you sure?" Yelena and Peter ask you at the same time.

"Yes, guys, I'm fine. I'm just not used to it like you are," you smile at Peter, and he nods in understanding.

He spent his college years filming in haunted places, a little hobby turned into a full time job as his channel grew bigger and bigger. Usually he invites his friend Wade to film together, but this time he really wanted you to come.

"Glad we settled that. Now sit," Agatha commands.

You take a seat on the bed, Yelena and Kate immediately placing their arms around you. Peter settles in a comfortable looking chair by the window, and Agatha stays standing, clearing her throat before venturing into the story of the Scarlet Witch.

"I'm sure you know that being a redhead, green-eyed, and exceptionally smart young woman in the 17th century meant one thing."

"Barbecue," Yelena mumbles, earning a scathing glare from the older woman.

"Yes. But here's the thing - the Scarlet Witch was never burned at the stake, and not because she was so good at staying hidden, but because she has never had a physical presence in this world, at least one that we know of. There's no proof of her existence, no paintings and no pictures, no sightings either."

Yelena shifts beside you. "Then how do you even know-"

Agatha cuts her off with another scathing glare, before continuing on. "We know because every single one of these poor women cried out her name before their inevitable death. They begged her to save them, but she never did."

"That still doesn't-"

"For the love of god, just shut up and let me finish!" The older woman shrieks, throwing her hands in the air. Momentarily closing her eyes, she clenches her jaw. "She never saved any of these poor girls, feeding on their fear, anger and desperation. She enjoyed what was happening. Hell, she spurged it on, manipulating minds, changing people until they became unrecognizable, and after this hotel was built she took charge, driving owners and residents away, leading people to their inevitable death, and lately possessing unsuspecting women. All of those poor people had one thing to say - 'it was the Scarlet Witch'." She shifts on her feet, turning to look out the window. "Hundreds of years of terror, but there was one good thing she's done. There was a particularly nasty witch trial, the poor girl was accused of seducing a priest's daughter. Imagine the horrors she was bound to be faced with if they got their hands on her. They never did, she escaped their clutches, and every single man involved in the hunt on the girl was brutally murdered. The girl died of old age in the safety of her own home, forever protected by the magic of the Scarlet Witch." Suddenly, her eyes lock on yours. "There's no trace of the Scarlet Witch, but there's a painting of the woman she saved. I'd show it to you, but for you it'll be the same as looking in a mirror, so I'll save myself the trouble."

Peter suddenly sits up straighter, nodding along to Agatha's words.

Kate slides her hand away from your shoulders. "Don't want to make her jealous or anything," she whispers, looking around.

"Do you say this to everyone or..?" You hesitantly speak up.

Her eyes turn serious, causing a chill to run down your spine. "Oh no, buttercup, you're a spitting image of the only woman she deemed worthy enough to save."

"She's not lying," Peter says, "that's actually the reason why I asked you to come." He sends you a sheepish smile, and shows you a picture on his phone. It's an old painting, weathered by time, but undoubtedly beautiful.

The woman looks just like you.

You gulp, your heart hammering in your chest. "Well, I'm not her."

"Maybe not. It's not like it matters." Agatha mumbles, standing up, a faraway look in her eyes. "She must've had her reasons to save the poor girl, and I suspect they were far from noble. Be careful." She looks at you one last time before turning to Peter. "Well, it's been fun entertaining you, but it's nearing midnight, so I'll leave you to your ghost hunting, or whatever it is that you're doing." Her lips purse at the numerous cameras Peter's unloaded from his bag.

"Wait!" You jump up, stalling Agatha. "How do you even know about what happened at the trials? Is there some kind of document?" You're aware of the absurdity of your questions, after all you are the one who experienced all of the activity so far, and while some of it could be blamed on your nerves or your brain playing tricks on you, the door accident still burns at the back of your mind.

"You don't believe me?" Agatha smirks, making you shift uncomfortably. "Don't worry, you'll see, you have a long night ahead." She sends you one last look, and easily opens the door before disappearing behind it.

You fall back on the duvet, pressing your palms against your face. The past hour puts an uncomfortable weight on your chest, and you struggle to wrap your mind around the fact that you're probably going to be targeted even more as the night goes on, either by your terrified, overly anxious mind, or the Scarlet Witch.

The warm feeling you felt when you first stepped into the room slowly disappeared, leaving you to wonder if it's done its job in luring you in.

"Okay, it's time to-"

"We're not using a Ouija board."

"- light up some candles." Peter says, looking quizzically at Yelena. "I'm not stupid, you know." He huffs, rolling his eyes.

You snort, shaking your head at your friends' antics. "Why do we need candles?"

Peter rolls his eyes. "To communicate with ghosts."

"Don't you have some fancy tech for that?"

"I prefer to keep it simple," he shrugs.

You share a look with Yelena. "And we'll be left talking to the AC," you mumble loud enough for Peter to hear and send you a middle finger.

"There's no AC in this room. Some people use flashlights, but I prefer candles. We'll also use a spirit box."

"We're not catching any spirits in a box, right?" You sit up, eyes darting between your friends.

Peter sighs and goes on a rant about his tools, explaining how everything works. To your great relief, you won't have to catch anyone, just put on a blindfold, some noise canceling headphones, and let some spirit talk though one of you.

"Sounds fun," Kate gulps.

"I'm not doing that." You shake your head, crossing your arms.

Peter looks up from the floor, where he adjusts the rem pod, the piece of equipment going off when he touches it with a tip of his finger, calibrating the sensitivity. "Yelena will do that."

It's almost comical how far Yelena's jaw falls. "And why is that, Parker? Why don't you let some spirit use you as a radio?"

"Um… my tarot reader told me you'll do best out of all of us."

Kate starts cackling like a maniac, clutching her stomach and bending over. You can't help laughing either, burrowing your face into the pillow to keep quiet.

Yelena continues arguing with Peter, and you decide to leave them to it and satisfy your curiosity. You smile at the questioning smile Kate sends you, and gesture to the balcony door.

You were right, it is the balcony you saw from the outside, stretching all the way to the other side of the hotel. You sigh and lean against the railing, taking in the view. If you thought it looked terrifying on the way here, it looks even worse from high up. Moonlight shines on crooked trees surrounding the land around the hotel, dark and menacing, broken branches hanging on the last threads. There is a well within walking distance, not too far away from where you parked the car. You swear to yourself you won't let Peter drag you over there, it looks way too creepy.

You finally relax, letting your eyes fall shut for a second, but a blurry movement to your left forced them open. You grip the railing, squinting.

Nothing.

"What the fuck." Kate's voice sounds from the inside, and you rush back just in time to see her exit the adjoined bathroom, snapping the door shut with a terrified look on her face. "No. Oh fuck no. Oh no, no, no."

Peter sits up, alarmed. "What is it?"

"There's blood on the mirror," she whispers, her hands shaking violently, "and in the tub, and on the floor."

Peter immediately gets up, taking the only camera that's been filming the whole time with him. You follow your friend, not paying attention to your shaking hands and your hammering heart.

When the door opens you see a pristine bathroom, so clean it's almost mocking. He inspects every corner from every possible angle, only to come up short.

"Guys?" Kate calls out from behind the door. "Are you good?"

"There's nothing he-" you freeze mid sentence when your eyes land on the mirror.

It's fogged up, one word clearly written.

Your name.

You reach out - not of your own violation, your hand guided by some unseen force - and touch the reflective glass right where your name is. You're hit with a vision, bits and pieces of what feels like distant memory escaping the prison your mind put them in.

You see a wrinkled face of an old man, his expression pure disgust as he spews something right in your face. The scene changes abruptly, and now you're in a dark cell, with only the moon to keep you company. Your heart clenches at the pure anguish you're hit with, the desperation drowning you, leaving you no room to breathe. There's a sudden blur, and everything turns blinding white, and then… you feel that warmth again. A woman stands in front of you, reaching out, her eyes glinting red. She looks ethereal, her skin pale, almost sheer, her unruly hair pushed back by a red tiara. You gulp, feeling the power radiating from her, chest aching with the need to submit to it.

You stumble away from the mirror. There's no warmth in your chest now, only pure, unconcealed dread. You lean against the door, palms pressed to your face. Peter doesn't dare breathe, his hands only shaking slightly as he makes sure to get it in the frame.

"Where did you just go?" He whispers, not daring to speak any louder.

You shake your head, blinking back tears. "Tell me you did this. Tell me it's a prank."

He looks at you, eyes full of fear. He bites on his lower lip, eyes wide. "I did this. I totally did this." He nods rapidly, ushering you out of the room.

Kate and Yelena wait on the other side, each holding a candelabra. You don't even bother to ask where they found them, heading straight to the balcony for a breath of fresh air while Peter explains what happened.

You look at the full moon, rubbing your chest in tight circles.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Again, and again.

The floorboards of the balcony creak, along with the railing, and you wonder if it's all gonna fall to the ground, and bury you in a mess of wood and cement. Maybe that's what the witch wants - for you to stay here forever.

You feel the remains of that need, that hunger for the witch. You long to see her again, even if it's just a glimpse, a whiff of her presence.

When you come back, the lights are off, and Peter is already asking questions, Yelena's terrified expression telling you everything you need to know about the answers they've been provided with.

The candle on the nightstand goes out, and Peter blinks, looking at you. "Weird."

"What?" You ask, looking around, hair on the nape of your neck standing up.

"He asked the ghosts if they wanted us to leave." Kate answers.

"That means they do." Yelena points at the candle.

You shiver, a breeze from the balcony making you curl in on yourself, eyes flickering to every dark corner of the room, flinching whenever you see shadows from the moonlight that look a little too ominous.

Someone is watching you, you're sure. A part of you hopes it's her.

"And why is that weird?" You ask Peter, watching as he collects the candles. You sigh in relief, glad to have missed the conversation.

"I thought they liked us - you - at least," he mumbles.

"Maybe they want us gone so the witch can have some alone time with Y/n." Yelena's brows jump up and down suggestively, and you can't help, but laugh, some of the tension finally seeping away.

That is, until the last candle on the nightstand lights up again, completely on its own.

Peter staggers back, dropping the stack in his hands. "No fucking way," he whispers, "that never happened before."

He pulls back to check the camera, making sure it's still recording.

"That's a yes, right?" Kate gulps, looking at you with wide eyes. "She wants you wants you. It's not a coincidence."

You take a seat on the rocking chair in the corner and close your eyes, reminding yourself that nothing here could ever hurt you. It doesn't really work when you still feel eyes on you. Your hands tremble, and your legs feel too heavy to stand on. Every sound is amplified, your senses going into overdrive, so when a clock stops ticking, you immediately notice.

The clock reads 12:08, the hands still for a moment, before resuming their course.

You're slowly starting to wish you never agreed to come to this place.

Agatha's words ring in your head. What if the witch thinks you're that poor girl? That'll explain the witches' interest in you. Maybe she made you see those visions to help you remember.

But… What if it's not even her that's been following you? What if it's one of the dark entities Agatha told you about? The thought makes you even more uncomfortable - you'd prefer the Scarlet Witch to haunt you instead of some dark, trapped soul, no matter how absurd it sounds.

"Hey," Kate approaches you.

You blink, and offer her a hesitant smile. "Yeah?"

"Are you okay?" She bites on her lip, her hands on your knees.

You nod, and take her hands in yours. "I'm fine. Just a bit shaken up."

She sighs heavily, head falling to rest on your lap. "Same," she mumbles, "I feel like a prey."

You rub her shoulders, hoping to ease some of her tension. "We'll be out of here in the morning."

She looks up, smiling. "Actually, we're not sleeping here. Peter said we'll try to talk to them one last time and then go."

You hum, wondering why the information makes you feel worse. Shouldn't you be relieved to leave earlier?

"Okay, come here," Peter calls, putting noise canceling headphones on Yelena's head.

Kate jumps up, her eyes lightening up at the sight of Yelena sitting rigidly on the chair, a blindfold and headphones in place. "Oh, this is gonna be good," she smiles, settling in front of the blonde.

Peter looks at you. "I think you should ask the questions."

You nod, biting on the inside of your cheek. You think of something appropriate to ask - something that would reveal information without offending any of the spirits here.

"Are we here alone?" You ask, and everyone turns to look at Yelena, awaiting an answer.

Yelena's head bobs up and down, like she's listening to her favorite song, but you know for sure it's just white noise.

"Hello," Yelena says, smiling slightly.

Not alone, then.

You nod, and Peter gestures for you to continue.

"My name is Y/n, what is your name?"

It's quiet for a little while, occasional squeaks from the balcony making you jump up and look around.

When Yelena doesn't answer, Peter decides to speak up. "Did you follow us here from the lobby? Was it you-"

"Shut up," Yelena barks.

Kate stumbles back on the floor, and settles against the foot of the bed. "Oh fuck."

Peter takes a step back, raising his hands in surrender. "Okay, okay. Sorry." He nods at you, urging you to continue.

"Do you not like him?" You ask.

"In… in the way…" her voice is unsure as she trails off.

"Peter's in the way? In the way of what?" Kate speaks up, looking at you.

"Deal," the blonde whispers, "owe."

Peter frowns. "You made a deal and you owe someone?"

Yelena purses her lips, tilting her head to the side like she can't quite figure out what is being said.

The bathroom door slowly creaks open.

"Are you in the bathroom?" Kate's voice shakes, and you take her hand, shuffling closer to the girl.

"Blood."

You exhale, looking at the open doorway with wide eyes.

Kate nods rapidly, her hand trembling. "There was a lot of blood. You scared the shit out of me."

Yelena chuckles, "Feed."

So whatever is here has been feeding on your fear.

"Who are you?" You ask again.

"You know," Yelena replies. "You all do."

"What's behind that door?" You have the strongest urge to go back there.

Yelena chuckles, shaking her head. “Go see for yourself.”

Light starts flickering, tears spring to your eyes, and you fight the urge to curl into a ball and cry. Yelena turns her head and sits up, leanings towards you.

"You forgot."

"Forgot about what?" You shudder, eyes darting between the door and Yelena.

"Our deal."

Peter darts to the other side of the room and snaps the door to the bathroom shut, his mouth set in a flat line. "We're leaving."

"She can't," Yelena singsongs.

"There's no deal. You're mistaken," Peter snaps, collecting the equipment.

"What deal?" You hesitantly ask.

Lightning strikes outside, a loud boom of thunder following. The painting of the burning witch falls.

"I own y-"

Peter tugs off the headphones, Yelena's mouth snaps shut. She tugs off the blindfold and blinks, brows set in confusion. "Are we gonna start any time soon?"

Kate groans, falling face first to the floor. "Fuck my life."

_______________________

Before you yell at me - yes, there will be a part two

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda maximoff x female reader #scarlet witch x reader #scarlet witch x you #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x y/n #scarlet witch x y/n #scarlet witch x female reader

707 notes · View notes