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artinvain · 2 months ago

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in the midsts of hellfire (pt 1) (wc: 3.2k)

pit fighter!vi x reader & sevika x reader

cw: angst and toxic relationship (with vi). smut

the days had blended into a blur for Vi. she knew pain and it was the only thing that kept her sane. every time she sees a flash of blue hair in the crowd she allows her opponent a chance to get her mouth bloody. when she heard the soft lilt of cait’s voice the punch to her gut doesn’t feel like much but it knocks her on her ass and she loses the fight. except vi doesn’t hear the bell toll signaling the end of her match.

her ears are ringing with the sound of the bomb powder had set off - to kill her. powder, her pow hated her - what had she done? vi doesn’t realise she’s screaming maniacally, tears staining her cheeks as she picks a fight with her opponent. and because it’s the pits - she can and since her opponent is willing - the game continues.

it’s gorey, her back tooth is knocked loose. she pops some blood vessels in her opponent's eye. her hair is matted with blood to her forehead and when she stumbles into your apartment she finally collapses into your waiting arms.

in her new reality vi had allowed herself only two pleasures - sex and the comfort of a home. she hadn’t bargained for her feelings to grow so exponentially, though she never told you about her past, how it haunted her. and looking up at you as you worry over her, she realised that there could be a time where she tells you that she loves you and truly means it.

you are the prettiest girl in the undercity without a doubt, a flower anyone would love to pick and for some reason you had settled for vi. she still questions you - whether or not you were really on her side. sometimes she waits in the evenings with baited breath for enforcers to barge your door down and take her away. almost every night she imagines it's caitlyn that is at your door.

though looking over at you now, your eyes flitting around under your eyelids, your skin dewy with the heat of vi’s body so close to yours, god she regrets ever dragging you into her shit, you didn’t deserve to be second place to anyone. vi could appreciate how great you were, but she promised herself she would never let her love break anyone else. and yet, here she is, about to do it again.

“baby,” she whispers, her calloused hands brushing your cheek and easing you awake with kisses to your neck and jaw. “I need you, please wake up” she breaths into your ear, her lips tasting yours before you can interject and still you do -

“are you sure?” your voice laced with sleep and still under that - lust. she wondered how it is that you managed to care so deeply for her when she was so withholding.

“I’m patient,” you had told her when vi said she wasn’t ready for a relationship. you waited for months for her, let her cry in your arms. you let her tell you about her exploits - she was trying to make you jealous and when she had enough - vi came home to you and let you have her.

“I’m sure,” she breathes, clambering between your legs as you open them for her. “I love you,” she chokes out between kisses to your throat and it’s all you need to let go. vi rarely said it and to you, that meant when she did say it - she really meant it - really needed you. so you let her have you.

In the morning you wake up to a note pinned down by a small bag of coins.

“gone back to pits, buy something nice,”

you rolled your eyes - even on a saturday, vi remains relentless.

you take yourself to the last drop after your shift and you’re glad it’s still empty considering it was a saturday afternoon. it always was when you and sevika planned to meet. you didn’t know sevika had bought out half the bar so that it was emptier for you. she knew you hated crowds and she didn’t want half of zaun oogling at you - as if you didn’t get that enough on a daily basis. no one would know she did it because she was jealous, she didn’t want a full bar dividing your attention between her and the rest of the world. nor did she want her men to see how her eyes softened around you.

The two of you were unlikely friends, that is because sevika isn’t really friends with anyone but you. sevika adored you, the only girl who actually made her laugh, you were the only girl who looked at her like you wanted to hear what she had to say - not because you were afraid or being paid. sevika’s soft spot for you deepend every time she saw you.

when you plop down beside her in the booth, she lets you see a small smile. her stretched lips showing off the tiny gap between her teeth you often told her made her so pretty. no one ever called sevika pretty and it made her blush every single time.

“you smell nice,” she whispers, handing you a joint and lighting it for you as you bring it to your lips. “I smell like kitchen grease, which is incredible because i don’t even work in the kitchen,” you laugh and sevika exhales gently through her nose. “still smell like flowers,” she mutters and before you can reply - “how’s vi,” sevika spits her name like it’s hot ash in her mouth.

you were well aware of sevika’s dislike of your girlfriend though she never explained it to you and vi never liked to talk about sevika. Of course she had wanted you to stay away from “the scariest lady in zaun” but if she didn’t listen to your warnings about getting her face beaten in every day. you decided you didn’t need her approval on who to trust.

sevika masked her dislike for vi with the fact that you always seemed so sad because of her. not because she was head over heels in love with you. of course, vi had no idea you were so close with sevika and sevika used that to her advantage. she could be a sounding board for all your relationship issues and all it did was give sevika material on how to be a better girlfriend to you. because there was no way sevika was letting this shit go on any longer.

“she’s fine - she’s just -”

“absent? was she mean when she got back from the pits again this time?” sevika grunts and passes you the joint as you scoff at her. Even though she didn’t treat you right your eyes told her how much you cared about her. she wondered if you would look at her differently after she’s done with vi.

“no vika, that doesn’t happen that often-”

“but it happens” sevika interrupts you and doesn’t back down when you give her a look. “I hate what she does to you,” she continues.

“I don’t know why she treats you the way she does, but you don’t deserve it bunny,” sevika smiles when you stop scowling. you loved it when she called you that, curled her arm around your shoulder like she is. It made you feel safe and allowed you to be fragile as you were. and every time you sink into her chest, it takes all your strength not to let those feelings bubble over. the one’s you’d been denying since the moment you met sevika. you swallow down your guilt at the way your heart flutters when sevika gently caresses your cheek.

sevika knew it would break your heart, to hear the enforcers banging on your door - see the way that vi looks at caitlyn when they finally find each other again. at first sevika wanted to turn vi over to regular enforcers and see her shut in a cell again - serves her right for getting out and trying to turn zaun upside down.

it pissed sevika off - vi on her high horse as if she had never done a bad thing to survive. she waltzed in and halted sevika’s plans to turn zaun around with her anger and childish violence. If the girl had taken even a moment to talk to sevika then she would have known that the brutish woman had a plan to save her home after all.

“I know you don’t like her, but thank you for always hearing me out,” you say, taking sevika’s hand and now she’s no longer thinking about vi. only how supple your hand in hers is, the look of your soft lips as they shape her name.

“I’d do anything for you bunny,” sevika noses your forehead and gingerly presses a kiss there. your breath hitches, your face rising to look up at sevika as she looks down at you. sevika can heart her heart pumping in her ears, her face heating with need and your proximity.

“I love you,” sevika says softly, she’d never said it before, to any other woman and she doesn’t know how or why she lets it slip. but when your lips stretch into a grin, she takes a deep breath.

“I love you too sevika,” you bury your face in her neck and pull her arms over you in a hug. a poo attempt at masking the sincerity sevika already saw in your eyes and heard in your voice. you both knew what it meant, and that something should change or you should jump apart like teenagers being caught kissing but you don’t.

It feels more natural than it ever has, the way sevika’s hand comes to rub up and down your back, the sky kiss you lay to her cheek. her hand playing with yours in her lap.

“I should get going,” you pull back with an air of sadness and sevika packs the left over joint in a bankie for you.

“I’ll see you friday,” she replies and sits back in the booth to watch you go.

you’re shocked to find vi sitting on your couch when you get home. she doesn’t look up when you greet her. Instead she trains her eyes on the opposite wall, her pocket knife clicking in her hand as she skillfully plays with it. you sit on the couch beside her and gently lay a hand on her thigh, she tenses.

“you were with sevika,” she says finally, and you take a deep, nervous breath. had anyone seen you two together? had they seen how close you were?

“someone told me you were at the last drop today,” you exhale relieved that that’s all she has to say. you nod your head and try to say what you had practiced for this scenario, but vi doesn’t let you get a word in before she’s throwing your vase across the room with a yell.

“do you have any idea how stupid that makes me look? she is for everything im fighting against,” she yells and you furrow your brows,

“you don’t know her like i do, she’s trying to fix things.” your voice is shaky but the statement is bold. you know sevika, and she hadn’t told you everything but you know enough to confidently say sevika wasn’t ever just silco’s lackey. she was powerful and smart and making changes in zaun – starting with a centre for shimmer recovery.

“excuse me?” vi asks, anger making her breath shudder.

“I’m just saying you have no idea what’s going on in zaun anymore, your head is still in the ring vi, it always is,” you say.

and you’re right because vi can hear the toll of the bell in her head, the fight had started and she was feeling jealous and cruel.

“you don’t know how stupid you’re going to look when she drops you for someone who will actually open their legs for her. or maybe you’re easier than i thought,” she spits without looking at you but she can hear your jaw drop with a gasp.

she’s half expecting you to fight back. tell her she was being an asshole - that she was still in the pits. the usual and instead she’s filled with dread at you silence.

“I think you need a few days alone,” you say as you stand and go to put your shoes back on. vi jumps up to follow you to the door,

“are you really just going to leave me? like everyone else?”

you pause and turn to look at her.

“I don’t think you want me here,” you say, gently clasping your hands over vi’s and she drops to her knees, tears beginning to pool in her eyes. her arms wrap around your legs and she starts to cry into her belly.

“please don’t leave me,” she whimpers, resting her cheek against you. Your hands come to mindlessly play with her hair.

what she really wanted to say was “please don’t leave me cait,”

but you weren’t cait. you stayed. you were a placeholder that vi has grown dangerously attached to and she wondered now about finally sending that message to cait - whether or not she should do it. because maybe this is better, maybe this is what she deserves and her only reprieve is you - her angel.

“I’m sorry, i’m so sory i fucked up,” vi screws her eyes shut and holds you tightly her voice more honest than it ever has been.”i promise you things will be different, please just - please don’t go,” you try to pull vi’s arms off of you but she tightens her grip and you’re not in any position to challenge her strength.

“vi, you’re hurting me,” you grunt, but her arms stay locked. pain is the only way vi had ever known love. so surely, surely vi believed there was a part of her that could love you, get over cait and focus on you, on her new life.

a resounding knock echos in your apartment and the door handle rattles with effort to open in it.

“vi?”

at first she thinks she’s imagining it. but then cait is screaming her name, banging on your door and vi gets up past you, shoving you behind her and opening the door.

you know with the look in her eyes that vi never intended to stay, or to love you like she promised. she was filled with real calm, relief that you had never seen before. Neither of the girls take notice of you when they embrace, even less so when they kiss and by the time vi realises what she’s done, you’re moving past her into the street.

“no, no wait,” she runs after you and cait locks your door to follow her. vi pulls you back by your arm before you can duck into the crowds moving in the streets.

“It’s not what you think,” she sighs and she gives a look to caitlyn when she scoffs.

“This is - she’s from my past and -”

“and you’re in love with her, that’s where your mind has been this whole time - not in the pits - with her.” you frown with the restraint of keeping your tears back.

“I don’t ever want to see you again,” you swallow and wretch your hand from hers. caitlyn’s hand is on vi’s shoulder as she tries to pull her away from you.

“we have to go vi, now,” caitlyn looks around the streets wearily.

you nod your head, “go,” you say,

“I’m coming back for you,” vi says, as she starts to back away with caitlyn. her words thinning with the distance between the two of you. “I promise,”

and then she’s gone.

***

when you get to sevika's home you stumble into her arms, tears never-ending as you blubber and she hates to see you in pain. but it worked. cait had taken the bait and vi was gone for good.

she held you in her arms until you could breathe, and instead of falling asleep like she assumes you will, you're turning your face upto her from her chest.

"vika," you breathe and sevika's heart flutters at the need in your voice - "make me forget,"

sevika handles you into her lap and presses a

kiss to your mouth with vigour. She moans at the taste of you when she finally licks into your mouth. Your hips grind down on hers and sevika whines, so embarrassingly close to cumming and she has to reach under your top to grope your tits. she tastes your groans as she rolls your nipples between her fingers and loves the weight of your tits in her hands.

“never letting you go,” she groans into your neck as she turns you over in one swift movement, her muscles taking all of your weight and she appreciates you beneath her. Your soft hips and thick thighs pressed around her hips. She can’t help when she claws your clothes away from your body.

“m’sorry bunny, just need to see you - you’re so beautiful,” she moans, kissing down your body, “finally get to taste you,” her words of praise for your taste muffles as she buries her head in between your thighs and sucks your clit into her mouth.

you moan, all thought of vi clearing your mind as sevika sinks two fingers into you, curling them - “god you’re so fucking wet, and so needy for me,” she groans feeling you tighten on her fingers. “fuck fuck, m’gonna cum,” sevika whimpers and the sound alone from her - so vulnerable and soft beneath you, you’re cumming and so is she, feeling and tasting your pleasure.

she’s quick with the way she tears her own clothes off and secures her strap to herself. “I love you, and i will never let you go,” she whispers as she sinks into you. Her eyes trained on yours - lids lowered as you look up at her.

“I love you,” you gasp as she snaps her hips against your gspot, sevika smiles and pulls you in close so that your foreheads are pressed together. sev can feel your pussy pulling her in, the base of her strap rubbing and bumping up against her clit so deliciously.

“you’re mine,” sevika moans and you whimper in agreement, “yours, please cum with me” your words slurred as sevika speeds up her hips and holds your thigh up. “you’re so beautiful,” she gasps, looking down at you and when your back arches, you both cum with a groan, moaning and whining - bodies sweaty and intertwined.

“I could die happy now,” sevika groans after taking the water she’d given you and taking a sip herself,

“shut up…” you laugh and start to play with her hair, her head resting on your belly, she presses occasional kisses there. “how long have you-”

“since the day i met you,” she replies.

***

In caitlyn’s hideout, vi can’t keep her head straight. her eyes trained on your little red tracking do at sevika’s home.

“come to bed,” cait whispers, her hand gently squeezing vi’s shoulder. she swallows down her jealousy and tries to pull vi to bed.

“In a minute,” she says quietly, waiting to see if you would move though you hadn’t in the last four hours.

“I thought you’d be excited to be home,” cait snaps against her better judgement and vi has to restrain herself, cait isn’t sued to the monster she is now and she didn’t think now would be the right time to introduce her.

“you’re right,” she huffs and puts her phone down, vi steps away from the window and follows caitlyn to bed.

vi thought it would be different. Whenever she imagined this moment, she was always happy and probably fucking and safe but all she felt now was empty, and a longing pull for something familiar. you had seen all the darkest parts of vi and still loved her, and she didn’t know now, why or how she ever imagined she could let you go.

sevika tags: @archangeldyke-all @sexysapphicshopowner @sevsbaby @iamaboringrattat @lavendersgirl @opropheticsoul @ariariarr @femme-historian

#lesbian #18+ mdni #men dni #sevika arcane #nsft lesbian #mdni #vi acrace #caitvi #sevika arcane x reader #vi arcane x reader

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yulin-pop · 18 days ago

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⤷ ✧ 𝐀𝐜𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮𝐫 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝

order 87 | Alphabet headcanons | Ace | Gender Neutral

❀ NOTE: mmm okay so who’s next

A - Affection (What is their love language?)

Quality time is the one that really matters, you could be very beautiful but it wouldn’t matter as much as your personality to him in the end. But since you’re both, he’s a lucky guy. Just long conversation about nothing useful and scrolling on MagiCam together on the couch just feels natural.

B - Best (What is their best trait?)

Just how he’s always with you, not necessarily in a loyal way but he has to be at your side as long as it’s physically capable of him. He walks you to class without asking and always finds you in the hallways.

C - Confession (How did they confess?)

He did it the traditional way everyone told him to. Flowers and some sort of gift of whether you liked the most. He hid it from you the whole day until the perfect time he planned. It had to be when it was just the two of you, if anyone even walked by he waited until they went away then went for it.

D - Distance (How are they after fights?)

Even after you resolved everything, he may be a little bit pouty, either mad about what you did or feeling bad way about what he did. You have do ease him back in to make him act normal again.

E - Early (How was the first week of your relationship?)

He acted the same way he always did, at least he tried. He was both more nervous and confident around you. He was less chatty and more focused on what you were saying, but eventually grabbed your hand without saying anything when walking you to class. If you say anything about it, he’ll get embarrassed and let go.

F - First Kiss (When was your first kiss together?)

It had to be when you were alone, which is hard. But it’d most likely be just a hangout, suddenly you two start fighting and tickling each other. When you settle down, still sitting close to him. He just gets the urge, so he does it. If you freak out, he’ll say “so you just don’t like me?!”

G - Gifts (What gifts do they get for you?)

You honestly have to ask him or talk about something non stop for him to actually buy it for you. Not that he doesn’t care but he doesn’t get you spontaneous gifts unless it’s food because he’ll know you’ll like it.

H - Hugs (Anything involving hugs?)

He use to hug you more before dating but he hardly does it. But if you’re scrolling on MagiCam with him or maybe watching a movie, he might go behind you and bring you into a big hug, just to get comfortable.

I - Injury (How do they react when you get hurt?)

He might make a big deal when he hears you’re hurt with no context, depending on how bad it actually is he might just stare at it and scold you or rush you to the nurses office. Of course, when he does bring you he waits with you the entire time.

J - Jealousy (How do they get jealous?)

When anyone takes his spot. Even if it’s something meaningless like someone taking a seat next to you when EVERYONE knows he always sits next to you on that side. If someone else pours you tea at an unbirthday party, he dumps it on the floor and pours you another. But it gets worse if he notices they’re physically affectionate, he would actually pop a blood vessel.

K - Kiss (How are kisses with them?)

They’re very quick and more of just a reminder of his love. The longer kisses are reserved for when he missed you or when he’s jealous.

L - Love you (Who says it more?)

You mostly do; since he’s nervous with saying it too soon or too often since he doesn’t want to do too much (him attempting to be nonchalant). He only ever says it as a quick thing like when you make him food for example.

“I made cookies and I made sure to set aside ten just for you.”

“…I love you so much…”

“Huh?”

M - Memorable (What stands out most about them?)

He’s rude yet thoughtful. He reminds you to do your homework and if you have a big test the next day. He may tease you but most of the time it has a purpose, the other percent of the time he’s just being mean.

N - Nightmares (What do they do when you get nightmares)

When you wake up, he’s sorta concerned since you seem panicked despite just waking up. Whether you tell him or not, he can tell and he urges you to go back to sleep. He hopes holding you until you fall asleep will keep the bad dreams away.

O - Open (How open are they with you?)

If he doesn’t like something, he’ll eventually tell you. Even if it can’t be said out loud, he texts you while standing right beside you. But other than that he’s direct and he won’t hide what he likes and doesn’t like for long.

P - PDA (How much affection do they show in public?)

Not a lot, again with him trying to be nonchalant. He tries not to do PDA in front of his friends because he knows one of them will say “get a room!” or groan in disgust. Holding hands is another thing he’s more comfortable with and he hugs you before leaving for class. But if he’s feeling really brave, he’ll give you a kiss on the forehead but he’s running away immediately so you don’t catch how red his face is.

Q - Quote (what's a sweet thing they’ve said to you?)

“Can I come over later? You know, Riddle is so exhausting I need to get away from it… You know it’ll be cold tonight. I wouldn’t want you to be cold, s-so you should let me stay the night.”

R - Romantic (How romantic are they?)

Not really romantic on purpose, sure he intends to create the atmosphere but sometimes he just does what he wants so you can say he’s just naturally a romantic person. Definitely not with his words but more with his actions.

S - Sadness (What do they do to make you feel better?)

He tries to get your mind off of it, generally if you’re just down he won’t leave you alone until you go back to normal. If you won’t even tell him about it, he pesters you and if it doesn’t work. He tickles you, he loves seeing you smile you’re just cuter that way.

T - Together (How clingy are they?)

He’s clingy but not physically touch way. He can be but he’s doesn’t need to always have his hands on you. But proximity wise he will always be closest to you. He won’t ever let you walk to class alone and he has to be the first person you talk to at lunch.

U - Uplift (How much do they compliment you?)

He’s mean but he gives you credit for being smart. And not necessarily a compliment but he flexes your achievements to other people. When someone is talking about test scores he brings yours up first. If you aren’t very confident in yourself then he reassures you a lot.

V - Voice (How often do they express their love for you?)

He doesn’t like to talk about it because he gets embarrassed really fast. He doesn’t know what to say when someone asks how you two started dating. “Well I asked and they said yes.”

“How did you confess?”

“You don’t need to know all of this!!”

He doesn’t say it unless it really needs to be said like when you’re jealous. Over text he isn’t so shy, though.

Ace: Hey

Ace: respond if you love me

Ace: …

Ace: Please I miss you

W - Worry (How often do you concern him?)

He gets curious if you’re off schedule like you’re running late and he doesn’t see you in the morning. He doesn’t worry much but as seen in chapter 4, if there’s a reason he will worry his butt off until he sees you and can see for himself you’re okay.

X - XOXO (How affectionate are they in private?)

In private he doesn’t mind cuddling you or you cuddling him. He does just whatever you want to do, but he doesn’t like when you basically ignore him for whatever you’re doing. He pulls you away from it, literally.

Y - You (How often do they think about you?)

Every morning he wonders if you’re already awake and then he goes to school and wonders when you’re getting there. Then he walks you to class then wonders what you’re doing. Then after school he wonders what you’re doing again, cleaning or maybe doing homework? Then at night he wonders if you’re already asleep. Then repeat. He texts you a lot because of how curious he is.

Z - Zealous (How passionate are they about you?)

He shouldn’t have to say it but he’s very passionate. Before basketball games he thinks of you and how you’re gonna watch him. He tries way harder if you’re going to be there, but it results in bad decisions like shooting the ball when he should’ve definitely passed. His teammates don’t appreciate it at all. He’s not suppose to but he looks at you in the stands during the game. He just wants to impress you is all.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #twst #ace trappola x reader #ace trappola #heartslabyul

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17020 · 5 months ago

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RULE OF THIRDS

high school is home for a lot of things, including jealousy and drama. My ex's misery is your enjoyment this time! this is love triangles, with the wind breaker men. warnings for manga spoilers (last blurb), drinking, ooc ume (sawrryyyy) !! tagging @kaiser1ns !!

A NIGHT OF REVELATIONS.

REN KAJI, featuring TOMA HIRAGI

ren kaji set aside his ego and pride to attend some afterparty because he knew you would be there. that meant a lot.

and at first, everything was… fine? he stepped out of his comfort zone, headphones down as he listened to the beats of the music which played over the speakers. his eyes met yours, with you linking your pinky with his.

"what? you wanna dance with me?" he questioned, his tone almost accusatory. it was what he wanted more than anything, yet he made it sound as if it was your desire. the mere thought of your skin grazing his made his heart want to burst out of his chest.

"you want me to dance to feid? no fucking way rennie, i don't dance to that. plus, you should take care of toma, he's on another planet."

sure, the song was ass, yet he still felt his heart shatter. he watched as you waltzed away, heading towards your friend group to chat. kaji turned his head to the side, only to find his upperclassmen staring back at him. his bloodshot eyes were puffy, lips pursed before he raised an almost empty bottle of god-knows-what to his lips.

great. now he has to babysit.

when he sat down next to hiragi, kaji had a bad feeling.

“m’gonna do it tonight, kaji.”

call it foresight, or a crazy good intuition, but ren kaji knew his heart would sink this very night. “good” he hummed. it was the only thing to come out of his mouth, as he felt his stomach churn from the anxiety.

“ya sure ya don’t feel anything for her?”

“all good” he squeaked, “let me know how it goes.”

when he found you a while later, kaji was stunned. there you were, drunk out of your mind and blowing smoke out of your pretty lips, body swaying to one of fanny lu's greatest hits.

with kota. fucking. sako.

it was a night of revelations, seeing as the once grumpy blond had a tiny smile on his face, mouthing the lyrics to don juan while facing you. his stiff body was now in sync with yours, chuckles escaping your lips as you commented on how great of a dancer he was.

kaji saw you stumble, and he took that as a sign. he knew he had to care for you. that, and the fact that he also had to get you away from sako, for his own mental wellbeing. with his hand getting ahold of yours, kaji guided you to a more secluded space of the patio, patting your head and asking if you're okay.

"you should go home, yn. you've had enough to drink."

when he asked to hang with you the day after, kaji was wary. sitting down next to one another in one of cactus bakery's booths, he sighed.

"you got home safe?"

"mhm."

"you didn't dance with me."

"yeah, i didn't."

"you did with sako, though."

resting your head on his shoulder, you laughed. "fanny lu is certainly not denied to anyone! if you had chosen another song other than feid's, i certainly would've danced with you, rennie."

a small smile appeared on his face as his mind raced on about what could have been the greatest night of his life, only to come back to his senses after he realized it could have been someone else's.

"anything else happen?"

"yeah" you shrugged, "hiragi texted me this morning, said he liked me."

he froze. since when was he hiragi to you?

"…well, what'd you say?"

ren kaji thought he was going to die.

"turned him down. he's like a brother to me, and i made that abundantly clear. he took it well, so that's that! he thanked me for being so mature about it."

last night was now certainly the greatest night of kaji's life, as he realized he still has a chance.

WHEN ONE STORY CLOSES, ANOTHER OPENS.

HAJIME UMEMIYA, featuring JO TOGAME

hajime umemiya was going to pop a blood vessel when he saw none other than shishitoren's second-in-command's hand holding yours, noses nearly grazing each other as he leaned down to whisper in your ear. your giggles, which were once his favorite tune, were now like nails on a chalkboard.

because it was togame who made you laugh.

his anger was indetectable, a smile plastered on his face as he observed the way in which you laughed at his jokes, how you tilted your head to the side and looked at him with those alluring eyes of yours, how you reached out to him when talking.

screw that, it was so obvious that umemiya was fucking jealous, as his eyes were squinted, his face had an expression of disgust, and one could swear that his left eyelid was trembling.

when you went to him a few days later telling him you had exchanged socials with togame, umemiya simply nodded with a smile on his face, congratulating you on how well things were going. he thought his soul was going to leave his body.

"he said he used to play street ball, and he played as a striker, and he wants to play volleyball with me! can you believe that, ume?"

"that's great, y/n! y'know i used to play street ball too, i was well-known for that back in the day, i used to play for my middle school as a striker" he grinned, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. "i could teach you to play both sports if you'd like! you wouldn't have to hop onto shishitoren turf that way."

hajime umemiya was utterly adorable.

that same night you received a text.

UME !! <3 This Thursday me and my siblings are gonna play ball! You wanna join?

umemiya's t-shirt fit you like a glove.

having little attire for a match, umemiya offered to gift you one of his shirts for you to play in, and the white and baby blue stripes made you look fantastic. to him, you were an angel sent from heaven to bless his eyes, as well as the football 'field'.

after playing like total lunatics, umemiya sat down cross-legged in the middle of the park's grass, you laying down and having your head resting on his thighs.

what umemiya wanted to do in that moment was kiss you senseless.

"hey ume… can you help me with something?"

"sure thing."

"togame's sort of being a bit pushy, and i don't have any interest in him at all. can you take a picture with me so that he'll shoo?"

his eyes sparkled more than the world's most expensive diamond. he excitedly nodded, asking you to open your phone's camera as he gently moved so that he laid beside you, resting his head on your shoulder and his arm wrapped around your waist.

click!

umemiya felt like the luckiest man in the world when he found out togame had seen your story with him and had suddenly ghosted you.

GOOD PEOPLE, GOOD DEEDS.

HARUKA SAKURA, featuring YAMATO ENDO

when haruka sakura heard of a certain someone's temporary return to furin, he thought nothing of it. except for when that certain someone came waltzing up to him after seeing him interact with you a few minutes prior, a smug smile on his face.

"so, sakura! mind slippin' me her number?"

"huh?"

"yeah! that girl you were talking to before, she's totally my type."

"and why the hell would i do that?"

endo laughed as he placed his arm on sakura's shoulders, seeing how the boy in question's face turned beet red. "because, sakura, you're a good person! good people do good deeds!"

there was no way in hell haruka sakura was giving him your number. matter of fact, he didn't budge!

so why in the fuck were you giggling in front of him at pothos, telling him yamato endo was in your messages asking you out to breakfast?

sakura's eye started to twitch as he asked how he got your number, nearly spitting out his omelette rice when you told him nirei had given him your number. when you told him that endo was planning on coming to furin on saturday to meet up with you, his face became a newfound shade of red. whether it was from anger or from endo's affection towards you, he did not know.

friday came by, and to sakura's surprise…

"oh gosh, haru!"

"what's going on?"

"endo cancelled breakfast, said he couldn't make it since he's on his turf and can't come to bofurin's."

"'s a shit move to cancel last minute."

"but, tsubaki told me there's a party over at keisei street tomorrow night. wanna come with? i don't wanna go alone."

sakura's ears and cheeks were flushed as he stuttered a reply: a meek and simple 'yeah'. you smiled as you wrapped your arms around sakura, too excited to even let him react. when saturday night came around, you thought you were going to die.

yamato endo was in keisei street, grinding on another girl as he asked for her number.

your jaw dropped to the floor. to your surprise, sakura was even more enraged than you were. grabbing your wrist, he dragged you over to a bench, sitting you down and placing your head on his shoulder.

"let it out."

confused, you asked what he meant by it. he laid his head on top of yours, with you feeling how his stiff body slowly softened as he sighed.

"i said let it out. yer obviously hurt by that asshole, so let it out."

your sobs were swallowed by the blaring music, but for some reason, the sadness quickly faded away, instead being replaced with a sense of tranquility. as if you belonged there, with sakura by your side.

sakura was sure that yamato endo was a good person, doing him a favor by leaving you all to himself.

note. this is for my boyfriend. this is what you get for calling me your stinky poo. i am not a poo. the poos are your friends who tried to get with me later on. or perchance the poo has been you all along, because you did not give one shit that they liked me and you made your move. love always, your princess.

update 15/10: this is for my ex. you deserved this because you're a piece of shit who literally (allegedly) got with your best friend's (the character behind endo) girlfriend. fuck you you piece of trash.

#wind breaker x reader #wind breaker (satoru nii) x reader #kaji x reader #umemiya x reader #sakura x reader #ren kaji x reader #hajime umemiya x reader #haruka sakura x reader #windbreaker x reader #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker x you #kaji ren x reader #umemiya hajime x reader #sakura haruka x reader

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whereispearlescentmoon · 18 days ago

Text

(TW for Double Life Pearl typical self injury)

A fun fact about frostbite:

Regaining feeling in your extremities after suffering from even mild frostbite is extremely painful. You can develop blisters when rewarming, and the area will actually feel hot to the touch, like when you get a bad scrape or burn. It is, in essence, a burn, because a number of layers of tissue have probably been killed. You may even have some nerve damage at this stage, though probably not permanent. It feels like sticking your hand in lava.

And so imagine Pearl, alone, having just gotten tired of messing with Scott because she can’t even feel the sting of the snow anymore, deciding she needs to warm herself up. Her hands are stiff and clumsy, and nearly blue. She giggles as she heats up a bucket of water, blue blue blue like Scott’s hair. Thoughts come slow after a while in the snow. It’s like they’ve frozen too, having to crawl with the same lead like limbs Pearl has before they can reach her. She tries to tamp down the fear that she’s going permanent damage to herself. Her hands look purple now anyways, she can’t shake the red from her vision. Or maybe they’re starting to bruise, the blood vessels busted from the cold.

She sticks her hands in the warm (not hot, she’s not stupid, just angry) and screams freely at the feeling. It’s not like anyone else is around to hear her agony. The extremities on fire. Delicate fingers and calloused palms that are ordinarily used to create beautiful things, that she has used to kill, to pet her wolves, to build and destroy, are burning. It’s worse than the snow, so much worse, she’s sure of it. Her hearts tick back up even as her throat goes raw, eyes stinging from her open sobs.

She doesn’t actually know if Scott can feel it too, or if he can only feel the damage she does. This is healing, and sometimes healing is pain. She hopes he can feel it, but the lack of messages popping up on the com she’s sat by her feet say he probably can’t. It’s a shame, she hates to waste good suffering on herself.

It won’t even leave a scar on him. It will on her. Three life series and a special later and she still can’t fully feel her finger tips when she’s in the games. She will look at Scott beneath the GGGGs base and say his new eyes look like blisters. He will blessedly (and pointedly) ignore the circular scars that coat her hands from the real things.

#pearlescentmoon #smajor1995 #double life smp #wild life smp #fic #kind of?

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eldritch-spouse · 4 months ago

Note

*me accidentally summoning a demon, using a ritual I didn’t know would work*

*trying to shove them back through the portal before they can fully emerge.*: sorry sorry sorry sorry sorry-

[You rolled a 1, that demon is Mervin.]

You have the audacity to summon him during his after-work bath. Summon him with enough resources that he's not given the option to deny it.

Mervin yells hard enough to probably startle his brothers as the water floods out, supernaturally splashed away from the tub, where a large rift now sucks him into the surface. He's afforded no inch of dignity or self-respect, thrown into a lopsided summoning circle naked, wet and cold.

The first thing he sees after catching his breath and rattling at the temperature is a human. This small, insignificant bug frozen in place like a deer entranced by headlights.

And then, before he can even bark a word, you're trying to shove him back into a closing rift by the top of his head. What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!

Idiot that you are for touching the demon you summoned without establishing a deal first, Mervin can very easily grab your forearm and yank you into the circle, effectively throwing you off and avoiding getting a limb amputated when the rift finally zips closed. Just the mere realization that you could have gravely harmed him in that stunt has the pride demon snarling from the chest, loudly enough to make you scoot back, still spewing apologies and clutching your likely injured arm.

He's seeing red.

It's not long before he's squatting to pull you towards him, hearing none of your frightened bleating and snagging a flailing ankle that is used to reel you close forcefully. A purple figure looms over yours, droplets of water staining your clothes as Mervin studies your paralyzed form from top to bottom. There's nothing about you remotely serious enough to indicate you know what you just did. In fact, you look like a complete buffoon that somehow got their grubby hands in a summoning grimoire. He's so angry he thinks a blood vessel is going to burst.

" Idiot! Moron! Brainless, mumbling child! " He growls, knowing damn well you're a grown human. He'd expect this out of a stupid teenager.

" I'm sorry I'm sorry I'm sorry I'msorryI'msorry-! " You keep heaving like a chant, cheeks heated, palms limply bared.

Mervin has to snap you out of the fit. An index and thumb pinch soft cheeks until you mouth has puckered into an 'o'. " What. Do. You. Want? " He warns.

" Wh... What? "

The claws tighten their hold, piercing into skin gratuitously enough to make you whine and squirm. You're not so annoying when you're quiet. Pretty, even, for a human. He catches himself staring at your lips for longer than he should and frowns. " Why did you summon me, you half-witted maggot? "

" I didn't- Didn't mean to. I didn't think it'd work! "

In that moment, Merv can only shriek internally. This will take so much longer than he thought possible. Honestly, he could just kill you. End the encounter, find a way back home. But... You're cute enough to bully some, especially after how you've inconvenienced him. Might as well get some entertainment out of you.

" There are sewer rats more dignified than you. " He mutters, then harshly rolls you out of the circle before standing tall.

You're confused, naturally, cowering under his judgemental stare and trying to appear minimally composed. " ... Now what? "

He wants to bite you.

" Now you make a deal with me, dumbass. " He flicks water droplets off his shoulder.

" But I don't kn- "

" I don't care! Finish this! "

" Well... " Your fidgeting hands shake, your throat sounds dry. " What kind of services do you provide? "

Mervin looks at the ceiling so the urge to choke you doesn't overwhelm him. " Would it kill you to read before inviting the demonic into your home? Lords, if I knocked on your skull there'd be an echo, wouldn't there? "

You only shuffle your feet closer, looking away.

" I'll kill anyone you want. "

Your eyes nearly pop out your sockets. " N- None of that! "

" I'll ruin the reputation of someone you know. I'll make people worship you. I'll frame- "

" Stop- Stop please, I don't want that. " Your meek interruption has Mervin stalling. Humans are usually easily swayed by rather simple suggestions, you must really be in the wrong side of witchcraft to look this scandalized.

He shakes his head, pinching his brow ridge. " Suggestions? "

" Can't... I dunno, can't you just watch a movie with me tonight? Like, I didn't mean for any of this to happen- "

" You want me to watch a movie with you. " Mervin interrupts, unreadable.

" ... Yes, please? "

" And what am I getting in return? " Any self-respecting pride demon would honestly have torn you to shreds by now.

If you weren't stumped before, you are now. It's clear you're not going to come up with anything in the next five minutes, which Mervin can't be fucked to wait through.

" Clothes. And you're serving me for a full week. " He provides.

The gasp you let out almost endears him. " S- Serving you?! "

" This is beyond disrespectful, I should gut you, but I'm offering you a place as my servant for a week. " The demon huffs. " Take this as the mercy you know it is. "

There's a pause.

" Okay... "

You fucking idiot.

Mervin grins for a moment. The deal has been struck (very poorly, might he add), so he can now properly step out. The first thing he does is sit on your couch, legs crossed, an impatient yet mildly self-satisfied tail swaying around.

You scurry like a terrorized house cat, he hears you devastating a closet, eventually coming back with a long robe, who you shakily offer to the mid-ranker. Mervin rips it off your hand and allows himself some modesty, finally, leaning back with his eyes fully closed. This will do as minimal relaxation. Not as good as his bath, but passable.

Fortunately, you make the wise decision not to sit too close to the demon, reaching to open a bag of popcorn on the coffee table. His nose crinkles at the noise. " What are we watching, human? " He prods.

" Uhh, the Star War- "

" No. Pick something else. "

Mervin peeks at you nervously channel surfing, smirking to himself.

This next week's going to be so amusing. If he can keep his no-good brothers out of it.

#Mervin oc

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emmg · 4 months ago

Text

Imagine for a second everyone ends up happy and Lavellan and Solas get back together. Cue Dorian popping a blood vessel.

Dorian: “You’re back with this fuck?"

Lavellan, flustered: "I can explain—"

Dorian: "With this living omelette?"

Lavellan: "It's not—"

Dorian: "This balding crypt keeper with the emotional range of a brick wall and a wardrobe that makes him look like a discount drapery store threw up on him? The same one who poofed away after saying some cryptic shit about I WiSh iT CoUlD vHenAn?"

Solas: “The mark would have—"

Dorian: "Shut the fuck up, cue ball. I don't care if the mark was going to explode, you still look like you wash your clothes in your own self-pity. And you—" jabs a finger at Lavellan, "what’s your excuse? Has it really been so long that the sight of a naked skull and endless 'mystical' speeches turned you on again?"

Lavellan: “It’s more than that—"

Dorian: "More than that?! He abandoned you, took your fucking arm, and now you’re letting him back in your bed? Are you out of your mind or just starved for terrible decisions? You could’ve had anyone. But no, you pick the fade's worst motivational speaker.”

Solas: “Master Pavus, this is between—”

Dorian: “Oh no, don’t even try that ‘Master Pavus’ nonsense with me. You’ve got the emotional depth of a wet mop and a sex appeal that makes a mud pit look enticing. And yet here you are, again, trying to guilt-trip your way back into her pants with your world-saving speeches. What is it, Solas? You gonna whisper sweet nothings about 'the averted apocalypse' this time? Maybe throw in a lecture on why she was just not woke enough to understand your big, tragic plan but it's fine since everything worked out?"

Rook and Emmrich in their happy, non toxic relationship: :0

Solas: "Dorian—"

Dorian: "No, no, shut the fuck up. Seriously, what do you even do that’s remotely appealing? What did you do for the past ten years? Did you just sit there, staring at a wall, philosophizing about how it’s not 'connected to the Fade' while Lavellan was over there, not that far, mind you, actually trying to live her life?"

Lavellan, miserably: “Dorian, please—"

Dorian: "Do you know how many tears she cried over your wrinkly, bald ass? The sleepless nights? And for what? So you could show up with the same damn sad expression, like a dog that got kicked, expecting her to fall right back into your arms? Well, congratulations, you manipulative little twat, it worked. You got her again. But if you think for one second I’m going to sit here and let this farce play out without letting you know exactly what I think—"

Solas: “This is not your concern—"

Dorian, grinning viciously: "Not my concern? Oh, it’s my concern now, you ancient, egg-headed disaster. You took her arm, and now, what? You’re back for the other one too? What’s next? Gonna steal her dignity too? No, wait—" He flips both of them off. "You already did that. Honestly, Lavellan, were you that desperate? Did your standards drop so low that this walking mid-life crisis seemed like a good idea AGAIN?"

Lavellan, trying to hide: "I just thought—"

Dorian: "No, no, you didn't think. You never think when it comes to this pointy-eared monk reject. You just let him walk all over you with his cryptic, brooding bullshit and now here we are—again. Tell me, Lavellan, how many bad life choices does it take before you finally learn not to open your legs to misery?"

Lavellan: “Dorian—”

Dorian, rounding on Solas: "You’ve got some nerve coming back, Solas. You with your ‘oh woe is me, I didn't fix the world so I'll ruin this woman's life instead again’ schtick. And for what? What do you even have to offer besides a fucking headache and a masterclass in celibacy?”

#solas #solavellan #dragon age 4 #datv #dragon age the veilguard #dorian pavus #dorian is the mvp #we all need dorian #save us from the egg dorian we beg you

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spicy30 · 20 days ago

Text

Lycanthropy

Pairing(s): Cregan Stark x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader, Bennard Stark (Uncle of Cregan Stark) x x Fem!OriginalHybrid Reader

Crossover: TDV/TO→HOTD

cw: graphic scenes (violence) major age gap (Reader is 1000+) PTSD, Self-resentment, unnecessary cruelty, Stockholm syndrome???

Rating: 18+

Add-ons: AFAB reader, no use of Y/N, angst/no comfort, reader is NOT sentimental, Slow-burn

2/2

(Not Proofread)

WC: 11.7K

A deep guttural sound ripped from your throat. You clawed at your clothes ripping them off. It was cold here. Where that witch had sent you, you didn’t know, but here you were in cold white woods.

You didn’t want this. You didn’t want your bones breaking. You didn’t want to hear as your screams morphed into growls. You didn’t want to be a hybrid. You yelled out cursing Klaus for dragging you down with him.

Never once did you ever want to acknowledge you were a bastard. You had been such a daddy’s girl even if he did not love you as much as you loved him. It did not change that in your heart Mikael had been your father, you still wanted him to be your father, even if he did want to kill you all.

That is how you phrased it.

Mikael wanted to kill everyone, not just you. It wasn’t personal. Your father didn’t just hate you. You couldn’t have been a bastard.

Yet here you were crying out in pain as you grasped at the trees as each bone in your body broke and rearranged itself. Here you were feeling as your eyesight was impossibly enhanced and you could see in ways you never did before. Here you were feeling as your fangs grew larger than ever before. Here you were smelling everything, including the nearby town filled with women and children who were crawling around like maggots. You hadn’t felt this strong in centuries. Not since you first tasted human blood, not since you ripped apart your first human in an attempt to sedate this inhumane hunger that now consumed you.

You let out one final yell in agony before it turned completely into a snarl.

It’ll be a massacre.

You tore through men, women, and children alike. You had never feasted on human flesh before, only their blood. It was pure animal instinct, this urge to kill, this urge to rip out the insides of anything and anyone that moved. Your favorite part was the heart. The muscle was partially fun to chew through. The blood vessels seemed to pop in your mouth as you drank the blood. You couldn’t count how many heads you ripped off, how many people you tore in half, how many infants you chewed through feeling their mushy heads burst under your teeth.

It all felt so good. You ran through the cold woods, heading towards the next town that would sedate these cruel desires that were forced to lay dormant for near millennia.

…

“I heard the thing tore right through Torrhen's Square then the next day it slaughtered everything in sight in the Deepwood Motte. Not even the babes were spared.” You perked up angling your ear to the voices.

“May the gods give them rest. A stroke of ill fortune to be in the beast's way.” A gruff voice spoke out. “The beast leaves the bodies half-eaten. It eats hearts and other times eats the belly of the person leaving them torn in half, but in all the babes, it only ever eats the head. The monstrosity is hunting for sport.” The gruff voice spat out.

“We’ll see how well it hunts when I use the skin of the beast as a coat and its head hangs in the Great Hall.” Another spoke, this one seemed to be the head of the hunting group.

Your tongue licked your snout, cleaning off blood from your latest kill, though it seemed you just found the newest batch of victims.

Running towards them using your supernatural speed you reached them in no time. You leaped out taking the head of one clean off.

The only thing the men heard was the plop of something behind them. Rickon Stark turned to see one of his men without a head. Instinctually he went to stand in front of his son, Cregan. It had been a mistake to bring Cregan.

Rickon knew he should’ve left him behind. He was his only heir. The only one he had left since his youngest son died in childhood. He had to protect Cregan. He looked around for the creature and his men drew their swords.

A soft crunch was heard and Rickon turned to face the thing. A wolf. A wolf the color of sunlit ivory that seemed to glow with dawn itself. In its mouth held the head of his fallen comrade. The wolf closed its jaw and the crunching of the skull was heard as the wolf dropped the now disfigured head.

Rickon watched in horror as his men charged and in what seemed to be the blink of an eye all of them were on the floor bleeding out crying out for mercy. One was clutching his throat which had a chunk ripped out. Another was holding the inside of his thigh as blood sputtered out in ways Rickon had never seen and the other had his head caved in. The last one, however, forced Rickon to put his hand out covering Cregan’s eyes as he watched in horror as the wolf pulled the organs out and the body laid out, nearly bit in half.

The wolf turned its sights on him and for the first time since his first battle, his hands trembled as he held his sword. The wolf lunged at him and before he could blink Rickon felt teeth biting into his internal organs. He looked down as the wolf opened its jaw making the hole in his stomach bigger. The thing had rammed its snout so hard into him that it punctured a hole in him. Rickon was already dead. He knew this, however, his son was not. Rickon grabbed the fur of the wolf and pulled it towards him as he steered himself away from Cregan. The wolf jerked itself while its snout remained inside Rickon.

He gritted his teeth and yelled as he brought up his Valyrian steel sword, Ice, and drove it down on the wolf. It gave out a cry.

“An abomination!” He yelled out and he felt the wolf pause from its jerking.

“You are an abomination.”

Familiar words echoed in your head.

“That is a pretty dress.” You smiled inching forward towards the maiden. “You were always so good at making them. I asked you for one, remember?”

The girl in front of you began crying. “I promise I’ll make you one! Just please! Please have mercy.”

“No, I want the one you have on. Give it to me.” Dark veins pooled under your eyes as you felt your fangs protrude. Why your family hated this, you could not say. You loved the power it gave. No one could stand in your way, no one could say no anymore.

“Now?” The girl asked and you rolled your eyes.

“Yes, now. Take it off and give it to me.” Though you had yet to kill anyone, if this girl took any longer she would be your first. You watched in amusement as tears streamed down her face as she trembled. As you continued to watch her your smile faded. She moved like a tortoise.

“What will I wear?” Your patience snapped at her question and in the blink of an eye you sunk your teeth into her as she screamed. You pulled her head away for better access, though in your excitement you pulled her head too much and it ripped off. Her blood splattered all over your pretty yellow dress.

You dropped the body and held the head in your hand tilting your head to the side.

“Imbecile. You made me rip off your head and ruin the dress.” You murmured before drop-kicking the head off into the woods. You grinned and kicked her headless body with such force that you heard the snap of the spin as it was flung into the woods.

You turned to walk away before your leg broke under sending you crashing to the ground. You screamed out in pain. Just as quickly as it broke, it healed and as you went to stand up your arm broke and once more you screamed.

As your bones kept breaking your screams echoed through the forest. You looked up seeing your mother looking at you as if you were a monster. Your father was not far behind as your collar bone snapped. Blood filled your every sense, blood on your mouth from your first kill, the smell of it, the feel of the warm sticky blood felt disgusting on your overly sensitive skin, however, the worst was your sight. When you looked up to your father, he had a look of disgust as he looked towards you, every single crease of disappointment on his face you could see as your vision sharpened.

“You are an abomination.” The words came out of your father's mouth. The same words that had been told to Niklaus when it was discovered what he was. A bastard, and now here you were proven to be another fruit of your mother’s frolicking.

You cried and begged saying that it wasn’t true. You screamed and cried as they tied you to the same post-Niklaus had been on. Though as you cried you did not fight him and instead were willing to let yourself be tied. Niklaus was the only one who fought against your father. You yelled to Niklaus to let you be. That you were not a bastard like him, that this was a mistake. You loved your father and your father loved you.

You kept repeating those words over and over as the ceremony to lock away the ugly parts of you that you swore did not exist, proceeded.

You tore yourself out of the man who repeated those same words to you. You inched backward trying to get the sword out of you.

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!” Your eyes darted to the boy who stood there in terror. He looked no older than twelve or thirteen. As if you finally came back to yourself to overpower that animalistic instinct to kill you stood still watching the father cry out to his son. Pleading for him to leave, saying that he loved him.

It tugged at a heart string though it was quickly overtaken as the father pulled his sword out of you and you let out a yelp that now sounded more human. By accident, you slammed your paw down and it caved in the man’s chest and consequently his heart.

Cregan looked over to his father who whispered out a final ‘I love you’ before he died. He saw steam rise from the gaping hole in his father’s stomach and the wolf pulled its paw out of his father’s chest. Piercing amber eyes met Cregen’s gray ones. Those eyes, they looked ravenous.

Cregan does not know why his body moved the way it did but all he knows is that he was swinging down Ice on the wolf’s body like one would chop wood.

He heard the wolf’s cry though it was a disturbing cry. It almost sounded human under the wolf’s cry. It was as if a woman was crying out in agony along with the wolf. Cregan kept swinging the sword as blood splattered over him, on his eyes, his mouth, his face, his clothes, and his hands which made it hard to hold the large sword that was much too big for him. Ice nearly cut the wolf in half. It only clung together by skin.

“Cregan!” At the sudden shout of his name and the blood that coated his hands and the hilt, Ice slipped from his grasp. He turned around to face his uncle, Bennard Stark, and his three sons; Benjen, Brandon, and Elric Stark.

They stood still as they watched him. There he stood covered in wolf’s blood and a nearly cut-in-half wolf lying under him. Bennard Stark rushed over to him picking up Ice and dragging Cregan away from the bloody scene. Cregan only looked towards his uncle with blank eyes and trembling hands.

“What happened to Cregan?” His uncle asked him and he could not find it in him to speak so he pointed to the wolf, though to his utter horror, it was gone, only a bloody trail was left. It was impossible for anything to survive that. The wolf’s body only clung together by skin! Cregan was sure.

“Benjen, Brandon, Elric follow the trail. If you find it, cut the damn head off.” His uncle commanded and Cregan shook his head. They would die, if that thing survived its injuries and was restored to its former form, his cousins would be dead in seconds.

…

You had managed to get away, but just barely. The sword that little twat used slowed down your healing exponentially, though your spine reconnected but just barely so that you were able to crawl your way out of there. Your supernatural speed in the use of crawling had gotten you at least a mile away. You panted and cried each time you dragged yourself forward dirt and rocks were lodged into your lower half, inside of you slowing your healing even more.

Your cry became less wolf and more human as you dragged yourself forward eager to get to the town you smelled. You need to feed and fast. The next time you clawed forward a human hand showed with long claws instead of a wolf’s paw.

As time passed you reverted to your human form yet you were still nearly cut in half, this time you didn’t have fur to shield you against the cold of the snow. Your ears picked up steps, not far from you and you cried out for help. An old woman and a young man came running and she screamed. The man hugged the woman shielding her from the view.

“Help me. Please…” You begged. They weren’t close enough for you to compel them.

“How are you alive?” The young man questioned looking down at your naked body and the dark and dirty entrails that spilled out of you though there was no more blood to leak out of you, the vampire side of you kept you alive.

“Just help me.” You begged once more. Finally, the man let go of the old woman who you assumed was his mother, and cautiously crept over to you. As he bent down you looked up making eye contact with him.

“Give your arm and don’t scream.” You compelled and the man wordlessly gave you his arm and you bit into it.

The woman screamed for her son and you let go. “Get your mother and bring her to me.” You compelled him once more and he grabbed his mother harshly bringing her to you.

“Shut up and wrap me with your coat.” You compelled her as well and continued feasting on the man’s arm. Stopping you waited for your healing to increase, but it didn’t, it kept healing at a slow pace only just barely keeping you alive.

“Damn it.” You muttered. You looked up and gave an order for the man to pick you up and take you to their home.

As you entered the small village you looked around and then smelled the air. You’d recognize that smell anywhere. You had lived in it for nine centuries.

Just what had that little Bennet witch done to you?

You looked up towards the man who held you. “Invite me in.” You told him and he did. They set you down on their dining table. “Rinse me and sew me back together.” Wordlessly the man and his mother left and you were left on the table looking down. It was disgusting to see. Part of your liver and large intestine were beginning to form again. The man came in with a bucket of water and the woman with a needle and string.

You clenched your jaw. No way in hell were you staying awake for this. “You’ll shut your mouth about all of this and you will stay by my side until I command it otherwise.” You compelled them both and they began to start preparing for their work. Just as the man went to clean your dirty entrails you stopped them.

“Wait, break my neck first, then work and if I wake and you are not done, break it again.” You told the man and he went and made quick work of you.

The next time you woke you were screaming in pain. Your spine was fully intact now and that meant all of your nerves were now reconnected. Just as quickly as you woke, you felt your neck snap and once more you fell into darkness.

The next time you woke your body was whole again, but you could still feel your insides rearranging themselves slowly. That damned sword. What had they used? Had it been anything else you would’ve been fine by now. You looked down to see stitches circling your torso keeping it together. You stayed there on the table shivering from the cold air. When was the last time you were this cold?

As a vampire, you never felt the cold, you were dead. What has this new side done to you? Damn, Klaus, you had begged him to leave you be. You could care less about this ugly side of you. You’d rather not relive the moments where you were deemed a bastard. This new side of you, made you aggressive, much like how you first were when you were a vampire. You thought back to your time as a wolf. Every single kill, you remembered. The burst of blood in your mouth, the skulls crushed in your jaw, the crying of the women and children. The men who charged at you only to be killed a second later.

However, the most vivid memory was of the scared little boy whose father you slaughtered in front of him. Why him out of all the people you felt sorry for, you couldn’t say. You probably could’ve killed him and spared yourself this suffering, but you let the boy do this to you. A punishment for being the monster that your father always said you were. Revenge for what you did to his father, justice for the lives you took.

You clenched your jaw but felt something sharp stab the inside of your mouth. You picked your teeth to pull out the thing that stabbed you. As you inspected it you sighed disappointment. A piece of skull. You threw it to the side and simply laid it on the table.

An abomination your father said.

You had killed families, infants, mothers, fathers, and seniors, no one was spared but the boy. You were not your brothers. You were not Klaus, or Kol, or even Elijah for how noble he pretended to be. Your siblings never felt regret for their killings.

But you did. You were different. Right? Your father did not just hate you. You were kind before. You felt remorse. You were NOT an abomination.

A debt was owed. A human life was not long in the span of all eternity. You could do the right thing and repent. You were not like Niklaus. You would not remain guilty of the sins your father had condemned you for.

What was the boy’s name again, you tried to recall? You walked through the memories of blood and carnage.

“Cregan, my son! You must go, run back to Winterfell! Go!”

Cregan. That's what it was. Cregan from Winterfell.

“Where is Winterfell?” You asked out loud knowing your newest slaves were never too far from you.

“Only a half a day’s ride away. Just East of here.” The woman spoke as she sewed flowers on the dress you had told her to make you.

“And who is Cregan?” You asked again.

“Cregan? He is the heir of Winterfell, oldest of Rickon Stark, Lord of Winterfell, and Warden of North.” The old woman answered once more. You gave out a hum of approval as you laid back on the table shivering slightly as the cold air washed over your naked and broken body.

…

At only thirteen years old Cregan succeeded his father. He sat in the Great Hall in the chair his father used to sit in and in his lap laid Ice. He felt the metal rest heavy on him. A large sword fit for a large man, yet here he was, only a boy holding a sword fit for a man. All because a wolf had taken his father away from him.

A Dire Wolf that was on their banner and represented House Stark. Yet it was a wolf that killed his father. Every night since then he has slept with Ice. That demon wolf was out, somewhere, lurking. He would not rest soundly until that wolf’s head sat hung in the Great Hall like his father wanted and he used the coat to clothe himself.

Cregan sat in the Great Hall with a permanent scowl on his face as he listened to the Lords speak. His uncle sat next to him. He would reign as regent until his fifteenth name-day. Two years, two years would be enough to hunt down that beast.

“My Lord, I present you with a gift. You have lost your father, I will give you someone who can deliver the support a man needs.” Cregan looked up towards Lord Tallhart, his holdfast had been the first to ravage the beast. “I bring you someone who has managed to bring stability once more to Torrhen's Square, now I give her to you, My Lord.” The doors opened and Cregan watched as a woman walked in. A golden ivory dress she wore. The same color as the wolf. That color was forever ingrained in his mind. He watched you walk in and bow. There was something about you that seemed familiar. Something about the way you carried yourself and the way you spoke. It puts him on edge like he should be wary of you.

“I thank you Lord Tallhart, but my nephew has no needs that can be taken care of by a woman. For that, he shall have a wife.” His uncle spoke and Cregan watched your eyes narrow at his uncle.

“Of course, I would never dare to insinuate such a thing. However, I do not give her for duties that a simple whore can manage if one so desires. This woman can offer support unlike anyone, if you are displeased with her I will gladly take her back.” Argued Lord Tallhart. “I implore you to take her.”

Cregan watched as Lord Tallhart vehemently argued for you. What kind of support did you offer? Cregan was well aware of the things whores did for men, his half-sister was born due to these ‘supports’ whores offered. Cregan signed and agreed to take you if it would stop this incessant arguing.

He watched you bow and meet his eyes. Your eyes were sharp and familiar. What kind of support would you offer this young lord?

After the meeting was conducted Cregan walked the halls of the castle holding Ice close to him. He was often allowed to leave due to still being in his mourning period. As he walked these halls that seemed so big and dark to him he felt the wind brush his hair. He gripped Ice tighter and turned around only to see no one there. No servants roamed these halls, there was no one here but him. He sighed and kept forward with a tight grip on Ice. As he turned once more he heard the air rustling behind him. This time Cregan unsheathed Ice. He stayed still looking around, was the wolf back? No, why would the wolf be here, in the castle? The wolf could not be here.

The wolf was not here.

Cregan felt his breath escape him. He held on to Ice so hard that it made the sword shake. He sheathed the sword trying to calm himself. The wolf was not here. Should anyone see him holding out Ice ready to strike air they would call him mad. The heir to Winterfell cannot be mad.

The wolf is not here.

He didn’t feel safe here. He needed to get to his father's chambers. As Cregan walked through the dark halls, he felt as if something was watching. Something that shouldn’t be here. Something that shouldn’t exist here. Something that was displaced and had no right to be here and it was watching him.

The wolf.

It echoed in his head. The wolf echoed in his head. The promise of love his father had told him. Cregan’s steps grew hurried. He ran through that dark hallway to get to his father’s chamber room.

There was something on Cregan’s heel as he ran. Something was breathing down his neck.

Cregan turned the corner and hit something and when he looked up he felt as if those same ravenous amber eyes of the wolf looked down on him. His breath was caught as he looked up at you. He couldn’t move as he looked at you. His hands spasmed as he tried to grab onto Ice for stability.

It wasn’t until he was eye to eye with you and your calming words that he felt his breath come back to him. When you spoke it felt like a cool river rushed through his veins covering his body.

“Are you alright, my lord?” you asked, reaching out a hand. Cregan nodded and took your hand. It was soft and warm; you almost seemed unnaturally warm. There was an underlying fear Cregan had of you, and he couldn’t explain why, yet he felt as if he could not respond accordingly. “Shall I accompany you to your chambers?” you asked, and Cregan shook his head. If anything, he needed to get away from you.

You watched as Cregan left you behind. You sighed in annoyance. All you wanted to do was a little repenting to make yourself feel better, but this brat wasn’t letting you do it and of course, you couldn’t just compel him, it had to be natural, despite the fact you just compelled him to calm down, but that was different, the kid was gasping as if he was drowning.

However, the look in his eyes. You knew that look anywhere.

Fear.

It radiated off him in waves. He knew you, he recognized you.

A cruel smile bloomed on your face and you felt your vision sharpen and lock onto the fleeting figure of Cregan. You dug your fingernails into your palm drawing blood. You breathed in his scent of fear. You grabbed onto the wall next to you. You had to stay put and calm down. The stone cracked under your strength. Damn, Klaus, it has taken you a near century to get your impulses under control. Amongst your siblings, and even Klaus, your thirst for blood was unmatched. That first century of learning to control yourself was pain. You would watch as your siblings would spill as much as they so wished while you were forced to stand on the sidelines eating scraps. Your hunger for blood drew you to rip heads off, even if you didn’t want to. It was an animalistic urge that, unfortunately, ran a lot stronger in you than in any of your other siblings.

It proved to be a problem. In only fifty years the rumors of your bloodshed reached worldwide, and thus The Brotherhood of the Five were born to kill you and your siblings and unfortunately, gave Klaus the weapon to put your siblings to sleep. Once Finn was put to sleep as a consequence of your actions, your siblings, Klaus included, put you down and forced you to get your appetite under control. You had been clean for nearly nine centuries, it would’ve been millennia had it not been for the slip-up in the 20s with the introduction of another who was like you.

Stefen Salvator.

Your brother let you loose along with Stefen, and when your fun ended once more your animalistic urges were put down, like ripping out the claws of an animal. To take the claws from a predator is to leave it bare to the world.

While your siblings were free to turn whomever they wanted once again you were forced to sit on the sidelines and watch. Your blood was infected with this disease of being unable to control your hunger. They say when freedom fades, even sunlight feels pale and so the lines you sired were always put down like lambs to slaughter.

You were never allowed to love another knowing you would always have to ask for someone else to turn them, lest they turn out to be a monster like you. You never understood why Rebekah asked when she simply could. It was a luxury you did not have yet your little sister never used.

And now here you were, alone in the world, with no brothers or sisters to keep you in check, no father to hunt you down. Nothing to kill you. This bastard side of you was pulling you. Bad enough you had already torn through towns, who would help you overcome this?

There was no one here. You’d have to rely on yourself and your will, but there was never much of that.

…

Weeks passed and Cregan continued to avoid you like a plague. You made his hair stand on end. There was something about you that wasn’t quite right. Your smiles were saccharine yet Cregan was never one for sweets. You were indeed helpful and your knowledge of medicine was unmatched. He understood why the Lord Tallhart said you were like a pillar. In only a few short weeks you had become the backbone of Winterfell. Sickness had always run rampant in Winterfell due to the cold, but with you, those colds seemed to disappear. You always seemed to be the one everyone was looking for.

Yet despite all of that Cregan couldn’t shake the anxiousness that you brought him whenever he looked at you.

Today was no different, once more you had gone out to do charity work for the commons, cured illnesses, and healed broken bones, and Cregan stayed far away from you. At first, even his uncle stayed far away from you and in turn, also had Cregan keep a distance from you, but now, as he looked at his uncle talking to you with more interest than a married man should, it seems his uncle has also fallen.

Though Cregan thinks his uncle is far too old for you. You looked to be around Cregan’s age, if not only a couple of summers older.

“My Lord, we have looked in the Wolfswood, there is no sight of the beast. You said it to be a sunlit ivory, we have not encountered any wolves of that coloring. Winter is coming and all the wolves are white here in the North.” Cregan listened and subconsciously gripped Ice.

“Mayhaps it has perished with its injuries.” The man spoke and Cregan shook his head.

“There would be a corpse, why is there not a corpse?” Cregan gritted his teeth. He hasn’t been able to sleep these past few weeks. He always felt as if the wolf were watching him and it terrified him more than he’d like to admit.

“My nephew only wishes to exact revenge on the Wolf that took his father, my brother, your late lord. Find the wolf. Perhaps it has gone South. I saw the coat myself. That wolf is no Northern wolf, it might’ve found its way to the Hornwood forest or even The Neck’s forest.” His uncle, Bennard Stark spoke. He knew his uncle only wished for the best. If his uncle did not back him on this, it would give the appearance that Cregan is mad with grief and riddled with fear of a wolf and Starks do not fear wolves.

Cregan clenched his jaw as he entered his chambers and dressed himself in his night clothes. He laid down on the bed that once belonged to his mother and father, Ice was never far from him as he thought about his next actions. He could not rest until he knew the wolf was dead for sure. There Cregan lay in his father’s bed trying to forget the snarling the wolf gave out, the cries it screamed. Slowly but surely Cregan fell into an uneasy slumber.

A wolf’s howl sounded and Cregan shot out of bed gripping Ice as he looked around the room that was lit by the fireplace in his chambers he could not see anything. But once again he heard the howl of a wolf. He breathed heavily before he felt his throat tighten. He was Cregan Stark, heir to Winterfell. He could not fear wolves, yet he was feeling as if were going to cry because of the howling of a wolf.

Once more he felt his breath escape him as he held his face in his hands.

A knock sounded and Cregan could not gather enough breath to tell them to leave him. He looked over and swore he saw amber eyes in the darkness. He crawled away unsheathing Ice holding it towards the door. He watched as you walked in with what he saw as false concern and your hands up.

“My lord, are you alright?” You asked, looking at the terrified boy. “Calm yourself.”

Every time you spoke to him, he fell into a trance—a trance that was impossible to escape. Your voice scraped the edges of silence, stirring shadows that lay dormant in his mind.

“Who are you?” He whispered trying to resist your calling. He listened as your words danced around in his mind and fog invaded his senses.

Cregan doesn’t remember much from that night or any nights that follow afterward. All he knows is that every night you enter his chamber rooms and the next morning he is awake sleeping through the entire night without a single dream.

One thing does not change, however. His fear of you does not leave him. Not even as you dress him, prepare his bath, bring his meals, brush his hair, or even as you tell him stories of what you depict as love.

“And so the little brother who doomed his family swore off love for everyone and once more the six siblings ran away.” You finished as you finished the last button on Cregan’s coat.

“How old are you?” He shivered at your unnaturally warm touch. You looked down on him and once more gooseflesh pebbled his skin. Cregan believes that he will always fear them.

“Old enough to know that you will be late to break your fast if you do not go.” You always did that. You never really told him anything about yourself. Not your age or where you came from. He didn’t even know if you had a father or a mother, but he’s sure you have siblings. The stories you tell him are always about five siblings, sometimes six. You spoke with fondness, like how he would if he spoke about his younger brother.

As he went to walk out he turned around only to see you tending to his bed. He walked out of his room, however, something compelled him to seek you once more. As he reached the room he gave a sharp gasp. The air whistled within the room. The same whistle that tormented him that day in the hall. He swallowed his fear and looked inside. He didn’t know what to expect. What would he do?

Cregan felt his hand twitch for Ice. Ice was nowhere near him. Ever since you had lulled him to sleep that night he no longer reached for Ice as he once did. What if this confirmed everything he thought of you? What did he even think of you? As he looked his brows furrowed. There you were putting Ice on a counter then you went to put out the fire. It wasn’t what you were doing that confused him, what left him puzzled was that it had been seconds since he stepped out and yet his bed had already been made.

That should’ve been impossible. No maid could make a bed that fast, yet in front of his eyes, his bed had been made. He took a step backward shaking his head. It wasn’t right. You weren’t right. There was something about you. Something about you that was unnatural.

Cregan turned away quickly and walked down the dark hall, this whistle of the air a faint sound.

…

Your teeth grazed the neck of the sleeping boy. You felt the heat radiating off his body and you could practically taste his blood. He still reeked of fear but being this close to him. His blood tastes sweet, almost too sweet or so you would imagine. There is something about these Starks, their blood holds something that they have never tasted before. You have tasted the blood of vampires, werewolves, doppelgangers, humans, and the blood of the Brotherhood five, but the closest you can imagine Cregan’s tasting like is the blood of witches. Like a sweet thick flavor with a slight burn. The burn was stronger with Stark blood. You had fed off of Bennard Stark once. Nearly ripped the man apart.

It was addicting. It ignited that animalistic urge that you now tamed by burning yourself.

You panted desperately trying to keep yourself in control and keeping your groans as quiet as possible as your skin bubbled from the heat of the fire trying to tear yourself away from Cregan’s neck.

You whimpered as your skin ripped and the blisters on your hand popped. You tore your hand away from the fire and yourself away from his neck. A deep sense of disgust began to fill your being as you stared at the peaceful sleeping figure of Cregan. You dug your nails into your palm and quickly made your way into your bedroom.

On your bedside was a piece of cloth submerged in a bowl. As you reached inside the bowl a single sounded as your skin began to burn and smoke rose. You gave another whimper as you grabbed the cloth and rung it out before balling it up and stuffing it in your mouth. You nearly scream as you feel the burning on the inside of your mouth and some of the water goes down your throat burning you from the inside.

In another bowl, there was a rope submerged in the same liquid. Undoing your dress you trembled for what was to come, you trembled from the cold, and from the burning sensation that has yet to stop.

You stood naked as tears fell from your eyes and muffled cries sounded. You grabbed the wet rope trying to bear the burning on your hand. You whipped it backwards and it struck your back and a loud singe was heard along with a muffled scream.

You whipped yourself with the vervain-laced rope and choked on the cloth that was soaked in wolf’s bane.

It was the only way. The only way to sedate this urge, this bastardy that plagued you. It was the way you were put down by your siblings. The only way disgust would not consume you. You would not stop until your back was raw until all the skin on your body was new. Shedding of the old skin for new. A new beginning.

As your skin bubbles and pops you think back to Cregan and the fear he emits anytime you look at him. Another crack of your makeshift whip sounds and once more you cry out before clamping down on the soaked cloth and wolf’s bane is squeezed out burning you. There had to be another way, another way to make him feel at ease that was not by compulsion.

Your head.

You cried into cloth and tears streamed down your cheeks mixing with the wolf’s bane. It slid down your throat and burned until your wolf’s bane tear fell on the top of your breasts, burning them.

The only thing that would possibly calm Cregan was your head, more specifically the head of your wolf form.

You felt your legs give you under you as you gave a final whip to your back. As you fell forward your temple hit the sharp end of your bedside table. You let go of the rope and grabbed your temple as your world spun and your sight went in and out. The only thing keeping you conscious was the healing of your raw back, however, both bowls spilled on top of you and you screamed as the burning liquid soaked your entire backside and for the first time in a century you passed out from the pain.

You nearly gagged from the overpowering scent of wolf’s bane and vervain. You opened your eyes and looked over to see Cregan sitting there with Ice firmly in his hand.

“What were you doing?” You heard him mumble out though your eyes only zeroed in on the light scratched on his neck from your teeth. Tearing your eyes away from his neck you looked at the boy who only kept eye contact for a couple of seconds before looking away. You heard the way his hands gripped Ice. Disgust crept onto you once more.

“I have to go home.” You sighed out looking away from Cregan. If it was your gaze he feared then you would not look. “My brother…” Though you craved to see his widened gray eyes and the slight wobble of his lips as he spoke to you. You shut your eyes. “My siblings. I need to go home for a little bit.” You bit your tongue and turned to him and he turned his gaze down towards Ice. A small sense of satisfaction filled you.

“Why?” You hear him ask. It was small and meek. You tilt your head slightly before shutting your eyes and turning your face away from him. Only then did you hear the grip on his handle on Ice lessen.

“Because…I miss them,” There was a tone change towards the end of your sentence. Almost as if you were asking a question. You simply needed to leave.

Did you miss your siblings?

You hadn’t seen Finn in over nine centuries or Kol for two. The last you had seen of Rebekah was in the twenties. Elijah and Klaus kept you on a tight leash since you couldn’t be daggered, not like Klaus would. Despite his constant badgering about telling you to keep your hunger under control, he would shove humans your way and pretend to not see when you ripped them apart. It was like when you were both little and he would give you extra pieces of bread under the table during dinner then claiming he didn’t know anything about the crumbs on the side of your face.

Elijah despised this and was constantly on you to keep clean. You were always a messy eater. When Klaus would fail to keep you under control it would be up to him to dirty himself to bathe you in Vervain, just like how he would clean up the crumbs on the side of your face so that father would not see.

Were they looking for you? Did Elijah really kill Klaus? He wouldn’t. Not even if Elijah really wanted to. If he truly killed Klaus then he would have no one. Not even you, not the way you are now. Maybe you did miss them, even if it was only a little.

“How many siblings do you have?” Once more his quiet voice sounded. Cregan was quite talkative today. It would've been great if it wasn’t for the constant waft of Wolf’s Bane and Vervain.

“Seven, though I never met my oldest sister. She died in childhood a couple of years before I was born. I do not even know her name. However, currently, I have two. Elijah and Niklaus. The rest…are gone.” You would never see your siblings again. According to your little brother —Niklaus— they were buried at sea. Maybe Elijah would kill him for that.

“What happened?” You fought the urge to look over towards Cregan, lest he turn away from you. Though as you began to think of how to explain your family and how your siblings weren’t dead but they might as well be you fought the urge to smile. This would be perfect.

“My youngest brother, Henrik was killed by wolves.” You heard Cregan perk up as you kept your eyes closed trying to keep your smile down. “My brother Niklaus took him to see wolves hunting. Unfortunately, the wolves did not capture their prey and instead mauled my brother to death.” Slowly you opened your eyes and turned to face him ever so slightly. Cregan this time did not turn away. You both stayed like that. Simply looking at each other and once more disgust plagued your body. You had nearly bitten into him last night.

“What about…your other siblings?” He whispered once more. You took in a deep breath and looked up with a bitter smile.

“My eldest brother Finn was…” How could you explain to him that your family was tired of his constant badgering? Though you never were one to mind it. Your entire family constantly berated you for your tendencies. Finn, despite his demeanor towards the rest of your family, was surprisingly more understanding of you. He made his comments to you every now and then, though he seemed to understand that you simply could not control it. Finn was the only one to never judge you or condemn you. There were times throughout the centuries when you almost successfully pulled the dagger out of Finn or simply stayed beside his body.

Klaus and Elijah would tighten your leash whenever you got too close to him.

“Put down for…crimes against my family.” You decided that was the best way to frame it and you heard the slight shift in Cregan’s posture. “My brother Kol was very…wild and it got him put down as well.” Technically they weren’t dead, but they might as well be. “Finally my little sister Rebekah…fell in love with the wrong person.” There were more people than people but he didn’t need to know that.

“Why did you leave?” So many questions he had.

“My two brothers began to fight. I stayed with Niklaus at first, but then I left for my brother Elijah. Niklaus was not happy with me but in the end forgave me…soon after,” You struggled to come up with something that would explain your presence. It’s not like you were here by choice. “I was brought here. To the North I mean and now I’d like to go home for a bit. See my brothers.”

…

It was strange not having you here. You had been gone only a week yet a crucial part of his routine was now missing.

You were missing.

In the end, Cregan had let you go. He was never planning to deny you, but it was the most he learned of you throughout your entire time here and while a part of him did feel more at ease with you gone there was a strange yearning for your return.

How strange it was.

How strange it was to have you speak to him at night and lull him to sleep with your stories only for him to never be able to recall them in the morning. How strange it was to have other maids dress him instead of you. How strange it was to never carry Ice as much as he did.

However, what was most strange was that he constantly thought of you. The fog that used to cloud his mind seemed to be gone if only for a little while.

Cregan picked at his food looking out the window into the Wolf’s wood. Suddenly his cousins burst into the dining room with blood-soaked armor. All three of them had such bright smiles. Cregan pushed his food away standing to greet them while his uncle reprimanded them for their poor manners.

“Father, look! Here cousin we brought you a gift!” Elric pulled out a red-stained gold ivory coat. A wolf’s hide. Cregan’s breath hitched and he gripped onto Ice.

“By Viserys, what is that?” His uncle swore. “You didn’t clean it!? Where is the head? Did you cut off the head?”

As his cousins explained how they caught the wolf, Cregan felt as if his ears were being plugged with cotton. All he could do was try and reclaim the breath that seemed to escape him. He felt sick. The taste of the chicken was fresh in his mouth. The white glossy meat and the waft of it nearly made him vomit.

Breath.

Even when you were gone you helped him. Your voice was clear and echoed in his head and suddenly his breath returned to him.

“Where’s the head?” His voice took on such a tone that he had never mustered before. All three of his cousins turned their attention swiftly to him and so did his uncle. In that instant, he did not feel like ‘Cregan Stark, Heir to Winterfell’ but instead like ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’

His uncle coughed and smiled. “Yes, your father wanted to mount the head in the Great Hall. A wonderful suggestion, nephew.”

“I want to see it. Bring it to me.” There it was again. The tone of ‘Lord Cregan Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.’

Breath.

Once more your voice sounded in his mind and a calm filled him. It wasn’t long before they brought the wolf’s head before him. Those amber eyes now clouded over. How did they find it? How did they kill it? What his father and his men could not do his cousins did.

Cregan reached his hand out to touch the matted coat. It was so cold. So different from the warmness that coated his hands when he first sliced into it. Cregan could not look away from the eyes. The eyes that seemed to have plagued him for the past couple of months. They didn’t seem so familiar anymore. They were just so cold. Those amber eyes he swore he saw whenever you entered a room. Those amber eyes glinted and now those same amber eyes were clouded and cold.

This head was so cold. Death is cold.

The night was cold.

Now Cregan shivers under the covers of his bed. It is so cold. Everything is so cold.

It is so different from you. You were so warm. Unnaturally warm. A warmth he craved now as he shivers under the covers of his sheets. His hands touch the soft golden fur that lies atop his bed. They sent the head away but the image of those cold amber eyes was clear in his mind. Those eyes were cold, nothing like yours. You were nothing like the cold head that sat at his table in the morning or like cold golden fur that brought him no warmth.

Every night after that night was cold. So unbelievably cold for Cregan.

For the rest of his life, Cregan swore that it was the coldest month the North had ever experienced even if no one else recalled.

So shivering he crawled out of bed roaming the halls of his keep. It was dark. He kept his hand on the warm walls of his keep. He leaned against them, relishing the warmth they brought him. This night is dark and full of terrors yet in these halls he feels warmth and light. When he breathes it is clear and refreshing. He continues to roam his warm halls. They almost brought him the warmth your hands did whenever you buttoned his shifts or when your body heat hit him whenever you would coax him into bed. He would have to light a fire in his room to keep himself warm without you.

Cregan walked to where they kept the firewood but stopped when he heard a moan. His head snapped towards the sound. His father had told him that he was reaching the age where he would soon become a man. It was not unnatural for him to creep closer to the sound. Curiosity was a good thing, right?

It came from his uncle’s room. His wife was away. The door was slightly ajar and another sweet sound came. His eyes looked through the slit in the door. There was a feminine figure moving up his eye raking her figure greedily taking in the sight. He had never seen another woman in this light. She seemed divine, almost unnaturally so. He watched as tilted her head upward and another sound came from the woman. It was almost cloying. His breath hitched when he realized who it was.

There you were pleasuring yourself on his uncle as a red bead rolled down the side of your mouth onto your breast that was cupped by his uncle’s hand. There was blood on his uncle’s chest and on yours. His eyes trailed up your naked body and asserted that the blood was not coming from you.

Cregan gave a small gasp as he saw the gaping wound from his uncle's neck, spurting out blood every couple of seconds.

He sees your head turn with disturbing speed. Cregan doesn’t remember what happened all he knows is that he awoke in his bed with a warm sticky feeling in his pants the next morning.

Were you here? Had you come back for him? He was unsure of what to do with himself. Had he dreamt of you? That would be the first. Cregan has never dreamt of anyone. Cregan was not unfamiliar with sexual acts. His cousins once brought him to a brothel outside the walls of Winterfell. He saw what he only thought was for marital duties to be performed. To think of you was new. He saw a slight tent through the covers. What was he supposed to do now? What if you came in?

Cregan waited in his bed until a bath was brought to him. He eagerly took to the bath trying to rid himself of the stickiness. He watched the maids take away his sheets and the coat of the wolf. It was to be made into a coat, one that he would wear when he would inherit Winterfell and claim the title of Warden of the North.

When he had finished washing himself the maids came and dressed him. Their hands were cold on his skin as they buttoned his shift. Flatting his attire he walked out to meet his cousins and his uncle. Uncle Bennard seemed to be in high spirits. Flashes of memories flashed before Cregan eyes and grimaced though there was no sight of any irritation on his uncle’s neck. He had been sure there was blood spilling from his uncle’s neck yet there was no sign.

Has it really been a dream? It felt so real. Your name fell from Cregan’s lips and his uncle turned to him.

“She is expected to return either today or tomorrow.” His uncle spoke. So you weren’t back yet. What a strange dream, but that’s all it was, a dream. You weren’t back yet.

“Come nephew, we have petitions to hear today.” His uncle commanded. Cregan followed closely behind his uncle along with his cousins.

When he stepped into the Great Hall the first thing he caught sight of was the preserved head of the world hung on the wall. It had been preserved in a snarling manner. The pink-brown gums are on show while the incisors and canines are on full display. The pupils of the wolf permanently dilated and now a much clearer color than what he saw the other day.

All Cregan could do was stare at the wolf throughout the meetings. He knew as the future Lord he really should pay more attention to his people, but he couldn’t take his eyes off of it. Looking at it, he doesn’t know how to explain it, but there is a sense of giddiness. He feels as if there is something good happening. Something good will happen.

The day seemed to pass, though, to Cregan, it felt like no time had passed at all. He had spent his time observing every crinkle of the snarl on the wolf’s face. It truly was a beautiful creature. For a moment Cregan wishes it had really died by his hand. Then at least he could’ve seen it in its beauty before he killed it.

It wasn’t until he was brought out by his uncle that he finally ripped his eyes away from the wolf’s head. His uncle told Cregan to mount his horse. Cregan listened while his cousins mounted theirs and his uncle prepared another horse once he finished prepping his own. All five of them rode out through the East gate to the town outside of Winterfell’s walls.

It wasn’t long before Cregan saw who the extra horse was for. There you were in a simple blue gown with linings accentuated with ivory coloring. Uncle Bennard was the first to greet you. You gladly took his hand helping you mount your horse. It had been so long since he had seen you. Sure he had dreamt about you, but to look at you, it was something else. Have you really looked like this all this time? Cregan supposes the only time he really looked at you was to see your eyes. Those eyes that held such familiarity.

How well they suited you.

The entire ride back he spent looking over towards you while his uncle took up your time and attention. Much to his surprise his cousins did not seem to mind this excessive attention put on you. Cregan is not his uncle's son yet he feels frustrated that his uncle is acting in such a way with you. One would deem it most inappropriate.

After all, you were gifted to Cregan, not Bennard. Yet here his uncle was, taking up all your time when it should instead be focused-

“Mayhaps father will let me wed her.” Cregan’s attention was immediately pulled to the conversation his eldest cousin was having with Elric and Bradon. Benjen sat proudly on his horse eyeing you as your body swayed with every step the horse took. “I am to be one of the bannermen of our dear cousin Cregan.”

“To be a bannerman you need to wed the eldest daughter of some lord Benjen.” Brandon chastised.

Is that why they didn’t mind their father acting so inappropriately with you? Benjen wanted to marry you? You seemed to be a couple of years younger than him so it wouldn’t be a bad match but Cregan would much rather have you here than wherever it is his cousin would keep you. When they finally arrived at the gates of Winterfell you turned your attention to Cregan. He gave a small smile as he quickly rode to the stables. Much to his delight, you rode after him.

Cregan quickly took you inside to show you the wolf’s head. He heard you give a sweet laugh.

“They have the wolf.” He said eagerly. Cregan eyed your reaction. He watched you rub your neck before smiling down at him. It was a smile that didn’t quite reach your eyes.

“Have you been able to sleep better?” You asked him and Cregan was unsure of how to answer. He no longer faced night terrors as he did once, but now it’s too cold to sleep. Cregan decided a simple no would suffice.

…

You gave a loud cry as you felt the sword slice into your neck. You snarled at the man. The least the idiot could do was give you a clean death. You had even stood here letting them get close enough while you feasted on the entrails of a man. Yet here you were snarling because he couldn’t get a clean cut across. You looked towards the said idiot.

Benjen Stark.

He struggled to get his sword free from your neck. Luckily for you, his two brothers came and finished the job. When you awoke you were laid naked on the snowy forest floor. You got up quickly, shivering. You could smell where they had taken your head. Much to your surprise, they had left your lower body, and from that, you regrow your head.

You walked through the forest trying to warm yourself. You smelled the air, not far from here you left yourself a little snack. You ran and found the woman you had left here, for what you assumed was hours ago, as a way to regain your strength after your head would be cut off.

Quickly you compelled the woman to take off her dress. Once she did, you hung it on a tree branch while you trailed your nails across the woman’s neck. It wasn’t long before dark veins pooled beneath your eyes and your enlarged canines protruded from your mouth as you smiled before ripping into the woman. You gripped the woman’s shoulder trying to show a little restraint. Much to your displeasure, you broke her shoulder bone and in turn caused a gush of blood to be sent your way.

You gave a sound of content as you greedily drank. Soon enough you began to feel a wave of euphoria take you, you pushed yourself closer to the woman. Close and closer you drover yourself opening your jaws as wide as you can to allow for more room. By the time you sucked her dry her head only hung on by a ligament of muscle.

You let the woman drop before whipping your mouth and putting on the woman’s clothes. Now that the boy had his wolf’s head, his fear of you shouldn’t be much of a problem anymore.

“They say the ‘realm’s delight’ has given birth to another plain-featured bastard.” You heard snickering.

Realm’s delight?

“Seems the princess shares her delight with anyone.” Another voice laughed.

A princess. How long has it been since you’ve played the games of court? Oh, ages. The last time was in 1820 you reckon. George III otherwise known as ‘Farmer George.’ No one ever writes stories of how fun it is to play with heads of monarchs. To see their descents into madness. It was simply divine to watch. Though playing with the ladies and their word games was never much fun. You had too much of a short temper. Ripped off the heads of many in court. That earned you a ‘time out’ for nearly a century by Elijah.

By the time you returned, it was clear times had changed and monarchies were going out of style. What a shame. In the end, you turn to the next best thing. Politics. Playing jump rope with lines that could start wars. It was such a surge of adrenaline.

Perhaps it’s time to head back to court, if only for a little while after your penance with Cregan. Just another…fifteen years? The average lifespan in this era is about thirty or maybe forty. Regardless, a small blip in time compared to all of eternity.

It wasn’t long before you were staring at your own head hanging on the wall. You went to rub your neck, the terrible job that Benjen had done. In any case, you had received a warning from Bennard. You had come late in the night and to say you were parched was an underestimate. Not to mention it had been oh so long since the last time you had attempted to procreate with another. It was fine, he ended up passing out mid-way. You had gotten too excited with him. A miracle you didn’t take off his head. You healed him soon enough with your blood after Cregan had come and interrupted your little rendezvous with his uncle.

You stalled off coming back for another day. You didn’t want the kid to fear you again. Not after you had given your head to him.

So for now you would hold your disgusted face and instead give Cregan a mute smile. It was in poor taste.

Once more you returned to your penance and every night once more you would prepare Cregan for his day and lay him to rest at night. He was growing. Growing fast. In the short time away it felt like he nearly doubled in size. Such a strange thing. You had only ever gotten as big as your short years of human life permitted you. You often wondered if you would’ve grown taller or how your body would age in your years. How your body would change with a pregnancy. If you developed those terrible eyebags your mother did when she was pregnant with Henrik? Such a fascinating thing to watch little ones grow.

“How were your brothers?” Cregan asked as you tended to the fireplace and he sat on a chair simply watching you before looking away. You lifted a brow. Maybe you have a little bit more work to do to get rid of that fear. Though it was a bit strange. You couldn’t feel it, you could hear the slight increase in pace within his heartbeat but not the sweet scent that humans produced when they got scared. Maybe you were almost there.

Then you considered the question. How were your brothers? Was Niklaus dead? Your only or what you assume is your only full-blooded brother (who knows if your mother had a taste of other werewolf men) was dead or did he rewrap Elijah? Probably the latter knowing just how much Elijah valued family. “They were good. My brothers are okay.”

“Were you worried for them?” Cregan asked as he leaned forward and you looked over to him. There was something your ears picked up. His voice was dropping.

“What’s the saying you Starks have?” You looked towards the growing boy and he looked back with those grey eyes.

“Winter is coming.” Cregan did not look away as he spoke.

“Winter comes in many different forms.” You looked away from him as you pulled your hand away from the fire watching the slight regeneration happen before your eyes. The regeneration was constant. You were constantly regenerating to keep your dead body from rotting, though recently your regeneration seemed less needed. How strange everything was.

You turned and walked over to him. Cregan looked away as you began to undress him, preparing him for bed. It was a routine the both of them had fallen into. Just another fifteen years.

(It would be a lot longer than fifteen)

Cregan slipped on his robe as he made his way into his bed. You picked up Ice and went to hang it up. It had been a while since Cregan had asked you to lay next to him.

“When will you see them again?” You paused in your movements. When would you see your family again? Probably never thanks to that Bennet witch. Your grip tightens on the sword as a sudden wave of anger passes you. If you were never going to see your family again you would’ve rather it been on your terms. Should you ever return you’d hunt down every last Bennet witch and everyone she’s ever met.

“I don’t know.” It was a simple but truthful answer. You didn’t know if you would see your brothers again, much less when.

“I had a brother once.” It was a slight mumble and while you really should listen to him earnestly you honestly couldn’t find it in you to care all that much. So you tuned him out as you thought about your situation. It was selfish but it was but a small moment in all of eternity. That Bennet witch. Every single one of her descendants, you’d hunt them down and throw their heads at her feet. It was always better to make a person take their own life. There was a certain art to making a person hate themselves, to no longer have a reason to live. So as Cregan spoke you thought about all the ways to make that Bennet witch rue the day she learned of your existence.

Your back faced him until he eventually found sleep. Only then did you face him again. You looked over his sleeping form. A growing boy who would one day be a man. You wonder how he would react if he one day discovered it was you who killed his father. What kind of face would he make?

The ends of your lips quipped upwards in a knowing smile. Maybe you’d tell him on his deathbed to see his face. The shock would kill him, or at least that's how it plays out in your mind. (You would never find out if it would or wouldn’t.)

You stepped out of his room only to feel arms wrap around you. Your nose twitched in irritation, though quickly soothed by a bloody wrist that was brought to your mouth. Black veins formed underneath your eyes and your vision sharpened.

“What are you?” A voice whispered but so close to your ear the man might as well have been yelling. You tore yourself away from the man’s wrist.

One moment you're in front of Cregan’s door and the next you’ve got Bennard Stark shoved against a wall away from Cregan’s chambers with a bloody smile. The amber wolf-like eyes glowed bright in the dark.

“Why don’t you take a guess…” You licked the drop of blood that fell from the side of your mouth.

“You are fast and stronger than ten men, you feast on blood yet your skin feels as if you have a constant fever…” Bennard stared into your transformed eyes then trailed his gaze to your impossibly long canines.

“There was a time when I was as cold as a dead body.”

Note: Let me know what yall think. Lemme hear them predictions.

Next I Series Masterlist

To be added on Tag list: !(•̀ᴗ•́)و ̑̑

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fangirl-docintraining · 4 months ago

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Okay trying out posting some headcannons about the Curtis gang (including Betty for my fic readers cause I’ve written 100k words and I do what I want)

So without further ado I give you: How airport traveling goes for the gang (modern AU)

Darry is peak stressed eldest child™️ at the airport. Soda and Ponyboy make fun of him for this relentlessly

However, the gang overall is absolute chaos, so his stress isn’t necessarily unwarranted

Soda is still packing 5 minutes before they’re supposed to leave for the airport and it drives Darry insane

Dally only brings a backpack. No suitcase. He brings like some random clothes and whatever he just tosses in the bag. Pretty sure he doesn’t even know what he’s packed

Darry parking the car is so much of a production for no reason, man is cursing every time he thinks he finds an open spot but it’s just a car that’s hidden

He parks in the far lot because they aren’t paying the $30 a day garage parking fee because wtf (honestly same) and they have to take the shuttle

When they actually are walking into the airport for their first plane trip with Betty coming along Two Bit takes pity and pulls her aside to warn her about Darry being a bit… high strung at the airport

They forget that she is an eldest daughter™️

They always try to fly an airline where you get a free checked bag with your ticket because these boys refuse to travel without their pocket knives and so they gotta have them in checked luggage.

The second they’re at the luggage counter and getting boarding passes Darry immediately takes all of them. He doesn’t trust a single one of them to be in charge of their own boarding pass. Betty snatches hers before he gets the chance to hold on to hers though.

The second their bags are checked behind the counter Betty turns into some insane drill Sargent and starts just marching towards security with or without them with her pink tote bag over her shoulder.

The duo that is Darry and Betty in the security line. They both are like barely holding on every time some random person holds up the line or slows things down.

Soda and Steve get in a full on wrestling match in line. They almost take Ponyboy down on accident cause he wasn’t paying attention

Speaking of Ponyboy not paying attention, his bag gets pulled by security and Darry just lets out the most long suffering sigh.

Ponyboy forgot he had a full water bottle in his bag. Everyone but Darry and Betty think it’s hilarious

Dally has to go through the metal detector like three times cause he keeps forgetting things on his person that will set it off. despite being told he’d need to take his belt off like eight times, he still didn’t the first time he tried to walk through.

Johnny somehow silently got through security five minutes before everyone else and like already has his shoes back on and everything and it just watching it all unfold

The boys all want to get food immediately after getting through security. Darry and Betty refuse to allow anyone to do so until they’ve visually confirmed that their gate does indeed exist

Two Bit disappears for like an hour and just comes back to the with a new pair of Bose headphones, an armful of snacks, and like four magazines

Steve and Soda bring a Switch and occupy themselves and most of the gang by playing games while they wait

Darry and Betty get in a full on fight because mans wants to just stand in line before they’ve even started boarding and she won’t let him. Sir you are in boarding group 4.

Eventually she says fuck it and lets him go stand there cause he gets so mad, so she simply leaves to go to Hudson news and get herself some candy.

Once boarding actually starts Darry makes them all line up early, he about pops a blood vessel because half of the guys immediately have to pee and leave for the bathroom

Betty very pointedly does not get up to come stand and wait in line with them until the group before theirs is almost done. Darry is convinced she’s gonna miss the flight despite the fact he can SEE her

Darry handing out boarding passes in this line and being like don’t you dare lose this. They have to walk approx 5 feet to the check in counter lmfao

Seats are duos as follows: Dally and Two Bit, Johnny and Pony, Soda and Steve, Darry and Betty.

Soda legit asks if they need to swap seats as they’re like in the aisle of the plane cause literally no one has seen the two of them fight this bad ever. They snap at everyone including each other over everything. Betty gets mad at how Darry puts his backpack into the overhead bin and he just softly bangs his forehead against it in exasperation

They second the they’re all sitting everyone’s convinced they’re gonna kill each other because the seats are tiny and there is no leg room or personal space

Betty simply takes the people magazine two bit bought (stole?) and opens her skittles as if she and Darry weren’t about to throttle each other thirty seconds prior

Darry passes out everyone’s snacks and then says no one speak to me for the next two hours.

Soda realized the two of them were meant to be when he looked over and saw that they both were currently glaring daggers at someone for arguing about seats and holding up the flight, they were sharing candy and just somehow sharing their mutual type A meltdown together

#dallas winston #darry curtis #johnny cade #ponyboy curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #the outsiders #two bit mathews #hopefully this reaches its target audience idk #headcanon #pls talk to me about this #I need everyone’s thoughts feelings and opinions #this is for my three homies on here who said post your headcannons and I said bet

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alienpossession · 1 year ago

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Ricky rented the canoe around 10 AM from one of the local vendor. But ever since he went away from the shorr, no one knew his whereabouts

---

The boat appeared unnoticed.

Over the course of the hour, Jared lifted his head and scanned the horizon a few times, taking a nap and earning a natural tan was very nice, but he didn't like being in the dark. He was used to being in control, looking out over the empty beach and the hazy calm sea. The eye caught on a small, barely noticeable dot, but he quickly forgot about it. Until the next look at the sea. The dot got a little bigger until it was obvious that it was a boat. There was no wind, and quietly swaying it was pulled to the shore by the current and the tide, it seemed to him that the boat was completely empty.

The third time he woke up, when the tide began to tickle his feet, noon was long gone and the sun was starting to set, he too should have gone home. He stood on the sand and stretched out, his whole body tensed, stiff muscles tensed and woke up. He yawned and looked back. The boat stuck to the sand, it was rocked by the oncoming wave, from here one could see the leg thrown on board, swaying in time with the wave.

He yawned again, thinking that the boatman had also taken a nap, but something was wrong. Why would anyone let themselves dose off in such a small vessel which could be carried away by the current?

He yawned again and walked carelessly to the boat. Inside lay the body of a tattooed blonde guy looking drained and sun-kissed from the many hours he spent under the sun. He looked drained despite there's a bag with small food and packed bottles of a bluish liquid resembling water in his tiny boat

He put two fingers on his neck and tried to feel for a pulse, barely noticeable and very weak, it was bad. Jared grabbed the tattooed guy arms and pulled him to the sand, then knelt beside him and tried to remember the resuscitation technique. He pressed his chest a few times, then breathed air into his mouth, no response, just a strange squelching in his throat. He turned the guy on his side, tried to shake out the water, a thick bluish liquid began to drip from the guy's mouth. It gathered in a puddle and did not soak into the sand. Jared barely paid attention to it, he turned the guy on his back again, he was already breathing and even opened his eyes, but immediately closed them.

"Lie still," Jared said. He turned his back on the boat, hoping to find a mobile phone in the bag, not noticing how the bluish thick liquid stretched out and crawled into the guy's mouth, his eyes turned completely blue, and his body fluttered. Soon there was nothing left on the sand but a slight bluish body, his limbs quivered and he tried to get up.

Jared dumped the entire contents of the bag into the boat, it seemed that the bag belonged to some researcher, but there was no phone in it.

Thirsty from the whole saving effort and still not finding any clue, Jared pulled out one of the water bottles, popped the lid off, and took a deep sip. Instead of water, something thick and bitter filled his throat, the bottle fell from his hands and fell on the sand. Jared doubled over and tried to burp the disgusting liquor, but it remained in his throat. He tried to breathe but stuttered, his throat blocked, he felt cold tentacles stretching in all directions and towards his head. At that moment, he was hit from behind, Jared fell to the shallow water, gasping, something did not let him breathe, and his blood began to boil as he grabbed his throat, turning paler every second went by. The body of the recently rescued tattooed guy then piled on top of him and they started to wrestle. His eyes were blue, and blue was leaking from his ears and nose. The two went on pushing each other before the tattooed guy eventually got the upper hand

The two of them eventually kissed underwater and that's when the tattooed guy's neck bulging before he unloads sticky goo right onto Jared's mouth. He then dragged Jared back to the surface and throughout the whole ordeal, the goo completely infiltrated his head and body. He was trapped, in seconds his brain was covered in slime, his body and arms were twitching. The body that dragged him then picked up the bottle from the ground and splashed even more of its contents into the back of Jared's throat. He fought for every inch of his body, but he could not help but feel how he was slowly losing control, the cold was spreading from the bottom up, the limbs were icy and blue. Slime spread over his body and Jared felt like he was drowning in it. He finally gave up when he was flooded - not by slime, but by orgasm.

His body opened its eyes and met the gaze of the man above it. One blink and their blue eyes were back to normal, their brains and memories synchronized. The feeling of being in control of two bodies was unusual, but it adjusted quickly. The guy from above extended his hand, and Jared's body immediately grabbed it and stood on the sand again. They swayed as they looked at each other, both able to communicate without words.

Both reached for the bottles in the boat, popped them open and poured the contents inside themselves, greedily gulping down the bulk of the slime. It is enough for many bodies, in the human body it could multiply uncontrollably.

Another story from a follower which I altered a bit to make it fits to the pictures I have. Hope you like it

#male possession #alien possession #alien expansion #alien transference

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cherrycocaineee · 2 years ago

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35. Joker - Safe With Me

*Warning: I’ve incorporated characters from both Gotham and Suicide Squad. Mention of Violence. Abuse. Legal Age Gap. Whatever else is considered a warning.*

Synopsis: After one of the most intense beatings she’s ever experienced by her father, Paisley runs away; only taking a pre-packed backup with her and ditching her cell. Not wanting to go to the Joker, afraid of what he’d do to her father if she did, she goes to an abandoned building instead. But being the property of the Joker means that he knows where she’s at at all times.

* Paisley’s p.o.v *

It was the worst it had ever been before; and even though it had been two hours since I had just experienced the most gruesome beating in my life, the pain was still fresh. The bruises formed almost immediately, and there were popped blood vessels in my eye coloring the white part red. My face was sticky with old tears, new ones adding to the mess as I looked at the mirror in my room. I hadn’t done anything wrong that warranted this type of outburst, in fact, it had nothing to do with me at all. Apparently, dad was going through some things at work that had him considering leaving Gotham; which I found out meant that he might lose his job if he stayed. He was so stressed out that he drank too much before coming home to take his drunken frustration out on me to make himself feel better.

I moved some of my blonde hair out of my face; dry blood had crusted into my hair from the cut that it hid. My other hand reached up and touched my busted lip, wincing as I felt the sting of how fresh it was. I tried not to look at the thousands of bruises littering my body or the sharp pain in my ribs that might indicate a broken bone. The only thing I could think of the entire time I cried and looked at my wounds was that I couldn’t do this anymore, and that I deserved better than what I was getting. So I quietly opened my closet door, listening intently to the television downstairs, then grabbed my pre-packed bag out from underneath a few extra quilts and blankets. I was never worried about dad going through my belongings, I was worried about Freddy going through my things and finding stuff that I didn’t want to have to explain to him or my dad.

I didn’t plan on taking my cell phone with me, so I made sure to block the Joker’s number and hope that when I did see him again, he’d understand. I even deleted our messages so no one could go through them when they realized I was gone. I opened my underwear drawer and pulled out a wad of cash that I had been saving up from allowances. Once I had everything that I needed, I opened my window and crawled onto the extended tree limb that normally helped me sneak back in after my nights with Mister J. As soon as my feet touched the ground, I took off down the streets as quietly and quickly as I could. I didn’t want to catch anyone’s attention. All I wanted to do was get away from this man who was no longer my father.

There really wasn’t anywhere I could go where someone didn’t recognize me; the whole city practically knew who my dad was, even the criminals knew. I’d go to the Joker later but right now, I was afraid of what he’d do once he saw me in this state. In the meantime, I dodged anyone I thought could recognize me and call home to inform my dad that I was wandering the streets of Gotham late at night. After some time, I had managed to walk my way into some abandoned building that I’d never noticed before. Glass covered every inch of the ground, mixing with the gray sand and dead grass, all of the windows were boarded up and I wondered if maybe the windows were broken on purpose when they closed down. It also could have been teenagers breaking in, similar to what I was doing. I could read the sign that was painted on the moldy bricks because it was too faded.

“God,” I mumbled, “This is definitely how people die.”

But even that was a better fate than being alive and beaten.

Taking a large breath, I made my way into the building. There were no lights on but the small cracks in the foundation allowed a few slips of moonlight to give me direction. In the distance, I could hear a small bubbling sound coming from a room. A green, illuminated light peeped underneath the door that contained it. Swallowing hard, I shuffled to the door and pushed it open; an eerie creek echoed off the empty, damp walls. Leading through the room was a high pavement of metal that looked wet like everything else in the building, however, surprisingly it wasn’t rusted. I placed my foot on the metal carefully and listened for anything that would indicate I’d fall to my doom. When I was reassured that it was safe, I started walking further into the room. Underneath the walkway were enormous vats of green, steaming liquid that I recognized easily; the only reason I knew what it was was because of the lesson we did in chemistry class. It was acid. I was quickly reminded of Harley’s beginning, how it all started for her here. Part of me always wondered if the Joker kept me around to fill in the hole Harley left, if he really cared about me at all or was he doing it all to help him then toss me to the side. I was afraid to tell him that, to see what his reaction would be. Would he hit me like my father did when he was angry? Would he just leave me? Would I ruin something that I considered perfect in its own way?

I eventually made it to the edge of the path and peered down at the rolling acid beneath me. I remembered telling Mister J that I didn’t want to end up diving into a pit of acid and becoming the new Harley, and he had been okay with it but I still wondered if that were the case. Sighing gently, I sat down and let my feet dangle over the edge. The drop looked further than it probably was, like if I was peering down at the mess beneath me from a tower. More tears slid down my cheeks and I buried my head into my hands as I started to sob uncontrollably like I had at home.

Time seemed to speed by while I sat alone, crying and wallowing in my own self pity. When I was officially cried out, I wiped all of the tears away as well as the small amount of snot bubbling at the end of my nose. I was so preoccupied that I didn’t notice the door opening or feet approaching me until I had a feeling someone was standing behind me. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up, sending a rush of fear rolling through my body. I was afraid that my dad had found me here and that I would receive more than what I’d gotten earlier. But that fear was tossed out the window when I heard the Joker’s voice.

“What do you think you’re doing?” He hissed, angry by the fact that I had blocked his number.

“I just needed some time to think,” I whispered, never making eye contact with him so he couldn’t see my face.

“You blocked my number,” his breathing was huffier, angrier, “Is that your way of telling me you’re done with me?”

That time, I couldn’t even form the words to explain myself. All of the emotions resurfaced as I began to choke on sobs again, covering my mouth to quiet them to no avail. Mister J kneeled beside me, gripping my shoulders hard and forcing me to look at him. His eyes were cold and hard, dangerous and calculating; probably all of the ways to kill me. Then they softened and relaxed when he saw the condition I was in.

“I had to leave,” I cried, “It was so much worse than…than before. And I had to block your number so he wouldn’t see I’d been speaking to you, in case he found me.”

“Why didn’t you come to me, Paisley?”

“Because I don’t want you to kill him! He’s my fa-father!”

I buried my head into the silk of his shirt, gripping the leather of his jacket while more sobs escaped. Drool started gathering onto his shirt creating a wet stain but he didn’t say anything. Instead, Mister J wrapped his strong, thick arms around me in comfort while brushing my hair with his fingers. When his fingers found the blood tangled in my hair, he froze but still kept whatever was brewing in his head to himself. Once again, I felt cried out so I pulled away, wiping away the drool and tears from my face as well as his shirt, at least the best I could.

“I sh-shouldn’t have blocked you,” I croaked, “but I didn’t know what else to…to do. I’m so tired. Drained.”

Mister J sat beside me, keeping his arm around me firmly.

“Luckily,” Mister J muttered, his voice still rough with anger, “I know exactly how to find someone when I need to.”

“How did you find me?” I asked, sniffling.

“Someone I work close to saw you walking down the street with a frightened face. I figured it was because you were scared of me finding you but now that I’m looking at you, I know that wasn’t the case.”

Mister J pulled his cell phone out of his jacket pocket and clicked around before putting the phone to his ear. I stared up at him, wondering who he was calling right now.

“Frost,” he said, answering my unspoken question, “Go to Paisley’s home and collect the rest of her things to bring back home. And take her dad too.”

My eyes widened and I tried to tell him no or anything else that would get him to leave my dad alone. When he hung up on Frost, I pushed him off of me angrily.

“I told you I didn’t want you to kill him!” I snapped.

Mister J stared at me with a large grin on his face. His silver teeth glowing in the moonlight and the green, illuminating acid. I shook my head; it felt like he wasn’t taking any of this seriously. I climbed to my feet and grabbed my pre-packed runaway kit then started to leave. Mister J was quick to his own feet and grabbed my arm to keep me from leaving.

“He hurt you and he continues to hurt you. He wants to take you away from me too, and I can’t allow that. I won’t allow that. As long as you and I are together, Paisley, you belong to me, and I won’t allow anything to happen to you like with Harley. Especially when I could have put an end to it. I listened, I didn’t go near him and I didn’t kill him like you asked but enough's enough.”

My bag slipped off my shoulder, hitting the metal with a loud thud.

“But I…what will I do?” I whispered.

“You’ll come stay with me like we’ve talked about.”

“People will come looking for me.”

“We’ll fake your own death. They’ll think you and your dad died.”

“What if I want to go out and get coffee or just for a walk or to pick something up?”

“Then you’ll go with the guards so they can watch and protect you, otherwise, you’ll be with me. You’ll be safe, Paisley.”

I wiped away the remaining tears and looked up at his icy blue eyes with my own. He was watching me, reading everything he could off my face to see if I’d agree or not. How could I say no? He’d always taken care of me before, he listened and didn’t act when he discovered my dad was beating me or that he wanted to take me out of Gotham. Mister J had never given me a reason to distrust him, even his anger and the way he acted sometimes didn’t scare me because he didn’t take his anger out on me. In fact, he treated me like a princess all the time.

I reached out and took the hand that wasn’t grabbing onto me. It was covered in tattoos and thick calluses. I led him back to where we had been sitting and pulled him down beside me. I rested my head against his shoulder and sighed. Our outer thighs touched and I kept our hands entwined with one another.

“Okay,” I said, “I’ll come stay with you. But I swear to God, if you ever lay your hands on me the way he did…”

No more words left my mouth as Mister J burst into laughter, the sound stretching across the room creating an echo.

“I’m serious,” I protested.

“I know,” he laughed, “that’s what makes it hilarious because you think I’d stoop so low as to hit someone as pretty as you.”

“You’re so unlike yourself when you’re around me.” A giggle left my own lips.

“Is that so?” He hummed.

I nodded.

And it was true too. Everyone knew how the Joker really was to people; he was a ruthless killer who had no problem manipulating his way out of any situation so he could get what he wanted. But that had never been the case with me; he had approached me, he asked me to be with him, and he continued to see me afterwards without asking for anything besides my loyalty. I didn’t even have to get him out of Arkham when he wound up in there, I just had to promise to come see him on the days I visited my mom and had to be with him once he got out. It was like our relationship was purely based on a need for someone to love him because he didn’t have that anymore. How he ended up falling in love with me was still a mystery but I knew how I fell in love with him. And I didn’t regret being in love with him. If Mister J swore he was going to take care of me and treat me the way I deserved to be treated, then I didn’t mind the darker side of him.

“Paisley,” Mister J called out.

I looked up at him and hummed in acknowledgment.

“I love you.”

It was the first time he had ever said that to me before. I smiled, nibbling on my bottom lip as I felt happiness erupt inside me.

“I love you too, Mister J.”

He climbed to his feet and held out his hand. I didn’t hesitate to take it and he easily pulled me off the metal platform. Not another word was spoken between the two of us as we left the abandoned building. And for the first time in a long time, I knew I was going to be able to sleep peacefully without the fear of being woken in the middle of the night to be punished.

It was refreshing.

Taglist: @w4nt-h1s-d1ck @leaveitbythewave @ellatitanium @gaymistakeboi @erika-solic @weepingwitchofthewest

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brrrkdslek · 1 year ago

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UM O E O

𖡎 youtube clips of ateez member, m/n that has atinys barking and rolling on the floor.

𖡎 ateez x 9th member! male! reader

𖡎 fluff, angst, idk slay???

𖡎 bullying, harassment, blood n gore(oop)

𖡎 2.8k

clip 1 — m/n standing up for ateez on variety show

ateez along with the mcs laughed at the jokes as they continued, "if i were a member of ateez, what position would suit me best?" the members looked around and whispered amongst each other before hongjoong spoke up, "i don't know, but i think you'd do great..."

everyone laughs at the captain's statement as he shrinks in embarrassment. the mc puffs out his chest, "i think i'd be able to handle m/n's position." jongho blinks in surprise, "you can handle being main vocalist and main dancer...?" the other mc retaliated, "yeah, he thinks he can! what about it!?"

you only smile, knowing how much these people underestimate your hardwork. wooyoung speaks, "but his position is very hard, m/n actually plays a huge part in our choreography too!" wooyoung nudges you, "tell them!" you giggle at wooyoung's excitement.

"okay. so, when our tracks release, let's say for our comeback song, bouncy. i would improv it once and record it, then i would mark down some move which i think would collaborate well with the song, and then i'd work out the full choreo with the choreographer-"

the mc cut you off, "i still think i'd be able to do it though! maybe even better than you!" it came out in a joke tone but you could hear the underlying saltiness the man had with you, why's he so reluctant on bullying you???

you brush through your long hair before breaking the awkward silence, "well, who's position on the team do you agree with the least and why?" the mc perked up as he spoke loudly, "i think i would be the visual." mingi had to physically hold back a snort from beside you, "i honestly don't think seonghwa should be the visual at all."

wooyoung held back a gasp as san glared at the mc from afar. yunho turned to seonghwa and he only blinked in surprise, jongho gulped as he sees your vessel popping out in your neck, the tips of your ears turning slightly red.

"hm, i see. then who do you think would be best for visuals?" mingi placed his hand in your lap, comforting you quietly as you sighed. "i think, maybe me?" the mc does some weird 'sexy' pose and the other mc applauses him while your members keep quiet.

you let out a loud laugh for a second before covering your mouth with your hand, "ah, i'm sorry!" the mc's face was blank, "what, do you think i can't be the visual!?" you look the man up and down, "are you sure you'll even make it past the audition?" 'oo's' and laughs were exchanged between your members as you and the mc only stared.

clip 2 — m/n toktoq live: response to the show

you were eating peacefully in your hotel room with your live on and singing to the atinys every now and then. "m/n, did you say that to the mc because you were mad?" you read out a question. pondering for a few seconds, you decide to answer honestly.

"yes, i was super mad, more that he insulted my members." you slurped the noodled as you spoke again, "listen, i don't mind if people insult or make fun of me. but i won't accept if anyone speaks ill of my members." you untie your bun, which had been messed up from how much you'd been moving around.

biting the hairtie between your teeth, you used your hands to fix a ponytail and spoke, "i can take any insults if it is directed to me," picking up the hairtie, you tie your hair into a bun and fixed your bangs, "but please, leave my members alone."

clip 3 — m/n going off at a saseang in the airport

you had your hood and mask on as you followed along your members in the airport. you always hated the airport since the amount of people surrounding you made you feel incredibly claustrophobic and annoyed.

you had just came back to korea from your long concert and is headed back to the company. during the trip, you felt someone poke you and turned around, "hyung..." jongho's face looks slightly paler, "are you alright, jjong?" you held onto his hand as he leaned onto your strong arm, "just a bit tired..."

you ruffled his hair, "let's get outta here as soon as possible, m'kay?" jongho nods as you kiss his head, following your other members.

as you neared the exits, the group began slowing down as more people surrounded ateez and pushed the mangers and even the members from time to time. you tsked and checked on jongho every few seconds to make sure he is still there.

you noticed a woman pulling on the hems of jongho's hoodie as you swatted her away, pulling his closer to you as you squeezed between the members. however, she came back and kept on trying to get his attention, making him incredibly uncomfortable.

you could feel jongho's hands tremble and twitch with every touch of the woman and you got increasingly angered. you even did as much as wrapping your entire arm around his waist and leaned your head on his shoulder, you know jongho likes when you do that, it made him feel relaxed and calm.

but of course the woman didn't fucking stop as san and mingi were trying their best to kindly push her off and not cause scene. you heard jongho continuously mumbled for her to get off but you weren't having any of it. you were on your last straw when she began pulling on his wrist, that's when you acted out.

you let go of jongho's hand quickly and went to the other side and shoved the woman, hard. she ended up tripping on her own feet and collapsing onto the ground. you could care less for the cameras that were capturing this moment, in fact, you wanted everyone to see.

"yah! what's wrong with you!?" the woman spoke as she fixed her hair and tried standing up, you used your feet to push her shoulder back down. "what's wrong with me? are you kidding me, lady? you had been touching jongho this entire time and you're asking me what's wrong with me?"

you let out a sarcastic laugh, "who do you think you are? did you think i wouldn't do anything cause there are cameras?" your members and managers made no move to stop you as they only watched, all silently agreeing that it is what she deserved.

you crouched down and leaned into her ear, "if there were no cameras, i would've beat your fucking face off. now get lost before i actually do that." the woman shifted away from you and scrambled to get up, running away in a hurry as she cried.

you got up and grabbed your bag before going back to jongho and holding his hand, "let's go?" he nodded as the managers lead you all to the van, the crowd becoming smaller after your sudden outburst.

as you got into the van, you never let go of jongho's hand as he leaned onto your shoulder, eyes getting heavier. "i'm sorry jjong. you must've been so scared..." he smiled, "but i wasn't." you blink in surprise, "really, why not?" he looks up at you and flashed that adorable gummy smile of his, "cause i knew you'd protect me."

clip 4 — angry m/n at kcon

you were performing as normal and was super excited for your upcoming high note part. you had a few lines before it and while you were singing, you found that your mic had disconnected or some shit, making you grumpy.

however, atinys thought you were doing a sexy concept and cheered excitedly watching you sing your part. the mic had become more and more annoying as you sang your part, proving to be useless.

during the few seconds of pause before your high note, your ripped the headset off and threw it onto the ground before hitting the high note perfectly, wowing the atinys at your impactful volume even without a mic.

clip 5 — m/n shoving paparazzis for getting too close

ateez was in america, dressed all nice for their interview with buzzfeed, and as they got off the van one by one, the members were bombarded with cameras flashing in their direction. it wouldn't have been a problem had they not been at hand's distance with the members faces.

you were the last to get off the van as one paparazzi had the audacity to shove his camera inside the van while you were getting off. so, being the good samaritan you are, you shoved the camera.

you shoved it forward so that it hit the paparazzi on his bald head, making the man scream curses at you as you walked into the building, smile never leaving your face.

clip 6 — yunho vs m/n

"yeah, and i got this last week-" "why does your hair look like that?" you turn to yunho looking pretty offended, "why does my hair look like... what?" yunho giggles, "like, like poo..." you deadpan to the camera before rolling your eyes, "why does my hair matter to you in the slightest bit?" he shrugs and bites into the dumpling.

"i dunno, i jus' think it looks better when it's down." you leaned down to slurp your noodles, "better than your crap coloured hair..." yunho's jaw drops as he tosses the wooden chopsticks on the table and stands up, "yah!"

you turn to him and look up, "why're you standing up??" he pouts, "my hair is NOT crap colour!" your forehead creases, "can you just sit down-" "at least i don't spend two hours every morning getting ready." you frown and stand up, growing more annoyed by the second.

"why're you picking a fight with me?" he rolls his eyes and cross his arms, mumbling something. "what'd you say?" looking down, yunho mumbles, "i'm not the one that throws headsets on stage..."

you had to blink a few times to process what he had said. "jeong yunho," the man stiffens and turns to you, "...what?" you stared at the man with the angry glare, making him shiver. "sit down right now and eat your food." as if on impulse, yunho's knees buckle and he plops back onto the armchair.

you side-eyed yunho for a few seconds before turning to the camera, with a large grin like you weren't just about to detached yunho's head from his body, "okay atinys, i think we have to cut the live short! have a good day!"

clip 7 — m/n noona revealed!

mingi bounced excitedly as he sat on the chair and waited for his questions, "has there been a time where your members has stood up for you?" mingi's eyes widen as he smiles, "yes!" he answers loudly.

"there was this time during a fansign when i was feeling really sick, m/n hyung noticed and tried to tell the staff but they wouldn't let me leave. i get it, cause they thought it would've been disrespectful and i told him that!

but he got so angry and only told me to take care of myself before he went back to the atinys. afterwards, he yelled and screamed at the managers!" mingi giggled, "it was really funny seeing them all just looking down like toddlers being scolded by their parents. i'm so grateful for m/n hyung!"

the other members including yourself smiles and giggled at the back as wooyoung spoke up, "you mean m/n noona?" you swatted the back of wooyoung's head as he only giggled, "that sounds so good!" mingi turned to look at wooyoung.

"right!?" "m/n noona!" jongho laughed, "m/n noona!" he leaned onto your shoulder as you only huffed, the rest of the members including hongjoong and seonghwa hyung also started calling you that.

clip 8 — fansign massacre!

it was a sunny day when ateez were in la, california for their fansign. hongjoong had asked the managers a few times for them not to do a fansign in such an area since america was a dangerous place as they could get stabbed and shot at any moment. however, the managers persisted.

the members were lined up in their seats in the order of their ages, with m/n squeezed between hongjoong and yunho. the venue was crowded with many atinys waving and screaming the member's names.

as the atinys sat in their designated seats, the fansign started. you were enthusiastic with a happy grin painting your face the entire time at all the pretty girls and boys that dressed up prettily to see you, it made your heart swell with pride.

suddenly, hongjoong leaned into your ear and whispered, "this one's sketchy, watch them closely." you blink in confusion before the next fan shifts in front of you.

you immediately get the memo as the person- you can't even tell the gender as their face was covered up with a mask and hoodie. you force a smile as you tried to bring up some conversation, "so, uh... how long have you been a fan?"

"i'm not," your eyes widen, "how long is each member?" you were shocked as it took you a second to respond, "f-five minutes." afterwards, you and the person only stared at each other before the time ran out.

you suddenly got a feeling in your gut something bad was about to happen. you were constantly turning to yunho who was on your left conversing with said person. why were they being so friendly with yunho only?

"are you alright?" the atiny asked as you brushed some sweat from your forehead and focused back on the fan, but making sure to keep an eye on yunho.

as the timer ran out, the atinys shifted seats again but the person never moved from in front of yunho. you felt your heart rate increased as the person stayed unmoving, the staff were already on high alert of this person after seonghwa's turn.

yunho's eyes widen in fear as the person abruptly pulled out a dagger and stood up, leaning forward to graze yunho. yunho leaned backwards, closing his eyes as yeosang reaching out to stop the person, everything was moving too quickly as m/n instinctively reached out.

yunho cracked his eyes open as he fell backwards onto his butt at the sight in front of him; you holding the dagger with your bare hand, gripping it so hard your veins were visible on your forearm. wooyoung almost threw up at the sight of your blood running down your arm.

everyone around you was panicked including the person as the crowd screamed and pushed around each other, but your face was stern. you stared straight into the person with half-lidded eyes, showing no sign of emotions even though your hand was burning from pain.

no one dared to move, not even the members or managers as you slowly spoke in english, "what," your eyebrows creased, "do you think you're doing?" your grip tightened as the person's grip on the handle loosened, stumbling backwards as he fell.

the staff immediately emerged from the shadows and pinned down the person, making sure to call the police. you violently threw the dagger onto the ground, making everyone jump as you wiped your bloody hand on your white tank top, eyes never leaving the attackers.

you squatted down and pulled their hoodie down, "if i see your face again," grabbing a fistful of their hair, you yanked the person so close your noses almost touched. they yelped in pain and gripped your wrist, "i'll kill you with this damn knife, got it?"

the person began to cry as you shoved their face away, grimacing as the staff dragged the person backstage. the manager came to you with first-aid and asked if you were okay. you brushed them off as you jogged to yunho, who was still sat on the ground.

you cup his cheeks in your hand as you turn his head left and right, "yun! are you okay? are you hurt?" yunho's eyes watered as his bottom lip quivered, "ah- i got blood on your cheek," you pulled your right hand away and wiped the blood with the back of your hand.

yunho stopped your movement and held onto your wrist, pulling his head into your chest as he silently sobbed, mumbling 'sorry's' and 'it's my fault's'. you kissed his head and patted his back, "no, i'm sorry i was a second too late."

#brrrkdslek 📁: oneshots #brrrkdslek 🖇️: 9th member m/n #lmao im weirdly turned on #lmk if u guys want more of this genre!!!#leave reqs!#ateez fanfic #ateez x reader #hongjoong x reader #mingi x reader #san x reader #yunho x reader #wooyoung x reader #seonghwa x reader #yeosang x reader #jongho x reader #9th member of ateez

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2demondogs · 4 months ago

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Am I Bad? | Javier/Arthur

Tags: minor injuries, drunken camp shenanigans, Javier has anger issues and Arthur is drunk as FUCK. believe it or not this is all fluff Word Count: 4.4k A/N: I don't speak Spanish so I Googled shit. Let me know if it's contextually wrong. Or just plain wrong...

Boredom has become a luxury. Arthur is glad that — too sore and tired to ride any further, too far from civilization to do much of anything meaningful — they have found themselves at a loss for busywork.

It is a heaven of its own after working his body into unraveling at the seams, it feels, for weeks on end.

Javier had taken the job of setting up camp, delivered well on his promise to make it quick. A single tent lay before the firepit he'd slapped together, piled with timber Arthur fetched meanwhile. They agreed some evenings ago, shitfaced and brazen, that one tent was more economical for many reasons, a few of which spurred Javier's hand on his thigh. Sober, neither have been ballsy enough to discuss it again.

Well, Arthur hasn't got the balls for it.

By the time noon has nestled into the clouds, he's brushed most of the grass and dirt from their New Hanover trail off of his horse. A sweet girl, who reminds him more of a cat than a horse the way she clings to him and eyes Boaz with distrust. A girl that he hasn't yet named since borrowing; certainly, she'll be lured away by another man, in the way karma reclaims all stolen goods, which renders it borrowing.

Naming her is one task he must — he is too soft to say he merely should — do, but neglecting things is a different experience when he isn't in danger of popping any of Dutch's blood vessels.

Javier is circling the firepit when he turns and stretches, lumbering over on sore legs. Watching him plunk his boney ass onto the dirt beside it, Arthur snickers at him hiking his pant legs up at the knees, the way a woman hikes her skirt when she sits.

He doesn't tease him for it anymore. The first and last time, he got asked, in the middle of camp: why, cariño, want me to be your woman? If he really meant the bite that laid behind his words or if it was a cover-up, one for whatever odd flower was growing in the dirt of their friendship — he really doesn't know.

Unable to help himself, he snickers.

"Watch yourself," Javier warns, appraising it as Arthur seats himself without grace. He scoffs. "At least I don't sit down like a withered old man."

The words are light. They've lost some of their usual rasp, as if he is speaking from a different part of his throat where the skin is not so scarred. Arthur likes this tone, has noticed him using it more often when they're alone.

Nevermind that it is the same way he speaks to Boaz, Dutch, and the occassional stray dog in town. Saved for God, wife, and animal companion, like a good man's softness should be.

The thought makes him bite down a laugh, clearing his throat awkwardly.

Afternoon comes sooner than Arthur would like.

The shit has been shot sufficiently, he supposes, if Javier's eyes unfocusing and his broken humming are anything to go by. Another effect of his scarred throat, he doesn't often hum a true hum: dah-dah, duhn, dah-dah-dah, the general beats of a song only he knows, mumbled low and quiet.

Maybe in another life, Javier is a musician. They'd both be artists, then. By chance, Arthur could do the artwork for his record slips, if the lack of guns made more time for pencils to fit in his hand.

Now there's a funny thought. Him, an artist, full-time. All professional-like. There he goes, making shit up.

In the pleasant pseudo-silence, Arthur pulls his pocket knife out to pick the grime from beneath his nails. Swiping the tip of the shortest blade beneath the discolored white of his nail, wiping the dirt off with two fingers, and then repeating. It is so second-nature, he hardly pays mind to whether they are cleaned or not and must do another pass to get them presentable.

He may or may not be wondering, as anyone would, what kind of songs Javier would do.

His fingernails need trimmed, anyways. Everything about Javier looks so purposeful, Arthur is too ashamed to chew his nails in front of him.

The man's nails bend and break, too, sure they do. First, though, they are straight-clipped; he has never felt the teeth-roughened edges of a nail-biter's hands scratching over his skin. In the company of Arthur, he only appears to chew on the hardened ridges of skin around the nailbeds.

Somehow, if his actions chafe with the pristineness Arthur sees in him, the rough things Javier does simply become pristine, too. At least as far as his body extends, the skin-deep qualities like voice and hair and cleanliness and godliness — except, of course, Javier could never fit so nicely in one little box, wiry but wily.

Arthur knows he is just making shit up once more. He hardly understands it himself, at this point, finds it difficult to admit that even when he doesn't respect what Javier does, he still— well, he supposes, likes the man. Digging himself into a tunnel system of respect, admiration, and morality is much easier than taking a crack at digging straight down into affection.

He scrapes wrong against the underneath of his nail and cringes, bringing himself from his head and into the present once more. Javier is singing softly, drumming on his thighs and watching Arthur, who had zoned out thoroughly. He glances at Javier, runs away from his eyes as quick as he ran to them.

They're too kind.

Javier stops singing. It was more of a babble, anyways, slurred and words half-skipped over. "I miss my guitar," he says, nearing solemnity. "No music out here."

Arthur raises his brows. "I got hands and feet, don't I?" He says, offers a small grin. "Just sing somethin' I know."

He chuckles, eyes unmoving as he thinks, like he'll hear music if he looks long enough at Arthur's tired old face. Sometimes, he wishes Javier would just shoot him in the head instead of staring at his damn forehead wrinkles like this.

It isn't as easy as a sing-a-long usually is.

Javier is mostly familiar with Uncle's instructions for playing various English songs: it's like this, then some godawful him-hawing that is somehow turned into notes, then it sound' happier than that, Javier, c'mon'ow. The rest of his catalogue is Spanish.

"If you listen close, I could teach you Corrido de Joaquín Murrieta," he says, and Arthur must look lost. Javier rubs his mouth, studying him. He speaks slower now, gesturing with his hand as if to lay out the letters: "Maybe La Llorona would be better. It's just a few lines."

He nods, but he can feel his eyes widen. "Sure thing. I can try."

"La Llorona," Javier repeats. It is slow, and his voice is absent of the teasing he'd surely turn on anyone else.

"La," — twisting the switchblade in his fingers in thought — "Um, juh—"

"What?" Javier cuts him off, and the taunting tone is risen. "Where did you get a juh from, vaquero?"

Arthur's face grows hot. They decide to leave the Spanish lessons for another day; he feels a little disappointed.

He likes hearing him sing in his mother tongue.

The songs of his own childhood were embedded in him later into it: bleary memories of Hosea, hair still blond and drunk as a fish, drumming to the beat on Dutch's back to irritate him as they all sang through prison song after prison song. It was most of what his father taught him, he had said once, because he spent all but three months of Hosea's youth in jail. The rest of them, Hosea learned firsthand.

By some stroke of luck, Javier knows one.

Well, the sheriff told his deputy; won't you go out and bring me Lazarus? A call to and back. Javier looks far happier than he should for such a song, stomping in time with Arthur.

Well, the sheriff tol—

"Shit!"

Blood drips from the juncture between his thumb and pointer finger, and Arthur tosses his pocket knife into the dirt as if it has teeth. Judging by the modest sized hole in his hand's webbing, it may as well.

"The Hell did you—? Dios, be more fuckin' careful," Javier hisses, raising to come to his side.

An odd type of pain blossoms from the puncture, and he cringes as he moves his thumb to allow Javier a decent look at it.

"I weren't payin' attention, blade was still out," Arthur explains. He peers at it, then shakes his head and turns away with a sneer. "There's a damn hole in me and it ain't hardly bleedin'. That ain't right."

Javier begins to say something, and then shuts his mouth around the first syllable. His fingers are careful where they splay Arthur's fingers open, touch the back of his hand. In another situation, it might even feel nice to have his skin stroked this way.

"I'll admit, it's... weird to look at."

The pad of a finger nears the opening and Arthur grimaces, partly from irritation and partly from an intrusive vision of Javier poking his finger right into the wound. It lights his nerves up, as if his body is as disgruntled by the thought as his brain is.

Oh, Jesus, that's a bad feeling.

"Why's it dark in there? Looks empty," he continues, and Javier laughs easily. "Where's the— I dunno, the muscles and shit?"

Javier retracts his touch, pats him on the head. "Shut up, chiquillo. I'll wrap it for you."

"That better not mean stupid," he gripes.

He huffs a laugh. "Nothing about your intelligence," he reassures. "Means you are a big baby." Arthur scoffs; still, he won't look at his hand. Javier approaches a snorting Boaz to rifle through his saddlebag, takes out a rag and tears a strip off. "I think it has a better ring to it."

On the larger portion of cloth, he tips water from the flask laying beside their tent. Javier works quick, but light; his hand is wrapped around the palm to let him flex it without opening the wound up for dirt and infection. It is a hard area to protect, they agree, but Arthur will survive.

He really doesn't know why it bothers him so much. His stomach ain't weak, not after the gore he's seen and caused — why's a tiny hole in his hand so freaky?

Javier settles by his side, after, and smooths a hand down the patch of forearm his rolled up sleeves exposes. It takes some of his mind off the dilemma of just what is inside his body, rubbing up on all of his bones — a horrible train of thought — to have his rough palm stroking his arm so tenderly.

"I can sing to you, instead," he offers, face relaxed again.

"I ain't on my deathbed," Arthur says.

The warmth in his face must speak for itself. Javier sings for a while, until his throat sparks up phantom pains.

It isn't the first time anyone has seen Strauss and Hosea dancing, but the pair bring Arthur to tears each time, tears of amusement. The alcohol in his system doesn't hurt, though a large dinner is absorbing his first beer, and fast.

They'd hit a gold mine — so to speak, if only — on the way home, a massive buck that Arthur's big girl could barely handle after a nasty field dressing. With its size and the money a best-cut hide could fetch, not to mention the antlers, it was worth the strain on his horse to bring it back home to Pearson and Hosea for skinning. Arthur made sure to find her a sugar cube for her hard work.

It happened to be found in Kieran's tent, but he will be too hungover in the morning to notice and Arthur, too hungover to remember his theft.

Their return didn't come without an nth retelling of Arthur's grand fish haul of yore, as Hosea called it, which made his face burn in something like shame, as it always does. Especially for Javier to hear it after teasing over his fishing skills so often; he had turned and asked if he still pays for his better catches at the market, considering...

Nor did the haul come without a party. None of the gang had seen so much meat in close to a year, let alone been able to eat any of it. Pearson said it ought to have weighed a hundred and ten pounds or more.

Javier clapped Arthur on his sore back with a toothy grin. We did good, and yes, they had, as far as Arthur was concerned. He shouldn't need to go hunting for a month.

Hallelujah.

And now Strauss is twirling Hosea around their campfire, struggling to reach over the taller man's head; Javier mindlessly strums new chords to an old song that Strauss half-remembered from Austria and taught the lot of them years ago, some leigst mir am Herzen, leigst mir im Sinn; Dutch is running his mouth to an unenthused Lenny, who seems to be trying in earnest to mumble the German words that Uncle is singing with his chest.

Arthur and Mary-Beth are vaguely following the other dancing couple, the woman quick to dodge his two boot-clad left feet to save her bare toes from crunching. What a sight those old coots make, stumbling around in a shoddy ländler and hollering every time Hosea is held like a lady would be.

A wasted Sean trades into Mary-Beth's spot followed by a shriek of laughter from the fire, and the lady joins Karen instead. Arthur is just tipsy enough to allow it.

Sean's skinny hand is clammy and dwarfed in his injured one, and both join in vaguely singing so, so, wie ich dich liebe! He can tell the Irishman is sloshed, not only by his breath and how often he accidentay kicks Arthur in the ankles, but because of how he presents his freckled cheek and batters his lashes at the end of the verse.

"You's the ugliest girl at the hoedown," Arthur grins, and can't name each man that finds the whole thing hilarious. He can name each one who finds him kissing his scruffy cheek funny, when Sean rolls his eyes and taps it: all of them laugh, a ruckus loud enough that they will be lucky to not have been ambushed by morning.

The joy hurts his face, though maybe the smile is more of a grimace after having his arms around the redhead, sniffing on that constant hay and liquor smell he carries.

He forgets it by trading for Karen's hand. She is much prettier; he gives her a kiss, too. She makes conversation on what happened to his hand, and offers a playful tut about his carelessness.

When, at last, the song changes twice over, he drops his ass to sit on a log beside a tuckering out Hosea. Rubbing the slight sheen of summer heat off of his face and accepting a beer from the old man, he swipes his gaze around the fire only to notice Javier is glaring daggers at him, fingers picking hard at the strings.

He raises his brows in a silent who, me? Dark eyes return to the neck of the acoustic, and he flubs a note as he begins the next song.

The look throws Arthur off, but he watches Javier playing, anyways. It's no safe bet: his heartrate drums a little faster whenever the man's eyes move from the frets or the body, anticipating a call-out and a what're you starin' at, queer? to save face.

Javier isn't hard to read nor please, as so many of the gang claim. If a man learns how to see his aggression and how to shut his trap appropriately, Javier tends to like him. He's knocking on the guitar body, now, introducing some percussion to the song between quick plucks of the strings.

It must be why the two of them have always gotten along so well. Hosea once told him his habit of wanting to placate others to an abnormal degree was because he was beat as a kid, but he was fifteen and...

He focuses his vision, blinks as it comes into relative sharpness again. "Hey, Hosea?"

Next to him, Hosea turns from speaking lowly to Dutch, who is crouching beside him with a cigar on his lip. He leans over to look at Arthur, too, as if he asked for both of them.

"Yes, son?"

"You remember when," — furrowing his brows, finding such a long sentence hard to string together as the last of his third beer settles into his bones — "I's a kid and you, uh... said I'm a people pleaser all 'cuz my daddy beat me?"

His brows shoot up. "Jesus," he whispers, mouth spreading in a smile that's all nerves and surprise before returning to its usual firm line. "I do. Why?"

"I want'a say 'm sorry for— uh, sayin' your daddy woulda beat you, too," Arthur apologizes, as sincerely as he can. Both of his fathers blanche. "Y'know, if he weren't locked up, he woulda..." He twirls his hand as if to demonstrate a longer explanation laying in the air before them, then scratches the back of his neck with it. "Sorry I said that t'ya. Them years ago."

Dutch grabs Hosea's arm as if to steady himself, mouth split in an amused grin. The blond sucks his lips in, and nods.

"Why, that had't've been a whole score ago," Hosea says. "Don' worry, son."

"I dunno," he says. "'S only time you ever slapped me."

Hosea's ears turn red, and he pats Arthur's bicep affectionately. "Well, I wasn't tryna be another type like your father."

"You's always like my real dad. Sorta."

He pauses, mouth opening and then closing as if he isn't sure how to respond to that drunken confession.

Dutch has sunk to his knees on the grass beside the log, leans over with an elbow on Hosea's thigh. "Say, son," he begins, tossing a thumb to Javier and speaking low. "Why don't you go back to gawkin' at your man in silence?"

It's his turn to blush. "I weren't... the fuck'chu mean," — raising his voice to match Dutch's strained tenor, cracking the words in half to piss him off — "My man, you sack of—?"

"Well," Hosea interjects, then, straightening his pants legs at the knees. He raises with a click of his joints. "Sounds like time for me to get outta here."

Hours pass, maybe two. Arthur's pissed twice counting this toilet run, downed two more beers, threw back two shots of something strong-tasting, and danced twice more. He is coming to like the number two.

Whoever gave Uncle a harmonica, however, Arthur does not like.

Sure, the man has clearly played one before, but every wandering cowboy has handled a harmonica. Someone must be able to make it sound better than this, so shrieking it's driven Arthur doubly as far away as he'd normally go to take a leak. The man who wrote this song, the one that the few remaining around the fire begin to stomp and clap to — Arthur's hand throbs, fingers fumbling at his fly — the feller who wrote my girl, my girl, in the pounds, in the pounds, so on and so forth... he must be rolling in his grave.

Javier could make the shrill cry of the harmonica sound good, he thinks idly. Teetering on wasted, fishing himself from his drawers in the darkness outside of camp's edge, he notices that the guitar stopped.

What kind of music would he play, if he were a musician?

It's a lovely thought, now. Arthur is warm with alcohol and loose enough at the shoulders to entertain the fancy without self-flagellating. He'll have to chew on what Dutch teased him for when he's sober, if he remembers it at all, but for now he thinks of Javier as his man and feels a smile gnawing at him.

Does he want him like that?

Arthur isn't sure, but he thinks it is one of those rare scenarios where neutrality speaks more volumes than both disgust and adoration. A man who was merely lonely, in the sexual sense, wouldn't be so fond of another feller's voice, or the way he struts with his gun belt clanking and yelling out how big and bad he thinks he is, or—

"There you are, Arthur."

Javier's voice makes him jump, hands flinching. How does this guy always find him?

"Just about zipped my damn pecker off," he hisses, turning over his shoulder to glare at him.

Well, he hopes it's a glare. He has a hard time expressing the right things when he's shitfaced.

And Javier is getting close, placing a hand on the back of his neck and stroking the sweat-soaked skin there, clipped nails scratching the shortest hairs at his nape. He swallows a groan.

"Enjoying the party?" He asks, as if Arthur ain't pissing right there and as if he isn't tenderly caressing him all the while.

He shakes himself, stuffs his dick back in his pants and does them up. "I'm enjoyin' the drinks," he says. "Missin' the music."

Javier chuckles. He turns Arthur easily, slots his body to his with his arms around his waist; Arthur smells vodka on his breath, remembers him taking shots alongside the handful of them who had before the bottle ran out.

That's probably why I'm hammered.

"What'chu up to, mister?" He asks lightly. Javier's face, already unclear in the night, has turned to his chest. If Arthur isn't entirely lost, he thinks the man's stomach contracts short and quick where it presses to his own. "Javier. Are you sniffin' me?"

Alright, so he's hammered, too.

He leans back. The whites of his eyes near glow, the collar of his white shirt as stark; his dark hair fades into the background, but his dark eyes don't.

They're hot. At least, their fixation makes Arthur's face feel hotter, and he doesn't care if anyone sees them embracing like this.

"You smell good, vaquero," he says simply. He runs a hand up his right side, over the underside of the arm to splay it outwards before he wraps his fingers around those of his uninjured hand in an awkward, but tight hold. "I wanna dance with you. You didn't let me, earlier."

"Never asked, did you?" Arthur asks, confused.

"No. You had that Irish hog on your hip."

He balks. "For a minute, maybe." Despite himself, he puts his arm around Javier's shoulders, big enough to encircle them. "Is that why you kept lookin' at me like I called your momma a tart?"

Javier blinks, as if he is scanning his memory for what the word means. Then, he frowns. "Sean's an asshole," he repeats, and the softer syllables slur together. "He said my dick's small."

Where a sobered Arthur would laugh at the childish hint of hurt in his voice, he merely raises his brows.

"Were he lookin' at it?" He asks, unsure where the twinge of— whatever emotion that's chafing on him comes from.

Jealousy? Something like anger?

The cackle from the other man tells him the question came out wrong. "Aye, you know how to comfort a man, vaquero," he teases, and Arthur realizes where his words went wrong.

"I didn't mean it like that," he says, and then pauses. "Not that, uh, your prick's small." Javier goes quiet, lets him flounder with a smile pulling at his lips. "I mean, it's... it's real..." — flushing, wanting to stop talking immediately, but knowing Javier will press him until he finishes his sentence — "Nice. I just didn't mean to say it, at first."

"Oh, it's only nice?" Javier rubs a hand at the small of Arthur's back, where sweat pools beneath his button-down. "I'd figure—"

"I don't wanna know what you figure," he sputters, trying to save his own dignity. "God, c'mon, didn't you wanna dance?" Arthur squeezes his hand. "Let's dance, vacay-row."

Javier snorts. "If you stop butchering my language, we'll dance all night."

"How'd you say it, then?" Arthur asks, brows knitting in genuine dismay.

Inhibitions so forgotten, he feels wholeheartedly a need to impress Javier, as if a redneck speaking Spanish with a thick accent but moderate fluency would be able to. He ought to just shut his gob after one or two beers, seal right over it with tape maybe; Arthur never seems to think of that option until he's already knee-deep in an avoidable, embarrassing situation.

To his surprise, Javier replies gently: "Vaquero."

He tries his best, with his eyes peering into his soul like this. "Va... Va-kee-row."

"Close," Javier says. He glances around, then leans up and presses his lips to the lobe of Arthur's ear. His breath reeks of vodka, and he wanders how many shots he took to lose his apprehension about camp. Normally, he wouldn't spare Arthur a handshake two miles from this place. "Vaquero."

He swallows, throat clicking. "Vaquero."

A kiss is tucked behind the corner of his jaw. "There you go," he says. "Beun chico."

"Is that an insult?" Arthur asks, but lets himself relax anyways. "Sounds like what you said yesterday.

"Sí. It is a different insult, though."

He sighs. Javier grins, wide, looks so handsome. The urge to kiss him is difficult to resist. They haven't moved at all, a realization met in tandem.

Javier moves easier than he does, already poor at these close-quarters dances and stomach flipped by how his partner is much nearer than he needs to be. It does not sync to the music from camp, whatever that might be; his ears are ringing a little, Javier's nose pressed firmly into his neck and his breath steady and slow at it. Sleep might have taken him, if he weren't moving his feet alongside Arthur's, and he wanders if he's smelling him again. He can't smell like much besides perspiration and whatever men usually stink of when they've been rotting out in the woods.

His gentleness is nice.

If Arthur shuts his mind off, he only knows of Javier's heat against him and their legs stumbling together and how his fingers clumsily work over his hand and wrist until they finally lace with his. If he comes back into his mind to tune out the sounds of camp— he can focus on the bugs and birds chirping in the evening outside, a hot summer wind rustling the leaves, the sound of their clothes rustling together. Their palms are growing clammy where they meet.

It's nice, until Javier yanks himself away. If he were a dog, his ears would be pricked; instead, he snaps his face back toward camp. He storms off with a seething: "Some rat is playing my fucking guitar."

#rdr2 fanfic #javiarthur #javier escuella #arthur morgan #javier x arthur #red dead redemption 2 #fluff #sfw #arthurmorgan #javierescuella #I wrote this with that stupid Slumber Party song on repeat

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