#he knows how to love through a violence for everything else. for fear of dropping the weapon and finding he has nothing left

[mudstoneabyss]

kind of Kevin raring to do anything if Charles asks yet not knowing how to handle what Charles wants being for him to be kind to himself...

[themindofachronicdaydreamer]

The Cat Distribution System

fluffy fluff fluff plot: you find a stray kitten and bring it home to Gojo content: alludes to smut, cats, mentions of violence (curses), established relationship, reader referred to as girlfriend word count: 3.1k satoru gojo x reader note: thank you for readingggg :) this is my first so be patient with me. it is purely self indulgent & I am still learning and trying to improve! not proofread super thoroughly so sorry for mistakes! love you <3

Of anything in the world, Gojo was certain he was cats were your favorite. 

This might be able to explain why you start smiling at your phone every time there’s a cat on it. 

This may explain your constant stream of texts to him of pictures of the most adorable cats from the internet or funny TikToks starring kittens being absolutely hilarious. 

It could explain why you constantly dragged him to places that have cats, whether it be a pet shelter or a newly popular cat cafe in the area. 

This might explain why you absolutely broke down when seeing a stray little kitten crying in an alleyway of Tokyo. 

It may explain how, in the middle of a mission, you dropped everything to go to the nearest convenience store, bought a bulk-sized pack of churu sticks to feed the lonesome kitten, and gave it all the pets it ever wanted. 

That also may explain why you just arrived back home earlier than expected - but with a cat. 

Walking into the door of yours and Gojo’s shared apartment, you shout, “I’m home!”

Gojo, who is sitting on the couch watching an old movie while eating a bag of gummy worms, is confused. It was his day off and he had been bored all day, not having you or anyone else available to bother relentlessly for his own entertainment. He had gone for a walk, tried a new restaurant, and came back home just as bored and with many more sweets. He could always sense your specific cursed energy from afar, so he knew you were nearing him before you even reached the door. While he’s in no way complaining about having more time with you, he’s still curious as to what cut the mission short. Before he could vocalize his question, you continue on. 

“Satoru! Where are you? You’ll never guess what happened. You’re a dad now!” You excitedly wonder aloud, knowing he’s home and that will catch his attention if you hadn’t already. 

Gojo is immediately confused. His mind runs a through a long list of possibilities to solve what riddle you just set in front of him. A dad? Yeah, you two may practice creating kids every now and then, but he was certain you weren’t pregnant the past nine whole months. He would know that, right? Wouldn’t it be noticeable? Not in a bad way, just in the nature of growing a human in you and the way your body would adjust to that. He’s sure you would tell him you were pregnant though, or that he would figure it out before eventual labor. Well, he knows you would tell him. You definitely would. You’ve talked about that before. So what isn’t he getting here?

“Sweetheart?” Gojo calls for you while quickly standing up and making his way toward the hallway at the entrance. He stops not too far from the couch when he hears a little squeak. 

Was that… a meow?

He doesn’t have time to think through the noise as you exit the hall and turn the corner toward him. A tiny fur ball is cradled in your arms, eyes wide in curiosity of its new surroundings. Immediately, any question in Gojo's mind was answered.

“Meet Suki!” Your face lights up as you move your arms toward your boyfriend, displaying the cat the best you can. Gojo smiles widely as he looks at your new little bundle of joy - a likely malnourished tiny kitten with a goopy right eye, dirty fur, and potentially (probably) fleas. Immediately he starts fawning over it. 

“Awwwwwwwwwe!“ Gojo said coos as he tilts his head and forms grabby hands reaching toward you and the kitten. With the sudden movement, the claws of the kitten dig into your skin a bit out of fear. She looks up at you, pupils dilated, seemingly asking for help. 

“Saturo, be slow and gentle with her, please! She’s a little nervous still,” you explain to him. The kitten was found alone and while she was not feral, it was obvious she had not had much interaction with people. Plus, when you stumbled on her, you were mid-fight. While the chances of her being able to see the curses are quite low, it felt like she could sense the tension in the surrounding atmosphere as she was cowering behind a dumpster, only coming out when she smelled the delicious churu you had in your hand.

“I’m sorry, baby. She’s just so cute!” Gojo exclaims, causing you to giggle and nod your head in agreement.

Gojo slowly and ever-so carefully reaches his hand toward Suki to allow the cat to sniff him. She recoils a bit, untrusting of the stranger. After thinking about it for a second, Suki sniffs Gojo’s hand, looking quizzically at his snowy white hair. She then turns and snuggles back into you and away from Gojo. He freezes in his position, mouth slightly agape due to the rejection. A small huh? escapes him. 

“I think she’s exhausted. She had a long day. Maybe she’ll be more comfortable after a nap,” you explain after seeing Gojo develop a pout from the rejection. You figured she was still sensitive to new people and was already tired, so you didn’t want to push her more than you already had when trying to feed her earlier. “I bought some stuff at a convenience store and stuffed it in my purse to take care of her before taking her to the vet tomorrow, so I’m gonna go run her a bath.” 

“Wait, wait!" Satoru exclaimed. He was already beginning to miss your attention being solely on him, so he prolonged talking to you and you leaving him to bathe the cat. "Let me guess - you were fighting, saw her, quickly ended the fight because you were only entertaining them to cure your boredom as the typical sorcerer does, helped her, and now you’re here?” Gojo guesses, causing you to gasp and shake your head no.

“No! That is absolutely not what happened. I saw her, immediately exorcized the curses, got her some food, and then I called Nanami to take over for me because of a ‘family emergency’,” you said while using finger quotes. You rolled your eyes in feigned annoyance as you continued, exasperated, “I wasn’t done with my mission, but I wouldn’t just leave it unfinished, Satoru! What kind of sorcerer do you think I am?” 

“Sorry, princess,” Satoru responds as he shakes his head with a chuckle. He watches as you lovingly look at the creature in your arms, mesmerized by the shape of your jaw and the soft smile on your lips. He gives your hair a quick tousle before continuing, “You’re m’favorite sorcerer. The best one out there. Other than me, of course.”

You look up at him, a faint blush spreading across your features. You gave him a disapproving look for his last comment, but the hue of your cheeks gave away the fact that you still get flustered when he compliments you. You gently push on the tips of your toes, lifting yourself up enough to lean toward your boyfriend. After a chaste kiss on his cheek, you hear a meow from your arms. Looking at the kitten, she repeats the same little sound. 

“What, you jealous?” Satoru teases the animal. “You want her attention? Can’t stand to spare a second for a kiss on my cheek?”

You let out a laugh as Suki gives Gojo what you would consider a dirty look. He picks up on it too, clicking his tongue at the kitten and again turning his attention to you. “Friendly, isn’t she?” he states, sticking his tongue out at Suki. 

“Right now, she's shy and nervous,” you answered, heading toward the guest bedroom in the apartment. You knew that at this rate if you did not leave now, you would never be giving her a bath. “I’m gonna use the guest bath.”

“Do you need help?” Gojo asked. He followed behind you, a puppy craving the attention of its owner.

“Actually, yeah. Look, I know it’s late and that this is a big ask, but I didn’t have the hands to get her more food and essentials. Can you go out for me and get some things? I’ll send you a list,” you give him pleading eyes you know never fail to make his knees weak and heart flutter. You wanted to grab these things before, but you could not bring yourself to leave the kitten alone for a second longer than she already had been for who knows how long. You were going to go later that night so as to not bother Satoru - but since he offered and you are a little tired, why not have him do it for you? A quick run to the pet store for some scratching boards, dry food, wet food, and other basics wouldn’t be the worst you’ve ever asked of him. 

“Yeah, honey, of course. Text me the list, yeah? I’ll get going now,” Satoru, your savior in flesh and bone, agrees as he flashes you a big, toothy smile, then moves to grab his keys.

“Thank you, Toru,” you say as you cuddle the kitten closer. 

Satoru smiles at the sight he knows he is going to grow to love; you looking at the kitten like she is your entire world, while he looks at you knowing you are his.

"Anything for you. I love you," Satoru says as he walks around to hug you from behind and not disturb Suki. He presses a kiss to your head, you melting into his touch.

"Alright, let me give her a bath! Stop stalling me," you say. Satoru releases you from his grasp. You turn to face him to see his face has a pout once again.

"Gimme a kiss before I go, please?" He says, then puckers his lips and leans forward.

"You're a dork," you say, but continue to lean in and kiss him. "But I love you too."

------

With Suki now bathed to the best of your ability and eating another churu stick while in a big fluffy blanket, you are beginning to wonder what is taking your boyfriend so long. The pet store is not a far walk and is an even closer drive, yet you finished the bath about an hour and a half ago.

Just on cue, you hear the front door open after a slight struggle. Suki's ears perk up, but she is too tired and invested in eating the churu that she does not even bother to glance in the direction.

You hear quick footsteps until Gojo appears from the hallway. With a big box under one arm and a couple tote bags full of things that you can't quite tell what they are, he stumbles into the kitchen. He quickly sets everything down, giving you a better sight of what all he has. You see the big box was a cat tree, and in the bags is a variety of canned food, wet food, treats, toys, tunnels, collars, more treats, multiple automatic food and water bowl sets, and a couple of outfits. This is why you never send Gojo on errands.

"Satoru, you bought way too much!" you say. You motion to the bags of stuff he put down as he walks toward you with an innocent smile on his face.

"I actually think I didn't buy enough. I figured you would want a say in some things though, so I held off. A little bit," the man in question responds. He then pulls out a little box of icing covered treats with sprinkles on them. "I even got her sweets!"

Suki - coincidentally - now decides to acknowledge her new father's presence, meowing at him from across the room in her blanket. Gojo looks over and coos as he walks over to her.

"Hi sweet girl, did you have a scary day? Do you want some delicious treats to celebrate you coming home today?" He opens the box toward the kitten, who stares at it, sniffing the aroma she finds so enticing. She then walks forward, rubs her head against the hand holding the box, and meows again. Gojo giggles as he takes the treat out of the container to help the cat.

Your heart feels like it is about to burst. Watching the two interact brings you so much joy, and with how welcoming Gojo has been ever since you spurred this on him, you could not be more excited. He takes his phone out of his pocket and takes a billion pictures of the new addition to the family.

"Tell me everything, baby. How'd you find her? How was the mission? I'm sure Nanami is pissed," Gojo says to you after he puts his phone away.

You had wanted a cat for a while, but it never seemed like the right time. With you and Gojo being jujutsu sorcerers, you had been worried about leaving a new cat alone for an extended period of time or not being able to come home to it. You had considered it once you and Gojo finally moved in, but life never seemed to give you a break, and here you are now.

Still, you did not yield even a single hesitation about leaving this kitten behind. The second you saw her, you were hers.

"Mission was easy, just annoying. Found her behind a dumpster in an alley. Nanami was only slightly irritated. I told him that it's just the cat distribution system, and that no one could deny fate," you shrug your shoulders.

"Oh yeah, like those videos you send me? Where cats just choose their new owner?" Gojo says, causing you to smile.

"You actually watch all of those?" You questioned.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I?" he says, appearing genuinely confused.

"Dunno, I just send them a lot. But yeah, you're right. The second I saw her, I had a feeling," you elaborated. "She was mine!"

Satoru thinks to the first time he saw you back at Jujutsu High on the first day there. He remembers every detail: how you did your hair that day (two braids with black bows at the ends of them), who you were with (Shoko, a childhood best friend of yours), the way you laughed (a cute little laugh, throwing your head back at Shoko's joke). He remembers time moving so slowly, he felt like he was staring at you for hours. Suguru Geto, his new friend, stared at Gojo's frozen features and sighed, waving Shoko, another new friend, over.

Gojo can recall clear as day how your hair framed your face, your eyes stared into his icey ones hidden by black shades, and how you introduced yourself to him.

He knew then that you were different. He knew you were going to be in his life for a while. You were his, and he was yours. He just had a feeling.

Who knew that one day comparing his love for you to your love for your new kitten you found, mid-fight and in a dark, Tokyo alley?

He just can't contain his giddiness toward you anymore. You were so cute, so soft, and so sweet. He wanted to dote on you and shower you in all of the love he could.

"God, baby. You are the cutest thing I have ever seen!" He exclaims as he pinches your cheeks.

"Stop, Toru," you wave him off. "I thought we were talking about Suki?"

"You were. You just distract me," he says, a hand coming up to stroke your cheek. He leaned in and placed a kiss on your forehead. "How could you not when you look so adorable?"

A little meow echoes throughout the room.

"Do not flirt with me in front of our child! She is clearly uncomfortable," You jokingly tease your beloved boyfriend.

Gojo glares at Suki, who is still eating her treats, content with her new life of luxury.

"Ugh. Way to cockblock, Suki," Saturo groans as he flashes the innocent kitten the finger

"First of many," You add, smiling. You swat at his outstretched hand, grabbing it and pulling it into you. You smile up at him, pulling his blindfold up so you can see his eyes, and giving him a loving kiss. "I love you, Toru."

"I love you more, cutie."

As much as you cats are your favorite of anything in the world, you know it is impossible to love anything more than you love Satoru Gojo. As you stare into his eyes, you know he knows that too.

Cats are a very near second place, though.

Bonus

Your phone rings with a familiar ringtone. You look down to see Megumi's contact staring back at you and press answer, lifting the phone to your ear.

Before you could even say hello, you hear, "Now why the hell did you get a cat?"

"Hello to you, too, Megumi. My day has been great, thanks!" You tease. "Yeah, yeah. Now why?"

"How do you even know? I was gonna tell you next time I saw you," you ponder, already having an idea of the answer to your question.

"Gojo posted it everywhere already. Every story. Every single one," Megumi confirmed your suspicions. "Answer my question, please? I am not the most fond of those things."

"It's the cat distribution system," Megumi hears another voice in the background say.

"The what?"

Suddenly, the phone is lifted from your hands, your boyfriend having replaced you in speaking to Megumi. "Hey, Gumi!"

"Gojo? I said not to call me that," Megumi groans, although you know he doesn't really mind the nickname.

"The cat distribution system is a phenomenon where stray cats choose a random owner, and the new owner must take care of the cat because simply, the cat decides it will!" Gojo explains. "Isn't that cool? My Suki-bear was all alone and my lovely girlfriend here brought her to the safety of our humble abode."

Megumi is silent for a moment before huffing, "There is no way you actually believe that."

A mischievous smirk appears on Gojo's face as he says "Megumi, are you afraid of cats?"

Megumi began stuttering nonstop as he said, "N-No, I... I just... I don't like them. Um. I... I'm allergic?" Gojo laughs at this response, causing Megumi to scoff. "Whatever."

The line goes silent, and Gojo hands you the phone. He looks at your irritated expression with an unwavering smile.

Before you could say anything, a little meow is heard, causing Gojo to laugh before saying, "Right, Suki? What a loser! Who wouldn't love you?"

-----

the ending isnt my fave but i hope you enjoyeeddddd thank you for reading all this way ilyyyyyy

[soaked4mk]

It’s still me // Love sick! (Mk1) Johnny Cage x Reader

⚠️: Slight Violence/blood, Possessiveness?, Manipulation, Dub Con finger fucking, Man-handling.

👽: this has been in my drafts for a minute. Sorry I haven’t been writing a lot lately. Im finally done moving into my new HOMEE so I’m hopefully going to try to get more requests done// (not proof read)

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★ “Johnny! Oh my god— what the fuck did you do!?” You don’t even know how you ended up in this position, you were just trying to surprise your boyfriend with a new piece of jewelry. Dropping the small gift box, Looking down at the ground, trembling at the sight of your boyfriend who held this man by his hair, motionless on the floor. Blood leaking from his head and into the pool. You wretch at the sight, and turn away, holding your hand up to your mouth in attempt to keep the vomit that threatened to escape your body. “No!— no! You weren’t supposed to see this honey…”

★ Johnny immediately drops the man’s head, a thud followed as he did so. “Wait—wait, WAIT!” His strong hand grips your shoulder, forcing you to face the towering man before you. Eyes dilated, pin pointing his gaze through your own. “Baby, let me explain !” His voice trembled a bit, the adrenaline still pumping through his veins. “God fucking DAMN IT!” Cursing, running his bloodied fingers through his hair, he huffs.

★ Shaking your head, and taking a step back, you cause the man to frown. “J-Johnny…” you shakily choke out, completely shocked at the scene playing out in front of you. If you hadn’t just seen it with your own eyes, you wouldn’t have believed it. “Baby, he was an obstacle, I had to get that bastard taken care of.” he steps closer, backing you into a wall. “Please, understand, doll.” his voice cracked.

★ “Understand what!? Jesus, Johnny… you’ve killed a man!” “I’ve killed men.” He corrected, taking another step, causing your back to finally touch the wall. your blood ran cold as he approached you. “I’ve killed men for you.” He grabs both of your shoulders, pining you against the wall, lightly tracing his thumbs along your collarbones. Your eyes dart to the dead man behind him, before glancing towards the door. He sees your distracted face and tightens his grip.

★“I did this for you— everything I’ve ever done has been for you, Y/N… how the fuck do you not see that.” He looks back at the dead man, who was bleeding out into his pool. Face most likely unrecognizable, from having his head repeatedly bashed into the marble floor. “I mean…” He chuckled, half-shrugging before looking back at you “who else would do this for you?” You’re speechless, heart buzzing in your ears, your internal monologue was screaming at you to escape, run, to get the fuck out of here.

★ But you were frozen with fear. Feet rooted in place. After just witnessing what this man was capable of, you knew that there was no way in Hell you’d have a fair chance. Your throat went dry, and tears stung your eyes as you went mute. A chuckle rumbles through his chest again, snapping his fingers in your face. “I asked you a fucking question.”

★ Even if you wanted to, you couldn’t get a word out. Your chest was tight and you were visibly shaken, a tear rolled down your cheek. For some odd reason this made Johnny quickly switch his tone “Right, right…” Johnny took a deep breath, before releasing you. Rubbing his temples, staring at you and contemplating god knows what. He paces around for a moment as you stay in place, watching his sanity crack little by little. “Baby, I’m sorry, please—“ he laughed lightly “come on, you know me, you know I would never hurt you right…?” He asked, bringing his hand up to caress your face.

★ Flinching in return, Johnny winces at the sight, retracting his hand. You didn’t know. For the first time ever, you felt unsafe with your boyfriend. Saying nothing, your thoughts flooded your head, overlapping with questions and aching for answers.

★ The Johnny you knew was witty, funny, corny and sweet. The Johnny you knew could fight, sure…but kill? What were the signs…were there any? If so, when? Could you have prevented this? Or was he always the man standing before you, finally mask off. This thought process was cut short as Johnny sighed inwardly.

★ “Do you still love me…?” He asked genuinely, holding both of your hands in his. This caused your heart to drop. Did you..? How could you? He killed a man in cold blood. As much as you wanted to scream at him ‘no! I could never love a murderer!’ Your mouth wouldn’t let you. Your body rejected the thought of falling out of love with Johnny. So you stand there, eyes glancing at the body behind him before darting back to his gaze. Swallowing hard, you reply.

★ “I…I don’t even know who you are anymore…” Johnny frowned at your answer, leaning in, he started to gently kiss your neck. “It’s still me, sweetheart…” he cooed, nuzzling into the crook. Causing a shiver to run down your spine. “You know I only did it to protect you, right baby?” He continued, as he began to leave small marks on your neck. You let out a small whimper, internally cursing your bodies reaction to his touch.

★ “N-no...” you weakly attempt to push him away. Causing him to panic slightly. “Baby, please— before he could finish, you booked it. Johnny saw this, and grabbed your wrist with little to no effort, harshly throwing you to the ground. “You knew that wouldn’t work…” he scolded softly, walking passed you, lifting the feet up of the dead man. Dragging him further from the pool. “This guy,” Johnny suddenly switched conversation “you know, he had the fucking gaul to snap those pictures when you had that wardrobe malfunction?”

★ He asked, dropping the man’s feet carelessly. It was scary how quick he could switch from sweet to hostile—so casually…“And then he went on to send them to TMZ! out of all the fucking shit talkers.” He shook his head in disgust, kicking the dead body before approaching you again.

★ He helped you up, yanking you off of the ground by your arm. “Kitty, you weren’t even supposed to be here until,” he checked his watch. “Thirty minutes from now…” he looked at you with question. “I…I just wanted to surprise you.” You dryly replied, averting your gaze from his, your eyes land on the gift box on the floor.

★ Johnny smiles, his eyes softening at your answer. “Oh, sweetheart…” he shook his head a bit. “This is why I love you. You’re so thoughtful…” Johnny looked over his shoulder, peeking at the body “So good…” turning his gaze back to you, he guided you to the couch.

★ “Stay.” He simply commanded , as he went to continue dragging the body out of sight. You heard an audible thud before Johnny came back into the living room, scoffing at the sight of his bloodied pool. “I’m gonna need to completely drain and bleach this fucking thing…” Shaking his head, he walked back towards the couch, tucking a strand of hair out of your face.

★ Giving you the time to notice his bloodied and bruised knuckles. A part of you wanted to mend his wounds—contrast to your shocked state. But another part of you felt that as enabling the psychotic behavior. “You never answered me.” He snapped you back into reality, looming over you, as you’re back pressed into the soft couch cushion. “I-w-wha—

★ “Do you still love me, Y/N.” He gripped your cheeks with one hand, forcing you to look at him, making you yelp. “Y-yes!” You cry out, ripping your chin from his grip, you look away, and begin to sob. Letting the reality of the situation finally sink in. Before you could fully grasp your position however, Johnny smashed his lips against your own.

★ You melt into his touch, as it still feels familiar…warm and welcoming. Your common sense is thrown out the window as he holds the back of your neck, deepening the kiss, you run your fingers through his hair, tears spilling from your eyes, out of shame or maybe even guilt. Either way, your mind was convoluted.

★ Johnny smiled into the kiss, seeing you fight the devil and angel that were perked up on your shoulders. He knew he was mind fucking you, but he didn’t care, just as long as you stayed with him. “I’m the only person in this world, that knows your body better than you do.” he purred into your ear, laying you down onto the couch. “I’m the only one that can make you laugh…” he continued “who can get you so mad, you cry. Only I can make you scream…make you cum.”

★ Your heart is racing as you feel the hairs on your skin raise. A twinge of arousal shoots through your body, His breath was hot against your ear and he shifted more of his weight onto you. slotting a leg between your thighs, he felt the heat radiating from between them.

★ “You’re soaked…” he teased, condescendingly. “Only for me, huh?” He finished his point from earlier, aggressively pulling at your bottoms, before slipping his hand in, he began to play with your clit. Causing you to arch your back, and let out a moan.

★ “Johnny— stop!” You whimper, face flushed as your body reacts to his touch. “Stop? Stop what? This?” He asked knowingly, before burying his middle finger into you, feeling the cold silver of his ring on your heated skin, goosebumps begin to rise. His motion begins to quicken, in a matter of no time he inserts a second finger. Probing your cunt vigorously with a shit eating smirk. “That’s right~” he hums, attacking your neck with rough kisses and love bites. fucking you onto his digits, curling them just right as his thumb encircles your clit.

★ “Aha-f—fuck!” You moan out, throwing your head back as he continues his relentless assault on your soaked core. A guilty pleasure seeps into your body, relishing in the sick fact your lover would go to such extreme lengths for you…

★ Your brain was polluted with sweetened words. And his reasoning behind this whole incident suddenly seemed valid. “I love you.” Johnny says, his voice gruff. “Say it back.” He ordered, picking up the pace of his fingers. “I-I love you~” you whine out, feeling that familiar build up inside.

★ Your body trembles as you let out an exasperated breath. Johnny entrapped your mouth into another fiery kiss, repeating how much he loves you, thanking you for being so understanding about the ‘little bump in the road’. Your mind is blank as your hips buck, grinding against his ministrations, you let out small moans and whimpers. Feeling your self edging closer and closer.

★ He felt your walls tighten around his fingers, egging you on to cum. “come on, cum for me, cum for me baby~” With his encouragement, you were quick to release on his hand. Soaking it in the process. Your chest was heaving as you tried to catch your breath. Blinded by the high of your orgasm. Johnny trailed light kisses on your neck, infatuated with your flushed expression.

★ “Don’t even worry about this… I’ll have it taken care of, and everything’s gonna be just fine.” He tried to convince you through his loving kisses. Causing your breath to hitch in your throat, contemplating his words, you stifled a whimper as he nipped a sweet spot on your neck.

★“Please baby, please. Just trust me, I promise you’ll never see anything like it again…” Johnny whispers sweet nothings into your ear, keeping his fingers inside of you, harshly pumping them, unrelenting and overstimulating you. He wasn’t satisfied- not until you gave in completely.

★ “Fuck—okay—okay!” you blurt out, cunt feeling numb, begging him to please stop. “I-I trust you…just—please—“ He pulls his fingers from your dripping pussy, nerves buzzing through your entire body from the assertiveness of his actions. the corners of his mouth curl up into that familiar grin. Bringing his coated digits to his mouth, licking them clean, humming and savoring your taste. “Good girl.”

★ “Now how about you get your pretty little ass in the shower? I’ll get this all cleaned up, alright?” He asks, brushing your hair from your face, pressing his lips to your forehead before standing up from the couch. You simply nod before getting off of the couch yourself. Feeling a playful swat on your ass as you make your way to the shower. Thought process and morals tainted by lust.

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[ashcal99]

Collarbones : Jasper Whitlock Hale VIII

Chapter Eight

"I can see your collarbones and baby I'm scared, Never thought I'd be so unprepared"

Summary: Camila Johnson was only 16 when she was diagnosed with leukemia. By the time she had turned 17, the doctors had tried everything to save her. Her family is close to giving up hope when they hear of a doctor who may be able to help her. The only problem is, he lives on the opposite side of the country. The small family soon decides to move to the small town in Washington, in efforts to prolong her life. In doing so, her life changes forever.

Warnings: Eventual smut (18+ only), mentions of death, depression, violence, descriptions of disease and weight loss, general angst, slow burn, blood

Words: 8k

A/N: Please lmk if you'd like to be added to the tag list. I'm backkkkk. Hope you enjoy x

Soundtrack

Previous Chapter

Series Masterlist

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February 6th, 2005

Camila’s Sunday had been a fairly uneventful day, having spent the majority of it on the couch with her mother. The two had spent their afternoon watching some of the movies they had recently unpacked from the move. Camila had been happy to spend some much needed quality time with her mother and even happier to spend that time avoiding the topic that had been weighing on the family heavily for the past week. In reality, she didn’t actually know how many more good days with her mother she was going to get by the end of all of this, and she wanted to cherish whatever time she had left. 

Her mother had just popped in the second tape for the movie Titanic when her father arrived home, arms full with two large pizza boxes as he dropped his things by the door. Camila’s face blossomed into a bright smile. Regardless of her dwindling appetite, pizza would always be her favorite and she couldn’t have thought of a more ideal evening with her parents. So the family sat together, watching as the movie’s plot took a rather unfortunate turn for disaster, eating their greasy pizza off of paper plates. 

Of course, in the end, as it always happened, no matter how much Camila had hoped for a different outcome, the lovely Jack Dawson had frozen to death holding the hand of his lover and she was left to wonder if she would end up leaving Jasper in a similar state of despair when her time was up. Deep down she knew that his offer of eternity in his arms was growing more and more tempting and the likelihood of her ever leaving his side was dwindling as the days passed by. Her feelings for him were growing day by day as well and she was well past the point of no return she feared. 

Being in love was a scary and vulnerable thing as it was, but given everything else about her situation, it was nothing less than terrifying, albeit a good kind of terrifying. Her thoughts had become an endless cycle of him, and she knew she was done for. The idea of being in love so quickly would’ve made her scoff and roll her eyes previously, but now that she found herself very much in love with Jasper, she knew that what she had once thought was impossible was the truth. 

The feelings she held in her heart for Jasper triumphed any idea of love she had previously held. She had never been one to believe in the foolish idea of love at first sight, but as she looked back at the moment she had met him she couldn’t imagine anything closer to describe it as. She knew that if she already felt this strongly for him, that her feelings would only grow to an incomprehensible intensity with time.

It was after the sun had set when he had come knocking on her window, giving the glass a light tap with his knuckles as a warning before he entered through the opening into her bedroom. She had given him a small tired smile, gesturing for him to join her on the bed. He moved forward, sinking into his usual spot as she took hers with her head on his chest, letting out a sigh of contentment. 

“How was the game?” She asked, bringing her hand up to lay on the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

Jasper smiled, wrapping an arm around her protectively. “It was good, Patriots won.” He said simply, knowing she was just being polite in asking, having no interest in the game herself. 

In all truth, he hadn’t spent much of his time actually paying attention to the sport, his thoughts being rather caught up on the girl who was currently curled up against him. He tried his best to show interest as he knew that Emmet had been looking forward to it, but he couldn’t help but be disappointed at his past self for promising to spend the day away from Camila. Of course, at the time he had no idea that he would be missing school the two days that followed, which had definitely added to the torture. Torture that was given brief recesses by his nightly visits. 

“That’s good, I’m glad you enjoyed it…” She said, trailing off into a yawn, covering her mouth with her palm. “I’m sorry, I promise you’re not boring me, I’m just so exhausted.” She explained, slightly disappointed in herself as she had been looking forward to seeing him all day and knew that his presence would be missed at school the next morning. 

He sighed, running his fingers delicately along her spine, raising goosebumps to the surface of her skin. “You don’t need to apologize Darlin’, sleep.” He said, laying a kiss on her head as he breathed in the comforting scent of her. 

“You won’t be bored?” She asked, looking up at him through her lashes as she attempted to fight the sleep off. 

Jasper smiled lightly. “Is it creepy if I said that I actually enjoy watching you sleep?” He asked, arching a curious brow at her. 

Camila snickered softly. “A little bit.” She admitted cheekily. 

Jasper’s chest shook with a slight chuckle at her bluntness. “I can’t help it, you just look so peaceful.” He explained, giving her a bright smile, teeth shining in the moonlight. 

Camila lifted her head slightly, getting a better look of the beautiful smile he had been graciously sharing with her. “Do you ever miss being able to sleep?” She asked, curiosity coursing through her. 

He looked up in though for a moment, eyes coming back, meeting her own as he gave his answer. “Sometimes. It’s been so long, so I don’t really know what I’m missing out on I suppose.” He admitted, his cool fingers lifting to brush the hair from her face. He leaned forwards slightly, pressing his lips lightly to hers in a soft kiss, breaking away with a grin as he listened to her heart rate pick up from the touch. “Stop stalling, sleep.” He urged. 

Camila groaned, rolling her eyes playfully as she lowered her head back to his chest. “Fine.” She muttered, letting her eyes flutter closed. 

Jasper’s eyes lingered on her sleeping frame as he concentrated on the beating of her heart. Her tank top hung loosely on her frail shoulders, her chest slowly rising and falling as she sucked in the deep breaths of sleep. 

The burn in his throat persisted, Camila’s parents’ blood pumping heavily through their veins in such close proximity. Although he knew that his thirst hadn’t wavered, being so near the humans had grown easier to manage over time. Easier to let his mind wander on thoughts of Camila rather than thoughts of bloodlust. It was times like these that he missed being able to sleep, wanting nothing more than to hold her in his arms and be able to dream of her. 

So, instead he spent this time day dreaming of her. Day dreaming of the future they may one day have with each other. Thoughts of being able to not only drape his arm around her body, but truly hold her. He knew that he was getting carried away, but he couldn’t help it. He couldn’t help it that when he pictured his future, she was always there at his side, or rather she was there in the forefront, his future itself.

——————

February 7th, 2005

Camila awoke in the morning to her mother gently shaking her. Vaguely, she remembered, a half asleep goodbye from Jasper, followed by a soft peck to her forehead that must have happened only minutes before. A frown settled on her face, not yet mentally prepared to face the day without her favorite person by her side. She knew she would see him later, that much he had assured her, but that didn’t stop her from dreading spending the next two school days without him in attendance. 

She was however, looking forward to seeing Angela once more, slightly giddy at the fact that she would be able to tell her that Jasper was now officially her boyfriend. She had refrained from telling her mother of this, knowing that it would only raise questions, besides, her mother knew her too well, and the last thing she really needed was a confirmation. 

So she had begrudgingly pulled herself out of bed and into the shower. The cool stream of water stifled the heat of her skin as the stream ran down her spine. Gravity weighed down on her bones, a deep ache radiating through her body. She would be sure to take her meds today, knowing that the pain would only intensify as the hours went on. Although she hated to rely on the pills, she knew that it was necessary, especially given the fact that Jasper would not be there to help distract her. 

The ride to Forks High School was rather quiet, the air around her and her mother filled with soft crunching of Camila’s protein bar. She forced herself to swallow the unsavory food, knowing that she needed the nutrients, regardless of how much she hated the aftertaste. When the van finally came to a stop in front of the dreary building. She quickly stuffed the remainder of her breakfast in her mouth, grabbing her bottle of water as she mumbled something resembling a goodbye to her mother, giving a quick side hug to the woman. 

The fluorescent lit hallways were filled with cheerful chatter, no doubt a side effect of the irregularly sunny day. The ring of the bell rang shrilly signaling the time for first period, and she was surprisingly happy to sit down in the class. The teacher quickly gave them work to do in pairs and she was thankful to be able to speak to the girl without risking getting in trouble for talking in class. 

“Soooo…” She drew out dramatically, gaining the attention of the girl sitting next to her. Angela looked to her, eyes peering over the rim of her glasses quizzically. “Jasper may or may not officially be my boyfriend now.” She informed, watching as a giant smile formed on the girl’s lips in response. 

“Oh my god. I knew it!” She squealed in delight, teeth shining in the fluorescent lighting. “Tell me more, I’m begging.” She said, dramatically clutching her hands together as she pushed her bottom lip out in a pout. 

Camila smiled lightly, a bright blush covering her cheeks as she thought of what to tell the girl that wouldn’t give too much away. “I met his parents this weekend.” She said, opting to add Carlisle in on the meeting as she shouldn’t have had any reason to have met him previously.

Angela’s eyes widened dramatically. “Woah, that’s kinda serious, huh?” She asked, wiggling her eyebrows playfully. 

The heat burned red hot on her face as Camila looked down at the workbook in front of her bashfully. “Kinda, yeah.” She muttered, smile unwavering from her lips. 

“So they’re ridiculously attractive too, right?” Angela asked, nudging the girl’s shoulder. 

Camila snickered lightly. “Of course.” She admitted. 

Angela perked up in her seat. “So, does this mean that he’s going to take you to prom now?” She asked expectantly, grinning from ear to ear. 

Camila’s smile dropped slightly, forcing herself to not let it falter completely. “No.” She said simply, watching as Angela gave an indignant pout. “We already had plans to spend time with each other, and I’m not much of a prom kind of girl I guess.” She explained feebly, hoping the girl would except her answer without much fuss.

Angela sighed disappointedly. “Fine.” She grumbled.

“But don’t worry.” Camila chirped. “I promise to help find the best dress for you.” She said, smiling brightly. Angela’s lips quirked up in answer, happy to hear the words, and conversation quickly changed topic to getting their work done, neither of the two wanting to have to take the work home to do that night instead. 

——————

Jasper’s day had drug on at a ridiculously slow pace, the absence of Camila glaringly obvious as he attempted feebly to read one of the books off of his shelves. His eyes scanned the pages, knowing deep down that it was of no use. He wasn’t actually absorbing any of the information, as his mind was clearly elsewhere. He wondered, as he recalled the time before he had met Camila, which in reality had only been a short time ago, how he had occupied his time like this. It now all seemed so monotonous, the same books over and over again, growing bored quickly of them, regardless of how much he had previously cared for the stories. He knew them all by heart by now and he made a mental note to try and get some new book recommendations later from Camila.

Once again, his mind had quickly returned to thoughts of the girl. Shocker. How was he expected to have to do this whole thing again just a day later. It was already torture enough as it was. At least, he reminded himself, that he would have the night that he would be able to see her, even if it was just to be in her company as she slept. It surprised him that such a thing didn’t bore him, although he did understand the appeal. The feel of her warm skin against his own cool body, the steady beat of her heart in his ears, everything was a reminder that, at least for now, she was alive and with him. While at the moment, being away from her felt like nothing but a waste of their time. 

Jasper looked over to the clock on the wall for what had to be the thousandth time that day. She would be leaving school now, just that much closer to when he would be able to see her. He would have to wait until the sun set of course. His family were supposed to be out of town camping, so he knew he couldn’t risk anybody seeing him, regardless of if he were to be seen in direct sunlight or not. 

It was days like this that made him question the humans in the town’s intelligence, them all seeming to except their rather lousy excuse for missing school fairly easily. Perhaps it had to do with the fact that most people viewed them as outcasts already, but really, what parent would agree to pull their kids out from school just because it happened to be a sunny day? He supposed he should be grateful for their ignorance, but at the moment, all he could do was stare impatiently at the pages of his book, willing time to somehow go by faster. 

After an agonizing wait in which felt like eternity, the sun had finally set, and in a blink of an eye, he had fled the glass house, determined to make this the fastest run of his life. As the small pale yellow house came into view, he felt like he could breath again. In truth, he hadn’t noticed the weight on his chest until it had lifted. Unlike their usual routine, when Jasper rounded the corner, he could see her, sitting at the open window, gazing out at the night sky. When her eyes finally met his own, a small smile spread across her face.

“I got overheated.” She explained, stepping back from the open window to allow him inside. It was the truth, one of the many side effects of her illness had caused her to have hot flashes and she had awoken in a particularly bad one at that, but she would be lying if she had said it was the only reason she had been staring out into the wilderness that night. She hadn’t realized just how difficult it would be for her to miss Jasper’s company that day, having already had a drastically decreased amount of time with him that weekend, and she had been counting down the minutes until sunset. 

Jasper smiled, pulling her into his cool chest, knowing that the temperature difference would help sooth her without the risk of catching a cold from the chilled February night air. Her face nuzzled into the icy fabric of his clothing, sighing as she allowed herself the comfort of his embrace. All too soon, Jasper parted ways, only to shut the window and drag her to her bed to get comfortable, pulling her back into himself. 

“How was school?” He asked, muttering the words into her hair as he rested his head atop hers. 

She groaned out a dramatic sound. “Horrible.” She said bluntly, earning a laugh from the golden haired vampire. 

He rolled his eyes playfully at her words. “It couldn’t have been that bad, could it?” He asked. 

Camila lifted her body, coming to a seat next to him as he wrapped his arm securely around her waist. “Yes actually.” She stated matter of factly. She thought for a moment, looking for the right words that wouldn’t make it seem like his absence alone had completely ruined her day. “It was nice to see Angela and Bella, but Tyler wouldn’t leave me alone.” She groaned out. 

Camila had been lucky to avoid Tyler for the most part, but unfortunately, he had of course taken notice of Jasper’s absence and had decided that it was the best time to try and be friends again. Much to her annoyance, he had talked her ear off during lunch and only continued to do so on their way to biology class. All of the talking had created a particularly horrible headache behind her brow and she begged whatever higher power there was that he would shut up for once in his life. 

She internally scolded herself for being continuously friendly to him, but realistically, it wasn’t like she could just turn around and be an ass to him when he hadn’t actually done anything wrong since he had apologized. Unfortunately for herself, she had convinced herself to be as kind as possible to everybody unless given a reason not to be. The reality of it was that she didn’t have the time nor energy to be unkind, something the she was starting to question was showing to be true in this case.

By the time their calculous class came around, she was for once happy to have silence. Although she would have much preferred to have Jasper’s company, she was glad to have peace and quiet for the first time that day. She had never been so thankful that they had assigned seats and Tyler was stuck far away from her, finally giving her space to breath. Her head had continued to pound relentlessly as she counted down the minutes until she would be able to return home, take her meds, and sleep off the migraine. A sleep that she had just recently woken from.

Tyler. The boys name had caused Jasper’s body to stiffen. He knew it wasn’t his right to be bothered by him, but in all truth he couldn’t stand the boy. Maybe it was mostly jealousy, but he had jus rubbed him the wrong way from the beginning. “He wouldn’t shut up, and I’m not trying to be rude, but we aren’t even really friends and he was giving me a headache.” She admitted, a grimace casted on her face. 

Jasper laughed lightly, relieved that the boy hadn’t gone and upset her with his words yet again. “Only one more day, and we’ll be back. I promise to scare him off.” He joked, a smirk unwavering on his lips. 

Camila threw her head back in a groan as she pouted her lips childishly, Jasper desperately wanting to kiss the pout away. “I don’t know if I’ll make it.” She said dramatically.

Jasper leaned forwards, bringing his lips to hers, deciding to not hold back any longer as he gave her a light kiss upon her lips. She smiled into his touch, the playful pout melting instantly as she molded her mouth to his. He pulled away, not allowing the kiss to last too long. He gave her a sheepish smile before speaking. “If it makes you feel any better, I was almost bored to death without you.” He admitted. 

Camila smiled lightly, glad to know that the ‘torture’ was not one sided. One more day and he would be back, she could do it, right? “I’m almost tempted to skip tomorrow.” She admitted. “But I promised Angela that I would go prom dress shopping with her in Port Angeles after school, so I can’t really act sick for half the day very easily.” She continued. 

Jasper quirked an eyebrow at his girlfriend. “Are we going to prom?” He asked confused. He had been sure the event had been off of the table given her physical limitations, but now he wasn’t so sure. Perhaps she had changed her mind now that they were dating. Maybe it was him who dropped the ball when he hadn’t asked to make sure his theory was correct.

She shook her head. “No, defiantly not. Even if I could go, I don’t think I’d want to. I’d rather just spend time alone with you.” She admitted, allowing Jasper to let out an internal sigh of relief. “I just promised to help her find a dress is all.” She said. 

He nodded his head in understanding, ignoring the lump in his throat. He wasn’t sure why, but for some reason, the idea of her being out in the city without him made a chill go up his spine, even if the reality of it was impossible. Realistically what could go wrong? She would be out with friends and she would be able to sit the majority of the time. Regardless, he couldn’t shake the feeling of something bad happening. “Text me if you need me to pick you up early.” He said, receiving a gracious nod from her in response. 

He tried his best to shake his unease as he sat with her, holding her, and allowing the touch of her blazing skin on his own to calm the racing thoughts in his mind. He changed the subject, remembering to ask for book recommendations as he attempted to steer his mind from the unnecessary panic that refused to leave. 

——————

February 8th, 2005

Camila had never wished more to take her jacket off, the heat of the day causing a sheen of sweet to cover her forehead, despite the temperature not being above seventy. Of course, the entire school had decided to sit outdoors, given the ‘beautiful’ weather, and the long sleeves that she wore were beginning to stick to her skin. She wondered briefly if it was worth it to try and cover the bruises with makeup rather than the extra layer of fabric. 

Her thoughts halted as she realized that this solution would only end up solving one of her two issues. Her bones would still continue to protrude from her muscles, something that was sure to only get worse as she grew sicker and sicker. The last thing she needed was people growing concerned of her health in any way shape or form. 

She shook the thoughts from her head, looking up from the unappetizing food to Bella who was sat opposite on the picnic table. The girl’s eyes wandered around at the crowd of students gathered in the unusual sunny grounds, seemingly anxious about something. “He’s not here.” Jessica spoke from her spot atop the table where she perched soaking in the rays of sunshine. Bella looked up, slightly embarrassed that she had been caught looking for him. “Whenever the weather’s nice, the Cullens disappear.” She explained, eyes closed as her face tilted up towards they sky. 

Bella looked to her, slightly confused. “What, do they just ditch?” She asked curiously.

“No, Dr. and Mrs. Cullen yank them out for, like hiking and camping and stuff.” Jessica explained. Camila hummed, a small smirk forming on her lips. Was this really the excuse they had come up with? It was kind of lame is she was being honest. Very vague at lease, but did she really expect anything else at this point? “I tried that out on my parents. Not even close.” Jessica continued, earning a snicker from Camila.

Angela rushed towards the group, her long brunette hair falling over her shoulders as she settled into a spot next to Bella. “Bella, are you sure you have to go out of town for prom? Camila isn’t going either. It’s going to be lonely without you guys.” She said, giving a dramatic pout. 

Bella grimaced at the question, seemingly just as perturbed as anytime Camila had been asked about the topic. “Oh, yeah, it’s a little family thing.” She explained dismissively. She turned to Camila, arching an eyebrow at the girl. “You’re not going?” She asked, surprised by the fact that she had not been the only one in the small town that hadn’t wished to attend the event. 

“What? Couldn’t find a date?” Jessica asked, attempting to pass the snide remark off as a playful joke. Camila’s face dropped, giving her a slight glare not allowing the girl’s comment to pass without a reaction from her. 

Angela perked up, wanting to defend her new friend. “Actually, her and Jasper are dating, but apparently neither of them wanted to go, so they made other plans.” She said, smiling as she gave Camila a teasing glance, causing a blush to creep up to her cheeks. Of course, anytime anyone mentioned him, she had to blush like a little girl with a crush. Honestly, who was she kidding? She wasn’t any better than that anyway. 

Jessica grimaced at the information, muttering something about Jasper ‘being even more of a weirdo than Alice’, earning an even more intense glare from Camila. “Okay, are we still good to go shopping in Port Angeles? I want to go before all the good dresses get cleaned out.” She asked Angela, deflecting the negative attention from the girl beside her. 

Angela nodded enthusiastically, smiling at Camila as she nodded as well. A shrill bell rang throughout the courtyard, signaling the end of the lunch period. Camila stood, grabbing her lunch tray from the table, attempting to hide how little she had eaten from the greasy array of food with her crumpled up napkin. 

Bella hesitated as the students began to head inside for the next half of classes for the day. “Port Angeles? You mind if I come?” Bella asked.

“Yeah, I need your opinion.” Angela said, grinning widely. Camila sighed, happy that she would have another friend there as a buffer between her and Jessica. It was no secret that the two didn’t like each other. Jessica clearly didn’t like to be talked back to in any sense of the phrase, and Camila wasn’t one to just sit there and take her bullying lightly. The two were bound to butt heads, but luckily she would have Angela and Bella there to lighten the blow of the inevitable disagreements that were to come.

——————

“I like this one, but, like I don’t know about the whole one shoulder thing.” Jessica said, holding the pink spaghetti strap dress in front of her body in the mirror to get a good look at herself. Angela nodded saying something about how the color looked good against her skin. 

Angela held up a dress of her own. “I like this one. What do you think?” She asked Camila expectantly, a bright look in her eye. 

Camila smiles taking in the sight before her, trying her best not to grimace as the headache pounding behind her temple got worse. “Yeah, I like the beading, and you wouldn’t need jewelry.” She argued, giving her best effort in sounding like she was interested and not like she was in a lot of pain. She pulled at the collar of her shirt, a cold sweat covering her forehead. Great, another hot flash, just what she needed.

They had been in the same dress shop from what seemed like hours and had barely gotten anywhere when it came to actually finding dressed for the two girls in front if her. Of course, within that time, her pain meds had completely worn off and the ache in her bones was beginning to rival the pounding in her head.

Angela turned. “Jess, what do you think? Lavender?” She asked the girl, gesturing to dress she was currently wearing. “Is that good? Is that my color?” She continued, fidgeting with the fabric that clung to her body. 

“I like it.” Jessica said quickly. “I like that dusty rose one, too.” She said, turning back to the mirror to admire her own reflection. “Okay, I like this one. It makes my boobs look good.” She said, flipping her hair over her shoulder. 

Knocking on the glass of the window behind her, Camila turned to see a group of four men passing by, all ogling over the girls in the shop before them. “Nice!” One of them yelled, loud enough for the group of girls to hear them through the glass. Camila grimaced lightly at the interaction.

Jessica scoffed, clearly flattered given the wide grin on her face. “That is uncomfortable.” She said, voice trailing off. 

“That’s disgusting.” Bella muttered, looking down at the book in her hands, earning an absent minded nod from Camila. 

Jessica perked up once more. “Bella, what do you think?” She asked. 

Bella looked up, finally giving the two dresses attention as her eyes left the pages of her book. “That looks great.” She said dismissively.

“You said that about, like, the last five dresses, though.” She said, smile dropping slightly as she twirled her hair around her finger. 

Bella smiled bashfully. “I thought they were all pretty good.” She said, laughing lightly. 

Angela looked towards the two girls sitting on the cushioned bench. “You guys aren’t really into this are you?” She asked frowning. 

Camila’s smile dropped, feeling bad that she wasn’t giving Angela the experience she had been looking for. She was trying to sounds enthusiastic, but if she was being honest, she really didn’t care about the dresses at all. All she had wanted was to spend some time with friends outside of school, but now, with the music playing throughout the store, the bright lights, and the hundreds of questions about her opinion of the different dresses they had tried on over the past hour, she was just tired and overstimulated. The pounding of her temples proved that she couldn’t take it much longer. 

“I actually really just want to go to this bookstore.” Bella admitted, giving an apologetic smile. “I’ll meet you guys at the restaurant?” She suggested.

Camila’s ears perked up at this, a perfect excuse to finally leave this god forsaken dress shop. “Do you mind if I come with? I could use some fresh air.” She asked, knowing she would most likely regret it soon, needing to walk to the book shop, but not being able to help herself. If she was being honest, she was almost certain that if she stayed in this shop one more minute her head might explode. Bella nodded, grabbing her coat before leading the way to the door outside. 

Camila let out a sigh of relief as the cool air hit her face, glad to finally be free of the stuffy environment of the shop. Pain ricocheted up her legs as her steps landed on the pavement, attempting to give the pain little thought as she was just glad to have some quiet and cool air on her skin. It frustrated her to no end of course that she was incapable of doing such a simple thing as going shopping with friends, but she would be lying if she said that she hadn’t thought something like this was likely to happen. She would, however, enjoy it while it lasted, knowing she wouldn’t even have the opportunity to do so for much longer.

It was moments like this that made her happy that Bella was a particularly quiet person, and if she was being honest, she quite enjoyed the girls silent company. Her migraine was finally starting to subside as the small book shop came into view. Camila gave Bella a soft smile as she opted to stay outside in the cool air. She checked behind her, to make sure the girl had entered the shop before tearing the long sleeved zip-up hoodie from her frail arms, letting a sigh of relief leave her lips as the cool wind hit her blazing skin. 

She looked down at the pale skin the stretched loosely across her arms, the area scattered with varying shades of bruises. She knew she would only have a moment of sweet relief before Bella returned, so she closed her eyes and chose to savor the time she had been allowed. Her eyes opened, gazing out at the sunset before her. She hadn’t actually realized how late it had gotten and internally scolded herself for the missed time she would end up having with Jasper that night. 

She sucked in a deep breath, taking note of how her chest tightened uncomfortably. Dr Cullen had warned her of the discomfort that breathing would soon bring, but as prepared as she thought she was, she knew that the inevitable struggle would not be anything she could ever be truly prepared for. She knew that this was just the beginning of how horrible it would end up feeling for her. The reality of dying would one day end up being too much for her to handle. 

She wondered for a moment if taking the opportunity that Jasper had offered when the time came would make her brave or a coward. What in the end would be the easy solution? Dying and leaving him, or living and leaving everyone else she loved? In that moment, she wasn’t sure, but she did know what her heart yearned for. The image of his amber eyes flooded her thoughts, the idea of him alone, calming her unsteady breaths. 

A soft bell jingled behind her, pulling her from her wandering thoughts as she quickly pulled the fabric back up her arms and onto her shoulders. She turned taking in the site of Bella walking towards her holding a small book in her hand. “Ready?” She asked, gesturing with a nod to the road ahead. Camila nodded, giving a small smile as they started the trek back to where the restaurant was.

Their shoes thudded against the sidewalk as they walked in silence, a fog starting to settle in around them. They turned, cutting in between two buildings, taking the same route back that they had taken to get there. Suddenly, it became glaringly obvious the stark difference between the alley during the day and at night, and just as suddenly, Camila felt a chill run up her spine. Not the same chill she would get when Jasper touched her, but an eery chill. 

Stood there on the other side of the ally was the group of men who had passed by at the dress shop, looking much more menacing under the dim glow of the street lights. One of the men had just spotted them and had turned in his tracks to move towards them, the rest of the men following his lead. Camila grabbed Bella’s arm, turning back around before swiftly retracing their steps onto the trail they had just taken. 

They were now in a much bigger clearing, although just as deserted, and Camila chastised her self mentally for letting her pain and jumbled thoughts cloud her judgement. She wasn’t stupid, but god did she feel like she was in that moment. If she had been paying more attention she would’ve noticed the time of day or even the lack of people on their walk to the book store. 

Footsteps echoed throughout the air, the men no doubt following them further into the clearing. “Saw you in the dress store.” One of the men called out loudly. Camila forced her eyes to remain ahead, as if ignoring the men would make them disappear.  

“Hey, where are you running to?” Another yelled. Camila’s heart began to race, hearing the thudding in her ears, breath becoming shallow and quick, her lungs tightening with every gasp for air. 

Blinking rapidly, trying to calm her heart and her mind as the panic set it, three more men came into view on the other end of the lot. “What up? It’s my girls.” One said, his eyes meeting hers as the other three coming in closer. A menacing smirk coated his face as she tired to look anywhere but into his dark terrifying eyes. 

One man from behind called out to another. “How you guys doing? Look who we just found.” 

Camila’s hand tightened around Bella’s arm, attempting to ground herself in the moment and not settle into a full blown panic attack. 

“What’s up, girls?”

“Hey, where are you going?”

“Where are you going?”

“Come get a drink with us.”

“Yeah, you should hang out with us, come on.”

“It’s fun.”  

“What’s the problem?” “You’re pretty.”

Voices called out around them as the men got closer and closer starting to cage them in and breaking them apart from each other. Fuck. This couldn’t be happening. The one time she went out with friends, and this happens? Really? Panic was really starting to set in as her mind began to wander further. It was one thing for this to happen to her, I mean her life was about to end anyway, but Bella too? She had her whole life ahead of her. 

“Don’t touch me.” Bella snapped, pulling her arm from one of the men harshly. 

The voices continued to ramble around them. Sadness bloomed in her chest as reality sunk in. Unless a miracle happened soon, they would likely end up dead by the end of this and despite having thought that she was prepared for death, she couldn’t get Jasper’s face out of her mind. Maybe she wasn’t as ready for the end as she had thought. The thought of leaving Jasper was what hurt the most, leaving a gaping hole in her heart. Maybe she was a coward, maybe not, in that moment she didn’t care. All she cared about was him.

Darkness started to encroach her vision, seeping in from all sides. Her body started to feel heavy, pain shooting up her arm as one of the men grabbed harshly at her, his fingers digging into her flesh. She was certain she would faint soon when all of a sudden, the screeching of tires against the pavement behind her cut through her jumbled thoughts. 

She turned her head feebly, a silver Volvo whipping around the corner, causing the men to jump back. Wait a second. She knew that car. Edward, thank god. She thought, relief flooding her veins. She had been sure that they were goners, destined to end up on some Dateline or CSI episode. 

The car jerked to a stop, Edward popping out of the driver seat, quickly followed by Jasper from the passenger seat. “Get in the car.” Edward instructed Bella. 

Jasper rushed to Camila’s side, wrapping his arm tightly around her waist as he allowed her to rest her bodyweight on him, leading her to the back seat of the car. He sat her against the leather seats, pulling back to look her in the eyes. 

Camila took in the view of his face, his hand coming up to brush her cheek gently. “Are you okay?” He asked, concern filling his voice. She nodded in response, letting out a deep shaky breath she didn’t know she had been holding. Relief flooded through her. She wasn’t going to die tonight. Jasper had saved her. Tears pricked her eyes as she pulled him towards her by the collar of his shirt into her open arms. 

She wrapped them tightly around his neck, breathing in his scent. “Thank you.” She whispered, her breath catching in her throat as she tried to blink back the tears. 

Jasper willed himself to pull away from her grip, pressing his lips to hers fiercely before pulling away quicker than he would have liked as he backed up further onto the pavement. “I’ll be right back, stay here.” He instructed, forcing his eyes to leave hers as he stepped away. 

Jasper stood to his full height, closing the door of the vehicle behind him, turning to look at the group of men before him. White hot anger ripped through his chest as he assessed the men. He wanted to kill them. To rip them to shreds for even thinking about doing anything to her. The truth was, if Edward hadn’t convinced Jasper to come along on a trip to watch over Camila and Bella then they would have gone through with the unspeakable. 

Edward had seen what one of the men was thinking. Had seen that he had done this sort of thing to other women before. Had seen that he would do it again given the chance. Jasper squared his shoulders pushing his power out from himself. Pushing fear into the minds of the men before him. Unspeakable fear that would never leave them, never completely. A waking nightmare that would terrify them to their last days, because as much as he wanted to physically hurt them, he knew that he couldn’t. Not with Camila so close and already afraid. This would be the next best thing. This would have to suffice. This would have to tame the beast inside of him.

Their faces morphed into looks of terror and Jasper watched, only slightly satisfied as he watched them scramble away as quickly as their feet would take them. Wishing that he could’ve somehow inflicted more terror on the men.

Jasper turned back to the car, rushing to get inside as Edward closed the driver side door. He joined Camila in the back seat, pulling her towards him and wrapping her into his grasp as Edward sped away from the scene. Camila shook in his arms, the reality of everything that had just happened lingering in the air around them. Vaguely, Jasper could hear the voices of Edward and Bella in the front of the vehicle, although he paid them no mind. All that mattered to him in that moment was Camila. 

He had known deep down that something would happen, he didn’t however think it would have ever been something like this. Something like a group of revolting men attempting to take her away from him. His jaw clenched at the mere thought of it, the idea infuriating him to no end. 

But what enraged him the most was the terror radiating off of Camila. The terror that those vile men inflicted on her. He realized that it was slightly hypocritical to think of these men as monsters while he sat there, knowing of his own past, knowing of the blood on his hands, but he knew he would never even think of doing such a thing to a woman. 

The fact that these men had been about to do such unspeakable things to anyone was bad enough, but to her? The fire in his chest burned hotter as he imagined what he would’ve done to the men had it not been for Camila’s presence. Vivid images overtook his mind. Ripping. Tearing. Blood. Mangled bodies littering the ground. For a moment, he imagined indulging himself on that blood, feasting on the terrible men and for the first time in so long, truly satisfying his eternal thirst. 

“Jasper.” Edward hissed through his teeth. Jasper’s eyes shot up to meet his brother’s in the rear view mirror, seeing his seething glare. He realized in that moment that his vivid mental imagery probably wasn’t helping Edward deal with his own fury over the situation. 

Jasper sucked in a breath that his lungs didn’t need. “Sorry.” He muttered in reply, turning his attention back to the girl in his arms. She gave no sign of fright, her expression completely blank as she looked ahead in a daze, but her body continued to shake ever so slightly. Jasper felt the fear, radiating outwards from her and focused his power on trying to sooth her. Her body relaxed in his arms, letting out a sigh as she buried her face in his neck, breathing in the musky scent of him. 

“Thank you.” She muttered into his skin. She wasn’t exactly sure what she was thanking him for, whether it be saving her, or helping calm her down, or both even, but she thanked him nonetheless. Regardless of its’ origin, she needed her gratitude for him to be known. 

Time moved quickly in a blur around her as the car suddenly came to a halt. She looked up, realizing that Edward had parked the car, seeming to have driven to the restaurant that they had planned on meeting Angela and Jessica at. Camila’s eyes flickered up to Jasper’ face in question. “We should get you something to eat.” He said softly, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.

Her eyes bore into his pleadingly. “Can we please stay in the car? I’ll eat when I get home, promise.” She begged, wanting the privacy that the restaurant would not be able to provide. In truth, she hadn’t wanted to leave his arms, his comforting embrace being one of the only things in that moment keeping her grounded. The security of his strong arms around her made her feel safe, made her feel like she was home. In reality, that is what he had become to her, her home. 

Jasper paused for a moment, contemplating their options before nodding. Bella was sure to have many questions and this was definitely not the time for anything resembling a double date. 

Soon, the two were alone the radio playing softly in the background of their silence. “I’m sorry.” Camila muttered quietly, breaking the comfortable silence. 

Jasper’s head turned, eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “What do you have to be sorry for?” He asked, grabbing her chin to turn her head to force her eyes to his own. 

She sucked in a shaky breath, “I wasn’t thinking when I left with Bella or I would’ve convinced her to stay with Jessica and Angela. I had headache and needed some fresh air and-“ She rambled on.

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” He interrupted, having not had the patience to listen to her attempt to punish herself further. “It is not your fault that there are horrible people in the world.” He assured her, resting his forehead on hers. 

Camila closed her eyes, focusing on the feel of Jasper’s skin against her own. She was beyond lucky and she knew it. Lucky that Edward and Jasper were there, listening, paying attention to make sure that Bella and her were safe. She would have thanked him again if it weren’t for his persistence that it wasn’t her fault. Camila knew that it was though, knew that she should have been thinking more clearly, should have been more aware. 

So, instead of thanking him once more verbally, she leaned forward to plant a kiss to his lips. She leaned fervently into the touch, pouring every ounce of emotion into the kiss as possible, her lips moving in sync with his own. In that moment she knew. Knew that this was the coward’s way out. Choosing Jasper was most definitely the easier of her two options. Living her life with him, grasping at their forever had to be the cowardly choice, because the other option seemed so much more torturous. 

Next Chapter -coming soon

Tag List:

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[l0v3tast3]

AHH Hello!!! I absolutely love your writing, it’s so good!!!!

I was wondering…

Y/n always wear a mask to conceal her identity, in hopes the 141 doesn’t find out that Makarov is her father!!

141 had captured Makarov for interrogation, and y/n is there. As the interrogation continues, they start to notice that y/n and Makarov know each other, by the subtle little informality they spoke to one another. And the truth starts to come out, little by little!!!!

✎ tysm i love you :(( i absolutely love this idea the angst potential is just *chef's kiss* i'm sorry this one took like over a month to make oops, also i tried to keep personal details abt the reader as vague as possible, pls let me know if there's something i can fix!!

✎ tags: female reader, military reader, major daddy issues, violence, mentions of blood, hurt/barely any comfort if at all, not proofread im too cool for that,

✎ word count: 2,704

the silence in the cold, gray interrogation room was so thick that you were choking on it. you knew you had just fucked up, badly.

you had done so well so far, too. you're fabricated identity had fooled everyone. the name you had chosen stuck, and no one ever noticed your old one threatening to jump from your mouth when you introduced yourself. you always kept the childhood memories and little anecdotes vague. you stuck to your rehearsed lines better than a world-famous actor. you did every single thing right.

and now, here he was, your own blood, fucking it all up for you, again.

technically, he had made you fuck it up for yourself. it was just how makarov worked; he was a spider weaving a web in the corner, watching, waiting. this man, your supposed father, didn't know anything real about you. he didn't know you as a father should know his daughter. but he knew which buttons to press.

he only knew what to say to you when it would allow him the opportunity of watching you fall a little deeper towards rock bottom.

you knew that the room had cameras covering every square inch, and the microphones ensured that you're accidental admission to your heritage was heard by your entire task force.

there was a red hot pit opening inside of you, caving your insides in like a black hole and threatening to consume your entire being. it was rage, you realized. something you only ever seemed to feel in the presence of one person.

you briefly considered killing him, right there and then. was this really the straw that broke your back? it truly was just another thing to add to the list. you had known he would do this.

no, you were angry at yourself.

on the other side of the door, the four men of the 141 task force were all stood still in shock. what the hell did you just say?

none of them wanted to believe it. they especially didn't want to admit that it made sense. you had done a fucking fantastic job of hiding it, they'll admit that, but even you couldn't hide everything.

price saw the way you tensed when you were passed laswell's photo of makarov in the bar, after you had all put an end to hassan's plan. he saw the way you dropped it and slid it to the next person quickly, as if touching the picture had burned your fingertips.

soap had asked you if you were okay more than once during the plane ride to russia. you were so restless, so different from your usual grounded self. you just said you were having some flying anxiety. he felt stupid now for writing it off so easily.

and kyle, the first one to trust you (and to even really talk to you), he had seen the anger sparking off of you while you shot your way through the tower to get to makarov. floor after floor, bullet after bullet, you had paved a path of blood through the mercenaries. he wondered if someone else had taken your mask and gear and was pretending to be you.

simon saw the fear in you when you all got to the last door. you had been so quick in your endeavor to get here, but he saw you hesitate to follow them in. he saw how you never took your wide eyes off of him, and how you stayed a few steps back, moving far out of the way when price began to escort him out in handcuffs.

and when they had asked you to go into the interrogation room, they all saw how you stopped breathing, and the sweat collecting on what little skin they could see above your mask. you had stuttered when you quietly agreed.

when you stepped into the room, makarov took one look at your eyes, and you knew he recognized you. no, he recognized the hatred. and it made him smile.

now, sitting in the cold metal chair, you realized that it wasn't just one mistake, but a series of them; you had let him unravel you, again. you understood, finally, that he saw you as he did everyone else. he saw you as someone that held him back.

part of you had always known, ever since you were young, still single-digits, and he would only visit you once every few months, if that. you had elected to ignore it. now you couldn't.

you couldn't move. behind you was the door that would lead you to the consequences of your actions. in front of you was the reason for those actions.

this is what you had wanted, wasn't it? it was like something snapped back into place, and you suddenly remembered that everything you had done up until now, every time you put the mask on before leaving your room, every lie you had told and every person you had killed had been to get you here. in front of your father. you remembered that the image of him with a bullet between his eyes was what kept you going.

if you killed him, would it finally absolve you? the gun on your hip felt twenty pounds heavier now. your fingers, folded together in your lap with a white-knuckle grip, felt like lead. would this sin make all the other wrongs right?

a tiny voice was telling you to just walk away, let the team's wrath come down on you and let them deal with makarov, but you had already thrown the table between you towards the wall, he was already on the ground with your hands wrapped around his throat.

you were yelling, no, screaming at him. all the compacted feelings from years and years of being as quiet as possible came up like vomit, spewing out in a mess that could never be cleaned up.

there were more than just makarov's hands on you, pushing and pulling you away from him and dragging you out of the room, kicking and screeching to let you just finally kill him, while two other blurry shapes hauled him back into his own chair.

the heavy metal door shut behind the two people practically carrying you, and they finally let you go. you stumbled a few steps away, whirling around for the next target of your fury.

your captain and lieutenant were standing in front of you, both tensed, waiting for you to do something. you couldn't exactly make out their faces- were you crying?

"what in the bloody hell just happened in there?" price snarled. it was the voice he used when he was face to face with his enemy.

"let me back in there." it was a demand. you needed to kill him.

"that's not gonna happen," simon barked. john and kyle had come out from the interrogation room to stand behind the other two men. "you need to explain, now."

they all stared at you with varying looks of anger and hurt. it wasn't the first time you'd ever had it directed at you, but this was somehow worse than all the others.

every cell in your body was shrieking at you to just run for the door, to somehow get through all four of these men, your teammates, your friends, and kill makarov. but their glares glued you to your spot.

"please-" your voice was trembling, years of grief and agony dripping from every word, "please, just let me kill him. you have to let me kill him." you spoke slowly and quietly, focusing on just trying to get the words out. you took a shaky breath and focused your eyes on a muddy bootprint on the floor. you didn't want to see the looks on their faces.

"you don't understand, you just- just let me back in there, please, i'll get whatever you need out of him, but he needs to die!" your voice was getting louder, and you briefly wondered if your father could hear you. "his men are probably already on their way here. don't you get it? if i don't kill him now, he will get out."

the men in front of you were more shocked now than anything at the change in your demeanor. you had been coined the "second ghost" throughout the units, partly for the mask, but also because of your detachment. you were kind, but you always held logic above emotion.

in front of them now was nothing short of a nervous wreck.

despite not moving, you were frantic. you were wringing your hands together, pressed tight against your stomach. your eyes darted from side to side, person to person, between them and the door to makarov.

price took a step forward and you took a step back. he was slow, bringing his hand up as if he were approaching a wild animal. if he was still angry, he was hiding it now.

"come on, kid, let's just get out of 'ere, eh? go somewhere away from him," he said lowly. the other three men watched tensely, not moving, but their hands still close to their guns. just in case.

"no, no- just let me- price, you need to let me back in there!" you were a broken record, you knew it, but there was nothing else to say, nothing else you could think about. this was what you had been waiting for, you were right where you had wanted to be for the past- how many years now? how long has he tormented you for now?

you could feel your father's presence in the next room like bugs crawling across your body. it made your head feel fuzzy and your hands shake. was it from rage or fear? you couldn't tell, so you chose the rage.

it was like bile stuck in your throat, all the pain makarov had caused you finally being unearthed. you wanted to throw it all up and spit it out onto him, lay your organs and hatred alike out on the table in front of him so he could see the decay. you wanted him to rot from the inside out like you had.

your eyes glanced at the door one last time before focusing on price. he was watching you, just a couple of steps in front of you now.

"let me back in there, john." it was a whisper, but still the steadiest thing you had spoken since they had dragged you out.

"no." he said your name quietly, and you heard it as the plea it was, but you're head decided it was done listening.

your body threw itself at him, swinging underneath his arms and onto his back to try and get him on the ground. the room exploded into yelling, and multiple pairs of hands were on you in an instant, hauling you off of price and forcing you face-down onto the ground with your hands behind your back.

cold metal latching around your wrists didn't stop your screaming and kicking, lashing out at the air around you. it didn't work well, because you were being hauled back to your feet and pushed into a separate interrogation room.

whoever was carrying you didn't bother with trying to attach your handcuffs to the table, basically throwing you in and slamming the door shut before you could get back on your feet.

outside the cell, the four men stood in silent shock. what was there to say, where would they even start? would they really be able to hear each other over your muffled screams to let you out?

you didn't know how long you had been in there once the door finally opens again, but you had stopped screaming and struggling to get out of the room. you had sat down at the table, your hands folded in front of you on the cold surface. you stared down at the blood beading and smearing around the handcuffs.

kyle squeezed in through the tiny amount he'd let the door open before he shut it quickly, keeping his eyes on you. you didn't look up, your red eyes staying fixed on one point even as he slowly moved closer. he followed them to see the red rings underneath the steel, and a pang of guilt squeezed his heart tight.

he sat down across from you, folding his hands in front of him on the table, mirroring you. you still hadn't looked up at him, or done anything to acknowledge his presence; you hadn't even moved.

"are you alright?" kyle implored. he kept his voice soft, bending over a little to try to look you in the eye.

it took you a few moments to respond; he almost started to think you didn't hear him before you opened your mouth slowly.

"is he dead?" you croaked.

kyle let out an audible sigh while he leaned back in his seat, bringing his hands up to drag them down his face.

"no, we still need him. you know that."

you didn't say anything after that.

after sitting in silence for two full minutes, he spoke up. "you realize not telling us about this makes you look really bad, yeah?"

"you don't trust me anymore?" you whispered it, like you didn't want him to hear and answer. you knew what he would say.

"you aren't making it very easy."

kyle wanted to trust you still. part of him was angry and confused as to why you had kept something like this from them. the other part, the bigger part of him, knew that you were on still on the same side of it all. and he knew the other three men felt the same, but they couldn't just dismiss this.

"we can work this out, ya' know. you just have to be honest with us," he added after you once again stayed silent.

"be honest?" you echoed. you finally looked up at him. "about what? you heard me. makarov is my father. i want him dead. that's all there is to say."

kyle took his turn to not speak, weighing your words, figuring out where to go from there.

"why didn't you tell us?" he finally asked.

you looked back down at your wrists. "if i had told you i was makarov's daughter before i joined the team, then all i would have ever been is makarov's daughter." you paused to take a deep, shaky breath. it was uncomfortable with your mask still on, wet with tears, but you refused to take it off, to give away the last piece of your identity that was still yours at the moment.

"it's something we should have known," he contended quickly. "we could have used the information you have-"

you cut him off, your eyes snapping back up to glare daggers at him. "you think i know anything more than you?" you barked. something between a laugh and a sob escaped your throat before you could continue. "i was eight years old the last time i saw him in person. i was raised by live-in nannies. he only visited, what, maybe twice a year? and i don't know why he even bothered, either."

your hands were clenched into tight fists, and the same sting that circled your wrists was appearing in your palms. you kept going though; you didn't know if you could stop now.

"every time i get somewhere, every time i start making a life for myself again, he fucks it all up. never showed his damn face, but it was him, it was always-" you finally cut yourself off, not wanting to drag more memories out from the dark.

"makarov may be my father, but i am not his daughter. i swear, kyle, i fucking swear it." you were pleading with him to believe you now. you needed them to understand.

you could see it in the way his eyebrows creased that he wanted to take your words as the truth. but he didn't say anything (what could he have said?).

the door opened once again, and price half-entered the room to wave kyle back out. he avoided your gaze, something he'd never done before. then you were alone again.

[marcyvampire]

ugh I love your content, yandere marvel just gets met going like for real.

Okay so I would want to request platonic yandere hank maccoy x reader, this man is so under rated and I love him so much

SAVIOR COMPLEX

pairings ⸺ Yandere! Hank Maccoy x Fem!reader

¿Request? Yes!

This is a Headcanon!

warnings ⸺ mdni! Dark themes, violence/death, blood, insolation, Fluff, invasion of privacy, scars, delusion, Angst, ¿OOC Hank? Idk, fights, Disturbing Content, Unhealthy Obsession, Gaslight, Mental Illness, Corruption, Isolation, Paranoia, Manipulation.

sinopsis ⸺Hank McCoy, the charismatic and brilliant mutant known for his intelligence and imposing appearance, hides a dark and possessive side that emerges after falling in love. His devotion to his beloved is unwavering, leading him to obsess over her well-being and safety. While his love seems genuine and protective, his need for control becomes evident in every decision he makes: restricting her freedom, driving away anyone who might threaten their relationship, and marking her with traces that demonstrate his dominance. Every smile you give him is a reminder of his fervent desire to keep you by his side, but behind his sweet facade lies a palpable fear of losing you that consumes him and transforms him into an unyielding lover.

A/N ── English is not my first language—Spanish — Well, it took me a while to upload this, but not out of laziness or anything concerning; I just went on vacation for a week to explore a bit, and since I was going to many places, I couldn't write due to exhaustion. But here is the request. Once again, I apologize for the delay.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... remembers the first moment he saw you as if it were yesterday. You arrived at the mansion, trembling and wrapped in a thin white blanket that barely covered your battered body. Outside, it was raining, and the drops tapped against the windows in the silence. Your sobs mingled with the echo of thunder. Your eyes, swollen from crying, searched for some trace of comfort in that strange and gloomy place. He felt a pang in his chest but kept a prudent distance. He knew that his appearance could be intimidating. But one of the mutants who had brought you asked him to take care of you while he went to find help.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... sat down next to you with a mix of shyness and concern. He watched you in silence, searching for the right words to comfort you. However, every time he tried to say something, your only response was sobs. Until, unexpectedly, you cuddled against his chest. He felt your body tremble against his, and his heart began to race. In that instant, he decided he would do everything in his power to protect you. No one would hurt you again.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... grew fond of you as he helped you in your recovery. He spent nights in the lab, mixing ointments and designing specific treatments for your wounds. Every time he placed the bandage on your skin, he noticed how his fingers trembled slightly, feeling a mix of tenderness and a fervent desire to be your only protector. The night you tearfully told him about your kidnapping and the trials that had turned you into a mutant, his heart hardened. A dark spark was born within him. "No one should go through that," he whispered, taking your hand. No one would touch you without his permission.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... enjoyed showing you every corner of the garden. "This place is our little refuge," he said, and you noticed how his eyes grew increasingly intense when he fixed them on you. He showed you the most hidden nooks, the secret places only he knew. "Here, we are alone," he murmured softly, while you only thought it was a kind gesture. For him, however, it was a statement: his promise that no one else would know you like he did.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... organized private dinners with you every night, a perfect excuse to have you all to himself. He lit the table with candles, and his smile seemed kind and warm. "It's perfect, isn't it?" he would ask as he served you. His eyes locked onto you every time you laughed, and in those moments, a dark satisfaction washed over him. No one else could make you smile like that. No one else could make you feel safe like he did.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... became your confidant. He never let a night pass without inviting you to talk, encouraging you to share your fears and dreams. "I will always be here for you," he whispered, and you simply nodded, grateful for his company. But every time you mentioned someone else, whether in a trivial story or in simple conversation, you noticed how his gaze darkened slightly. Sometimes, you couldn't help but feel an overprotective presence in his words, but you always attributed those thoughts to your imagination.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... felt a burn in his chest the day he saw you talking to another mutant, laughing, as if you could trust someone other than him. He approached and forced a smile. "Who is he?" he asked, keeping a casual tone, but feeling his insides boil with jealousy. When you told him he was "just a friend," he couldn't help but tense up. No one was "just a friend" to you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... decided he had to act. He couldn't risk losing you. So, when that "friend" of yours got involved in an unfortunate accident during a training session, no one suspected Hank. He watched as they took him to the medical wing, with a dark sense of triumph pulsing in his chest. Now no one would come between you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... always found an excuse to be near you. Every time you entered the lab, he was there, offering you help or even preparing new "experimental" treatments that ensured he saw you often. "I don't want you to feel lonely," he said, and in his voice, you could perceive something between sweetness and a strange pressure that you couldn't quite define.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... finally, one night under the stars, mustered the courage to confess his feelings to you. "You are everything to me," he whispered in an almost reverent tone, taking your hand and squeezing it. "No one else can take that place. No one else would understand the love I feel for you." His eyes, shining under the moonlight, looked at you with an intensity that seemed to possess you.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... gradually moved you into his room, first arguing that it would be easier for him to supervise your recovery. "So you can rest and not have to wander the halls at night," he explained softly, holding your hand with a mix of affection and a barely perceptible pressure. At first, he placed an extra bed next to his, assuring you it was just temporary. But night after night, he began to inch closer, until it became a routine to share his bed. You slept together as if you were a married couple already, and although you never spoke of it directly, Hank acted as if it were the most natural thing in the world. In the mornings, he would wrap his protective arm around you, holding you close while whispering, "You know? Here, in my arms, I feel like nothing could harm you." It was in those moments of silent intimacy that Hank allowed himself to imagine a future where you were his wife, his companion forever, someone whom the other X-Men would recognize as his.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... adored seeing how the other X-Men began to treat you with the same respect and deference they had for him, but now with a nuance indicating that you were someone special to Hank. He noticed the respectful glances from his teammates when you appeared by his side, and that filled his heart with a dark and possessive pride. You are mine, he thought, feeling a strange satisfaction in seeing how others accepted you in that role without questioning it. With every gesture, every smile, every knowing glance from the others, Hank felt that his dream of marrying you was ever closer to becoming a reality.

Yandere Hank McCoy who...ensured that you were comfortable and protected in his bed every time you cried from nightmares. Some nights, you would wake trembling, reliving the traumas of the past or the dangerous missions you had experienced. He would hold you tightly, cradling you against his chest, his claws gently stroking your back in an attempt to calm you. "I'm here, love. No one will hurt you," he would whisper in a hoarse voice, allowing the weight of his own body and presence to soothe your fears. In those moments, his thoughts intertwined with an intense concern and a need to protect you from everyone, even from life itself outside those walls.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... felt a deep desire to be with you in every way, but at the same time feared his own mutation. He knew that within him existed a bestial ferocity that he always tried to control. He didn't want that side of him to scare you or hurt you in a moment of intimacy. So, as much as he longed to consummate his love for you, he held back, caught between his yearning and the fear of losing control. Every night, his thoughts revolved around this internal struggle, and he often woke up in a cold sweat, desperately wishing he could love you without reservations.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... suffered deeply the day you returned injured from a Sentinel attack. It wasn't your first mission, but when he saw you stagger through the door of the mansion, supported by Ororo and covered in wounds, something within him broke. He rushed to you, his gaze tinged with desperation, holding you tightly as he took you to the infirmary. His voice trembled as he said, "You shouldn't have gone out, I shouldn't have let you go... Oh God, what would have happened if you hadn't come back?" For days, he stayed by your side, caring for each of your wounds, tormented by the idea of losing you. That experience convinced him that you would never be in danger again as long as he could prevent it.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... forbade you from going on missions after that incident. "I don't want you to suffer again," he told you, with an intensity that made it clear there was no room for negotiation. In his mind, this was the only way to protect you. He offered you an alternative, one he considered much safer and more satisfying: to become a teacher for the young mutants. Teaching them basic skills, stories of famous mutants, and values, always within the safety of the mansion. "This way you can use your abilities without risking yourself," he explained, making sure the idea seemed an act of care and not control.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... began to fantasize about the idea of having a family with you. Watching you interact with the children, hearing you laugh and care for them with such tenderness awakened a deep desire in him, a vision of a future where you and he shared something more. His relentless and obsessive mind began to draw images of children who would inherit both your sweetness and his intellect. He didn't want a large family, but a small one he could call his. In his vision, you would always be under his care, in the safety of the home he would build for you. Thus, night after night, Hank dedicated himself to his dreams and the obsession of protecting you, as his love grew darker and more possessive. Every time he held you while sleeping, his barely audible whisper sealed his intentions: "Nothing and no one will separate us, love. This is our destiny."

Yandere Hank McCoy who... finally gathered the courage to propose to you one special night. He had organized a dinner where several young X-Men, like Jubilee, Kitty, and Bobby, were present to celebrate with you. Everything had to be perfect, or at least that was his hope. But, as was customary among the young, the evening was somewhat chaotic. There were laughs, jokes, and some accidents with the food, details that could have irritated him on any other occasion. However, that night he was so focused on you, on your laughter and your smile, that nothing else mattered. At the end of dinner, with trembling hands and a gaze filled with an almost unsettling devotion, Hank knelt before you. He still remembered the pressure in his chest as, with a voice laden with emotion, he said, "Will you marry me?" Time seemed to stand still as everyone present watched, holding their breath. When you whispered a tearful "yes," Hank felt as if the entire universe was finally in harmony. He wrapped you in his arms, and that night he felt that his life finally made sense: you were his forever.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... couldn't wait another moment and soon begged Nightcrawler to marry them, eager to formalize what he considered the most sacred bond of his life. “Kurt... please, make it official,” Hank implored, his voice trembling but resolute. Kurt, holding a special license to officiate, observed the intensity in Hank's gaze. Although he had certain reservations, he agreed, touched by Hank's insistence and the depth of his feelings—or what appeared to be love— The ceremony was simple, with their mutant friends and colleagues gathered around. As you exchanged vows, Hank looked at you as if you were the light he had been seeking all his life. When the final "yes" escaped your lips, his heart surged with a potent blend of euphoria and obsession. At last, he knew, no one else could claim you, no one could approach you without his permission. You were his in both body and soul, bound to him for eternity, and he would do anything necessary to keep it that way.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... after the wedding, let his possessive and dark side flourish without restrictions. He no longer tried to hide it; every time someone approached you, he would step in with a cold glare and a low growl in his throat. At first, he only intervened subtly, but over time, he began to visibly push everyone away from you, ensuring that no other man or woman dared to even look at you with interest. The confidence with which he distanced you from any conversation or group began to unsettle you, and when you tried to discuss it with him, he would only hold you tightly, whispering reassuring words but filled with an unbreakable authority: "You are mine... I don't need to share you with anyone."

Yandere Hank McCoy who... every night, when you were with him in intimacy, let that wild side he worked so hard to hide from the rest of the world out. His need to possess you became physical, and he didn't hide the pleasure of seeing you marked with his imprints: light bruises and scratches that he saw as proof that you were his and no one else's. In those moments, his voice turned deep and dominant, his words a mix of promises and warnings: "Never forget that you belong to me, and you are mine." Although you said yes to calm him, in your mind doubts and a silent fear accumulated, fearing that this side of him would grow more than you could bear. It no longer mattered that he took you in his beastly body; he knew you loved him, so he made love to you fiercely while your nails scratched his blue back.

Yandere Hank McCoy who... began to control every aspect of your life, limiting your outings and ensuring that if you had to interact with anyone else, it was under conditions he could supervise. He only allowed you to go out on special occasions and under his watchful eye. He came to fantasize about the idea of taking you to a secluded place, away from everyone, where you could live together, where he could make love to you without fear of you crying out in pleasure, away from prying eyes. Often, he spent sleepless nights considering the possibility, imagining a life where you only existed for him, where no one else could come between his love.

In his moments of deepest obsession, he would hold you tightly while whispering, "One day, my love, we will have everything we've always desired. You will be only mine, and together, nothing and no one will be able to separate us."

A/N ─── I made it very short, but I wanted to try new things. I’m not sure if you like it when I add a bit of light NSFW to the headcanons; if so, please let me know in the comments. I’m trying to experiment a bit with different styles and themes, so your opinion would be very valuable to me.

Hank needs love ♡ I really like his personality and appearance; he's my guilty pleasure u.u Sometimes I feel a little bad about how much I admire him, but at the end of the day, we all have our secrets, right? His mix of intelligence, loyalty, and that dark side that occasionally peeks through fascinates me. I'm excited to explore more of him in my writing. Don’t forget to leave your comments because I want to know what you think and what you would like to read more of in the future.

Thank you for your constant support; it means the world to me. Love you all!

Feel free to ask me anything if you want. Just go to my profile and message me; I always read your ideas and requests.

Take a Bath!

[lanawrx]

Johnny Joestar with Yandere Reader

a/n: I've been listening to NEW MAGIC WAND by Tyler the Creator, perfect song for obsessing and being crazy over Johnny lol

cw: violence and gruesome scenes, possessive and obsessive reader, dark thoughts

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The camp was quiet, save for the crackling of a fire and the soft murmurs of conversation. You sat close to Johnny, your shoulder brushing against his ever so slightly. His Kentucky drawl filled the air as he talked, telling you stories from his past races—his voice like a melody you never tired of hearing. Every word he spoke made you feel like you were sinking deeper into a warm, comforting fog.

You smiled at him, soft and sweet, the way you always did. You were gentle. Kind. Everything Johnny seemed to need after everything he’d been through. Your presence made him comfortable, and the way his blue eyes sometimes lingered on you—longer than on anyone else—told you everything you needed to know. He liked you. You could see it in the way he blushed when you touched his hand, how he stumbled over his words sometimes when you smiled just right.

“Y-you’re… uh, you’re easy to talk to,” Johnny muttered, his gaze shyly dropping to the ground as he rubbed the back of his neck. His voice was quiet, like he was nervous.

You giggled softly, your heart fluttering. You loved that he was so bashful around you. Loved how his cheeks would flush whenever you gave him even the slightest bit of attention. It made your heart swell with adoration. You leaned in just a little, close enough that your breath brushed his cheek, and you whispered, "I like talking to you too, Johnny."

His face turned red, and he looked away quickly, swallowing hard. "Y-yeah, well, it's nice… havin' someone like you around."

You giggled again, feeling the warmth of your affection for him spread through your chest. But beneath that soft, tender exterior—beneath the sweetness that made Johnny blush and stammer—was something darker. A shadow that clung to your thoughts whenever another woman dared to approach him.

Like tonight.

Your smile faltered slightly as you saw her. That fangirl was back again. The one who hovered like a vulture every time Johnny and Gyro took a break. You watched her now, that sickly-sweet smile on her face as she talked to him, giggled at something he said. The sight of her was a thorn in your chest. She didn’t deserve him. She didn’t know him like you did. She didn’t understand him like you did.

She doesn’t belong here. What, did she think he's up for grabs?

I fucking hate sharing.

Johnny turned toward her, an uncomfortable frown in place, and you saw the way she leaned in too close, the way her hand touched his arm. Your heart twisted violently in your chest, and the darkness inside you flared up, uncoiling like a serpent.

You felt your teeth grind together, jaw clenched so tightly it hurt. Your hands, which usually rested so gently in your lap, were curled into fists, nails digging into your palms so hard it almost bled.

I should kill her.

The thought came easily now, like a whisper that slipped into your mind, soft and persuasive. It was rational—necessary even. You could see it so clearly. Her fragile little neck in your hands, bones snapping like brittle twigs. The light in her eyes dimming, flickering out, as her life drained away. You’d feel her heartbeat stutter beneath your fingers, watch her struggle, watch the fear bloom in her eyes when she realized she’d never get to speak to Johnny again. Not ever.

Why does she think she can touch him? He’s mine. He’s always been mine.

You clenched your fists, the sickening saccharine smile still on your face, but your mind was racing. Images flashed through your thoughts—dark, terrible thoughts. You imagined her gone. Erased. Out of the picture, like she never existed. You imagined your Stand, the one that had awakened after you crossed the Devil's Palm with Johnny and Gyro, wrapping around her throat, squeezing until she disappeared like smoke in the wind.

I need to get her out of the picture.

Johnny’s voice reached your ears again, low and guarded for someone who was clearly unwanted.

These goddamn bitches didn't know how to properly approach him. They were clearly fucking too stupid to handle him, with the way they endlessly chattered, sounding like a bunch of annoying chihuahuas with the way they demanded his attention.

They didn’t fucking know what it was like to need him, crave him, like air, like blood. They didn’t know what it was like to feel like your world would collapse if he so much as looked at someone else.

You shifted closer to Johnny, your fingers gently brushing his hand, drawing his attention away from her.

“Johnny,” you said sweetly, your voice soft, “do you want to come help me with the horses?”

His eyes flickered to you, and you saw the faint blush creep up his neck again. He nodded quickly, like he was relieved to have an excuse to leave the conversation. “Uh, yeah, sure.”

The bitch’s smile faltered, but she quickly covered it up, giving Johnny a lingering look. You felt the bile rise in your throat as you saw her disappointment.

Good. She should be disappointed. She should know that Johnny wasn’t hers. He wasn’t anyone’s but yours.

The thought of her hands touching him, her fingers brushing against his skin—it made you fucking sick. Your stomach twisted with revulsion, but more than that, with rage. You could feel it building inside you, dark and violent, a storm that threatened to consume everything in its path.

I’ll crush her batshit ugly skull.

The image was vivid in your mind. Her head in your hands, blood pouring from her broken mouth, eyes wide with terror. You’d leave her body in the dirt, somewhere far away where no one would ever find her.

She’d be just another forgotten casualty in the Steel Ball Run. Another nameless girl lost to the wilderness.

As you walked away with Johnny wheeling himself beside you, your hand brushing his shoulder, you couldn’t help but feel the rush of satisfaction fill you. She was nothing. Just another obstacle in the way of what you and Johnny had. But obstacles could be removed. With your Stand, it was so easy. You could make her vanish, like magic.

The two of you reached the stables, and Johnny looked to you, offering a small, awkward smile. “Thanks, I uh… didn’t really wanna talk to her.”

Your heart soared at his words, even though a darker part of you whispered, Of course you didn’t. She’s not like me. She could never be like me.

You smiled sweetly at him, reaching out to gently brush a strand of hair from his face. “I know, Johnny,” you said softly. “I just wanted to protect you.”

His blush deepened, and he looked away, clearly flustered. “Y-you’re always lookin’ out for me, huh?”

Your fingers lingered on his skin for just a moment longer than necessary before you pulled away, letting your hand fall to your side. I always will. No one else deserves to be near you. No one else can love you like I do.

As Johnny leaned up to check on one of the horses, your thoughts drifted back to the annoying bitch from earlier. She was still out there, probably waiting for another chance to talk to Johnny. To touch him again.

She won’t get the chance.

Your Stand stirred within you, waiting, eager to act. You didn’t even have to go back to camp. You could do it from here—send your Stand to take care of her, to eliminate the threat without anyone ever knowing.

I’ll do it for you, Johnny. I’ll do anything for you.

Your smile remained soft, kind, as you watched Johnny work. He was so perfect, so fragile, and you needed to protect him. From the fangirls, from anyone who thought they could have a piece of him. They didn’t deserve him.

I’ll make her disappear.

The darkness in your mind whispered promises of safety, of a world where it was just you and Johnny. Where no one could come between you. Where no one else mattered.

“Johnny?” you asked, your voice gentle.

He looked up, his blue eyes meeting yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to slow. The way he looked at you—it was enough to make your heart skip a beat, enough to make you believe that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same way.

“Yeah?”

You smiled, stepping closer to him, close enough that you could feel the warmth of his body next to yours. “I’ll always protect you, Johnny,” you whispered, your voice sweet as honey. “No one will ever hurt you.”

He blinked, surprised by the intensity of your words, but he smiled shyly, his cheeks flushed. “I know you will,” he mumbled, stumbling over his words like he always did when you were this close.

You leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to the top of his cap, and watched with satisfaction as his blush deepened. He had no idea. No idea how far you’d go for him. How deep your love ran. How much you were willing to destroy to keep him safe.

You’re mine, Johnny.

And anyone who tried to take him away? They’d be gone.

Like magic.

Without another moment of hesitation, you let your Stand slip into the night, invisible to the eyes of those around you. It moved like a shadow, gliding through the dark with lethal precision. The girl didn’t even notice as it crept up behind her, hovering just out of sight.

You didn’t need to raise a hand. You didn’t need to say a word. Your Stand already knew what you wanted, what you craved. With a single thought, it struck—silent, deadly.

It was a great thing, Stands. And if you didn't have one...

You couldn't see them.

She didn’t scream. She didn’t have the chance.

Her body stiffened, eyes widening in shock as the invisible force closed around her throat, crushing her windpipe. Her hands flew to her neck, clawing at the air, gasping for breath, but it was futile. Her limbs convulsed, her face twisting in agony as the life was squeezed from her lungs.

You watched, your heart racing not with fear, but with satisfaction.

She collapsed to the ground, her body limp, her face frozen in terror. You felt a dark satisfaction settle over you as you stood, taking slow, deliberate steps toward your shared camp with Johnny and Gyro. The rest of the camp had fallen into a quiet hum, unaware of the crime you’d just committed in plain sight.

No one would ever know. No one would care.

Johnny’s head turned toward you, and when he saw you walking toward him, a soft blush spread across his cheeks. He smiled—that smile—the one that made your heart stutter, the one that made you feel like nothing else in the world mattered.

Gyro grinned at you, waving with a Nyoho!, perfectly unaware of your sins. One he'd surely be disgusted by if he knew.

And he'd surely convince Johnny to leave, if he ever found out.

Well, it's a good thing that nasty little pest was taken care of. That way, Gyro wouldn't do that!

Right?

Johnny patted the spot right next to him, always eager to have you near him.

He's so damn cute.

“We can finally be together,” you whispered, your voice soft, loving, as though you hadn’t just snuffed out a life moments ago.

Together.

The word echoed in your head, images of you and Johnny spending the rest of your lives together flashed like it was your last moment alive.

Johnny blinked, confusion flickering in his eyes, but he didn’t question it. He didn’t know. He would never know. All that mattered was that he was here, with you, now. There was nothing stopping you from being at his side forever.

“I…” Johnny’s voice wavered slightly, his blush deepening. “I’ve always felt like—well, like I could count on you. Like you’re always there.”

He smiled again, that shy, boyish grin that made you weak in the knees.

"Always and forever!" You beamed, lips bitten and cracked from endless nights of habitually chewing them while fantasizing about him.

For now, another problem was gone.

Like magic.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡ Thanks for Reading! ˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆ ˚｡⋆୨୧˚⋆

[faerievampling]

Killing Time

Chapter 7: Eternity's Promise

Summary: Astarion is alone.

Word Count: 4.9k

Pairing: Soft Ascended Astarion x Female Spawn Tav/Reader

Warning: 18+. Blood and Violence. PiV. Cunnilingus. Handjob. Masturbation. Obsessing over his consort’s panties. Obsessive and Possessive behavior. Heavy trigger warning for Panic Attack & Anxiety. Our vampire lord really going through it.

Link to AO3!

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Masterlist

A/N: yall this one was hard to write and took way longer than I intended, i hope I did it justice. please enjoy <3 I’m hoping chapter 8 will be out soon, I have 4 days off next week (mini vacation!) so I still intent to post chapter 8 this coming week :)

Pic by: @druidess-vp <3

Astarion believed he hadn’t forgotten what true suffering felt like: there had been too many times in his past where he was tortured, beaten, starved – no, he had certainly suffered. But the vampire lord had been out of touch with his pain for a long time, enveloped in a loving, fairy-tale-like existence with his darling consort, so perfect and submissive, for the past two thousand years. 

Astarion had everything he could ever want: riches, power, eternal love.

Even when he listened to the news from the realms, on how multiple nations had evolved to civil war, the threat of societal breakdown imminent, he had you, which was enough for him. Everything else could be rebuilt, just like the Ancunín name – but you couldn’t be replaced. 

“Involve the military. Whatever needs to be done, have it done,” Astarion demanded, his frustration growing immensely as he was acutely aware of his wife’s discomfort at the banquet; but he had to ignore it. Astarion had an incredibly powerful mind after his ascent, but that didn’t stop him from feeling mentally spread thin.

“The people are already marching to the capital of Amn. Neverwinter has been taken by a militia,” A man said; Astarion hardly bothered to memorize the faces of his advisors and other figureheads, anymore. It was easier to identify them by scent alone. 

Astarion mindlessly twists his wedding ring, the only one he had chosen to wear. He wanted to protect the Ancunín fortune and the power he’d consolidated, if possible – and most of all,  he really didn’t want to have to handle the managing of accounts during a coup. 

Suddenly, Astarion senses a strange feeling – one that he is familiar with, instantly recognizing it: a vision is coming over you, and he’s already racing towards you, wasting no time excusing himself.

“Astarion, Astarion, Astarion!” Your voice rang out in his head as you called his name over and over. Your fear was imminent, your panic rising by the second.

“I’m coming, my love!” Astarion desperately responds, but your cries only continue, racking through his mind as your fear becomes his own.

“Follow,” Astarion commands Alpohso and Ygritte, who obey immediately. 

Snip.

Astarion’s eyes widen. There is something bubbling inside him, deep in his chest, threatening to blossom as he digs his nails into his palm. It’s painful, making his heart physically ache. Your thoughts and feelings slip away from him, making that void between the two of you entirely empty: Astarion only hears his own thoughts reverberating in his mind. 

Upon viewing the Vampire Ascendant when the cord is cut with his consort, he merely pauses, his intensity so frightening that his spawn tremble with fear, dropping to their knees, ready to serve their Master in whatever way possible. He is empty, a vassal of space that is filled with a vicious anger so feral and vile that Astarion himself fears it. He doesn’t understand what’s happened: he knows you aren’t dead, because he would just know if you were, but he can’t sense you anymore, can’t probe into your mind, and for the first time in two millennia, Astarion finds himself alone.

You are his: his first spawn, his favorite spawn, his consort, his wife, his best friend, his one and only. “Where the hells are you?”

Astarion doesn’t come back to himself until he hears the high pitched screaming of a woman in his ear. He is back at the crèche, in a grand hall he doesn’t even recognize. Astarion knows he followed your scent here, to the end of the trail.

The blonde servant is holding onto a pile of blood and guts on the floor, the gore slipping through her hands as she clutches her chest. Looking at the blood on his hands, he couldnt be sure what he’d done to the spawn, but Astarion thought the servant was surely being dramatic – Ruth would heal, he was a vampire for god's sakes, and the pain the couple felt was nothing compared to how Astarion himself felt.

Something about seeing the two lovers together makes Astarion even more angry, his fury growing steady with every passing moment of your absence. Your voice plays back in his head, your image, the memory of your tender touch…

Cynthia sobs echo through the chamber of the dining hall, even louder than the crowd of gith that hung around the corridor, as she brings her wrist to Ruth’s mouth: the vampire latches on, sucking greedily at his lover. Astarion thinks it might make him feel better if he killed Ruth’s beloved; it would be an apt punishment for the spawn, but it wouldn’t be great enough. Astarion didn’t think any punishment would. Moving towards the couple, Astarion feels a hand on his shoulder, stopping him in his tracks.

The hand is firm, not aggressive but assertive. The hold on him isn’t trying to keep his fist, but get his attention; Astarion turns to see Lae’zel, her makeup smudged and eyes filled with common fury.

Astarion can hear the sound of the Kith’rak attempting to clear the hall, followed by a barrage of questions from the crowd. 

Astarion flinches away from her, her touch only making his skin crawl. He flits through her mind before she can even speak, gathering all the information the gith had about your disappearance. You vanished through a portal of darkness, Ziir’o had grabbed your hand, but the force was too strong, and you slipped away.

Lae’zel begins to speak, but Astarion moves past her, deciding Ziir’o should also be punished. But Astarion stops, recognizing something in the eyes of several of the gith: they, too, longed for you. It only reminded him of your absence, of that blank space in his mind that only increased, like the never ending expansion of the universe.

“You promised me forever, Tav.”

Instead of crushing the young gith’s chest and eating his heart, Astarion materializes into red mist, flitting away from the scene to scan the crèche for any sign of you. After many hours, he finds himself in the enchanted forest, zipping through the trees and murdering anything in sight.

The cavern in his chest only grows more hollow, and Astarion finds himself crying out for you with every stab, every bite, until his throat feels sore. He ran himself to the point of exhaustion, and although he would recover quickly, the wild thumping of Astarion’s heart made him feel a bit more steady. Alive, reminding him that he was still here, even if you weren’t, which means that he would just have to get you back.

Once Astarion finds his way back to your room, he numbly lays himself on your side of the bed, his nose rubbing into your pillowcase. He knows he can't waste any time, and he will only stay like this for a moment – but it’s a moment he needs, because he’s feeling your absence wash over him all over again, threatening to sweep him off his feet.

He finds himself in a daze, and there is a feeling in his heart that could only be described as frigid. Astarion brushes his fingers through his silver curls, closing his eyes as he accepts how wrong he was to think he ever understood suffering.

****

Astarion rests for only a moment before his mind is itching at him again, his thoughts on loop as his heart churns in his stomach. He felt desperate for your scent, desperate for any sign of you: he found his way to your laundry, finding the clothes you had worn to training that the servant hadn’t gotten around to washing yet. 

They smelled distinctly of your sweat, your blood, and he needed your odor close to him – gods did his chest ache. Astarion would swear on his life his heart wasn’t physically beating right in his chest: he imagined it bruised and broken, fragmented, all its pieces being held by you, leaving behind a shell of a man. 

Astarion lays your clothing on the bed, finding himself clutching your silk panties in his hand. They were white, perfect for one so demure and delicate as his beautiful spawn wife –

Bringing the crotch of your underclothes to his nose, he closes his eyes as he takes in your most intimate scent: but it only makes him feel a deep ache inside, his hardening cock only making matters worse. “I need you, Tav.”

He decides to lose himself in the moment, to escape the looming pain: freeing his member, the warmth of his hand and the fabric of your soft panties has him coming undone quicker than anticipated. His strokes are rough, fast, and he’s imagining your hot, wet mouth wrapped around the base of his cock, his tip reaching the back of your throat. Your eyes would always tear up, but you were such a champion for him –

Astarion lets out a strangled cry as he shoots thick spurts of come, careful not to soil your underclothes, his tears falling before he can stop them. 

Astarion doesn’t understand how this has happened: doesn’t understand how he will begin to fathom that you are gone. He knows he must act soon, but his entire body is aching for you, his hands shaking. His orgasm only made him feel your absence more, and Astarion is cursing himself. 

Suddenly, Astarion remembers the necklace, the warding bond, and he’s grabbing at his throat, only to find the twinkle of the gem had died. Astarion can’t help but imagine you dead, or chained up somewhere, being used – the thought makes him sick.

Moth had you. It was the only person in the world who would take you from him. Astarion had left you alone, and now you were gone, and it was entirely the worst feeling he could recall, other than when Cazador’s blade carved the symphony of the contract into his back. 

Astarion really couldn’t waste anymore time, he decided. He needed to know the specifics of how you were taken and where: he knew about several of Moth’s palaces, and who knows how many more the dragonborn might have, but he may be able to narrow it down if he could get close enough to search for your scent. 

Once Astarion’s recovered, he stuffs your panties into his pocket before gathering your things; he’s interrupted by a brief knock on the door before it swings open. Lae’zel enters, followed by the spawn and your warriors, all ten of them. Astarion hissed at the intrusion, not wanting any of them to muck up the smell of you that still lingered in the room.

Lae’zel immediately notices Astarion’s bloodshot eyes. She remembers something an old hero said, something about vampire lords not being able to love, only craving one thing. The state of her pale friend makes Lae’zel question if what the old hero said was anything more than plain ignorance. 

Their conversation happens in a snapshot, Astarion’s tone lifeless but nonetheless frightening: “This is your fault.”

Lae’zel blinks. “You needn’t be absurd. We are here to help you, Astarion.”

Astarion doesn’t respond for some time; he is thinking about your smile, his deplorable thoughts twisting this precious image to one of your fangs piercing the throat of a dragonborn. Astarion had heard Moth was known for his exotic beauty, and he is seething at the very thought of you caressing scaled skin. 

It was worse if he was taking you by force, if you weren’t enjoying it – that is only the cruelest torture, and Astarion is prepared to tear across realms to prevent this from happening. But if Astarion was being honest with himself, it hurt him more to imagine that you were enjoying your time with this other man. This other vampire…this other lord. ‘He will be her new Master.’ The thought has Astarion crawling in his flesh. He had to have you back, either way. And he was not so proud to deny help, not when it came to you.

“A wizard. We need a good one.” Astarion looked around the room, his hand involuntarily grabbing at the fabric in his pocket, almost as if to check they were still there. He would have to find something else to track you, something of yours that he was willing to part with: your adorable white panties were not one of them.

The gith nod at his request, Lae’zel sending one of the young ones to fetch a shirt of yours.There is something about Astarion’s aura that clears the room, leaving only Lae’zel and the spawn behind, who kneel whenever Astarion is idle. It deeply unsettles Lae’zel, but something about this entire situation felt off to her.

“Is it not strange, to you, that this lord betrays the nature of vampires by taking a spawn he didn’t create?” Lae’zel asks, wiping away a smudge of makeup with a finger. Drenched in sweat and a few tears, It had been a long night for her. Handling Orpheus and the Kith’rak’s reaction to the situation had her reeling: Orpehus was more apt to help, but Elan wanted the vampires gone. Lae’zel and Orpehus had the final say, of course, and she was permitted to continue doing what she was doing: gathering her fighters and spreading her cause in whichever way needed to happen. She couldn’t leave Astarion like this and knew this was the next part of her strange journey.

“It’s not that strange  if you consider the fact that this lord is utterly insane.” Astarion also thought it was rather strange how the Crystalline Spire had no windows, and it made him feel even more closed in. “And I am the only vampire alive who matches him in power. It was only a matter of time before he attempted to take me down.”

“He is a red dragonborn, correct?”

“Yes.”

“It is in their nature to hoard. You’re sure his first name is Geldon? Geldon Moth, the red dragonborn?” Lae’zel’s quizzical tone was beginning to irritate Astarion.

Astarion looked to his spawn. “Up. Gather.” Lae’zel watches uneasily as the two spawn begin to collect the rest of your things. “What do you mean to say?”

“He can’t be much older than you, Astarion. Dragonborn had only been in Toril for hardly two hundred years when you and Tav met.”

“Don’t say her name,” Astarion’s voice was a force that barreled through Lae’zel’s mind, causing her to grab the sides of her head in anguish. The corner of Astarion’s mouth twitches, relishing in the way her heart flutters with fear.

“Do you think I'm an idiot, Lae’zel?” Astarion’s heart is filled with fury, with grief, and Lae’zel backs up to brace herself for a fight. His knees are bent, and he’s nearly crouched, like a predator. “He is only a hundred years older than me. He was named and raised by humans after his parents were slaughtered, and he was created by a vampire far greater than I.”

Astarion pauses, his face softer than Lae’zel had seen before. “Lae’zel. Moth has resources beyond what I’ve amassed. He has a harem of spawn who fight for him, and even more thralls. If I could find the bastard, I could probably take him down myself, but he’s well protected. And he has what is most precious to me. I have to be careful…I have to think.”

But Astarion was having a hard time thinking of anything but you. 

Lae’zel steeled herself, clearly shaken by the situation.”And you have a hoard of gith. And the daylight. And me, of course.” She gave him a weak smile, but it was one Astarion oddly appreciated. He doesn’t return it, but stares at her for what feels like an eternity to Lae’zel before the spawn are kneeling before him once more, prepared for their next task. 

“I must do whatever to get her back. At any cost.”

Lae’zel pauses. There is something she doesn’t understand, something she’s missing: the empty look in Astarion’s eyes gives it away. But she retreats, knowing when to choose her battles. 

“We’re returning home for the time being. Ring me once your witch doctor is done with his tricks.” With that, Lae’zel watches as Astarion turns the corner, disheveled silver curls disappearing at the bend.

“Wait!” Lae’zel runs after him. “Let me come with you, Astarion.”

Astarion turns to her, unable to hide the glassy look in his eyes. He flits through her mind with ease.“You think you still love her. And what you feel for her, Lae’zel, is so very little compared to the bond I share with my wife.”

Lae’zel’s cheeks flush. “My feelings matter not, Astarion. Our friend, Tav, is missing –“ Astarion turns around, but Lae’zel continues, sensing that despite his actions, he was still listening. “I wouldn’t ever leave her behind. Gale, Karlach, Shadowheart, Wyll…none of us would ever have let harm come to her. It will be that way all my life, as it was for theirs.”

Astarion hardly reacts, already leagues away. “Do whatever you want. You know how to find me.” 

****

Astarion isn’t surprised when Lae’zel shows up with five githyanki fighters on her heels; Astarion immediately knows it’s your warriors, the ones whose scents tended to linger on you longer than the others. He meets them in the portal room of your palace, the one the Ancunín’s called home.

“Our mages have yet to find any trace of her on Toril,” Lae’zel’s words inspire only frustration within Astarion. “Astarion, tell me why you cannot sense her on your own.”

Astarion turns, his back to Lae’zel and the others. Silently commanding his spawn to escort the gith out, Lae’zel and Astarion are left alone in his office. He turns to a large painting of you, noticing it having caught Lae’zel’s eye. 

In the picture, you’re looking over your bare shoulder, your long hair cascading down your back. The expression on your face is soft, your plush lips parted in a way that made you look girlish. Your red eyes seemed to follow Lae’zel, who decided she much preferred your old eye color. 

“I’ve had many of her done over the years. That one is my favorite.” This wasn’t true, but Lae’zel didn’t need to know about the collection of lewd paintings Astarion had of you hanging in the boudoir. 

“When was this painting of her done? It’s lovely.” She asks, her tone as steady as her arm.

“Around eight centuries ago.”

“It’s difficult to fathom that much time has passed,” Lae’zel takes a breath in. “You know, I still remember how she reacted on the docks when the tadpole died.”

Astarion flinches at the thought. When the tadpole died, your vampirism became fully actualized; your hunger had become immediately apparent, uncomfortable. Your senses had drastically sharpened, the smell of blood and guts and the sound of beating hearts hitting you all at once. Your eyes widened, filling with tears as your hunger pains wrecked you. Astarion had felt it, your pain, because your vampiric connection had solidified in that moment: it was beautiful, terrifying, and it was then Astarion knew he would always be a slave to you.

Astarion had to take you away from the others, feeding you from his own wrist while doing his best to restrain you until you got your fill. If you were full, your hunger was easy to control – and a vampire’s hunger is everlasting, even if the vampire has special abilities. 

“She didn’t suffer for long that day. I’ve taken care of her from the moment I made her mine,” Astarion narrows his eyes at her, raising his voice as he feels his anger rising. “Why do you bring up the past? What relevance does this have to finding her?”

“You must know where I stand with you, Astarion. I still cannot bring myself to forgive you for turning her into a vampire. For stealing her life, which you so happily did.”

Astarion grimaces before flashing his fangs at her. He hadn’t really the energy to spare. He sighs before he speaks. “I can easily read your mind, Lae’zel. All your pointless words amount to nothing, to me, because I really don’t give a shit. The only thing I care about is getting my wife back. Hats off to you for saying it to my face, I suppose.”

“She was different after that.”

“Still on about that, are we? We both made sacrifices so that we could spend eternity together. That was my promise to her, and I intend to keep it. Let's not waste anymore time.”

****

After a long day of traversing portals across Toril, handling a divide of a once united world, and dealing with the attitude on Lae’zel, Astarion wanted nothing more than to be alone at the end of the day. He had worked through most of the night before Bethild suggested the lord should rest. He had reluctantly agreed.

“Bring me a glass of red, would you?” Astarion didn’t bother to clean his desk: he would be back in just a few hours. 

Bethild hesitated for only a moment. “Of course, my Lord.” The request was an odd one coming from Astarion, but Bethild was good and never questioned him.

Astarion was met with your favorite red wine by the time he arrived at the boudoir. He thought it far too strong and bitter to be drunk before bed, but it did taste like you: right at the fall of night, before you washed away the doings of the day. He swished the wine in his mouth, savoring its sour flavor before he swallowed. 

Astarion can’t help but dwell on what Lae’zel said: how you were different after your turning. This was undeniably true, Astarion himself having experienced it: you were overall less emotional, but more prone to violence, and you enjoyed combat far more than you ever did. But these things had only made Astarion love you more, and your feelings for him only grew, as well. Astarion would know, because he was always watching his darling.

Astarion hadn’t bothered changing since you vanished, and he realized he was still in the extravagant, elegant clothing he had been in at that stupid meeting about the mortal wars. Studying his ensemble, Astarion feels tight all of a sudden, like he buttoned his clothing too tight, or his chest was being crushed, or like he was underwater – drowning. His breathing quickened until the tips of his fingers went numb, and he was surely dying.

But Astarion reasonably knew that he couldn’t actually die like this: but something inside told him he simply wasn’t safe. Astarion grabs at his collar, yanking the buttons free as he easily tears through the fabric, and he doesn’t stop until he’s on his knees, shredded cloth at his feet. Sitting back on his heels, he brings his ring to his lips before losing all composure. His tears are hot and salty, streaming down his cheeks as his arms move to wrap around his waist. When his fingers brush the scar tissue on his back, he flinches away, not even feeling safe in his own body. 

Bringing his hand back to his mouth, Astarion bites his wedding ring, bringing his tongue to the metal, savoring the metallic flavor as he takes a deep breath. He stays like this for some time before gathering himself up. He was a mess, and as he walked to the bathroom to wash up, he caught a glimpse of himself in a vanity mirror.

He wasn’t surprised at his puffy eyes and disheveled hair. Astarion typically gazed into any mirror he could: he adored his reflection, and yours, which had been a triumph of his as a vampire. He was able to give you something that was so cruelly taken from him, and you never had to forget your gorgeous face. 

Astarion gazed heavily into his own eyes, which were the same shade of deep crimson as yours. ‘How rare. How sweet.’ 

Every thought of you burned him, like a double edged sword: to try not thinking of you hurt just as much. Astarion narrows his eyes at himself – even after two millennia of being able to see his reflection, he never got tired of it, but there was something in his expression that was just off. If he looks close enough, if he focuses only on his eyes, he can see you in him…

“I love you, Tav.” But it doesn’t fill the growing void in his chest. The words weren’t a magic spell, even if they felt like it when spoken from your lips. Astarion returns to the bed he once shared with you, your clothes littering the mattress as your beloved vampire desperately tore through your belongings, grabbing anything and everything that smelled like you. 

He should have told you that more. How much he adored you – how much he loved you. How his heart beat only for you, and everything he had in this world was nothing without you. How he felt that even with his ascension, even with everything he’s given you, he still hadn’t given enough.

Astarion stays in reverie while he can – at least until the sun comes up. For now, Astarion simply wants to live in memories of you: your smile, your laugh, your smooth, flawless skin, the pitch of your voice…

Astarion’s tongue was between your lips, your kisses languid and sloppy as the two of you lay naked in bed, silken sheets resting at your hips. Astarion has you on your back; he is perched on his elbow, curls falling out of place as he’s forgotten the world around him.

His tongue sucked and stroked your own, a trail of saliva connecting your lips when he pulled away to look at you. “My treasure…”

Astarion twitches. This had been right before Lae’zel showed up and ruined it all. Astarion goes back further, to a more lewd memory:

Your cunt was sucking his cock in, taking him so relentlessly that he felt like you wouldn’t ever let him go. His hands roamed your body, his fingers stopping to tug at your nipple, the hardening bud sensitive enough to make your back arch just from his touch.

He softly ruts into you, causing a whimper to escape your lips. “Tell me again, my favorite spawn.” Before you could respond, Astarion grasped your jaw with his hand, meeting your eyes to his. “Obey me.”

“I love you, Master Astarion.”

“Tav…” the elf moans, his mind already involuntarily flickering to another memory.

Astarion is perched at a window. He swiftly breaks the lock, entering the house silently, crouching as he approaches a sleeping man. 

The man was tall, muscular, his curly red hair and copper skin immediately having an effect on you. Astarion thought the man rather attractive himself, and permitted you to ask him to bed. He had been invited back to the Ancunín estate many times.

Astarion thinks about the way you cried out the man’s name the last time the three of you were together as he slid the dagger into his throat. The way you run your fingers through the hair on the man’s chest and groin flashes before Astarion’s eyes when the man tries to ask why.

“I won’t share in her heart.”

Astarion opens his eyes, cursing at the wretched memory. He didn't understand why he was dwelling on such things, but the pit in his stomach spoke tenfold: he had never told you the truth about the man’s death, even when you cried after hearing the news of it. He hid the information away from you, one of the few secrets he kept, and it only made his stomach churn to think about it. Astarion shakes these thoughts away as he eases out of the bed and makes his way to the balcony. He breathes in the cool night air, the stars shining bright in the sky as he looks off into the abyss of the city below. 

In the coming days, Astarion would be in agony: he wouldn’t rest, his mind flitting to you every second as his thoughts became single minded, obsessive, like he was on a loop that is purely you. Astarion has music playing in the halls continuously, because he began hearing an echo of your voice throughout the palace, and he really thought himself going mad. 

He would create many more spawn, sending them out into the night to scout for your scent. Astarion himself would do so for days, even returning to the crèche to ensure he hadn’t missed any information, but all roads lead to nowhere.

On the mantle of the fireplace in the grand boudoir, a painting hangs: you lie on your back, your breasts exposed, the expression in your eyes is hungry, wanting, and your lips are parted just enough to see the tip of your fangs. Your arms are overhead, as if you are lounging in a stretch. Your thighs are together, and when Astarion looks at the painting, he imagines spreading them, taking your folds in his mouth and pleasuring you until you’ve come undone around his tongue. Astarion has thousands of memories of you like this, desperate and whimpering for him, and something about knowing he’s fucked you, his eternal bride, far more times than his body count brings comfort to him.

But no amount of memories could replace you. Tears were unbecoming of a vampire lord, and yet they began to feel like second nature to Astarion. 

****

Chapter 1. Chapter 2. Chapter 3. Chapter 4. Chapter 5. Chapter 6.

Masterlist

Next Chapter

[drewscarkeys]

Blinded by the lights

Rare Cameron Imagine

Summary: you’re at a party and a guy tries to take advantage of you, but Rafe (in his POV) was there to step in

Warnings: drink spiking, sexual harassment, fighting/violence

Song -

Music was blaring from all angles, overwhelming you and mixed with all the alcohol you’d drank already caused your head to pound. Everything was a blur at this point, you’d lost track of how many shots you’d taken or how much cheap beer you’d forced down. But judging on how the room was spinning, it was enough to surely make you feel it the next morning.

To the left of you a girl was dancing with a guy, grinding herself against him as if no one else was in the room. Fuck, where was Rafe. You were starting to regret your fight earlier.

He’d pissed you off, confusing you by refusing to define what you guys were. You’d been talking for months and you’d both done everything that could be done and yet… you still felt like he was just going to drop you the second he got bored. But at the same time, he treated you like you were practically his girlfriend. So you couldn’t understand why he wouldn’t just ask you to be his girlfriend. Neither of you were very good communicators and what you didn’t know was he wanted to be with you more than anything, but his fear of commitment forever had a hold over him, always making him hesitate, scared of the pain that would come when you would finally realise you could do so much better than him. It was self destruction at its finest. Because while he was just trying to find a way to show you that you were the thing he cared most about in the world, you were convincing yourself you needed to distance yourself from a guy you assumed was just using you and didn’t want anything serious with you.

You decided you weren’t going to think about anything to do with him that night. You were going to get so wasted you’d forget about everything that had ever caused you stress. Unhealthy coping mechanisms for the win, right?

Dragging your eyes across the room, you realised you couldn’t recognise many people, and the people you could recognise were so fucked out of their minds they were no use having a conversation with. A group of them had their heads down over a table, lifting them back up, now with blown pupils, as they rubbed their noses. That wasn’t something you got into. Rafe, on the other hand… no you needed to stop thinking about him.

You felt a tap on your shoulder and dizzily spun around to be met with a guy you vaguely recognised, but couldn’t quite place his name. He may have been the only vaguely sober person in the whole place so you considered him worth talking to.

“Thirsty?” He questioned, holding up a plastic cup shaking it slightly and grinning.

“Oh…I really shouldn’t…” you slurred, barely able to form the words. You would never, ever do anything with this guy - no matter how much you wanted to forget Rafe. Though you didn’t want to admit it, you loved him too much and couldn’t bring yourself to even consider doing anything with anyone that wasn’t him.

“You’re at a party sweetheart, have a little fun,” he insisted, once again raising the drink towards me.

Something about him calling you sweetheart made your stomach twist as it wasn’t Rafe calling you that, but you couldn’t really process much at that point. One more drink you figured. Then yeah, you’d go home and deal with whatever regrets you had the next day.

“Fuck it,” you mumbled, grabbing the cup and quickly downing it, too out of it to notice the slight weird taste it left in your mouth.

“Let’s go dance!” He shouted over the noise, grabbing your hand with his slightly clammy one and dragging you along with him before you could tell him you didn’t feel like it right now. You tried removing yours from his grip feeling slightly uncomfortable but he was pretty firm in his hold, tugging you through the busy room.

The room was spinning even worse than before, lights blinding your eyes as you pushed past people. You were beginning to regret that last drink.

You danced for a while, desperately trying to ignore the guy that was starting to make you really uncomfortable, every step you took, moving slightly further away from him, trying to regain your personal space. The room was so warm, unbearably warm and you felt your head cloud more so than you’d ever felt before, even when you were the drunkest you’d ever been. Your heart was beating fucking fast. The annoying LED lights fixed around the room flashed aggressively and you forced yourself to take deep breaths to avoid throwing up. His hands suddenly grabbed at your hips, trying to push your body against his and you pushed him away harshly.

“Get the fuck away from me!” You tried to shout, but were shocked to hear how slurred the words were, barely making sense. You couldn’t even speak you were so gone.

You wanted to get the fuck out of this house now and away from this fucking weirdo.

But just as you had decided to leave, you felt your vision tinge with darkness, eyes rolling back as your consciousness faded in and out. Everything was so blurred and dizzy and you knew something was really, really wrong.

Oh fuck. What was in that drink. No no no. This can’t be happening, you thought.

Something was tugging your hand and, desperately hoping one of your friends had found you, you followed unable to do anything else with stumbling steps as your legs began to give out. What the fuck was going on. Where was Rafe. You felt so scared and you just needed him right now. You felt someone wrap their arm around your waist to harshly support your collapsing body and continued to move you in the direction of what you could barely make out as a staircase leading upstairs. Your head was rolling back when your neck could no longer support its weight and you stared at the spinning ceiling, trying to make your thoughts connect.

It felt like you were being carried now. Maybe? Nothing was certain at that point. You just wanted to go home.

You heard muffled shouts in the background but you couldn’t tell whether it was the music or if a fight had broken out. Just as the noise had begun, you felt a strange shock sensation run through your body and the wind knocked out of your lungs. Something like pain ran through your body but it was hard to make out through the numbness. The last thing you could remember was resting your face on the soft carpet as your consciousness finally shut down completely and noise buzzed in the background.

~~~

Rafe’s POV:

“Fuckkk,” he groaned, doing another line. Why the fuck did he have to be such a dick earlier? He knew he was wrong and what made it worse was that he wanted to have something more with you. It was such a stupid, unnecessary argument that you guys had earlier. But thanks to the both of you being so strong-headed and stubborn, the second you both arrived at the party after a very silent car ride, you’d split ways to go off with your friends and drink your problems away. Or in Rafe’s case, use a bit more than just alcohol.

Thankfully the coke had kicked in and his stress melted away as he rode the high that took over him. He was surrounded by a group of people also doing the same as him while the majority of everyone at the party was either dancing to the shitty music playing over the speakers or were drinking the shitty, warm beer that some idiot forgot to put in a cooler. There were so many fucking creeps in this place and for a second his mind drifted to you. He knew he should go check up on you.

Yeah, alright, he thought, beginning to lift himself up from the couch.

“Yo Rafe, where the fuck you going man?” Kelce exclaimed, and he attempted, but failed miserably, to subtly motion to the girls sat around him. Rafe had stupidly agreed to be Kelce’s wingman for the night, after losing a bet that he’d somehow agreed to.

He glared at Kelce but nonetheless sat back down, deciding to stay for 5 more minutes of this torture before he’d find you and inevitably give in and apologise. He could only last so long without hearing your voice or feeling your touch. This made him hate Kelce even more in that moment for coming in between him and you, preventing him from getting the rush of dopamine he felt whenever he was around you. He swore on everything it was better than any drug he could take. Something about you drove him insane, causing him to feel things so strong he wanted to run from them, feeling undeserving of the infinite amount of love you gave him.

He couldn’t even understand why Kelce had asked him to stay, considering he refused to say a word to any girl that wasn’t you, choosing to have his face stuck in a permanent scowl. By some miracle, Kelce had managed to convince one of the girls he was talking to, to go upstairs with him to one of the rooms and do fuck knows what. At least it was Kelce’s fucking house, that was the only relatively alright thing about the whole situation.

But with Kelce gone, Rafe could finally go find you.

He harshly pushed himself off the couch and ran his hand down his face, starting to slightly regret doing any coke. He knew how much you hated him doing it but he was being petty after your argument and even though he knew better, gave into the urge. He had actually been doing pretty well recently. Thanks to you.

You, you, you. That’s all that ran though his mind as he scanned his eyes around the room but to his disappointment he couldn’t find you anywhere.

“Topper!” He shouted over the blaring music as he saw him across the room. He quickly made his way over to him and grabbed his shoulder spinning him around.

“You seen my girl anywhere?” He asked, to which Topper gave him a pissed off look for interrupting his conversation with a girl he was clearly hoping to sleep with.

Fuck, I need to get better friends, Rafe thought.

“No man I haven’t seen her” he replied curtly before turning his attention back to the girl who seemed bored out of her mind.

Rafe was beginning to grow a bit paranoid that something had happened to you but he pushed the feelings down for now, trying not to stress himself out too much.

“Uh… Rafe?” A voice behind him hesitantly asked.

He turned around and looked down at a girl looking up at him, looking pretty concerned.

“What?” He asked, probably a bit too aggressively but he was so sick of this night and just wanted to find you so he could go home.

“We were just dancing,” she started slightly unsure of him, till she shook it off and spoke more confidently, a sense of urgency in her voice, “I just saw Y/N shouting at this guy to get away from her and she looked really fucking out of it, something seemed off and-”

“Where the fuck is she?” He demanded, his heart racing at the thought of this guy bothering you enough to shout at him.

“The last I saw was him taking her towards the stairs, I didn’t know what to do, I’m sor-”

Before she could even finish her sentence he’d spun around and literally wrenched Topper away from the girl by his arm. He was about to complain before he saw the pure panic on Rafe’s face and realised something was seriously wrong.

“Some motherfucker is taking her upstairs,” he said, barely getting all the words out coherently he was speaking so fast and had already turned around before Topper could reply. Not that he needed to say anything. He knew the only person in Rafe’s life that would elicit this kind of reaction from him was you.

Rafe was halfway across the room before Topper had a chance to react, literally shoving people to the side in order to work his way through everyone. Topper quickly followed his lead and they both stormed towards the staircase, Rafe taking the steps 2 - even 3 - at a time.

Pure, blinding rage took over him as he saw you in the arms of the most pathetic excuse for a man and he couldn’t hold himself back.

“You motherfucker,” he said in the most threatening, disgusted tone, causing the guy to shout in shock and spin around, so scared to the point where he accidentally dropped you, causing your body to hit the floor with a sickening thud that made Rafe’s stomach drop so much he felt like he was going to be sick.

Rafe couldn’t take it anymore. All he could see was red as he slammed the guy against the wall and sent his fist crashing against the guy’s face, causing his nose to make a disgusting crunching noise as it collapsed against the impact and sprayed crimson blood against the once unmarked white walls and he lay there whimpering and snivelling, clutching his face in pain as blood streamed from his flattened nose.

It took all of Rafe’s strength to pull himself off that piece of shit and take a few shaky steps back, his body pumping with intense adrenaline and anger.

“Topper. Deal with this.” He managed to get out before turning his undivided attention to you lying on the floor. No matter how much he wanted to quite literally beat that guy to death with his bare hands, he cared more about you in that moment. You would always come first to him.

“Oh my god.” He whispered, raising a shaky hand towards your face and brushing your hair out the way. So much guilt consumed him. He couldn’t help but blame himself for what happened. If he hadn’t argued with you maybe you wouldn’t be unconscious, lying on a carpet while just metres away Topper was beating the shit out of the guy that was about to do unspeakable things to you.

With the hand that wasn’t covered in blood, he checked your pulse to make sure the situation wasn’t even worse than it already was. For what felt like an eternity, Rafe waited till he had his fingers in the right position against your neck to finally feel a pulse. He almost felt like crying once he found it and gently lifted your motionless body into his arms, holding you as close as he could.

“Topper, I’m taking her to the hospital right now,” he stated, “once you’re done with him, call the police and explain what happened.”

“I’ll take care of it man, don’t worry. Let me know she’s ok, yeah?” He asked, knowing how much Rafe cared about you and that by being Rafe’s friend meant he cared about you too.

Rafe quickly carried your downstairs but went out the back door to avoid exposing you to anyone while you were in this state, not wanting what happened to get out until you could tell your side of things first.

He lifted your unconscious body up into the passenger seat of his car and carefully pulled your safety belt on, clicking it into place, before he rushed over to the drivers side and jumped in, starting the ignition and driving to the nearest hospital to get you checked and make sure you were ok.

~~~

Your POV:

The smell of bleach and disinfectant overwhelmed your senses and you could barely open your eyes due to the piercing white light that stunned you. You groaned, rolling over, and lifted your hand to your face to shield yourself from the light that was making your head throb painfully.

“Y/N?” You heard a familiar voice exclaim.

You forced yourself to fully open your eyes and you were met with your favourite sight: Rafe motherfucking Cameron. He was looking down at you from the left side of what appears to be a hospital bed that you are lying in, his blue eyes filled with concern.

“How are you feeling? You ok? Can I get you anything?” He rambled, both worried about you but also filled with happiness that you’d woken up.

You laughed softly at his many questions and instead of answering, you carefully pushed yourself up and wrapped your arms around him, just needing him to hold you.

Immediately, he wrapped his arms around you, holding you like you were glass, scared of doing anything that would hurt you. He didn’t stay for long though and quickly pulled away causing you to frown and open your mouth to complain. Before you could say a word he placed his finger on your lips.

“I’m just getting a nurse real quick baby, then we can get you home as soon as possible,” he reasoned with you, laughing when you frowned again before placing a soft kiss on your forehead and left the room.

Now that you had time to think, you wondered what you were doing in a hospital bed. And then you regretted wondering, as everything from the previous night hit you like a punch to the stomach, causing your breathing to hitch and falter.

Fuck.

Did he…? You could barely remember anything. Did Rafe find you? Was he in time before anything could happen? You had so many questions and you were beginning to feel claustrophobic in this white, sterile hospital room.

The sound of the door opening cut off your spiralling thoughts and the sight of Rafe instantly calmed you down a bit. He was followed by a nurse who smiled at you, her eyes filled with kindness and slight concern which made sense considering the circumstances you were in.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Amanda, I’m just here to check up on you and see how you’re doing, if that’s alright?” She asked you, holding a clipboard with your name written on the top.

You sat up and quickly cleared your throat, “yeah, that’s fine.”

“Perfect, we’ll get started then!”

She busied herself checking your blood pressure and blood sugar and did a few other tests that you didn’t know the purpose of. When she was finally finished, she called a doctor in who checked through the clipboard of my information and dismissed her to go look after other patients.

The doctor looked at me with slight apprehension as she sat down on the chair.

“Hi Y/N, I’m Doctor Marshall,” she introduced herself, “now before we let you go today, due to the circumstances of your situation we just have to ask you a few questions regarding why you’re in here.”

You looked at Rafe, not really wanting to confront everything that happened quite yet, still a bit freaked out. He reached out and slipped his hand into yours, rubbing calming circles into your palm.

“Um…ok,” you replied hesitantly.

“Now we don’t have to do anything immediate if you don’t want to, it’s completely up to you how you proceed with this, but I first have to check if you remember what happened last night?”

“Yeah…ok. Um. I don’t really remember much,” you started, not really wanting to relive what had happened so soon but knowing it was necessary, “but I remember taking a drink from a guy.”

You cringed at how stupid that sounded after being constantly warned not to take drinks from strangers, but instead of looking judgemental, the doctor looked back at you with nothing but intense concentration on what you were saying.

You continued, “and then I danced for a bit, but the guy wasn’t leaving me alone and he was making me uncomfortable. I remember shouting at him, I think, and then after that its just really blurred and kinda merges into one.” You finished, looking down at your lap as you messed with Rafe’s hand which you’d been holding the entire time.

“Again, don’t feel like you have to answer but is there anything else you can remember?” She questioned calmly.

“I remember being carried, I think. Oh yeah, I remember the guy that gave me the drink tried to push me against him at one point while I was dancing,” you shuddered at the memory, but continued, “and then when everything started getting really dizzy I remember being dragged by someone. And that’s when they started carrying me. I can’t remember if it was him or not though.”

Weirdly the more you spoke about it, the less overwhelming everything seemed. No one was blaming you or thinking you were stupid. They just wanted to help you and it made you feel safe.

“Alright, well, we’ve already spoken to your boyfriend,” she replied, not noticing the way your eyebrows raised at her calling Rafe your boyfriend, “and obviously when you’re ready and only if you want to, you can talk to the police about what happened and make sure that the guy that did this will have consequences for his actions. You are not the one at fault here.”

She stood up and was about to sign you off to go home before seemingly remembering something, “oh and one more thing, we haven’t contacted your parents seeing as you are over 18 years old and your boyfriend advised against it, so just letting you know they aren’t aware of what has happened,”

“I appreciate that,” you replied, not about to get into why you didn’t want your parents knowing and how your relationship with them was… shaky at best.

“Ok, now that’s all sorted, you’re free to go. Obviously if you feel worse, give us a call but other than that you should be all good” she smiled at you.

“Thank you so much for everything,” you said gratefully, relieved that you were ok and could finally go home.

Rafe helped you up from the bed and immediately held your hand tightly in his, not wanting to let go of you or let you out of his sight. Once you reached his car, he opened the door and was about to lift you onto the seat when you grabbed his hand, grinning slightly.

“I’m ok, I promise. I can get into a seat on my own without breaking.” You joked, so appreciative of him wanting to help you but also feeling slightly babied. You wanted to prove that you were still yourself and that things were normal even after what had happened.

“Ok” he whispered next to your ear, sending butterflies fluttering through your stomach.

You jumped in and he shut the door before moving over to the drivers side and sitting down himself.

By the time he’d driven to home to his house, it was already dark and you felt slightly time disoriented, not sure how long you’d been on the hospital for.

Not even giving you the chance to do it yourself, Rafe had already opened your door, holding out his hand to help you down from his truck, but to your surprise, instead of letting go, he carefully pulled you into his chest, resting his chin on your head.

Nothing needed to be said. You were both pretty shaken up after what had happened and you just needed each others company.

No one else seemed to be home right now - not that it would’ve mattered, you were basically considered part of the family at this point with how much time you spent with Rafe - and he lead you through the silent house up to his room.

He went very quiet all of a sudden, a weird look taking over his face and you looked up at him confused as to why he was acting weird.

“What’s wrong?” You asked softly, leading him over to the bed so you could sit down and talk.

“I just-,” he cut himself off and took a deep breath, looking at you with sad eyes as he began speaking again, “I’m so sorry you had to go through that Y/N. I should’ve been there. I should’ve stopped anything like that from happeni-”

“Nope.” You stated, causing him to stop mid sentence, looking at you confused, “we aren’t doing that. Just as much as it wasn’t my fault what happened, it isn’t yours either. I’m not going to let you sit there and blame yourself when you’re the one who stopped anything more from happening.”

He paused, unsure of what to say for a moment.

“I don’t deserve you.” He muttered, shaking his head as he grazed his nose against mine, “but for some reason my heart has chosen to fall so in love with you it hurts. And it scares me, fuck, it scares me Y/N. I don’t want to hurt you,” he whispered, holding his hand up to cup my face, rubbing my cheek with his thumb, “but I don’t care anymore. I love you. That’s the truth and I need to tell you that even if it terrifies me because you deserve so much love.”

You stared at him shocked at what he was saying. You couldn’t even form words. Instead you wrapped your arms around his neck and kissed him, trying to convey all the intense emotions you were feeling in that moment through a single kiss.

“I love you,” you whispered back, causing him to inhale sharply and squeeze your waist.

“I love you,” he whispered back to me again.

“I love you,” you laughed, realising this wasn’t going to end any time soon.

“I’ll never get sick of hearing you say that,” he grinned, as he held you even tighter to him.

He’d never felt this way about anyone before. And he didn’t think he’d ever feel this way again. You were it for up him. And he loved you so much.

[leesmustardgarden]

Meet-cute Through a Window (Though it Shouldn’t be Possible)

Warnings: mentions of canon typical violence, mentions of plague, a bit of swearing (couldn’t help myself, really), good ol puppet fear, I love P so much he’s so everything to me

P x (gn) reader

In the ruins of an ever rotting city, love is the last thing you’d expect to find. Rubble cannot foster the gentleness love necessitates, nor can it pretend to. In the ticking heart of a special puppet, filled with oil and ergo ever pulsing, love finds a way to fester. Pinocchio proves to be an exception to many things, and in loving you he has become an exception to the very notion that love cannot find purchase on the ledge of a burning society.

You meet through a window tucked away in the far corners of Krat, one you’d thought to be hidden from the puppet frenzy. It had been your honest mistake; a moment of forgetfulness wherein you peaked through the curtains and found yourself under his curious blue eyes. Crystalline and shining, they shocked you frozen to the spot. Any initial noise you might have let out dies with a weak flutter in your throat and you beg internally for this person to be a person and not a puppet.

A small whirr fills the air in the next second and your heart drops into your stomach. His expression is unchanging even in the face of your panic, but his shoulders sag (—holy shit is that a sword on his back?) in something like surrender and he tilts his head.

If you didn’t know any better, he might have just looked like a curious, yet apathetic boy peering at you through your window. With the sword on his back and the gentle whirr that rings in the silence, it’s hard not to know better. Never mind whatever the fuck is on his metal arm, you’re just ignoring that for the time being or you’re sure to go mental.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” He whispers at the same time you say, “Please don’t kill me.”

If he’s surprised or hurt by what you say, he doesn’t (or probably can’t) show it. The words are muffled through the glass, but you’ve trained your ears to hear through the small opening at the bottom. He holds both palms open and says nothing else.

You… want to trust him, really. More than just the fact that his eyes are so pretty they shine like a fantastic lake straight out of a story book; or that his freckles paint him like an old, long dead painter might have painted the stars. You want to trust him in the open and gentle way he seems to offer up his hands and promise you more than what the rest of Krat has since the frenzy.

In the rubble of a burning city crashing in on itself, there is not a speck of gentleness to be spared. This— puppet has it in spades, and it draws you out of your panic just enough to pull the window open bit by bit. You do not break his gaze for a moment as you tug it up and open, and he is patient enough not to be the first to do so. Instead, he stretches a hand out to you and waits for your warm skin to meet the cold smooth synthetic surface of his own non-legion hand.

It would be just your luck if somehow puppets learned how to lie, too, but something tells you he means it wholly and honestly when he insists he will not hurt you. The whirring picks up gently, almost imperceptibly quicker, but you don’t pay it any mind. The edges of your instincts are sharp with distrust, but you lay your hand and life in the hands of this puppet and find yourself minding it less and less with each second.

A loaded pause passes— you stare down at your hands barely touching and he watches you with that same, frozen expression. You thickly swallow before you wrap your fingers around his hand and look up right into those beautiful blues.

“Would you… like to come in?”

Now, you don’t have much experience in how to fuel (feed?) an automaton; wasn’t your job before the frenzy and certainly hasn’t become since, but you could learn. It’s a silly thought to have, but you haven’t had a guest in god knows how long and a sharing a cup of tea sounds lovely (if puppets could even have tea). And — sure, maybe openly inviting the literal enemy of every human being in Krat into your house isn’t the smartest thing to do, but you can’t help it. More than just his pretty face, his gentle hand caresses yours so softly and the nod he gives is so warm that in the loneliness of having been the last sentient thing in the area, you couldn’t help but falter.

The world around you tastes of ash and rubble, but you meet someone who seems to bring about a breath of fresh air. His eyes are bright like ergo, and his hair fluffs like a black cloud. When he nods ever softly, something whirrs and clicks in the air. Your heart pounds against your ribs, and you don’t know if it’s really out of fear anymore.

Your world ended in a frenzied flurry of plague and massacre; it started again when you peaked through your window and met him.

[specialagentlokitty]

Carlisle x reader - always

hi! can i request where carlisle is married to reader who’s a mikaelson and the other cullens call her mom. then when the war between the volturi she was there with the other mikaelsons (to protect the cullens and others) and they’re just being the badass siblings like they are?? - Anon💜

You were away visiting your siblings when you got the phone call that you had to come home as soon as possible.

The Volturi were at it again, and this time it was aimed directly and Renesme, they were going after an innocent child and you were furious.

Throwing your stuff in your bag, you grabbed your keys and rushed towards the front door.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Rebekah asked.

She’s never seen you in such a hurry, not unless there was someone you love in trouble.

“Carlisle’s family are in danger.”

“Volturi?” Elijah asked.

You nodded your head and he sighed, grabbing his jacket and he pulled it on.

“Niklaus let’s go!” Elijah called out.

“Where too?”

You looked at your twin and explained everything to him and he growled lowly, grabbing his car keys as well.

“Kol we’re going let’s go!” He shouted.

Your other brother came rushing out and they followed you.

You didn’t have much time, and you didn’t care about the stupid laws about driving, you easily got out of every situation.

You had states to cross, and you needed to be sure that you were going ti be on time, because if you weren’t who knows what aro and his goons were going to do.

“How long do we have?” Elijah asked.

You flicked your gaze over to him and shrugged slightly.

“I don’t know, I haven’t heard from Carlisle since he asked me to come home.”

Elijah have you a gentle smile.

“He’ll be okay.”

“I can’t be sure about that, he’ll do anything for his coven, even if it means putting his life at risk and I can’t let him do that.”

Elijah nodded his head.

He knew how much you loved Carlisle, sure, they weren’t vampires quite like you lot were, they were a result of the mutation in the vampires venom somewhere along the way, but they were similar.

You finally got to forks and you rushed into the house to find it empty, but it reeked of many other vampires.

“Where to?” Kol smirked.

He wanted a bit of violence, he was always down to fight, kill, especially if it was for you.

“Here this was left on the table.” Klaus said walking through.

He handed you the letter and you slowly opened it.

‘(Y/N), my love. I’m unsure if you’ll get this on time, but come to the clearing where I first told you I loved you. Please hurry.’

You looked at your family and narrowed your eyes a little bit.

“Let’s go.”

It only took minutes to get there, and when you did everyone turned to you all.

There was whispers among both sides.

“Impossible!” Cauis yelled.

You marched right through the side that had gathered to help your family, and right over to the middle of the field.

“Hello Cauis.” You snarled.

“Why are you here dearest (Y/N)?” Aro smiled.

“To rip you limb from limb obviously.” Kol grinned.

Aro stepped back just a tiny bit, but you noticed.

You could see the fear in the Volturi.

“Kol.” Elijah warned.

Klaus stepped by your side and he snarled, staring down the group of vampires in front of you all.

“You are not the kings of this world, you have no right to decide what rules should be followed!” He bellowed.

“And you do?!” Cauis yelled back.

You stepped forward this time, making them shrink back under the sheer cold fury of your gaze.

“Yes! We are the originals! And you will bow down to us!”

The Volturi shared a look, some knelt, but others didn’t.

“SHE SAID BOW DOWN!” Kol screamed.

Everyone else immediately dropped, including the self proclaimed kings of the vampire world.

You waltzed over and crouched down, giving them a twisted smirk which made them shiver as your eyes turned red.

“If you ever dare lay a hand on the Cullens, or step out of line once more I’ll make your death the most painful thing you’ve ever experienced…” you snarled.

Kicking aro back, you tossed Cauis in the same direction and turned to Marcus.

“Leave.”

“Of course…”

He bowed his head in respect and soon enough the group was gone and you turned around to your siblings.

“We can always chase them.” Kol grinned.

“Leave them, if they step out of line again then do it.”

He nodded his head.

You looked past them and the smile and laughing group celebrating their victory.

“You came…” Carlisle whispered.

You ran over and stood in front of him, giving him a soft smile as you reached out and gently touched his cheek.

“Of course I did love, I’m sorry it took so long.”

Carlisle leant into your touch and shook his head at you.

“No, it’s okay. I’m glad you made it.”

He quickly pulled you in for a hug and held you tightly, you laughed and hugged him back.

Your siblings came over and all stood watching the scene play out.

Sure, they were your family.

But so we’re the Cullens.

“Thank you mom.” Edward smiled.

You looked over at him and winked.

“You’re all part of the Mikaelson family.” You said.

“And we Mikaelsons stick together.” Rebekah grinned.

Yeah, they were part of the original family now, it was going to take some time to get used to, but they had never felt more protected

[farity]

In the Red of Night, part 4

You saw a blur, heard a choked off sound.  And then Aemond had his hand wrapped around the man’s throat and was lifting him off the chair.  Your favorite reading chair.  That you would have to burn in the near future.

“Aemond,” you managed, your voice smaller than usual, and he turned.

His eyes.  They had gone even darker than before it that was possible, and his cheekbones, they looked like the skin had stretched sharply across them, red slashes across the pale skin.

The man made a sound and Aemond dropped him back onto the chair.  “You will never go near her again.”

His voice, usually soft, had a rasp to it that made you think of violence.  

And sex.

You shook your head, disgusted with yourself.  “How the hell are you here?”

The man, despite the circumstances, smiled at you.  “My dad bailed me out.  So I could see you.  I was,” he stopped, looked down at his limp cock, “I was getting ready for you.”

“Does your building have a way out the back?” Aemond asked.

You nodded.  “Stairs across from the lift.”

Without another word, Aemond lifted the man by the throat, and this time walked out your door.  He didn’t seem to be struggling as he carried a full grown man and you didn’t think, you just went after him.

“Stay home,” he said, and when you kept walking, he shook his head and cursed.  

You followed as he walked down, the man’s feet hitting every step as he clawed at Aemond’s hand, trying to free himself.  When you reached the back exit of the building, you watched as Aemond let the man fall to the ground.

“But I love you,” he rasped out, breathing heavily as he tried to reach for you.  “why can’t you see that?”

Aemond closed his eyes and you could see his fists at his sides, tightly closed in an attempt to calm himself down.

“I don’t care if you’ve been fucking this guy,” the man continued, “once you’re mine there will be no one else-”

You heard an animal growl and then, everything happened at once.  You’d never believed people when they said everything was like in slow motion.  Until now.

Aemond turned, and then he and the man were standing against the wall.  It looked for a few seconds like Aemond was talking in the man’s ear, but then-

Oh.

The man went limp and slid ever so slowly down the wall, and Aemond stayed with his back to you, his tall, lean form as still as the man was on the ground.

“Aemond.”

“I would tell you to stay back, but I already know you don’t fucking listen.”

The fear, the shock, the rush of being near Aemond, it all became too much and you burst out laughing.

And then Aemond turned around.

He ran a hand across his mouth but he didn’t wipe away all of it.

There was blood on his face, across his jaw, on the back of his hand.  And when you looked down, there was so much of it on the man’s throat.

You pressed a hand to your mouth, both to try and stop your laughter and in horror at the scene before you, and you felt like you were moving through water.  You looked back at Aemond, who took a step toward you.

“I do not mean you any harm.”

You shook your head, unable to form any words.  There was one in your head.  The only one that could possibly describe him, and yet you could not make it make sense.  

You’d seen the name on his credit card, of course, but the myths said his family was intertwined with dragons, not- not this.  And it was all bullshit, wasn’t it?  Bullshit the family had always encouraged because it served them.  Until it didn’t and now no one knew how many real Targaryens were left out there.  Some people even changed their last names and dyed their hair to pretend to be some distant relative.  Between the Targaryens and the Romanovs, there were always people wanting to be something they weren’t.  

You’d never asked Aemond about it, because a) he was quiet and kept to himself, and b) it was none of your fucking business if he was or wasn’t some long lost Targaryen.

“Are you going to say something?”

Aemond’s voice, the voice you knew from your conversations at your shop, snapped you out of your reverie.

You raised your hand and pointed to your jaw.  “You have some, uh, stuff, on your face.”

He nodded slowly.  “I will be back shortly.  Go back upstairs.”

He disappeared with the man and you did the only thing you could do, because he was already gone.

You went back upstairs.

* * * * * 

When Aemond knocked on her door, he wasn’t quite sure what to expect.  She had seemed to still be in shock and he sighed, cursing himself for adding to the horrible day she had already endured.  

She opened the door and stepped back to let him in.  "Do you even need an invitation?”

He shook his head.  

She closed the door behind him and locked it and he felt an absurd amount of relief.  “I want to know everything,” she said, and sat on her sofa, her hands folded primly on her lap.

He took the chair across from her.  “How much do you know about the Targaryens?”

She reached out to grab her water bottle and he saw that despite her poised and controlled appearance, her hands were shaking.

“I meant what I said earlier, I mean you no harm.” When her expression didn’t change, he felt a flutter of something.  Worry?  He wasn’t sure.  “I never have.”

She took a sip of water.  “I suppose if you did, I wouldn’t be around to tell the tale,” she said evenly.  “I know about Aegon the Conqueror and his sister-wives,” she said, raising her eyebrows, then looked at him with wide eyes.  “Are you married to your sister?”

Aemond smiled, unable to help himself.  “No.”

“Are you named after Aemond the Kinslayer?” she asked next, and his heart sank.  

He said nothing, and she continued to look at him, and then smiled in disbelief.  “Didn’t he lose an eye or was that someone else?”

“Yes.”

She licked her lips and took a deep breath.  “Look, if you’re going to give me one word answers we are going to be here all night and I’ve already had a really shitty day, okay?”

He could see it happening.  What did they call it?  The five stages of grief or something?  She had been in shock, then there would be denial, anger, something else.  But she was right, he did owe her more.

“Yes, I did lose an eye when my cousin slashed my face during a fight.”

She said nothing.

“But when a vampire witch decided to turn me, she convinced me by healing my eye first.  Or creating a new one, I am not quite sure as all I remember is pain.”

She was so quiet, he feared she would never speak again, and he leaned forward.  When she jumped back, he immediately raised his hands.

“Please,” he said.  “I will tell you anything you want, but please know you have nothing to fear from me.”

“Are there others like you?  Like the vampire witch?”

“Not many, but yes.  She calls every once in a while.  She’s not happy I won’t go back to her.”

She tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.  “Why aren’t you with her?”

“Because she is . . . “ he thought about it.  “She wants power.  She thought she’d use me to get it.  Now I think it’s more like, no one leaves her, and I did, so she wants me back.  Probably so she can leave me instead.  Or kill me.”

She looked down at her hands.  “What did you do to that guy?”

Her voice was so quiet he was sure he wouldn’t have heard it if it weren’t for what he was.  “I think you know,” he said.

She stood, suddenly, “I want you to fucking tell me!”  

She was glaring at him, her breathing hard, her lips pressed together, and he wanted, he just wanted to wrap himself around her, to hold her, and he knew it was the last thing she would allow right now.

Aemond stayed where he was, but nodded slowly.  “I drained him of all his blood, then I disposed of his body where he will never be found.  If you will allow me, I will go through your bedroom and remove any evidence, otherwise, I would urge you to do it yourself.  We do not know who might know he was on his way here and-”

The water bottle hit him in the chest, splashing his face.  He didn’t move, and she grabbed a book and threw that next.  There were tears in her eyes and he sat there, watching as she worked herself up.  She was going to start screaming and he could not let her do that, so when she opened her mouth, he rushed to her and covered her mouth, holding her back against him.  

She screamed against his palm, grabbed at his hand to pull it away and screamed again when it didn’t move an inch.  

“I am sorry,” he repeated, holding her so that she wouldn’t hurt herself but she was relentless, kicking back at him and trying to turn in his arms, so he turned her around himself, and before he could stop her, she was pressing her mouth to his.

He grabbed her face to push her away, and instead found himself demanding entrance to her mouth.  She opened for him, so willing and warm, and her fingers were grabbing his sweater, pulling him closer.  She was mad to be courting disaster like this, but the taste of her was like golden honey on his tongue, coating the metallic remnants of blood.  

One moment of sanity made him surface and he pulled away.  She looked dazed, her mouth rosy and swollen, her hands still fisted in his clothes.  “No,” he breathed out.  “You don’t know what you want.”

“I’m not a fucking child,” she snapped and then closed her eyes.  “Fine.  Get out, then.”  she turned and took a step away from him.

Aemond cursed and reached out to grab her and pull her back and when she wrapped her arms around his neck he lifted her up and kissed her, one hand on her ass, the other on the back of her head, and began walking to her bedroom.

He felt her fingers delving into his hair, caressing his face as he continued to kiss her, placing her on her neatly made bed.  He managed to pull back, “tell me you want this, I need to hear the words.”

She let her head fall back, moaning in frustration.  “Really?  I thought I was being pretty obvious,” she panted, but she reached up to brush her fingertips along his jaw.  “I want you.  I’ve wanted you for a long time.” And then she sat up and pulled off her shirt, looking down at her breasts and her plain black bra.  When she looked back up at him, her eyes were wide and he could no longer resist her.

“I want you, too,” he murmured, “I haven’t wanted someone like this in-” he swallowed, and reached for her.

* * * * * 

For a moment, you thought he was going to leave, but then you felt him reach behind you, the clasp of your bra releasing and you shivered as he gently pulled the garment off of you.  You hadn’t been with anyone in a while, and you wished your bra was prettier, your breasts bigger, but then he was taking one nipple in his mouth and you forgot all about your imagined deficiencies because what he was doing with his lips and tongue was making your head swirl.  Again you sank your fingers into his hair, so incredibly soft, his skin so smooth, and arched against him, wanting more. 

He let go of your breast and began pulling down your leggings and underwear, and then you were bare before him.  Before you could start worrying about some other body image bullshit, he was pulling off his sweater and your mouth went dry at the sight of him.  

“It is rude to stare,” he said, and then leaned down to kiss you.

Fine, you thought, if you couldn’t look, then you would touch, and let your hands roam over his shoulders and back, feeling the power in his lean muscles.  You had dreamed of this, and feeling his skin against yours was even better than anything your imagination could come up with.  When he let his weight rest between your spread thighs, you felt him, hard against your belly, and rolled your hips.

Aemond gasped against your mouth, and you smiled before you reached for the button on his jeans.  He let you undo it and then shoved the rest of his clothes off before coming back to you.  “I do not get diseases, and I cannot get you pregnant, but I have thought about all the things I want to do to you,” he said,  “will you let me?”

You looked up at him, “anything,” you murmured, “everything.”

He raised an eyebrow, “I will remind you of that.”  And with that, he slid down and fastened his mouth between your legs.  His hands held your thighs open while you grabbed at the bedspread in desperation.  His tongue circled relentlessly, driving you higher and higher.  It was going to be fast and brutal, and as the lashings of pleasure began tearing through you, you moaned loudly, your legs shaking until you realized he was not stopping, he was not merely working you through your orgasm.  He was working you up to the next one.  

It was that realization that made you come a second time, and when he pushed two fingers inside you, you reached for his hair, unsure if you wanted to push him away or hold him in place.  It was all too much and yet you reached for more, letting Aemond do as he wanted, because whatever it is the he wished to do, you had no plans to stop him.

* * * * * 

Eventually he leaves her, trembling and panting on the bed, and he goes to clean up.  He doesn’t know her well enough to know what she is okay with, so when he comes back, he takes her in his arms and kisses her, feeling her soft and pliant against him.  He wants her so badly, wants to sink into her, and yes, wants to taste her blood as well.  Some other time, he tells himself, when she knows what she is agreeing to, when she is sure and not in shock from a vicious day.

He nudges at her entrance and she gasps, but reaches for him, her eyes still half closed.  When he begins pushing inside her, he needs a moment because she is so hot and swollen from all the stimulation that he nearly comes when he’s barely an inch inside her.  

“Aemond,” she says softly, and he looks down at her, the small smile on her lips, “do you want to drink from me?”

He goes very still.  She blinks a couple of times and he shakes his head, and pushes in further, making her gasp.  

He decides he will not drink from her now, and kisses her before she can offer again.  She feels amazing, and he has to restrain himself from simply burying himself in her in one thrust.  He wants to savor her, every little gasp and the way she bites down on her lower lip.  

“Please, Aemond,” she says, and he loses his restraint, snapping his hips.  She sinks her nails into his back and moves her legs up to wrap around his waist, pulling him in even deeper.  “God, yes,” she whispers, and he wants to tell her there are no gods, there never were, and he pulls back instead, almost until he is completely out of her, before he slams back inside her.  She moans, her face flushed, and he starts snapping his hips, watching her every reaction, letting the noises she makes feed the need inside him.

He can tell she is about to come, her unsteady breathing and the way she rocks her hips to meet him tell him she is almost there, so he reaches between them, his thumb finding her, circling on her slick flesh to drive her over the edge.  She cries out and he feels her clenching around him, her body arching off the bed, and he wants to feel every contraction, every tremor of her legs.  It is a soft graze of her fingers on his hand that undoes him, and he lets himself surrender.

* * * * * 

You awoke at your usual 4am, alone in your bed.

There were sounds coming from the living area and you quickly realized it was Aemond, probably on his phone.  You smiled.  He hadn’t left after all.  After you used the bathroom, you grabbed your robe and wrapped it around yourself before walking to the kitchen.

“Hold off for now, otherwise they’ll keep the price high.  I’ll talk to you later,” he said when he saw you and after clicking off the call, he smiled and stood in time to open his arms to you.  “Good morning.”

“Indeed,” you replied, raising your mouth to his.  He kissed you gently, caressing your cheek.  “I need to get ready for work,” you said, letting him pull you in.

He held you tightly for a moment, then kissed the top of your head.  “I will see you later, then.  I have a meeting so I have to run, but I will be in after.”

“Okay,” you replied.  

“Will you stay with me tonight?  Bring a change of clothes for tomorrow?”

You nodded, smiling, and let him kiss you before he left.

* * * * * 

Bailey was working with you this morning, and you went over the scary happenings of the day before.  “Okay, you are never closing by yourself again,” he said.

“I don’t think any of us should open or close alone again.”

A woman walked in, looking around with a smile on her face.  “This is so charming!” she said, and you couldn’t help but smile back.  “I’ll take a coffee, black, to go.”

“Anything to eat?  Our morning buns are freshly made,” you said.  The bag she carried cost about 10k dollars, you knew.  

“Oh no,” she laughed, “I’ve already eaten today.”  She reached in and pulled out a credit card, handing it to you.

You rang her up while Bailey handed her the coffee cup.  Looking down at the card, you read:

Alys Rivers.

* * * * * 

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Thank you for reading, for your likes and reblogs, they all mean so much to me!!!

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[slimeranch7]

I find out that triads(Chinese mafia) have originally came from clans that opposed the local government and wanted to throw it away. So they operated secretly. Imagine triad member darling who is the personal maid of Ningguang, close one at that, who is torn apart between her and her clan. Like she likes Ningguang but her people are also personal so there’s that. And cunning and smart Ningguang who is aware of darlings occupation but she’s playing mouse and cat with her, waiting when she’ll realise all of that is losing game.

Content warnings: light Nsfw, murder/graphic ish violence

Ao3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/55616320

The metal sits heavy in your hands. Solid. Cold. Nothing you’ve never experienced in your life. It’s not that you haven't held a gun before.

The parts are detailed and ornate, oiled perfectly, sliding back to reveal a single golden bullet in the chamber winking back. Your stomach drops. You already know who it’s for.

The weight on your heart was for the man laying on the floor, squirming, whimpering, begging even when his tongue was gouged out and he bled all over Ningguang’s perfect wooden finish, seeping into the carpet.

You prayed for him. His daughter, who had gone off to study abroad in America last year. His son, who had won his first martial arts tournament just a few months ago. His loving wife, likely at home and waiting to have dinner with him given the hour, who worked as a nurse at the local hospital, seventh floor.

His identification was nowhere to be found. You assumed it was ripped off of his person when he was apprehended and tortured for intel.

Your boss’ voice was low and sultry as she leaned into your ear. “Have you ever killed, dear?”

You didn’t trust your voice not to waver, only nodding along as she continued. “Trust is important. It branches from respect, which, as you should know by now, makes up the backbone of this family. And I founded this family. Are you following?”

“Yes, my lady.” You verbalize, afraid to test her patience any further. She blows an intoxicating puff of opioid, scented and floral, then tapped the excess into a gilded ashtray off on the side.

"Right now, you are a drifter." A clawed finger glides over where you once clipped your badge. "Drifters, in my eyes, are untrustworthy. They have no apparent loyalty in which they pledge by. They belong to no one."

She could certainly feel the tremors that tore through you. Your back was cold yet sweaty. Denial, fear, regret, all builds up into a terrible mental backlog. You couldn't weigh the consequences cohesively, instead everything ran itself into pointless circles. You didn't even know where to start.

Ningguang helpfully steadies your hand, guiding your index over the trigger. The iron sights locked onto the man on the floor. Then she parts with a shallow kiss on your jaw, leaving behind a rose red lipstick stain. A promise for what's to come, should you pass her final test without error.

You had the barrel pointed directly between the trembling man's eyes. Tears blurred your vision. He wasn't no one. His family's grief would be by your own hands. They would wonder how he went missing. And your own existence outside of Ningguang's organization would cease to exist as long as his heart stopped beating.

For a moment, you contemplated on turning the barrel to your own throat. But by some tragic miracle, your own mind conjured up a thousand more reasons not to taunt death this way. Fear paralyzes you like a deadly snare.

"Still yourself, girl. Relax. Show me who you belong to." What other choice was there?

The motion of the pistol was the same as any other time you fired at a range or on field. The recoil kicked back hard, but you kept your shoulders and hips squared.

The ringing that lingered in your ears silenced all else. You could feel the sobs choke out of your throat as the adrenaline began to filter itself out of your system. Ningguang wastes no time in ravaging your body, closing in as soon as the gun clattered against the floor.

In all the years you've served under her, she has not once eyed you so hungrily as she did now. Instead she treated you like a cheap toy, feigning disinterest as she either mercilessly rode your tongue or fucked your throat until it was raw and aching. The more you choked and sputtered, the more her smirk would curl in satisfaction.

The better you were at your job, the more harshly you were punished. With chains or fire, it didn't matter. Only the marks that scarred your body did.

It was a test of loyalty, you eventually pieced together.

You ought to feel ashamed for enjoying her undivided attention so thoroughly. For all the times she left your pussy aching with need for you to tend to yourself, she makes it up by graciously offering up her thighs, letting you shamelessly grind as she pulled you into a frenzied kiss.

"You gave nothing away when you crawled beneath my foot for the first time," She gasped when she pulled back for air. "You weaseled yourself beneath my network and offered yourself like a virgin sacrifice. You were a perfect actor."

Her words sounded distant and muffled by the adrenaline. Palpitations in your heart began to ache terribly. Your only words only varied between different attempts at apology to no one in particular. Maybe God, if you were hoping for salvation.

A tear slips past your lashes, to which Ningguang catches with her lips as she peppers chaste kisses all over your face. You cried out when she gave your nipples a tight pinch through the sheer shirt she let you wear. The first time she had given anything below your neck any semblance of attention. It hurt, but sent pleasurable shockwaves down your stomach. "I thought it was too good to be true." She moved down, apologetically kissing the scars left by years of systematic torture. "Believe me, darling. They all break, one way or another."

And you broke, like any other. Not in ways that would have gotten you killed.

But in a way that sealed your own fate when your heart fluttered as she fucked your face. When your lungs seized itself in anticipation as you watched her brandish her prized leather crop. You should be ashamed of what you've become. But it's hard not to when you've rebuilt yourself up to love her warmth and her punishments.

Her pace is immediately brutal. You could feel your virgin pussy give and give as her fingers parted your walls, twisting and curling in hopes to find a spot that makes you see white. Her palms meet your swollen clit repeatedly, so much that it's burning and painful. You make an attempt to allow yourself some respite by reaching for her wrist, but her teeth graze your jaw like a warning.

No touching. You will submit your physical body wholly to her, just as you have surrendered your mind.

You will abandon your identity as a citizen and a registered officer. And you will become a nameless pet for her to love and to fuck. You will descend into the depths of mania, and you will rut against her shoes like a desperate whore if only to entertain your new master.

Every drop of squirt she wrings out of you would then be licked off the floor, and you'd be mindlessly happy to do so.

Never mind the ever expanding pool of blood below you, or the empty pistol laying off on the side. Your new place is under your master, who has taken her time in guiding you to become her perfect little girl.

[writertyozzie123]

A fun theory from yours truly: Why Lark is Normal's Dad - dropping before the finale and then running away:

So the Oaks are all about Twos, Barry Oak being born from two different worlds (Faerun and Earth, Elf and Human), Henry living two lives (on Earth and Faerun) and having twin boys, the twins themselves being identical in every way until magic separates them and of course, Normal and Hero (“two siblings”). However, looking at Lark and Sparrow, we get our divergence from pairs to foils. The twins quickly go from identical in every way to being identical only in appearance, due to magic they have differing personalities that are opposites. To keep things simple, Lark is Hate and Sparrow is Love. BUT these are also the same traits the Doodler requires to be set free. You could free it by either love or hate (and presumably fear), effectively giving the Kiddads the opportunity to save Dood and themselves, however, because they can not let these two sides coexist for an answer, they were doomed to fail. 

SO here we are, Sparrow and Rebecca have a child, name her Hero, and are DETERMINED that she is the “chosen one”. However, she is THEIR chosen one, not Dood’s. And humans never choose their own savior, fate does. But! I think that Hero is Sparrow’s because of the foils thing. Hero is like her father, she doesn’t want to fight or kill, she is kind, she wants a normal life, but she was trained to believe she was the chosen one. Lark probably trained her in a lot of things in preparation to defeat the Doodler, but he no doubt trained her with hate towards the Doodler and probably instilled fear of the Doodler into her as well. ESPECIALLY because he probably told her more about what he saw when he sat on the throne than anyone else, even Sparrow. He thought the only way to stop it was to kill it. 

However, she is NOT the chosen one, because she was not born to the one who hates. I fully believe that to truly save the Doodler, BOTH Love and Hate were required. Hatred freed the Doodler from the Oak bloodline when the blood of the unsung hero was spilled. This must mean that the child of the man who spilled blood in Hate to “save the world”, thus dooming it in the process, MUST be a child who would save the world through Love. Someone who was not trained or forced to view the Doodler with any bias that would lead to violence. Someone…”Normal”. Seeing as how Hate was already used, and because things come in pairs and foils with this family, Normal saving Dood from Willy and finally truly “freeing” Dood with LOVE completes this pattern. SO with Normal being Lark’s kid, this would also complete the pattern. Dood was freed from the family’s bloodline through Hate via Lark, but Normal will save the universe through Love. So Normal is the real chosen one because he was born to Lark but raised by Sparrow and Rebecca who were trying to keep him AWAY from everything involving the Doodler. Thus cementing him as, well, part 2 of the savior, with Lark being part 1. 

Not to mention Normal and Lark both sat on the throne, leaving the Doodler’s fate up to BOTH of them, Sparrow and Hero never had direct contact with Dood. On top of other things like we know this was probably not a one-time thing for Lark and Rebecca because even Rebecca slips up and says “fathers” then corrects herself to “Father and Uncle”, so even she isn’t sure who the father of her children is. 

However, due to the idea of things coming in Twos, pairs and foils in this family, Sparrow the “love wolf” being Hero “the begrudging false savior”’s father, while Lark “Dood’s freer” is Normal “Dood’s savior”’s father would be very fitting to me, especially because of the Doodler’s influence on the family.

[belphegorbillickin]

B, E, L, O, & U for the x reader ask game with yandere!Malleus if that's alright?

Outrageous, how do they react when you get yourself into trouble? Do they bail you out or are you on your own? Do they expect you to get them out of trouble?

Malleus is typically content to sit back and observe as the shorter lived species get themselves into mortal peril.

He ignores even those he is fond of, as both Lilia and his grandmother have told him many tales of what happens to the fae who become overly attached.*

"Learn from Lady Maleficent's tale, lest you be doomed to repeat it." They would say.

"Your great-grandmother did naught but bless the Lord's child even after they so cruelly ostracized her out of fear and jealousy, and yet the humans repaid her with violence for daring to grace the kingdom she so gracefully allowed them with her presence.

Enjoy it for as long as it may last if you must. Do not interfere with their fates, or they shall soon take your presence for granted. The lesser races quickly become dependent on our magic, you see.

The once grateful masses always begin refusing to work and place the blame of their own actions on the generous fae who deigned to help them in the first place. I would loathe to see you go through the same heartbreak and betrayal many others of our kind have faced, my beloved child."

Malleus hears this and understands it very well, but what if he wanted you to become dependent on him? Surely it wouldn't be that much of a problem.

You have no family here, only that beast of yours. And your "friends," as they love to title themselves as such, are inconsequential at best if they dare to fight for your hand. All of them easily overpowered by his personal guards alone.

Yes, Malleus rather likes the sound of that. He'll just have to ensure your love never strays nor flickers. Not that he would've deigned to bless you with his devotion if he thought you to be that fickle, but he is aware how even the passage of time itself can cause humans to waver.

As for saving him in return? Well, what a delightful little joke that is. Don't you worry your pretty little head about it, all he needs from you is your affection and absolute obedience.

Emergency, what would they do if you needed them? Do they drop everything? Do they panic? What do they do if they need you?

Now, if it was something truly dangerous Malleus goes absolutely berserk. The sky is alight with lightning in an instant and every candle turns into a roaring green flame.

He doesn't lose sight of what's important, he'd never ignore your wellbeing to exact revenge, but his reputation and any possible ramifications for his country do fall to the wayside.

Malleus does absolutely everything in his power to keep you safe, even before you're truly in danger.

He specializes in protective magics for a reason after all. As much as he tries to prevent himself from becoming attached he's terrified of losing those he cares about.

You're most likely smothered in protective jewelries and blessings long before you made your relationship official, whether you know it or not.

Your dwelling, whether that be Ramshackle or someplace else, is absolutely covered in protective magics as well.

He'd most likely even prevent anyone but himself, Lilia, and your pet from coming inside Ramshackle if he thought you'd let him get away with it with minimal complaints.

If someone dared to attempt an attack or kidnapping of any kind in his homeland and Malleus is unable to obliterate catch them immediately he is absolutely taking full advantage of his status.

Within hours there is a mass notice of treason. Anyone who is seen to helping the perpetrator will be executed along with them, and anyone who can bring them alive for unbearable torture questioning and then a very gruesome public execution will be rewarded handsomely.

As much as he'd love to hunt them down himself nothing is more important than keeping you safe, and no one is more suited for the task than him.

If he has to put you to sleep in order to carry you around every waking minute of the day until they're brought to justice? Well, that's a "burden" he'd love to bear.

Afterwards, when he's completely sure of your safety he'll be double all of his security measures for you at the absolute minimum. You can say goodbye to what little freedom you had, permanently.

Unless you're both incredibly lucky and cunning enough to talk your way out of it as well as incredibly obedient, with no hesitation or hidden resentment, the only way you'll ever be out of your tower again is if Malleus is right there next to you.

Love potion, you’ve accidentally drank a love potion that causes you to feel like you’re dying if they don’t touch you. What is their reaction?

He's simultaneously ecstatic that your love transferred this curse to him and absolutely furious at the thought that you could've been feeling this way with someone else.

Malleus is a fae on a mission, carrying you around shamelessly as he seeks end this curse and the one who used it on you, purposefully or not.

Plead with him desperately enough and you'll be able to have all of his adoration to yourself as he sends his guards to capture the criminal for execution trial.

Rest assured that he'll see the perpetrator expelled and punished to the full extent of the law since he's unable act as he would truly wish to outside of his kingdom.

He'll use this as an excuse to take up even more of your time and enact even more protective measures, but surely you understand this is for your own good right? A love potion is far from the worst thing that could happen to you after all.

Bargain, would they just accept a break-up? Do they mope around or try to fix things? How would they attempt to get you back?

Absolutely not. Under no circumstances would he ever accept this.

Rather, even if he abhorred you Malleus would still keep you bound to him by any means possible. Malleus is sure you'll eventually come to see reason, but it still hurts him to see you rejecting him like this.

He just can't bring himself to let another person close to him go, even if he has cradle your eternally sleeping body in order to pretend you still loved him.

He won't allow natural causes to take you from him either. Malleus would use every bit of ancient and forbidden magic he had access to in order to extend your lifespan and fight off diseases.

Even if it meant shortening his own in order to do so.

It's "until death do us part" for the both of you, and he has zero intentions of letting you die.

Undo, how do they attempt to be forgiven for making you upset? What do you need to do after making them upset to get their forgiveness?

Political niceties come fairly easy to him by now, even when a certain second-born tries patience, but Malleus is actually terrible at sincere apologies. Almost terrible enough to put said lion to shame.

It's not that he doesn't want to make amends or that he thinks you don't deserve one, but yandere Malleus is especially entitled and out of touch.

He is very much unused to having to explain himself to anyone other than his grandmother (the literal Queen) and, with increasing rarity as the years go by, Lilia. It explains quite a bit about his (bad) behavior, doesn't it?

Malleus refuses to apologize for doing what he must to keep you safe, but he will of course make amends in his own way.

He hates to see you in pain, but no tantrum of yours could compare to the pain he'd feel if he lost you prematurely.

He'll hold you ever so gently on his lap, drying your tears, as he kindly explains to you exactly why he's decided to take those actions and feeds you your favorite foods by hand.

Just like his grandmother used after some particularly harsh punishments.

Well, the handfeeding and humming you to sleep afterwards is his own personal touch, but Malleus can't help but want to spoil his beloved, so he does hope that you appreciate it.

Sorry the love potion prompt was a bit brief, but even as a separate character I can't see yandere!Malleus actually going full yandere unless you genuinely loved him and still at least enable him after he's shown at least part of his true colors.

Tbh I can't even see him seeking out a romantic relationship unless you make it very clear you're interested while also respecting his position and not pushing it.

I think it'd have to kind of sneak up on him until he's willing to go against his duty.

I do think the fandom drastically overstates the importance of Malleus having a lover though.

Both in that they could never have any power at all even if they were a mage, but also in that simply being in a relationship means almost nothing when the queen is said to be soft on him and still holding the throne until he's ready.

The prefect has 90 years at absolute max with Malleus even if he stayed completely faithful until they died of old age.

Meanwhile Malleus is literally several hundred years old at minimum (thanks to new info from chap.7) and he's just barely reached young adulthood. As in it took him that entire time to mature.

A century is barely more than the equivalent of a summer fling for a dragon fae. Even if he was expected to take the throne immediately after returning I doubt they'd force him into a political marriage instantly anyway.

I also doubt children could even happen without special preparations being made considering he canonically hatched from an egg, so there's no worry about illegitimate heirs either even if the prefect is semi-reproductively compatible.

I know there's Sebek and all, but his mother is the fae so even if she produced eggs as well I feel like it's significantly easier that way. But I'll spare y'all from autistic rants about fantasy reproduction.

*Okay, so I know this doesn't line up perfectly with popular fanon for Malleus and Lilia, but if you read Malleus' lines for lessons & etc he's actually really arrogant and can be just as "racist" as Sebek.

More than Sebek really, considering a lot of Sebek's hang ups are obviously him projecting and distancing himself from his heritage and the prejudice he would've faced.

I definitely don't think he's actively disgusted by humans, but I do think he is at least a little prejudiced and most likely looks down on them. Like almost somewhere inbetween how you'd treat a child and a particularly loved pet.

I've got a ton I wanna say about Lilia, but I'll spare y'all from that too until I post his hcs.

[love-yourself-first-tfw]

Hard to Love - Part One

Pairing: MOC!Dean/Demon!Dean x Reader 

Prompt: While dating Dean, he gets more and more reclusive toward you when he is given the Mark of Cain. Unable to handle the behavior, you leave but some part of him isn’t willing to let you go. 

Word Count: 3883 :) 

Warnings: Angst, Break-Up, Violence, Demon!Dean, lots of tears. 

Author’s Note: I had this saved as a draft from the end of 2016, unfinished so I tried to finish it as well as I could. It just came out like word vomit but I’m not sure how much I like it. I tried my best to make it gender neutral so if there are any mistakes, please let me know! 

Part Two 

You noticed that when you were lying in bed, he had his back towards you, almost falling off the bed to get away from your presence. Unable to reach out and touch him in fear of rejection, you continued to stare at his Henley-covered back, watching his steady breaths.

"Dean? Is everything okay with us?" The question sounds weird, a lump pushing into your throat, uncomfortably. He answered with a grunt, nothing else, keeping with his recent code of silence toward you. A dejected hum leaves your lips.

Turning on your back, looking around the room at all the items -- with some of you sprinkled in-- that make it your shared room. Wringing your hands together as you think about where you can go, you can’t stay here anymore, not like this. You want to help him but how can you when he doesn’t even want to be near you?

                                                                              Something had changed in the last few weeks. He wouldn't look at you, let alone talk. He wouldn’t shut up with Sam and Cas, though. 

Maybe the hours of silence with me drove him to talk to them.

Dean is only close to you when you are in Baby, driving to a hunt. Not holding your hand anymore but instead gripping the wheel, knuckles turning white, not sparing a glance at you. You’d gone as far as changing the music, to a pop station nonetheless, in the middle of one of his songs, hopeful of a reaction.  

Yell! Look at me with disgust! Do something, please!

But par for the course, Dean does nothing. He stares at the road, unmoving and silent while Sam and you stare at him in disbelief. The tears well up as you look at the horizon to your right, trying your best to not break in front of either man. Trying to understand what you could do differently. 

You stop sitting up front. You don’t talk to him. You avoid him at the bunker. You respond with little-to-no passive-aggressive comments when Dean talks to you through Sam. You keep your crying to the bathroom and shower, alone. 

You knew the Mark would change him but not like this. 

He kissed you last week after a rough hunt, a close call with a witch causing a teeny moment of intimacy between you two. Both of you pulled away with wide eyes: yours in shock and his in... disappointment? He walked ran away before a talk could be had, disappearing somewhere in the main area, while you went to take a shower; a habit forming. 

No matter what you try he just keeps pulling away.

Do I keep trying? 

I can get my things together and leave by the next hunt. Dean won’t stop me if I want to stay home.

Home. The thought made it so much more real. This is your home; Dean is your home. You take a sharp breath through your nose, trying not to make too much noise as you got up, going somewhere the breakdown won’t bother Dean.

                                                                                When Sam comes up to you in the morning, letting you know that there’s a possible ghost in the next town over, an easy salt and burn. You sniffle for effect as you tell Sam that you’re not feeling the greatest, watching his eyes drop in sympathy. 

He throws his arm around your shoulders, leading you back toward your bedroom.

“You shouldn’t be up then, dude. Go lay down, I’ll bring you some medicine before we leave, and I’ll tell Dean you aren’t coming. I’m sure he’ll want to see you.” 

You don’t need to look at Sam to know he doesn’t believe what he’s saying but you thank him regardless, feeling guilty about what the future will be. A hug in the doorway, tighter on your end than usual, ends when he pulls away and helps you back into bed. 

Sam comes back with some pills and a cup of water, ice clinking against the glass, with each stride. “Do you need anything else?” 

With the blanket tucked under your chin, you shake your head. “No, I’m good. I’m just gonna sleep it off and if it gets worse, I’ll text you, okay?” 

“Okay, I hope you feel better soon, (Y/N/N), and don’t beat yourself up about Dean. He’s not doing well with the Mark; he still loves you.” 

You close your eyes and turn your back to him after you nod to his comment, trying to hint that he’s good to leave and that if he stays, you’d rather not talk.

“Thanks, Sammy. I love ya.” 

“Love you too, (Y/N).” 

The click of the door shutting follows the flick of the light switch. And more tears. Silent and steady as you listen and wait for the departure that begins the end of life as you know it. 

Exhausted from the last few days of one-sided fighting, you try to fight off the sleep that takes over, but you slip under just as the hall light spills in when Dean peaks his head past the door frame. 

                                                                              It’s a few hours later when you wake up to a text from Sam, they’ve made it to the cozy town, and he will let you know when it’s done or if they have any problems. You let him know you feel better before wishing them luck on the hunt, getting up, and beginning the process of mission: Disappearing (Y/N). 

With a sigh, you start going through the knick-knacks that you’ve collected over the years, sighing again when you realize that all things will just remind you of him. Anger flares within you, the white-hot rage of your hand being forced, the whole situation out of your control. 

Leaving the small things and just grabbing your clothes from the closet, looking around the room for anything that could be useful on the trip. No mementos to save. You slam the door on your way out, going to your old room next, going through the same routine as before.

Two filled duffel bags sit in the back seat of your car when you finish, mostly clothes and things you’d brought with you when you moved into the bunker. Not running around anymore, the rush of adrenaline begins to fade turning into more anger. 

“Why!? I don’t understand?!” You hit the steering wheel with your palms, letting out a scream that transforms into an ugly wet, wail. 

A note laying in the war room, on the map table, explains why you left, addressed to Sam, in a last effort to be heard or at the very least get the last word. Your phone is on top of the note, showing the seriousness of your actions.

Sam,

Maybe we will see each other on the road again but I can’t stay somewhere I’m clearly not wanted. I’m sorry for lying to you and not saying goodbye in person. I don’t think I would’ve gone otherwise. Love ya, dude. Tell jerk face that I’ll always love him even if he has that mark on his arm, if he becomes a demon, or if he hates me. Always. 

I hope the best for you in the future. 

Goodbye,

(Y/N)

You wipe your nose with your sleeve, lifting your head from the steering wheel to embark on the journey to a new home. 

                                                                              In just a few months, you are settled in your new apartment in Colorado, taking a break from hunting to get familiar with the area. Neither Dean nor Sam gets into contact with you, whether that’s not wanting to or for lack of trying, you don’t know. 

With a new job in a library in town, you try to get past the guilt that sweeps over you every now and then, reminding yourself of the way you were treated. Of why you left in the first place. 

Unlocking the door after a long Monday of reshelving books, the silence of the apartment is disturbed by your keys going into the bowl next to the coat rack. You slip your shoes off before sliding your jacket off and onto the rack, turning to the living room and shouting in shock at Dean, who is standing, arms crossed, in front of the couch. 

“What the hell? Why are you in my house?” 

“Why do you have a devil’s trap in your living room?” He smirks, a glint in his eyes that makes the hair on the back of your neck stand up. “Seems like you were expecting someone.” 

You put it there when you moved in, taking a page from Bobby’s book by using invisible blacklight paint. Decided that while one is useful in front of the door, the living room was also easy to run through if caught off guard, with no door to slow you down, and no one expects it there. 

Looking him over again before answering his question, his face is thinner than when you last saw him, hair gelled in a way that looks unnatural for him. His dark red button-up hangs loosely on his body. 

“For this reason. Though I can’t say I expected you to be stuck in it. Who killed you?” 

“Metatron. Though to be fair, I did try to kill him first.” You hum as he tries-- and fails-- to sit on the couch. “You couldn’t have made this any smaller, huh?” 

The smirk on his face only grows as he feels irritation roll off of you. “What do you want, Dean?” 

Now it’s his turn to look you up and down, wetting his lips before speaking. “I can think of a couple things.” 

You roll your eyes and make your way to your bedroom. 

“Oh, c’mon. I was just joking, sweetheart!” 

You ignore his words and change into comfortable clothes before dialing Sam’s number, deciding that letting him know was better than waiting for any more of Dean’s antics. 

“Hello?”

“Sam? It’s (Y/N). Dean just showed up at my house and got stuck in a devil’s trap.” You sigh, rubbing your forehead.

Another shout from the living room brings tears to your eyes, the love of your life so close but so far at the same time. 

“Just wanted to talk to ya! You gonna leave me out here alone?” 

Sam asks for your address, giving you the details of what had conspired in the last couple of weeks: Dean dying and being turned into a demon, then bolting and teaming up with Crowley-- doing only God knows what around the country-- meanwhile Sam is doing everything he can to find and cure his brother.

“I’m not too far from you but I’ll still be awhile. Like...” he pauses, taking a deep breath, “maybe seven hours. I’m sorry I can’t get there sooner.” 

“It’s okay, I’ll keep him here. I can’t say he’ll be in a happy mood when you get here.” 

“Well, he won’t be happy to see me anyway, so it won’t matter. Thanks for the heads up though. I’ll let you know when I get there.” 

“Okay, see you soon, Sam.” 

With a deep breath, you slid out into the hallway, building up the confidence to make yourself visible to Dean. 

“You can do this. Make your dinner and ignore the living, breathing, talking, statue in the middle of your apartment.” Nodding to yourself, you walk out with your chin up. 

“There you are!” 

Dean’s eyes follow you past him and the couch as you move to the kitchen. Keeping busy with the leftovers, you avoid making eye contact with Dean, brushing his announcement off with silence. When you put the plate of chicken and rice into the microwave, your focus drifts from the timer counting down to those vibrant pools of green, ominous black hiding behind them. 

His eyebrows raise up in amusement, “You lose. Are you going to talk to me now?” 

“How ‘bout no.” You cross your arms, scoffing at the question.

“You just did, baby. Now just hear me out, you said you’d still love me as a demon, but this doesn’t feel like love to me.” 

He chuckles darkly at the end of his words. His demeanor changes: eyebrows pulling down, eyes darkening, and a sneer coming onto his lips. 

The microwave beeps, pulling your attention away, though your words slip out before you can think about it. “I do still love you, jerk face.” 

It’s not a secret or a lie, you just didn’t want to say it aloud. It had been peaceful dissociating from all that and using every waking moment to adjust to the new way of living without him, not knowing if he would ever come back. 

The plate hits the counter harder than you mean for it to, tears stinging your eyes again. “What do you want from me, Dean? I left so you wouldn’t have to feel guilty about whatever the fuck you felt guilty about. You didn’t want to explain it to me then, what do you possibly have to say now?” 

A split second of shock passes Dean’s face before it’s back to anger. He opens his mouth, but you cut him off before he can say anything, pulling the silverware drawer open and grabbing a fork. 

“No, seriously. I. Don’t. Care. There really is no fucking excuse for what you put me through. So, unless you want to say sorry-- which I highly doubt, considering the black eyes rolling around back there-- shut up.” You slam the drawer: the loud noise and rattling of metals end your shouting. Taking a deep breath and beginning to eat, your back turned away from him, with a tiny, fragment of hope he actually listens. 

He blows a raspberry, “Well, that’s where you are sorely mistaken. I’m sorry for what the numb nuts did to you. To think, I could’ve had you from the beginning if he’d just said a few words to you now and again.” 

Your chewing stops as the food becomes a rock in your mouth, no longer able to swallow as you listen to him. Staring ahead at the balcony door as he continues spewing words at you. 

“Instead of all the cheap whores in dingy bars, I could’ve had you. Waiting on little ole’ me.” It’s clear from his tone that he is mocking you, taunting your words. Even though the relationship is over, the words make your chest twist uncomfortably, your watery eyes finally spilling over. 

“Whatever, have fun out here by yourself.” You leave the half-eaten meal on the counter, not sparing a glance at the man as you pass him to go to your room, keeping your head down to hide the tears that stream down your face. 

Slamming the door, shoving your face in a pillow, and screaming to relieve the stress of the situation, only helps bring more cries out of you. You know it’s not the Dean you knew talking to you but the twisted and dark version, wanting what he wants with no care about who it may affect. 

The darkness of your eyelids fluttering takes over you as you fall asleep to Dean’s calls to you. A dream of your life from before fills your head, one more moment with Dean that you can hope to forget when you wake.

                                                                            You jerk awake when your phone buzzes from a text, the vibrations magnified by the wood of the side table. Two texts from Sam illuminate the screen. 

From Sam: I just got into town I’ll be there in twenty minutes.

From Sam: Just got to your apartment. You get my first text?

To Sam: Sorry, fell asleep. 2C. Door’s unlocked for you. 

From Sam: I’ll be up there soon. 

When you take a moment to listen, it’s completely silent. Panicking at the thought that Dean was able to get away before Sam and you could cure him, you rush to the living room. Dean stands still, glaring at you as you appear from the hallway.

His lips are drawn into a sneer as he snarls, ��how nice of you to come to see your guest.” 

The door opens as he ends, catching his attention, a scoff comes from him when Sam comes around the door. 

“I told you to fuck off, Sam. I don’t want you to be cured.”

Sam just shrugs, putting the duffel bag on the couch, and unloading some tools to get Dean back to the bunker with little to no issues. 

“Dean, you told me that you’d leave (Y/N) alone. So, what’s that about? Tired of the demon life?” 

Sam motions to you, hair crumpled from the impromptu nap, eyes, and nose red from crying. “You’ve been bar hopping for weeks on end, new people in your bed every night. Your freaking wet dream. Why are you here, ripping open an old wound, on someone who clearly doesn’t want shit from you?”  

“I saw you. You were at the bar in town, with some others, didn’t even notice me when I sat down at the bar top-- can’t say your observation skills were ever the best anyway.” Dean eyes you as he speaks, watching your jaw clench at the small dig toward you. 

“And then I get a call from some dude about how he caught Sam and if I wanted him back alive, I’d have to switch places with him, I told him to fuck off and came here instead. Looks like you made it alright, didn’t ya, Sammy?” 

“Yup, just like always.” He puts his good hand on your back, steering you towards the kitchen. 

“What the hell, seriously, Sam? What happened?” 

Sam leans against the countertop, his chin resting on his chest as he takes a deep breath. You reach into the freezer for a bag of peas, wrap it in a towel, and press it to his black eye, letting him hold the makeshift icepack when he winces. 

“He pulled up when I was stranded on the side of the road, I thought he was going to help but he knocked me out and brought me to an old barn, maybe?” 

His head drops, no longer making eye contact with you. 

“He called Dean and then when Dean hung up, he just went off.” Mocking the man who had tortured him only a day before, Sam’s voice lowers comically, “He killed my father in front of me...Two tours in Iraq in Special OPS...blah blah blah. Then he hit me a bunch, trying to get Dean’s location.” 

Two tours in Iraq? Special OPS? 

His pause allows you to ask your next question of many, “how did you get away?” 

“He got a phone call and when he pulled his phone out, his knife fell from his pocket, and I just got out.” 

A twinge of doubt and anxiety spread through you, the words “that seems too easy” on your lips after he explains. He finally looks back at you, seeing the questioning expression on your face.

“What? Why are you looking at me like that?” He lowers the frozen peas when you make your way to the living room again. 

“You mean to tell me that a solider, not just any ol’ solider at that, special OPS who served two tours in Iraq and he just dropped a knife, that let you get away?” 

As if to emphasize your point, the whole house goes dark. You reach the bookshelf behind Dean, both men watching you. The few beats of silence are broken when the front window breaks, a canister rolling onto the floor behind the couch, spraying a thick, white cloud of smoke. 

It reaches Sam first, harsh coughs coming from him as he yells for you to get to the backyard. Feeling the wall by the bookcase, you find the string taped to the wall that will break the seal when pulled. Feeling your eyes water, nose and throat burning, you tug the string with you as you move toward the back door, breaking the trap’s seal, and releasing Dean.

The smoke impedes your vision, your hip catches on the corner of the couch making you stumble to the floor, and more coughs force their way up through your lips. 

Arms encircle your waist, and harsh whispers come over your shoulder, “Jesus, your life is in danger, and you release the demon, how sickening.” He helps you to the fresh air that burns when you greedily suck it down. 

Dean’s support leaves your body, your knees hitting the moist grass that seeps through your sweatpants. When you open your eyes, you have to blink past the tears to see Sam lying next to you and Dean in front of you.  An unknown voice speaks to Dean, emotional and hate-filled, “You remember me?” 

“Yeah, you’re the guy from that thing.” 

“We talked on the phone. This is payback.”

The two men begin to fight, Dean doesn’t even try to pull punches, continuing to belittle him, yelling coming from Cole with every hit that he takes. Sam moves, waking up from a hit to the head, eyes meeting yours before flitting to Dean. Dean taunts and throws the man’s gun to the side, winking at you before he turns back to the fight.

“...spitballing here, but maybe you’re not as good as you think.” 

A pause from Dean before he laughs. “Ooh,” Dean’s hands go up in a fake surrender wave, “You know kung-fu?”

“I know everything.”

Dean gets into Cole’s face after quoting The Princess Bride, making his first mistake as Cole slices his face with his knife. Going to stab, only angering Dean more when he grabs Cole’s throat.

“You have no idea what you walked into, do you?”

“What are you?” 

Knowing Dean’s eyes are black at the expression on Cole’s face, you close your eyes, hearing the rest of the fight and Cole egging Dean on to kill him. 

“I changed my mind, I guess.” Dean chuckles before he breaks out in a hiss.

“It’s over! Stop.” 

You open your eyes and see that Sam has managed to get the Devil’s trap handcuffs on Dean. A murderous look on Dean’s face, staring up at Sam from his knees. Sam ignores his brother’s glare, looking at you as you sit back on your heels. “You okay, (Y/N/N)?”

You nod, watching Sam force Dean into the back of Baby, unable to take your eyes off Dean, who continues to kill Sam with his unblinking, scowl. 

Sam helps you up, keeping an eye on Dean so he can’t escape. “You can come with us. I’m giving the first blade to Crowley and I’m going to try to cure him. I don’t know if it’ll work but I’m hopeful.” 

You look back to your house; in the scuffle to get Dean, neither you nor Sam see where Cole flees to-- the feeling of safety and home lost, now that the invasion is over. 

Sighing, you wrap your arms around yourself, nodding and speaking softly, “yeah, let me just grab a couple of things and I’ll be down. You might need some help with him.” 

Looking back at Dean, you speak again, unsure how firm the words are. “I’ll stay until he’s cured but after that, I’m gonna go.” 

                                                                          Part Two