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neteyamyawne · 1 year

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I hade an idea for Jake x fem reader x Neytiri. Reader is Lo’ak and Tuk’s mother (Lo’ak still calls her mama) and gets shot instead of Neteyam trying to save spider because she cares for him like a son(she doesn’t die but she gets close to it and is going in and out of consciousness)And you know how Neytiri and Jake reacted to Neteyam getting shot they react the same with Neytiri going on a whole rampage and after they get the gurls back they rush to the rock to get to the reader and get them help.(Lo’ak blames himself and feels guilty because he feels like his mama is the only one that understands him) The reader is in a coma for a little bit but Neytiri never leaves the readers side and Jake only leaves to take care of the kids, until the reader wakes up like kiri did from her seizure crying and Jake and Neytiri are right there to comfort her and Lo’ak and tuk are attached to the reader like a leech when she gets better.

🪷 — Toxn'ong

୭ ˚. Pairing : Jake x fem!Navi!reader x neytiri

୭ ˚. Summary : request

୭ ˚. Warning : war, gunshots, getting hit, mention of blood, blacking out, angst, coma, lo'ak being sad, crying, fluff ending, let me know if more.

୭ ˚. Word count : 2.2k , kinda proof read.

୭ ˚. Note : "word" - dialogue, **word** - flashback

୭ ˚. Extras : finally I'm done with this request, this is my first polygamy fic so please if there are any mistakes let me know, enjoy 😄

୭ ˚. Glossary : [tawtute] - human, [eywa] - Navi deity.

The battle raged around you, Dodging the bullets flying towards your ikran, trying hard to escape the firearms by swiveling around the ship, soldiers swarmed around the waters, losing the ones behind you but now even more were standing in front of your face, quickly dropping down and shooting most of them out, you hide yourself behind a metal wall, you peaked, seeing them come forward you pounce at them, hitting them right on their faces with your bow, turning around and knocking the others out as well, you walked over to the other side of the deck cautiously to see tsireya, lo'ak and tuk strapped to the railing,your heart racing, running forward you pulled out your knife but stopped as someone shot up from the side of the ship, blocking the way between the three kids to protect them from the oncoming danger but sighed in relief at the sight of neteyam walking towards you.

You cut open lo'ak's handcuffs while neteyam undid tsireya's, the waves were crashing into the ship and sprayed over the deck, drenching you all, tuk was crying when you pulled her to your chest , she should not have been here, she should be at shore at Awa'atlu , far away from all this, shushing her down and kissing her forehead to stop her from crying, when lo'ak said "mama, we have to save spider, we can't leave him here" you looked at neteyam who was a bit hesitant but agreed, spider was like your own, even if neytiri disliked him, he was like your own son, you knew who his father is, the man who's trying to kill your mates right now for eywa's sake but that didn't mean his son would be same.

You got up, ushering tuk to go with tsireya, treading your way towards the hallway of the sinking ship, halting now and then when a guard passed around in your surroundings, after a lot of crawling around you finally got to the lab or work space or whatever those demons called it, dropping down you all knocked out each and every soldier within a few minutes, grabbing spider you ran towards the moon pool but blocked lo'ak's way as few soldiers ran into you, killing them off one by one, you ran out of arrows, bending down to draw one out of the dead tawtute, but gunfire rang through the air and you immediately pulled back against door to block your view, your eyes widen when you saw lo'ak with a gun, quickly pulling it out of his hands, you settled the boys behind you, gunshots where still raining down, looking out from the corner you fired up your gun as well, taking down as many demons as you could.

You yelled at the three of them to jump down in to the pool quickly, when all three of them dived in, you looked out once again, the shoot out stopping for a moment so you took your opportunity and ran towards the pool, hitting the water surface you sank down, gasping for air but only water surrounded you, a white hot searing pain shot through your shoulder, breaking the surface the air felt like needles in your lungs as you grunted in pain, agonizingly you rasped out "I'm shot" but soon you sank down again, lo'ak's face fell when he saw your state and pulled you up neteyam helping him, it was getting hard to breathe, your vision fogging but your heard some specks of words lo'ak said "mama…..eyes open…..keep" the world moved slow and you fought to keep my eyes open, you were being moved , alot faster than you expected, you groaned before you blacked out.

Lo'ak was screaming for everyone to move as he, neteyam and Jake lowered you gently on the rock "watch her head!" Jake's heart was beating a mile per second, his thoughts were jumping to worst possible conclusions, he fell to his knees beside your body, as gently as possible he picked up your side to look at your back to see any possible exist hole, he physically sighed in relief as he found no wound but as soon as he laid you back down, you woke up from your blacked out state screaming at the burning sensation, he pushed you down as you looked up at him gasping to catch up on the depleted air level in your lungs, he cupped your cheek forcing you to take deep breaths even if it burned like hell, neteyam was putting pressure onto the wound but it was no were near sealed from bleeding.

you reached for Jake and sputtered out "ma' ja- Jake, i see you-" but he cut short "No! Everything is fine, we are going to get you out of here, just hold on honey, do not close your eyes please" and you fought your hardest but everything felt week, like you were being lulled to sleep but you held on, a screech bellows through the air as neytiri landed, her eyes widened as the sight and she immediately fell to her knees " No, NO, NO , NO NOOOO! Please great mother, nooooo" she screamed pulling your head against her chest, you coughed out, blood spilling from your mouth, she put your head down as Jake helped to wipe the blood, your head rolled back eyes falling close, it was getting harder to stay awake, so you finally looked at neytiri, squeezing her hand you gasped out "tiri, i see you, Jake i-" but exhaustion took its toll, eyes rolling to the back of your head as you went slump in their arms, neytiri's cries turned to sobs , wrecking her body as she pulled you close, lo'ak stayed near his mother tears streaming down his face, neteyam sobbed for his mom as well , Jake looked around, gears kicking in, he placed a hand on neytiri's shoulder pulling her back, as she just looked at him with sunken eyes, whimpers escaping in agonizing cries, but he grounded her "neytiri, strong heart! Strong heart!" patting her chest , she looked one last time at you and got up aiming for her ikran, Jake saw as she flew up, face stone cold as her heart right now. He prayed for the men she killed to go to hell. Lo'ak got up too behind Jake as he tried to convince him to let him fight as well but he was stopped "you've done enough" with that, Jake walked away to rescue his girls that were stuck with that monster……

»»————-　✼　————-««

(Time skip cuz i don't remember the whole sequene😭)

»»————-　✼　————-««

Neytiri sat with your head in her lap, wiping your face with a wet rag slowly, Ronal sat in a corner working on her pastes and salves while keeping an eye on you, tsireya had called for help and you were immediately taken back to the healers mauri, when you're family came back, Jake quickly called for norm, the humans checked your body and vitals were low but still there ,so all of them got to work straight away, Ronal had to shoo them away as she worked on you, the bullet was extracted and the wound was stitched and bandaged but there was still no sign of you waking up, even after hours of waiting, no inkling of a move from you.

When Ronal was done with her rituals, norm scanned and took some readings for Jake's peace of mind, but when he saw the results he feared the reaction he would get when the news unfolds. Jake and neytiri were stunned with the outcome, her face crumbling but she held back. Due to the shock and extensive exhaustion your body went into lockdown, easily said you were in coma, with no way of knowing when you'll wake up.

The whole family was lament over your state but the ones most hit were lo'ak , tuk and neytiri, the three of them never left your side, lo'ak blamed himself for even requesting to save spider, if he wouldn't have said that then this would not have happened, he silently cried by your side at nights, Begging for you to wake up. Tuk was confused at why her mama wouldn't wake up even when she cried for you, neytiri was holding back tears almost every time she saw them by you, Jake was in a whole another state, his mind a total chaos, he sat by your side every minute he got the chance too but his work came in between, then too he tried, he was never a religious person but he prayed to eywa every single minute for you to wake up, to get up and embrace him , pull him close and tell him that everything was alright and you were fine but that didn't happen…yet.

After three days and three nights ,of both the metkayina family and your family who were taking rigorous care of you, sagged in relief when you finally opened your eyes, neytiri who never left your side instantly held you closer, but moments of the war flooded your mind as you choked back on your tears, your mate immediately pulled you in as you cried in her neck, every horrible death, the lives you took in matter of seconds, all came back in a huge wave, you crumbled in her arms as your whole body violently shook with sobs, two more pair of arms of your children wrapped around you as you cried, Jake , kiri and neteyam followed suit hugging you. All of you sat there in the middle of your mauri, huddled together, no one spoke a word, just comforted in the fact that you had woken up, and everything was going to be fine, everything was going to be okay.

»»————-　✼　————-««

Neytiri, even after you woke up, didn't leave your side while lo'ak and tuk didn't even get up from you body, lo'ak was at your right side hugging you close to him, he had told you everything what he felt.

** "I'm sorry mama, i shouldn't have asked to go save him, I'm really sorry, i didn't mean-" but you cut him off by pulling him close to you, rubbing his back you whispered "it's okay baby, it was not your fault, spider is our family too, and it was our job to save him, you do not have to apologize for this, it was my decision, sweetheart, to come with you, and if it wasn't for me , you or neteyam would have gotten hurt, i wouldn't want my babies to be hurt, would i?" You said laughing but he just cried harder in your neck. Kissing his forehead you pulled both of your kids tightly against you, they were your world and even the thought of them getting hurt made cold shivers run down your spine, your family was safe and that's all you needed even if it meant you had to go through all this you would without hesitation.**

Neytiri made you warm broth, blowing on to the hot liquid she brought the spoon to your lips for you to drink. Why was she feeding you? Obviously lo'ak and tuk haven't left your side plus to add to it, now Jake, kiri and neteyam were attached to you as well, the only time neytiri wasn't beside you was when she got up to make something for you to eat.

Lo'ak made it his life mission to help you with each and every task, even when neteyam and Jake tried to have some time with you, lo'ak was always in between. He was not gonna let his mama get hurt again and this time he will keep his promise at all cost even when you made it clear you can eat your lunch with your own two hands. At night neytiri and Jake fought with their kids on who will sleep besides you, tuk always won while everyone got one chance every night. Jake got a lot more protective but his two sons surpassed him in that as well, neteyam and lo'ak were becoming your two personal bodyguards.

Life was becoming normal again, your family was granted access to stay with the metkayina, you sat near the shore with your mates as you watched tuk search for pretty shells, your other children were swimming with the Olo'eyktan's kids, you sighed placing your head on Jake's shoulder and intertwined you fingers with neytiri, she scooted closer to you and kissed your forehead, you smiled at her touch, turning your head to look at her, her smile melted your heart even now, after years of being together your love for her never faltered, Jake just pulled you both closer, him just happy his life was finally at peace, both his mates happy and contented, all three of them sat on the shore, full to the brim with love for eachother, overlooking their children as the sun casted beautiful shades of pinks, oranges and reds throughout the sky.

A/n : i love Jake and neytiri with my life 🥹 they are my babies, if you wanna be tagged in my fics comment on my pinned post on my blog💚✨

Yawne : @fanboyluvr, @callmeoncette, @lu-the-ghost-reader, @brisbriskett, @saltedcoffeescotch, @ducks118, @itscheybaby, @jackiehollanderr, @zoetrope1997, @yeosxxx, @persefolli, @im-in-a-pansexual-panik.

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mqverick · 5 months

Text

red murder || . ｡˚ ✧

mature themes, 18+

blood mentioned, consider yourselves warned

“Shower me in blood, child

Shower me in lipstick.”

·:*────────── ✮ ───────── *:·

A biblical angel. The meaningless chatter of the riches was faintly evident in the atmosphere as you locked eyes with someone, who you didn’t know at all, who had such a striking stare into, not only your weak eyes, but also your entire body. He looked like a biblical figure, an angel perhaps, but there was something about the way he stood, shoulder lazily leaned against the velvet curtain, that pegged him not to be a creature of purity.

No, he was so distinguished and poignant, that it made you forget who you even were. Despite the fact that he was the one boring into your soul, you found yourself inexplicably dependent upon the gaze he’d cast on you, as if your heart would simply get squeezed stopped if he looked away.

Captivating could be another word to describe the façade of the luscious blonde haired stranger, eyes politely stiffed into the pockets of his expensive, elegant coat, decorated by golden buttons that shone under the dim light of the room. His eyes were either gray or hazy blue; either way they drew you in dangerously, causing you to get deeply lost in their shadowy gravitation. You wondered why he was, only for the sake of it, knowing well that the chances of getting to see him outside of the gathering were close to zero. Nevertheless, your insides turned painfully up and down as he kept the eye contact strong as ever, mind twisting at the thought of what he could possibly be thinking about.

Whoever he was, you hoped dearly that he’d have no ability to read minds, otherwise you were as good as gone. You were still young and inexperienced, but that never stopped your imagination. The corners of his lips turned into a slight smirk as he finally looked away, giving you the chance to regain control over yourself and remember how it felt to breathe. Who was he?

You opted to avoid approaching him, dreading the inevitable possibility of fainting upon his aristocratic stance. You walked into the mass of the crowd, fading into the pretentious laughters and snickers, heart beating fast into your chest as you placed your gloved hand over it on your chest, hoping it’d help it get back to its steady rhythm. You found escape in a dark hallway.

You felt dizzy just by the look of a wanderer in a charity ball. You took a deep breath, squeezed your eyes shut to regain your consciousness and let your pupils blur back to their senses. Your chest heaved painfully when you caught sight of his piercing icy eyes glowing into the obscurity of the room. You need to run, a tiny voice rang in your head, but the buzzing sounds of the blood pumping right into your ears was too loud to not cover the challenging warnings of your inner conscience. Your legs stayed frozen in place, blood running cold in your throbbing veins.

He finally approached you, slowly but with steady steps. The limited light blended with his skin, which you could still barely make out as his eyes moved up and down your body. He looked abnormal once again and you wanted to scream from the top of your lungs, but something inside you prevented you from making the smallest sound. You opted for playing it nonchalant.

“Have we met?” you asked firmly, eyebrows knitting together at the soft chuckle he let out.

“I believe not, at least not yet. I’ve noticed you. From across the room you captured my attention,” the curves of his mouth went up slightly as the smirk on his face grew larger and evidently smugger. “Don’t be nervous, my love.”

“Me nervous?” you asked, voice trembling now.

“Indeed you are, no? The way you’re standing here just like you stood back in the main room, all by yourself. Legs weak, the small shake of your knees… I can see it all.” His eyes wandered down your neck, growing particularly fond of the little vein there pump your warm, sweet blood. You followed his gaze, unable to see what he was so fixated on, catching back his attention as you pulled your sleeve higher up the shoulder in a kind of discomfort that you couldn’t really explain.

“What are you?” you found yourself questioning.

Not who, but what. The name and origin of the man did not concern you as much as how he possibly managed to look so pale, yet stand alive in front of you very eyes, with such a pompous demeanor. He chuckled, still intensely gazing at the side of your neck, down to your collarbone, then back at your lips. Shivers ran down your spine, but you kept your calmness, at least on the outside. You slightly tilted your head and waited for an answer, but instead, he gave you a smile.

One that you could not read for the sake of it.

Was he enjoying holding you in the emotional state of mind that you were in that moment, while he stood barely five steps away from you? you pondered quietly in your head, but it was almost as the man in front of you could read every single thought behind that head of yours. Your heart drummed against your chest, you backed away with every small step he took closer to you.

“Don’t be frightened, my love. I mean no harm.”

The tone of his voice and newfound appearance, that you’d truly never seen in any other person before, pegged you to think otherwise. “Quit calling me that,” you gritted through your teeth.

“Fine. Maybe I do mean you a little harm.” He burst out in chuckles the second he noticed your eyes slightly widen at his statement. You were at loss of words — what was so amusing to him?

“What is it that you need from me?” you tried again, but there was nothing you could possibly elicit from him that wasn’t a snarky snicker or stomach aching smirk. Your eyes fogged with fear and an inexplicable desire for knowing him better as you watched him grin the same time your pulse quickened significantly. You took another cautionary step back. He took one forward.

“I want to give you the choice…” he said carefully upon the cell of your ear, long fingers coming up to slightly graze against the skin of your jawline. He lets the sharp edge of his metallic ring barely, just barely, follow the curve of your cheek, causing a thin, white line to form as he pressed with enough force to just see a scar forming, but not letting any blood come out of it. You couldn’t help but feel the sensation of pure bliss to the way he touched your face, even though the voice that urged you to save yourself and run was getting louder and louder by every passing second. “…That I never had. You could come with me, spend the rest of your life by my side, be the companion that I’ve longed for for years.”

Your heart was racing. You were astonished by the choice — half of a choice, you’d call it, since he hadn’t given you the second part of it yet — he’d proposed. You could feel every vein, either thick or thin, pump wildly the blood through it, until it reached up in your brain, blinding it completely from any logic you’d ever owned. “And why shall I be the companion of a man I’ve barely spoken five words to?” you replied sarcastically.

“Because I could take all the pain away. Give you a life like mine… where pain, suffering and death don’t exist. I could make you stronger, faster, smarter, give you all that the world has to offer, that you mortals never seem to seize… or even understand. You could be forever youthful. Just give yourself to me.” Your breath got suddenly stuck in your throat, a look of shock temporarily wrapping around your reddening eyes as you kept them open, momentarily forgetting how to blink.

“And what would happen if I don’t wish for that?”

He looked up, as if mockingly enough for your poor naivety, then swiftly grabbed you by the throat, your voice disappearing instantly. His fingers gripped around the sides and you felt his ring hurting into the skin, but it felt as though he’d cast some sort of spell that could not enable the sense to escape or even speak. “I could take your life away and no one would even come to find you,” he whispered gently in your ear.

Once he removed his hand from around your neck, you could finally start breathing again as the dizzying blur slowly faded away. He looked at you with anticipation, waiting for your reply.

“And how shall you ever do that? I could scream right now and have you be the one lying dead.”

“So blissfully unaware…” he mumbled softly, and like a ray of light, you heard him hiss as something sharp — the hard surface of… teeth… more specifically fangs? — threateningly bordered on the lower side of your exposed neck, which he held with his hand, tilting your head towards the wall that was across from you.

The epiphany hit you so suddenly and quickly that you had to refrain yourself from yelping, now finally out of the state of oblivion you danced around into. A vampire. A vampire, you figured, kept muttering in your hallowing brain in order to genuinely get yourself to pull out of the fanzines of what could’ve been a dreadful nightmare, when it was reality, hard, cold reality splashing into you like a bucket of freezing ice water.

“I’d rather you finish me than make me that loathsome creature of your own,” you struggled to breathe out, nevertheless the voice came out firm and dominant, to which Lestat turned a blind eye to as he moved up closer, invading your personal space and almost having you pinned against the rocky surface of the wall behind you.

“Your wish shall be my command, my child.”

The last thing that you remembered before a soul consuming cloud of darkness covered the bright ability of vision you owned was the faded blur of the vampire kneeling down, as you slowly began to lose sense and control over your own legs and brain. Lestat, as you’d found out his name was, had been sitting by your side on the maroon silky sheets of his own bed, carefully running his long, skinny fingers through your neat locks. The way the lamp on his nightstand shone made your hair look like they were going to catch on fire. The vampire hummed in pleasure as he let his eyes flutter shut for just one second, during which he only came in contact with the feel of your velvety hair that so smoothly rolled around his steady digits. A first blink, then another. You were in a room that you didn’t recognize, nor felt comfortable in. Your pupils were dilated as you awoke from the slumber, sclera pinkish to red instead of white, as if you’d been crying.

Nothing about the setting felt familiar. Your sighting soon got restored and the heart was caught inside your throat when you laid your eyes upon his face, golden hair falling on top of his shoulders, face pale — almost white — but still beautiful; like he was filled with life, as ironic as that may be. Suddenly, you were hit with all the memories that ruggedly formed into your brain before you’d fallen unconscious on him at that ball. You pulled back, your head just an inch from hitting the wall behind as he laughed amusedly.

“Wake up… I’ve waited for so long to hear you speak once more…” he spoke in a gentle whisper that almost felt like a lingering caress on your cheek, his eyes glittering in the dim light. “Wake up, my love.”

Your limbs were somewhat trembling, power of defense against him unknown, as you fought back the urge to scream from the top of your lungs, unable to prevent his next move. There was something about the way he’d sat next to you, all so calm and unbothered, you almost wished you knew what was going on in his mind behind those light blue — almost gray — eyes. It had caused a newfound sense of anxiousness for the unexpected to pit deeply into the curves of your stomach, retinas glossy and puffy as he moved his hand on top of yours. You retrieved it immediately, but the action didn’t seem to dishearten him enough to cut the physical contact with you. Instead, it encouraged him to stomp even further into your space, cold index finger lightly, almost caring, grazing the outline of your chin’s shuddering skin.

It felt rewarding for Lestat; having you in such a state of mind, helpless, completely at his mercy. Your fate depended solely upon him and him only, even if that meant you’d have to beg him to spare you. He had no hostile intentions towards you, though, just simply enjoyed the way the terror entered your body, as you fought against it.

“Don’t be afraid,” he cooed, but you snorted.

“You spoke the same words earlier and here I am, in the house of a stranger, vainly trying to gather back my senses.” The tone of your voice was still on the same line that you’d left it during the first conversation with him at the ball. If Lestat was blind, he would’ve foolishly believed you weren’t frightened by him at all, which excited him.

How was it possible that such a beautiful creature, human amongst humans, had managed to evade his attention all that time? The tip of his thumb padded the side of your jawline softly, rubbing small circles there. “You’re troubled, my dear. I must refrain from my nature if I want to have you by my side, thus you shall not be scared about my actions towards you.”

“And why such kindness, if I may ask?”

Lestat’s eyes lingered on each feature of your face as he drank in the image of you, the woman who had captivated him, as much to the character as to the looks. The hair delicately falling on your shoulders, stopping just before the curve of your breasts, which was deep enough for him to study, every detail of each curve. The fear that consumed you in that very moment, as he sat so close to you, made something in him stir, a hunger that could not and would not be denied.

“Your human nature… it fascinates me.” His grin broadened, his voice thick with desire. He slowly reached out, brushing away the hair on your soft cheek. “The way you perceive things so fiercely, even though death threatens you at every second. Mortality is a curse, my love. I would save you from it. But I have no need for your blood.”

“Oh, Lestat, but you’re a fool, I’m afraid,” you spoke with a satisfied smirk upon your lips. He tilted his head in confusion, still seemingly intrigued nevertheless. “Immortality makes a man miserable. You forget to love and live. And what is the purpose that you’ve brought me here for? Be your eternal companion? I’ll never be yours. Let the years make me your slave for as much time shall pass, but the end of my life will come and find me one day, and I’ll be free again.”

Lestat’s brows furrowed in frustration as he took your words in. “You’re such an ungrateful woman,” he gritted through his teeth, the previous sweetness of his voice now completely gone. There was a small fire burning in his eyes, but that didn’t frighten you either, seeing as you preferred him to kill you in rage rather than sugar talk you with fake desires. Your heart pounded.

“If you don’t let me go on your own terms, I’m going to scream. Kill me for it, if you must, I won’t bring any resistance. I’m giving you a choice.”

The irony of your own choice of words made Lestat’s blood boil. You, a no one human being, had the audacity to twist his words into a joke?

“Scream all you like, my dear. It would serve you no purpose.” And as soon as the sentence left his mouth, you screamed from the top of your lungs for help, eyes watering in anticipation. Lestat got up from the bed, leaned against the wall as he crossed his hands across his chest, waiting.

He watched you with his typical air of amusement as you screamed in terror. Finally, a maid entered the chamber, concern and stress written all over her tired face from the yell that had echoed all the way downstairs. Her poor French accent soon died down her lips as she asked “Ce qui s’est passé?” while looking around for any suspicious actions. Lestat took her by the throat, sinking his fangs deeply into the collarbone as he used the sharp ring on his thumb to cut a small line there open, killing her faster. The blood began to pour down the entire floor, thick, dark and warm. He looked refreshed as he pulled away, throwing her limb body onto the ground as you watched in utter fear and disgust. Not the tiniest hint of a sound was able to come out of you as you covered your mouth in shock, tears rolling down your cheeks. Your entire body felt electrified.

Lestat smiled, savoring your qualm. He came back closer to where you were sat, shaking his head in disapproval. “Look what you’ve caused now… Are you happy with yourself?” You turned to glare at him, flames shooting through your red eyes as he kept trying to hold a laugh back.

“You’re foul! That woman was not involved!”

Suddenly, his face hardened. “I told you no one would come to help you,” he spoke, standing over you, the blood of the maid dripping down his cheek, painting his clothed chest like an empty canvas. “You have no choice but to turn to me, for I am the only chance you have at survival.”

“I loathe you,” you gritted through your teeth.

Lestat couldn’t help but smile at your disdain. He approached you slowly, his eyes moving up your body and then to your neck. His tongue darted out to wet his lips as he spoke once more, his voice a whisper. “Good. Use that hatred. Hate me as much as you desire. It won’t stop you from coming to me, it’ll only make the urge stronger.”

You sighed, falling back into the bed as your hands clasped tightly over your eyes, hair messy and unruly as part of you accepted that his words weren’t just a figment of imagination. Somehow, you’d found yourself deeply lost into his midwinter eyes, ebbed ever so gently with cement, accentuated every feature of his sharp characteristics, glistening like stars melted in platinum. You wanted more, just like the way he’d predicted; more of those eyes, of his life, of who and how he turned into a vampire, if he missed his mortality at all, whether or not he enjoyed poetry as much as you did…

Ravishing was a way to put it. Lestat had wrapped you helplessly around his angelic — or was it even demonic? — charm, pulling you in further and further just like core electrons are tightly bound to the nucleus. You wished to escape from the invisible grasp, but you couldn’t.

“Do you miss your mortality, Lestat?” you asked out of nowhere and he looked a bit taken aback by your choice of question. Nevertheless, he came and sat back by your side on the bed, allowing himself to admire the way the silky fabric of your dress had fallen just a tad down your smooth shoulders.

“At times I do…” he spoke without hesitating, his voice a gentle, almost scared, murmur as his eyes fell to the ground. “There are times when I yearn for the sensation of being human once more. I miss the sense of wonder and discovery that comes with being mortal, and the feeling of truly experiencing life for the first time...” He looked back up at you in front of him a faint smile curling on his lips. “You remind me of that feeling, my love. That is why I chose you.”

You sighed in defeat and despair. There was no possible way out of this, you reckoned, just needed to find the will and strength to make amends with what the future held for you.

───

The following night, you allowed him to dress you up in the prettiest dress you’d ever laid upon your body. The burgundy colour and the rich, but delicate fabric fell down your curves so harmoniously that Lestat looked mesmerized by the way it draped over you. He’d complimented your figure as lovely and even though the certain choice of words had given your mind a little dizzy spin, you’d shown zero reaction to him. Instead, you followed him, arm strictly wrapped around his own as you strolled down the dark paths, before he opened the door to a ravishing ball for you. The memories came crashing down like a violent wave of déjà vu, that you so desperately wanted to wash off your mind.

Ironically enough, with your arms entangled, you felt some inexplicable sort of safety. You didn’t recognize any of the people there, but Lestat had promised you a fancy night out, just for the sake of it — and who were you to say no? He narrated the background of the marquess, who was sat royally in the middle of the main hall, two young male servants on each side of where her chair was placed, laughing politely along with her.

“See her? That’s the widow St. Clair. She had that young fop murder her husband,” he whispered lowly into your ear, causing the small hairs on the back of your neck to tingle. You gave him a strange and unconvinced look.

“How dare you speak such words of felony?”

“I can read her thoughts,” Lestat’s voice rang clear, that same soft murmur filling his throat. He looked at you with a playful grin; he enjoyed watching your expressions as you came into realization of the extent of his abilities. He also noticed your sudden freeze, and the corners of his lips broadened. “The thoughts run deep inside a mortal’s mind. They’re so easy to read, and so tempting to listen to,” he whispered. His voice was soft, sensual as he came even closer to you...

“And… and you’ve invaded my thoughts already, I shall presume?” You didn’t need an answer to your own question, already confidently aware of what his reply would be. “What am I thinking of?”

His tone was gentle as his own thoughts wandered inside of your mind, listening to the sounds of your consciousness and the things you thought of. “You’re wondering why I’m even bringing you to such a social gathering. You’re contemplating a way to get out of it... but you’re also secretly curious as to what kind of people will be attending such an event,” he leaned into your ear, his breath coming out warm against your skin. “You’re scared, my love. I can hear your heart accelerating in your chest. The faint sounds of your mind wandering into unknown territory.”

Your cheeks grew red and the saliva barely made it past your throat as it slithered down the length of it in a painful manner. He’d read you like an open book and you didn’t even have to speak a word out loud for him to come to said assumption. It indeed terrified you; how he’d been able to invade the privacy of your own mind, how you weren’t and would never be able to stop him from doing such thing, simply because the desire to stay in peace was beyond your power.

Lestat let a small smirk cross over his face as you blushed. He had found it was rather humorous how he could always seem to have this effect on you. “Don’t be shocked. It’s a trick I’ve learned over my years as a vampire. It’s… become something I hold no control over; if I focus on one person too long, I can hear the innermost secrets of their mind, their desires… their sins.”

“Their desires, you say…?”

You couldn’t help the question when it flew out of your mouth, just like a young child yearning for knowledge of its world. Lestat smirked.

“Yes. Even their most intimate desires... it’s quite intriguing to see the depths of the mortal realm.”

“I want to know about your desires, in that case.”

“Is that so?” his low voice was inviting, close to seductive, you beckoned. His eyes momentarily took a glance at your long legs and the way the dress fell over them, before you spoke again.

“It’s only fair since you know my own ones, already. And don’t even dare deny such thing, I know for a fact that you’ve done it.”

“How perceptive of you, my beloved,” Lestat’s voice was still a soft whisper, tracing the outline of the call of your ear, and he stepped even closer to your side. His breath hitched slightly as he took in the scent of your skin, your femininity. His eyes traced down to your lips again, and his own desires came to life. “At this moment, my desires are simple... they include the two of us alone… together... no one else.”

“No one else…” you repeated with a fragile tone.

The vampire’s voice lowered as his eyes wandered down your body once more, taking in the way your chest rose and fell with your short breaths. “I imagine the two of us without the noise of the crowded ballroom. The way that no one else is there to hinder us… our bodies would merge together, with no one around to intrude as, you and I… free to do as we please.” His mind wandered to the possibility of you alone in his room, of what you could do.

“Oh?” you encouraged him to go on, as if less than twenty four hours ago, you hadn’t uttered out that you loathed him. “You’re always so poetic when you want to end up in bed with someone, Lestat? Speak more to me with what we’d do. In this volume of voice… these words…”

You were undoubtedly washed with a sense of newfound arousal for the vampire and it didn’t escape his attention. His voice had grown raspy with the words that poured from him, a certain type of hunger coming over him as you listened.

“I can’t help but wonder about your sudden change of heart,” he chuckled with a smirk.

“I’m weak at this very moment and I’m letting you take advantage of it. We’ll go back to your manor and we’ll have all the privacy we need… we can spend the night alone, together, as you said.”

His eyes were locked on yours as his mind continued to drift away into those lustful desires. He craved you, wanted you in a way that not even his vampire nature could fully comprehend. Your hands curled around the lapels of his silky shirt and you then run your fingers all the way down his body until they clasped around his own hands.

You couldn’t tell how the time passed, finding yourself from one moment to another; from a fancy, loud ballroom, to a oaken, hand carved door that led into a lavish French-furnished bedroom, which you had —oh, so well — gotten used to. There were heavy shades on the window, an almost magical mosquito netting falling across the sides from the bed, like golden tears. You looked around for a moment, trying to help the blur of your thoughts to comprehend that this was beyond a dream reality, that it was life.

Life, as ironic as it might seem.

Lestat walked behind you as he shut the door, step light and slow. He took his time with tracing the outline of your shoulder blades that the dress allowed you to reveal, his index finger gracefully teasing the skin with only the physical contact of the digit and the bit of the nail that stuck out. His breath hitched when his hand travelled lower on your back, right hand coming up to twirl the tip of the zipper playfully, silently asking you for permission for his next move. He’d ordered all the staff to leave, so that when you’d entered through the mansion’s doors, he’d locked it behind them.

He could see you hesitate, not that he cared much about it. It was certain to Lestat that once the silence fell in, you’d come to be too focused on your intimacy with him to think back on your own emotional barriers. His assumptions proved true, once he quickly unzipped your dress and you looked back at him from over your shoulder with parted lips, not complaining, not asking him to stop. His eyes were almost sparkling as the candle light flickered on your pale face.

“Lestat…” you hummed, mostly as a plead.

But he didn’t say anything back, just picked you up in his arms, laid you upon the velvet sheets of his bed and getting on top, his gaze captivating and unnerving, head tilting to the side so that he could plant a trail of wet, sensual kisses all the way down to your neck, his tongue resting against the veins that popped out as you stretched your head backward for better access.

Lestat’s body was pressed flushed against yours, his now wrinkled shirt fallen down midway through his shoulders, revealing his bare chest as his mouth travelled further down, his left hand gripping around your neck. He moaned softly as he tasted the sweet scent of your skin, the feeling of your pulse rising against his own body.

“Please,” his voice was an alluring murmur as he spoke, his thumb stroking your collarbone. He could feel the desire growing within him to posses you, take you as his own. “Let me have you.”

───

You reckoned it was still nighttime when your heavy eyelids began fluttering open. You recognised the sound of a soft snore next to your ear, a pair of still wet and plump lips caressing and tickling the spot right below your earlobe. You slightly rose from the bed, careful as to not disturb Lestat and rubbed your eyes, but you instantly regretted the action, seeing as the chilly weather trapped inside the huge room caused your underdressed body to shiver. You brought the covers close to your chin and appreciated Lestat’s features. His body next to you didn’t offer much warmth, but the just feeling of having him there in such state had your cheeks matching a crimson shade of red. You hummed in pleasure.

You didn’t mean to wake him, nor made any sound to achieve such thing, but somehow, he’d half-opened his stunning eyes. You were still afraid of him, even if it was somewhat there. He smiled unintentionally when he acknowledged your presence, but didn’t say a word.

“This… it doesn’t have to mean anything,” you were quick to speak in a shaky voice. He only offered you a chuckle in response, bringing a hand out to brush the hair that fell into your face back behind your cheek, hugging you closer to his body. You wanted to attempt to feel his heartbeat, but somehow, your own was loud enough to cover any other possibly existing sound.

Lestat pulled the blanket over the two of you and rested the side of his face on top of your head as he laid a gentle kiss on your forehead. You closed your eyes again and he leaned closer, his lips hovering just above yours with his breath being warm and inviting, as if beckoning you to merge with his own body. “Dream of me, my darling.”

───

You poured the second steep and drank out of the fine china cup, noticing the fragrance of the tea. Sweet Vietnamese cinnamon with a hint of floral honeysuckle that began to wrap around your head like the ‘I rivali di se stessi’. You’d really outdone yourself with the tea, finding the variety of herbs and scents in Lestat’s kitchen a joyful surprise to kill time with. You’d woken to the sound of what was almost identical to the pitter patter of sensuous rain on the windowsill. You saw him sitting at the huge, shining black instrument that looked like the sky on a cool summer night, coaxing impossibly soothing and amazing melodies from it. Lestat seemed lost as his fingers flew over the keys like swallows darting in a pond for fish. You sat on the couch across from him and sipped your tea with tired eyes.

“Why’d you stop?” you questioned once the sound was gone and his fingers were just resting on top of his knees. His breath was lost, too.

“You want me to keep playing?” His voice was hoarse and rasped, and he seemed to have lost some of the energy he had when you’d first met him. You pondered the reason, but not out loud.

“Sure.” He began to play again, the same slow, sad melody. You couldn’t help but wonder if it reflected the way he’d been feeling inside. As his fingers strolled through the keys, he looked at you from time to time, almost as if he wanted to say something, but his words always failed him before. “…When did you learn to play?”

“Hm?” He looked away from the piano briefly, his hand not stopping from playing. He didn’t seem to expect the question however, and so he felt a bit taken back. He began to speak slowly, as if he had to think about his answer a little. “My mother taught me how to play. She was a musician and she was very talented. She was a pianist...” He paused to think again. He didn’t want you to know much about his past, especially his human years, but he didn’t want you to think that he was just trying to change the subject either.

“Oh?”

“Yes…” Lestat replied softly, his tone remained steady. “She taught me how to play music, but also helped me understand it. It’s a form of… expressing, even if you can’t physically say it, you play it. Play with your heart, your emotions.”

His hand continued under the same melody, although his voice felt a bit more nostalgic. Still, you watched intently, your eyes following his every movement slightly from over the cup you held against your lips. You’d taken a fancy to the way he spoke sometimes, to his life and past.

“Did you have any family? I mean, besides your mom…” You knew the question was wrong and uncalled for, but it felt as though a burden leapt out from your body as it left your curious mouth. Lestat removed his hands from the instrument and got up. The heart trapped against your ribs was hammering, unable to know what feelings and memories of his you’d just triggered.

“Family?”

“Yeah,” you assured him. He didn’t seem any kin to reply to your question, however. “I’ve run away from mine. Mother held a knife to my throat every time settling down was mentioned amongst the family dinners. Said I’m old enough to convert to a church and become a nun. I don’t particularly care for marriage or any other form of settling down for that matter. I’ve got a free spirit that won’t rest until I travel in every inch of the world.”

You noticed him smile a little, weakly. But you could see him hesitating, hold back, suddenly all stiff. You asked him again about his family, but the only thing you managed to get out of him was a defeated murmur about the story having faded along the line, that it didn’t matter anymore.

“My story is much similar to yours… but it’s a long one, and it’s mostly full of unpleasant memories,” he said softly. Lestat could see in your gaze an unspoken desire to know more of his past, but he couldn’t allow you to witness the ugly side of him just yet. You urged to push him to reveal more, nevertheless, genuinely interested and curious.

“You ran away too?”

“It’s none of your concern to know that.”

His tone raised, frustrated now. You’d hit a nerve, it was certain, but would you risk to upscale his mood, whose limitations you hadn’t explored yet? You simply stared at him as he walked towards the heavy, red and golden curtains, turning his back at you. It wasn’t hard to realise that he couldn’t bare look at you, that if he did, you might’ve taken advantage of reading the raw emotions across his features, a curse that followed him through his early teenage years, up until for all eternity — as the future held to him.

“Whose concern is it then? I don’t see anyone else trapped in this prison of a manor!”

“Prison... prison?!” Lestat heard the comment, and it caused him to feel anger stir inside of him. You didn’t know what a prison felt like, this estate and this mansion was... “This estate is not a prison,” he said harshly, before yanking you by the arm and dragging you across the room in swift movements, all the way down to the basement.

The door that opened to the cold and damp room was torn down, old enough that the woody material on it had lost its brownish colour. Instead, it was a light beige, spider webs all over the rusty metal mechanisms that held it together. He pushed you inside, throwing you with force that caused you to miss your step and fall flat painfully against the dusty ground. He slammed the door behind you as he got in, teeth gritted.

“What the devil is going on inside your sick mind?!” you screamed, getting up back on your legs as you dusted your dress off. Your eyes matched his, sharp, snapping as they glowered.

“You want to live in a prison, yes? Have my blessing in that case,” he responded. You’d insulted him, the place he owned and grew himself up in. He held the door handle shut as he leaned against the door with his back facing it, patiently awaiting for your pleads to let you go. You understood that he wasn’t planning on freeing you any time soon and the anger bubbled within your nerves, matches starting fires in your head and heart. You didn’t mean the words that came out of you in the unfortunate moment, or maybe you did, to some extent, but it still hurt.

“I understand now why the memories of your family must be so unpleasant. No one would want a child like you, so arrogant and selfish. I pity the poor people!” Each letter escaped from your lips with poisonous stabs in Lestat’s heart.

He was stunned as the words reached his ears, hadn’t expected you to resort yourself in such a low place. “Is that so?” He needed to stay mad, slap you, punish you — do something, but all he could bring himself to dwell on were his years as a child, a human. He stared at you, reminiscing every detail, getting to live in his mortal body and soul for one last time as you speechlessly stared back at him, not finding the courage to apologize for the cruel level you’d stooped to. He heard you mutter his name as he almost broke the door in attempt of pushing it open, disappearing into his bedroom and locking himself inside. Ironically, his coffin felt freezing that night.

Lestat had lost the sense of understanding the climate around him a few centuries ago.

───

The next day passed and you still felt shaken. Lestat, with his usual tenderness toward you, had disappeared. Hadn’t spoken one word to you, not even walked in the same direction as you. It was weird how he’d managed such thing, seeing as you both lived under the same roof. The bed of one of the many guest rooms you’d chosen to hid into had been a ghost before your legs. It felt uncomfortable, unwelcoming, unable to hold your presence on it. You spent the night before scribbling drawings on a yellow paper you’d found in one of the nightstand’s drawers, not knowing what else to do with yourself. Twenty four hours being alone in a house with at least more than one lonely person. You took a deep breath and decided you needed to find him, see how he was doing. You’d softened towards him, it seemed, in less time than you’d expected. Your brain was still terrified to accept the idea of it, but the aching inside of your heart didn’t give it any other option.

You walked outside of the room and searched for him everywhere. Yvette told you she’d last seen him go outside. Back upstairs, you heard the soft sound of water running into the main bathroom and curiously walked over, leaning against the door just for a peak. Your mouth dropped and you shrieked loudly in unexpected terror. The bathtub went by the shade of an almost black red, thick, even if it merged with the water. There were bubbles covering the top and Lestat smirking next to it as he took a step closer.

“I prepared a bath for you,” he announced with a smile. You lost your voice along with every other possible function of your system. Lestat looked for a moment, the blood in it did fill him with a certain hunger that he had not felt before. He could almost taste it; the thought of you coming into the tub was almost alluring, he had imagined how you would look in that water... and how you would taste inside that water... he was salivating.

“W—Wh…What did you do?” you asked, your voice trembling, horrified at the freak show.

“What do you think I did?” his words came out with a cold tone, as he stared at you. His face was a bit grim, yet still his eyes were detailed with a certain lust. “You’re going to ask why, I assume. Why did I kill them…? Or why did I bring their blood here?” his voice was full of sarcasm as he spoke, he was making you more confused and scared, but this time, he was not planning to back down to your puzzled feelings and expressions.

“Both… Both!” You felt your knees weaken as you crumbled to the door behind you, the smell of the blood causing vomit to erupt in your throat. He looked at you as you collapsed upon the doorframe, the sound of your gag causing him to smirk a little. You had successfully lost all sense of control, and that was beyond pleasing to him.

“I killed them because I needed fresh blood,” he said slowly, he would not tell you anything more. A step closer, then a hand pointing at the tub, which haunted your soul. “Get in the tub.”

“No. No… no — no — you can’t… you can’t…!” You couldn’t speak. Your eyes were teary and your face had paled and he looked happier than ever. Lestat didn’t want to hear your plead, he didn’t want to hear you beg for mercy. His desire was taking over him, and now that he had killed a few poor slaves in the woods and the bloodlust inside of him had grown in intensity.

“You don’t have a choice.” He then walked towards you, his movements slow and precise. He wished to take what he wanted from you, no matter what you’d do to convince him otherwise. You’d cut deep with your previous words, which never went unnoticed nor forgotten. “I want to shower you in blood, my child.”

His eyes had grown a bright crimson as he got close to you, pulling you into his grip. You thought you were about to pass out, your body limped down on the floor, unable to move or resist. Lestat could feel your weakness, your fragility as you leaned against the door. One more pull and he began to drag you away from the wooden entry. You got more and more ill as the smell got stronger, your mind buzzing as his devious laughter echoed in it. Your throat was closing up and the need for air was growing more immense with your every weak breath. “Why are… you doing this?” you mustered with a middle pause.

“Because of what you said.”

“B-Because of what I… Leave! Let me go!”

You were kicking the air, panicking, trying to run away from him in desperate attempts. He smiled, twirled around your helpless body and hummed the melody of an old Italian song. The tears fell from your eyes artistically, in a way that they almost resembled the expulsion of Adam and Eve from Paradise, your hands clutching on every item possible for a steady grasp that would still his intentions, free you from them. As your ultimate option, you resulted in begging with choked sobs. The pleads caught him off guard.

He couldn’t tell if it was truly fear, or a ploy of some kind to get out of the situation. He was hesitant, yet still had a choice to make, and the limitations highlighted the accident of choosing poorly due to the temper of the moment. He could feel the moisture dripping from your eyes as you begged him not to do this to you, but the hunger for the fright your vocal chords held was still there, distracting him from judging correctly.

“You mocked me…” there was still a hint of anger in his voice, but not the overwhelming kind. In fact, he felt more collected than ever. You’d brought this situation upon yourself…

“This… Lestat, please, please, I want this to end, please…” you sobbed into the comfort of his neck, your arms wrapping around him as they trembled. Lestat could feel you shaking against him as you sobbed. The intensity that he had felt was now fading, a little empathy rising towards you for the first time since you’d insulted him. Your fear made you seem so much weaker, so much more vulnerable, and it made his heart hurt as he looked at you, unfamiliar with this side of you.

He couldn’t stay mad. And he had to let you go.

“You’re making it difficult for me to keep you safe. As much from others as from myself...” he said softly as he loosened his grip on you, his hand holding your arm now was a soft and gentle one. It was not the grip of a killer, it was the grip of a lover. Yet his eyes were a reminder, still burning.

“This… it’s a nightmare, right? None of this happened. The tub… it’s just a nightmare?” you asked him, deluding yourself into a lie that you believed would calm you down. You were still on the verge of passing out, your eyes heavy and swollen as they blinked the remaining tears away.

“Yes... it’s just a horrible nightmare,” he spoke softly as he kept holding onto you, he wanted to lie to you if that meant that you’d start feeling safe around him again, comfortable, that you’d forget all about the tub. He could tell you were still scared, even if you had relaxed a little. He would not allow you to be afraid, did not want you to remember any of this. He only wanted you to remember being safe in his arms.

“I’ll wake up to your bed tomorrow?”

“Indeed.”

“I need to go to your bed…” you murmured under your breath, your eyes half-lidded as he nodded and took you in his arms. Your head rested on top of his shoulder and you couldn’t really tell what was happening around you; what was real and what was not, but in your mind, it mattered no more than a useless piece of information. Lestat carried you all the way to his bedroom and helped you on the bed, as he removed a few layers of clothes of his own. You found the warmth of the scent this particular bed held somewhat comforting, that you weren’t alone anymore. He came up back by your side and stroked your hair as he kept whispering in French, a language that even though you spoke less than fluently, always seemed tricky to understand.

“Tu as un beau cou.” The poorly spoken words grazed just the outline of his vampire fangs as they left his mouth and embraced your throat. Lestat leaned down just a little to place a lingering kiss on the side of your neck, right were your pulse was beating — throbbing — in a way of letting you know that he’d provide you with eternal safety; even from his own self. He cherished the satisfied tiny moans you let out as his promises hugged your soul and sighed. Even with your presence around, his room still felt cold and for a moment he allowed himself to wonder if it’d feel the same way in case he were a human.

“Je sais, mon amour,” he heard you sheepishly reassure him, not understanding in the slightest how you’d managed to do such thing in all your tiredness and corpse-like state. He was the one with the ability to read the mortal mind, yet it seemed like you’d known every inch and depth of his darkest and deepest thoughts since the moment you laid eyes on him. And oh, how he wished you hadn’t. Because Lestat refused love.

He refused the idea of love, thought of it as something miserable and pessimistic, because how could anyone devote themselves so much to a person to forget their own problems and beliefs. Poems, philosophy, theatre, music; they all refused love in a way. The destructive kind.

But his head tilted to the side as he sat in his coffin, watching you descend to sleep, and suddenly he was gone from the world, helpless.

───

“I want to breathe fresh air. Your house is suffocating me,” you’d said to him only a few days later after finding the strength to look him back directly in the eyes like you weren’t afraid. He posed as a danger to you now, after the cruelty with the tub, but you were superior to any of his schemes. The walls suffocated you seeing as he barely let you walk around the town, afraid that he’d lose you, that you’d run away from him.

The sky that night was tranquil. The dark canvas of the it was adorned with countless points of light, like shimmering diamonds scattered across a velvet cloth. The celestial bodies twinkled and glimmered, casting a soft, ethereal glow that captivated the imagination. You always loved to watch the stars, to admire the constellations.

And that night, Lestat was in a good mood, so even though his reply had been hesitant at first, he’d eventually let you do as you wished. With his hand secured around yours, he’d promised to take you to his favourite place, his hiding spot as a newly discovered vampire, his memory founder. You strolled around the town, walked for what felt like several minutes. The setting was unfamiliar and the thought of getting lost crossed your anxious mind for a split second, but given to the concentration on his face, he seemed to know exactly the roads he strolled through. There was a small forest, one you’d never stumbled upon in all the years you spent in Louisiana, even though you were certain you’d walked past it at least once. The air was chilly and there were no others around in kilometers; just you and Lestat. It was the type of place that many nobles would avoid. It reminded you of the haunted forests your mother would read to you about in the night tales to put you to sleep.

“Here we are. Do you like it?” he asked as he let go of your hand, intertwining his fingers together as his hands fell over his crotch. He looked at you.

“Yeah, a lot actually. How come I’ve never known about this place before?”

“Well…” Lestat explained, “It’s an unnoticed spot. Not many appreciate its natural beauty,” he spoke softly, as he looked around the forest once again. “They’re afraid to come here at night, and they try not to pass by during day as well. I don’t know why, if that’s your next question.”

“And how did you discover it?”

“I used to come here often.” There was no use in hiding that answer. He had been a child who ran away, and during those years where he explored this vast estate, he had found this forest. He didn’t know it was haunted — according to the superstitions — back then, but even now when he was aware of it, he would come here often. He had not left for such a long time. It felt like home.

“By yourself?”

“Yes…” He knew the answer was pathetic, that it gave his longtime loneliness away, and he regretted admitting it out loud. “You know, we’re similar in more ways than just our past.”

Your eyebrow cocked in confusion. “And how is that, may I ask?” Lestat paused for a moment, as your question made him think. That part hadn’t always been so hard when it crossed his mind many nights during sleep. Perhaps it had been the fact that he didn’t have to look at you when he thought about his past, but... now he had to.

“We ran away from it. We both know what it’s like to be alone.”

“But we’re not alone anymore, isn’t that what you’re trying to say?” you listed his words before he could do it himself, your voice weary, tears burning in your eyes, even though you understood that he emotional pressure was more overwhelming for him than for you. He’d opened up to you, just a hint of it, you realised, but you couldn’t know why and it pained you.

“We’re not... I...” he grew unsure, unable to finish.

“I want to watch the stars.”

Lestat’s mouth opened as if he wanted to say something, but remained in that position, looking at you silently, surprised. “We can watch the stars,” he agreed and took you to a more open spot in the forest. It was clearer and there were less trees that would potentially block the view of the sky. The both of you sat on the grass, legs crossed as your eyes focused on the moon.

“Do you have a favourite constellation?”

Lestat thought about it for a moment. there were many stars he had been drawn to over the years, and he had studied quite a lot of them as well. But perhaps, there was one that particularly stood out to him. “Scorpio,” he said softly as he tried to look to see where it was in the night sky. His gaze was focused towards the stars as you spoke again.

“Scorpio? How so?”

“It stung Orion to death. I do the same with humans in reality. Well, drain them to death…” he paused and laid back on the grass, letting his body become one with the somber pasture. His eyes still stood out, even as the pitch black sky made it really hard to find your own step around. “It’s also one of the first constellations I studied.”

You gave him a little smile and carefully positioned yourself next to him on the ground. “I didn’t know astrology intrigued you.” Indeed it felt odd to listen to him speak about his interests, however it created an invisible bond between you. For once, he looked at the stars with company. He wanted to take your hand, show you that this was something he’d never gotten with anyone else, cherish the moment. You felt him do so, eventually, and tried not to react as if to give yourself away. “Can you guess my favourite constellation? But you shan’t read my thoughts.”

“Mm…” he considered. “Cassiopeia.”

“You read my mind,” you simply stated.

“I guessed.”

“I don’t believe you.”

“Then don’t.” He turned to look at you and so did you. He was holding back from something, it was evident in the way his Adam’s apple bobbled, the way his eyes had a bizarre shine in them that they’d only get before he was about to ask you a question he knew unlocked more and more of him to you, which he both allowed and feared.

“Go ahead,” you encouraged, even though he hadn’t asked anything at all.

“Do you believe in fate at all?” Fate, as in, everything was meant to be in a way. He couldn’t help but think of the idea as you laid down together, in the presence of the dark blue sky.

“I think fate is misery. I don’t understand why it’s got to punish us for things we didn’t even ask for to happen. It kills us all in the mind. But I do believe in it, nonetheless. We’re all its slaves.”

“Why do you believe in it if it tortures you so much?”

“I don’t know. Shouldn’t you ask yourself the same question? Sometimes we don’t have an answer, we just let things be the way they are.”

“I think that what you call misery shaped me.”

“So you’re miserable, then?”

Lestat frowned as the words came from your lips. “No,” he spoke, his tone seemed to grow a bit frustrated. “I most certainly am not miserable, but I just think…” he sighed harshly, he knew what he was trying to say — he just couldn’t explain it properly — and maybe the way you stared at him, waiting in so much anticipation made him lose his track of thoughts along with his own words.

“You want to go back inside?”

He nodded and got up, upset over the fact that the time had been cut off so shortly. He felt strangely warm, as if he’d recently fed enough to cause the blood run through his veins, and he wondered if you’d make him feel that way every time you gave him the slightest hint of attention.

The night was deep and his house hollow as you stepped into it, ready to take your separate ways in the rooms, but the boldness coursed through your neurons as you asked him if he’d like to have a sip of wine first. No, he replied, he wouldn’t wish for one, because wine no longer got him drunk or offered him any form of careless enjoyment. You just sat by yourself near his piano and grazed your fingers over the last four keys. A messy, silent melody came out and for a second, it echoed over the entire room, one, two, three times. You wondered if it symbolized how lonely Lestat was.

It felt gut wrenching, even though you knew he was unpleasant, seeing him have no one in his life. Seeing him know so much about the stars and have no soul to talk with about it. You went into your room and changed into a nightgown. The breeze from the windows made it feathery against your body as it flew a little under your arms when you entered Lestat’s bedroom without making the slightest noise. His coffin was covered; he’d fallen asleep perhaps. You seized the opportunity to give his room a sharper notice.

There was a neat black vase with golden details placed on the dresser, it even had a rose in it. A rose that had lost its bloom; it was just wrinkled, a little yellow—growing to brownish—near the edges, all dried up, dusty and ready to crumble. A soft touch on the back of your neck caused you to gasp as you turned around only to realise it was Lestat, seemingly paler than usual, for a reason.

“Did I disturb your peace of going through my stuff?” he asked, but his voice didn’t sound mad.

“I don’t want to sleep just yet.”

His eyes followed yours until they fell to the rose you were examining. With a swift twirl, he brought it around his fingers and held it in front of your face. “Pour toi, ma chérie,” he whispered with a smirk as you took it and placed it over your chest, right where your heart was still steadily beating.

“Pourquoi le gardes-tu encore? C’est pourri.”

A disheartening sigh followed by a slight shrug of his exposed shoulders. “It symbolizes a lot.”

“Like what?” you persisted. Lestat took the rose from you and rubbed it between his palms as it turned from a dead flower to dried up powder, piled up in a tiny hill on the rug. You couldn’t understand his sudden burst, the frustration within him, but you were very aware of the fact that even the slightly wronged word could snap him. He didn’t reply to the question, either, just paced forward until he reached the bed. You felt the rest of the world move in front of your very eyes in a sped up warp, you laid right below his body, unable to move in resistance. How he got you in that position was beyond your brain to comprehend and for a split second, you wished to scream, but then remembered.

Lestat lowered his semi-opened mouth right above the vein in the spot he’d first noticed back at the ball, right there, an inch upper than the collarbone, pulsing and pounding in such a sweet way that he was unable to resist the image, how it’d taste like if only he allowed his sharp fangs sink in it, have the dark red blood make a mess out of his mouth, feel the nectar drip on the skin, the tongue. Something about it was so romantic, so deep for him, but he couldn’t do it.

“Laisse-moi faire de toi un vampire, mon amour. Laisse-moi t’offrir la vie d’un Dieu,” he murmured into the side of your neck as he placed the most tender and fragile wet kisses upon it, it was the closest he could get to his request anyway.

“No, Lestat, leave!” you panicked, instantly denying. He was under control, or maybe he wasn’t, but taming the lust that grew in him wasn’t such a difficult task, you’d discovered.

“S’il te plaît,” he pleaded, stripping the sleeve of your clothing down your shoulder with his thumb. He was trying to avoid the conversation you so desperately wanted to have about his past, knew that if he tried seducing you, you’d forget all about it and either end up in bed with him or run off scared. Either way it was working. The smirk was displayed proudly across his lips, his breath smelled like a mixture of an expensive fruit based alcoholic beverage and rosemary. You couldn’t tell how your brain functioned at that moment, as Lestat rose closer to your face and stared at your lips, wetting his own with his flushed tongue. He teased you, leaned down as if to kiss you but pulled away the very centimeter his lips were to touch yours and moaned lowly, almost like a ghost of a whisper. He pressed his thumb on your neck and held you tight, then bent down again.

He drew closer, and for a moment, it almost seemed as if you had pulled away. You staring at him with your boring common eyes, nothing compared to his, and then his lips enclosed on yours; soft yet immersive, gentle yet powerful all the same. All there was was the two of you, or one of you, rather, and all he could feel was you.

“Tu ferais mieux de me tuer,” you whinged as his teeth tugged softly at your lower lip in his motion to pull away. His breath got caught as he cocked his head to the side, eyes still lustful and hot. “Kill me, Lestat, since you can’t have me the way you want me to. Kill me like you promised once.”

“I didn’t—didn’t promise anything like that,” he stuttered while kissing your clothed cleavage.

“But I ask for death. Otherwise we shall be this way always, imprisoned in the hope of ‘what if’.”

Lestat stared at you, smiling, becoming a hazy dreamlike vision, then hyperclear. “Ah, but the price is high,” he laughed, sinking back into the scent of your body passionately, wanting to become one with it. You were serious, in a way, and that he knew, but even the slightest thought of staring at your gray corpse would kill him internally for all eternity. He couldn’t possibly…

“We could be both covered in blood,” you suggested again in a strangled moan. You felt his teeth against your skin, he smiled at the dumb images you had to offer in order to wrap him around the strong spell of undeniable temptation.

“You could be mine forever,” he insisted.

“You’re losing me already, Lestat,” you whispered, but he was too caught up in undressing you to hear. Just a few more months, you promised to yourself as you gave in the pleasure of the night.

───

Lipstick, you found, was how falling in love felt.

Starts off in a smooth surface, full of vibrance and colour, but eventually it comes to an end, either that is natural and non-bumpy, simply finishing because there’s nothing more to it except a few smudges—remainings—on the lid that you can’t get rid of, or it breaks in half, violently, with roughness, tears, anger. Just like when you apply lipstick and the bar becomes too soft to stay on.

Lestat had been your lipstick kind of love.

Except you never knew whether you actually truly loved him or if it was the illusion of him that had you so wanderlust and captivated to him. Months had passed, you’d stayed by his side through all the fights, all the murders that followed in his need to feed, the broken glasses and frames. He always ended up showing a bit more to his fragility after every rage, the stronger, the more. He’d grown to be an open book to you, attached, unable to let go, afraid. Vampires could love. And each human sense was triple as intense for a vampire, so when Lestat fell in love, he devoted himself to it completely, loved hard and immensely, never held back or restrained his emotions. Of course, he never said it out loud.

It had been a while since he’d had someone, a person, a real person to hold on to, to caress their hair at night, to whisper sweet nothings to, to just feel like he can be free with and love deliberately.

Nights were so deep and slow, the stars faded away every time his heart beat faster for you. A vampire could only cry once, he remembered he’d once been told (by whom was unimportant).

You were done, you decided. Had suffocated enough, had cut yourself from the world for him and that was the end of it. You had grown rather fond of him, enjoyed having him around, loved kissing him and talking to him, even fighting with him had become familiar, almost in the dream of being a family with him. You saw him sitting over the piano, contemplating. He raised his eyes at you once found around your presence and smiled. You motioned him not to get up and instead dragged your feet exhaustively towards his side, bringing a hand over his cheek, cupping it softly one last time as he obliviously leaned against it.

“You look handsome tonight, Lestat,” you said.

Indeed, he was impeccably dressed, just like always, in such royal clothes, each layer holding a different peel of his personality. Every feature of his face was smooth and calm, bright and pale at the same time, but the surface felt like a fresh painting; exquisite and vulnerable to any touch. It was probably the only time you’d ever seen him gift you with such a genuine, heartwarming smile.

“I’ve been wanting… dreaming of telling you something. For a long time now, I fear,” he began the moment you removed your palm from his face and instead placed it over his hands in his lap. His fingers found yours immediately and interlocked quickly, excitedly. It broke your heart.

“I’m leaving,” you announced harshly and suddenly his thumbs froze against the top of your hands, which he dropped. He felt lightning crackle through his veins and time slowed down. Your stomach had lost no time in twisting into knots, but you put on a façade that said otherwise, showed you off as strong and determined, cold, hollow to any emotion.

He stilled and looked at you with his jaw agape, mouth quivering. You weren’t just saying it, you meant it. You were doing it—he was losing you. Lestat felt his heart clench around nothing at all.

“Have I done something? I’ll give it to you, whatever it is that you need, I promise.”

His hands were now catching yours again, this time in utter desperation, a form to plead and beg. Your chest heaved as you noticed the corners of his eyes well up, retina glossy and wet, as though… no, he couldn’t—wouldn’t—waste his only chance to let the tears go down, because he was sure that whatever he did, he’d fix, there was a way, he knew it, he was sure of it. He’d offered you so many things, for God’s sake! A house, food, clothes, safety, his trust and love, and you were throwing it all away, like you hadn’t stolen his soul and merged it with yours to become one, like you hadn’t reminded him what it felt to be alive again, after centuries of suffering eternity. Because you had been right when you said to him that eternity kills; it slaughters the purity of the heart, fights against hope. It forces you to be alone as you watch everyone you love perish. And Lestat had been there, still was, would always be.

“I told you, Lestat. I’m not your slave. And I can’t do this anymore, I can’t stay here… it’s killing me. And don’t you—don’t you—dare say anything foolish about how you feel about me,” you threatened through trembling lips, fighting back tears the same way he was, except you didn’t know how long you could put up with the pain.

“You all leave me!” he yelled as he got up from his seat, covering his face with his hands as he moved in circles. “You leave me when I need you the most, you want me dead! All of you!” In his rage, Lestat raised his fist and shattered the marble vase that sat on the coffee table next to the instrument, pieces falling everywhere all over the floor, sounding exactly like the way his heart was breaking. And there it was; the first tear.

It fell from his face in a rush, violently hitting the cold ground, burning his cheek on its way down. His only cry, his only pain, all out in the open as he saw his world come crashing down. And what broke him the most was the look on your face, the urge you felt to remain nonchalant, though. Like your heart wasn’t ripping in half either, like you wouldn’t desire him, love him, give him a chance. Like you hadn’t let him kiss you all those nights as a silent way to confess his love for you, no.

“I’m not yours, I never was,” you struggled out.

“I’m yours. Don’t you see it? I would do anything for us, just let there be an ‘us’ for once, I beg you.”

“You just don’t want to be alone,” you breathed as his chest sunk with each breath. “You don’t love me, Lestat, you just love having someone to keep you out of the misery in your endless life.”

“You can’t… you can’t leave me… you can’t possibly believe all that,” he cried as he grasped your hands, but you pulled away, took a step further away from him with each try he made to get closer, to hold you for one last time, because if he ever had you around his embrace at that moment, you’d never be able to let go. You’d leave and Lestat would look for you in the face of everyone he’d kill to feed from with pure hearted and pleasure at the same time, such sickness that drew you away from him. He shook his head in denial, refused to let himself reason as you faded into a memory, or even a long lasting dream he never wanted to wake up from.

“I must…”

“I can’t bear it! Come back to me… when did I even lose you? When did you start to slip from me? I did… I did everything… I confined in you.”

“You needn’t say such things, Lestat…”

“You’ll stay.”

“No.” The answer was final, he knew it. Lestat De Lioncourt, knelt before your very eyes, broken down to the core, unable to get a hold of himself as his fingers weakened and he watched them slowly let go of yours, now holding nothing. He couldn’t hold you, just like he couldn’t hold anyone else in his life, not even himself.

The sun and moon yearned for each other, but time kept them apart. Eclipses would the only brief moments of bliss, when both of you could pretend that death hadn’t rooted into your souls, where Lestat spent the rest of eternity loving you.

FIN.

for my girl @honeymvnt !! this is your insanely late birthday gift, i hope it lives up to your expectations from all the nights we talked about it. love you 🫵🏼🎀

#lestat de lioncourt #iwtv lestat #interview with the vampire #tom cruise #lestat 1994 #lestat de lioncourt x reader #tom cruise x reader #interview with the vampire 1994 #tom cruise imagine #the vampire lestat #vampire #angst #not a good ending #tom cruise oneshot #i hate this #angsty #lestat de lioncourt oneshot

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s-u-g-a-r-rush1997 · 20 days

Note

If requests are still open I'd love to see some Sergeant Calhoun and/or Hero's Cuties! That character/ship needs more love

I love Hero's Cuties! It's one of my favorite WIR ships. Calhoun also happens to be my second favorite character overall, just behind King Candy. I was partially inspired by that one bit in the credits where Sergeant Calhoun and Felix are firing guns together. I feel like she'd absolutely teach him how to shoot.

It is a bit shorter than I would have liked, though. I'll have to do more content with Hero's Cuties, or just Calhoun even, at a later date.

Oh, and this takes place between the ending of WIR and their wedding.

Hero's Cuties at the Shooting Range

Pairing: Felix x Sergeant Tamora Calhoun

Rating: Safe for work

Warnings: none

“Focus, soldier,” Sergeant Calhoun barked, “eyes on the target, not the horizon.”

“Yes ma’am!” Felix gripped the pistol in his hands tighter than a kingsnake’s squeeze, knuckles white the pressure. His palms felt so sweaty he was worried the gun would just slip out of his hands.

“Wide stance, Fix-it!” Calhoun scolded. “Square your shoulders, remember? And for Pete’s sake, loosen your grip. It’s a gun, not a stress ball.”

“Understood, ma’am!” His hands were shaking, his heart racing a mile a minute. He could hear it loud beneath his earplugs. The target was just ten feet out. The shooting range was empty – Calhoun had made sure of it, worried that her fiancé would get too distracted or overwhelmed. Even without the constant noise and crowd, Felix found himself nervous all the same. He had never fired a gun before; hadn’t even ever held one before today.

Calhoun placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Felix.”

There was a loud crack and a hole appeared on the target in front of him, right at the very edge where he’d just barely grazed it. Not even close to the image of a cybug in the very center, certainly, but he’d actually hit the target this time.

He took his finger off the trigger, lowering the pistol, and turned to Calhoun with a warm smile on his face. She didn’t smile back. She wasn’t the most open of people, but he hadn’t seen her so closed off since he’d first met her nearly a year back. Her hand’s were balled up at her sides, her shoulders were tense; every muscle in her body was tense, in fact. Like a coiled spring wound far too tightly.

“Tammy?” Felix set the gun aside, taking care to make absolutely certain the safety was on, before facing Tamora fully. “Is something wrong?”

She hissed a breath out through gritted teeth, leaning back against the counter. Tamora gripped the edge, fingers curled beneath the underside so tightly the metal strained. Felix hopped onto the counter to sit beside her. His hand rested besides hers, not touching, just sitting there as an invitation.

She took the invitation, squeezing his hand hard enough to make his bones protest, before relaxing her grip just a bit. “I’m worried, Felix. I should have started training you sooner. The wedding is only a few months away. If something happens to you, I–” she inhaled sharply, lacing her fingers with his.

Felix gazed at her softly, placing a warm hand against her cheek. His brow furrowed suddenly, his lips pursed in a firm smile. “By my honor, ma’am, I promise you I will make sure that nothing will ruin our wedding. Not cybugs, not-not anything!”

Tamora released his hand, reaching up to grab the front of his shirt. She pressed a kiss to his lips, hard and firm – and no less breathtaking than their first or third or fourth. She pulled back with a smirk.

With a slap to his back, she barked, “then you’ve got work to do, soldier! Hop to it!”

“Yes, ma’am!”

#wreck it ralph #fix it felix jr #sergeant calhoun #felix x calhoun #hero's cuties #sfw #fluff #they are so good for each other

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butterflybuckethat · 2 months

Text

Crybaby

Hello! Found this sitting in my drafts so I thought I’d post it. I’m trying to return so please be patient with me and I appreciate all of your kind words 💕 My plan is to start fresh and expand from Bridgerton (currently in a bit of a Carmen Berzatto shaped hole — stay tuned!)

Notes: Prince Friedrich x Bridgerton!Reader

Request: I would like to request prince friederich x Bridgerton reader, cause I love him so much. Preferably something really cute and fluffy or he finds reader crying and comforts her either way I’ll be happy thank you

🦋 Masterlist 🦋

You were being ridiculous, you knew you were and yet you couldn’t keep the tears from flowing. You cried often, over a wide range of somethings--anywhere from a spilt milk to death. Your siblings teased you often, mostly after you were finished weeping. Mostly.

It was Daphne’s birthday, and you being the sibling closest to her--in age and affection--decided that you would plan her an extravagant birthday party; a surprise extravagant birthday party.

It had taken you an entire month to bring it all together and, as far as you could tell, Daphne suspected nothing. You had it all set up with crystal butterflies and floral accents and lemonade infused with exotic fruits. It was shaping up to be an absolute crush with the entirety of ton buzzing in anticipation of the birthday girl’s arrival. You even managed the attendance of Prince Friedrich of Prussia.

“Where is Daph?” Colin sidled up to you, an eclair already stuffed in his mouth.

“You mean she’s not in the carriage?”

“How am I do know if she’s in the carriage or not?”

“Colin,” you huffed, “you were to ensure that she got into the carriage we scheduled for her.”

“Oh.”

Your vision went blurry as tears began to well, “Colin, how could you?” Despite the frequency, you were still embarrassed by the rasp of your voice. Colin apologized profusely, doing everything but getting on his knees. He could never handle your tears, none of your brothers could; only Benedict, whose response was a roll of his eyes and a half-hearted hug.

“I will find her, Y/N. I’m sure she is on her way.” People were staring now and you were praying no one could see your tears. You brought your hands to your cheeks, feigning checking your rouge but really soaking the tears in your gloves. “I will fix this,” Colin said, placing his hands on your shoulders.

You felt the tears welling up again as you watched Colin make a beeline to the butler and could feel Cressida Cowper’s judgmental eyes narrowing on you. You swiped a glass of lemonade off the table and moved into the smaller of the two drawing rooms. It was closed off to the public allowing you to plop down on the divan, take some deep breaths, and press the cool glass to your swollen eyes.

“Lady Bridgerton?” The room was dark but you couldn’t mistake the accent, it was Prince Friedrich.

“Your highness!” you stood so fast some lemonade spilled onto the carpet.

“Please,” he gestured for you to sit but remained mostly in the doorway with the door wide open, for propriety’s sake. “I only wanted to check if you were alright.”

“I did not mean to take you from the party,” you demurred. He dismissed that thought with nothing more than a gesture. “I’m certain Daphne will arrive shortly.”

“I’m more concerned about you.” He stepped into the room, close to the arm of the sofa. You breath caught in your throat. This...was strange.

You had spoken to the Prince before, of course. Nothing serious but he had his sights on Daphne and, subsequently, you were frequently in close proximity. “I did not mean to cause a scene,” you were a little flustered at this point and were just searching for words to fill the space.

“I don’t think any of the guests noticed...”

“My tears?”

“Your tears,” he nodded. Prince Friedrich had not moved but you could have sworn he got closer. “I believe this is the third time I have seen them.”

You started to groan before you forced it to die on your tongue--it was terribly unladylike, especially in front of a prince. “I’m embarrassed.”

“Please, don’t be.” His hand ghosted over your wrist and your blood rushed.

“I can’t help it. I cry so often my mother used to call me Blue.” You pressed the glass back against your face in an attempt to quell your blush, but Friedrich laughed. It was kind of a deep chuckle; not much but it made you smile.

“I rather like that, Blue,” he mused.

“Daphne is here!” someone cried from the ballroom and you rushed over, helping people hide behind tables and walls before hiding yourself. Most of the candles were blown out, dimming the room completely. You, yourself, hid behind a large centerpiece with Friedrich beside you. You were much too enthralled with all your planning coming to fruition to appropriately react to the Prince of Prussia being mere inches from you.

“We aren’t supposed to enter the ballroom, Colin!” Daphne chastised, “it’s being painted!” You smiled a little at her belief in your ruse. You could feel Friedrich’s eyes on you, just a glance, but all your hair stood on end.

“You’re scared of paint, Daphne?” Colin teased. She would be mortified when she found out he said this in front of so many people.

“Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous-”

“Surprise!” you jumped out, along with the rest of the guests, as the servants lit the rest of the candles.

“Well done,” the prince whispered, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “Now go accept your praise. No more tears tonight.”

#prince friedrich fanfiction #bridgerton #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton fanfiction #prince friedrich imagine #prince friedrich #prince friedrich x reader #prince friedrich x you #requested #crybaby

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lostquinn · 1 year

Text

Crushing

Connor (dbh) x gn!reader

Fluff

Connor tells Hank about his feelings for you <3

I hope you lil simps are hungry

Word count - 516

Hank and Connor returned silently from the police station, enjoying each others company without words needed. They both entered Hanks house, which they now shared since Connors deviancy.

Connor stood in the living room, greeting Sumo while Hank moved to the kitchen looking for something to eat.

"Hank? May I talk with you about something?"

"What is it Connor?"

Connor paused, his hand resting between Sumos ears as he thought of what to say next. A light blue blush threatened to tint his face. Hank stared, almost in disbelief. It was if Connor was malfunctioning.

"Lately I've been having these feelings..."

"Oh for god's sake Connor, don't make me give you the talk." Hank grumbled.

"No, no although these feeling are about a person." A small smile graced his lips. "There's someone very special to me, just seeing them makes me feel like I'm full of butterflies"

Hank rolled his eyes and began st speak before Connor cut him off.

"When our hands touch it feels like my systems are shutting down, all I can do is focus on them with every fibre of my being and all I want to do is be close to them but I can't,"

"Oh heck,"

"I love the way their cheeks lift when they smile and the glisten as they talk about something they close to their heart and my voice gets stuck in my throat when they come into work with their hair a mess-"

Hank interrupted Connor this time.

"You're in love," Hank grumbled. "Love can hurt sometimes but that doesn't mean you shouldn't go for it, ask em on a date,"

Connors eyes widened as he processed Hanks words. He couldn't ask them on a date, he could barely think when they were around.

"No. I can't ask them."

"Why not? Scared [name] doesn't want to date you?" Hank said, testing Connor.

"Yes!" Connor paused "wait-"

Hank laughed as he took a few steps towards Connor, pulling his phone out and thrusting it towards Connor. Your contact was open on Hanks phone and Connor looked down at the picture of you, a his blush becoming apparent and deepening as he thought of all the things he could do by your side.

The phone rang for a moment before your voice rang out through the speaker.

"Hello?" You voice was clear.

Connor knew he could hear that voice for the rest of his life.

"Hello, [name] i-"

"Oh my god hi Connor!" You interrupted. "How can I help?"

"I was wondering," He cleared his throat "if you would like to go on a date with me?" He nearly stuttered, tripping over his words as he thought of you.

There was silence for a moment.

"Of course,"

"Thank you," Connor hung up the phone, a grin on his face.

He could feel his excitement and joy in his chest, it was almost overwhelming as he threw his arms around Hank.

"They said yes,"

He was still grinning and blushing as he went to bed that night. Hank messaged you and apologized for Connor hanging up later that night.

#detroid become human #detroit rk800 #rk800 #dbh connor x reader #detroit become human #connor dbh fluff #writers on tumblr #writing #hank anderson

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elvestoneanzelote1 · 1 year

Text

A:n- it is yandere chuuya x fem! Reader! From the poll winner.

Sorry it took time hope you enjoy?

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐬𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐝𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐬𝐢𝗼𝐧, 𝐊𝐢𝐝𝐧𝐚𝐩𝐩𝐢𝐧𝐠.

"Smile for me"

As everything seems to stop for a moment as you chuckle.

"Oh? Do you love my smile that much? Chuuya!" You said as he nod slightly embarrassed as the other members of Sheep were busy with something or another as Yuan quickly cling onto Chuuya disturbing the moment.

"Y/n-chan can you help us with this?" Said Akira as you nod and teleported the things where they wanted it to go.

Your ability was very useful as you can teleport anything and two people.

"Ma~ you are so reliable!" Said Akira as he sweatdropped and apologise for disturbing you which you denied while chuckling happily. You often wore a bright smile as talking to them.

You were 16 as Chuuya was 15.

You were more likely the member that helps around and doesn't fight most likely escaper eventually.

The drawback is.. You.. Cannot teleport yourself too far like you teleport to them.

Teleportating yourself can't be far.. More like 2meter to 5meter and if long range attack it.. Won't be good for you so.. You don't fight eventually.

Chuuya comes to you whenever he got hurt or something as you bring First aid with you and tend his wound.

You often wore a smile and thank him for the hardworks.. Unlike, the team.. The organization you don't.. Over exaggerate it like Chuuya been the reason for your all survival or sort.. True he is strong and protect you all but... One day you knew he may leave as strong people often doesn't stay long with the weaks.

And it's better that way.. of not been attached or sort.

You kept the equal distance to him like.. all the other.

Maybe, that's the reason why he prefer your company over all.

You treated him more like common person.. then the others who think so highly of him.

They depend on him yet, you don't.

You don't try to get to his good side or sort instead you are good to everyone else.

You often smile and help around.

You don't fight, nor you try to side with others when he was known to be a traitor when he forced joined the port Mafia.

Instead, you didn't even say a bad word to him and wish him good luck on his further journeys.

Even Dazai was shock when you spoke to him, with such warm.

(Like a big mother of the team or sort)

Anyways, he thought he will never see you again.. Well he try to stay far from you.

But when he got the news that you left the sheep and was a normal civilian he became curious.

He was curious as how you were..

He just want to repay your kindness nothing more.

Bit by bits he slowly started to come around often in your house alarming you.

And you sometime sense him stalking you so the best was teleporting away.

It annoy him because he can't find you that quickly when you teleport away.

He notices you with people he doesn't know and perhaps doesn't want then close to you.

After all, you were to bubbly and kind to all.

"Your... Here.." You said as you eventually took notice of the certain ginger hair male as he sat on the couch.

"Yeah, Was I not allowed to?" He knows you will deny as you rarely get angry which was true, you let him stay and didn't have the heart to shooed him away

"Are you planing on staying till... Dinner?"

"Can I?"

"O-of course! It-its been a while" you said smiling as his eyes narrowed a bit by your nervousness.

He wonders why you are that nervous for.

As time went by he left thankfully for your sake.

Day by day his stays were slightly less making you wonder why? As his company wasn't that bad for you.

Oh, perhaps he have work to as he is still in mafia.

Days turn to weeks as Chuuya still stalk you nowadays you can't sense him.. More likely, you don't care about your surrounding.

Your mood was off, a deep frown always present on your lips, as you work in a shop and often get scolded for the other working In availability.

Chuuya stare and frown as he hiddenly listen to those scolding.

Your smile started to flatter more and more.

The owner of the shop more likely the general store(which was very much big shop Ina way) started to aim you more.

Taking your kind nature for granted.

Oh, how He wanted to Squeeze the life of the owner to end your missery.

Week after week, you quit your job as now you are wandering around trying to find another with another bright smile trying your best not to look.. Disappointed or sort.

Chuuya knows something was wrong your.. Smile was more and more.. Down as if your just reassuring yourself.

"Wasn't that women, from the sheep.. Your ex-friend?" Said The brunette who was eating in the car as Chuuya peek out to see and nod.

"Yeah that's her"

"Is she planing on dying? Maybe, I should go after her."

"What do you mean?" Muttered Chuuya as Dazai nod and point your obvious personality.

"Sooner or later.. She is going to give up."

"She won't"

"Her smile and everything is change.. Chuuya-chan! "

"....."

"We can help her you know"

"What do you mean?"

"I mean... She is strong willed and her teleporting is inconvenient.. But she can't teleport away if.. She doesn't know the place."

"And..."

"So to kidnapped her I have to keep on using my ability to stop her from teleporting while you try to make her faint."

"....is that the last option?"

"Well.. Are you ready to watch her dead funeral in future?"

"....." Chuuya slowly nod in agreement despite telling Dazai not to touch you or sort making Dazai pout saying why can't he.

Yet, agreed to do so.

After all.. Its for your sake.

For your sake to save..

When the lights around you came to light you frown staring at the two male.

"I will be off, Try talking to her" said Dazai who left leaving you and Chuuya.

You were frowning.. As your eyes squint in question.

"Why?"

"...It was the only valid option"

"What do you mean?"

"You were so upset and.. All you barely smile and.. I just want to reassure you I'm here for you"

"Okay.. I know you are there for me but.. Why kidnap me?"

"..."

"Chuuya?"

"Because I don't want to see you.. Die.."

".....what do you mean..?" You frown as he mention about your obviously been depressed.

As you try to reassure him.

"Then smile".

"Huh?"

"Smile for me"

"I can't"

"Why not? Didn't you say you will if I want to see you smile.. Then smile for me... Y/n.."

A:n- good day/night to you all!

#yandere bsd #yandere bsd x reader #bsd #bsd x reader #bungou stray dogs #bsd dazai #bsd chuuya #chuuya x reader #yandere chuuya #chuuya nakahara #chuuya x fem!reader #yandere chuuyax fem reader #yandere bsd chuuya #bungou stray dogs Chuuya #bsd x fem reader #yandere #yandere x female reader #yandere x reader

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are-you-still-writing-that · 1 year

Text

Yandere Alphabet: Hanemiya Kazutora

He is just my little guy, ya know? I just had to write something for him. Especially, cuz I got a little request of the rest of the trio. But I because I had him already ready I though I would present him to you first. I´ll hope you´ll live this delusional little guy just as much as I do.

Hanemiya Kazutora

Someone, who twists the reality he sees, to fit whatever might save his mental state, even though he keeps destroying it again and again. He is someone, who makes his smile and easy-going nature the most dangerous thing about him. He is someone, who will completely fall into whatever delusion would best fit the narrative, that excuses him from any fault. Good luck with that...

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

That boy is all about the physical contact. It is clear, that this is his main love language. He wants to pull you close when ever he sees you. He wants to hold you when ever you are in his reach. His grip always a bit too tight. It becomes clear, that he wants to be as close to you as possible, and when he murmurs, that he would love to burrow himself beneath your skin, right next to your hear, it doesn´t surprise you at all.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

He will be so cruel. It is all he knows. All he was thought by his parents. With knuckles split apart, laughing brightly, blood dripping on cement, he will jump people when they simply brush past you. He act fast, and downs the other even faster. He looks to you, blood splattered over his face, slowly dripping down his knuckles. It becomes clear to you. He is insane. His love violent. His smile bright.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

He is delusional. Painting himself a pretty picture, where you love him just as much as he does love you. He will lose sight of reality very quickly, and there is no way, that you will be able to break through them. So, he doesn´t have a reason to taunt and mock them. Why would he? He is a bit callous some times, a bit sharp around the edges. But he doesn´t even realise it, when he is mean to you. Most of the time, he rather sits next to you, to coo over you.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

He keeps you awfully close. Always in range of him simply trapping you and pulling you closer to him. He also takes control over your entire life. Isolating you and pushing you into surroundings, where he can know about your every step. He has some kind separation anxiety, always had, that was blown out off proportions, when he met you. He hates to have you out of his sight, and will work on keeping it on you for as long as he can.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

He kinda tends to talk about whatever comes to his mind. Just chattering, about everything and yet nothing at the same time. Though, he will also sometimes start to talk about things, that he guarded so close to his heart. Things, where he can only stutter, as he describes something, that he couldn´t believe for his own sake for a long time. He unravels sometimes his delusions for the one he loves, though he still can´t unravel his most recent one. The one that concerns you. So on a technically he bares his entire heart towards his darling, though he is so deeply delusional that it might not ever be what he feels. Though he wouldn´t know that, if that was the case.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He hates it so much. It becomes pure agony for him to see you fighting back against him. Against his love. He will cry, tears streaming down his face, as he experiences heartbreak over and over again. His emotions are suddenly in overdrive, with no chance of him making sense of them. He is screaming, his face puffy, and his voice breaking and warbling on every word. In the end, he will be a worse mess than you.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

This is not a game for him, and it would be better for you to understand this very quickly for your own good. He will physically harm you to stop you from going away, from leaving him. So, you better don´t even think about it. He will break your ankles as often as he needs to till you learned the lesson, that you can´t get away from him. And he will do, all of this without any hesitation at all.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

The worst experience you will run through with him, is the moment he kidnaps you. What makes it so bad, that you can´t see any difference between how he usually acts compares to now. It comes as a complete surprise, when he brings you to his home and starts to insist, that you are already home. Here. With him. This is also the day, where he will make you realise what will happen to you, if you try to escape from him. And all the while, he will act like he usually does.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

It´s some form of a messed up white-picket-fence dream, that he dreams about. He already has sunken so deeply into his delusions, that most of the time, he isn´t even aware, that he would still need to work to get his dream fulfilled. In his mind, he is already there with you. Has already achieved every thing he wanted, when it comes to building a relationship with you. He already lived in a future, that in reality he will never get.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

He does get jealous, and it will be a slow and almost lazy rage. Kazutora won´t turn his anger towards you, but you will surely witness it. He will destroy the other person. It will be frightening. He takes great care to ruin the other person. For once his planing is immaculate, as he concentrates on this single goal. He will grin at you. Teeth bloody. Knuckles cracked open. He will show you with glee what he did. Expecting your pride and admiration. Your cooing over him. Like you and him had the same goal.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

That boy will fuss over you at every opportunity, that he gets. He loves the high and woozy feeling, that he gets, whenever he takes care of you. And so he will sought to repeat it as often as he can. He goes really sweet on you. But it´s too much. He tends to ignore any kind of protest and instead will just keep doing whatever it was. It´s like he can´t quite hear you. Twisting your words around as they get spoken. Sinking deeper into his delusions.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

He comes into your life one day, and just decides to stay. At first, he was just always around. Later, he would just talk, not always with but rather, at you. You might find it strange, might even complain about it. In the end, you might even try to avoid him. Nothing works. He inserts himself quite neatly into your life and refuses to be cut out again. He always seems to find his way back to you, no matter what you do.

Mask: Are their true colours drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

It´s not that his true colours are drastically different. It´s more, that he sunk completely into his own delusions and can´t find his way back. He is a lot kinder to you, than anyone else. But it´s never a mask. He is just more inclined to act positively with you, giving you a second chance, where he might ruin other´s at the first mistake. He likes you. This is, what gives you enough room to make mistakes and come out alive at the other side. He gives you that room. And he doesn´t mind.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

He becomes very quickly very violent. At first he is calm, still talking to you with a gentle smile on his face. Then he strikes. He is cruel and thoughtless. He just attacks. It won´t matter how you try to hold him back. Don´t even try to plead with him. He is someone that will ignore it in the moment. Strangely, there is nothing but fear in his eyes, though one would never guess why. He is so violent, because he is afraid to end up alone again. He doesn´t know better. But that´s not an excuse, is it?

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

He wants all of their attention all of the time. A real green-eyed monster he is. Constantly pawing at you like an impatient cat. Don´t let him know that one, he would love being described like that. He wants you all to himself. In the end, he will isolate them, and try to control every single thing in their life. His delusions of this being something domestic will shine their brightest here. It´s obvious that he tries. And somehow he succeeds

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

At first he likes the chase. Following you where ever you go. Having to find you over and over again. Then he quickly grows tired of it. It starts to annoy him. Never finding his darling where he expects them to be. It grates on his nerves. Till one day, he simply decides, to never leave your side again. He takes joy in staying close to you, so why would he ever refuse himself this joy?

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

He is heartbroken. Desperate. He tries to find fault in everybody around him. No one and nothing is safe from him in these few weeks he lashes out. Afterwards he grows quiet. Pulls back from every one. One promise. He will see them again. Even if it has to be in death.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Oh no! What is there to feel guilty about even in the first place. He is not someone, who recognizes what he did as a kidnapping. That is not what happened here. Not at all. He just moved in with you. Or rather you moved in with him. Right? Why are you lying? This is all that happened! Stop lying already!

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, tec)?

He grew up in an abusive home, then in an emotional negligent one. He always had a problem with attachment. It only got worse over the years. Killing someone that young, surely broke something in him. That was the start of his delusions. Not that juvie, and with that being surrounded by other violent teens, helped in any manner. He never learned how to properly deal with his emotions. And he likely never will.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

While it does worry him, most of the time he will just deal with it. Sitting back and letting them do their thing. He knows, that he can be like this as well. Throwing tantrums, that is. And he is allowed doing it. So, why shouldn´t they? It´s not like it´s separating them. It´s the opposite! It´s something they have in common. So, he let´s them be. They will tire themself out soon enough, ans then he can swoop back in like nothing ever happened in the first place.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

He is completely delusional, when it comes to you. He has lost all grips on reality. Kazutora can´t differentiate between what is real and what isn´t any more. He is most of the time lost to his fantasies. As long, as his delusions won´t be disturbed, he will do his best to be a perfect and doting boyfriend to his partner. But as soon, as there is any hint of resistance, just the idea of things not being like he thought, he will turn to excessive violence, to gain control over the situation once again.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His fragile mental state. He is not always quite aware of what is happening around him, which causes several episodes where he can´t differentiate any more, between what is real and what isn´t. Those are the moments, where it would be the easiest to spin a story, that will cause him even greater confusion. Would make keeping you here so much harder for him. He can´t tell what is the truth any more. But why would his darling ever lie to him?

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

There is very little needed to motivate him, to turn on his darling. He will become excessively violent, when he notices you pulling away from him. Every disturbance to his carefully built delusions, that wrap reality for him, are met with a violent response. He will turn on the one he loves. Quickly. Brutal. Cruel. Just like he does on everything, that would take them away from them. Worse will be the broken apologies spewing from his lips, as his empty eyes fix you with a vacant stare.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

Kazutora love you so much, that sometimes it feels like his heart is being torn asunder. His whole world revolves around you, because he chose for it to be this way. He adores his darling so badly. But there is one thing. His love is not unconditional. It´s based on the life he imagines. It even varies with how much you reciprocate. He makes his love dependent on you. And so it is likely to change every once in a while.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

He trails after you like a lost puppy. Always sticking close to your side, and never leaving far. He truly just sticks to you. And at first, that will be all he is doing. Though, over time he will realize, that nothing is changing. You still regard him the same way, that you did in the beginning. It annoys him. He hates it so much! Why are you ignoring him? Why can´t you see, what he feels for you? What he wants from you! This is the moment he will snap. This where, he will decide to throw all caution to the wind, and loose himself in something, he might never recover from.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Kazutora won´t break his darling, at least he will think so. He will see, how you calm over time, and how he can grow more lenient with you, without you rebelling against him again any more. What he doesn´t see are the numerous cracks, that made their home in your mind and spirit. How you slowly stopped caring, and how your mind retreated to keep you safe from him. He won´t notice the cracks, will think that you are completely fine. You know better, but at this point you don´t care.

#yandere #yandere kazutora #yandere alphabet #xreader #tokyo revengers #tokrev #kazutora hanemiya #yandere headcanon #kazutora headcanons #kazutora x reader #yandere tokyo revengers #yandere tokrev

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owlwithanapple · 8 months

Text

Fate Chapter 01. — Lost Girl

Roronoa Zoro X OC X Trafalgar Law

Zoro appears first, Law appears later

I tried to write a heroine from a different world who meets the character of One Piece. The content will have two different world concepts, which are not completely based on the plot of the anime.

It’s a boring world, boring day, doing the same thing every time when open your eyes. The things you must do after getting up are brushing teeth, taking a shower, changing into school uniforms, and taking the subway to school after leaving home.

You have to squeeze into the subway every morning and live this life all day. Arrive at school and enter the classroom. The class is full of noise. The teacher's job is to give lectures as usual, and the students' life is to study or get sleepy.

When the school bell rang, packed your schoolbag and went home. There are many club activities but you just can’t get interested. There are more people on the subway after school, but don’t want to squeeze into the subway with them, so you go home late and go to convenience store on the street.

As usual ran to the convenience store near the school to buy some snacks. Chose my favorite snacks and paid. Find a bench in the park, sit down, unpack the snacks and start eating.

You don’t hate your current life, and also like what you do every day. You just a student, have nothing else to do except for parents to support you in studying. Your parents abroad will feel at ease knowing that your academic performance remains stable.

Part-time jobs are only available on Saturdays and Sundays. Your parents will give you living expenses every month, but sometimes prefer to spend your own money. But students still have to take care of their studies. If focus on work, grades will rise and fall any time.

After parents see the results, it will be troublesome to ask for explanations. Your parents are talented people, and both of them hold senior positions in an overseas company. For the sake of parents’ face and image, you must remain excellent.

The park is as usual with a group of children playing together, an old man walking his dog, some students playing football, and you eating snacks on the bench. Even don’t look at these things you experience every day, you will know them by heart.

Oops, after talking so much, forgot to introduce yourself. Your name is Yuki. 17 years old. Is a student. Don't think of hobbies at the moment, just a passerby, living a cyclical life every day.

You found the snacks had been eaten and empty. Before knew it, the time had come and almost time to go home. On the way to the subway station, the scenery of the city is quite beautiful.

Your life goes around in cycles every day, but the scenery can change every day. Nature is so magical and mysterious all at the same time.

After the traffic light turns green, you start walking on the road. What lights the traffic lights display will change accordingly for people and traffic. When the red light is on, it means stop, when the green light is on, it can move.

Even though there are traffic lights for everyone's safety, accidents will always happen suddenly. An out-of-control car is coming from the left, and in front of you is a little girl who fell on the road.

Everyone around you has fled, except you. The little girl who fell on the road and the out-of-control car are rushing towards you two. Today is the first time in your life that you have experienced such a terrifying situation.

Subconsciously, you lifted the little girl up and pushed her aside, while the out-of-control car rushed towards you. Your legs are trembling and can't move at all.

You closed your eyes unconsciously fell into darkness, but didn't feel any pain when you were hit. You only heard the sound of water, the chirping of birds and felt something shaking.

You open your eyes sit up see that you are on a small boat surrounded by the sea and a group of animals flying in the sky. The scene in front of you makes you tremble with fear. It is a sea and a bright sun.

You was clearly on the road just now, but in an instant was floating on the sea. You look around there is nothing nearby, just you, a boat, the sea and birds.

You pinched your cheeks hard asked yourself, "What's going on! Why suddenly at sea!" The pain felt on your cheek definitely real, you wanted to stand up to see what was going on but the boat started to rock.

It's better not to move. There had just been a car accident on the road, and now you was in trouble at sea. But you are still wearing school uniform, so you were transported here?

But where is this? You are in a boat and then drifting across the ocean, even don't know where you are or where you drifting to. The sun on the sea is so bright and hot, making you so thirsty.

Sitting on the boat doing nothing just drifting on the sea, calling for help but there was no one around. Guess this is the world after death. You are the only one wandering on this sea alone.

You sighed "Am I going to die here? Maybe it would be better to die. It's not uncommon to live such a boring life every day!" You lie on the boat and look at the blank sky in a daze.

Suddenly a big wave came up the boat shook violently. You quickly hold on to the boat and a huge black shadow envelop you. It is a big ship with a sun face sailing on the sea.

The big ship collided with your small boat and crashed, you falling into the sea. You screamed for help desperately hoping the people on the big ship would notice, but your voice seemed unable to reach them.

You are tired, hungry, no strength and finally sink into the sea. This is the scene under the sea, a ray of light and clear water. You have died once, now you have to die one more time. Even death is a cycle.

You close your eyes stop thinking prepare to die peacefully. When you have given up all ideas, suddenly someone jumped into the sea grabbed your arm swam to the surface.

"Hey! Come and help get her up!" a rough voice shouted.

His companion picked you up and took you to the ship "Call Chopper!" another man said.

"Don't crowd here, get out of the way!" A cute voice used his little hands to unbutton you clothes leaned against your chest to hear your heartbeat. He put his hands on your chest and pressed it quickly.

"Don't die! Give me a reaction when you hear my voice!" He shouted to you while giving first aid in a panic. After a golden period of rescue, you finally opened your eyes slightly and started to react a little.

You just accidentally fell into the sea and the sea water choked your throat so uncomfortable you quickly coughed it out. When open your eyes again see a few people surrounding you "Are you okay, miss?" A man with curly eyebrows and a suit says to you with a smile.

There was a green-haired man with three swords hanging from his waist who was wet and drying himself with a towel. He was the one who jumped into the sea to save you. You slowly sat up and stared at the tanuki that saved you?

"Tanuki," you accidentally said.

He jumped around angrily and yelled "I'm not Tanuki! I'm a reindeer!".

After calming down, he pointed himself and said, "My name is Chopper, you?".

After listening to what he said, you inadvertently found that your school uniform was soaked by water, which penetrated your underwear and still half-dressed. You wrapped your arms around yourself to cover it.

You had no idea what was going on yet , woke up and was being looked at by others. Suddenly someone wrapped a towel around. It was the man in a suit. He had a nosebleed. "My name is Sanji. I'm sorry. Chopper was in first aid just now, so..." he comforted you.

You were already trembling in panic, not knowing what was wrong. You died in a car accident and almost drowned in the sea, but after being rescued, you were frightened and overwhelmed by the people in front of you.

But they all kept a distance and didn't force you to do anything. You clenched the towel and covered your face, not knowing what to do and hesitating about how to speak.

"What should we do? She didn't say anything." A woman with long orange hair asked Sanji and Chopper.

The green-haired man came over and said, "Let her calm down first."

A dark-haired woman approached you and gently poked on the back smiled and said, "I hope you're okay."

Seeing the strange and cute appearance of the reindeer named Chopper, you unknowingly let go of your guard. After all, they saved your life but you just kept your mouth shut before thanking them.

They turned their backs to seemed to be discussing something. Out of curiosity, you prepared to eavesdrop on what they had to say but it seemed like were done talking. You hesitated for a moment and just said your name should be fine.

"Yuki."

After everyone heard you speak, immediately turned their heads watched intently. In the awkward situation, you quickly covered your face with a towel. Being in a strange place and with strange people makes you feel uncomfortable and lonely.

The orange-haired woman put her hand on her chest and said, "Hello, Yuki. My name is Nami. The one who saved you just now was Zoro." She pointed at the green-haired man.

"Yuki-chwan! I'm so glad you're okay!" Sanji said with concern through a nosebleed.

"Umm, Sanji, your nosebleed..." You pointed at his face.

Zoro sighed helplessly pulled Sanji away from you "This guy is like this when he sees girls, don't worry about it.".

Sanji was unhappy with Zoro's tone and started to fight.

You survived, who is the person who saved me? A talking reindeer? A cosplayer with three swords hanging from his waist? A pervert in a suit? What kind of world have you arrived in and why are there so many weird things?

"Yohohoho! It's so lively." You turned around and saw a talking skull with an afro hair, you were shocked and dumbfounded.

"Hello, miss." The skull greeted you, but you were already stunned by him.

You are careless, this one is weirder than those people. Nami kicked the skull away and lightly slapped your face, but already fainted and unconscious. Chopper quickly arranged you go to the infirmary for examination.

"Is Yuki-chwan going to be okay..." Sanji said worriedly.

Zoro said seriously, "She's wearing weird clothes."

Sanji kicked Zoro "Marimo! You are not allowed to look at Yuki-chwan with that despicable look!".

"You are the one who is mean!". Zoro fights with Sanji.

Don't know how much time passed before you woke up from a coma. You lay on the soft bed looked at the lights on the ceiling. You thought it was an illusion but now it feels so real. There are many books in the room, the medicines are neatly placed in the cabinets, and a Tanuki wearing a pink hat?

"Tanuki!" you shouted sitting up and pointing at him.

He yelled angrily, "I'm not Tanuki! I'm a reindeer! Chopper!"

"It's not a dream..." You slapped your face so hard that it really hurt.

Chopper holds your hand to stop from hitting yourself. The pain means you are not dreaming. You pinched your face hard and slapped it several times. Chopper was so scared he ran out and shouted for help.

"Someone come here! Yuki is hurting herself!" Chopper yelled as he ran around in a hurry.

After hearing this, Nami and Sanji ran directly into the medical room saw you pinching face. Nami grabbed your hand to prevent from continuing, and Sanji quickly wrapped ice in a cloth and applied it to your face.

"What are you doing! Why are you hurting yourself?" Nami cursed at you angrily.

"Yuki-chwan, I won't allow you to do this to yourself!" Sanji told you worriedly.

"It's really not a dream..." After confirming that was not dreaming and you had really arrived in another world, tears flowed unconsciously from your eyes.

"Yuki-chwan! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have scolded you! What should I do?" Sanji nervously reassured you.

"What happened, Yuki?" Nami let you cry on her shoulder.

Zoro saw Chopper shouting around in a panic. He walked to the door of the medical room and saw you crying, Nami comforting you, and Sanji frantically thinking of ways to tease you.

"What happened to Yuki?" Chopper hid behind Zoro and watched secretly.

"How is she?" Zoro looked at Chopper and asked.

"She fine, it's just weird when she wake up." Chopper said worriedly.

"Hmm..." Zoro just remained silent and stood outside the door watching.

"Zoroooooooo! Chopperrrrrrrr!" came a loud voice.

You heard a voice coming from outside the door and saw Zoro standing in the doorway with Chopper hiding behind. There was a man in a straw hat, followed by a man with a long nose who excitedly ran up to Zoro while grabbing a fish.

"You are here! Zoro! Look at the fish I caught!" The man in the straw hat excitedly showed off the fish to Zoro.

"I know! Keep the fish away!" Zoro dodged the fish in Luffy hand.

"What are you looking at?" The man wearing a straw hat came into the infirmary.

"Hello..." You waved to him.

"Look! I caught the fish! Who are you?" After showing off the fish to you, he suddenly asked who you are.

"Stay back, Luffy!" Nami hit him on the head.

"It hurts..." The man in the straw hat sat on the ground and whispered.

"My name is Yuki..." You said your name.

After hearing your name, he excitedly stood in front of you said loudly, "My name is Luffy! Monkey D Luffy!"

"Why is Yuki on our ship?" the long-nosed man asked with a confused look on his face.

"Due to some minor accidents, Yuki-chwan will be on the boat temporarily." Sanji picked up the fish Luffy just caught.

"Hmmm...I see." Luffy stared at you with curious eyes.

When you were frowning, suddenly Luffy pulled his cheek to make a face. His cheeks were flexible and as soft as rubber. You couldn't help but laugh when saw his face making a weird face at you.

Nami saw your smile hugged you tightly and gently stroked you head to comfort you. Although you was transported to a very strange world, the people here were so warm and you felt a little warm.

"Yuki-chwannnn, smile more!" Sanji danced happily.

"Fnally laughed." Nami laughed.

"Don't always have a sad face!" Luffy smiled as brightly as the sun.

"Thank you, I feel much better." You responded to them with a smile.

"Yuki, do you want talk to us?" Nami asked you with concern.

Nami called everyone to the table to discuss current situation. You are a strange girl meets a ship with some strange cosplayers. Sanji made tea for everyone and put it on the table. You can smell the delicious tea.

There are currently 8 people: Luffy with retractable body, Zoro as a three-sword cosplayer, Nami with long orange hair and tattoos, Sanji with a nosebleed and a suit, Chopper as a reindeer, Brook as a skeleton, Usopp as a long-nosed and black-haired Robin.

Now a tall blue-haired man named Franky came forward, wearing only a underwear and a pair of robotic hands. What a weird group, maybe they are members of a band, you really feel confused about the current situation after reading it.

You clear your throat and briefly introduce everyone, "Ahem. My name is Yuki. I'm from Japan. I'm currently a high school student."

"Japan? What island are you from?" Luffy asked excitedly, standing on the table.

"What's the occupation of a high school student?" Ussop asked curiously.

"Japan is a country, and high school students are students." You explain to them seriously.

"Hmm. A country I've never heard of." Franky looked confused.

"Yohoho. That's why high school students wear short skirts like this. Can you let me see your pantsu?" Brook said with a smile at you.

"Sinful short skirt..." You looking at Sanji's whispered with nosebleed.

"What about you, are you all the cosplayers of some group?" Seeing their strange looks, couldn't help but ask.

"What is a Cosplayer?" Chopper asked doubtfully.

"Cosplayer is like everyone wear some character costumes." You simply explained to Chopper.

"We are not role-playing! We are a pirate group! I am the man who wants to become the Pirate King!" Luffy stood on the table and raised his hands in the air.

"Ha!? Pirates!? What era are we in now!" You stood up grabbed Luffy's collar and kept asking.

"The ○○ era..." Nami said.

"It's different from my time..." You let go of Luffy's collar calm down and muttered to yourself.

"Yuki, I'm curious, what era are you from?" Robin raised her hand and asked.

"I'm from the ○○○○ era..." Robin looked shocked after you answered.

"There is a possibility that Yuki is a person from a different world and era. I have read it in books, I always thought it was a dreamlike existence." Robin told everyone about your possibility.

"Hey! That means Yuki comes from a different world than us!" Sanji was shocked by Robin's conclusion.

"Wait! Could it be sent by the enemy?" Ussop suddenly mentioned.

"If it's true, just cut her off." Zoro stood up held his scabbard in hand.

Ussop mentioned this speculation, Zoro has become wary of you. It makes sense for them to speculate and be wary of you. Most people can ignore a girl wandering at sea, but they saved you.

Sanji stood up raised his feet to stop Zoro from drawing his sword. The aura of the two of them was too strong. You can feel the oppression and intense pressure from both of them while sitting nearby. It's such a terrifying situation.

"Stop it now!" Nami threw tea at Zoro and Sanji.

"I understand your caution. But if she is really innocent, wouldn't it be tantamount to bullying the weak?" Robin said calmly.

"Hahaha! Robin is right!" Franky said with a laugh.

"Yohohoho, if Yuki really wanted to harm us, she could have attacked Chopper in the medical room." Brook gave a simple metaphor.

"Yeah, it was just me and her at that time. It was a good opportunity to make a move." Chopper said seriously.

"Robin-chwan is right! Yuki-chwan is innocent! Marimo!" Sanji complained about Zoro.

"Let's have a fight! Curly cook!" Zoro and Sanji got into a fight.

It’s incredible they all can live together and get along even though all with different looks and personalities. It’s not like you’re dealing with the same people and the same things every day.

You clenched both hands and fell into deep thought. Maybe as Robin said, you and them are in different worlds and just happened to be transferred here or this is the world after death.

"Yuki! Look at me!" Luffy suddenly called.

"Erm?" You raised head.

When you heard Luffy calling, you looked up and saw him sitting on the table, making faces and laughing at you. His expression was so funny that you couldn't help but hold your belly and laugh.

"Oh, laughed again." Robin said with a chuckle.

"Yuki-chwan! Smile more! Your smile is a salvation!" Sanji looked at you with loving eyes.

"Luffy, how on earth did your face stretch and contract like this?" You asked him, wiping away the tears of laughter.

"Hehehe, I became like this after eating the Gomu Gomu no Mi." Luffy proudly showed off to you.

"Gomu Gomu no Mi?" You pulled Luffy's face hard to confirm this fact.

"Devil fruit. After eating it, you can gain certain superpowers. Doesn't it exist in your world?" Ussop asked you after explaining.

"I was only born in an ordinary world that is not as sci-fi as your world." You said about the worldview you lived in before.

"What do you usually do in your world?" Nami asked curiously, sitting next to me.

"It's all about studying and working. I don't have any other hobbies or interests." You told her vaguely.

"So boring..." Luffy said to me with a bored look on his face.

"I feel bored too." You lowered your head whispered.

It is indeed undeniable that your life is boring. Maybe you don’t make friends or participate in outdoor activities. Maybe you are introverted or just weak and incompetent.

You lowered your head clasped the corners of your skirt with your hands remaining silent. You feel so reluctant to let Luffy tell you the truth, but what he said is the truth. You have no reason to deny it.

At this time, there is a sudden gurgling sound in your stomach, which means are hungry. You shyly held your stomach and looked up find Sanji and Luffy smiling, Nami standing behind you putting her hands on your shoulders.

"Sanji, our guest is hungry." Nami said with a smile.

Sanji lit a cigarette, took a puff and exhaled, "No problem!"

Sanji ran away immediately when he heard your hungry voice and Nami's tone. For some reason, everyone was very happy to see Sanji leave, especially Luffy who jumped up and down with Chopper excitedly.

"Hehehe, Sanji is the chef of this ship." Robin said with a smile.

"So that's it." You said with a chuckle.

"That's right! Sanji's cooking skills are top-notch! He's not inferior to the chefs outside!" Ussop tells you excitedly.

"Ussop... I'm curious, do you often lie?" Seeing Ussop's nose reminded of some fairy tale plots.

Ussop quickly stepped back when he heard this, "Why did you say that!"

You smiled told him, "I read a fairy tale book that said that a puppet was born to lie and because of the fairy's spell, his nose would grow when he lied."

Ussop shouted in surprise and thought seriously, "NANIIIIIII, there is such a story! Could it be that I have a long nose because of a fairy casting a spell..."

"It's possible." Chopper came over to gossip.

"Yohohoho, what a funny story." Brook said with a smile.

"It's really strange that skeletons and reindeer can talk. Did you two also eat devil fruits?" You asked curiously.

"Yohohoho, that's right! Are there no skeletons in your world?" Brook asked curiously after laughing.

"Can the reindeer talk?" Chopper asked curiously.

"Skeletons usually only seen on Halloween, but people pretend to be and scare people for candy. I read about reindeer in books. Most of the records are four-legged animals that don't talk." You explain.

"Why do scare people and ask for candy?" Brook tilted his head and asked.

"It's a holiday custom. People dress up as various ghosts and knock on the door from house to house, asking for candy. If they don't give it, they will cause trouble." You said.

"Yohohoho! It's so fun! I want to participate if I have the chance! I have no body but a skeleton body!" Brook raised his hands excitedly to express his happiness.

"What about the cyborg?" Franky asked curiously.

"I've never seen with my own eyes, but I've seen it in science fiction movies." You smiled.

"What is a science fiction movie?" Franky asked, putting his hand on his chin in confusion.

"It's similar to what's shown in TV series." You might make a gesture like drawing a rectangle with your hands.

"What a strange world structure." Franky said with a smile.

Chopper, Brook and Franky excitedly ask you for stories about your world. We all live in different worlds, encounter different things, experience different lives, and live with all kinds of people.

Zoro thought you were suspicious, he stood aside and silently observed your every move. Luffy and Ussop ran to the kitchen to make trouble, while Robin and Nami were listening to what you said.

For the first time, you feel so amazing that you meet a stranger in a strange place. You think each other is weird. After all, the world you grew up in is different, but you feel so at ease with their company.

"Everyone! Food!" Luffy jumped up holding the food in both hands.

"Yahoo! I'm starving!" Ussop happily followed Luffy.

"Hey Luffy! Don't do this! You'll spill the food later!" Sanji held the food and followed Luffy.

"Okay, stop hanging around Yuki. Come over and eat." Nami put her hands on your shoulders and told Chopper, Brook and Franky.

"Bring me the wine." Zoro walked away.

"Let's eat together." Robin smiled and invited you to enjoy it together.

"My new friend Yuki-chwan is here today! I have shown my true skills!" Sanji clenched his fists and said enthusiastically.

You sit at the dining table look at the delicious food placed in front of me. The last time you just ate lunch boxes and snacks from the convenience store, the sumptuous food in front of you was so appetizing.

"Yuki-chwan, please taste it. You can give me a review." Sanji smiled, poured you water and handed you a knife and fork in a gentlemanly manner.

"Okay." You took it from him.

"I caught this fish!" Luffy confidently showed off to you.

It is a different kind of fish from your world, you cut a small piece and stare at it. After taking a deep breath, carefully put it into mouth and chew it slowly and tasting it carefully.

It's different from the fish you usually eat. Although it doesn't suit their food taste, you chew it, swallow it and take a sip of water. Luffy said it was fish but the texture seemed a bit strange when chewed but the taste was delicious.

"How does it taste Yuki-chwan?" Sanji asked with nervous hands shaking.

"Erm...the ecological species of fish are different from mine, so I can't get used to it." You told Sanji your thoughts.

"So it's delicious?" Sanji looks forward to your reply.

"It's delicious! Thank you! Sanji!" You responded to him with a happy smile.

"Yuki-chwannnnnnnn~The most important thing is that it suits your taste~" Sanji jumped up excitedly when he saw your smile spurting nosebleeds.

"Sanji...your nosebleed..." You tried to comfort Sanji but he seemed unable to control it.

"Don't worry, he's always like this." Robin put vegetables into your bowl.

"Thank you Robin." It feels like Robin is like a sister taking care of your diet.

"Yuki, how do you plan to live in the future?" Ussop asked while chewing food.

"I..." You were silent, having no idea after what to do.

"Nah! Do you want to join us for an adventure? It will be fun! Hahahaha!" Luffy said, holding a large piece of fried chicken in his hand and filling his mouth with food.

"Me?" You pointed at yourself.

"We can't let you live on the streets for the rest of your life." Nami said with a smile.

"Yohohoho! Fate has brought us together!" Brook said happily.

"I'm happy to have an extra nakama." Robin chuckled.

"Superrrrrrr~" Franky raised his hand and put the stars on his wrist together.

"Yuki~" Chopper took your hand.

"Then...thank you." You stood up bowed to express your gratitude.

"Yuki-chwan~Welcome~" Sanji was so happy and put a lot of food into your bowl.

You see that the bowl is full of food looks like Sanji is overly excited. But getting along with them is not a bad thing, everyone is very warm to welcome you as a stranger.

"Yuki-chwan, what else do you want to eat? I can get it for you~" Sanji served you considerately.

"Eat more for yourself." You cut a small piece of fish put it into Sanji's bowl.

"Yuki-chwannnnn so gentle~ This piece of fish is so delicious!" Sanji was moved to tears.

You see that Zoro is not at the table and ask Sanji "Zoro, doesn't he eat?"

Sanji frowned sighed helplessly, "Ignore that Marimo."

"Sanji and Zoro don't get along." Robin whispered in your ear.

"So." You finally understood.

Luffy's appetite for food, how big the portion is and how quickly he stuffs all the food into his mouth. You were almost full, but remembered that Zoro hadn't eaten yet, you put some food in the bowl and gave it to him later.

"Yuki-chwan, where are you taking the food?" Sanji asked curiously.

"Zoro hasn't eaten yet, I'll give him some." You stood up and left the table.

"Damn Marimo! Let a girl serve the food!" Sanji shouted angrily.

"You're so noisy Sanji!" Nami yelled at him.

You looked for Zoro with a bowl filled with food, and you saw him sitting and drinking while watching the sea. You slowly approached behind him feeling a strong sense of oppression coming from his back.

His vigilance never slackened from the beginning as he drew his sword pointed it at you. You were so frightened that you stopped quickly because his sword was pointed at you and your legs began to shake.

"What?" Zoro showed a fierce expression.

You were afraid that he would stab you with his sword, but you still swallowed your saliva and said, "...You didn't come to eat. I'll get you some food while Luffy hasn't finished eating, otherwise you'll starve."

He put the sword into scabbard and say "put it there." then continued to drink.

You put the food in his designated place and leave silently. Before leaving, you looked at his back thought for a while. Even if he made you feel scary and powerful, bu still had to say what you should say.

"Zoro...thank you for saving my life." Although he didn't look back , you still bowed to his back to express your gratitude.

"..." He just sat there silently.

"Don't just drink, remember to eat." You reminded him warmly again that the food was just there and left.

After you left, Zoro looked back at the food you put aside. He put down the wine, held the bowl, took a fork and started eating. He gulped down the food in the bowl, burped, put the bowl down and continued drinking.

You came back to the table and saw Robin waving to you "What's wrong?"

"I'll take you to your room." Robin stood up and walked to the room with you.

Robin is really beautiful. She has long black hair, is knowledgeable, and has a slim and tall figure.You couldn't help but keep staring at her, feeling very envious of her figure and you just a short girl.

"Why are you staring at me?" Robin glanced at you.

You panicked and covered your face with your hands, "I don't mean any harm, I just think you're beautiful."

"Hehehe, thank you." Robin chuckled.

You followed Robin to the room opened the door see Sanji and Chopper all well organized and waiting for you to come in. You stepped into the room and saw that although it was just a simple small room better than sleeping on the roadside.

"Thank you very much." You smiled.

Robin pointed to the clothes on the bed, "They are old clothes, if you don't mind."

"Why would I mind! I'm so grateful!" You bowed.

Robin leaned against the door. "Hehehe, is bowing also a custom in your world?"

You put your hand on the back of your head smiled, "It's actually a custom in the country where I live, to express gratitude. Everyone does this even if they pick up things for passers-by."

"I see. There are really rules." Robin chuckled.

"Yuki-chwan~ You don't need to do that here. We are more relaxed here." Sanji lit a cigarette and smiled.

Chopper jumped and raised his hands, "If you feel uncomfortable, you can come to me. I'm a doctor."

You squatted down and said, "Wow, that's awesome, Chopper."

Chopper is shy "Your compliments don't make me happy at all.~"

You looked at the shy Chopper "This is what happens when you are praised..."

Sanji held a cigarette and proudly said, "You can come to me anytime if you are in danger, hungry or need a hug."

"How considerate." You smiled shyly.

Sanji saw you blushing and nose bleeding, "You look so cute when you are shy!"

"Hehehe, let's leave first. See you later." Robin waved and left the room.

Sanji and Chopper followed Robin out of your room. You collapsed onto the soft bed and sighed. After what you have experienced now, you are sure that you are not dead yet, you are in another world.

The world of pirates...it's incredible. How on earth could you be suddenly transported to this world? Is this the so-called world without wonder or the world full of unknowns?

It’s really tiring to have to accept so many weird things all at once. You were about to die but did not die. Instead, you went to another world and almost died but was saved again. You feel exhausted, just closed your eyes and slowly fell asleep.

To Be Continued—

*If you have any ideas leave them in the comment section, and I will try to add in the story.*

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actuallyjustabiscuit · 5 months

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Preview for Ch. 2 of Jealous Jester

So uh, yeah. I…didn’t meet my deadline. And I feel really bad about it. Chapter is almost done, I promise. So as an apology I’ll give you a sneak peek.

It’s not a big deal!

Screaming this in her head did little to calm the doll down. Her time spent experiencing the usual Circus shenanigans allowed Ragatha to gradually develop an outward appearance that made her seem more put together than she felt. It was something she took a little bit of personal pride in, internalizing everything for the sake of putting everyone else around her at ease.

But for once, Ragatha’s reason for freaking out had nothing to do with the Circus. Instead, it was Pomni that was making her panic. Her girlfriend’s behavior towards the end of their adventure had already caught the doll off guard. Now it was threatening to knock her out completely.

Ragatha had been briefly berating Jax when she had heard Pomni walk silently up next to her. Before the doll even had the chance to welcome her into the discussion, however, the jester had reached up to undo her previously crossed arms with a gentle tug. Ragatha’s initial confusion quickly turned into shock when Pomni proceeded to grab hold of her entire forelimb and wordlessly slipped a hand into hers.

The ragdoll froze on the spot, staring at Pomni with her eye wide and her mouth agape. A fierce warmth covered her face as her mind suddenly went blank for a few good seconds. Pomni was staring back at her with shy uncertainty and a small blush of her own, but otherwise looked remarkably calm. The jester’s pinwheels were noticeably dilated and were subtly shifting around as if they were searching for something in the doll’s expression. For what, Ragatha could not say. She couldn’t say anything at the moment. Not when she could feel Pomni’s thumb making light little circles on her hand.

Although they had all just returned from an adventure that had her nonexistent heart racing with adrenaline, the agitation she had felt while trying to survive on the tracks was nothing compared to what she was experiencing now.

“Pfft. You good, Dollface?”

There it was. The reason she was so baffled with the situation in the first place. It wasn’t the fact that Pomni was being affectionate. She had been affectionate with Ragatha. Many times. Very much so. Behind closed doors.

But they weren’t behind a door. They were both standing around with the others in the middle of the Tent. All of their friends were now staring at the two women, expressions ranging from highly amused, confused, to indifferent. Ragatha thought it was one thing for Pomni to act so out of character in front of someone they were never going to see again, but for her to still be like this in front of everyone in the Circus was a cause for concern.

Is she upset about something? Why isn’t she saying anything? Does she even know what she’s doing?

Pomni’s eyes darted to the group in front of them, confirming that she was well aware of their presence, before continuing to cuddle into her side without an explanation. The jester’s grip tightened just a bit as she narrowed her eyes at the others, like she was daring them to say anything. If the doll did have a real heart, it would have been skipping so many beats she wouldn’t qualify as being alive.

Ragatha was pretty sure she was already dead anyway.

#harlequilt #jesterdoll #ragapom #buttonblossom #pomni x ragatha #ragatha x pomni #tadc fanfiction #this one has me on the ropes #Enjoy Ragatha being the canonical loser that she is #Not really but it’s still fun knowing I’ve been doing it right by writing her as a maladjusted mess #She’ll be fine I promise Pomni will take care of her

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anonymousewrites · 8 months

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A Study of the Heart and Brain (Book 3) Chapter One

Father Figure! Sherlock x Teen! Reader

Chapter One: Surprise Return

Summary: Sherlock returns to London and sees John once more.

In Serbia…

A man, long-haired and straggled, ran through the forest. A helicopter searched for him from above, and it shone its giant beam of light down onto the trees in search of the man. Infrared cameras caught his position, and gunshots rang out. The man was forced to stop and panted in exhaustion as the ache in his bones caught up to him at the same time as the men. Unable to go on any longer, he slumped to the ground.

The man’s body swayed from chains embedded in the ceiling. His wrists were twisted above his head at an uncomfortable angle. His shirt was gone, and his skin was bruised by repeated blows from his captors.

One of the men struck the captive again, and he gritted his teeth. The other man in the room remained at a desk with his feet up, simply watching the proceedings closely.

“You broke in here for a reason. Just tell us why and you can sleep. Remember sleep?” sneered the torturer, pulling his captive’s hair back. He drew his hand back to strike with his metal pipe again, but he paused as the prisoner spoke quietly. “What?” he said in confusion, leaning in. The man whispered again.

“Well? What did he say?” asked the other soldier.

“He said that I used to work in the navy where I had an unhappy love affair,” said the torturer in bewilderment. The man continued to whisper.

“What?” said the other soldier.

“…The electricity isn’t working in my bathroom, and my wife is sleeping with our next-door neighbor,” exclaimed the torturer, but the captive was still going.

“And?” asked the other.

“The coffee maker! And? And? If I go home now, I’ll catch them at it! I knew there was something going on!” shouted the torturer angrily, abandoning his charge to storm out of the room as his rage took over his rational thought.

The prisoner was left hanging from the chains.

The other soldier stood. “So, my friend. Now it’s just you and me.” He tutted. “You have no idea the trouble it took to find you.” He pulled the captive’s head up and whispered to him in English. “Now listen to me: there’s an underground terrorist network active in London and attack is imminent. Sorry, but the holiday is over, brother dear.” Mycroft let the man’s head fall back. “Back to Baker Street, Sherlock Holmes.”

In London, in Mycroft’s office…

Sherlock leaned back in the barber’s chair as his hair was cut and his scraggy beard was shaved. He held the paper open before him, but he wasn’t paying attention to it. It had taken a glance to get any information he needed, anyways.

“You have been busy, haven’t you?” remarked Mycroft. “Quite the busy little bee.”

“Moriarty’s network—took me two years to dismantle it,” said Sherlock. “You know I couldn’t leave anything still going.” Not when (Y/N) could be threatened by any remnant of Moriarty and his influence.

“And you’re confident you have?” said Mycroft.

“The Serbian side was the last piece of the puzzle,” said Sherlock. He glanced back at Mycroft. “And you know I wouldn’t leave this to chance. I made sure I took care of everything.”

“Yes, yes, for (Y/N)’s sake,” said Mycroft, but despite his disdain for sentimentality, they were part of the Holmes family, so he understood what Sherlock meant. “And by doing so, you got yourself in deep there with Baron Maupertuis. Quite a scheme.”

“Colossal. But worth it,” said Sherlock simply.

“Anyway, you’re safe now.” Mycroft folded his hands together. “A small ‘thank you’ wouldn’t go amiss.”

“What for?” said Sherlock casually.

“For wading in,” said Mycroft. He wouldn’t ask for thanks for looking out for (Y/N) over the last two years. That was family. But going into Serbia personally? Mycroft would hold that over Sherlock until he figured out this terrorist business (and a bit after). “In case you’d forgotten, fieldwork is not my natural milieu.”

The barber, having finished, left the room. Sherlock stood and faced Mycroft angrily.

“Wading in?” he said sharply. “You sat there and watched me being beaten to a pulp!”

“I got you out,” said Mycroft indignantly.

“No, I got me out,” said Sherlock. “Why didn’t you intervene sooner?”

“Well, I couldn’t risk giving myself away, could I? It would have ruined everything,” said Mycroft as if it was obvious.

Sherlock glowered. “You were enjoying it.”

“Nonsense,” said Mycroft.

“Definitely enjoying it,” muttered Sherlock.

“Listen, do you have any idea what it was like, Sherlock, going undercover and smuggling my way into their ranks like that?” Mycroft tsked. “The noise, the people…” He had a clear disgust for it all.

Sherlock just crossed his arms and decided to let that part slide since Mycroft wasn’t going to apologize (Sherlock would be shocked if his brother did). “I didn’t know you spoke Serbian.”

“I didn’t, but the language has a Slavic root with frequent Turkish and German loan words. Took me a couple hours,” said Mycroft.

“You’re slipping,” said Sherlock, happy to have something to poke Mycroft with.

“Middle age, brother mine. It comes to us all,” said Mycroft, turning around so Sherlock could change into fresh clothes. “Now, I need you to give this matter your full attention, Sherlock. Is that quite clear?”

Sherlock turned around and let Mycroft look at him. Pointedly, all he said was: “What do you think of this shirt?”

“Sherlock,” said Mycroft in exasperation, and Anthea walked in beside him.

“I will find your terrorist cell,” said Sherlock. “Just put me back in London.” Let me go back to (Y/N). “I need to get to know the place again, breathe it in, feel every quiver of its beating heart.”

“One of our men died getting this information,” said Anthea, pulling out a folder. “All the chatter, all the traffic, concurs there’s going to be a terror strike on London—a big one.”

“And what about John and (Y/N)?” said Sherlock, finally asking the question on his mind.

“I’ve kept an eye on them, of course,” said Mycroft, gesturing to Anthea. She procured two more folders and handed them to Sherlock.

Too nervous to open (Y/N)’s, Sherlock opted to look at John’s first. He found that John had gone greyer and grown a mustache. Sherlock disapproved. “Well, we’ll have to get rid of that.”

“We?” said Mycroft.

“He looks ancient. I can’t be seen wandering around with an old man,” said Sherlock, tossing John’s file to the side. He held (Y/N)’s and gazed at the name printed on it. (Y/N) (L/N). Not (Y/N) Moriarty. Good. Sherlock summoned his courage and flipped open the file.

He looked at a picture of (Y/N)’s face dated the previous week. They were older. They’d been fifteen when he’d left, and now he was looking at a seventeen-year-old. (Y/N) was almost an adult. But there was something wrong about the picture. Sherlock recognized it immediately—their expression.

It was the same as his when he relapsed and lost himself to drugs before he pulled himself out of addiction and properly took care of himself and his boredom. (Y/N) had an empty look in their eyes.

Sherlock’s gaze snapped up to Mycroft’s. “I thought you were going to take care of them.”

Mycroft didn’t respond and just looked at Anthea. She took her cue and left to leave the brothers to discuss family matters.

“(Y/N) did not take your…absence well,” said Mycroft.

“I saw them at the grave after my funeral,” said Sherlock. “I know.”

“They have not moved on at all,” said Mycroft. He sighed, and though his sighs were usually those of exasperation, this was one of worry and tiredness. “Sherlock, after your ‘death,’ they wouldn’t eat. They barely slept. It took Dr. Watson and I quite some time to get them to do so. And even then, they often forget.”

Sherlock’s heart clenched. (Y/N) wasn’t alright. They were suffering, and it was his fault. Even if he’d left to deal with Moriarty’s network—to protect them—it had still hurt them. “It’s been two years.”

“They’ve improved somewhat, but they relapse into dangerous bouts of depression frequently,” admitted Mycroft. He laced his fingers. “I even ensure they had cases—safe, of course—to work on, but it didn’t seem to help.” He looked at Sherlock. “I’m sorry, Sherlock.” He wouldn’t apologize for anything he did to Sherlock, but (Y/N) was younger family, and just as he was protective of Sherlock from behind the curtain, he was the same way with (Y/N). He was sorry he couldn’t help them. “The doctor and I did the best we could.”

“Then it’s good that I’m coming back,” said Sherlock, trying to keep his usual pragmatism, but he was worried now.

(Y/N)’s mental health had always been fragile—the curse of being a genius in a world of idiots. They had been wary of people in the orphanage, pushed aside by adults who wanted to ignore their mind looking through them. Then, of course, the cases they and Sherlock had ended up on were…traumatizing, to put it lightly. But (Y/N) had always had Sherlock. He had watched for any serious signs of danger and taken care of them. But he hadn’t been there this time. It had been his absence that caused them this pain.

“Have you done anything to prepare (Y/N) or John for your return?” said Mycroft.

He sincerely hoped that (Y/N) found some stability again now that Sherlock was coming back, but he also knew that Sherlock coming back after so long being dead could also cause problems (and Mycroft didn’t want (Y/N)’s mental health to be any worse than it was).

“Where’s John going to be tonight?” said Sherlock, ignoring Mycroft. His brother knew Sherlock had kept silent on his status being alive and not dead. It had been for John and (Y/N)’s safety.

Mycroft looked at Sherlock disapprovingly. He knew Sherlock was going to go to John first because he was scared to see (Y/N) unwell because it was partly his fault. But he also knew he couldn’t stop his brother form doing what he wanted (and it wasn’t as if he wouldn’t go to (Y/N). Sherlock cared too much to leave them like this for long now knowing how they were.)

“How would I know?” said Mycroft, deciding to be obtuse as ever.

“You always know,” said Sherlock, knowing Mycroft as well as his brother knew him.

“He has a dinner reservation in Marylebone Road. Nice little spot. They have a few bottles of the 2000 Saint-Emilion, though I prefer the 2001,” said Mycroft. “And there is also a sweets shop that sells lollipops there.”

“I know,” said Sherlock. He had bought (Y/N) their favorite lollipops from there many times.

Anthea reentered and held out Sherlock’s Belstaff coat. He took it and slid it on.

“Welcome back, Mr. Holmes,” she said.

“Thank you,” said Sherlock sarcastically, facing his brother. “Marylebone Road, was it? I trust you can spare a car for me?”

Mycroft tutted. “Anthea will escort you there. But then you’re on your own.”

His brother could face John and (Y/N)’s reactions on his own. John’s reaction was easy enough to guess—anger. But Mycroft knew Sherlock could take a punch. However, he wanted (Y/N) and Sherlock to be alright soon. Neither was quite right without the other. Mycroft wasn’t one for guessing or hoping, but he did wish for everything to return to being as it should be.

Sherlock followed Anthea to the car. And while he watched the streets go by to take him to John, all he could think of was (Y/N). His kid. Soon, everything would be as it should be. Him, John, and (Y/N)—family.

“If you’ll have me, Mary, could you see your way, um…” John cleared his throat nervously. Trying to propose to the woman he loved was scarier than anything he’d ever done. “If you could see your way to—”

“Sit, I think you’ll this vintage exceptionally to your liking,” said Sherlock, disguised with just a drawn-on mustache. He expertly interrupted John and Mary. “It has all of the qualities of the old with some of the color of the new.”

John didn’t even look at Sherlock the Waiter and gritted his teeth. “No, sorry, not now, please.”

“Like a gaze from a crowd of strangers, suddenly one is aware of staring into the face of an old friend,” said Sherlock, trying to prompt John to see him.

“No, look, seriously, could you just…” John looked up, and his face fell.

“Interesting thing, a tuxedo,” said Sherlock nonchalantly as if he wasn’t suddenly back from the dead. “Lends distinction to friends and anonymity to waiters.” John stood silently.

“John?” said Mary in confusion as John tried to take deeps breaths. “John, what is it?”

Sherlock cleared his throat and intelligently tried to defuse John. “Well, the short version is…not dead.” Or maybe not try to defuse anything. He coughed. “Bit mean springing it on you like that, I know. Could have given you a heart attack, probably still will. But in my defense, it was very funny.” John stared angrily. “Okay, not a great defense.”

Mary’s eyes widened. “Oh, no, you’re—”

“Oh, yeah,” said Sherlock.

“Oh, my god,” said Mary.

“Not quite,” said Sherlock.

“You died, you jumped off a roof,” said Mary.

“No,” said Sherlock.

“You’re dead,” said Mary.

“No, I’m quite sure, I checked,” said Sherlock. “Excuse me.” He dipped a napkin in their wine glasses and wiped away his mustache as John glowered. “Does yours rub off, too?”

“Oh my god, oh my god,” exclaimed Mary. “Do you have any idea what you’ve done?”

Sherlock cleared his throat. “Okay, John, I’m suddenly realizing I probably owe you some sort of an apology.” John slammed his hand down on the table.

Mary tried to soothe John. “Alright, John, just keep—”

“Two years,” snapped John. He took a deep breath, but he didn’t calm down. “Two years! Hm? I thought—Mm…I thought you were dead. Now, you let me grieve. You let (Y/N) grieve. How could you do that?” Sherlock winced at the mention of (Y/N). “How?!”

Sherlock coughed and tried to collect himself. “Wait, before you do anything that you might regret, one question, just let me ask one question.” He pointed to John’s mustache. “Are you really going to keep that?”

John took a deep breath and chose violence. He grabbed Sherlock’s collar and pushed him to the ground roughly. Onlookers gasped, and Mary shot up from her seat. John didn’t care and just continued to throttle Sherlock.

In a dingy little diner (they had gotten kicked out of the fancier restaurant for fighting), Sherlock attempted to explain himself to John without getting punched again. “I calculated—��

“You know, for a genius, you can be remarkably thick,” snapped John, just cutting him off.

“What?” said Sherlock.

“No one cares how you faked it, Sherlock. I want to know why. For God’s sake, why?!” snapped John.

“Because Moriarty had to be stopped. I had to protect (Y/N),” said Sherlock simply. “I needed to get rid of his network to protect them.”

John relaxed slightly. “Fine, fine. Did anyone know?”

“My brother, of course. And then Molly Hooper had to fake the documents for my death…and maybe a few people in my homeless network,” said Sherlock.

“So just your bother, Molly Hooper, and a hundred tramps,” snapped John, back to being angry since he suspected Mycroft would know, but others knew before him and (Y/N)?

“No, twenty-five at most,” said Sherlock, thinking he was fixing something.

John launched across the table and grabbed Sherlock’s throat.

In a shabby ice cream parlor, Mary crossed her arms and tapped her foot as John just glared at Sherlock as he dabbed a napkin on his broken lip. The night was just getting worse and worse.

“Seriously, it’s not a joke? You’re keeping that?” said Sherlock, glancing at John’s mustache.

John cleared his throat. “Yeah.”

“Sure?” said Sherlock, questioning John.

“Mary likes it,” said John.

“Mmm…no she doesn’t,” said Sherlock.

“She does,” said John.

“She doesn’t.”

John glanced at Mary, and she coughed.

“Oh, don’t,” she said.

“Oh, brilliant,” sighed John.

“Look, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didn’t know how to tell you,” said Mary.

“Right, no, no, this is charming. I’ve really missed this!” snapped John. He groaned. “I’m surprised it’s not you and (Y/N) back at this.” He glanced at Sherlock. “Actually, I’m surprised (Y/N) isn’t here at all.” He frowned. “Where are they?”

Sherlock was silent.

“Sherlock,” said John. “Where’s (Y/N)?”

“I haven’t seen them yet,” said Sherlock slowly.

“What!” shouted John.

“I haven’t told them yet,” said Sherlock guiltily.

John reared back and punched Sherlock.

Taglist:

@stilesstilinskiforlife-blog

@im-making-an-effort

@ilse235

@schrodingers-intelligence

@awsedrftgyhujikol

@lxserthxngzzz

@forever1313

@mentallyunstablemanlover

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mikoyamisheadcanonblog · 1 year

Text

Sanji x Fem Reader helping her cook a meal

🍳Sanji🍳

Word Count: 1108

“I need your help,” a soft voice rang in his ears catching Sanji’s attention. He glanced up to stare at the female figure standing in front of him holding a large cookbook with complicated recipes in it. She just smiled gently at him, “I want to surprise my crush with a romantic three-course meal,” she held up three fingers.

Sanji frowned at hearing the word crush escaping her lips. He stared at the beautiful woman with the even beautiful innocent smile unaware of how her words hurt him. He frowned at the thought of the stupid Marimo that had caught her attention earlier today as they shared a private conversation. Sanji had watched getting a little envious watching the two. He could only watch his own crush flirting with another man.

“You know he probably wouldn’t appreciate all the work you did preparing his meal,” he thought of the stupid swordsman who barely appreciated the delicacy of food and rather drown everything he ate with sake. “You should probably make something simple for him,” he added quickly before he could hurt the woman with cruel words. He was a gentleman first, hurting a lady’s feelings wasn’t in his nature.

His grey-blue eyes scanned the woman reading any signs to see her thoughts, but she just smiled at him unaffected.

“I worry I wouldn’t be able to impress him if I stuck too simple,” she answered him, “He would probably treat it like any other gift,” she answered glancing away. Sanji took the book from her hand and flipped through the recipes. They were complicated and would at least take a whole day to make and multiple hands and move quickly so the food wouldn’t burn or overcook.

“If the moron isn’t impressed with a gift you made from your heart he isn’t worth your time,” he said closing the book. He watched her face drop a little, “I think I know a recipe that should impress him and easy enough,” he added quickly, removing his cigarette from his lips.

She smiled at him, “I trust you,” she told him. He ignored the gut-wrenching feeling twisting in his stomach, the feeling of jealousy and anger knowing that the stupid swordsman wouldn’t appreciate her cooking. He wouldn’t appreciate her as a woman as a person.

Still, he would help her out in many ways he can just to see her smile.

The curry recipe was simple but took a lot of work more than she expected. Gathering the ingredients he helped her through the steps, he couldn’t stop the few snarky comments that would escape his lips about her crush.

He couldn’t imagine the stupid swordsman appreciating the work she put into making the meal or appreciating the taste of the curry. “He has no tastebuds you know,” Sanji said as he was moving the meat in the pan, “I am going to kill him if he just swallows the food,”

She just laughed a bit, “I am sure he will enjoy it after all he appreciates hard work,” she was unaffected by Sanji’s words each insult he had towards her crush was followed by words of flattery about her. He was always sweet carrying about her feelings and keeping her safe. He was the first to help whenever she needed help and was always there when she needed him. She just hoped he enjoyed the meal she cooked for him.

She was deep in thought as she peeled the potato’s mind worried about Sanji’s reaction when she did give him the food. Would he accept her love, or would he compare her to Nami or Robin? She frowned her heart aching at the thought of rejection. Would the blond hand accept her love or would he treat her like a friend always in the friend zone?

“Ouch,” she hissed as the knife cut through her skin, she dropped the potato and glanced at the cut on her index finger, blood slowly began to drip from the cut. Trying to keep calm she glanced surprised when Sanji was holding her hand and staring at the wound with a concerned look on his face.

“You have to be careful when using a knife princess,” he said holding her hand close to her lips.

Her heart rate increased rapidly in her chest; she was about to play the part of the female lead when the male lead licked the blood away. Instead, though he dragged her to the table and sat her down pulling out the first aid kit.

He had cut himself numerous times when he was younger and learning to cook the wound itself wasn’t deep but he and been worried. His first reaction was to grab her delicate fingers and lick the blood away, but he had to hold back her fingers inches from his lips. He stopped himself, he had to address the wound first then they would get back to cooking.

“Why didn’t you lick my wound?” She couldn’t hide her disappointment as he was cleaning the wound, with a cotton ball and disinfecting it. He didn’t want her beautiful skin scarred. She was sure if it was Nami or Robin he would have played the romantic hero.

“The stupid swordsman wouldn’t blink twice when he sees how hard you worked on his meal,” Sanji growled he couldn’t hide his irritation the beautiful woman before him was hurt. She was working so hard for an asshole who only cared about booze and swords. He frowned at the thought of her fingers getting cut and was scared for the jerk who would only swallow it and not appreciate anything.

“Hmm, what about Zoro?” she questioned tilting her head hair falling in front of her face. Sanji was wrapping it with a bandage and taking care of her wound.

“He is a dumbass,” Sanji said, “He wouldn’t know good food if it hit him in the face,” why couldn’t he shut up. He was furious seeing her go through all that work and knowing the dumbass would just stomp on her feelings, “but your hearts belong to another man, and I am a gentleman and will respect it,” he sighed as he held her hand he wanted her to understand she was important to him. He tucked a lock of hair behind her ear.

“My heart belongs to you,” she whispered. “The meal was for you,” she glanced at the floor ashamed preparing for rejection.

Sanji stared into her his own heart ready to burst before he could only chuckle, “Then I will gladly accept,” it moving her hand close to his lips he nibbled on her finger.

#sanji imagine #one piece sanji #black leg sanji #sanji #sanji headcanons #vinsmoke sanji headcanon #sanji x reader #black foot sanji #sanji x you #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x y/n

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bluejaysandblackbats · 5 months

Text

Catch and Release

Fandom: DC Comics, Batfam

Summary: AU where Jason doesn’t die in the explosion and he and Tim end up attending the same high school months later.

Chapters: 17/?

Characters: Jason Todd, Bruce Wayne, Alfred Pennyworth, Tim Drake, Dick Grayson, Barbara Gordon, Sebastian Ives, Jack Drake, Janet Drake, Donna Troy

Relationships: TBA

Additional Tag: Jason Todd Lives, Jason Todd-centric, POV Jason Todd, POV First Person, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake Has Issues, Tim Drake is Not Robin, Jason Todd is Not Robin (Anymore), Bruce Wayne Needs a Hug, Alfred Pennyworth is the Best, Alfred Pennyworth Knows, Stalker Tim Drake, Jason Todd Has Chronic Pain, Jason Todd Has PTSD, Angst with a Happy Ending, Unlikely Friends, Injury Recovery, Emotional Baggage, Rage, Bruce Wayne is Bad at Communicating

Chapter Seventeen: The Campaign: Malatra Pt. 1

Tim slept in his bed one last time while I packed our things. My phone rang, and I answered to keep from waking Tim up. “Hello?” I whispered.

“Jason, I heard about your friend’s mother—.”

“You don’t have to say anything… Um, Barbara, can I ask you for a favor?” I interrupted.

“I don’t know. It depends… Is it illegal?” Barbara asked.

“No. It’s—. I need you to help me get back in fighting shape. I know Bruce won’t change his mind because I can throw a couple of solid punches, but I’ve gotta do this for myself. I need to know I didn’t let the accident beat me,” I explained. I told her as much of the truth as I could.

“Jason… Wednesday through Friday after school. No excuses,” Barbara replied. I grinned.

“I’ll be there. I promise,” I whispered, “Thank you. Thank you, Barbara. You’re the best.” Barbara was a tough person to move. She wasn’t emotionally driven or faint of heart. Barbara was sharp and efficient. Practical and poised. She was everything I needed in a teacher.

“ Yeah, yeah, yeah. See how you feel about me after our first training session. Bye, Jason… And good on you for getting back up. I thought about what I said to you the last time we talked. I was wrong to tell you that you were being childish. If taking this time away from home was good for your mental health, who am I to tell you—?”

“Barbara, I am a kid. I never said I wasn’t. I was pissed off and closed in, and I reacted. I was in a dark place, and I’d be lying if I said I wanted to go home now… I know it’s what I have to do. I’m gonna be mature about it, for Tim’s sake,” I replied, “I’ve gotta finish packing… But, um—. Thank you, Barbara.”

“Don’t thank me yet, Boy Wonder. See you Wednesday,” Barbara teased. She hung up, and I shook Tim awake.

He pushed my face away and laughed. “ Uggghhh. Jason, what are you doing?” Tim asked.

“She’s gonna train me. Wednesday through Friday, so we’ll condition Saturday through Monday,” I replied. Tim grinned.

“And on Tuesday ?” Tim half-joked.

“Warlocks and Warriors,” I replied, “And—. Oh, Ives wants to come over tonight. I gave him Bruce’s address and said he could stay the night.”

“Ives wanted to hang out? Does he—?”

I nodded. “Ives knows, but I asked him not to mention it… Unless…” I trailed off. Tim shook his head. “Then, he won’t…” I tied labels to Tim’s chargers and tucked them into his suitcase.

We went to the manor at sunset because I knew Bruce wouldn’t be there. Alfred seemed happy to see us again. Ives showed up an hour after we got there, and Alfred served dinner. “Hey, guys… Do you wanna do another campaign here this weekend?” I asked.

Tim’s eyes widened. “You want to?” Tim questioned. I nodded.

“That’d be sick,” Ives replied.

“Cool. Tell the guys Tuesday we’ll hang out here,” I replied. Ives glanced at Tim and looked at his plate when he saw me looking. Tim was oblivious to everything going on in his life because of everything.

“Jason should DM this one,” Tim suggested. I choked. “Come on. You can do it. I see how deep you get into character. And you’re the only person willing to indulge Hudson. Besides, I think the guys are still mad at me for what happened in Ravenloft.”

“That was messed up. I can’t believe you killed Ives first and swapped him out with a Doppelganger. That was sick. And Ives… I’m shocked you let him go through with that,” I replied.

Tim smiled. I reached for my bed to pull myself up, but I felt a shockwave shoot down my back into my legs, and I let go of the mattress. “Jason?” Tim asked.

“I’m okay… But like—. Are you guys sure you want me to DM?” I questioned.

“Yeah, definitely,” Ives replied, “You’ve gotta try it at least once. If you don’t like it, you don’t have to do it again, but you should give it a chance. You might be good.”

"In the living forest lands of Malatra, all seems quiet. Suspiciously so. A warm breeze blows, rustling through the canopies overhead. Topiaries of smiling children surround a small fire. It is the only possible sign of life for several miles. A song breaks through the near-silent forest. It starts low and guttural, like a collective groan, and then the ethereal choral collections of synchronized sobs. It is a song of mourning. A once-distant sound, now building as if it is approaching. The forest's dirt walkways slowly disappear under shrubs and bushes, and it seems like a trick to the eye at first, but no. You see it now. The bushes have feet where roots should be, and finally, a male voice breaks through the grieving chorus," I cleared my throat. "State your business," I bellowed. "He steps forward. A bamboo elf. His hair is a warm brown with the same red undertones of autumn leaves. He keeps his hair in wide and intricate waves and curls. His skin is an olivine green, and his eyes dark brown and ancient, study you. You all recognize this bamboo elf immediately, but before we get into that… you should introduce yourselves." A big, goofy grin spread across Tim's face. Silence fell over my room as I waited for someone to speak.

"You fucking killed it," Hudson mumbled in shock. I covered my smile. "Clay Everlake, earth genasi monk here. I'm stone grey, with bright green hair made of leaves, with the front pulled into a warrior's bun—."

"Man bun penalty!" everyone shouted.

"Is not! Anyway ... It's a warrior's bun, and the rest of my hair hangs leafy down my shoulders. I'm fairly young, rough and tumble, and trouble seems to follow me wherever I go," Hudson answered.

I gestured to Ives. "Eldrid Deepwood, here. I'm a firbolg druid... I uh—. I have bluish-green skin and dark eyes. My hair is whiteish-grey, luscious, and thick, almost mane-like. My ears are floppy... And uh—. And despite my advanced age, I'm a timid sort of fella," Ives stammered in an Irish accent.

I nodded and pointed to Hudman. "Fettar Keephorn. Dwarven rogue, dark beard, dark brown eyes. My loyalties lie with Clay Everlake... Unfortunately," Hudman muttered in a dry voice. We all laughed. "I'm not much for words."

And Tim. I looked forward to Tim's character because we'd been pretty hush-hush about our plans all week, which meant we had nothing to discuss outside of training. "Posy Moonfall, gnome cleric here. I've got blond shoulder-length hair and grey eyes hidden behind foggy glasses. Well, they're usually quite—. I'm not used to being in the presence of a man of Mr. Deepwood's stature. I'm clumsy, but my intuitive nature makes up for my shortcomings... At least, I think—. Oh gosh. Am I rambling?" Tim replied in a woman's voice. He was surprisingly good at it. I almost forgot my place.

I cleared my throat before continuing. "Clay Everlake, your connection to this bamboo elf is deeply personal. Isn't it?" I asked, nodding at him. I liked Hudson. He always made me laugh and was my favorite of Tim's friends. He also tried to make me feel better about my scars by showing me the dent in his forehead. It wasn't the same, but he genuinely thought it was.

"He raised me. When my family was slaughtered on the outskirts of Malatra, he took me in and raised me. He's a father to me," Hudson answered. Hudson and I locked eyes, and I smiled down at my notes. "I didn't expect to see him under such grim circumstances."

"And Fettar?" I questioned.

"The elf and I… used to date,” Hudman replied. We all laughed.

“Fettar and Theren Everlake dated? You guys were—.”

“A couple. Yep,” Hudman doubled down.

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storeecbrcod · 4 months

Text

MWIII: Soap’s Nautilus Skin

Hear me out!

I’ve been told that Warzone is technically connected to the canon campaign, loosely, hence why everyone was really confused when Soap got his new Nautilus skin. He’s supposed to be dead, he shouldn’t be getting new legit-looking skins, at least not so soon after the campaign.

But, for the sake of my brainworm (that I know I share with others, shh), let’s assume Soap’s nautilus skin means he’s alive somehow. Let’s do some study (courtesy @ave661, doing god’s work for us ty):

Look at my pretty boy! Mask, gas tanks, and cool ass details, yeah? Just an awesome skin.

Let me put way too much detail and thought into this in the form of a ‘quick’ ficlet.

TW: canon-typical violence, medical settings, mentions of terrorism, mentions of torture/brainwashing. TLDR at the end :)

The 141 had been distracted as of late, chasing around a group of slippery but deadly terrorists that had made it their fucking mission to make the task force trip over them. Nobody was sure if they were intentional red herrings from Makarov, or just another rising force amongst disgruntled people that turned to violence to be heard. Either way, it was starting to really grate on everyone’s nerves, having to put the hunt for Makarov aside to deal with a new threat every other week, one too big and too elaborate for local defence departments to handle alone without the 141’s experience.

Because it was always the same elusive cunts fucking something up. Killing someone they shouldn’t have, intercepting deals and creating unrest amongst major crime rings around the world and sparking unrest through their deep, wide-spread roots. The team knew well how a small conflict could snowball into a wide-scale war, and it felt like they were preventing one every time there was a report of soldiers in black, glowing green tech with a hazy green tint to their eyes.

Price could see the way his team (3’s still a crowd, right?) was starting to grow restless with the near constant pull from their goal of finding Makarov, especially Ghost. He grew more distant by the day, getting more and more ruthless out field, reminding Price of his early days on the Task Force. Whether they liked it or not, Makarov had diminished forces right now, and he was not as much threat as—

“Fuck, Gaz, watch out!”

Another explosion went off, knocking Price and Gaz to the ground, their breath stolen as they tried to clamber back up to move out of range of fire. It felt like it was coming from everywhere, relentless, chaotic. The thudding of Price’s heart was the only thing that gave him rhythm, guidance on how to react and when and why. He pulled his sergeant to cover behind some stacked crates and dropping, continuing to heave through his strict chest.

This was the closest they’d gotten to the fuckers, never managing to see more than a glimpse of these skilled soldiers before. They gave them a run for their money, Price had admitted sourly many a time. They were legends on each base they travelled to now, infamous for how hard they were to catch, even for the equally infamous 141.

But now, they were close. It was eerie watching these people, almost robotic in their execution, unwavering, unafraid. They’d run into active fire if it meant they had a decent chance to advance and catch someone off guard. And somehow, they managed to get away, every damn time. They seemed to not register pain, either, if the way the one woman soldier continued to walk around despite her obviously broken leg was anything to go by.

They were like zombies, and it was deeply unsettling.

As far as Price could tell, there were two hostiles running around above them through the catwalks of the hangar they were currently pinned in. They were trying to pick shots, but they’d shoot their direction randomly as well, making it that much harder to predict when it was safe to poke their heads out to see if they even had a chance of running out.

“Ghost, where the fuck are you?” Price growled into his comms. The other man had been radio silent for almost half an hour now, ever since this stupid cat and mouse game started. They’d come in here to chase the bastards down, yet somehow his team were the ones being chased. It was beyond irritating, and it was also putting them in unreasonable danger.

“Cap!”

Gaz’s sudden yell had Price’s head on a swivel, following the man’s gaze to above them. Somehow, the third soldier of the little trio had managed to flank them, looking down at them from another isolated catwalk.

How Price neglected to watch their six, he didn’t know.

All he knew was there was a barrel of a rifle pointed straight at them from 10 metres up.

Within milliseconds, he knew three things; one, he wouldn’t be able to move Gaz and himself out of the firing line without making themselves vulnerable to the other hostiles. Two, any move they made now had them killed. And three…

Makarov was behind these soldiers.

Because who else would make their most deadly soldier, the most aggressive of the trio, the one that risked his life even more than his teammates, the one who seemed to hold easy leadership over the others—

Who else would shave their best soldier’s head into a mohawk, if not to taunt them?

Before he could even think to shield Gaz, pull him to his chest in a last-ditch effort to protect him in the hope that someone would get back home to tell their story, a dark blur slammed into the back of the soldier above, sending his rifle clattering to the floor. It was almost surreal, watching the mohawk’d soldier struggle against darkness, the occasional flash of stark white dancing around him.

Fists were exchanged. Bullets were sprayed towards them sporadically, but too out of range to hit accurately. The short barrier of the catwalk bit into the soldier’s lower back, starting to dangerously teeter further and further over it.

The rifle’s impact to the concrete hadn’t even finished echoing around the hangar when Price watched two figures tumble from the catwalk, grappling in the air. A sickening thud followed, the two bodies rolling with each other, parting and leaving one still on the ground while the other heaved on his hands and knees.

The moment of stunned silence seemed to hang forever, though it was only a second in reality. The gunfire had stopped, two sets of footsteps echoing down the corridors away from them. It left Price’s team, Gaz frozen and Ghost shaking with adrenaline, with an unconscious soldier.

Ghost crawled over to the body first, followed by Price standing over him. His veins were molten in rage, scorned again by the sight of his closest soldier posed over an unmoving soldier with a mohawk.

Fuck, they even got his eyebrow scar. I wonder what they did to create that?

Unlike last time, though, a muffled groan left the man on the ground, the body shifting slightly uncomfortably. His eyes (blue… what the fuck?) fluttered open, blinking away the confusion that likely fogged his mind. He breathed in, deep and full—

Even Price flinched at how fast the soldier’s hands came up to grasp at his mask, gasping, choking behind it, clawing desperately at a crack that spanned the left side of it. Blue eyes lit up with desperation, legs coming up to kick uselessly at the ground, back contracting as if in pain.

Reacting as a unit, Gaz moved forward to hold the soldier’s legs down, Price grabbing the man’s vest and forcing him down with all his might, Ghost grabbing his arms, forcing one to his side for Price to pin under his knees and holding the other one down. Even with three people on him, the soldier put up a good fight, even though it seemed like it was out of panic more than resistance.

Ghost grabbed the mask, struggling with the release catches that seemed to be stitched into the side of the man’s head, unable to get them loose. With a growl, he shuffled to force the soldier’s other arm down with his own leg, grabbing his throwing knife and carefully shucking it into the stuck lip of the release. He hit the butt of his knife, hearing the catch pop open before forcing the soldier’s head to the side and repeating the action.

The soldier only seemed to fight harder, turning his head away frantically as Ghost tried to yank the mask off. Despite having three people on him, he still managed to jostle them, pulling his hand out from under Ghost and earning himself a painful twist of the wrist.

“Ghost…”

“Stay still, fucker—”

With a final tug, the cracked mask is thrown from the soldier’s face, and it only makes the man thrash harder. His gasps for air are no longer muffled, the painful choking and heaves bouncing off the tall walls around them, surrounding them as they tried to hold him down.

It isn’t until his body tenses up completely, lips going blue that Price is finally able to get a proper look at the soldier’s face, and once again time stands still.

Those damn blue eyes stared up at Ghost, not breaking eye contact, and Price could swear he feels each of Ghost’s muscles tense up individually, his breathing stop alongside the body beneath them. The crude scar that dissected through the man’s chin was on full display, and he thinks he hears Gaz gasp beside him, his eyes glancing between the man’s face and Price’s own.

The soldier’s head was turned towards Ghost just enough to reveal the edge of the left side of his hairline, where a fading but ugly scar puckered right along his temple.

Price doesn’t stop Ghost from getting up and walking away once the man on the ground falls unconscious, his heart rate slow and his breaths returning even slower, but returning nonetheless.

Price doesn’t stop Gaz moving to take Ghost’s place, grabbing the body’s face so firmly yet so delicately, moving it back and forth as if to check he was real.

Price doesn’t react with anger when Laswell is silent on the other side of the radio, nor does he answer any questions except to insist on an emergency evac for their ‘prisoner’.

Price doesn’t do anything, except recite the paperwork they’d filed just two years ago, fixing it in his head over and over to come to terms.

John “Soap” MacTavish: KIA ALIVE

——————————————————————————

“This is fucking insane, even for Makarov.”

Nobody discounted Gaz’s observation, all just staring through the glass into the guarded hospital room holding John fucking MacTavish, lying still while tubes breathed for his sedated body. Well, all except Ghost.

They hadn’t seen Ghost in days.

Funnily enough, Nikolai had gone radio silent around the same time, too.

Hm.

Even Laswell had made her way over from her most recent post, vowing to lead the investigative efforts into Soap’s condition. The good thing was, he was relatively unscathed. Littered with new scars, sure. Aggressive and unforthcoming with even attempting to remember any of them, that too. Oh, yeah, and his body tries to shut down every time they take him off of the highest dose of anaesthetics, and nobody knows why, and he can’t tell them why.

Price has a headache.

“John.”

Price, Gaz, and the few medics with them all turned as Laswell approached, and their reaction was immediate. They all seemed to see the gravity in her features, sense the density of what she had to say on her tongue. Her frustration and worry was palpable, in her own stone-cold way.

Price hasn’t seen her like this since… well, ever. It didn’t invoke him with much confidence.

“We finally got the toxicology results back for the gas in the tanks,” she stated, though she didn’t offer the paperwork in her hands. Actually, she gripped the package with white knuckles. Another action that made Price even less confident this news was going to be anywhere near pleasant.

“And?”

“He’s developed a non-lethal strain of Nova gas.”

Silence. Pure silence. Disbelief? Bewilderment? Surprise? Who fucking knows. But they were silent.

“Nobody’s sure how it works just yet,” Laswell continues curtly, looking to Soap’s body through the window. “But it’s a pretty strong theory as to why Sergeant MacTavish was acting so…”

“Zombie-like?” Gaz offers, an interruption met with Laswell pursing her lips for a moment.

“I’d prefer another word, but if it fits.”

Quiet befalls them all again, Price scratching at his beard in an attempt to dispel the twisting mess of anger, worry and confusion. It’s been hard, trying to continue applying pressure to Makarov while they’re a Lieutenant down and distracted by an old teammate basically raised from the dead.

“We managed to extract some files from a hard drive found in one of Makarov’s bogus operation suites,” Laswell continued, looking back to John with more concern than before, really not helping on the confidence front. “I have people combing through them, though a lot of them are encrypted so thoroughly they’ll take days to decode. However, there are a few bits and pieces of jumbled reports, seemingly test experiments involving the new strain. The only new information we have at this point is how they acclimatise their patients to the gas.”

“Acclimatise?” John repeated, gruff with restrained emotion. Leadership and professionalism was always important, but right now, he couldn’t care less about seeming totally calm.

“Yes, acclimatise,” it sounded barbaric with the way she said it, like it was glimpse into what it meant. “They’d place the test subjects into gas chambers, restrained, and flood the chamber with the gas. Somehow the body adapts to rely on the gas as air after rigorous training.”

“Torture through suffocation more like,” Gaz grumbled, glancing between Price and Laswell, whose jaw ticked.

“Apparently, the gas is most effective when the patient is fully reliant,” she added, then shrugged. “Effective in what way, the team has no clue. Though they’re pretty confident it’s the efficacy to reduce cognition enough to lose the ability to do anything without outside influence.”

“Like a damn personal attack dog,” Price growled.

A beat of silence lingered, everyone in the room trying to comprehend how this would affect Soap’s recovery. If he could recover at all.

“So that’s why he acts like he’s suffocating when he’s conscious?” Gaz inquired. “Because he is?”

“We can only assume so.”

“This is so fucked up,” Gaz whispered, linking his hands behind his head and looking to Soap again. It was like some movie bullshit, the impossible becoming possible but without the safety of being in your living room. Watching a tornado head your way when you’re in the middle of a damn field. Absolutely impossible to comprehend, yet happening anyway, beyond your control.

“We’re going to see if keeping him sedated and letting his body recover from what could be years of exposure will reverse the effects of the chemical,” Laswell said slowly, but interrupted herself with a sigh, looking to Price earnestly.

Price thinks he sees his last sliver of confidence drift off in the breeze of the ventilation.

“We also have to consider his supposedly lethal GSW,” she slowly continues, shuffling where she stood. “We can only assume the parts of his brain responsible for memory, speech, thought processing was impaired with the injury.”

“There’s a chance nothing will change because his injury could have destroyed his ability to reason and remember before the gas,” a medic speaks up, putting the dots together quickly in her head and turning to Price, brow etched with concern. “There’s a very small possibility he will recover completely, or even to the point of independence.”

Price shared a look with Gaz, then the medics, and finally Laswell again. The words stuck in his chest, resistant to the idea of speaking something into being.

“We might not get Johnny back at all.”

——————————————————————————

…soooo :3

TLDR: Makarov has developed a new strain of gas, which he uses to suppress the cognitive reasoning in those that breathe it in, and allows him to train them into his cute lil super soldiers. The reason for the gas masks and everything? The soldier becomes reliant on it, their body adapting to rely on it fully like oxygen, otherwise they feel like they’re suffocating, hence needing to have it everywhere they go.

I know it’s very winter soldier, but to be honest it would make the most sense to me if Soap’s survival becomes canon. It rolls a few pre-MWIII theories into one; Soap ‘dies’ (canon), Soap is the traitor, and Soap is brainwashed by Makarov. It would be so interesting imo, and if they don’t take it I WILL RIOT—

Anywayyyy… I have vague explanations for things, i.e spreading his ashes that could totally work (with a little bit of narrative bending ✨) but I ain’t gonna go into it here and now. I could though…

Also, I know Nova gas isn’t what the gas is called, that it’s a similar thing from a grenade in the game. But fucking sue me, I’m not gonna make Laswell say “he’s developed a new strain of Unspecified Chemical Gas” like it’s some 13 year old’s Garage Band song they forgot about. Chill. It even says on the (totally very reliable) wiki that the closest thing is Nova gas, seeing as it’s the EXACT SAME except players who inhale it don’t cough. Stay back, Call Of Duty purists!! 🤺💨

#mwiii spoilers #tw violence #tw torture #tw brainwashing #call of duty #call of duty modern warfare #cod fanfic #cod mwiii #mwiii #soap mwii #ficlet #someone for the love of god get John Price an aspirin #the nautilus skin so freaking cool though #I’m willing to continue this btw #brain worms #✨pin worms✨#ifykyk

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