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kiame-sama · 4 months ago

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Humans Are Extinct (Yandere!TWST x Fem!Reader) Monster AU pt 7

(Last of my predrawn beast men, so I should probably see if I can get the next chapter picture drawn despite my slow af laptop fighting me for every bit of existence)

Warnings; Yandere, platonic yandere, romantic yandere yandere behavior, yandere tempers, yandere attitudes, custody battle, poaching, territorial behavior, hoard guarding, implied violence, cooking, casual threats, untrusting yet kind-hearted reader, fem pronouned reader, Vampire Bat, Raiju, Cervitaur, Dragon, Crow, Unicorn, Cecilia, Harpy, Nemean Lion, Shinigami, Water Nymph, Gnoll, Crow,

~~~~~~~~

The loud crack of thunder drew you from your deep sleep. You had been pressing your face and entire body into the warmth beneath you and you could already feel the faint imprints along your cheek from whatever you were laying on. Thunder continued to roll outside and you slowly tried to gather your bearings.

Currently, you were in the nest Malleus had constructed in Ramshackle, though you were not the only occupant when you fell asleep or when you woke up. Lilia and Sebek were awake, their gazes turned outside and it was still rather dark out. You slowly sat up, trying to see what was so interesting outside when a green bolt of lighting struck the ground near Ramschackle. The sudden lighting forced a squeak of fright to escape you which drew the attention of Lilia and Sebek.

"I was worried he would wake you. It's alright, (Y/n), go back to sleep."

"What's going on, Lilia?"

"An unfortunate poacher decided to try their luck and Malleus was the one who took note of their presence. Don't worry, you're safe."

"Is Malleus okay?"

Lilia giggled at this, reaching out a hand to pat your head in an affectionate way. He was acting as if he didn't just say Malleus was fighting someone who was trying to hunt you down for their own nefarious gains.

"Of course he is. Malleus is a Dragon and there are very few who can actually stand up against a Dragon."

You were going to respond to Lilia when you noticed something strange. Silver didn't seem to be present and he certainly wasn't with Lilia or Sebek. Worry began to bubble up in your chest as to where the Reindeer man could possibly be before you felt the warm bed beneath you breathe.

Looking down, you were both horrifed with yourself and the situation as you realized you had been laying across Silver's Reindeer half like a bed. Your legs straddled the Reindeer's hips and you had likely been nuzzled down into the shoulder blades of the deer half. His human half was sitting up and completely still even as one of his blue and pink aurora colored eyes stared at you over his shoulder.

He was very warm and soft.

"Oh? Oh! Goodness, Silver, I'm so sorry-!"

As soon as it hit you that you must have crawled on top of the Reindeer during the night, you were quickly trying to get off of his back. Lilia actually started to laugh as you quickly dismounted from the Reindeer's back, falling back into a pile of pillows and disrupting poor Grim. The cat-like creature responded in a startled way to being jostled, his pronged tail lashing wildly as his fur stood on end in fear. You would have laughed at the startled response if you didn't feel so badly about frightening him to that point.

"Myeh?! Hey! What's the big deal? I'm sleeping-"

Another crack of thunder sent the furball diving forward to hide against your stomach, shaking in abject horror from the uncomfortably close sound. Of course Grim would be terrified of lightning, who knows how easily that 'den' of his would flood in a storm or how close he has been to being struck by a bolt. You couldn't help but pull the soft gray critter closer, petting his torn ears and back to try and soothe him even as his little wings shook.

"... You can lay on my back if that will help you sleep."

The almost tired drawl came from Silver as he slightly turned to look at you better, his Reindeer half partially rolling to one side when he yawned. Despite how inviting the offer was, you were still upset with yourself and worried you had offended the silver haired man somehow. Though you had been dubious about sharing the large nest with your- mostly uninvited- guests, you had been the one to invade his personal space and even climbed on his back while you slept.

"No! No, it's okay. I'm so sorry, Silver. I didn't mean to-"

"Why are you so upset?"

"... What?"

"I'm not angry, if that's why you're worried. Father sleeps on my back quite often during the day. I'm not angry you chose me as your sleeping companion."

"But I didn't mean to-"

"I know. You likely were drawn to how warm I typically am. It is quite drafty in this building, and it doesn't seem like there is any central heating."

You made a mental note to ask the professors about potentially acquiring a heated blanket to avoid cuddling your bed companions while you slept. It seemed like Silver was being truthful with you as Lilia crawled over to your side from where he had been gazing out the window. He was quick to flop down across the secondary shoulders of the large Reindeer and ruffled the silver fur with his Bat wings as he made himself comfortable.

"Silver's nice and soft, and his coat always keeps him warm even in winter. He really does make a good bed whenever I need a quick nap. Besides, he makes such cute little snoring sounds-"

"Father!"

"Keeheehee, just saying~ (Y/n), you should have seen him when he was just a little wobbly calf. I have some pictures back at Diasomnia I can show you. His legs were so long and he always tripped over them-"

"Father, please."

Lilia's joking helped calm your stress from the situation and also seemed to be helping Grim calm down. The blue-eyed cat-bat finally lifted his head from where he had been hiding his face against your stomach, reaching out a paw to touch the Reindeer's side. He clearly must have liked how warm and soft Silver was as he crawled out of your arms, curling up next to Lilia on Silver's back and snuggling down into the shaggy fur. You almost missed it, but as you looked up at Silver you could see a clear bright pink blush painting his fair cheeks before he looked away.

"It's over. My liege is on his way back."

Sebek said calmly, still looking outside with an almost unreadable expression. The lightning hadn't struck more than once and the thunder quickly quieted down after the first boom that woke you. It was almost like the storm was not actually a storm and you wondered just what it was that caused the lightning or why it was green.

He entered the room silently, only his bright green eyes were visible in the dark of the hallway as if he were wreathed in shadows themselves before he entered the room. Moonlight streamed across his form and he was once again the odd Dragon that had stumbled across you that first day.

"Did I wake you, child of man?"

"The thunder did."

"My apologies."

"Why are you apologizing for thunder? You didn't make it happen... Right?"

Malleus smiled as he returned to the nest, settling by your side and smiling at you patiently. It must not have been raining as he didn't seem to have a drop of water on him. He tilted his head and regarded you affectionately as if he were watching a beloved pet paw at him for attention.

"How little you know... Don't worry, there won't be anymore thunder tonight. I have the feeling that my message was recieved loud and clear."

"Did..." you found it oddly difficult to talk, "did you kill someone?"

Malleus didn't answer you, he just slowly blinked and reached out a clawed hand, patting your head gently. You found yourself wanting a bit more distance from the Dragon, wondering if you made a mistake to ask a question you truly did not want the answer to. As per usual, Lilia was quick to interrupt the tension with a loud yawn and stretch as if to imply you all should return to sleep.

"Here, (Y/n), I'll groom you to sleep again!"

"You really don't have to, Lilia."

"But I want to."

"One of these days I need to talk to everyone about personal space..."

~•§•~

The early morning dawn seemed to be a sleepy one as things slowly emerged from their warm beds and into the brisk morning. The low roll of thunder heard late in the night was certainly not lost on anyone as to the source of the sound. Even the few who rose for an early meeting seemed to be acutely aware of the Dragon's absence.

"Good morning, all. I have called this meeting at the behest of Riddle concerning the most recent events of orientation."

The Headmage stood at the head of the table, his feathers slightly ruffled from sleep as it was still quite early in the day. He usually rose with the sun and clearly had more energy than some of the Housewardens sitting at the table. Leona was barely awake as he lay with his head on the table, only the flicking tail showed the Nemean Lion was even conscious.

"As I am sure you all know by now, we have a Human living in the dorm on the main campus. Unlike most dorms, you do not need to enter a mirror to get to it and so it is easier for outsiders to access. However, there is no other place the Human can stay without putting her at risk of too curious students. Riddle, you told me you had a solution in mind for this?"

Riddle nodded, clearing his throat and straightening his bow.

"(Y/n) is Human and we all understand the gravity of the situation at hand. Humans died out from Twisted Wonderland centuries ago and now one has appeared in our school. It is our duty as Housewardens to assist in the safeguarding of this Human as her survival could mean the beginning of advancements made far beyond our lifetimes and even in our lives now. I'm sure we all understand the importance of keeping her safe. This being said, I am of the mind that it's time to switch out who is safeguarding (Y/n). This should be a shared duty of all the Housewardens, not just a privilege exclusive to Diasomnia."

Crowley nodded, leaning against his hand as he gave the proposition more thought. It seemed several of the other Housewardens were in agreement- at least, those who were physically present- at the idea of a shared responsibility.

"I, for one, think this is a wonderful idea, Riddle. Octavinelle is ready to open our doors to this poor unfortunate soul and keep her safe."

"You aren't usually one to offer help without a price, Azul. What are you looking to get out of this?"

"Nothing, of course! Just looking to help the less fortunate."

"I highly doubt that, Azul."

It was then Vil spoke up, the Harpy regarding the other Housewardens as if assessing them while he spoke. He could raise issue with letting the soft Human stay with any one of these uncouth ruffians.

"I agree that we all need to take turns guarding the Human, but how many of us can honestly be trusted with her? It is clear now that all of Twisted Wonderland will soon know she is here if they don't already. Frankly I wouldn't trust any one of you with her safety. Riddle, what makes you think you should be the one to protect her?"

"W-What?"

"It was one of your dorm's students who decided to post a picture of her. I think your dorm has done enough damage for now. I should think you would agree to revoke your own rights to guard her until you can prove you are able to keep your students in line."

"What is that supposed to mean, Vil?"

"Oh? Do I have to spell it out for you? Usually you're smarter than this, Riddle."

Vil stood, his crest raised and an almost cruel smile curling his lips as he approached the distraught Unicorn. As far as Riddle was concerned, only he knew the rules to taking proper care of a Human so only he could provide adequate accommodations for her. But the way Vil spoke made a dark kind of doubt seep into Riddle's mind, wondering if the Harpy could be right and that alone was an upsetting reality Riddle didn't really want to face at the moment.

"You can't even begin to protect that Human from students in your own dorm, how can you hope protect her from actual threats?"

Riddle wanted to retort or have the grinning Harpy's head but he couldn't find the words to respond to the proud bird. Vil only grinned wider at the silence he was met with before turning to the other Housewardens with that same energy.

"None of you can. Leona shouldn't even be considered given he's a Nemean Lion. Azul will try to make a deal with her. Kalim will lose her within minutes. Idia can't even talk to us let alone talk to and protect her. Really, the only two who could be of any use are Malleus and I. Malleus is genetically wired to be a good guardian and I certainly have enough skill to actually keep her alive."

Crowley considered Vil's words, tilting his head side to side as he thought about what the Harpy said. He was of the mind to just let the Human choose her own guard, but maybe he would have to reconsider that given how upset the Housewardens were getting over her and it had only been two days. There was truth to the unusual charm of the extinct species and the hold they clearly had over others even in such a short time.

"I think you all are ignoring the bigger truth and being selfish as hell."

The growl came from the golden lion that now lifted his head from the table he had been resting it on. His green eyes glinted in the morning light and the faint sunrays seemed to shine off of his golden coat. Even his wild tresses held a faint glimmer that made the prince look every bit as regal as his lineage suggested.

"She isn't from here. She has a home she likely wants to go back to. We can't talk like we're keeping her when we should find a way to send that Mousey home."

"I would agree with you, Leona," Azul started, his eyes glinting with humor at the knowledge he was about to reveal, "but there are a few problems with that notion. Jade and I spoke with her yesterday and she claims she came from somewhere filled with Humans. There is nowhere like that left in Twisted Wonderland. I would wager she is from another reality entirely, one where only Humans thrive. One that we can't get to despite many trying in the past to prove we are not alone. I don't know how she got here, but she is stuck here now. Besides, do you really want to be the one to tell Malleus we are taking his Human away? I get you don't pay attention in classes, but I certainly do and I have heard the many tales of Dragons going as far as to kidnap Humans they are fond of."

Leona growled a low warning to the Cecilia to watch his words lest he be the recieving party of the Lion's ire. Though he was a lazy Lion and didn't seem to be bothered with much, he was still a force to be reckoned with when he actually decided to fight.

"Why the hell should I care why that damn lizzard wants the Human?"

"Well, Dragons and other Fae did take the extinction of Humans the hardest and mourn the longest, I would wager the older ones are still in mourning. Next to them, the Merfolk were the next most heartbroken by the ending of such a fascinating species. I wouldn't expect you to understand- being a Nemean Lion and all- but-"

"Keep talking, Cephalo-punk and I'll give you something to mourn over."

Azul closed his mouth quickly, knowing he wouldn't actually stand a chance if pitted against the weapon-immune golden Lion. For all his abilities, so many seemed to pale in comparison to the sheer strength Leona contained in his form alone. Out of the water, a Lion would always win in a direct fight against an octopus, the same was true for Nemean Lions and Cecilia.

"I can protect her better than most of you but none of you want to admit that. You all want to pretend I'll gobble that little Mousey up and refuse to even let me stand my own ground. What? Too afraid she'll like me more than you lot?"

This got Vil's feathers to ruffle as the Harpy seemed ready to fight the grinning Lion that so clearly challenged those at the table. Luckily for everyone else, the floating tablet finally decided to interrupt the conversation.

"Fine, we all gotta do it. I vote everyone's dorm gets put in a raffle and the next Housewarden to guard her is chosen that way."

"This is unlike you, Idia. You don't even show up in person to most classes."

"Humans were the best inventors we had before they died out. The last human lived on the Isle of Woe and made enough inventions to keep the Shroud family rich for centuries. Why wouldn't I want the best story telling species and most inventive species to give me new ideas? Probably why you want her too, Azul."

"Well, I certainly understand a profitable business venture when one is presented to me..."

"Exactly my point."

Crowley nodded, clapping his hands together and drawing the attention of those at the table. He heard exactly what he wanted to hear and he was willing to give every Housewarden a fair chance, even Leona.

"I believe a raffle is a fantastic idea, Mr. Shroud! And because I am just so kind to all, every Housewarden will be given a fair shot."

"Headmage, I beg you to reconsider-"

"Let's start this raffle!"

Riddle tried to start but the Crow had made up his mind and there was no changing it. As he used magic to summon his usual way of raffling students, he glanced around the room for a moment. Odd, he only counted six but there should be seven?

"... Did no one remember to invite Mr. Draconia to today's meeting?"

~•§•~

You stood in the kitchen of Ramschackle dorms, tiredly cooking up enough breakfast to feed your uninvited guests, Cater, yourself, and Grim. Despite your annoyance at being the only one to cook- let alone being the only one who really knew how- you dutifully continued your task. According to Silver, Lilia actually cooked often but was so abysmally bad at it they all thought cooking was a useless skill. It wasn't until you cooked for them that they even realized cooking food could actually make it taste better and not worse.

"If you all insist on making me cook for you, I'm going to insist you all provide the ingredients. The kitchen may be well stocked now, but if I have to keep feeding extra mouths every day the pantry is going to eventually run out."

You idly listened to the sizzle as you half-jokingly scolded the group that milled about your kitchen and sniffed in your direction occasionally. They were eager to get some breakfast from you and had all woken up before you did in anticipation for the warm meal you would no doubt create. Apparently you had once again moved to cuddle Silver's warm body in your sleep and the Reindeer refused to let Grim or even Lilia wake you before the sun was mostly up. The five others in the shared nest were all in agreement to let you wake on your own time, but your actual invited guest was quick to herald in the morning and woke you. It seemed like Malleus and Sebek were ready to attack the redhead but quickly calmed when you pulled yourself out of the nest to start cooking.

Cater had been an affectionate nuisance and asked you nonstop questions about what you were doing and how Humans cooked things. It became very clear to you- based on his questions and curiosity- that junkfood really didn't exist in Twisted Wonderland. Despite how you wanted to cry upon hearing this and mourn the loss of your comfort foods, you realized that you may be able to make your own junkfoods. You would certainly need help acquiring things, but there had to be some kind of inventive monster on this campus that could help you.

"I agree! These guys can bring the food and you can cook it! Why let them get all this free stuff if they don't help with getting or making it?"

"I can help cook-"

You were quick to smack the reaching hand with your wooden spoon, startling Lilia as his wings fluffed out in surprise.

"You," you started with a near threatening tone, "will keep your hands off of the things in my kitchen. Silver already told me how your cooking is and I will not allow you to scorch my meals."

"I think I'm a pretty good cook-"

"The answer is 'no'. You don't get to cook in my kitchen. I agree with Grim that it would be a welcome change to have you all bring me the foods you want and maybe even more spices than the few I have here, but you aren't cooking. If you really want to help me right now, you can start washing dishes."

Silver sent a silent thanks your way for sparing him and the others from another evening spent eating Lilia's cooking. The Bat Fae had learned to love cooking from the few Humans he had the pleasure of meeting, but he was so abysmally bad at it that his 'meals' could barely be considered food. Malleus and Sebek were also relieved to see you quickly shut down any idea of letting Lilia cook and they all breathed a sigh of relief.

"I can do dishes! Riddle and Trey make me do them all the time. Don't know why Trey never lets me help him bake things though."

Cater was quick to roll up his sleeves, starting on the pile of dishes that had already begun to accumulate in the large sink. Maybe it wouldn't be all that bad if you could get your freeloaders to help clean or gather ingredients instead of doing it all yourself. Despite calling them freeloaders, you were appreciative of at least Malleus and Lilia being fairly adept guards for your safety. It did make you wonder what Malleus had done last night, but you also felt in your heart of hearts that you didn't really want to know if the lovely Dragon had killed someone on your behalf.

"Hey," there was loud scratching at that side door again and you already knew who it was, "the door's locked again. Please, have mercy, I'm just a starving Gnoll."

"... I really shouldn't have fed him. He's gonna come back every day and night for more."

You had the foresight to add extra to what you were making, anticipating the unusual pull your cooking seemed to have on the local monster population. Part of you wanted to keep feeding Ruggie as the gaunt appearance of the ever hungry Gnoll pulled at your heartstrings. His clear hunger and almost non-existent stomach told you just how little the Hyena man actually ate and it genuinely saddened you to know he was likely actually starving.

"Lilia, can you get the door?"

"On it~"

Ruggie was quick to scamper up to your side and sniff loudly at the food you were cooking. His tail wagged at almost impossible speeds as his stomach howled to be satiated, his Hyena head bobbing up and down when he began to cackle in excitement. Despite the warnings you had received about Gnolls, Ruggie didn't act like a slavering beast that sought Human flesh, instead he seemed much like someone who grew up never knowing when he could eat again or if he would be safe in the night. He reminded you so much of that first good look you got at Grim, covered in all the scars that riddled his little body and marred his cute appearance with tales of agony sustained. Both of them made you want to protect them however you could.

As you moved over to another pan which you had been using to cook up some scrambled eggs, you couldn't help but chuckle when Ruggie continued to vocalize his excitement. The cackling and whooping from the Hyena was almost a comforting song in the background of your morning. It was only when he reached a grizzled paw towards the pans that you barked out a similar whoop at him. Your sound startled the Gnoll as his gaze snapped to you in surprise, his nose working overtime as if to find the fellow Gnoll that whooped in response to his sounds.

"Woah! You didn't say you knew how to speak Gnoll!"

"I don't."

"What was that then?"

"Where I'm from, Humans are typically quite good at vocal mimicry because it is how most of our infants learn to speak. You were whooping, so I whooped back."

Ruggie cocked his head to the side curiously, you could almost see the gears in his head turning and grinding as he took in your words. His short tail had been still as he lost himself in thought before it resumed the rapid wagging pace as his brain caught back up to the rest of him.

"Cool! What other sounds can you make?"

The rest of your time cooking was spent making various noises- from growls, to cackles, even to various barking- to entertain the Gnoll and distract him from the food. Once it was ready, you had Sebek get enough plates for the eight of you and set to divvying up the meals. Naturally, Ruggie and Grim were the first to happily dig in to their breakfasts.

Things were peaceful and somewhat quiet, but as it usually was in this strange new world, things were not going to stay quiet for long.

"(Y/n)," a familiar voice called from the direction of the door to your dorms, recognizing the voice of the Headmage Crow, "I have news and a gift for you, my little chick! Where are you?"

"We're in the kitchen!"

The Headmage was surprised to see the odd group you had gathered in your kitchen, looking over the various students in surprise.

"Mr. Diamond? What are you doing here?"

"I told Cater he could stay here for the night since he was kicked out of his dorm. Sure, what he did was stupid and I am still mad about it, but no one should have to spend a night in those woods. I wouldn't be able to forgive myself if something terrible happened to him, especially in the name of protecting me."

"It's beautiful," the Crow sniffed as if he were about to cry, "such a heartwarming display of genuine kindness! I would expect nothing less from the beautiful heart of a Human! I've missed you wonderfully naïve and forgiving little creatures so much! Nothing quite like a Human's forgiveness to soothe the turbulent soul!"

You were stunned when the Crow actually burst into tears, covering his face with his hands and openly weeping from your- in your mind- simple act of kindness. It seemed the others weren't prepared for this behavior either as they all stared at the fully grown Crow Fae man weeping and bawling like an infant. He was quick to compose himself despite the sudden onslaught of tears as he pulled you into a hug you were too surprised to return, wondering what his problem was that he was so ready to emotionally break down in front of you.

"My beautiful little chick is the kindest soul to ever live and grace these halls with such a warm heart!"

"Um..."

"Here," he interrupted your confusion and pulled back to shove a hastily wrapped package into your hands, "A gift from your professors! It's a cellular device to let you communicate with us when you need. Sam assures me Idia has already programed our numbers into it and it is ready to be used whenever you wish."

"Thanks? Why-"

"Also! The other Housewardens and I have come to an agreement concerning your continued need for guards due to Mr. Diamond's actions. All Housewardens and their accompanying Vice-Housewardens will contribute to protecting this dorm and will switch out every week based on a raffle. This week is Diasomnia's turn, next week is Ignihyde's turn. You haven't met Idia or Ortho yet, but they'll be by to introduce themselves soon. Well, Ortho probably will be, Idia is excited to meet you but he isn't one to socialize much..."

A deep snarl came from where Malleus stood, casually setting his plate down to face the Crow directly and continue the deep percussive noise of his displeasure. It was more than obvious to everyone that the Dragon was not content with the idea of giving you up even for others to guard.

"You dare divvy up my hoard like I should have no say in what happens to her? My Human is not a pet to trade with anyone and everyone who takes interest."

"I'm not saying that, Malleus, what I am saying is her protection should be taken seriously by all students at Night Raven College and the best way to show others she is worth defending is to allow them time to form their own bonds with her by protecting her. Besides, Diasomnia needs their Housewarden and Vice-Housewarden. It isn't fair to those students to be left without yourself and Mr. Vanrouge permanently."

Malleus just growled in response, knowing Crowley was right but still furious he was not part of the decision making process.

"And Kingscholar? What of his dorm?"

"Mr. Kingscholar is a Housewarden and has made a convincing argument for allowing himself to be one of (Y/n)'s guards. As Savanaclaw has no Vice-Housewarden, it will soley fall on his shoulders when his name is drawn."

Ruggie then spoke up, trying to give yourself and Malleus a wide berth to not upset the Dragon further. Though the Gnoll was quick to fold to more powerful mages, he was excited to hear Leona would be given a chance and equal respect as a Housewarden.

"If Leona actually asked to help, no way he will let anyone tell him no. He doesn't like doing extra work, so the fact he volunteered for extra work shows he actually means to do it!"

"Exactly my thinking! Why deny such a strong student a chance to prove himself? Who knows, perhaps his time with (Y/n) will prove Nemean Lions do not deserve the negative view society has of them."

You were irritated that none of these men bothered to ask you how you feel about the situation, but if the nighttime interruptions were anything to go off of, you were still in danger. Though the prospect of being bounced around between several monster men didn't excite you, there was obviously need for their protective behavior.

"Now, I hope you all enjoy your classes today. I hear there may even be an unbirthday party happening in Heartslabuyl that you may wish to attend. Have a pleasant morning, my little chick."

#kiame-sama #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #reader insert #tw yandere #yandere twisted wonderland #twst yandere #twst monster au #Humans Are Extinct TWST AU

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xomakara · 2 months ago

Text

Love Like This

SUMMARY | You recently moved into this very nice neighborhood with your dog, Goober. When Yeosang and his daughter introduce themselves to you, his daughter falls in love with Goober right away. As you spend more time with your neighbors, you realize that you have fallen in love.

PAIRINGS | Yeosang x Reader

RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE | smut, fluff, Dad!Yeosang, dogmom!Reader, non-idol au

CONTENT/WARNINGS | unprotected sex (wrap it up ya’ll!), oral sex (male giving/female receiving), fingering, slight dirty talk, praise kink, vaginal penetration, lovemaking

LENGTH | 6,629 words

TAGLIST | ---

NETWORKS | @illusionnet @cromernet @k-vanity @ksmutsociety @othersideoutlawsnetwork

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Back with another fic for the Dadteez series. As always, you'll see some recurring characters haha. This is much more on the sensual and lovemaking side of things but I hope you all enjoy it. Love you ❤️

The doorbell rang, and your heart skipped a beat. Who could it be? You weren’t expecting anyone, but the sound of tiny footsteps and muffled giggles outside made you pause. You glanced toward Goober, sprawled out on the living room floor, his massive frame taking up more space than he probably should. His head perked up at the noise, ears twitching as if sensing something was about to happen.

“Stay, boy,” you whispered, grabbing his leash just in case. He whined softly, tail thumping against the floor, clearly eager to investigate.

You opened the door cautiously, and there they were—your new neighbors. A man stood tall, with a warm smile that seemed to light up the porch, and a little girl clinging to his hand, her eyes wide with curiosity. The man introduced himself first, his voice calm and friendly. “Hi, I’m Yeosang, and this is my daughter, Yeonwoo. We’re your neighbors next door. Thought we’d stop by and say hello and welcome you to the neighborhood.”

Yeonwoo peeked out from behind her dad, her round cheeks puffing slightly as she smiled. Her gaze darted past you, locking onto something inside your house. You followed her line of sight and saw Goober, who had decided now was the perfect time to lumber over, his big paws making soft thuds on the wooden floor. His tail wagged slowly at first, then picked up speed as he approached the door.

Yeosang’s expression tightened for a split second, clearly wary of the giant Doberman. But Yeonwoo? She didn’t even hesitate.

“Doggy!” she squealed, pulling free from her dad’s grip and darting forward, her little hands outstretched.

“Wait!” you called out, reaching for her instinctively. “He’s… uh, he’s friendly, but—”

But she wasn’t listening. She was already kneeling in front of Goober, her tiny fingers landing gently on his broad chest. The dog froze for a moment, his dark eyes blinking down at her curiously, then let out a soft huff as his tail starts wagging again, this time like a metronome gone wild.

“Good doggy,” Yeonwoo cooed, patting his fur with all the confidence of someone who had never met a dog they didn’t love.

Goober, ever the people-pleaser, leaned into her touch, his tongue lolling out happily. You couldn’t help but laugh, relief flooding through you. Yeosang, however, looked equal parts amazed and horrified.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, stepping forward to scoop Yeonwoo up. “She doesn’t usually… well, she’s fearless around animals.”

“It’s fine,” you assured him, leaning down to scratch Goober behind the ears. “He’s a big softie at heart. Just looks intimidating.”

Yeosang hesitated, glancing between you and Goober, his brow furrowing slightly. “Yeah, well… he is intimidating. Most dogs his size wouldn’t take too kindly to someone running up to them like that.”

You straightened up, meeting his gaze. “You’re right. I should’ve been more careful.”

Your tone was apologetic, but Yeosang’s attention seemed torn between you and his daughter, who was now trying to squirm her way back to Goober. “It’s okay. No harm done.”

“Daddy, let me down!” she protested, wriggling in his arms. “I wanna play with him!”

“Yeonwoo,” Yeosang said firmly, though his voice softened when he looked down at her. “We don’t just go running up to dogs we don’t know. It’s dangerous.”

Her bottom lip pouted out, and you felt a pang of sympathy.

“Actually,” you said, reaching for Goober’s leash, “he loves kids. And since Yeonwoo’s not afraid of him, maybe we could give it a shot? Safely, of course.”

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed slightly, studying you. There was something in his expression—a mix of caution and interest like he was weighing the pros and cons of letting his guard down. Finally, he sighed, setting Yeonwoo on the ground but keeping a firm hold on her shoulder. “Fine. But if he so much as growls, we’re out of here.”

“Deal,” you nodded, giving him your best reassuring smile. Then, turning to Yeonwoo, you knelt down so you were at eye level with her. “Okay, sweetie, you can pet him, but only if your daddy says it’s okay, alright?”

She nodded eagerly, her eyes sparkling with excitement. “Okay!”

You guided Goober closer, making sure he stayed calm as Yeonwoo reached out again. This time, she kept her movements slow and deliberate, earning a gentle nudge from Goober as if to say ‘Finally, some manners’. Yeosang watched the interaction closely, his body tense but his expression softening as he realized how harmless it was.

“See?” you said, looking up at him. “He’s all bark and no bite.”

“Yeah, well, I think the bark alone could scare off half the neighborhood,” Yeosang chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “I’ve never seen a dog this big except for my friend Jongho’s malamute. He has five energetic kids and you can’t say no to them when they ask for a dog.”

There was a pause, the kind that felt charged with unspoken words. You stood up, brushing off your jeans, and realized just how close you were standing to each other. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, neither of you spoke. The air between you felt thick, almost electric as if the universe itself was nudging you both closer together.

Was he feeling it too?

Yeonwoo’s voice broke the tension. “Can we keep him, Daddy? Please?”

“Not quite how it works, kiddo,” he laughed, ruffling her hair. “Goober belongs to…” He trailed off, glancing at you.

“Me,” you finished for him, offering your hand. “I’m Y/N.”

He took your hand, his grip firm and warm. “Nice to meet you.”

As you shook hands, you couldn’t help but notice how his fingers lingered against yours, just for a fraction longer than necessary. His gaze flicked up to meet yours again, and there it was—that same spark, that same pull.

“So,” he said, his voice low enough that Yeonwoo wouldn’t hear, “care to tell me why a woman living alone with a dog this size isn’t single-handedly terrifying the entire neighborhood?”

You bit back a grin, leaning in just enough so he could hear you. “Maybe because I’m not as scary as he is?”

His lips twitched, a hint of a smirk forming. “Maybe. Or maybe you’re just good at hiding it.”

There was something in his tone—something playful, something challenging. And before you could respond, Yeonwoo tugged on his sleeve. “Daddy, can we come back later and see Goober again? Pleeease?”

Yeosang glanced down at her, then back at you, that smirk still lingering. “Depends. Do you think your dog would mind some company tomorrow?”

You felt your heartbeat quicken, the question hanging in the air like an invitation. “I think Goober would love that.”

Yeosang nodded, his eyes holding yours for a moment longer than they should have. “Then we’ll see you tomorrow.”

As they walked away, Yeonwoo waving wildly, you couldn’t help but replay the interaction in your mind. There was something about Yeosang—his protectiveness, his humor, the way he seemed to balance authority with warmth. And then there was that look, the one that had passed between you, brief but unmistakable.

Goober nudged your hand, drawing you back to the present. You scratched his ear, smiling. “Looks like we’ve got company tomorrow, buddy.”

He barked once, as if in agreement, and you felt a thrill run through you. Something was stirring between you and Yeosang, something undeniable. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

What a great way to start a new life in a new neighborhood.

A few weeks later, the neighborhood buzzed with excitement. Hongjoong, the grill master, had announced a spontaneous barbecue, and the scent of sizzling sausages wafted through the air, mingling with laughter and chatter. You stood at the edge of your yard, Goober by your side, watching as neighbors gathered around the makeshift grill setup in the park across the street.

Yeosang and Yeonwoo were already there, their presence drawing attention. Yeonwoo was running around with Hongjoong’s kids, Hyejin and Hongki, their laughter echoing like music. Yeosang stood nearby, chatting with Hongjoong, his voice carrying easily over the park. His eyes met yours briefly, and you felt that familiar spark, a subtle warmth pooling in your chest.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” Haru, San’s son, called out, his shy smile breaking into a grin as he approached you. “Can Goober play with us?”

You glanced down at your massive Doberman, who wagged his tail eagerly. “I think he’d love that. Just keep an eye on him, okay? He might get a little too excited.”

He nodded vigorously, and before you could say more, he was leading Goober toward the cluster of kids. The children squealed in delight as Goober bounded over, his enthusiasm infectious. Even one of Jongho’s sons, Jongsoo, usually so quiet, couldn’t resist reaching out to pet him.

As you watched them play, Yeosang joined you, his presence grounding yet electric.

“Looks like Goober’s the star of the show,” he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You smirked. “He’s got a knack for that. Kids seem to adore him.”

Yeosang’s gaze lingered on you, something unspoken passing between you. “You’re good with them,” he said quietly. “With him.”

Good with him. The words sent a shiver down your spine, knowing he wasn’t just referring to Goober. You turned to face him, your breath catching slightly at the intensity in his brown eyes.

“Someone has to be,” you replied, your tone light but your heart pounding.

Before either of you could say more, a loud crash interrupted the moment. Everyone turned to see Goober standing near the drinks cooler, which now lay on its side, ice and cans spilling everywhere.

Haru burst out laughing, pointing at the scene. “Goober did it!”

You groaned, rushing over to assess the damage. Goober looked up at you sheepishly, his tail wagging slowly as if hoping to charm his way out of trouble.

“You big goof,” you muttered, ruffling his ears. “What am I going to do with you?”

“Guess we’ll have to team up to fix this,” he said, his voice low and teasing. Yeosang knelt beside you, his hands moving efficiently as he helped pick up the scattered cans.

You glanced at him, caught off guard by the heat in his tone. “Teamwork, huh?”

“Always,” he replied, his eyes sparkling with mischief. “Especially when it involves cleaning up after a charmingly clumsy dog.”

You laughed, the sound bubbling up naturally. “Fine. But if Goober knocks anything else over, you’re helping me explain it to Hongjoong’s wife.”

He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting. “Deal.”

Together, you worked quickly, gathering the scattered drinks and refilling the cooler. The sun beat down on you, and you found yourself glancing at Yeosang often, admiring the way his muscles flexed as he moved. There was something about the way he carried himself—quiet strength tempered by a surprising tenderness. It was captivating, and you felt a pull toward him that was impossible to ignore.

When the last can was in place, Yeosang straightened, wiping his hands on his jeans.

“All set,” he said, turning to you. His eyes held yours, the space between you suddenly charged with tension.

“Thanks,” you murmured, your voice softer than intended. He took a step closer, his proximity sending your pulse racing.

“Anytime,” he said, his voice dropping to a near whisper. Anytime. The word echoed in your mind, fueling the fire that had been smoldering since your first encounter.

Before you could respond, Yeonwoo came running up, tugging on Yeosang’s hand. “Daddy, can we go on the swings? Please?”

He smiled down at her, the transformation immediate and disarming. “Of course, sweetheart. Let’s go.”

As they walked away, Yeonwoo holding his hand and swinging it happily, you watched them, a smile tugging at your lips. Yeosang glanced back at you once, his expression unreadable, but the weight of his gaze lingered, heavy and undeniable.

Goober nudged your hand, drawing you back to the present. You scratched his ear, your thoughts still on Yeosang. “Looks like we’ve got our work cut out for us, buddy.”

He barked once, as if in agreement, and you felt a thrill run through you. Something was stirring between you and Yeosang, something undeniable. And you couldn’t wait to see where it led.

Later, as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the neighborhood, you found yourself sitting by the grill, a plate of food in your hands. Yeosang sat beside you, the two of you sharing an easy conversation. The faint hum of music played in the background, and the sound of children laughing filled the air.

“You know,” Yeosang said, his voice soft, “I haven’t felt this... comfortable in a long time.”

You glanced at him, surprised by his candor. “Really?”

“It’s been just me and Yeonwoo for a while. It’s nice to feel like... part of something again. Thank you,” he said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. He nodded, his gaze focused on the flickering flames of the grill. His eyes met yours, and for a moment, the world seemed to fade away. The air between you crackled with potential, with the promise of something more.

You smiled, a warmth spreading through you. “Anytime.”

As the night deepened, the atmosphere shifted subtly, growing more intimate. The other neighbors began to drift away, leaving you and Yeosang alone by the dying embers of the grill. Yeonwoo was asleep in her stroller, her tiny breaths steady and peaceful.

“This has been... nice,” he said, his voice low and rough. Yeosang leaned back, his arm brushing yours.

“Yeah,” you agreed softly. You turned to him, your heart pounding. “It has.”

A few days later, as the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in hues of orange and purple, you found yourself standing at the doorway of Yeosang’s house. He had invited you over for dinner and you agreed. Your heart was pounding, a mix of anticipation and curiosity swirling within you. The last time you’d been here, it had been casual, neighborly. Tonight felt different, charged with an undercurrent of something far more intimate.

Yeosang opened the door with a smile that made your knees weak. His eyes were warm, and inviting, and there was a playful glint in them that sent a shiver down your spine.

“You came,” he said simply, stepping aside to let you in. His voice was low, almost husky, and it sent a thrill through you.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you replied, trying to keep your tone light even as your stomach fluttered. “Where’s Yeonwoo?”

“She’s at a sleepover that Hongjoong and his wife is hosting,” Yeosang responded. “All the neighborhood kids went.”

You stepped inside, and the scent of something delicious—spices, garlic, rosemary—filled the air. It was comforting, homey, and yet there was an undeniable air of sophistication to it. Yeosang had outdone himself.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” he said, closing the door behind you. His hand brushed against yours briefly, sending a spark of electricity between you. “Just need to finish plating. Make yourself at home.”

He disappeared into the kitchen, and you took a moment to glance around. The living room was cozy, with soft lighting and a fire crackling in the fireplace. Pictures of Yeonwoo dotted the walls, capturing her in moments of pure joy—running through fields, blowing out birthday candles, clutching Goober in her tiny arms. They were snapshots of a life well-lived, filled with love and laughter. It made your chest ache in the best way.

“Here we go,” Yeosang said, emerging from the kitchen carrying two plates. He set them down on the coffee table in front of the couch, then gestured for you to sit. “I hope you like Italian. I figured it was a safe bet.”

You sat down, your gaze drawn to the plate in front of you. The pasta looked perfect, the sauce glistening, the herbs sprinkled just so.

“It looks amazing,” you said, picking up your fork. “And yeah, Italian’s always a safe bet.”

Yeosang sat beside you, his thigh brushing against yours as he reached for his fork. “Good. I wasn’t sure if I should go fancy or keep it simple. But...well, I wanted tonight to be special.”

Your breath caught at the sincerity in his voice. There was something raw, unguarded, about the way he spoke. It made you want to lean closer, to press your lips to his and see if he tasted as good as the food smelled. Instead, you settled for taking a bite of the pasta. It was rich, flavorful, and utterly delicious.

“Yeosang, this is incredible,” you said, genuinely impressed. “You’ve got skills.”

He chuckled, a deep, rumbling sound that made your pulse quicken. “Thanks. Cooking is kind of my therapy. When Yeonwoo was younger, I spent a lot of nights in the kitchen, figuring things out. Got pretty good at it.”

A pang of sympathy hit you. You couldn’t imagine what it must have been like for him, raising a child alone, and navigating the challenges of parenthood without a partner. But somehow, he’d done it. And now, here he was, sitting beside you, looking completely at ease. It was both admirable and incredibly attractive.

As you ate, the conversation flowed effortlessly. He told you stories about Yeonwoo’s antics, the time she’d convinced him to dress up as a pirate for her school play, the night she’d snuck into his room and climbed into bed with him because of a thunderstorm. You laughed, your heart swelling with affection for the little girl who’d already stolen your heart.

“She’s something else,” you said when he finished recounting the story of Yeonwoo convincing him to bake cupcakes for her class. “I can’t believe you went along with all that.”

He grinned, leaning back against the couch. “What can I say? She’s got me wrapped around her little finger. Always has.”

You studied his face as he spoke, the way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled, the faint stubble on his jaw catching the light. There was a vulnerability to him, a softness that he rarely let show. But tonight, he seemed more open, more willing to let his guard down. And you couldn’t help but feel like this was a turning point, a moment where everything could change.

When dinner was over, Yeosang cleared the plates and returned with two glasses of wine. He handed one to you, his fingers brushing against yours again.

“To new beginnings,” he said, raising his glass.

You clink your glass against his, your eyes meeting his over the rim.

“To new beginnings,” you echoed, your voice soft.

The atmosphere shifted subtly after that. The fire crackled in the hearth, the room bathed in golden light, and the tension between you grew thicker, and heavier. Yeosang leaned back against the couch, his arm resting casually along the backrest behind you. You could feel the heat of him, the subtle weight of his presence.

“So,” he said, his voice low, “tell me something I don’t know about you.”

“Something you don’t know?” you repeated, thinking. You shifted slightly, the movement bringing your body closer to his. “Hmm. I guess most people don’t know that I used to take fencing classes when I was a kid.”

His eyebrows shot up. “Fencing? Really?”

You nodded, smiling. “Yeah. My dad thought it would be a good way to build discipline. Turned out I liked it. Even won a few competitions before I quit.”

He studied you, his expression thoughtful. “That explains why you walk like you’ve got a sword strapped to your side.”

“Excuse me?” you said, laughing. “I do not walk like that.”

“No?” he teased, his mouth curving into a sly grin. “Because you carry yourself like someone who knows how to handle herself.”

The compliment sent a warm flush through you, mingling with the wine and the firelight. You didn’t know what to say, so you stayed silent, letting the moment stretch between you. Yeosang’s gaze dropped to your lips, and suddenly the air was thick with unspoken words, unsaid promises.

Without thinking, you turned toward him, your body angled slightly, your knee brushing against his.

“Yeosang,” you murmured, your voice barely above a whisper.

He swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he stared at you. “Yeah?”

You leaned in, your heart pounding in your chest.

“I think...” you started, then paused, unsure of how to finish the sentence. But before you could figure it out, he moved, closing the distance between you.

His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though testing the waters. But then you kissed him back, and the hesitation melted away. His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb tracing the curve of your jaw as his lips moved against yours. The kiss was slow and deliberate, each touch sending waves of desire crashing through you.

You slid your hand up his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your palm. He groaned softly, deepening the kiss, his tongue sweeping against yours in a languid, intoxicating rhythm. The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you, lost in the sensation of each other.

When you finally broke apart, both of you were breathing heavily, your chests rising and falling in sync. Yeosang pressed his forehead against yours, his eyes closed, his voice strained.

“God, you’re incredible,” he muttered, his fingers tracing the curve of your neck. You felt dazed, the kiss lingering on your lips like a memory.

“Yeosang,” you whispered, your voice trembling slightly. He pulled back, his dark eyes searching yours.

“Do you trust me?” he asked, his voice low, intense.

You hesitated, caught off guard by the question. But then you nodded, a small smile playing on your lips. “Yeah. I do.”

With that, he stood, pulling you to your feet. “Then come with me.”

Yeosang’s grip on your hand was firm, yet gentle, as he led you through the dimly lit hallway of his home. The air between you was charged with an electric tension, every step drawing you closer to the unknown. His house felt different at this hour, quieter, more intimate, as if the walls themselves were holding their breath.

The faint glow of a lamp spilled into the hallway from his bedroom, casting soft shadows that danced across the floor. Every detail seemed intentional, from the neatly folded jacket resting on the chair to the book left open on the nightstand. It was a space that spoke of him, a man who carried himself with quiet strength but also harbored a tenderness that only those closest to him would ever see.

You couldn’t help but feel a shiver of anticipation run down your spine.

“This is me,” he said softly, his deep voice resonating in the stillness. His thumb brushed against the back of your hand in a subtle, reassuring gesture. Without waiting for your response, he pushed the door open wider and stepped inside, pulling you along with him.

The room enveloped you in warmth, the scent of cedar and smoke wrapping around you like a whispered promise. The bed, large and inviting, stood at the center, its crisp linens and plush comforter seeming to beckon you both. Yeosang closed the door behind you, the click of the latch echoing faintly in the quiet room.

For a moment, there was silence. The world outside ceased to exist. It was just the two of you, standing face to face, the space between you narrowing with each passing second.

He lifted his hand, his fingers brushing a strand of hair away from your face. His touch was feather-light, yet it sent a jolt of awareness through you.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his eyes tracing your features with an intensity that made your heartbeat quicken.

You swallowed hard, feeling the weight of his gaze.

“So are you,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper. A small, almost imperceptible smile tugged at the corners of his lips.

“I wasn’t sure how this would go,” he admitted, his voice low. “But being near you… it feels right.”

You nodded, unable to find the words to respond. The truth was, you felt it too. That inexplicable pull, the way he made you feel safe even as your pulse raced with excitement.

Without another word, he stepped closer, his body aligning with yours. The heat of him radiated against your skin, sending shivers cascading down your spine. His hands moved to your shoulders, sliding down your arms before gripping your wrists lightly. It was a tender hold, one that spoke of restraint and care.

“Let me take care of you,” he said, his voice husky now, laced with desire.

You nodded again, unable to resist the magnetic pull of his request.

With slow, deliberate movements, he began to undress you. First, his fingers found the button of your blouse, easing it free with practiced ease. The fabric parted, revealing the delicate lace of your bra beneath. He slid the blouse off your shoulders, letting it fall to the floor at your feet.

Next came the clasp of your jeans, his fingers fumbling slightly as the tension between you grew. Once undone, he slowly peeled them down your legs, leaving you in only your panties and bra.

You stood there, exposed and vulnerable under his intense gaze.

“You’re perfect,” he whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Before you could respond, his hands returned to your body, this time skimming over your hips and settling on your waist. His touch was electrifying, sending waves of heat coursing through you.

“Yeosang,” you breathed, your voice trembling.

He didn’t answer, his focus entirely on the task at hand.

His hands moved to the straps of your bra, gently peeling them down your arms until they pooled at your elbows. With a deft motion, he unclasped the garment, letting it fall to the floor. Your heart pounded in your chest as he took a step back, his eyes raking over your naked form.

“You’re so beautiful,” he repeated, his voice barely audible.

Then, without warning, he leaned in, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. His tongue pressed against yours, igniting a fire that consumed you whole. You melted against him, your arms wrapping around his neck as his hands roamed over your back, pulling you flush against his hard, defined frame.

The world dissolved into sensation, every nerve ending alive and pulsating with need. His hands moved lower, cupping your ass and lifting you slightly as he deepened the kiss.

You moaned into his mouth, your head spinning with desire.

Suddenly, he pulled back, his breathing ragged.

“Bed,” he growled, his voice commanding yet filled with urgency.

Without hesitation, he picked you up and laid you down on the plush comforter, his body following soon after. His lips found yours again, their kisses frantic now, desperate.

You reached down, fumbling with the button of his jeans. He caught your hand, pinning it above your head.

“Not yet,” he whispered, his voice raw with need.

Instead, his mouth trailed down your neck, his teeth grazing the sensitive skin as his hands roamed over your body. You arched into his touch, your breath hitching as he nipped softly at the curve of your shoulder.

“Yeosang,” you gasped, your thighs trembling with longing.

He shifted his position, his knee nudging between your legs.

“Tell me what you want,” he demanded, his voice hoarse.

You hesitated, your mind reeling.

Before you could answer, he surged forward, his hardness pressing against your core through the thin fabric of your underwear.

Yeosang’s fingers traced the curve of your waist, his touch lingering for just a moment longer than necessary. His gaze dropped to your panties, the thin fabric barely concealing the heat building between your thighs. His breath hitched, and you could feel the tension in his body, a coil ready to snap.

“Let me see you,” he murmured, his voice low and rough. The words were soft, but they carried weight, pulling you deeper into the moment.

You nodded, your throat dry, and lifted your hips slightly as he slid his hand beneath the waistband of your underwear. The fabric caught on your skin for a brief second before it was gone, tossed aside without a thought. Yeosang’s eyes darkened as he took in the sight of you, unfiltered and exposed. His fingers brushed against your bare skin, featherlight at first, then more deliberate as he explored the contours of your body.

His breath was hot against your thigh as he leaned closer, his lips ghosting over your flesh. He inhaled deeply as if he could taste you in the air, and his fingers trailed lower, pausing just above the apex of your thighs. You shifted beneath him, your body arching instinctively toward his touch, and he responded with a slow, steady pressure that made your breath catch in your throat.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his voice thick with desire. The words seemed to echo in the quiet room, filling the space between you with a raw, pulsating energy.

He pushed your legs apart gently, his hands firm but careful, and settled between them. His fingers toyed with the sensitive skin there, teasing and testing, until you whimpered, lost in the sensation. He looked up at you then, his brown eyes intense, almost predatory, and you felt a shiver run down your spine.

“Do you like that?” he asked, his voice dripping with intent. His fingers pressed harder, circling rhythmically, and you couldn’t stop yourself from moaning softly.

“Yes,” you breathed, your voice barely audible. The word slipped out before you could think, a surrender to the overwhelming pleasure coursing through you.

Yeosang smirked, a hint of triumph softening his expression.

“Good,” he said, his tone laced with satisfaction. He bent his head lower, his lips brushing against the inside of your thigh, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake. The sensation sent a jolt of electricity through you, pooling low in your stomach.

His tongue flicked out then, tasting you for the first time, and you cried out, gripping the sheets beneath you. His name tumbled from your lips in a breathless plea, but he ignored it, too focused on his task. His tongue moved with precision, tracing patterns against your most intimate flesh, and every flick, every swipe, brought you closer to the edge.

You were shaking now, your body taut with need, and Yeosang knew exactly what you needed. He teased the bundle of nerves with his fingers while his tongue worked its magic, alternating between gentle licks and firmer strokes that sent waves of pleasure crashing over you. Your hips bucked involuntarily, chasing the sensation, and he gripped your thighs to hold you still.

“Yeosang…” you moaned, your voice breaking as the tension coiled tighter and tighter within you.

He glanced up at you, his eyes gleaming with intensity.

“Almost there,” he promised, his voice rough with exertion. He returned his attention to you, his movements growing more urgent, and you felt the walls inside you tighten, preparing to give way.

The pleasure rose higher, cresting like a wave, and with a final, desperate cry, you shattered. Your body convulsed around his fingers, your muscles clenching uncontrollably as the orgasm swept through you. Yeosang didn’t stop, didn’t let up, riding the wave with you until the tremors subsided and you lay spent, gasping for air.

He pulled away slowly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watched you. His lips were swollen, stained with your arousal, and his dark hair fell messily across his forehead. You reached out, your fingers threading through the strands, and drew him down for a kiss. It was messy, passionate, and utterly consuming, a reflection of the explosive intimacy you had just shared.

When he pulled back, he rested his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours. He started to strip his clothes, throwing them haphazardly across the room.

“I want to make you feel that way again,” he murmured, his voice low and husky. “But not yet. I have something else in mind.”

You blinked up at him, unsure of what he meant, but before you could ask, he rolled onto his back, tugging you with him. You straddled his hips, your legs trembling slightly as you settled into place. Yeosang’s hands glided up your sides, cupping your breasts, and his thumbs brushed your nipples, sending sparks of sensation rippling outward.

“Tell me what you want,” he repeated, his voice commanding this time. “And this time, don’t hold back.”

You looked down at him, his dark eyes locked onto yours, and felt a surge of boldness.

“I want you inside me,” you said, the words coming out stronger than you expected. “Now.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear,” he growled, flipping you onto your back once more. He positioned himself between your legs, his hardness pressing against you, and you gasped as he pushed into you with one smooth thrust.

The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of fullness and heat that left you clinging to him for balance. Yeosang paused, giving you a moment to adjust, before pulling out and thrusting back in, his movements deliberate and controlled.

You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him on, and he obliged, picking up the pace. His thrusts grew deeper, more forceful, each one rocking your body in tandem with his. Your breaths came in short, sharp bursts, merging with his groans as the sound of flesh meeting flesh filled the room.

“Yeosang,” you whispered, your voice broken and pleading. “Don’t stop. Please…”

He drove into you harder, his hands pinning your wrists above your head. “Never,” he growled, his teeth bared in a feral grin. “Not until you’ve had enough.”

Your body tightened around him, signaling the beginnings of another climax, and Yeosang sensed it, pushing you over the edge with brutal efficiency. You screamed his name as pleasure tore through you, your nails digging into his back as he followed shortly after, his release marking the end of your mutual frenzy.

For a moment, there was nothing but stillness, save for the sound of your labored breathing. Yeosang collapsed beside you, his chest heaving, and you turned to face him, your fingers tracing the curve of his jaw.

“Again?” he asked, his voice a teasing challenge.

You leaned in, capturing his lips with yours. “Only if you can keep up.”

The months that followed were a blur of passion, laughter, and quiet moments shared with Yeosang. Each night, you found yourself in his arms, the two of you tangled together in a mess of sheets and promises. But it wasn’t just about the heat between you—it was the way he looked at you, the way his touch made you feel seen and cherished. You loved him, and you wanted Yeonwoo to see that love reflected in both of your eyes.

It was a sunny afternoon when the three of you sat together on the porch. Yeonwoo was sprawled on the floor, her tiny hands happily petting Goober, who lay beside her with his tongue lolling out in pure bliss. Yeosang sat next to you, his arm draped casually around your shoulders as he watched his daughter play. The moment felt perfect like it had been crafted just for you.

“Yeonwoo,” Yeosang began, his voice calm but deliberate. His deep brown eyes shifted from his daughter to you, then back again. “We need to talk to you about something important.”

Yeonwoo paused mid-pet, her wide, innocent eyes lifting to meet her father’s. She blinked, waiting, her stuffed rabbit clutched tightly against her chest.

You took a deep breath, reaching out to squeeze Yeosang’s hand.

“Sweetie,” you said gently, your voice soft but steady. “Your daddy and I… we love each other. We’ve talked about it, and we want to be a family. Together. Just the three of us.”

Yeonwoo’s eyes widened further, her tiny mouth forming an “O” of surprise. For a moment, she didn’t say anything, her gaze darting between you and her father before landing on Goober, who panted happily beside her. Then, with a sudden burst of energy, she scrambled to her feet and threw herself at Goober, hugging the dog tightly.

“That means you’ll stay with us forever, right?” she asked, her voice tinged with excitement. “You’ll be my new mommy? And Goober can be my pet?”

You glanced at Yeosang, your heart swelling at the sincerity in her question. He gave you a small, reassuring smile before nodding. “Yes, sweetheart. That’s exactly what it means.”

Yeonwoo squealed, burying her face in Goober’s fur. The dog, ever the gentle giant, let out a happy bark and wagged his tail furiously, clearly enjoying the attention. You laughed, your cheeks warm with emotion, and Yeosang pulled you closer, pressing a tender kiss to your temple.

“Thank you,” he murmured, his breath brushing against your hair. “For making this easy for her.”

You turned your head slightly, meeting his gaze.

“She’s not the only one who’s happy about this,” you replied, your voice teasing but laced with genuine affection. “I think I’ve wanted this just as much as she has.”

Yeosang’s lips curved into a smug grin, his dark eyes glinting with mischief.

“Oh, really?” he teased, his hand sliding down to rest on your thigh. “Want to prove it?”

Before you could answer, Yeonwoo chimed in, her little voice interrupting the moment. “Daddy, can we go to the park tomorrow? Please? It’s been ages since we played on the swings!”

Yeosang chuckled, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Of course, princess. As long as your new mommy agrees.”

Your cheeks flushed at the title, but you nodded quickly, unable to suppress a smile. “I’d love to. We’ll make it a family outing.”

Yeonwoo clapped her hands, her laughter ringing out like music. “Yay! Goober can come too!”

“Goober would never forgive us if we left him behind,” you agreed, laughing along with her.

As the sun dipped lower in the sky, casting a golden glow over the yard, Yeosang stood up and offered you a hand.

“Come on,” he said, his voice low and inviting. “Let’s take these two inside. They’re going to get cold out here.”

You accepted his hand, letting him pull you to your feet. Yeonwoo grabbed her stuffed rabbit and Goober’s leash, already plotting their evening routine. The four of you walked into the house, the warmth of the day lingering in the air around you.

Once inside, Yeosang led you toward the kitchen, his fingers intertwined with yours.

“Have I told you how amazing you are?” he asked suddenly, his tone serious but his eyes sparkling with amusement.

You raised an eyebrow, leaning into him slightly. “Not recently, no. What brought this on?”

“Just thinking about how lucky I am,” he admitted, his voice dropping to a whisper. “You’ve made me a better man. A better father. I don’t know what I did to deserve you, but I’m never letting you go.”

Your breath hitched, your heart skipping a beat at his words.

“Yeosang…” you began, but he silenced you with a finger to your lips.

“Don’t say anything,” he instructed, his voice firm but gentle. “Just let me enjoy the moment.”

You nodded silently, your chest tight with emotion. Yeosang leaned down, capturing your lips in a slow, sweet kiss that sent a jolt of electricity through your body. When he pulled away, his gaze lingered on yours, hot and intense.

“I love you,” he says.

“I love you too,” you respond back, happy that you have a love like this.

#illusionnet #cromernet #kvanity #other side outlaws network #ksmutsociety #ateez #ateez scenarios #ateez stories #ateez fanfics #ateez imagines #ateez smut #ateez yeosang #yeosang #kang yeosang #yeosang smut #yeosang x reader

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morverenmaybewrites · 5 months ago

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The Pizza Delivery Girl's Survival Guide to Gotham City Update

Pairing: Jason Todd x Reader

Newest chapter

AO3 Link

Summary:

People who lived outside of Gotham City would most often think of it in terms of its heroes and villains. About Batman and Robin, Joker and Harley Quinn.

People who actually live in Gotham City would only think of one thing: surviving.

Who cares about the people in costumes when your house has been bombed for the fifth time, or your wife has been taken hostage just because she worked in a bank?

Or, in your case, when you have to make regular deliveries to places where even Batman feared to tread?

Because let's face it. In a world full of superheroes and costumed villains, the real heroes are the ones who make sure that people get their pizzas in forty-five minutes or less.

Chapter Preview:

You paused on the bridge that hung high above the Burrow, and for the first time in your life, you felt a terror was so great that it made your throat close.

Gotham City had never looked so beautiful. From such a height, the burning neon lights looked like stars.

But above your head, the sky looked pitch black. It made you think of the bodies that would sometimes wash up on Gotham Bay’s shores, black and bloated with rot. It made you think of the shadows of inmates in the asylum, their voices like the skittering of insects, rising and falling as you passed them by.

It made you think of the night Timothy Young died, and you wondered that if, back then, there had been light enough that he saw the shadow of a monster fall over him.

You wondered if he had time to understand what was happening, before he started against the concrete below. And then decided decided that it didn’t matter: you would understand If Francine Langstrom came for you, you would know.

You would understand what was happening to you before you hit the ground.

Your skull splitting open, the pink-grey ropes of your brain scattering on the concrete. And the thousand pictures that follow. Your death turned into a spectacle and a profit.

Just like Tim Young’s.

The thought made you freeze. You were standing in front of one of the many wooden bridges that connected the rooftops of abandoned buildings. The Burrow’s infamous floating night market. Set up by dusk and torn down by dawn, only to rise up again the next night, the floating night market was one of the Burrow’s main attractions. A bustling collection of kiosks made out of cheap plywood and tarpaulin, it was said that you could find anything there, so long as you didn’t ask too many questions: cheap phones, likely stolen from someone off the street, fake licenses, a sample of Bane’s Venom for impatient bodybuilders. It was set high up in the air, amidst the rooftops of many abandoned buildings, connected by a series of rickety wooden bridges.

But now the rooftops were empty. The bridges were falling apart, its wooden planks dangling precariously from their ropes. The empty kiosks had been left to rot in the constant rain. You could even see some of the abandoned merchandise, left behind in people’s haste to pack up: an old, broken phone, children’s toys hanging forlornly on strings, obviously meant to be prizes in a game, now swelling with rainwater. Mold grew on their cotton bodies like new fur.

Timothy Young’s death had transformed the Burrows’ floating night market into a ghost town. The thought made you feel a little lonely, picking through the bones of a dead market, looking to find a monster.

Francine, The voice in your head sounded like Professor Langstrom’s. Her name is Francine Langstrom.

The buzz of static cut through your thoughts as cleanly as a falling blade. And then Jason’s voice was in your ear.

“Last chance to back out of this.”

His voice was rough, even taking into account the poor connection and the voice modulators he used. Maybe he was scared, too. The thought eased you somewhat, to know that you were not alone.

Even through the poor connection, you could hear the strain in his voice. You cast a glance at the direction where he was supposed to be, tried to look for even a hint of him: the faint glow of his helmet, the hulking figure of his silhouette. But you found no sign of him. Still, knowing that he was there made you feel better.

You raised a hand and hoped that he would not see the way your fingers trembled.

And waved.

Read more on AO3

#jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #dc x reader #jason todd #red hood #arkham knight #the pizza delivery girl's survival guide to gotham city

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qwimblenorrisstan · 4 months ago

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Bloody Cuddles | Cassian x Reader

Day 16: No one else to Turn to w/ Cassian

Summary: Cassian has no where else to go except to you when he shows up at your door in the middle of the night, beaten and bloodied.

Word Count: ~1.2k

Warnings: blood, bruises, mentions of swords, stitches, partially naked man, cuddling

A/N: honestly idk what’s happening in this one, hope you enjoy<3

Requests are open!

It was past midnight when he showed up.

You’d already changed into a t-shirt and shorts, sleeping clothes in your opinion, dishes, and laundry done and put up, stomach full of what you’d had for dinner, house warm and cozy, fending off the chill of Autumn Court that tended to roll in during the night. Your magic usually helped keep you warm, anyway.

You’d been just about to crawl into bed when a heavy knock on your door sounded, your dog jolting to his feet, slim ears perked up as he let out a low growl.

“Quiet,”

You murmured, hand smoothing over his short, silky fur, trying to soothe him as you walked over to the door, opening it half an inch and peeking out, trying to slam it shut when you saw who it was.

His gloved hand, bloodied gloved hand, slid between the crack, not letting the door shut. He didn’t even grunt when it slammed down on his palm, siphon not flickering a bit as it was also squished between the wooden door and doorframe.

Your dog growled, clearly not happy with the Illyrian behind the door, or the way your scent soured.

Just as you were about to hiss out for him to leave, he spoke.

“Look, I don't want to be here, I just don’t have anywhere else to go. One night. That’s all I'm asking for.”

Something in his voice struck a chord in you. Maybe it was the gravelly tone carrying the weight of exhaustion and something else, something further, or maybe it was just the way he wasn’t teasing or prodding you like usual. Still, you would have fun with this.

“Why? Did your precious Inner Circle finally grow bored of you?”

You taunted, waiting for the usual snapback, expecting him to at least try to insult you or your family. Anything, really, other than the heavy sigh you heard from the other side of the door.

“I fucked up. Bad.”

His voice was rough with emotion, growing thicker with each word. He sounded vaguely like he was about to cry.

You glanced down at your dog. He’d stopped growling. You and the animal shared a long glance before he huffed and walked off to curl up in his bed. He’d made up his mind, you supposed.

You opened the door, and there he was.

He was still in his fighting leathers, looking torn up. Forming bruises coated his body, some turning purple and yellow, a few even green, while blood coated his knuckles and drooped from his nose, eyes bloodshot and flickering from exhaustion. Every breath sounded wheezy and more like he was about to heave.

His eyes looked vacant.

You scowled, but the little gleam of worry in your eye was unmistakable as you stepped back, letting him in. As soon as he was in, he walked over to the kitchen and collapsed into a chair, looking like he was about to fall asleep.

“Oh, no you don’t. You’re getting blood all over my kitchen.”

You hissed, and he gave you a flat look.

“I don’t care.”

He replied, and you huffed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him over to the bathroom, except for the fact that he refused to move, simply sitting in the chair while you pulled your hardest. After a few moments of watching you, he finally took mercy on you, getting up and stumbling over to your small bathroom, collapsing onto the toilet.

You pulled out a little emergency first-aid kit from under the sink that hadn’t been used in at least a century, popping it open, before grabbing a towel from the cabinet and wetting it, raising a brow at Cassian while he sat motionless on the toilet seat.

“What?”

He asked, and you gave him a look that was questioning his intelligence.

“To clean your injuries, I’m going to need to see them.”

You spoke slowly as if talking to a small child, and he exhaled through his nose, clearly annoyed, but he shifted and pulled his shirt off regardless, pants following, leaving him in just a pair of boxers.

You tried not to let your gaze wander as you pressed the damp section of the towel to a large slice across his abdomen, one that would probably require stitches, even with his Illyrian healing. It was a wound from a sword, clearly.

“Who’d you piss off to get this?”

You asked, keeping your tone purposefully detached, almost bored. He only grunted, probably in discomfort, as you padded the blood away.

“Rhys.”

He eventually admitted, and you let out a snort at that, placing the towel aside and picking up the needle and thread from the first-aid kit, threading the eye of the needle while replying.

“I’m guessing you did something to Feyre?”

He stiffened slightly as you let the needle puncture his skin, beginning the stitches, but didn’t reply. It seemed he was done talking about it. You would probably just pester him more in the morning when he was in a better mood and get it all out of him then, anyway.

A few quiet minutes later, and the stitching was done, the bloody towel being thrown into the bathtub as you closed the kit, putting it back under the sink where it stayed.

He went to grab his leathers, presumably to put them back on, when you shook your head, swatting the clothing out of his hands into the bathtub as well. It could be washed later. Not now, when it was too late into the night anyway.

“You can sleep in the guest bedroom.”

You said blandly, walking over to your bedroom, not bothering to give him any directions as you slid into your bed, pulling the cold blankets over you, palms warming with a spark of magic as the room’s temperature increased within mere moments.

You closed your eyes and were out like a light.

It must’ve been hours later when you woke up, the sun still not peeking out from your blinds, the night sky still twinkling.

You tried to turn, the spot where your head was laid a bit too warm for your taste, only to realize that you couldn’t move. Mainly because of a pair of warm arms wrapped around you. And the owner of those arms dozing off while wrapped around you, limbs entangled.

You huffed in annoyance, trying to push him off, only for him to grumble and let out a sleepy grunt.

“Get off-!”

You half whispered, half yelled, and he grunted again.

“G’ back to sleep.”

He mumbled, eyes screwing shut until his body relaxed again, and he was out like a light.

And so you were stuck with a big Illyrian oaf cuddling you in the middle of the night.

As you sighed, slowly settling and drifting back off to sleep, you couldn’t help but think that maybe, just maybe, this wasn’t so bad.

Tags:

@hawke1917

@angstober

@fourthwing4ever

#writers on tumblr #acotar fanfiction #acotar fandom #acotar x reader #acotar fluff #cassian x you #cassian x y/n #cassian x reader #cassian acotar #Cassian angst #angst to comfort #angstober 2024 #angstober

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novaursa · 2 months ago

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The North Remembers Her (the vow)

- Summary: He captured you, but you will not allow him to break you.

- Pairing: stark!reader/Ramsay Bolton

- Rating: Explicit 18+ (for blood, gore, death and Ramsay being himself)

- Previous part: 1

- Next part: the bride

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround

The sound of iron gates creaking open grates against your ears, a cruel symphony that sets your teeth on edge. Outside, the wind howls, whipping through the courtyard of the Dreadfort like a restless spirit. You’re being led there—dragged, really—by two guards whose iron grips dig painfully into your arms.

Ramsay had summoned you.

The urgency of it unsettled you more than his usual games. Ramsay doesn’t summon; he commands—a difference made clear by the mocking tones and cruel laughter that usually accompany his orders. But this time, the men came with few words, their faces blank, and something about the way they carried themselves told you it was no jest.

And now, standing in the center of the courtyard, the truth slams into you like a blow.

No.

The chains rattle first, loud and unmistakable, before your eyes find her. Snow, your direwolf—named for the way her fur shimmers white and grey as fresh winter frost—is dragged into view by three men struggling to control her. Her powerful legs are bound, and the weight of the chains pulls her low to the ground, her massive body sprawled awkwardly. Snow’s head is bloodied, one ear torn, and her coat is matted with crimson streaks. Her flanks rise and fall with each shallow, labored breath.

“Snow!” Your voice breaks. You lurch forward, but the guards hold you fast.

Her head jerks at the sound of your voice, her pale golden eyes finding you. There’s a flicker of recognition there—a glimmer of the strength you know she has—but it’s weak, dulled by pain.

“Well, isn’t this touching,” Ramsay’s voice sings, cutting through the cold like a blade. He steps forward from the shadows, hands tucked behind his back, that ever-present grin spread across his pale face. “The little wolf and her pet—reunited at last.”

“You bastard,” you snarl, your voice trembling with rage. “What have you done to her?!”

Ramsay tilts his head, feigning innocence. “I? Nothing.” He walks toward Snow, boots crunching softly against the frost-covered ground. He crouches beside her, reaching out to stroke the matted fur along her flank. “It was my men who caught her. You should be proud, really. She gave them quite the chase. Bit off one man’s fingers, tore another’s face wide open.” He sighs, as though inconvenienced. “But even wolves tire eventually, don’t they?”

“Don’t touch her!” you scream, trying to wrench yourself free of the guards. One of them jerks you back roughly, and you stumble.

Ramsay looks up at you, his smile widening. “Careful, my lady. Wouldn’t want you hurting yourself. Not when there’s so much to celebrate.”

You glare at him, your chest heaving, your nails digging into your palms as you struggle against the rage boiling in your blood. “Let her go.”

“Oh, no,” Ramsay says softly, shaking his head as though you’re a foolish child. He rises to his feet, brushing his hands together. “You’ve caused so much trouble, little wolf. And this beast of yours? She’s worse. A menace. My father wants her dead—flayed, even—but I thought I’d let you see her first.”

Snow’s eyes remain on you. She growls low and deep, a sound that reverberates through the ground despite her injuries. The chains groan as she tries to lift her head, but her strength falters.

“Stop this,” you say through gritted teeth, trying to steady your voice. “You’ve proven your point. She’s beaten.”

Ramsay’s grin falters for just a second, his pale eyes narrowing. “Oh? And what point is that?”

“That you’re a monster,” you snap. “That you’re a coward who plays games with injured animals because it’s the only thing he can beat.”

The words hang in the air like smoke. For a moment, the guards around you stiffen, as though waiting for the explosion. Ramsay’s smile slowly returns, but it’s colder now—deadly.

“Careful,” he murmurs, stepping toward you. His gaze doesn’t leave yours as he draws closer. “You’re brave now, but brave things break just as easily as weak ones. Sometimes more easily.”

He reaches for your chin, gripping it hard enough to make you wince. His face is so close to yours that you can feel his breath.

“Do you want to know what happens next?” he whispers. “I’ll let you decide. Shall I kill her here? Flay her as my father suggested? Or would you rather I let crows eat her corpse?” His smile sharpens. “A proper feast.”

You stare into his eyes, refusing to show fear, though every word he speaks feels like a dagger twisting in your chest.

“You’ll do none of those things,” you hiss. “If you do, I swear by the Old Gods and the New that I will kill you.”

Ramsay laughs softly, releasing your chin with a shove. “You’re so dramatic, little wolf. I’m almost starting to like you.”

He gestures to his men. “Chain her up properly. Let her watch.” He casts a glance at Snow, who growls again, weak but unrelenting. “Maybe seeing her die will make you a bit more… agreeable.”

The guards drag you forward, forcing you to your knees as they bind your hands. You thrash against them, your eyes fixed on Snow. “Stay with me!” you cry desperately. “Hold on, girl. Hold on!”

Snow growls again, louder this time. She bares her teeth despite the blood on her muzzle, a flicker of the wild spirit you know so well. Her gaze doesn’t leave you. She’s telling you something—Stay strong—even though the fight is slowly leaving her body.

You feel Ramsay crouch beside you, his voice a whisper in your ear. “Watch her closely, Stark. Watch her suffer. Because once I’m finished with her…” He pauses, and you can hear the smile in his voice. “We’re playing next.”

The chains rattle again as Snow lets out a sound halfway between a growl and a whimper. A sob catches in your throat, but you swallow it down, forcing yourself to meet her eyes one last time.

Ramsay stands, clapping his hands once. “Shall we begin?”

The cold presses in from all sides, the wind howling through the courtyard like a ghost. Your knees are numb from the frozen stone, but you don’t feel it. All you feel is the pulse of panic and grief coursing through your veins.

Ramsay steps forward, a dagger glinting in his hand.

“Do you see her, little wolf?” he calls softly, his voice sweet with mock sympathy. “She’s suffering. I’m being kind, really. A mercy.”

Your heart pounds painfully, and you tug hard against the ropes binding your wrists. “You don’t know what mercy is.”

Ramsay grins as though your defiance is his favorite song. “Oh, but I do. Mercy is such a lovely thing. It just takes the right touch.”

He crouches beside Snow, the chains clinking as he reaches out to run a hand over her bloodied fur. She flinches, baring her teeth, and a snarl rumbles from deep in her chest—a final act of defiance. Ramsay’s grin widens.

“I like this one,” he muses, turning his head toward you. “So much spirit. Like her mistress.”

“Don’t do this,” you plead, your voice breaking in spite of yourself. “She’s beaten. You’ve won. Let her go.”

Ramsay straightens and steps toward you, tilting his head like a curious predator. “Let her go? And spoil all the fun? No, no, little wolf. That’s not how this ends.”

“You think this is a victory?” you snarl, glaring at him through tears you refuse to let fall. “Killing a half-dead wolf? It only proves what you are—weak. A coward.”

His eyes flash with something sharp, but the smirk doesn’t leave his face. Instead, he kneels by Snow again, taking her blood-matted fur in his hand and twisting, forcing her head down against the stone.

“Then let’s see how cowardly I am.”

“*Ramsay!” you scream, fighting against the guards’ hold. “No! NO!”

But your screams mean nothing. In one smooth, practiced motion, Ramsay raises the dagger and drives it into Snow’s chest.

She lets out a sound that’s halfway between a whimper and a snarl, a sound that cuts through your heart like ice. Her body jerks once, then falls still. The chains clatter as they go slack.

It’s over.

The world blurs around you, the edges of your vision swimming with tears as you stare at her still form. Snow—your shadow, your protector, your last connection to the wild and free North—lies dead before you.

Ramsay rises slowly, blood dripping from his dagger onto the stone. He wipes the blade clean against his sleeve and turns back to you, grinning like a child who’s smashed his favorite toy. “There. Isn’t that better?”

You don’t answer. You can’t. The grief chokes you, tangling in your chest, and for the first time, you allow the tears to fall.

Ramsay steps closer, crouching so that his face is level with yours. His pale blue eyes glitter with amusement as he tilts his head, studying you like some broken thing.

“You know,” he says softly, “I’ve heard wolves are loyal creatures. Fierce, too. But in the end…” He gestures back toward Snow’s lifeless body with his bloodied blade. “They’re just animals.”

You lift your head slowly, your vision narrowing on him. Something dark burns inside you—deeper than rage, colder than grief. The words leave your mouth before you can stop them, clear and calm, like an oath whispered to the Old Gods themselves.

“I’ll kill you.”

Ramsay’s smirk falters just slightly. “What was that?”

“I’ll kill you,” you repeat, your voice steady now. “On our wedding night, I’ll slit your throat and watch the life drain from your eyes.”

The guards around you go still. Even Ramsay’s hounds, watching from the shadows, fall silent. The wind whips through the courtyard, but it feels like the world has stilled.

Ramsay blinks once, then twice. For a moment, there’s no sound but the howl of the wind. Then he laughs.

It’s soft at first—a low, almost disbelieving chuckle—but it grows louder and louder until it echoes through the courtyard. He throws his head back, his whole body shaking with it, as though you’ve said the most amusing thing in the world.

“Oh, you’re perfect,” he breathes, wiping at the corner of his eye as though he’s wiping away a tear. “I *knew there was a reason I liked you.”

“I mean it,” you say, your voice hard as iron. “One day—soon—I’ll make you pay for this.”

Ramsay stops laughing, though the smile remains firmly in place. He leans in close. “I look forward to it, my little wolf.”

His grin sharpens, cruel and predatory. “It’ll make the wedding night so much more exciting.”

He straightens and steps back, leaving you kneeling in the snow as he turns to his guards. “Take her inside. She’ll need to be… rested for the big day.”

They drag you up, but you don’t resist. Your eyes remain fixed on Snow, her lifeless body still sprawled where Ramsay left her. You hold that image—burn it into your memory—because it fuels the fire inside you.

As they pull you toward the keep, Ramsay’s voice follows you, light and mocking.

“Don’t worry, little wolf. We’ll make a fine pair.”

You don’t look back at him. You don’t speak.

You only swear to yourself, again and again, that you will keep your promise. One day, Ramsay Bolton will bleed.

And the last thing he’ll ever see will be you.

The stone chamber they’d shoved you into was cold, damp, and dark—no fire burned in the small hearth, and the single window let in nothing but a miserable trickle of pale grey light. The Dreadfort was a place of misery, and you could feel it in the walls, in the air itself.

Days had blurred together since Snow’s death, and time was meaningless here. The only thing that marked its passage was the sound of the door creaking open and slamming shut when Reek brought you meals.

You hear the familiar sound now—the shuffling of footsteps outside your door, followed by the low groan of iron hinges as it swings open. You don’t lift your head at first, staring instead at the stone floor beneath you.

“Put it there,” you say flatly. It’s what you always say, and Reek always obeys.

His footsteps are light, hesitant, as though he’s afraid of making noise. He places the tray down on the small table in the corner, the dull clink of the cup and bowl echoing through the silence. You hear him move back toward the door, but still, he refuses to speak or meet your eyes.

“Reek,” you say suddenly, your voice cutting through the quiet. The name feels sour on your tongue.

The footsteps stop.

For a moment, there’s nothing but the sound of your own breathing. You turn your head slowly, looking at him. He’s standing by the door, his thin shoulders hunched, his head bowed low. The once-proud Theon Greyjoy, the boy who grew up with you in Winterfell, is gone. What’s left is a broken creature of Ramsay’s making. His clothes hang loose on his frail frame, and his greasy hair hides most of his face.

“Does time truly mend all wounds?” you ask, bitterness lacing your tone.

He flinches. His thin hands twitch at his sides, but he doesn’t move.

You take a slow breath, forcing yourself to sound calm even though anger and grief simmer beneath your skin. “Do you remember the pond? Behind Winterfell?”

There’s no answer, but you see the faintest shift in his posture. You press on.

“You fell through the ice,” you continue, your voice quiet now, laced with something almost wistful. “You were showing off again. Trying to impress Robb and Jon by walking out too far. You slipped, and the ice broke.”

He doesn’t move, but you can feel his attention on you now—hesitant, wary.

“Robb dragged you out,” you go on. “You were shivering so badly you couldn’t speak, and you looked like a drowned rat.” The corner of your mouth twitches faintly. “You cried when we made you sit by the fire.”

Finally, he turns just slightly. He doesn’t lift his head, but you catch a glimpse of his face, his hollow eyes peeking out from behind the curtain of greasy hair. Something flickers there—recognition, maybe even shame.

“You said you hated us all,” you continue softly, “but you didn’t. Not really.”

He swallows, his throat bobbing visibly. For the first time, he speaks—his voice is cracked and faint, barely audible.

“I… I remember.”

The words hang between you like fragile glass.

You stare at him for a long moment, searching his face for any trace of Theon Greyjoy—the boy who had once laughed alongside you in the Godswood, who’d playfully teased you when you climbed higher than him in the trees. But all you see is a shadow.

Your tone turns cold. “And now look at you.”

The flicker of warmth in his gaze dies immediately, as if snuffed out. His shoulders slump further, his head bowing until his chin nearly touches his chest. He doesn’t respond.

“I hate you for what you did,” you say quietly, each word cutting through the air like a dagger. “You betrayed my family. You took Winterfell. And now my wolf is dead because of you. Because of him.”

He flinches again at the word him, and you know you’ve struck a nerve.

You press on. “Is this what you wanted, Theon?” you spit his name like poison. “To be his creature? To cower and serve him while he destroys everything good in the North?”

“Don’t…” The word falls from his lips like a whimper.

“Don’t what?” you demand sharply, rising to your feet. “Don’t say the truth? That you’re nothing but his broken dog? Or are you afraid of hearing your name—Theon Greyjoy—because it reminds you of who you used to be? Who you’ll never be again?”

He staggers back a step, his hands trembling. “Stop…”

The anger burns hot in your chest, but you feel no satisfaction in it. You stare at him, this hollow, shaking thing, and the fury mingles with pity so sharp it makes your stomach turn.

“You disgust me,” you say finally, your voice low and even. “You let him take everything from you. And now you bring me bread and water like a good little servant. Go. I don’t want to look at you anymore.”

Reek stares at the floor for a long moment, his breathing uneven. Then, without another word, he turns and shuffles out of the room, the door groaning as he closes it behind him.

The silence that follows is worse than the cold. You sit back on the hard cot, staring at the tray he left behind. The smell of the stale bread and watery stew turns your stomach, but you don’t move.

For the first time in days, you let yourself cry. Silent tears fall down your cheeks, and you press a hand to your mouth to muffle the sound. Not for Snow. Not for Ramsay. But for everything—and everyone—you’ve lost.

And somewhere deep in the pit of your anger and grief, you feel something shift.

If Ramsay was the monster who took everything from you, then maybe Theon—broken as he was—could still be something more.

You would find a way to survive. You would keep your promise to kill Ramsay. But you’d also remember this moment.

#game of thrones #asoiaf #a song of ice and fire #fire and blood #hotd #house of the dragon #got #got/asoiaf #got x reader #got x you #got x y/n #got ramsay #ramsay x reader #ramsay bolton #ramsay x you #ramsay x y/n #house stark #house bolton #the north remembers her

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ace-does-stuff · 10 months ago

Text

karma's the judge

Summary: Clay learns that Viva is pink down to her very core- well, more of a magenta color right under her skin, the deeper into her flesh the more purple it gets.

Warnings: gore, near death, hospitals, agony, i cannot stress enough that this is not romantic, check Ao3 port for full tags

Authors Note: me and @ohposhers got talking, I'm legally not allowed to say anything else about the convo aside from the fact it inspired this fic. title from FØØL, specifically the INHUMAN remix. hope ya'll enjoy and if ya do consider dropping a like or reblog, or checkin' the Ao3 port.

It's only a mildly horrific sight for Clay to see.

He's lying actually.

The sound of the predator running off into the underbrush is still heavy in the air with cracking branches and rustling leaves. It echoes in his ears; that and the sound of Viva's laboured breathing. Her breath stutters as she wheezes, paw hovering over the bright blue shards in her chest and stomach. She's shredded in every sense including literal.

"C-Clay," Viva barely manages to get out, fat tears rolling down her face as agony surges through her. Neon magenta oozes out of rended flesh and seeps into fabric and slides down from her nose. Ears downturned and claws detracted, she's still in fight mode even though she should've ran with the rest of them.

Words are failing to form for Clay as he takes hasty, yet tentative, steps closer to his companion. Then she coughs, she sounds like death incarnate. Wet and shaky; phlegmy blood spills past her teeth and the gouges in her torso bubble up with her blood, the glass sinks deeper into her flesh. She's curling in on herself as she shudders and shakes and loose flesh trails on the dirt in stringy tendons. She grips for the shards to pull them out but even with adrenaline she's still fading fast. Her eyes flutter shut as the sharp edges slice her hands open to match the rest of her torn up body.

Viva falls limp and Clay is just frozen as he stares at their leader. Her chest rises and falls impossibly slow, she should be dead but she isn't and that gives just enough kick to get Clay to move and save her. Try to at least.

Clay drops down beside her and runs a paw across her wounds, checking the depth and the intensity aside from looking so bad it makes him feel nauseated. She shudders in her passed out state, tensing and flexing her claws against the unknown. The blood on his paws contrasts his own fur so much it makes him gag, the slimy texture of coalescing and cooling Pop Troll blood; it's lukewarm and drips but it's thick with bits of flesh. He wants to hurl as he shuffles Viva around a bit, she curls and shifts and hisses in her restless and forced state of sleep as he tries to help her.

Her cape is slowly wrapped around her body and her blood clings to the tufts of fur on the bottom and collar of the cape. The capes exterior doesn't hold in the blood, at all. Instead the magenta substance just slides off it, seeping through the fabric interior and slowly dripping down pieces of faux grass. Her breath heaves and her body is near entirely limp as it's restricted, Clay has to keep her head from hanging awkwardly and further straining her body as he carries her.

-/-/-/-

Viva jolts awake, body tingling with anesthetic that hasn't fully worn off. And as fast as she's shocked herself upright she's buckling in half due to an agonizing pain shooting up from her abdomen to her sternum. She clutches desperately only to find a similar pain resting heavy in her arm. Only then does she let her vision register as a train of thought in her head instead of bouncing from reflex to reflex.

White bandages wrap her arm and she isn't wearing a shirt, her entire torso is wound up in gauze that's a blend of magenta and almost purple with the darkness. She uses her other paw to touch it, and it's almost damp, that makes her stomach turn. She presses a bit more, higher up, and then she hits stitches left uncovered almost at her clavicles.

She glances down further and finds her leg covered in a thick layer of gauze, she can barely move her toes with how tight it is. And the magenta. She feels ill as the scent of drying and gelatinizing blood really sets in as hers instead of some other Troll in the medical ward.

Viva tries to move again, get off the bed and walk purely to spite the agony ripping through every wound on her (some unstitched but she can't tell with how much gauze she's wearing). Her paws rest shakily on the cot and so little effort leaves her winded, struggling to breath instead of cry out in pain. She's the leader. She has to be strong.

The second her toes hit the floor she swears she can hear something snap and she screams. Every torn tendon and string of muscle in her leg tries to fire all at once, preemptively activating to hold her weight, and the rush of blood darkens her gauze. It hurts enough to push her to tears as she falls back on the bed and clutches her leg. The agony in her arms and torso doesn't do much to deter her from holding the wound even as the sheets below her start to turn pink.

"Viva!"

Clay, it's Clay whose coming and closing the door behind him and rushing over. She bites back sniffles and pathetic little sounds as she lets go of her leg and relaxes just a bit. Her body lays prone on the cot, arms at her side and legs loose as Clay comes to her side.

"You were supposed to be out cold for fifteen more minutes," Clay said quietly. Then he laughs a little bit, awkward and forced, "I should've known you'd fight through the anesthetic though."

Viva laughs too even though there's nothing funny, "What happened?"

"You don't remember?" Horror rests heavy on Clay's voice as he speaks.

Viva rephrases, "How am I still alive?"

"Look, all I can't find any logical reason as to why considering how wrecked you were. But let's just take it and run." Clay's eyes linger on the darkness of Viva's terribly done excuse of a cast. He should've added more layers of gauze, or made actual casting materials.

"Did anyone else get hurt?" Viva asked, trying to sit up but pushed back down by Clay. She reluctantly stays still.

"No one else got hurt, the tribes really, really worried though," Clay said quietly, "But I have everything under control, just stay in bed till you're healed up."

Viva's blood goes cold at the notions of being bedridden for music knows how long. Her eyes widen a little bit and she stares at Clay, "What are you planning, Clay?"

Clay laughs nervously, "Nothing much, ya know, just taking reign until you're better."

"What."

"For your own health! It'll be fine!"

Viva gives a long sigh as she closes her eyes, "Don't mess it up, Clay."

"I won't! Besides, I've been doing the legal stuff, it'll be fine."

"Have fun socializing and being the funboy again."

Clay swallows hard. Right. Funboy. He'll have to be the funboy again. It makes hims stomach knot but he nods along because he knows. Being the funboy, he's pretty sure the notions alone make his mind flood with dysphoria.

But for Viva's sake?

He'll manage.

#trolls #trolls fanfiction #clay trolls #viva trolls #trolls viva #trolls clay #trolls fanfic #writing #fanfic #fanfiction #tw gore #tw injury #tw hospital

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multifandom-pleasures · 9 months ago

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scourge x reader

A/N: trying to convince people into the scourge hype as my second fave behind shadow - he may only be in the comics, but god do I love his character 🙏

you had hated him. he was arrogant, violent, power-hungry, and never took no for an answer. he paraded himself around the city like he was the self-proclaimed king he was; crown atop his head and red lenses covering his eyes, a sharp-toothed smile adorning his face. chaos forbid someone look at him the wrong way, because with a snap of his fingers they would be taken care of, left battered and bruised where they last stood.

and not to mention the women. monogamy was a word of fairy tail to him, a new chick hanging off his arm, scourge showing them off like some tacky piece of jewelry. sometimes, he would even have two of them - and even on the same day. he’d gotten his fair share of backhands across the face, a smug smile on his face like he hadn’t done a thing wrong. he was king after all, he could have as many women as he’d like; couldn’t he?

 but you weren’t prone to his charms, either. as much as you had despised him, cursed his being with every bit of your soul, he had found a way to weasel himself into your home. at first, it was for the usual hookups; he’d stumble to your door drunk and desperate, and you indulged in it. you got a good fuck out of it, and you would wake to him gone in the morning. it was a fair give and take. but then, after a couple of months, he’d begun to stick around. you would wake to his green spiked in your face, and you would shove him off your bed with a snark at him to get out already. he’d snag a a snack from your pantry and waltz his way out.

and then he stayed later. you gave up on kicking him out and let him lay in bed, getting a pot of coffee going. he’d shuffle his way into the kitchen at the smell of roasted coffee beans, rubbing at his eyes and mumbling something about staying in bed longer with him. you just shoved a mug of coffee into his hands, not caring if the scorching liquid splashed on him; and sent him to sit down. he would oblige, and you would give a simple breakfast of toast and eggs. he’d scarf it down, along with his piping hot coffee, and would leave with a wink and half-assed thanks for breakfast.

you don’t know when those days blended in with you waking up with him snuggled against the crook of your neck, his chest against your back and his arms locked around your waist. he didn’t even come by just for sex anymore; some days, sure, but the rest he would just make his way into your home; which you’d given him the key to so he would stop waking you at midnight; and he would join you in bed where you already slept. and you didn’t even mind. you never questioned him either, afraid that if you dared mention his new, odd schedule that he would pull back and avoid you altogether. you didn’t want that; not when you finally started to enjoy his company.

you woke one morning with scourge cradling you from behind. you didn’t make any movements yet, enjoying the sensation of his chest rising and falling against you as he slept, his breath fanning at the back of your neck. your hand slipped down to rest against scourge’s as it rested on your stomach, stroking your thumb against the back of it; his fur soft beneath the pad of your finger. he always took his gloves off before getting into bed with you.

you turned carefully in his grasp to look up at scourge’s sleeping form. the only time he ever looked peaceful was when he slept. his usual leering smirk nonexistent and instead parted in soft breaths, his furrowed brows relaxed and making him actually look youthful. he had eye bags, not so heavy as when you first met him, you noticed. and then ears, lightly twitching in his sleep, adorned with golden studs; one of his ears missing the tip. torn off in some fight years ago, you would assume.

you trailed down his form to his fuzzy pink chest, three faded yet still prominent scars torn across. he was always happy to brag about his scars, boast about his won battles and fights; except those three. when you questioned him he avoided it, waving you off that they were unimportant. that it was the same as any of his other stories. you didn’t push further.

“ like what yer seein’ dollface? “ you jerked up as he spoke, an unamused expression forming across your face as that smirk made its way across his lips, “ take a picture, yeah? lasts longer. “

“ shut up. “ you mumbled, shifting to sit up. his hand grasped onto your waist and tugged you back into him, which you didn’t fight against. you huffed as you fell back into the pillows and looked up at him as he instead moved to hover over you.

“ already so feisty so early in the mornin’? ain’t even said hi yet. “

“ hi. “ you replied boredly, and he flashed fangs as he grinned.

“ hey, dollface. “ he dipped down and pressed a kiss to your lips, which you eagerly leaned into. he’d learned to kiss you softer when once he’d gotten too excited and cut your lip open - he’d made it up to you with more kisses, tongue lapping at the blood and gentle murmurs of not meaning to be so rough.

you pulled back before he could get any thoughts of taking it further, pressing a hand against his chest and nudging him back. you looked up at him, expecting a more heated expression on his face - but you were surprised to see him simply admiring you. his eyes darted across your face, and then down your form, taking you in. it flustered you. you huffed and pressed your hand over his eyes, blocking his vision.

“ get up - I need coffee. “

“ hey, cmon, stay in bed this once? y’always get up too early. “ scourge complained, his arms caging you on the bed as he pouted. you snickered and uncovered his eyes.

“ if I stay in this bed any longer, I’m never getting up. “

“ ‘s kinda the point. “

“ you know what kind of person asks someone else to stay in bed like this? “

“ what. “

“ boyfriends. boyfriends ask their lovers to stay in bed to kiss and fuck and cuddle. “ you replied with a scoff, hoping that would be enough to startle him off you. but he didn’t budge.

“ boyfriend? “ he echoed, craning his head as he stared you down, not looking at all discouraged by your words like you’d hoped, “ ‘s that what ya see me as? “ you sputtered, feeling your face burn with a flush.

“ n-no! I’m just saying - hookups don’t ask for this kinda stuff, “ you averted your gaze, trying to keep from giving any kind of hint of your attraction to him. no way he would simply choose you. he loved his lifestyle.

when the silence lingered for a bit too long, you finally turned to face him, and immediately you were met with a kiss. you let out a small sound, startled by the gesture, but just as before you melted into it. your hands looped around his shoulders and you relished the gesture. scourge’s hand slid up to rest on your waist, his other hand still keeping him steadily over you, and as he pulled himself back you found yourself chasing after him. he smirked at your desperation.

“ all y’had to do was say so, y’know. “ he replied nonchalantly, “ it’s been - what - a year almost? y’think I keep my hookups round that long just cause they’re a good fuck? ‘s what my phone’s for, I don’t stick around. “ he dipped down to kiss your jaw, sighing, “ ‘m not gonna be great, I’ll tell ya that now. “

“ I know. “ you whispered, grasping onto his quills as he moved down to your neck.

“ might slip up and hurt ya. “

“ I know. “

“ why d’you want me anyways. y’know what kinda person i am - even i know ‘m shitty. “

“ I don’t know. “ you lifted his face to look down at him properly, “ I just.. know I like you. you’re different here than how you are out there. you don’t.. act. “ he hummed softly, pressing a few kisses against the palm of your hand, only serving to fluster your further.

“ y’sure you want me dollface? “ you nodded your head, and he gave you a toothy smile - softer than the usual ones, his eyes crinkling as he leaned in closer, “ then you’ve got me. just have some patience, alright? “

you nodded again, and captured his lips in another kiss. this time he was the one who was eager to reciprocate, tugging the blankets over the two of you once more. you both got what you had wanted in the end - you had gotten scourge to be solely yours, and scourge got you to stay in bed with him for the day.

#scourge x reader #scourge #scourge the hedgehog #sonic characters #sonic fandom #sonic the hedgehog #sonic fic #archie sonic

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marvelmusing · 1 year ago

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Handle With Care

From the Our Souls AU

Pairing: Aleksander Morozova x Fem!Reader

(His Dark Materials inspired AU)

Summary: Aleksander finds you in a vulnerable state and takes care of you and your dæmon after an altercation.

Warnings: mentions of violence and injury, hurt/comfort.

My Masterlist

Aleksander is drawn out of his study at the University of Ravka, by the sounds of a commotion further down the hallway. He steps outside, closing the door smoothly behind himself once Andromeda has followed him. It appears he isn’t the only one curious about the altercation. A few other people have gathered to watch the Master scold two people.

The sound of someone choking down a sob makes Aleksander’s stomach twist, because that someone sounds frighteningly like you. He increases the pace of his gait, striding down the corridor. His heart beats wildly in his chest when he sees your tearstained cheeks, clutching fiercely onto Fabian as you hold your dæmon close to your chest.

He barely hears what the Master says as he approaches. In the corner of his vision, he sees Zoya with a bruise forming on her cheek and there’s a twinge of pride in his chest at the thought of you defending yourself. He has no intention of listening to Nazyalensky’s side of the story.

“Come with me,” he murmurs softly against your ear.

Settling a gentle hand on your waist, he guides you towards his private quarters upstairs. He’s careful not to touch Fabian and keeps a close eye on you both. His heart aches as you continue crying quietly, your face almost hidden by Fabian’s fur.

Aleksander sets you down on his bed, and you curl in on yourself, keeping your dæmon tucked protectively against your chest. He retrieves a few medical supplies, bandages and ointments, from his bathroom in preparation. Then he sits down beside you. He strokes his hand down your side, attempting to soothe you before he speaks.

“Darling, I need to check Fabian over.”

A whimper catches in your throat, and he sees you shake your head weakly, burying your face into the red fur of your dæmon. Aleksander manages to get his hand underneath Fabian’s body, encouraging the two of you to let go of one another.

“Come here, sweet boy.”

A painful cry escapes you and Aleksander watches you press your arms tightly against your chest in an attempt at filling the space previously occupied by your soul.

“Faby,” you whine, distress choking you.

Aleksander hears your breathing shift into panicked gasps, seconds away from spiralling into another bout of uncontrollable emotion. He places his hand over your ribs, feeling the frantic rise and fall of your chest as your anxiety increases.

“I know, darling. I know it hurts, but he’s right here. Can you hold onto Andromeda for me?”

He feels you grasping at his dæmon, as she licks gently over your forehead, encouraging you to breathe in a soft voice. He hears her murmuring reassurances to you while you cry.

“Andromeda,” you whimper. She hushes you softly.

“It’s alright, dear girl. Aleksander will look after him.”

There are a few patches of fur missing from Fabian’s coat, clumps torn out during the fight, and a bite mark on his left shoulder. There isn’t too much damage, but the wound needs to be cleaned. The dæmon trembles in Aleksander’s lap as he dips a cloth into a dish of water, wringing out the excess.

Andromeda turns to look at him, eyeing the cloth in his hand.

“This is going to hurt them both,” he states.

She nods.

“Can you give him something for the pain?”

“I don’t know if he trusts me enough to drink it.”

“He will.”

Aleksander holds his dæmon’s gaze for a long moment. Then he nods. He pours a tonic into a small dish, placing in front of Fabian’s mouth.

“Drink as much as you can, Fabian.” When your dæmon begins to lick at the liquid, pink tongue darting out tentatively, Aleksander breathes out a sigh of relief. “There we go. Good boy.”

He strokes the back of Fabian’s head gently, encouraging to continue drinking. Once the dish has been licked clean, he turns his attention to the bite mark.

“Now let’s clean this up for you.”

Fabian only flinches slightly as the cloth meets his broken skin and a distant whimper catches in your throat and Aleksander hears you whisper his name weakly.

Whenever dæmon’s consume something, it affects their human counterpart tenfold. He suspects the tonic has made you disorientated, on the cusp of passing out. Aleksander’s dæmon continues talking to you, keeping you conscious and grounded as your fingers play absently with her fur.

Once Fabian’s wound has been cleaned, Aleksander carries him back over to you, placing him down on the bed. Instantly, your dæmon buries himself into your chest and you grasp hold of him tightly.

Andromeda licks your forehead affectionately, lying down beside Fabian. Aleksander drapes the covers over your body.

“The drink I gave him will make you both feel sleepy. Get some rest, darling.” As your mind seems to begin drifting off, your body tenses and Aleksander adds, “The door is locked. We are the only ones here, and I won’t touch Fabian again unless you ask me to.”

As soon as he finishes speaking, your breathing evens out.

»»---------------------►

“Aleksander?”

He turns quickly, neck twinging at the sudden movement. He must have fallen asleep in his armchair by the fireplace. His eyes scour over you, the exhaustion settled over your features, the way you keep your arms crossed protectively over yourself. Breathing out your name, he shuffles to the edge of his seat.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly, your eyes lowered to the rug beneath your feet as you tuck his robe tighter around your body.

He frowns.

“Whatever for?”

“Last night. I- I acted like a child.”

His gaze flickers down to your hands as they fidget, wringing them briefly before you begin to scratch your thumbnail against your palm. Emotion fills your features, your throat bobbing as you appear to be holding back tears.

“Someone had hurt your soul,” he argues. “I think how you acted was justified.”

There’s a pause as you seems to consider something.

“Don’t you think I should be more mature - less reliant on him?”

Fabian looks half-asleep, still curled up against Andromeda on Aleksander’s bed. He lifts his head at the sound of your distress, though Aleksander can see his eyes are unfocused and he soon slumps back down into Andromeda’s side.

“Not at all. Come here.”

You shake your head.

“You can’t want me,” you insist, tears dripping down your face. “I still need to hold my dæmon to fall asleep at night.”

“Is that what Zoya said to you?”

There’s a moment of hesitation where you don’t meet his eyes. Then you nod. He beckons to you again, and this time you walk closer and allow him to pull you into his lap.

“The bond you share with Fabian is a gift. It is beautiful. Anyone who doesn’t see that is a fool.”

More tears trace down your cheeks, droplets falling onto Aleksander’s shirt as you lean your temple against his shoulder.

“When I was younger,” you begin quietly, fidgeting with the collar of his shirt. “I used to play with the rest of the children who stayed at the Little Palace over the summer. We used to explore together. There wasn’t anywhere we didn’t go.”

He didn’t know you stayed at the Little Palace. He had always assumed you had a family, and a home, to go back to over the summer.

“Not long after Fabian settled, they started treating us differently. One day, they locked him in a pantry.”

Aleksander tilts his head at your admission, his eyes locked on your face as the memories turn your tears into soft sobs that have you trembling in his arms. He tightens his hold on you, as you grip onto his shirt.

“I couldn’t get him out. If it had happened a few months earlier, he could have changed into a moth or a beetle and crawled out through the crack under the door. But because he had settled, because he was a fox, he couldn’t get out.”

“What happened?”

“A kitchen servant found us. She took one look at him, saw a fox dæmon, and thought we were stealing food. She told the master, and I was punished for it. I was too distraught to tell them the truth.”

He rests his chin on the crown of your head and you bury your face into his chest. Anger burns in his chest, and Andromeda’s eyes lock onto his from across the room. They will never let anyone hurt you like that again.

“Darling, I’m so sorry.” He presses the hint of a kiss to your hair and the two of you are quiet for a moment. Then he says, “That’s why you went into dæmonlogy, isn’t it?”

You nod.

“Just because my dæmon is a fox, does not mean I’m untrustworthy.”

“It doesn’t,” he agrees. “Fabian is one of the most goodnatured dæmons I’ve ever known and you have a kind heart. Neither of you deserve such suspicion.”

“Thank you.”

He shakes his head.

“You don’t have to thank me.” He gives your body a gentle squeeze, tucking your head into the crook of his neck. His chin grazes your forehead as his hands rub over your shoulders, up and down your arm. “Stay with us for the day.”

That makes you lift your head up, to look at him. He watches you blink in confusion at his offer.

“What?”

“Fabian won’t be feeling himself until around noon. I don’t like the thought of you being alone while he’s out of sorts.”

“Oh.”

“And, perhaps…” He smiles at you, tracing his fingertips over your cheek, along your jawline. “I want to spend time with you.” That draws a bashful smile to your lips, spreading over your features. He tilts his head at you, admiring you with a soft expression. “Shall I ring for some breakfast?”

You nod.

“Please.”

»»---------------------►

marvelmusing Tag List: @dreamlandcreations @blanchedelioncourt @idaofinfinity @slytherheign @ellooo0ooo @vixenofcourse @dumb-fawkin-bitch @jane-arthur @ilikefictionmen @budugu @watersquirtpewpewboomm @mysweetlittledesire

S&B Tag List: @motheroffae @daddymaster21

Aleksander M Tag List: @nyctophiliiiiaaa @jazmin2211 @wooya1224 @seronsalk

BB Characters Tag List: @rachlovesactors @noortsshift @aikeia @weallhaveadestiny @two-unbeatable-beaters @idohknow @vaguekayla

#aleksander morozova x reader #the darkling x reader #the darkling au #shadow and bone au #shadow and bone x reader

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everlastingdream · 9 months ago

Text

part 1 - part 2

"It's not your fault, Enid, and there is nothing that can be done about it. It's just the way thing are. Goody did tell me I'm destined to be alone".

"I'm- I'm so sorry, Wednesday" Enid couldn't help but whisper, not daring to look into dark eyes. "If only I..."

"If only you nothing, mi corazón", Wednesday interrupted firmly. "It wasn't your choice to begin with, and it's not something you did. Besides, even if you had a say in it, why would you choose an Addams? Even more, me?"

Enid's head snapped up. She felt her fur appearing at the back of her neck and standing up, while quiet growling started deep in her chest.

"What do you-? How are you even-? Gods, Wednesday, I never wanted to strangle you more than now!" Enid decided to ignore how Wednesday gulped, because she didn't look scared at all and Enid was too mad right now to unpack it. Her claws went deep into the wood of the bench.

"Why wouldn't I?! You are the most intelligent, cool, scary, capable, caring and beautiful person I know! I would be so lucky to- wait, I am so lucky and honored to have you as my soulmate so don't ever say something so, so... so stupid to me again!"

She ended her speech (which with every passing second became more embarrassing but no less true) right into Wednesday's shocked face. With widely open eyes she looked very cute right now.

Enid felt metal taste, only now noticing that her fangs came out too and torn a side of her bottom lip.

Wednesday slowly brought her hand to the place where a drop of blood was about to fall. But instead of wiping it, she smudged it more, shivering just a bit when Enid's breath grazed her finger.

"Eres muy hermosa en este momento", Wednesday breathed out with almost dazed look in her eyes, before catching herself.

Enid caught her retrieving hand, pressing it to her cheek, nuzzling a bit, absentmindedly searching her wrist for the scent gland she knew Wednesday as a human couldn't have.

"Enid, I would prefer to finish my book, before dying. Can you let me go?"

"No can do", now almost halfway to wolfing out, Enid didn't bother trying to understand where her sudden obsession came from. "You see, my soulmate was thinking badly about herself, I should reassure her".

She found a spot where scent was stronger and bit there.

"I was just objectively speaking- mhn", Enid bit harder into small wrist, following with sharp eyes, how Wednesday blocked her mouth with her other hand.

You see, if not for the full moon aproaching and pouring hormones into her blood, perhaps Enid wouldn't have almost transformed from sheer irritation. Maybe she would silently listen to the story only to confide herself in the room to think and overthink things, hurting Wednesday and herself.

"Say, Wens, how can someone check if they're an Addams' soulmate?" Wednesday glared at her, even if she still didn't take her hand back. Something primal in Enid preened at it. Wednesday was clearly starting to be mad, but she seemed almost helpless to resist her soulmates attention, even though she sure could.

"As I said, they can't be truly happy with another romantic partner", Wednsday tucked a strand of raven hair behind her ear in frustration, even her cheeks were not their usual deadly white. Her hair was longer now than when they were at their first meeting three years ago. And now she started to wear it loose at home more often, despite not liking being the split image of her mother.

"Go on".

"They are immediately attracted to their respective Addams and wants to be closer to them despite everything".

"Interesting", even if Enid was listening attentively, but the image of Wednesday squirming because she soothed her bite with the tongue, was starting to make her head feel hazy.

"They are- mhn, feel the urge to protect their soulmate at all cost. And the most important, after they meet their Addams they become unable to have any romantic contact with other people".

Enid froze right before biting a second time a little higher. Her fangs and claws rectracted.

"Have you finally came to your senses? Honestly, have you just wanted to tease me? I'm a bit disappointed, to be honest. Even if the full moon not far. You knew, I wouldn't joke about that and it will be painful when we retu-"

Enid just sat there dumbfounded. Did Wednsday not know? Has she had no idea?

So when she kept accidentally extend her claws when kissing Ajax, it wasn't just nerves. And when she felt the urge to get Wednesday near and safe and looking at her, it wasn't just friendship. And when she went into the woods not wolved out to protect her, it wasn't just loyalty.

Enid started to giggle. It explained so much! And if Wednesday wasn't so pessimistic all this time and explained, everything would've been different.

"Enid? Are you alright?" See, even if Wednesday seemed cold, she was caring. "Have your hormones gone to your head?"

"You are silly", Enid managed between laughter.

"Mi amor, are you okay?" Wednesday started to sound worried, bending over to Enid, who was maniacally giggling on the ground.

"I'm not. I found my soulmate, realized I've been in love with her for three years, and learned that my soulmate wanted a gruesome death so much she forgot to ask me if I love her. Isn't it a bit silly?"

Wednesday almost toppled over, and Enid tugged her stupid, stubborn, the most perfect soulmate into her arms.

"Hi, I'm Enid", she said, smiling in bewildered dark eyes, that slowly started to soften with tears and soul-crashing relief. "I think you are gorgeous inside and out and many other things I'll tell you throughout our whole lives. I've loved you since I saw you, and I'm really glad you love me too".

Someday Wednesday will make her swear she won't tell a soul that her soulmate cried.

Someday Enid will scold her for keeping all to herself, while kissing all over her tear-soaked face.

Someday they'll tell everyone to the chorus of "well dah".

But now there is just one thing that is more important than anything.

It is to sniffle a little because Enid is not made from stone and there is her love in her arms.

"I'm your soulmate!"

#wednesday netflix #wednesday addams #enid sinclair #wenclair #forgive my spanish it's googled #final part!

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letstalktea · 7 months ago

Text

Bitch and the Big Bad Wolf

Content: Emil Rawlins/afab!The Witch, werewolf, knotting

Note: As always, Emil Rawlins (The Rot of Witchwood) belongs to @rotting-ink

Word Count: 1k

“Run, little witch.” He warned with a smirking snarl on his face. “Run as fast as you can before I catch and sink my teeth into you.”

When you had fled from him like a shrieking maiden into the dark and foggy woods – a prime stereotypical setting for a wolf attack, granted, but fantasies were to be enjoyed, not questioned – he was fully human. By the time he had caught up to you, he was a beast. And you, the ever-exposed witch who had just so happened to venture out in nothing more than a short flowing dress that would flutter in the wind enough to show your bare pussy underneath, were left to the werewolf’s lack of mercy.

Emil pressed his clawed hand against the back of your head, shoving your face into the ground while his other raked over the curve of your ass that was on full display for his amusement after your skirt had been flipped up and practically fallen around your neck. His fur tickled your skin where it made contact and goose pimples rose up everywhere his sharpened claws scraped; over your rear, down your legs, between your thighs, brushing against your–

“You're wet,” he growled deep in his throat, the words mangled by the shape of his snout.

From behind, you could feel the cool wetness of his nose brushing against the heat of your dripping sex. Your thighs pressed together instinctually, but they were quickly pried apart by only a fraction of his strength and his pure determination to stay buried in your cunt.

Despite the fact that speaking was difficult for him, he didn't need any words to lap up the juices leaking from your pussy. He ran the flat of his hot tongue along your messy folds, drinking up all the proof that you enjoyed running away in terror from the big bad wolf as much as he enjoyed hunting you down in an environment where you hadn't stood a chance to outmaneuver or outrun him.

You whimpered beneath him, quickly switching to squealing as his fangs nipped at the fat where your thigh met your butt.

There was a smirk in his broken words. “Good bitch.”

His hand left the back of your head, knowing you wouldn't dare to move from your current position. If you did, you were sure he could – and would – twist you into a position that would be far more exposing than the one you were currently in. But, no. You liked your current position and you were sure he did too, especially when you felt him shift behind you so that he was lying with his furry chest pressed to your back and his massive claws sliding down your arms to pin your wrists in place. Every low growl and warning bark to watch your behavior now rumbled directly into your ear, down your spine, and went straight to your cunt. That wasn’t the only thing going straight to your cunt.

The tongue that had once been eagerly dominating you was replaced with something hotter, thicker, harsher.

“Emil,” you whined, almost begging, knowing exactly what he was planning.

There was a sinister chuckle in his voice right before his hips thrust forward and your cunt was torn open on his cock.

Your screams bounced off the trees and were carried away by the wind. Each one falling from your lips in time to the brutal pace he set as he fucked you like you weren’t even a person. Your body was nothing more than something to keep him warm, squeeze down, and milk him dry; his reward for catching you. And your punishment was to accept all of it. Every time he rocked forward, burying himself just a little deeper until it felt like there was no more space for him; every time he scraped out your insides as he pulled back, leaving you sore at his withdrawal; every time you antagonized him by crying so loudly that any fool could hear – and only fools would be in the woods on a night like this; you were made to take all of it with your teeth gritted tightly together and your throat going sore from screaming.

Until he went so deeply that you could feel something else catch against your entrance. Something fat and bulbous and–

“No, no,” you pleaded as you felt him begin to bully his knot inside. “It’s too big.”

If he heard you, he was ignoring you. Or, rather, he was refusing to listen. Instead, he opened his maw and clamped down on your shoulder.

Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as you came around his cock. Screams turned into mewling and all your protests were brushed away as he forced his knot inside your fluttering hole.

The way he rocked into you, locked into place by his swelling knot, still felt like he was buried in your guts; like he was still trying to fuck you even as neither of you could move properly. The only sign that it would all be over soon was when something hot started to flood your cunt. Or, it would normally be the sign, but Emil seemed eager to keep fucking into you despite the fact that he had just come.

One of his massive claws left your wrists and ventured to your front, the pads of his fingers pressing and rubbing against your clit that was just as swollen as his knot. You knew that he wasn’t done with you. You dragged him – willingly – into this fantasy of yours and he was going to enjoy playing the big bad wolf until he was satisfied.

Perhaps when the sun came up or the fog rolled out.

Whichever came last.

#h2ho #a cool drink of water #the rot of witchwood #monster fucker #tw knotting #tw biting

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kolechiart · 1 month ago

Note

Do you have any strange hill high headcanons with the main trio

* sure! i got a couple under my belt at this point but to preface one of the main headcanons i have is that the magical oddities of the school carry over and infect the students as much as it does the teachers, giving each of them a unique curse of sorts that fades away once they leave school grounds - this concept dictates the rest of this post!

templeton 🧪💡

curse turns into him into a wooden puppet - though one that is old and dull in colour. human enough sure, his sweater does most of the heavy lifting noticeably off not helped by worn paint and chipped, dented wood. he looks more like a test dummy than a children's toy-

the meaning here is obvious enough, to highlight his gullible, easily swayed nature, but one that'd still be lost in him anyway as most things are. looking deeper brings to light a more charitable reading of him being naturally curious and easily adaptable to any situation.

most noticeable feature is that he glasses are his eyes and he is still able to see out of them when they're no longer attached to his face. they aren't hiding anything however and if removed will only reveal a hallow, blank face that's prone to being vandalised with red marker-

it's hard to tell if he's really…alive in this form and he doesn't need much of anything at all. sleep? water? food? all concepts that feel strangely unfamiliar all of a sudden and the fact he's prone to going in a lifeless, ragdoll like trance whenever he stressed does little to help.

becky 🐭🧶

curse turns her into a stuffed toy mouse - one that is been well used and therefore she's stitched together like patchwork quilt a mixture of soft felt, torn cardboard and floral patterns. she feels as if she has crawled out of a grandmas sewing tin but can't say that she minds.

what she does mind is that how this is clearly mocking her for being meek and anxious, quick to bolt and otherwise be scatteredbrained under pressure. as true as that may be it also hints at her softer, kind nature and how that her impulsive can be just as much as a blessing.

tends to undo at the seams when anxious, causing her to fall apart in a more literal fashion. she insists that the only painful thing about it is the sheer inconvenience of it all but upon discovering she's still has full control of her body when it's in pieces maybe it has more uses-

very creative and artistically gifted, another's trash is her treasure! or even maybe a new coat or earrings. big into upcycling and is fond of making personalised trinkets for her friends but tends to have a hard time letting go of clutter. you never know when it'll be useful, mitch!

favoured pass time is exploiting templeton and using him as a blank canvas for him to paint or otherwise experiment on with her more out there crafting. after all he is built like a mannequin, it's only fair.

mitchell 🐺🚀

curse turns him into a werewolf - though one made from hardened, worn plastic instead of plush soft fur and that combined with his segmented, ball jointed limbs gives him the appearance of an action figure! maybe one that has been collecting dust on a collectors shelf

he's disgruntled by this, viewing it as backhanded way to poke fun at his lack of attention span and given the nature of the curses he isn't exactly wrong in thinking that. however it's also in reference to his unwavering, doglike loyalty and general easy going, playful nature.

he was more enthusiastic upon discovering that body modification was something that came almost natural. from extending his arm to flick becky's ear from the other side of the room to swapping out his hand to a nerf gun pranking just became his main line of defence.

naturally he brute forced himself to become an makeshift engineer and with the help of becky's scrape collection alongside templeton's brainstorming he's able to craft up all sorts of makeshift tools and devices for every niche, hyper specific situation imaginable!

the only thing stopping him from terrorising everyone around him is his lack of foresight and how many of his ideas do not pan through because are you sure physics is an actual, tangible concept and not something made up so that they can bore you to tears in class-

#haunted mailbox #ghost babbles #strange hill high #phew i had to go dig for some of my notes to refresh myself #then was horrified it's been six months #mm dont like that!#this wasnt supposed to be an au it's just me playing with dolls #i do have more on this tho so i might elaborate if ppl want that

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magicamicitia · 10 months ago

Text

WARNING: Mentions of suicidal/intrusive thoughts.

Volume One, Chapter Two

“You’re not alone anymore.”

Beep.

Click!

Sunset Shimmer once again woke up to the sound of her alarm clock, and carried on with her morning routine as normal. However, the memories of the previous afternoon refused to leave her thoughts.

She was aware of the existence of magic in other worlds, but… This one wasn’t supposed to be one of them. So what’s up with all of this? Magical girls? Witches? A talking cat-with-bunny-ears freak? It was weirder than anything she’d ever seen in any other world. Apparently, humans like her weren’t supposed to be able to see witches like she did. Sunset figured her background as a magic interdimensional traveller could explain that abnormality.

Whatever this all meant, she hoped Twilight knew what she was doing.

“I have no idea what I’m doing!” Twilight Sparkle skipped nervously around her room.

“Don’t worry!” the small white creature, who referred to itself as ‘Kyubey’, carefully groomed its fur in a corner. “If you ever need any help, you can always ask me.”

Twilight couldn’t help but roll her eyes.

“Yeah, that’s real reassuring. The last time I asked for your help, You-“

Her train of thought was crudely interrupted by a knock at the door.

“Sweetie?” Her mother’s voice called. “Are you okay in there? You’re gonna be late if you don’t come out soon!”

“Shoot! I’d better get going!”

She left her home in a hurry as to avoid being late, despite her family’s attempts to tell her she still had twenty minutes until her usual time of departure. With a half-eaten sandwich in her hands and a trusty Kyubey over her shoulders, she was surely ready for another day as a high school student AND magical girl!

Huh?

Twilight Sparkle suddenly felt a strange weight on her chest. looking down at the soul gem ring on her finger, she noticed it emitted a strange glow.

“What’s all this now?”

“Your soul gem is reacting to magic,” kyubey answered. “There must be a witch nearby! We have to go after it!”

“NOW?! I can’t go after a witch NOW! I couldn’t even finish off the last one, and if I take too long fighting it… I’ll be…”

She gulped, terrified.

“…TARDY!!!”

“Twilight! You’re a magical girl now, the future of humanity relies on you battling witches!”

“I know, I know… But… Like, can’t you do it or something?”

“Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about witches in their physicial form. But once you defeat the witch, I can collect its grief seed and make sure it never comes back!”

“Ughhhh!!! Fine, I’ll do it, I’ll do it…”

Her soul gem’s magic led her to a beautiful hedge maze just outside an ancient history museum.

“Wow… this place looks so peaceful. Odd spot for a witch to make its lair.”

“You’re right, Twilight. Usually, witches will try to hatch in locations where they can collect the despair of nearby victims. But this maze is a total ghost town…”

“Well, then that must mean this one doesn’t feel like it needs any extra power, huh?”

“Yes. We’d better get ready; we’re about to enter the labyrinth, quite literally.”

As Twilight moved towards the center of the maze, she could feel reality around her become more and more distorted. But she noticed a strange consistency among the chaos.

“These patterns… these creatures… This is the same witch from yesterday!”

Kyubey backed up against Twilight’s legs, looking for refuge. “Looks like we got real lucky then. If we had decided to fight it then, with a human tagging along, things would have gotten real dangerous.”

Twilight spared no time - casting her magical power, she transformed into her magical girl self and barged through the horde of familiars with her shield. The familiars, however, laughed at her futile attempts. Their torn bodies sewed themselves back together to take on another form.

“P…Principal Celestia…?” Twilight felt an enourmous weight fall onto her shoulders.

“Twilight Sparkle,” said the mirage. “What are you doing here, when you should be at school? You used to be such a good student…”

“U-Used to be? No, no, I still am! In fact, I was on my way back-“

“It’s too late for that now. You’ve already been expelled from Crystal Prep, do you want me to expel you from Canterlot High as well? That won’t look good on your records.”

“No! I wasn’t expelled! Candace just thought it would be better for me if…”

Her legs were shaking.

“I… I’m… You’re not supposed to be here!”

Mustering up her strength, Twilight attacked the illusion of Celestia with everything she had. The familiars, however, simply dissolved themselves while laughing, leaving Twilight to fall to the ground, crying and defeated.

“What’s happening… Why am I… So weak…?”

The laughter around her turned to chants.

“End it!”

“What good is a magical girl who can’t fight a witch?”

“End it!”

“Give up your soul gem and feed us!”

“End it!”

Her vision was starting to get blurry. Why did she accept this awful offer in the first place?! She didn’t have what it took to be a magical girl at all!

Oh,

That’s right…

The reason was…

“Hold on tight, sugarcube!”

From the skies, a mysterious sillhouette came down to Twilight’s aid. Once it landed, she was surprised to see another magical girl, just like her!

Well, maybe her clothes were a little different. Very country. And instead of a shield, this girl took out five mint-condition flintlock muskets from her stylish cowboy hat. With the aim and confidence of a professional, she took down the monsters without missing a single shot. Then, she whipped her hair around, adjusted her hat, and turned to a baffled Twilight on the ground.

She smiled and reached out her hand.

“You alright over there?”

Before she could even say anything, four other girls made their way to Twilight and the mysterious magical girl.

“AJ, no fair! You said this one was mine!” A feisty girl with rainbow-colored hair rushed in first, clearly very upset.

“Oh, darling, please, that was clearly not the witch. You’re making a scene for no reason.” Added a purple-haired girl dressed in gorgeous modern-victorian couture.

“Wait,” said the multicolor girl. “Who’s that one over there?”

“I-I’m… Twilight… Twilight Sparkle…” She clumsily adjusted her glasses and got up.

“Pleasure to meet ya, Twilight.” The girl with the muskets smiled. “Name’s applejack.”

“I’m Rainbow Dash!” the spunky girl added.

“My name is Rarity, but you may call me Miss Rarity if you’re a fan.”

“Oh, I’ve heard your name before! You’re like, a prodigy star of the design world, right?”

“You’re quite right, darling! And those two over there are Pinkie Pie and Fluttershy.”

“W…Woah… So, you’re all magical girls…?”

“ALMOST all of us. Flutter can’t seem to come up with a wish, so we just drag her along as moral support.” Rainbow Dash cut in with a sarcastic tone.

“Rainbow, don’t say that!” Applejack reprimanded. “Don’t you worry, sugarcube. I know how scary it is to fight them mean witches all by yourself, but you’re not alone in this no more. We got your back!”

#magicamicitia #mlpmagicami #mlp au #pmmm au

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avocadish0w0 · 2 months ago

Note

*slides in*

HI THERE

so you’ve probably gotten a lot of asks already abt this (bc of the tumblr media) but regarding you last post, i think you should do the loud noises prompt since grian and scar both died because of the sonic blast from the warden (at least grian did.) write it as you’d like, wether grian and scar are ghosts, and bird man has a mental break down and scar comforts him, or they’re back on hermitcraft talking about it because grian seems to be spooked by loud noises recently, which isn’t like him. or smt totally different.

SORRY FOR THE PARAGRAPH AAA

this is all if you accept this ask, of course, you don’t have to gufufysttchbknkbngfcg

anyway, thank you and ByE-

Ayo! Sorry for the disappearance, I'm trying to do all the few prompts I was given now that I have time since I'm on vacation, your prompt was sitting in my mailbox for so long and I finally got an Idea, also, thanks for the prompt in advance!

(edit: I accidentally posted it before finishing it, fucking hell)

Also I have a head canon that the Warden's sonic blast makes the person implode if hit by it

(TW: gore, panic attacks, gays)

Let's go I guess!

===============================

Grian's POV

I ran towards the ladder, breathing heavily and limping, bleeding from a cut in my arm, my wings torn and with missing parts, my body burning with agony as I tried to keep quiet, my surroundings fading to black as the Warden got closer, my heart was beating fast, the sounds of the corrupted souls in the chest of the creature screaming for blood... I let out a ear-splitting scream, my soulmate's name, Scar's name, as my ears rang, I felt my body growing bigger and heavier, not feeling my limbs anymore as the sound around me vanished...

My fingers brushed against the ladder as I felt my vision turn purple and my body exploding into a pool of blood and organs, my insides splattered around the confined space, staining the stone and the wood... And then I felt nothing... Everything faded to black...

I'm so sorry Scar... I love you...

Scar's POV

I walk walking around the snow covered night with my horse and Jellie, wrapped in a sand-colored coat with on red heart imprinted on the back, the hood over my head, small puffs of air leaving my mouth and nose as I struggled to breathe in the cold, my cat snuggled against my body, seemingly unbothered, i smiled softly, caressing her fur when my ears started to ring, my arm stinging as if it had been cut deeply, my body felt weak and my vision started to get blurry, my heart racing, my body felt numb as I felt my body falling to the side, a soft thump being the only thing I could hear as I felt my body growing cold and damp, my chest clenched, making it hard for breathe and move, I screamed for help, no one would hear it, i screamed for Grian, i heard his voice like a whisper as my vison faded to black, my body falling limp on the ground

I love you too, songbird... I forgive you

==============================================================

I sat in my bed, breathing heavily and gasping desperately for air, gripping my chest, my eyes darting around, trying to understand where i was, despair filled me before I heard a soft meow coming from next to me, going back to my senses, the warmth of the wood walls calming me, I was back at Hermitcraft, back to my cozy tree, i was alive and healthy...

During the next few days, me and some other Hermits started to notice Grian was barely out of his base, hadn't pranked anyone in a while and haven't played around with the multiple stacks of TNT he had, we still talked, but he seemed distant, every slightly loud noise seemed to make his ear wings pin back and his wings open sharply, as if waiting for something to attack.

I was talking to Grian and Xisuma in my base, chatting normally while it rained outside, everything seemed peaceful until a loud thunder fell, making me and X jump slightly, laughing softly, but Grian... His eyes widened and he started breathing heavily, wings shut tight against his back, he stumbled back, falling next to my chests, X was quick enough to rush before he hit his head, he started clutching his sweater, writhing on the ground, his hands frantic to grasp at something, gripping his ears or beating his head, letting out a heart-wrenching cry. X backed away, trying not to get hurt, I, instead, rushed forwards and hugged him tightly "Gri! What's happening?! Are you okay?" I asked, trying to comfort him, he hugged me tightly, muttering apologies, begging for my forgiveness, begging for me not to hate me "Ple-ase! I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! P-ple-ease! Forgive me! I-i- swear I-i'll be better! Don't h-hate me!" His sobs broke my heart, I cried with him, holding him close to my chest, making sure he hears my heartbeat, caressing his blond curls and looking at X worriedly.

After what seemed like hours, Grian stopped crying, only leaving soft sobs on my drenched elven dress, I held him tighter, mumbling back "Don't worry, I forgive you, songbird... I'm here now, we're safe, we're together" I hold his hand, pressing my thumb to his palm "I love you so much... It wasn't your fault..." I whispered before pressing a soft kiss to his head, picking him up and taking him to my room after X left, cuddling him close to me, shielding his ears from the storm outside.

===============================

Sorry if it's rushed! I'm sleepy but I know that if I slept I'd lose my ideas, so I was trying to finish this before falling asleep on top of my phone

I hope this was what you had in mind, anon! I had to search during which season did Double Life happened, if I got anything wrong please let me know!

#desert duo #grian #hermitcraft #gtws #hermitcraft s8 #desertduo #double life smp #double life #life games #scarian fanfic #scarian #hermitcraft smp #hermitcraft s9

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n0cturn4 · 2 months ago

Text

The Beauty who killed the Beast

Character: Jason Todd x Reader Summary:A deformed creature, marked by pain, battles between its inner beast and the memory of what it once was. He seeks her, offering her refuge. For a moment, she responds, but soon falls, succumbing to her end. He remains, trapped in pain and farewell. Word Count: 2458 Triggers: Blood

The laboratory doors opened with a metallic creak, echoing through the cold walls. Jason took a deep breath, trying to control the weight pressing against his chest. He had followed the clues for weeks, each darker than the last, until they all converged to this place. A decaying space where the smell of death and chemical experiments filled the air.

Inside, the lights flickered faintly, casting grotesque shadows projected by abandoned machines. In the center of the main hall, there was a cage. The metal bars were bent, some broken, as if something monstrous had forced them out of place. Dried blood stained the floor, tracing the path Jason now followed.

He found you at the back of the laboratory. A hunched creature, its muscles deformed, covering its body with pale, torn skin. Its claws, thick and sharp like obsidian blades, were dug into the concrete floor, leaving deep marks as it moved. The thick fur covering its body was tangled and stained with blood, mixing with the exposed flesh where the skin had been torn, as if the transformation process had destroyed everything human in it.

Its face, still vaguely human, was twisted by primal fury. Its nose had elongated into a wild snout, with sharp and irregular teeth jutting from its open mouth. The eyes, those eyes Jason recognized, were covered by a golden, fierce glow, as if the beast was always on the verge of losing control. The jaw, now exaggeratedly large and full of fangs, trembled slightly as a black, rough tongue passed over the teeth, staining them red.

The ears, once small and delicate, were now elongated, pointed like a wolf's, twitching with every sound that echoed through the room. The creature breathed heavily, its chest rising and falling with an almost animalistic sound. Every movement it made seemed like a warning, an imminent threat, as if its body were just waiting to strike. The claws, ready to tear through anything in its path, were deeply embedded in the cold, hard floor.

When you turned to face him, your four-fingered paws scraped against the metal with a sound that marked the room, as if the creature wanted to imprint its presence on the environment. A low, guttural growl escaped its throat, vibrating in the dense air, almost breaking the heavy silence. It was on high alert, a beast facing an intruder — but at the same time, something else seemed to shine in its eyes. Something Jason recognized. It wasn’t just savagery. It was a silent scream, a plea.

The muscles of its body, deformed by the transformation, contracted with a threatening force, and its posture showed off its sharp fangs, ready to pounce at any moment. The fur, mostly blackened and stained with blood, bristled with each heavy breath, forming a dark cloak that covered it entirely, hiding any trace of humanity. The creature before him was no longer the person he had known, but something pain and experience had forged — a monster whose origins he still tried to understand.

Fresh blood dripped from its mouth, painting its jaw with vivid red, a sign of its recent brutality. But as Jason looked closer, he noticed that its eyes, though glowing with inhuman intensity, still carried a spark of something familiar. A trace of what it had once been. Something within you was still there, hidden, fighting to break free from the beast it had become.

It lunged with a fierce roar, its feet smashing into the floor as its claws dug deeper, but Jason did not retreat. Instead, he stood firm, his breath slow and controlled. He knew that what stood before him wasn’t just a wild creature. It was you. The pain and loss of everything that had made you human were still there, latent, waiting to be touched.

"I know you're still here," Jason murmured, his tone soft, almost like a plea. "I see it in your eyes... I know you remember."

The creature hesitated, its growl softening, as if unable to understand what was happening. Its claws, once ready to strike, relaxed a bit. The internal struggle was visible in its posture. It wanted to attack, but something else inside it was holding it back. Maybe it was the memory. Maybe it was the pain.

Jason took a cautious step forward, steady, without rushing. His gaze locked onto its eyes, searching for the spark of humanity that still remained. He knew he couldn’t be impulsive. He needed you to know that there was still a chance.

Slowly, he raised his hand to its head. Its fur was rough, almost painful to the touch, but Jason didn’t mind. He let his hand rest there, a timid but genuine caress. The creature’s muscles relaxed, still tense, but less threatening. Its body slightly bent, as if something in its essence was beginning to give. The growl, once so fierce, now seemed more distant, more contained.

Jason kept his hand there, feeling the resistance of its body, but also the fragility of the situation. He knew the beast was still there, but for that brief moment, it seemed less wild, less uncontrollable.

"I won’t let you die like this," he whispered, his voice soft but full of conviction. "I came back for you.. and I won’t lose you."

He stood there for a few moments, his hand still resting on the creature’s head, watching it with a mix of compassion and caution. The silence that filled the space was heavy, as if even the air had frozen, waiting for a movement, a sound, something to guide them.

The creature, for its part, seemed to understand the gentleness of the touch, which somehow calmed it. Its muscles were still rigid, but now there was a small change. It leaned slightly, as if desiring his presence, a silent attempt to reconnect with what it had lost.

"I know you didn’t want this," Jason murmured, more to himself than to it. "I know that... this isn’t who you are."

But the words were still not enough to make the pain disappear. With each passing second, he saw more clearly how torn it was, both physically and emotionally. It wasn’t just a creature transformed by violence; it was a soul still struggling to understand what had happened to it. The internal struggle was obvious, and Jason felt his heart tighten as he realized how deep the abyss was that it was trying to cross.

It took another step forward, its golden eyes fixed on him, trying, with all its strength, to communicate something. The sound it emitted this time was clearer, but still a mumble of pain and frustration. "Jason... it... hurts..."

Jason couldn’t believe what he was hearing. The words came out with such clear pain that he almost felt it physically. It was trying to speak to him, trying to say what it needed, but the creature it had become made any attempt at clearer communication difficult.

"I know... I know it hurts," Jason said, his voice softer, trying to give it some comfort. He knew the pain wasn’t just physical. It was the internal battle to hold onto a piece of itself, a soul crushed by the beast that took over its body. "But I’ll help you, you’re not alone."

The creature shook its head, as if trying to deny it. The sound that came from its mouth was a low hiss, more like a sigh of agony. "I... can’t... go back?"

It was a silent question, more a wish than a doubt. Jason felt his throat tighten with the sadness that poured from those words. It wanted to go back. It wanted to be who it was before, to escape from that monstrous form. He could see it in its eyes, a desire to rescue the humanity it had lost.

"I don’t know if we can go back to what we were," Jason replied honestly, though the weight of those words felt like a sharp blade. "But I’ll help you. I’ll do whatever it takes."

It took another hesitant step, as if trying to reach him, searching for something. But fear and pain still dominated its movements, and it stopped again. Its eyes glimmered with deep internal conflict, and Jason could see clearly what was happening inside it. It was a brutal fight between the humanity that still remained and the monstrosity that threatened to swallow everything.

The silence stretched again, heavy like an endless night. Jason didn’t know what to do besides stand there, offering the only thing he could give — his presence, his silent promise not to abandon it. But he also knew that this struggle, between what it had been and what it had become, couldn’t be resolved all at once. It was a long journey, perhaps even one without end, and he would have to walk by its side at every step.

So, without more words, he lowered his hand and moved a little closer. The creature, though still cautious, did not retreat. On the contrary, it seemed to breathe more freely, as if simply being near him was the relief it needed, even if it didn’t know how to explain it. Jason slowly knelt down, his eyes never leaving hers.

"I won’t leave you alone in this," he said, with an unexpected softness. "It may not be easy, it may not be fast, but I’ll be here. We’ll get through this together."

The creature, with teary eyes, slowly nodded, as if accepting the promise, even though the words were still out of its reach.

Jason then extended his hand once again. And this time, it didn’t hesitate. Though its fingers were still rough and its claws sharp, it touched him lightly, as if trying to anchor itself in that moment, in that touch, as if it were the last anchor of humanity it still possessed.

Jason’s heart skipped a beat as the creature’s rough hand brushed against his, a fragile connection in the midst of chaos. He could feel its desperation, its silent plea for something more than just survival. But before either of them could react further, the sound of boots pounding against the cold concrete echoed in the distance. A harsh, commanding voice followed.

“Take her down! Now!”

The first shot rang out, the noise deafening in the still air, and Jason’s eyes snapped to the soldiers, their rifles raised. The creature flinched, its body trembling with fear and rage, and in a split second, its claws dug deep into the ground, propelling itself forward.

With an inhuman growl, it seized Jason in its arms, lifting him as though he were weightless. Jason’s heart pounded in his chest, the world spinning as the creature darted toward the shadows, moving faster than he could comprehend. The soldiers’ voices grew frantic, shouting orders to each other, but the creature moved with a singular focus: escape.

Each step it took sent tremors through the floor, the air thick with the smell of blood and gunpowder. Jason gripped its fur, trying to steady himself, but the creature was already pushing its limits. The sound of footsteps grew louder—closer. They were gaining on them.

His mind raced. He couldn’t let them catch up. But the creature was slowing, its labored breathing becoming more erratic. Jason could feel it weakening, fighting against its own exhaustion and the overwhelming fear of being hunted.

“Don’t stop,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. “We can make it.”

But the creature’s grip tightened as it leaped over a broken staircase, darting through a corridor of darkness. The soldiers were close now, their heavy boots echoing in the narrow hallways, and Jason knew time was running out.

They had to make it out.

Jason’s voice, raw and desperate, cut through the air in a whisper no one could hear. His breath was ragged, each word a plea for mercy, for an end to the chaos, but the soldiers remained deaf to his torment. The pounding of their boots echoed like the slow, inevitable approach of fate. “Please,” he murmured, the word barely escaping his lips, “don’t shoot...”

But the creature, its limbs trembling with exhaustion, didn’t falter. It kept climbing, pushing through the darkness, its every step a cry for freedom, a final act of defiance. The sound of gunfire began to fade into the distance, drowned out by the weight of his own helplessness. The beast’s body pressed closer to him, like a silent promise, though they both knew the truth — the end was coming.

Up, always up, as if the highest point of Gotham could offer them a reprieve, a brief moment of peace before the inevitable. Jason’s heart ached with the understanding that there was no salvation for them. Not here, not now. The towering heights of Gotham stretched far beyond them, the city that never stopped breathing, never stopped hurting.

The creature climbed, its breath shallow, but its grip on him tightening with a primal urgency. Jason could feel the tremors in its bones, the fading flicker of something human beneath the monstrous exterior. He wanted to believe there was hope, that they could find a place to hide from the world that hunted them, but the truth hung heavy in the air — they were both beyond salvation.

And as they reached the highest rooftop, the city sprawled beneath them, the lights flickering like distant stars, Jason whispered into the night, his voice cracking, “I’m sorry... I couldn’t save you...”

The silence that followed was deafening. A world too far gone for redemption. The creature’s eyes, wild and desperate, met his one last time, as if asking him to understand. But there was no time left for understanding. Just the cold, merciless pull of the end.

They looked at each other for one last moment, a look that said more than words ever could. Jason felt the creature's pain, a pain that had become his own, as if their souls were entwined in an impossible fate. There was something in her eyes — resignation, a final spark of something that had once been human, now lost in the abyss of her own destruction.

And then, the creature, with her wounds bleeding and her body weakening, could resist no longer. Her feet faltered, and in a slow, almost resigned movement, she unraveled before him, her weight colliding with the concrete of Gotham's tower. Jason tried to reach her, but it was too late. The beast fell, dragging the last breath of her existence as if the wind of the city had finally carried her away.

The silence that followed was deep and vast, swallowing everything around. Gotham continued to breathe, but for Jason, in that moment, the world had stopped. The sound of her fall, the collision with the distant ground... everything mixed with the echo of his own failures. He stood there, frozen, his vision blurred by pain and loss, knowing there was nothing more to be done, no words that could save what was already lost.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd/reader #red hood x reader #red hood/reader #red hood x you #jason todd angst #jason todd x you #jason todd #jason todd fics #red hood #red hood fanfiction #angst #pain #jason peter todd

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purplestanleypinkblanket · 4 months ago

Text

A Monster, Moonlit Solace (4):

Pairings: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: During the nightly escapade of your transformation, Castiel comes to save the day. However, in the middle of Dean trying to come up with a way to save you, a misunderstanding happens.

Rating: M (16+)

Warnings: Violence, transformation, emotional trauma to past event, implied and mentions of childhood trauma (mentions include some form of neglect the reader doesn't remember, very vague, the statement 'what did I do wrong', as well as mentioning being able to recognize a wall anywhere), struggles with self-identity, isolation in some parts, despair mentioned. (The area heaviest in implied childhood trauma and despair will be red!) Cursing, and misunderstanding between reader and Dean.

Genre: Drama, horror, minor romance.

Word Count: 2,226

Master List: Coming soon!

Dean's face paled as a familiar screech resonated through the bunker. His senses heightening instinctively as he listened for any other sound coming from your room. It was silent, too silent. The only noise echoing was the periodic crack and snap of boney limbs vibrating through the enclosed home. The environment was still, stiller than it should have been. A feeling of being hunted filled Dean as he glanced around the room, a slight shiver ran down his spine despite the warmness that resided from the stove’s earlier usage.

The two men looked at each other, an understanding passing through them. You had no way to leave the bunker, but that meant they were trapped in there with you. Dean’s eyes shot towards the sky, a silent prayer floating from his mind. Asking, no- begging, for Castiel’s help.

"Dean..." Sam whispered, gazing at the pair of long, deadly claws that were sliding onto the doorway.

Dean's eyes stared at the claws as they trailed the doorway, finding a spot to root into. "Hide." He responded, jaw clenched. He remembered how easily those claws had torn apart the witches, how easily they stabbed him. As quietly as they could, the Winchester brothers found a spot behind the kitchen counter island, waiting patiently as the low racket of snapping limbs grew louder. A low, pained whisper echoed in the room, followed by a desperate moan.

The sounds that echoed from you wretched at Dean's heart. He wanted to make himself known, to go to you, to comfort you. However, he knew that right now you weren't you. The sound of strained breathy cries grew louder as your body climbed onto the counter, a deep growl echoing from your ribcage. Dean and Sam looked up, frozen in place as they realized you had found them.

Dean's eyes followed your skeletal limbs that twisted unnaturally, animalistic paws replacing your feet, a tail twitching in anticipation.Your fangs bared at them from behind your thinned lips. Your ears were pointed, sticking out from your tangled hair. Your face was unrecognizable, hollow. Deadly.

Only your eyes betrayed you. Once filled with warmth that had brightened whenever he made you laugh; they now burned with savage rage. Dean used to be able to recognize them anywhere, but now they felt like they belonged to a stranger.

Time seemed to freeze as they watched your body prepare to pounce, your practically only skeleton form arching as a loud screech prepared itself in your throat. The air was stiff, like you sensed something. A faint warmth entered the chilled area, a comforting feeling despite the edge your presence brought. Your gaze looked forward, locking onto something. Dean couldn't see anything when he glanced where you were staring. Your body tensed as if you were backed into a corner, fur rising with a low snarl.

Suddenly, You leapt forward, claws and fangs bared as a roar echoed from you. Castiel appeared in a flap of wings, his hand already on your forehead as you lunged. Light exploded, and your body convulsed under its power. The moment the light faded; you were falling to the floor. Before he knew it, Dean caught you, pulling your body close as you shifted back to normal.

He watched as your limbs retracted into themselves, your claws shrinking to a small, sharp point but not fading past that. Another sign of your transformation. Dean looked up, eyes landing on Castiel. Confusion crossed his face as he looked at the angel. What had he done to you? How did he reverse the transformation? How did he know they needed him?

"We don't have much time." Castiel's voice was low, rough, serious. “We need to talk now, Dean.” The slight clench of his jaw was the first thing Dean had noticed, followed by the shadow of his wings still out, as if he was prepared for a fight, were all a hint towards the urgency Castiel felt. Dean felt himself tense at Cas’s words, uncertainty about what they would discuss plagued him. His body rigid as he looked down at you, hand running through your knotted hair. If Castiel knew what was going on with you, then Dean would happily listen to the angel any day.

****

A child’s sobbing echoed through the void. Anger surged when you stumbled forward, lost in the dark. “Fuck!” You shouted, practically stomping a foot to relieve any sense of frustration.

The crying only grew louder, more overbearing, as you ignored it. The empty area you seemed to reside only amplified the sound. Your brain throbbed from it as if it was echoing in your mind.

"I hear you!" You shouted, surprising even yourself with your hostility. Quickly shaking the negative feelings from your body, you spoke more calmly this time. "I hear you; I'm coming." You stretched your shoulders, seeking any strength you could as you trudged through the dark, misty space of what you could only assume was your mind. The walk to the young you was longer than it was last time, memories you had long tried to forget flashing through your mind. Someone leaving, someone hurting you- emotionally. Or…. was it physically? You could never remember these days, your own memories far too repressed to offer answers.

Finally, you found yourself, leaning against the wall of a bathroom you knew too damn well. It was the only wall in the whole expanse of this area, yet you could recognize the disgusting stains on it anywhere. You approached the young girl much more confidently this time. Having experienced this dance once before, you knew what to expect. Or, at least, you thought you did. You reached a hand out, resting it on her shuddering shoulder as she looked up at you.

"What did I do wrong?" The words fell from your lips, from your mouth, despite her being the one to say it. Confusion filled you before any rage in your body morphed into intense sadness, washing over you in a powerful wave. You could feel tears stream from your eyes as you tried to pull the young girl close, only to find yourself the one sitting against the wall, legs brought close to your chest.

You cried for what felt like ever, alone, desperate...scared. A voice calling your name broke your crying at some point, you recognized it almost instantly. You looked up to see Castiel, staring down at you with a sympathetic expression, wings out. God, they were breathtaking. But the power oozing off of them terrified you. What about the situation made him flash them? What was happening?

"Cas?" You asked, surprised to see anyone else but you in here.

"This might hurt." Was all he told you before he leaned down, pressing two fingers to your forehead.

Pain. Unmeasurable, spirit shattering agony filled your mind and body. It was like you were being torn in two, your body being taken one way and your mind the other.

****

“What the hell did you do to her?” Dean growled, protective instinct flaring. They stood in the library now, Dean pushing the couch he had set you onto closer to where he planned to sit.

"I helped her. And I helped you two." Castiel pointed out, eyes looking over the two men, then at where you rested. He knew stabling out your emotions and forcefully pulling you from your mind in an attempt to transition you back to normal risked detrimental, and most likely painful, effects. "She would have killed you had I not shown up." Castiel pointed out, gaze stern as he stared down at you.

"She?" Dean scoffed, growing defensive for you. "You know her fucking name, Cas."

"I know she has a name, Dean." Castiel retorted, standing firm as he stared at you.

"Then fucking call her that, why don't you?" Dean responded defensively. You weren't a thing; you were a person. Even asleep and under some kind of ritual spell, you deserved respect.

"Dean." Sam interrupted, expression stern. "We can argue about what Cas should call her AFTER we've figured out what's going on."

Dean's shoulders tightened, between wanting to defend you to Castiel- and to himself. He had forgotten about the fact that this was bigger than Castiel's angelic healing. Guilt gnawed at Dean. You were still his sweet girl—he knew that. But the monster that was once before him told a different story. He forced memories to his mind as a way to remember why you were still his girl. Who else would throw themselves into danger just to save some children from a vampire? Who else would-...He stared at Castiel, lips pursed as he spoke.

"You can't just tap her forehead and fairy godmother this shit away?" Dean asked despite having a feeling it wouldn't be that simple.

Castiel shook his head, "No. To be honest, I'm surprised I was even able to pull her from that state."

"What do you mean you're surprised?" Dean asked, growing more agitated as the conversation went on.

"To put it bluntly," Castiel looked between the two men, "I haven't seen this creature since the Salem Witch Trials."

"So, what does that mean?" Sam asked, concern and confusion present as he ran his hands over his thighs, sitting down only to stand back up. His body was still in a fight or flight state, only fueled by the need to help his friend. "What is a coven of witches doing transforming women into creatures from three hundred and thirty-one years ago?"

"I don't know." Castiel admitted, shaking his head slightly. "But I can tell you what I know about them."

The boys awaited his description, Dean's hand moved to tuck a strand of hair from your face, his eyes soft as he stared down at you.

"It's been a long time since I've last seen one." Castiel informed them, hands at his sides as he looked towards Sam. "From what I remember, they often came after a women died. Undead creatures born from rage, mainly after circumstances like a witch burning. They usually sought out revenge, murdering anyone who reminded them of their death."

"Then why is she turning into one?" Sam asked, looking at you.

"I don't know." Castiel sighed, gaze landing on you with concern.

"Crowley." Dean suddenly spoke up.

"What?" Sam looked at his brother, surprise evident.

"Think about it." Dean defended, hand laying against your calf, adamant to make sure you were safe the entire time you were unconscious. It was a movement, a comfort, he hadn't even realized he was doing. "His mom is a witch, he's the king of hell. He's bound to know something."

"He's right, Sam." Castiel contributed when he noticed Sam's back straightening dangerously at the idea.

"What the hell is wrong with you two?" Sam scoffed, "I can tell you so many reasons why we shouldn't call Crowley. Reason one, he tricked you multiple times, Dean." He reminded the two, exhaling in disbelief.

"He's our best bet for helping her, Sammy." Dean retorted, "What else do you suggest we do?" He challenged, despite his question, he already knew what he was going to do.

"I don't know, Dean, but we'll figure it out. She wouldn't want-"

"Don't tell me what she would want!" Dean shouted, interrupting Sam as he pointed at you. "I know what she would want. And it sure as hell aint turning into a monster every night!"

"Dean..." Castiel began when his eyes landed on your form. You had been jolted awake by the shouting, eyes wide as you stared up at Dean, lips parted as your brows furrowed. He had told you weren't a monster, that you were still you. That you were his...you quickly shook your head, eyes welling with tears as you felt your throat constrict.

Dean heard a ragged breath fall from your lips, immediately turning around to be faced with your watering eyes staring up at him.

"Sweetheart..." His green eyes softened as he took a step towards you, hand extended.

"You think I'm a monster?" You asked, lips pursing together as you fought back tears.

"No, sweetheart, I didn't mean..." Dean fell silent. What had he meant? He didn't even mean for you to hear him, much less look at him that way. He felt his heart ache at the wide-eyed expression on your face, the tears stinging your eyes as you refused to let them fall.

You shook your head, refusing to let him touch you, refusing his comfort. Why would you let him hold you after he called you a monster? Are you really a monster?

You stood up abruptly from the couch, chest tight as you stormed out of the room, ignoring Dean's call after you. He moved to chase you, to catch up to you, to offer some explanation. However, Castiel had beat him to it, pressing a hand to Dean's chest to stop him.

"Don't." Castiel warned as if he could read your thoughts, "She wants to be alone." Helplessness flashed behind Dean's eyes as he looked towards where you strode off to. The sound of the front door to the bunker closing caught his attention. His heart clenched. Dean hadn’t meant for her to hear that, hadn’t meant to push her away, but the words had slipped out, and now they cut deeper than any blade.

#dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #x reader #spn #horror #sam and dean #castiel

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