#or as Will Wood put it 'its not the things you do but something sick inside' and 'youre never gonna find somebody to replace yourself' | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

auspicioustidings · 4 months ago

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Devil's Trumpet

AKA the Appalachian horror brain worms would not leave me alone

Summary: You move to small town West Virginia to get your head on straight but the men in the woods start unravelling you instead.

Words: 3.5k

CWs: mild horror, vague reference to mental illness

This is best read while listening to some Southern gothic tunes 🎶 I suggest Big Dark Love by Murder by Death!

Colour leeched out of the world here. There is something almost comforting about that, something familiar. Familiar too is the way this town moves like syrup too thick to be pleasant in your mouth. It was how you moved though the world once. Not anymore though, no, now your mind is your own and not an invading force. Now you can appreciate the drab slowness as something external to yourself, just an environment around you and not a prison closing in inside your head.

There wasn’t much of a plan really. A will reading that left you with not a lot, but enough to get the hell out. Signing with a fountain pen that made your skin crawl with how it scratched. A stiff drink and a dart thrown at a map and tearing a ragged hole in the Greenbrier River as the sharp point didn’t quite sink far enough into the board and tore its way through the paper on the way down. You were never any good at darts.

You aren’t putting down roots. Those were for old growth, not for hardy weeds that broke through concrete and always found another crack through which to grow when killed. Nothing that felt too much like a home, so instead a room at the only inn.

This town is too small to warrant one, but it doubles as a watering hole come evening. It doesn’t seem to have been updated in an age, you wonder idly if the plaque upkept to a gleaming shine declaring the inn to have been opened in 1824 is somehow conveying pride at the fact. The peeling wallpaper in your room was probably pretty once, but the green now seems sick with age and the delicate floral pattern has started to wilt.

There is no routine to your days here until one slowly creeps in as it always does.

Breakfast first. You don’t know if it’s something in the air here, but you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and are eager to drown it in food and mint toothpaste. The inn has a small kitchenette for guest use and you make yourself toast with butter and strawberry jam. It’s a little too sweet but the tea helps, black with no sugar.

You stretch out the back of the inn and enjoy the view of the woods. You don’t call it yoga because it makes you less likely to do it, but you had learned when things were bad that quietly engaging your body in the morning was a good way to quiet your mind. There’s a little tension in the back of your neck you try to work out but it sticks there until you finish up and go back inside to shower. The hot water fixes it you think.

The first few weeks here you just sit and watch the world go by, but then you one day you decide to get up and spend some time wandering the town. It’s small, decrepit. There is the inn, a few sparse houses, one general store. The library, despite being the only venue with any chance of entertainment, is usually empty. You meet Mrs Lela Kaletaws who runs it, although she isn’t always around.

Roads here are barely holding together, but the one main road that runs out of town is at least in somewhat better condition. It runs parallel with the woods at one point, curving off just past old Mr Kleer's house. The man in question usually sits on his porch but he’s friendly enough so you don’t pay much mind to the gun.

After you’ve wandered town you make sandwiches for lunch. It isn’t much exciting, but it is routine and is filling enough that you bunker down for a nap after.

In the afternoon you go for a long walk before returning to the inn for dinner. There is a bar downstairs that opens in the evenings and serves food that while not a delicacy by any means is hot and filling. You retire to your room, read some of your book and go to sleep.

It continues that way. Breakfast, stretch, shower, wander, lunch, sleep, walk, dinner, read, sleep.

At first you only really skirt the edge of the woods, but with each passing dreary day you venture closer to the depths down the packed dirt path. The path through the woods is confusing and unmarked. Where you swore just yesterday it went to the right, today it goes to the left. Even so it must be your sense of direction, because the path always leads you past the jimsonweeds that come up to you chest before spitting you out on the road that leads to old Mr Kleer's house. The flowers are beautiful, but there is some metallic tang to their otherwise sweet scent that causes your teeth to ache.

—

More comfortable with the area now, it causes a fright when you see a man in the woods just in the corner of your eye only to snap your head around and have him vanish. You force calming breathes and keep walking. There is no such thing as ghosts in these woods.

Old man Axell calls to you from his porch as you pass, rifle butt settled on the rickety wood that you worry will collapse and left leg stretched straight out towards you like reaching for something.

“Seeing things in the woods kid?”

“I look spooked sir?”

“Like you’ve seen a Ghost I reckon.”

You give a shaky laugh at that.

“Only if ghosts come in flesh and blood and quick feet. Some man gave me a fright is all.”

“Must be out of towners” Axell says.

You do not like the way he says it. You do not like that he looks at you strangely. But you smile and nod and get on your way. He is only an old man.

—

There is someone in the woods. You feel his gaze on you, feel the dull prickle that rests on your nape from those eyes.

“We really must stop meeting like this” you say.

You have stopped trying to catch him. Now you only speak, eyes set on the dirt path in front of you. You do not think you will get a reply and when you do you shudder horribly at how much closer the voice is than you had anticipated.

“Don’t enjoy the company?”

He’s English and you frown. Out of towner. The old man must know something, but maybe you cannot begrudge him having fun at your expense. You have not made friends here.

“Enjoy company where I can see it if it’s all the same to you.”

The man laughs. It is a confusing laugh, warm and cold all at once as it bounces through the trees.

“Careful what you wish for.”

You resist the urge to turn even as his voice moves strangely, like he is swaying from one side of the path to the other.

“Must have a face like sin to keep hiding away” you say.

The next words you can feel. His breath is right at your cheek, a strand of your hair lifted by his fingers.

“Quite the opposite.”

Your heart is a prey animal running from a predator, beating wildly against your ribs as you turn to find he isn’t there. Only you certainly felt him. He leaves a sweet smell behind.

—

Sleep does not come easily that night. The rain against your window casts the moonlight strangely into your room. You spend hours watching as the creeping vines on the wallpaper seem to twist and shift beneath the moon flowers. When you finally fall asleep, it is almost as if you can smell them. Sweet and slightly metallic.

You wake up with the fading scent of damp earth and something on the edge of rot in your nose and the feel of dirt packed uncomfortably under your nails. They’re clean you find, but you spend the start of the morning cutting them down once you see the fading scratches left on your arms and legs through the night.

—

He is not the only stranger in the woods. You swore you would not go back, but routine takes you there without thought.

The Scottish man likes to walk on your right hand side, just enough steps behind you that you can only see him at the very side of your vision. You think he is handsome, but it is difficult to be sure. What you can be sure of is that he is dressed oddly. You have spoken to him for a while now, discussing yourself mostly. Perhaps it is the eerie quiet of the woods that makes you want to fill the dead space, but you tell him more about yourself than you ever would have thought yourself comfortable with.

“Are you a soldier then?” you ask.

“Sometimes, I think.”

You take a moment to chew that answer, wonder at the taste of it. There is a panic when you smell blood on the air, but it is quickly blanketed by sweetness. You have reached the jimsonweeds. It is too early, you have not walked far enough to be here already. But before you can protest the steps to your right stop and you know the man is gone.

None of them ever come farther than this.

—

You try the next day and the next to get answers from him. He seems to make a decision at one point just as the familiar smell reaches you and you think you will leave with no more information than you had before.

“I’m SAS.”

He is not there when you turn to thank him. He is not there at all when you return the next day.

—

The library run by Mrs Kaletaws is added to your routine. Breakfast, stretch, shower, library, lunch, try to sleep, walk, dinner, read, try to sleep. The small building has the peculiar addition of a cat you never quite see. You hear the skitter of claws on worn wood floor that has started to smell of sickly sweet rot, see fading scratches on the legs and arms of the chair, find hairs on your clothing, feel the prickle of eyes focused on you from the dark running up your spine to settle dully on the back of your neck. You have tried before to get a glimpse of the creature, but it only seems to exist in the very corner of your eye and retreats when your gaze tries to creep around to catch it.

Lela never talks about the cat. She told you once that it is only her and her wife that live in the basement below the library. You have never seen her wife and fear she must have some permanent sickness that stops her from being able to do much. You think they should move above ground so she can at least see the world through the windows obscured by racing raindrops, but you keep it to yourself.

The one computer here is old, the white plastic exterior now yellowed. Still, it is the only gateway to the outside world in this little town and you blow at your tea while waiting for your search results. ‘SAS military bases in West Virginia’ is a shot in the dark, but you need to start somewhere. After a sip you dump more sugar into your cup before looking at your finally loaded results.

There are none. No British military installations at all in the USA. You had hoped at least the results would bring up something about training exercises but it is just pages of useless information about bases around the world. You read about the SAS, fall down a rabbit hole of how they torture their soldiers to train them to withstand it. You go through pages and pages of search results until finally one talks about SAS soldiers in this area.

The link takes you to a dusty website that stopped being updated sometime in the late 90s. It’s some sort of conspiracy blog and you are prepared to close it, but you can’t help but get lost in the story it tells.

The details are unclear which you suppose is the hallmark of any good conspiracy. 40 years ago. There was a team of two, or maybe four or maybe seven. They set up just outside the woods with little to no explanation. There’s an interview from a local, not a name you recognise so one you think is likely long dead. She says two of the soldiers went into the woods first. She remembers something bad must have happened, because there was an argument between the five left outside. Nobody was allowed close, but she watched two more men go into the woods. After that the operation seemed to vanish entirely overnight and nobody heard anything more about it.

Whoever authored the blog has a gift with words because despite your logical mind knowing it was probably nothing but a random training exercise, the hairs on the back of your neck raise.

There is a photo of the alleged unit at the end loading slowly. You stare in fascination as line by line appears from the top. The world stops before it fully loads. At first you are confused as to why your whole body is tense, why your heart is racing. And then you figure it out. Silence. Complete and all together sudden silence. No rain hitting the windows, no scratching of the cat echoing, not even the whir of the computer.

You do not want to look away from the screen. You do not want to turn around. The prickle on your neck goes from dull to sharp.

The computer powers down.

—

He says to call him John. This man does not walk to your right like the Scottish one, or behind you like the first one you met. He walks in front of you. You can see the full expanse of his back clad in a vest. He wears a hat. He only ever turns slightly, enough to see that he has sideburns but never enough to see his face.

You are so enraptured by being able to see so much of him so clearly that it takes you a while to notice there is someone on your left. A few steps behind like the Scottish one does on your right. It takes you by surprise enough that you are about to forget the unspoken rules and turn, but John predicts your move.

“Eyes forward.”

“Sorry” you say automatically, fixing you eyes to his back and letting the other man stay as the impression of a creature just in sight of your left eye.

“They’re pretty, Captain.”

“I’m aware.”

It should not make you blush but somehow it does.

“What’s you name?” you ask.

There is no way to direct it specifically to the man on your left, so you simple direct it to the back of John and hope that the trees will send it where it needs to go.

“Captain?” the man asks, not for permission but as if genuinely unsure of the answer.

“Kyle, your name’s Kyle.”

“Right. Kyle.”

You catch the movement of him touching his chest, maybe rubbing at a name tag there but you can’t be sure.

“You can call me Gaz if you like.”

John and Gaz are your company for weeks. Whenever you ask after the other two, the air turns sweet and bloody and you are left alone among the jimsonweeds.

—

“Got intae trouble for ye.”

You’re not sure where you are but you recognise the voice. Is he in your room?

“We both did. Curiosity would’ve killed you little kitten,” comes the other voice from the first man in the woods somewhere behind you.

You hazily look down at yourself. You are not in the bed at the inn, you are in another bed laid on your back. You feel your legs brush against one another, not clad in the flannel you remembered wearing. Silk, you are wearing silk. Delicate against your skin, not much of it. Were you wearing perfume? Something smells sweet.

As you stare at the bare expanse of your leg a hand sinks into your thigh, squeezes.

“Fuck LT, so soft. Fingers just sink right in.”

You fight the urge to look to the right where the hand is coming from. You can’t look, some primal part of your brain knows you cannot look.

“Stay away from the woods” the man behind you whispers into your ear like a caress as his hands settle gently around your neck.

You do not feel the snap of bone, but you hear it. You taste the blood in your mouth.

You do not manage to fall back asleep when you wake.

—

Breakfast, library, try to sleep, don’t go into the woods, dinner, try to sleep, stare at the wallpaper, try to sleep.

—

You overhear Axell and Lela once. You think they are talking about you.

“You think we’re doing the right thing?” Axell asks.

“I don’t think there is a right thing anymore.”

“It’s been a long time now. Maybe we should let them go.”

“You think we could?”

There is a silence. Neither of them thinks so. Paranoia settles over you that you haven’t felt since back when things got bad. It’s like an old vice settling into your bones, or maybe seeping out of them as if it never truly left. You cannot go back to that place again so you take some aspirin for the rhythmic pulsing behind your eyes and the dull prickle at the back of your neck and resolve to put any thoughts of conspiracy out of your mind. Lela and Axell are simply old, there is not something they know that you do not.

—

You do not mean to walk into the woods again. The man behind you is back. He feels different somehow.

“I could eat you right up” he says against your neck.

Old Mr Kleer sees the bloodied bite at your throat and says nothing as you walk by.

—

You book a bus ticket. It feels too much like there are tendrils growing from you to burrow into the ground, to fix you here. If you don’t rip them out now, it is only a matter of time until the roots are so deep you won’t be strong enough to move. You aren’t eating properly, you’ve hardly slept and when you do you wake up with a bitter taste in your mouth and covered in scratches. There is still the shape of a bite on your throat and the B&B owners in Pennsylvania look at you with pity as you check in.

The building is charming and fairly new. You stare at the neutral pink wallpaper. One corner of it has lifted ever so slightly. You fall asleep staring at the peek of green underneath.

—

It doesn’t rain as much here, the sun is out and everything seems more colourful. Weeks pass in a haze and you slowly emerge again, eating properly, sleeping through the night. The town on the Greenbrier starts to fade to an unpleasant dream.

—

There is something comforting about the old man who comes to stay and sits by you for breakfast in the mornings. He has the remnants of a Russian accent and laughs frequently and easily. The stories he tells are fantastical, but he’s non-committal about his visit to small town Pennsylvania although he at least tells you that he likes the nature around here. He whispers that his legs aren’t up for much walking anymore, so he has to take the easy paths through small patches of nature.

It takes a week or so more to work up the courage to accompany him on a walk. It seems silly, but the woods make you feel afraid. Maybe a short walk through the small area he spoke of will help you get beyond it. You rub at your neck, feeling the marks faded but still there.

—

He notices your discomfort and tries to ease it with his stories as you walk the dirt path.

“It’s the most important thing I’ve learned you know” he says, the aching grief in his voice causing you pause, “you cannot leave friends behind.”

You turn to him, intending to ask how much longer the path leads since it is getting dark now. He is not there.

“Nik?” you ask, calm at first but increasingly more frantic.

That old familiar dull prickle settles on the back of your neck as you run back down the way you came to get out of the woods. Drooping tree limbs get in your way and you push through, ignoring the scratches. As darkness falls you slow to a walk, unable to see anything in front of you. You catch the smell the sweetness of the jimsonweeds. You can smell blood.

Foot steps that are not your own surround you. A set in front of you. One behind. To the left and to the right.

“Welcome home.”

#mhairiwrites #tf141 #tf141 x reader #sort of not really?#horror is so hard to write my god

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allfearstofallto · 8 months ago

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hii! can i make a request?

I've been thinking about angsty things a bit. say if, reader got pregnant, would she hate it? how would scara/childe react? in my opinion, id like to think that scara thinks of this as a way to tie her down to him more, plus its canon he likes kids!! and as for childe i think he'd be very very happy since he has soooo many siblings, (maybe he wants a lot of kids too??)

and..what if reader miscarried? i have this thought of where scara would still be cold to her but give her breaks and more space than usual, but what if reader completely locks herself in and then when he confronts her about it they get into a huge argument, how would scara tackle that, would he resort to abusive tactics and would it increase readers hatred & distance more?

just a brainrot, you dont have to write about it if you're not comfy^_^

This took me so so so long!! I'm so sorry if you were waiting for it!!

I don't typically write for things like pregnancy because it makes me uncomfortable, but I'd be lying if I said I do not absolutely fucking adore angst and hopelessness.

Parasite

Yandere! Scaramouche x Fem! Reader

Forced Marriage AU

TW: 18+ MDNI, Dark Content, Forced marriage, Pregnancy, Miscarriage, Mentions of Dub/Non-Con

A week late turned into two. Two turned into a month. A month turned into three. And three turned into unusual cravings for foods that didn't go together. Sickness and vomiting clouded the hours of your mornings. Dread filled your body the second you realized what this was. Stress makes your cycles late, you told yourself, stress makes your entire body change, and this was a stressful situation, but stress wasn't causing this, was it?

Scaramouche could tell the changes in you immediately. As someone who constantly kept tabs on your life, it was only fair to assume that he'd noticed your slight fluctuation in weight and lack of asking for your monthly cloths. When you were called into his office, you felt a hot flash all over your body, you assumed it was fear, but it could've also been nausea.

His office was a place filled with dread. The air in the room was too thick and worst of all, he was there. The room made you feel small, the only good thing about it was that he was usually too focused on his mile high stacks of paperwork. Except today. Today his razor sharp gaze was focused on your trembling form as you bowed to him, his eyes following down, then back up.

“Answer me honestly,” he began, hands planted on the wood in front of him, “Are you with child?”

If you could throw up again, you would. Of course, you knew all this time, but you never wanted to say it. You hoped, just hoped and prayed that maybe if you never acknowledged it, it would all go away. It would all be a bad dream. But it was true. There was something disgusting living inside you. And it was his.

“I believe so, my lord,” the words couldn't even completely fall from your lips before you were a blubbering, sobbing mess of anguish and fear. Despite the fact that you were completely breaking down before him, he had a small smile on his face, like he was proud of what he'd done to you.

“That's good,” he said calmly, wiping away your tears and planting a forced kiss upon your face. His touch felt cold as ice, but his hands against you made you want to melt your skin away.

The reaction to the “good news” was immediate, whether that was good or bad was up in the air, but everything changed. The tight obi of all the kimono you owned would put too much pressure on your budding stomach, new one's were ordered to be ready as you grew more in size. Your diet was changed completely, less of the Inazuma raw delicacies and more lean meat and vegetables. Daily classes of calligraphy and tea ceremonies were switched to resting with your feet up or light stretching, everything to keep you happy and healthy during your pregnancy.

The biggest change was Scaramouche himself. A man filled with so much hatred and disgust, was suddenly being kinder. Or trying to at least. You watch him open his mouth to make a comment, only to shut it again in favor of saying something still rude, but less insulting.

The Scaramouche that believed that he could take your body whenever he pleased was long gone, even though that was what got you in this predicament in the first place. He'd taken to leaving you in the middle of the night and going to the bathroom to sate his urges. He'd come back with cold damp hands and lay next to you, a protective hand over your stomach as he kissed your cheek and told you how much he loved you.

The day you saw blood between your legs and felt an aching pain in your stomach was a joyous one indeed. A part of you wanted to scream out in glee, but you didn't want to wake your already on edge husband. The blood that coated your fingers could only mean one thing. One good thing. It was gone. You were free of it. Almost immediately, the dark air that seemed to linger over your body vanished and you let out a sigh of relief.

Scaramouche was informed shortly before breakfast that same morning. You relayed the information to a maid, who then told him, whispering the words in his ear so quietly, it sounded like she was speaking gibberish. His face, his expression, changed to one shock, then horror, then pain. You didn't even know he could make such a face, yet there he was with tears in his eyes.

“Wh-what happened?” There was that tone again. The one you were used to. The anger and distaste for you in his voice. He slammed his fist down on the desk, turning his head away from you as his voice became high and breathy, so desperate for answers, “What did I do wrong?”

You stood in his office awkwardly, even this display from a person you hated, this display of agony was hurting you as well. You thought it would be funny. Seeing the man who pulled you from your home and forced you into marriage in pain was supposed to make you happy, but you felt your own chest clenching, felt your hands tremble.

“I-i suppose…I was stressed, my lord,” you muttered, his already labored breaths hitching at those words. The few months you were carrying that thing inside your body, was when he asked for less from you. He expected you to laze around all day and relax. For your body to fall into a daze like trance of naps and delicious food. He wanted happiness for both you and his child that you carried, yet you were still the most stressed you'd ever been in your entire life, knowing that he had something inside you. Something that would continue to fester and grow, until it eventually ate you alive.

He sat back in his office chair dejected, hurt, and empty. Scaramouche's normally sharp, glaring eyes were wide as he stared at the ceiling, body limp as he bit his lip, “Leave me,” he sighed, his voice barely above a whisper. Had it not been for the quietness of the room, you wouldn't have heard him.

Leave him you did, closing the door as silently as possible and not lingering behind. You felt yourself finally stop tensing, telling yourself that all your woes were over, for now. The thing was gone. You were happy. For once, even if unintentionally, you'd won over your captor.

#mai<3 answers #genshin #genshin x reader #yandere genshin #genshin impact #yandere x reader #yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin x reader #yandere x you #yandere x y/n #yandere scaramouche x reader #yandere scaramouche #scaramouche x reader #tw pregnancy #mdni

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loganlermanstanaccount · 1 year ago

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Rigor Mortis (part 1)

College roommate!Miguel O'Hara x reader

(AO3 Mirror) (Wattpad) Series Masterlist, Main Masterlist,

Prologue, Part 2

summary: After the breakup, you move into a new place.

warnings: no warnings! cheeky bit of angst at the end

a/n: this is me admitting that realistically, miguel would be sick of our shit.

Thank you to my beta readers, @tianyhi and @urgonnaneedabiggership (they also write Miguel fics, I highly recommend! my favourite is this series), I couldn't have done it without you guys <3

Join my taglists here <3

wc: 4.2k

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

or in the cold, crisp morn:

"These are the keys," Your new landlord hands you the copies, clinking against each other as you transfer them to a dish by the door. Your first thought is that there seem to be too many for this modest apartment: of varying shapes and sizes, and at least half a dozen. He steps through a wide archway to the kitchen, eerily clean. It's not modern by any means, the top half of a hulking brownstone some time away from college.

It’s been… a trying summer. Moving halfway across the country with your boyfriend had seemed like a great idea at the time. Younger you (barely 2 years ago) had been enamoured with the promises of city life: fast-paced, bustling, and never a dull day. Naivete and big ideas that you'd been too stupid, or maybe too desperate, to let go of. After being locked in a loop of the same 3 or 4 places, the same dozen faces - in a place as big as this, mind you - maybe your ex-boyfriend had freed you. Forced you from that halfway-home; as cold and empty as it had become; and back out into the world.

The reality was less than ideal - apartment hopping across the city for the past 4 months or so. You’d seen it all: glorified shoeboxes, fancy duplexes, viewing sublet rooms that were at least a little illegal. A box within a box within a box; coat closets rented out for double your monthly take home; and you had just about given up.

So this place seemed like a godsend: a brownstone, tucked away. Its interior is dated, but gorgeous. It had character: quirks and rich history in the brick and mortar. A fireplace tucked into the corner, window alcoves, wood panelling. Yes, the wallpaper was slightly warped with damp but it’s affordable - a reasonably priced gem that had made you jump when you saw the ad. With the overexposed and pixelated images, they didn’t do it justice.

You pad into the kitchen, running your hands on the smooth countertops. They’re bare and spotless - suspiciously so. Not many personal items, no fridge magnets, photos; nary a blanket on the sofa or half eaten plate of toast on the worktop. It’s so clean it feels staged, and it makes you squint. Isn’t there meant to be…

“I let Miguel know… he must’ve cleaned up the place-”

“Miguel?”

“The other tenant.” He pauses, boots clicking on the grain of the floorboard. “I don’t think he’ll be back until later tonight. Should give you some time to settle in.”

Nodding, you give him a small smile, and he steps out of the apartment. Your apartment.

~~~

You fill the rest of day with unpacking, putting some life into the place. You’d visited not long ago, fantasising about how you’d decorate. Something about sharing an apartment with your boyfriend for the past 2 years had done something to you: flattening and squeezing into a space not built with you in mind. How Jamie didn't like things on the walls, or how he needed the space for his textbooks, so why don't you find somewhere else to put your little stories? If his desk took up half the front room, then that makes sense, he needs it for work. But God forbid you needed a quiet space to study; what if the guest bedroom has your shit everywhere when his friends come over? A million compromises that didn't seem much like compromises: you'd give an inch and he'd take a mile. And so, the space to spread your wings without knocking over a gaudy plaque or two was very much appreciated.

You want to walk around the neighbourhood, map out the convenience stores, bodegas, community hotspots and hubs. Where's the best place to get a drink? The cheapest meal? Your usual haunts were a fair distance away, so maybe you'll make the trek and pick up waffles from Pam's, as a treat. Tired already, you slump on the sofa - a tattered old thing that can clearly take a beating. Looking around the place, something settles solidly at your chest. Contentment, maybe, a strange feeling considering the past few months. This will do, you think. This will do.

Perhaps it's not a very feminist thought, but you're not thriving . Thriving felt presumptuous, and yet coping seemed too complete a word - its implication too tidy, too neat. A mess, before; better, now…? And it didn't quite span the width and depth of the past few months; how long it had taken for the numbness to make way to anger, hot and intense - its flame fueling many a long night. And yet, maybe coping was just the way to describe your foray into this new chapter: a new year, new apartment, and whatever that brings. You had forgotten what it felt like to be alone; not lonely, but with only your own self for company. Without the ache of another person, for the first time in a while.

…except, you had a roommate. Which you had known when signing the lease, of course, but it's taken some time to sink in. What that means for you - a new person to tiptoe around and appease - you're not too sure yet. What is he like? He's out late, so maybe a chronic partygoer - sloppy drunk and vivacious, the life of the party. He might clatter into the apartment, chattering and bubbly. What do you know about him? From the apartment, as is, it doesn't tell you much. At first glance, it had looked too clean, but not unreasonably so if he had anticipated your arrival. No, it was the lack of personal effects that confused you. How long has he been living here and there aren't any pictures or knick knacks? To clutter is to be human, you think. And with the front room as blank as it is, you wonder just what kind of man he is.

It's getting late. Naturally, you do some snooping, lazily padding around in search of life. Onwards and upwards, to new frontiers: the cupboards and drawers in your new apartment.

He likes coffee, you learn. There's a fancy machine on the kitchen counter, glossy and shiny and clearly taken care of. Little packets of beans and filters line the cupboards, all with names you can't quite pronounce. The fridge is similarly well-stocked, with none of the junk food you've gotten accustomed to in the past few months. Its innards are leafy green and plush; labelled tupperware with leftovers notwithstanding. All the spices in a tray above the oven and fancy knives on the wall tell you he likes to cook, or rather, he likes to eat well. The lack of junk would take some getting used to - maybe he's a health nut? The type to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, to blend oddly coloured smoothies, and "reflect" after a long day of… dog walking or something.

You move on to the living room, running a light hand over the deep walnut of a side table behind the sofa. Again, it's oddly bare. When you tug at the drawers, it's brassy handles are solid. Locked. Kneeling, you run a hand across the larger cupboard door at its base. You pull at it, and it pops open with a click. Inside, it seems empty, save for a dusty box nestled in the back corner. With your top half almost completely inside its depths, you move it into the light.

It's old, a battered shoebox adorned with coloured sharpie - shaky drawings of flowers blossoming from its sides. The cardboard crackles when you open it. It's full of junk, mostly: half-dead pens, broken crayons, dried flowers, and little plastic toys - the kind you get from cereal boxes and happy meals. And, there's something peeking out. Confused, you dig a little deeper, to uncover a pair of… soccer cleats? They're tiny, clearly for a kid but seem barely worn, with minimal scuffing on the plastic blades.

"What the fuck are you doing?" A voice from above rumbles, and your head snaps up like a rubber band. You hadn't noticed the door open, and you are met face to face with, who you assume to be, your roommate.

He doesn't shout: tall, broad, and back straight by the door. He's got a backpack slung over his shoulder, dressed in a crisp white shirt and slacks. His name was… Miguel? Miguel crosses his arms, brows furrowed in quiet rage. Fuck.

"I was just looking for.. uhh…"

You know how it looks. It's the worst time for your brain to go blank, and you're left holding the hypothetical bag. You stand up a little too quickly, and smack your knee on the lip of the table. Half of the box spills onto the floor and you dart downwards, embarrassed.

" Shit. Sorry, let me-"

He leaps towards the floor, and you're forced behind him, as he scrambles to put everything in its place. You start to help and he stops, stock-still. As if in slow motion, his head turns to the side and he gives you a look that could kill thousands. Retreating, you shrink back, only able to watch helplessly.

" Chica tonta... ¿se crió en un rancho? ¿qué clase de persona entra en casa de alguien y toca todas sus cosas?" He's muttering something under his breath - too fast and not saying anything you can understand. Pausing, he throws you a look. "...y luego me ve como si yo fuera el que está mal- ojos grandes y bonitos como de perrito pateado...oh dios mío.-"

[silly little girl… was she raised in a barn? what kind of person walks into someone's house and touches all of their stuff? // and she looks at me like I'm the one in the wrong - big, pretty eyes like a kicked puppy… oh my god-]

He's gentle with the box, the way he puts it in its place contrasting his mood a couple of seconds before. He closes up the door and you stumble to your feet. In the glow of halogen bulbs, he follows, arms crossed like a mother hen.

"I think… I think I'm your new roommate?" You say your name and stretch out a hand, but Miguel doesn't move. You watch as his eyes sweep over your body, shameless.

"Are you asking, or telling me?" He sighs, pinching at his temples.

"...Telling?" You offer him a weak smile, and he cracks.

Softening, ever so slightly, he grumbles. "I know. I know. Mr Estévez said you would be in tomorrow, though."

"I like to be early."

"Right. Well… don't do that. Again, I mean." He clears his throat. "Don't touch my shit either. It's too… fuck , it's too late for this. I'm going to bed."

He kicks off his shoes, and all you can do is watch as he saunters off; the door to his room shutting with a resounding slam .

~~~

His name is Miguel O'Hara - not that he told you that, or anything. He hasn't spoken to you much at all, leaving you to figure out who he is and what he does from vague clues around the apartment. You don't go snooping , learning quickly from previous mistakes; but his full name on a letter slotted through the mail was fair game, you think. The most you've gotten out of him were grunts and frustrated requests to keep to your shelf in the fridge.

Passive-aggressive wasn't in his vocabulary, you’re convinced. A plethora of dirty looks in his arsenal? Sure. Plenty of vulgar swears in Spanish? Absolutely. Miguel was not, however, passive-aggressive. Just… aggressive. Not angry, of course. Upfront. Abhorred any passivity and indolence: umm-ing and ahh-ing for the sake of it.

So naturally , you were sent to kill him.

You tiptoe around the apartment, avoiding him at all costs. At first, it wasn’t on purpose, just the awkwardness of your first meeting bleeding into the next week. But you dodge and weave like an expert boxer - particularly impressive in the small space. Miguel’s in the kitchen? Suddenly, you’re not very hungry. He’s curled up on the couch for a movie? Wow, look at the time: and you're heading to bed. You can’t read him very well, and don’t trust yourself enough to look him in the eye without fear of melting under his gaze. The few short interactions you have, you crumble; a brush against his shoulder in the kitchen, or legs against his on the dining table. Not that Miguel offers a peace branch, pursing his lips when you’d make eye contact, somewhat frustrated at your theatrics. Call it cliche: you’re avoiding confrontation at all costs. It manifests itself in peculiar ways: the Shower Incident being the most memorable.

The Shower Incident, aptly named, happened not too long ago. The apartment is old , as you soon learnt, coming with its own plethora of quirks. What you had first taken as character and charm - window seats and wood panelling - also came in the form of a building half falling apart. Creaky floorboards, leaky pipes, and a distinct lack of central heating. The discounted price, that had seemed like a bargain before, clearly lacked some creature comforts… like heating. And a working shower.

As you’d been in a rush, you clattered into the bathroom; stripping in no time at all. Bare feet on the tile, and you turn the knobs at the base of the shower unit. You’re not going to pretend you know how it works, just yet, but… it’s not rocket science, is it? The brassy spout sputters; but with no luck. Groaning from the pipes makes you jump, before huffing in frustration. This is not the time; late to yet another 9.00am? You want to be different this year: organised, put together, and on time to your lectures. On your tiptoes, you peer down the shower head hesitantly, like it’s the barrel of a loaded gun. With cruel irony, it sputters to life, sending a face-full of ice-cold water your way.There’s a scream, as you scramble at the handles, scurrying out of its brunt; desperately trying to turn it off.

Unbeknownst to you, Miguel leaps out of his room towards the shouting, with a fumble and clunk of his feet on wooden floor. He’s quick , hand hovering on the bathroom door before you can register it; his voice echoing outside.

“Are you…” There’s scuffling, which you can just about hear over the pounding of the water against tiles. “Are you okay, in there?”

You wince, stepping out of the shower – legs shaky like a baby deer – as you gurgle. “...Yeah?”

“Can I –” He clears his throat. “Are you.. clothed ? Can I come in?”

You scramble for something to cover yourself, settling for a plush towel on the rack. Wrapping yourself up, you brace yourself for the grimace that's sure to be on his face. Tentatively, you crack the door open. There Miguel is, face knitted with worry.

There's a flash of confusion at the scene, and then, what you think is relief. Relief you haven't cracked your head open, most likely: the blood would be hard to clean from the grout. You feel guilty, as you've probably broken it, or touched something you shouldn't. The shower is still on; sputtering, starting, and it becomes a strange sort of background music to your silent exchange.

"I don't know how to use the shower." You say with a small voice, guiltily.

" No me digas…" No shit, he mutters, face back to the furrowed brow you're starting to become more familiar with. He sighs, easing up. "You hurt?"

You shake your head, and swear you see a small smile on his face. You looked like a waterboarded rat, probably: big watery eyes and shaking with the sudden cold.

A mess , he thinks. But not a bad view.

He's still in workout clothes from his morning run, compression shirt and lazy shorts that hug his ass on; as he turns towards the shower. With some sense of shame, you try not to stare, to not watch the muscles of his back and arms flex as he angles the shower head away from his face. It's not enough that you've embarrassed yourself – twice, in the space of a couple of days – but the fact it was in front of your roommate, who is maybe the most beautiful person you've seen up close. Which, granted, narrows the field; but Miguel is gorgeous, a flash of pink tongue sticking out as he concentrates, wide palms toggling the dial.

"You need to be careful… push it in slightly when you turn the-" You crane your head towards his movements. "Come closer, or you won't see what I'm doing."

You move towards him, half naked and shivering, trying not to buckle with the heat of his body next to yours. This is what you get for not having spoken to a man since your ex: a tight coil at the base of your stomach for someone that you've done nothing but unwittingly terrorise for the past week.

He explains, patient and even-tempered; how to use the shower and you half-zone out to the low tone of his voice. There's no malice, or pomp in his words when there are a million things he could make fun of you for - that Jamie may have made fun of you for. You look up, at the sharp lines of his face, and chew at your lip, deep in thought.

"...and this side is for hot water. Next time, just ask me – instead of almost drowning."

You nod, embarrassed. "Sorry."

"...For what?" He says, softly. "Place is falling apart, anyway. It's not really your fault." You're convinced everything you touch in this house breaks, but with the way he looks at you, you believe him.

"Just ask me, next time." He echoes and makes for the door, stopping to drag his eyes up and down your frame. Oh… oh. You like that, the way he looks at you shamelessly, practically undressing you.

He smiles, amused at your deer-in-headlights expression.

"...I think that's mine."

He nods to the towel wrapped around your body and your eyes bulge out of their sockets. " Fuck , I didn't realise-"

He shrugs, noncommittal.

"...Seems like you need it more than me, anyways."

~~~

It's a rough first couple of days, and then a week, and then two. The rhythm is all off: like the jerky stop and start of an old car. He wakes up early to go on runs at the ass-crack of dawn, and you stay up late to finish papers and assignments. He has a job, you think, darting out at the same time once or twice a week in smart clothing and a backpack. Sometimes, you catch him hunched over a laptop or scribbling something in a beat up old notebook. Maybe, he’s a student - even if he doesn’t seem quite like the fresh-faced 19 year olds you see around campus. Although, you suppose it’s not implausible; you were one of the older people in your classes, after all. It’s hard to imagine O’Hara, stony-faced and serious, at a… dorm party, or something. To be that carefree, he’d need to get rid of that stick up his ass, first.

You’ve got a day off from lectures, using the time to catch up on the reading you should’ve done over a hectic break. The list seems to go on and on, already, this early into the year. Internally, you’ve made a promise to be on top of it all - the little hiccup with Jamie, notwithstanding. You’d knuckle down this morning, reading ( scanning) and summarising ( liberal use of the copy-paste function) in preparation for the rest of the semester. Miguel’s locked up in his room, somewhere, so you use the opportunity to spread out onto the dining table.

There’s a knock at the door that makes you look up from the muddle of words on your screen.

When you open the door, there’s a woman there with a notebook in hand. She’s pretty, in a classic sort of way, ginger braids cropped to her shoulders and lips slathered with gloss. Her outfit is relaxed, but carefully curated: a tight jumper and long brown legs stretching out from a black skirt.

“Hi.” She says, visibly keening. It’s clear she wasn’t expecting you, but she quickly recovers and gives you a blinding smile.

“...Hi,” Honestly, you’re a little confused. You haven’t seen her around the complex before; so who she was, you hadn’t a clue. Too pretty to be a door-to-door salesman, and too hot to try to convert you to Mormonism, you think. Whatever that means.

You wait expectantly, as a beat passes.

“Oh!” She laughs, and it sounds like puppies and rainbows, much too bright and airy considering the time of day. It makes her next words even more of a shock. “I’m looking for Miguel.”

With her last words, she steps a little closer; scanning the apartment from her vantage point. Something in you bubbles up, but you try to choke down the laughter.

“You’re looking for...Miguel?” Even out of your own mouth, it sounds absurd . The man had no friends, as far as you could tell. He seemed like the type to lock himself away in his enclosure, only stepping out for work, school, the bare minimum. In the short week that’s passed, his ‘enrichment time’ had consisted of a dry documentary on spider mating cycles - which had been a shock to walk into, the first time.

So someone here, at the apartment? Looking for him? Fidgeting, you scratch at your neck. “Uhh, I ca-”

“Sorry about that, Jia. You can have a seat.” His voice comes from behind you, and Jia breezes into the apartment, perching on the sofa. Legs crossed, she reaches into her bag, taking out a laptop and a pen and paper. He’s changed out of his workout clothes, donned in a loose white sweater and casual trousers - relaxed, for once. With a limp thud, you close the door. There’s an odd feeling as you look around at the scene: tension, and you feel like you’re interrupting. Miguel clatters around in the kitchen, fumbling for mugs and coffee filters and God knows what else.

“...was it two sugars, or three?”

“Three!” She throws over her shoulder, tapping away at her open laptop. “I like it sweet, Miguel.”

You squint. He laughs : a small chuckle that comes with a heat at the base of your stomach. Your head almost aches, trying to recalibrate; reconcile with the version of the person you’ve barely seen around the apartment to now - present, engaged, and personable. Exasperated is the only word for it. Miguel O’Hara was, in fact, capable of joy. Dickhead.

He barely acknowledges you, but Jia does; batting her wispy eyelashes in your direction, curious. The tapping stops, and she curls the corner of her mouth up with a hint of a smile.

“You gonna introduce me?” She calls out to Miguel, and then smiles to you; warm and genuine. It makes you feel a little more at ease. You catch the end of a sigh coming from the kitchen.

“Jia, this is my roommate.” He glances up to gesture towards you. “...this is Jia. I… help her out with work, sometimes.”

From the couch, she rolls her eyes. “He’s too modest. He’s my tutor, technically.”

With that, your eyebrows shoot up. Of everything you’d imagined him doing, tutoring students wasn’t one of them - especially considering he seemed barely out of college himself.

“...Technically?”

“He doesn’t like to advertise it, because he’s picky with his clientele.” She giggles and he scoffs. You get the feeling there’s a joke flying over your head, just out of reach. “Word gets out on campus that Miguel’s tutoring again…”

“ Vale, vale ,” He grumbles, but his tone is good-natured and light. “S’enough, Jia.”

She gives you a wink, before turning towards her work.

You walk towards your things, still on the dining table. He’s got his head buried in a kitchen cabinet and you look on, wanting to ask a lot of things. The words seem to die in your throat: too big, too small, not the right shape. She's a stranger; that knows where the coffee’s kept and the best spot on the couch. That makes Miguel laugh . You want to ask him about the stranger in your home; but you’re too scared he’d turn and point the finger at you.

He walks to the couch, balancing two cups of coffee. You look back. Next to him, her presence is an oddity - a blip in his carefully crafted universe. With the warm sheen of familiarity, she nudges his shoulder. Taking careful sips, he pointedly ignores her, tapping a finger at her screen - as if to say, pay attention. She smiles, wide; an asteroid across the depths of space, dazzling and brilliant in the night sky.

The exchange… it makes you think. If Miguel is the Sun, and Jia, a bright body in orbit: what’s your place in this four-walled cosmos? Where do you belong?

Rigor Mortis Taglist: @bunnyrose01 @lavenderslemonade @tsukkie-daisuke @malxoxo @thekidscallmebosss @vvitcxen @theyoutubedork @doublevirgogirl @jnghs @taleiak @noblesavagex @cumikering @rebeccawinters @evanpetersrightbigtoe @saucypeanuttt @pix-stuff @maliarenee @truthuntolddd @honeycovered-bandaids @aiyaaayei @aeeliy @amplsblog @sikrettt @opuffmango @spear-bitch @maddielikesmoths @lemonpepsi @sweet-strawberryhoney @lacedinweb22 @bubbsby @jing5uan @ellaandorersoct @hibarbiesblog @valentxi @kittym1ka @delulu-dia @melovetitties @yohoe-hoe @acollectionofcells1 @froggi-mushroom @thund3rthighs

@teacoffeeflavored @chuuyara@qiapia@rotten-zombi3@bonbyon @tianyhi @noelsilly @frieddesigninspiringquotesslime @peachsteven @thesquidni@fatenpara @verr-uckt @kurakasabe @kamiko32 @mushy-mushroom04@izzys-hawttea@theandromedastar @wicked-futures @truthuntolddd @prettygirlpattinson @hellokittylover202 @angel-eyes05 @lacedinweb22 @starguiders @buggiecrawls @eugeab @tarjapearce @whoreloll @path0logicalpeoplepleaser @ancientbeing10 @shartythefarty@royalhearts

@bonthebunnie @natthernandez @strawberrymiguel @twwcs @mammonispunk @um-well @renn-pumkin-head @ietherealkistar @smallishbook

#miguel o'hara x reader #across the spiderverse #miguel o'hara #miguel o hara x reader #spiderman 2099 #spiderman 2099 x reader #eventual smut #angst #kat_writes😼

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sunflowergirl522 · 1 year ago

Text

Fairy Circles

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Fairy!Reader

Summary: Eddie accidentally traps you in his lunchbox and takes you home with him.

Word Count: 2545

Fairy!Reader Masterlist

Eddie eyes up the wooded area next to the trailer park from his van before sighing and grabbing his stash from the passenger's seat. He’s been trying to smoke less for the last couple months knowing Wayne’s been getting sick of the smell, but it had been a long day. It seemed like everyone in Hawkins car had an issue and they were down a man at the garage and on top of that he’s been having phantom pains on and off all day in his scars. And the weed always helps, so he turns the van off and crosses the park.

He’s not paying attention to where he’s walking, too busy searching for the blunt he knows he rolled yesterday. Which is what leads him to almost stepping in the fairy circle that definitely wasn’t there a couple of days ago. It’s only when the slight tinkling sound reaches his ears that he looks around.

“Shit!” Eddie moves his foot that was about to be set down on the other side of the mushrooms sprouting from the ground back to safety before taking a giant step backwards. The tinkling stops as soon as he does, causing him to look around for what could have been causing it. When he doesn’t see a cause for it he glances back at the decently sized circle of mushrooms that seem to have sprung up overnight.

He’s never seen a fairy ring in real life before and he has to admit he’s intrigued. Just not enough to risk stepping into it. He knows all about the different outcomes that could come from it, and the last thing he wants is to get trapped there or dance until he dies. So instead of investigating it, which he wants to do oh so badly, he turns to go around it.

The light shining off of his rings is what had initially drawn your attention to him. And when he was about to step into your circle you couldn’t contain your excited laughter from your lounging spot on the moss growing on a branch of the oak tree above the circle. You feel like you’ve been waiting ages for someone to come across it and dance with you. You even got up and moved to get a better look at this, as you came to realize quickly, pretty human man. And when his foot stops just as it was going to cross the boundary and he takes a step back you grow the most aggravated you’ve been in a long time.

You cross your arms and stomp your feet as you pace in an angry circle, cheeks puffing out. You let out a tiny yell that gets absorbed in the wind and kick the part of the branch pointing up that you were leaning on to get a better look. Your eyes catch on the acorns on one of the thinner branches under you. You have to pull with all your might, and you go somersaulting backwards once you rip it off, but you get it with a proud smile on your face.

The rustling of the leaves only catches Eddie’s attention for a brief moment before he shrugs it off and keeps walking to his designated smoking spot, a hunters' platform he found his freshman year of high school and has yet to see anyone actually hunt on.

“What the-” It’s when an acorn hits and bounces off of the top of his head that he spins around and looks up at the tree, brown eyes becoming slits as if that’ll help him spot the culprit. When he doesn’t see anything he chalks it up to just nature running its course instead of a fairy throwing something at him and scoops up said acorn before continuing on his way.

You follow him, becoming intrigued even more by him once you watch him put the acorn in the thing he’s carrying and wanting to know what else is inside immediately. Once he’s situated on the platform in a tree you hover for a while watching in awe as he brings his weird stick to his lips and inhales before exhaling and leaning his head back against the trunk of the tree. You enjoy how the dying sunlight glints off of his rings and the ink on his newly exposed arms.

Once he throws his fire starter back into his box you fly over to it landing just next to it, staying crouched so as not to be spotted. Once you see his eyes are closed again you stand and grab onto the top to peek inside. The pretty blue crystals scattered on the opposite side immediately draw your attention. After seeing the man preoccupied you dart inside to get a better look. They’re all different shapes and bigger than your head and you can’t help but think you’ve found treasure.

Eddie puts his roach out against the platform before putting it back in his lunchbox to throw out later and shutting it. He slings his jacket over his shoulder and grabs the box’s handle before climbing down to head back home.

You don’t notice the stub of the stick he had fall in behind you, too distracted with turning one of the more ball-like gems around in your hand, until you get overwhelmed with an odd earthy smell and notice the lid shutting. It’s immediately being moved and knocking you onto your ass. You huff before standing, finding purchase on a smaller less solid red and white box, and flying up to try to push on the lid to try to open it. After several failed attempts you land back on the constantly slightly tilting ground and let out a scream. One that stays hidden from Eddie’s ears due to the metal blocking it and the distance from his lunchbox to his ears.

You should have never gotten into this trap! Because of course that’s what this was, the intriguing pretty human and the gems were all a ploy to capture you. You feel so stupid and your anger boils up as one of said gems slides to your feet. You kick it into the wall enjoying the echoing noise it makes. You enjoy it so much that you continue to kick and throw the things in your prison, stomping all over the green clumps and snapping the arm of the little statue off. As soon as your prison stops moving and finds solid ground you rush to start banging on walls.

Eddie hears the constant dinging coming from his lunchbox just as he’s pulling his pajama pants on. He sits at the chair in front of his desk before sliding it in front of him, successfully knocking you on your ass again, and opening the lid up. He’s immediately met with the sweet smell of strawberries, which is definitely not what it should smell like. His eyes go wide when he sees you sitting there arms crossed and slightly glowing in the midst of the chaos that is his lunchbox.

“Woah.” You look up at the sound of his voice catching the shocked look on his face briefly before you’re shooting up and out of the box you were stuck in. You hover there for a second before seeing your way back outside next to him and flying straight into a wall of some sort.

“I gotcha!” Eddie catches and cradles you in his hands as you bounce off of the window. You can’t be taller than three inches and your wings, which tickle the slightest bit as they brush against Eddie’s palm, remind him of a butterfly. Your dress looks delicately made out of the petals of some purple flower and he wants to admire the craftsmanship. And he would if you hadn’t flown out of his hand to hide behind his lunchbox as soon as the shock of flying into the window wore off.

He’s still in so much shock that there’s a real living fairy in his room that it doesn’t register how scared you might be after being shut in his lunchbox until you’re scurrying away from him.

“Oh god, I’m such an idiot. You must be so scared, hold on.” He gets up and you peer around the corner to watch him as he digs around in a drawer, the softness in his voice gaining your interest. When he sits back down you go back to hiding only hearing the beads he drops in between your hiding spot and himself. “Here, I don’t want to hurt you, I swear.” He pushes his chair back and crosses his arms so you know he’ll keep them to himself and waits for you to come out.

You think about it for a couple minutes before poking your head around the corner again looking at his new position before at the small offering in front of you. The pretty beads make you smile and you clock the human in front of you again before making your way to them. Eddie’s transfixed as you walk out from your hiding spot and kneel to pick up and admire the beads.

“Sorry for shutting you in my lunchbox. Right hand up to god I didn’t even know you were in there.” Your attention goes up to him and Eddie catches himself holding his breath for your reaction. You can tell he’s telling the truth, you’ve always been good at that, so you just shrug and go back to your beads. You don’t even flinch when his hand goes up with his choice of wording. He notices and decides to test his luck and move his chair back to where it originally was. All you do is look at him and tilt your head to take him in. He has very pretty eyes, if you were a more violent fairy you’d want to pluck them out of his head. The thought makes you giggle and Eddie recognizes it as the tinkling sound from earlier.

“That was you earlier, I was about to step into your circle.” He’s beaming at you and getting excited. It’s admittedly contagious as you nod and smile at him before remembering how he ruined your fun by not stepping into it. Your smile drops and you cross your arms as you look at him. He notices and goes to reach into the box pulling out the acorn from earlier.

“Did you throw this at me?” You nod once pouting. “Well I’m sorry for not stepping in. I’ve just heard and read stories about what could have happened and didn’t want to risk it. But you seem very nice and I’m sure you wouldn’t have kept me trapped there forever.” You shake your head rigorously. You really just wanted to dance with someone for a bit, you’ve felt so lonely recently. And you had forgotten completely about how some fairies will do things like that.

“What were you doing in my lunch box that got you shut in anyway?”

“Oh!” Eddie doesn’t hear your exclamation, just sees your mouth form it before you’re standing and climbing into his lunchbox. He only has to wait a couple seconds until you’re throwing out his D20 dice and rolling a nat twenty without meaning to. When you fly out you have his D4, D8, and D10 balanced in your arms. You drop them where the D20 rolled and beam while gesturing with open arms at them.

“My dice?” You nod even though that’s an odd name for gems.

“They’re pretty.” To Eddie your words are a little like small bells but the way you stare at them has him agreeing with you anyway.

“You’re a pretty little thing aren’t you?” Once again you look up at him but this time you really take him in, from his long hair to his pretty brown eyes to the scars on his neck, chest and torso. Under your studious gaze he suddenly remembers that he never put a new shirt on and starts to fidget with self consciousness.

“I should finish getting dressed.”

“What are those from? Somebody hurt you?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying darlin’ but if it’s about the scars you don’t have to worry about it. I got them a while ago.” He winces as the phantom pains decide to pick the worst moment of his life to return. And suddenly he’s feeling the bites all over again just slightly less painful. You fly over to hover in front of him as he rubs the ones on his chest and grimaces. You start to panic not liking watching the human who gifted you such beautiful beads and showed you kindness and called you pretty go through whatever this is.

“Let me help.” You fly closer to his ear hoping it’ll help him hear you. After you fly back to see his reaction you find his eyes wide at hearing your voice before he nods an okay. With his permission you fly closer to where he’s rubbing and trying to get it to go away, placing your tiny hands on the scars and starting the healing process you normally just do for animals or plants. After so long of it not working how you want it to because you can’t cover enough surface area you aggravatedly sigh and back away for your next move hoping it’ll work better.

One minute you’re this small fairy in front of him and the next you’re human sized, glitter falling to the floor where you stand from your use of magic. He barely has time to take you in before your hands are on his chest again, a sort of glow emitting from your connected skin as you try to heal him. It works, the pains fade but Eddie’s not sure if that’s because of you or well you.

Your hands are cooler than he would have expected them to be. And now he can really see the curves that make up your form and the gorgeous eyes that he could only barely make out the color of before. You’re pretty as a pixie but as a human you’re like nothing he’s ever seen, you’re plain ethereal.

“Better?” Your voice sounds different than in your smaller form and Eddie immediately falls in love with it. All he can do is nod as you look up at him, because even in your bigger form you’re shorter than him, and you take your hands off of him. You giggle as you see the glittery dust in the shape of your hands on his skin where you were using your magic. It’s Eddie’s new favorite sound because on top of it being an actual laugh there’s still the slight tinkle in it from when you’re fairy size. “Good.”

Before Eddie can say anything else you’re poofing back into fairy size, leaving more glitter behind, and flying over to the desk to pick up all the beads you can carry. After that you fly over to the window touching the glass with your foot wondering how to get out.

“Let me get that.” Eddie comes over and opens the window watching you while he does so. “Will I see you again?” You just shrug before flying out and heading back home.

Eddie Taglist (27/40): @sadbitchfangirl @notbeforelong @navs-bhat @emotionaldreamer @gaysludge @eddiethesexy @mazerunnerrose @midnightsgetawaycar @mushroomelephant @saramelaniemoon @nojamsonmytoast @vintagehellfire @esoltis280 @spikedhe4rt @siriuslysmoking @toobsessedsstuff @alana4610 @gretavanfleas @sparkletash @aactuaaltraash @spookyemorockbabe @jesssssmaybankk @tlclick73 @eddiemunsonslittlemetalhead @bl4ckt00thgr1n @eli-flower @canyonmooncreations

Everything Taglist: @matchamunson @bubsonnobx @practicalghost @katsukis1wife @crustyowos @yourfavdummy @protecteddiemunson4vr @kennedy-brooke @m00nkn1ghts @rory-cakes

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson #eddie munson x fairy!reader #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson stranger things #stranger things #stranger things 4 #stranger things imagine

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henry7931 · 5 months ago

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I Don’t Want To Go Back

Bradley:

I’m sitting in the doctor’s office and I feel butterflies in my stomach. All I can is look down at my legs and feet— well I guess Luke’s legs and feet. They are his in the first place but I now control them.

I’m waiting on a response from the doctor who’s helping my big brother Luke and I with our situation. He’s with Luke right now in the other room who’s in my body.

From what I can understand, one of us gave the other some kind of sick that caused everything. All I know is that, one night I went to bed as me and the next morning I woke up as Luke.

That night, Luke was doing his workout when I walked in to his room. I was trying to ask him if he could help me out something.

“What do you want twerp? Can’t you see I’m busy?”

“Suh—sorry Luke! I just wanted to get some help with—”

Before I could even ask him anything he got all angry with me and pushed me out of his room.

Then the next morning happened…

I remember waking up and feeling strange, but it wasn’t until I sat up and saw Luke’s big feet and hairy legs that I knew I wasn’t myself.

The next thing I noticed was Luke’s morning wood, i learned quickly that morning that he does not go to bed in PJs.

I looked down at the hard wiener amazed by its size, I touched it and it sent sparks through me.

It took me a second to fully focus but I eventually got up and went to the bathroom.

That’s where I realized that I am now my brother Luke.

Seeing Luke’s reflection in the mirror made me feel nervous and excited. I had so many questions.

But then I felt something for the first time, confident! I feel so confident in this body.

I stood in front of that mirror for awhile until I heard a loud voice hollering.

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON!”

I peak out of the bathroom door and saw my body rushing down the hallway angry.

But the second we made eye contact, he froze in one spot.

“Bradley… is that… are you me?,” he said to me.

“Yeah it’s me, are you Luke?” I asked him back.

I thought he was going to be nice to me for a second but nope!

Like charged down the hall and almost like he was going to lunge for me. Before he could get to the door, I quickly shut it which caused him to crash into it.

A locked the door, scared of what he was going to do. Then I remembered something, I’m the one with all of the strength now! I opened up the door and Luke was on the ground still trying to get back up.

“You little shit! You did this! I don’t know how but you did this!” he said to me.

All of the sudden, my dad came out of his room.

“Boys! What’s going on here?”

“Your son over here took my body!” said Luke.

“I didn’t take it Luke! I promise!! I’m just as confused as you,” I said crossing my now bigger arms.

“Can someone clue me in on what’s going on? And Luke can you please get some clothes on!”said my dad.

We sat down with him after I put on a pair of pants and explained what happened that morning.

He didn’t believe us at first but after a call with a speciality doctor, my dad’s eyes got wide and then he hung up.

“Boys, I’ve some good news and bad news.”

“What’s the good news?” said Luke.

“Well this is a rare situation to happen but you’re not the first ones ever. And you’re both physically fine other than uh… well.”

“Come on dad! What did they say? Are we stuck like this?”

“Well they want to run some test but that won’t happen until next week.”

“NEXT WEEK?!? BUT I GO ON MY BEACH TRIP NEXT WEEK!!”

“I’m sorry but you have to cancel Luke!”

“Fuuuuuuckkk this! I’m going upstairs!”

Luke stormed away from the table while I stayed back.

“Sorry bud that’s he’s so upset, you know it’s not directed at you right?”

“I guess so,” I said back.

“Do me a favor for right now, just stay clear of him for right now.”

“I promise I will!”

The next few days changed me a lot. It started out with Luke and I having to switch out all of our stuff. My dad wanted us to at least pretend to be each other for the time being so I got Luke’s room, clothes, even his cellphone (which made him the most mad).

I even learned a lot as well. Like how to work out, what being a 19 year old is like, my dad’s started to teach how to drive.

But what I find interesting is all of the things i like about my new self.

Like my new feet! I love the way they look, my dirty socks, the way they smell after a long workout— it makes me so hard!

I’ll take pictures of them and even put my face into them after a long day!

I also love my muscles! I feel so powerful with them!! Even my friends are into them.

Well once again, technically Luke’s friends. Specifically Seth, who I talk to everyday. We go back and forth sending pictures of ourselves. I think he likes me, a lot! I like him too, a lot lol.

He even told me last night.

Texts:

Seth: Dude, I wish you told me how you feel. I would have made a move a long time ago. But if you want to keep this on the DL, I’m cool with that. But as long as we have our fun on the beach trip.

Bradley: We are going to ALOT of fun on the trip I promise!

Seth: Well could you send me a little teaser? Maybe a body pic 😈

Bradley:

Seth: Hot!!🥵

Bradley: Do you like feet?

Seth: …

Seth: If I have to be honest, I’d never tell anyone else this but yes. I do indeed have a foot fetish.

Bradley: I took this one earlier 😎

Seth: Well since you’re showing off 😛

Bradley: You have really nice feet!

Seth: Oh do I? I’ll let you do anything with them on the trip.

Reading that text from Seth made me instantly hard!

I talked to him for a while and this morning but I’m so nervous to find out what’s going to happen!

Are they going to give me something that will put Luke and I back in our bodies? I can’t go to my body, not before I go on my trip with Seth!!

A knock was at the door.

“Bradley, can I come in?”

The doctor came in and I felt like I was about to puke!

“Hey, sorry that took a little bit. Your brother doesn’t seem that happy. How are you with all of this?”

“Me? Oh I’m good, just an adjustment.”

“Well you seem to be taking it better. You know this is very rare. Unfortunately, this is something so new even to us. I wish I could tell you things are going to be back to normal soon but…”

“Wait, are you saying this is forever?”

“Well, I wouldn’t say forever. I guess I’ll just go ahead and say it. This is a lab made disease that somehow got to either you or your brother. We don’t have a cure for it at this moment. So I’d highly advise you, your brother, and your father to try and make this your new normal for the time being.”

“Oh wow! I can’t believe it!”

“So you’re good to go—”

I hopped up and immediately went for the door. As I walk out, I see Luke with his head turned down.

“Hey, you okay?”

“No…”

“Well cheer up! That body isn’t so bad,” I say messing up my former hair.

“ Easy for you to say!”

“I’m sorry Luke but we are gong to have to accept this for now. Sides, I’ll be a good big brother to you. I promise.”

Luke looked up at me and for the first time in a while he had the tiniest smile.

Two Days Later:

“Flex on em Luke,” says Seth as he takes a picture of me.

I walk up to him and say, “You have the bigger muscles why don’t you show them off.”

He grins and says, “I only show them off for you.”

“Hey do you wanna sneak up real quick while none of the other boys notice?”

“I thought you would never ask!”

We run up the stairs and as soon as we’re out of eyesight Seth pulls me in and kisses me.

“Come on inside Luke, I’ll let you play with these piggies,” he says wiggling his toes in my face.

“Can you do that thing you did last night with them?”

“You want another foot job?”

“Yep!”

“Oh boy! You’re lucky you’re so cute!”

#body swap #male body swap #male tf #brothers

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postnutperfection · 8 days ago

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What’s frustrating about the whole Perverts title issue is that it really boils down to people sticking their noses where it doesn’t belong. If everyone minded their damn business on the internet this wouldn’t even have to be a conversation. Its ok to be a lukewarm fan of someone, but I think TikTok has made it feel like you either have to stan someone and be a keyboard warrior in their defense 24/7 or you can’t like them at all. The whole “debate” gets to a point where it feels like im talking to a wall! Even if you didn’t listen to the rest of the album, you have to scroll to find Strangers! Did you not see the literal song titled August Underground on the way there! Hard Times is about CSA! Strangers is literally about her getting eaten! She literally gets cannibalized! I feel that maybe perchance the whole concept of Preacher’s Daughter should be more shocking then an album called PERVERTS

and I know, i knowwww, this has something to do with those motherfuckers on booktok romanticizing every sick and abusive asshole thats somewhat conventionally attractive. I’m sorry but correct me if im wrong but Strangers (at least to me) is not a love song. While Ethel may have loved him and while she may not feel hatred or resentment towards him lets be honest he did not eat her because he loved her, he did it because he is a bad person who does bad things and took advantage of a girl who has known nothing other than abuse. He groomed her and moved her across the country only to drug her and pimp her out and then when he was bored of her he killed and ate her.

I’m just so sick and fucking tired of these stupid ass motherfuckers thinking that they have the media literacy of Jesus H. Christ himself and that think they’re sooo fucking smart when in reality all you have done is taken a BEAUTIFUL and HEARTBREAKING piece of ARTWORK and watered it down for mass consumption. All you’ve done is slapped a pretty little label on it and put it on a shelf to sell to the masses and now the meaning and intention behind it will wither away. Don’t get me wrong, I love TikTok, I think it’s a great place to learn and share and create and find new interests but it gets to a point where it feels like its just a giant cesspool of braindead people talking about how a wood flooring is so “ethel cain lana del rey coquette naturecore maximalist anti-millennial grey girl boss power move”

I know this probably ended up being a incoherent ramble that says a lot and nothing at the same time but I really just had to get it off my chest because holy fuck you guys lets use our brains! hellooo lets lock the fuck in and really do our best to have some sort of competent level media literacy

#holy fuck yall #this doesnt make sense #sorry in advance #if you read this all thank you #ethel cain #mothercain #preachers daughter #ethel cain perverts #hayden anhedönia

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painted-flag · 5 days ago

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OF FLOWERS AND DEATH - aemond targaryen

Chapter 14: The Saphire

☾⋆⁺₊✧ dark elf!Aemond Targaryen x f!human!reader series. ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series masterlist. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ word count: 3.4k ✧₊⁺⋆☾ series warnings: 18+ depictions of violence/gore, eventual smut, warfare, sickness/disease, some moments of misogyny, and mentions of alcohol consumption. ☾⋆⁺₊✧ Under a canopy of stars, you forge a bridge of companionship with the elf king.

The soft light of the rising sun illuminated the tops of the rocky snow-capped mountains. The sun had not risen enough to shine on the meadow you were camped in, but the subtle light of the sky brushed the ground. Dew settled on the grass that moved with the breeze. The guards had woken up and made food. You broke your fast with them and enjoyed the calm small talk they provided. During that time, your eyes would occasionally glance over to Aemond’s tent, but he had yet to emerge.

After eating, you had begun a general sweep of the area. You had no idea what you were looking for, as your father’s notes were vague. All he mentioned was that the properties of Lake Rosemagne were rumoured for its healing capabilities. Whether or not those rumours were true, that had yet to be discovered. When you passed by a fallen and hollow log, you noticed some ground beetles scurrying about.

You had thought back to the promise you made with Helaena and crouched down. You pulled a small wooden box with holes from your bag and opened the lid. Your hands delicately picked two up and put them in the box. You closed the lid and slid the metal lock to secure it.

“I did not know beetles were used in healing,” Aemond’s voice, abrupt as it was, startled you. The box almost dropped from your hands. You placed it in your bag and stood up while brushing the skirt of your dress.

“No, your grace, they are not used in anything.” You clarified, “I promised Princess Helaena that I would catch anything that she may like. She mentioned these beetles many days ago during one of our lunches together.” You crossed your arms. Aemond looked at you, his eye filled with something soft and indecipherable.

“I was told we would be leaving on the morrow because you have duties to get back to. Forgive me, your grace, but why would you come along when you are so busy?” You questioned.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, “Well since you so easily snuck out of my castle, I thought it best that I come to make sure you don’t do it again. If you’ve slipped past my guard once, you could do it again.” You took in his words for a moment. The idea of sneaking into the woods was ridiculous, but it did leave a bit of satisfaction that it had managed to get under Aemond’s skin.

“Oh, so you do care if I stay?” You teased. You could have sworn you saw his eye roll, but you had begun to look down at your fidgeting hands. The conversation you had with Aemond the evening prior had played in your head countless times as you had tried to go to sleep. It was another instance of a conversation with him turning sour. That seemed to be a common habit, whatever words the two of you exchanged had an equal chance of becoming venomous or ending well.

“Only for you to fulfill your end of the deal. A year of looking for a cure and then you can go.” Aemond said. You nodded and then moved to watch the water.

“Do not worry, you won’t have to tolerate me for much longer with how well things are going. I’ll be out of your way soon.” You reassured him. It was true. If things went as swiftly as they were going, with your access to the elf’s resources and their wisdom and help, a cure seemed tangible in the near future. You may even be looking at a window of time shorter than the year you were granted. When you had originally taken the offer, you thought a year was not nearly enough time, but now that had changed.

“I suppose you will.” Aemond’s tone had dropped and he took on a contemplative face. He then straightened his back and spoke, “I’ll leave you to it then.”

Aemond had gone back to his tent. You had waited for a moment, wondering if he was going to stay there for the day. His explanation as to why he came with you did not add up. If he was worried you would sneak away, why was he avoiding you so much?

There was no point in trying to understand him. Even if you somehow lived as long as elves, you doubted you could ever come to understand him in that time. No amount of conversation could unwrap the enigma, so you decided to go about your day.

It had been hours spent, collecting an array of samples. Everything from blades of grass to the twigs of branches from trees that lined the meadow were collected. Since you were only there for a day, you knew you had to get as much as you could.

Just as the sun had begun to wane, you kneeled in front of the water with some empty vials. You filled six of them and corked the tops. You held one up to the light and watched the swirling of a bunch of minerals in the water. They shimmered in the light. You then put them securely in a bag and got up. You made the walk back to camp which was only a short while from the lake. Some of the guards were sitting around the fire and eating.

You stopped by the cart and placed your samples in one of the bigger chests. Once that was all done, you approached one of the logs by the fire. Four logs formed a square-like formation. Elias scooted over to let you sit and you joined him. He handed you a bowl of stew that you took gratefully.

The sun went down over a few hours. The elves swapped stories as you watched on with rapt attention. There was always underlying wisdom within their tales, no matter how ridiculous or even downright raunchy they became.

One by one the guards each retreated into their shared tent to rest. Once it was down to you and Elias, he shuffled to the side to give you more space.

You had been watching the fire when he spoke up, “Do you think a cure can be made?” His question caught you off guard and you looked to him. The stars had come out and the fire and moon provided the only light. You could see the reflection of the flames dancing across his face.

“Of course I do.” You answered.

“I… my wife is expecting. I don’t want my kids to be born into a world that is dying.” Elias admitted. He fidgeted with his hands, pulling on his fingers.

You adjusted in your seat, “That won’t happen.” You were firm in your words. There was a way out, there had to be a way out. For multiple millennia, there had been things thrown at the world. Terrible events that none thought would be overcome. Yet, here the world remained. Continuing on and on, with no end in sight. Those previous perils were defeated, why should this be any different?

“I hope so.” Elias patted his thighs and sighed. He stood up and faced you, “That does it for the day. Don’t stay up too late.” He nodded to you and then approached the guard's tent.

You continued to sit on the log and watch the fire. Crickets chirped and it was mixed with the sound of croaking frogs. You listened to the noise, taking in the sight around you. Everything was calm and you again pulled out Lyra’s doll. You were stuck looking at it and processing her passing. Those days you had spent locked in your room were not healing, nor did it aid in your grief. It had been nothing but nonexistence – trailing from one hour to the next.

Here, away from the kingdom and other obligations, you could finally breathe.

The abrupt passing of Lyra had you reflecting on your own life. Back to your humble life with your father in the capital. That when he disappeared, you had to learn to take care of yourself. He had left you enough money to cover food and other needs, but only for a short period. You had come to know what hunger was really like. It was by some miracle you had managed to make it to a village on the outskirts and settle. Even then, you were not as stable as one would like.

While you were looking at the doll, Aemond emerged from his tent and sat down on the log adjacent to yours. You could see his blue eye observe the depths of the flames. For a moment, it was silent.

“When you found my sister, injured on the borders, you helped her despite the great possibility of death,” Aemond spoke softly, “Why?” There was quiet contemplation across his face. He seemed to be going through some moment of clarity. The foundations of whatever he previously thought of you were shaking, yet you could not understand why.

You wanted to tell him everything, you wanted him to tell you everything. Damn the distance, damn all preconceived notions you had of one another. You wanted nothing but a complete reset, a possibility to connect.

“My whole life, I have struggled to find a purpose. If there is anything I can do right, that is healing. She needed help… and I could give it to her. Why should I not?” You spoke. Aemond moved his gaze from the fire to you, but you had already looked back down at the doll in your hands. You could not look at him, you were scared of what you would say if you did.

He did not speak, so you continued, “I did not think it would lead to me coming to your kingdom. It was scary, at first. But your people have given me something I have not had for a while. A home. I just did not expect to lose someone…”

Out of the corner of your field of vision, Aemond was looking at you. It was obvious, from your hold on the doll, that you were still in that uncomfortable state of mourning where all a person was filled with was regret. In the distance, an owl called out as the crickets rose in volume.

“I promised to take her on an adventure. I don’t know why… as a healer I should know not to do that. But she was so innocent and broken.” Perhaps, in her fragile state, you had seen yourself reflected in the glassy orbs of her eyes. Lyra was a reflection of you, or more accurately, a reflection of you before the disappearance of your father. A time when all you had was your innocence.

“You care.” Aemond seemed to have had an epiphany at that moment, his mouth slightly agape, “You care about my kind…” Anger flared in you at his comment. Had he not seen, the whole time you had been there, that caring was all you did? Your work with the cure, with the patients, connecting with other elves including his family. It was all because you did care, more than you have ever in your life.

“I care?” Your grip on the doll tightened as you finally looked at him. You met his soft gaze with hostility, “Do you still think so little of me after all this time? Have I not proven myself?”

Silence settled between you two. That seemed to be a habit lately, though the silence was not uncomfortable. There was a connection there that you two shared. Isolation of sound gave way to a deeper understanding. You had observed him in that moment. Your eyes traced the curve of his jaw, and the pursing of his lips, and moved along the scar to settle on the thick leather patch that covered whatever was underneath.

You quickly turned away, suddenly ashamed at staring so unabashedly at it. You had managed not to do that your entire stay there, largely out of fear that he may lash out at you for it. You gazed back into the fire.

“It’s a sapphire.” Aemond suddenly spoke.

You put your attention back on him, “What?”

“The eye that I lost. I replaced it with a sapphire,” The roles had reversed and Aemond had a difficult time looking at you, so he turned his gaze back onto to fire, “You were looking.”

You tilted your head slightly but made no move to comment. How many people had been privy to this knowledge? From your time in the kingdom, he had never taken it off. When you had first met Aegon, the topic of Aemond’s eye had come up, but he had brushed it away with underlying hostility. If it was such a sensitive topic, why had Aemond revealed it to you?

“You want to know how it happened.” It was not a question, but a flat sentence that seemed hesitant to come out from his lips. You continued to watch him, scanning his lithe form as it sat on a log. He was not dressed up in his finery but simply wore boots, pants, and a thin white shirt. The top half of his hair was not collected into a tie at the back, but fell loosely over his shoulders and down his back. The strands looked soft and caught the orange haze of the fire.

You swallowed some saliva that had gathered in your mouth, “I would be a liar if I said I was not curious and I will not lie to you.”

Aemond looked up for a moment, “It was before the Great War.” He lowered his head again as if it would shelter him from the memories that likely pushed to the forefront of his mind.

“You need not tell me this.” His growing discomfort had begun to rub off on you. You did not know if he had been drinking, that this instance might be a lapse of judgement in his muddled perception of reality as the alcohol took hold. However, there was no indication that he had.

“You want to know,” Aemond said plainly.

“Not at your expense.” You whispered. It was barely heard above the sound of the environment and the fire, but Aemond whipped his head in your direction as if you had yelled it. Your words were a quiet revelation to him that you indeed did not carry complete hate towards him like you had led him to believe.

“It was a human that did it.” His words felt like a bucket of ice water had been poured over you. It was like those moments between sleep and awake when the world was hazy and made no sense until the final wave of energy hit you and everything sharpened into focus. The coming of the dawn, the rising of the birds, it all made sense to you.

His perception of you made sense; the one that he had voiced to you the morning after your first party in the library.

All humans are a threat.

For him, you were just another version of the person who dealt him irreparable damage and unquestionable violence.

“He was a prince from your kingdom,” The way he had said it was almost accusatory, “Our people had been allies. I thought of the Prince Lucerys as a friend, perhaps a brother…” The way he spoke the man’s name sent a shiver down your spine. It was an intense portrayal of animosity, a loathing monster lurking in a forest of broken trust.

“I had just become king, but still so young. My people were still weakened from my father’s death and it was treated as an opportunity by your kind.” His grip on his thighs tightened and you could almost see the memories themselves through the glossy film of his eye. “I had woken up that night to him above me, dagger in hand. I… I tried to fight him but,” His words fell short. You watched him ball his hands into fists, shaking ever so slightly. Either from fear or anger, that much was unclear.

“Why are you telling me this?” You whispered. You had leaned over in your seat during his recounting of events, attention rapt with both horror and curiosity. Aemond then faced you for the first time since his confession and you could not help but look at the scar on his face. A symbol of betrayal and violence, what should be a mark of a monster, was truly just a blow dealt to a scared child.

It was not elf King Aemond Targaryen who sat by you, but a scared little boy broken in countless ways.

“If you think to betray me or my people, get it over with so we can avoid the pain.” You understood that what he truly meant was that he could avoid the pain. What you did not account for was the possibility that, perhaps, he is still just as prone to unwavering naive trust as he was as a child. It was clear that he had some form of a degree of trust and even camaraderie with you. That the thought of you committing such an act against him would be another scar upon himself.

He had been waiting for you to hover above him, dagger in hand, and prepared to even the score.

“You are not what people say you are.” Your voice acted like a balm for him and you could see Aemond visibly relax. “You are not a monster.” You knew he could sense the double meaning of your words. That his actions were not monstrous, but most importantly, that he did not look like one. You did not doubt that the scar had led him to feel deficient in many parts of his life. Which, in your whole honesty, was a complete lie. To think that someone could glance at that face and shrink away was nearly insane.

Aemond’s shoulders sagged and you could have melted under the intensity of his gaze. The softness, the sheer dedication of reverence. There was a thick gloss that reflected in his eye and even now you could see that he was holding back. It was all too much.

“And you are not like the other humans… you care.”

You wanted to move over and get closer to him. To feel if he was warmer than the fire; if the swirling ocean in his eye was worth it to sail. You cursed the distance between you two. Now, when you were speaking and had gotten closer than ever before, he still felt far. With each time you two connected it was always the opposite. When you were arguing, you were always physically close and could feel his heat, but when you two were getting along, he seemed so impossibly far.

It was an odd form of cruelty that you each imposed upon one another.

“Do you think,” You began but hesitated, “Do you think we can be friends?” Your heart thumped against your ribcage. That you had even asked such a question had your mind racing. Would this attempt be successful? Or, if anything, will he see this as a threat for getting too close?

Aemond appeared almost shocked and his back straightened. His eye squinted, full of uncertainty. “You want to be friends… with me?”

“Yes.” You decided to take the risk and moved to sit by him. Everything felt slow like your senses were pushing to delay this moment; to lock it in your memory and keep it forever. You raised your hand, which elicited an almost imperceptible flinch from him. You slowed your movement and rested your hand on one of his that had been balled up tightly on his thigh.

It was like a damn broke and his hand opened up to receive yours. You could feel the heat of his skin and the callouses that littered the pads from endless training. There were a few scars that littered it, each line spread out like randomized patches of flowers in a field. They were beautiful to you. He was beautiful to you.

You did not care that you were in too deep anymore. If you could know him, really know him, if just for under a year – you could carry that with you for life. Your fingers slotted between his and he squeezed your hand.

Aemond had looked back to the fire, now slowly dying out, and spoke just barely, “Friends.”

It was there, fingers intertwined, that both your souls rested together as you bathed in the light of once-unspoken words.

Chapter 15: Know Your Enemies Preview

A hand waved in front of your vision. You had not even acknowledged how your vision had gotten blurry in your moment of thinking. Aegon was crouched down, a crinkle prominent between his eyebrows as his face was morphed with worry.

“Come back down to the ground here. Shit, did I break you?” Aegon shook your shoulders gently and his voice dropped to a near incomprehensible whisper, “Gods, Aemond will kill me.”

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ataraxiaspainting · 10 months ago

Text

pretending to be dead in front of hxh yans. because why the hell not?

Warnings: Yandere themes, kidnapping, and implied violence.

Word Count: 900. (this was only supposed to be 400 😭)

*~*~*~*

Chrollo

Chrollo will know right away. There is no doubt about that. Even if he was in another room and just happened to walk in through the doorway as you flopped on the floor like a fish.

He will probably hit you up with a "Darling, get up or we won't go to the museum tonight" or something like that. He likes using this carrot and stick technique quite a lot, but with his own spin on it using his manipulation tactics. He will lure you in with a reward for behaving yourself or take something away when you are bad.

If you continue this charade despite his threats, he will attempt to entertain you for a bit. Maybe he pokes you with the end of an umbrella or something, or mockingly weeps your supposed death. Eventually this will annoy you so much you will surrender.

His response is directly proportional to why you did this. Did you do it for attention? He will gladly give it to you, with reading to you and handfeeding you your favorite food, still warm from its takeout box, or maybe he even attempted to make it himself (though, if the dish doesn't come out as planned, as his perfectionism is a huge part of him, he will throw it out before you even find out he cooked something in the first place).

Did you do it so he would actually think you are dead so you could sneak off to freedom? Well, expect him to tease you about it from this point forward, but nothing serious happens. Unless you attempt to attack him and actually prevail, usually his punishments are bare to none.

Nobunaga

Nobunaga is many things. Being in touch with reality is definitely not one of them. He already sees you as a fragile little baby, so trying to play dead in front of him will cause him to have a panic attack of sorts.

He believes your entire act, as bad as you were doing it. He cries and caresses you in his arms. His crusty, dry lips, unholy body odor, and his utterly disgusting breath will be the only reasons you will ever reveal your cover.

He reacts to you being alive as horribly as you expect. He will start yelling at you, scolding you like a toddler who snuck into the cookie jar and not a captive trying to get back to society once more. If he was already in a somewhat bad mood, like you rejected his advances for the umpteenth time, and he got annoyed at you playing "hard to get" again, expect to even be sent to bed without dinner or dessert. Horrifying, right?

But, then again, dinner is always raw or burnt. You are sometimes convinced Nobunaga is trying to poison you to further immobile you, so you won't attempt to escape further. Maybe this whole playing dead thing was successful, in its own way? You would rather eat pebbles than the halfway cooked rice Nobunaga puts in your pink plastic plate.

Feitan

Feitan just stares at you, not blinking. He already knows what you are trying to do. He already has a staring problem, observing everything you do, from drawing to looking outside the small, barred window in your room, so his reaction, in all honesty, does not surprise you one bit.

He will just go about his day. Feitan is an expert on the human body, being the Troupe's lead torturer and all, so he knows the difference from when you are faking being sick (or in this case dead) from when you are actually sick (a possibility from both the escape attempts and the fact that Feitan's little cabin in the middle of the woods has no heat or air conditioner. He says he does not need it, so he does not recognize it as a problem).

As always, he says nothing. He only sees this as a little bit of a tantrum you're having, and lets you have your way for once. When you eventually give up or when he has had enough of watching you, he'll leave the room to do something else.

But nothing bad happens to you, shockingly. But there is major emphasis on to you. If you have refused to admit defeat, he'll torture yet another poor unfortunate soul in his basement, their screams much louder than usual, and you will break at one point or another, either asking Feitan to stop or going to your room to put your pillow (which can also be a weapon with how hard it is) over your ears.

Machi

Machi, similar to two of the three assfarts, knows exactly what you are doing. But, like Nobunaga, she still worries, although she does not show it, and she also scolds you.

But, unlike the rest of them, she tries to listen to you after she shakes you into revealing yourself. She wants to know why you did that. If you say to try to escape from her, her heart will be broken once again.

Machi may not be the most emotionally understanding, but she does in fact try, although what she does after this incident is largely the opposite of what you wanted to happen. Even though her intentions are good, in her opinion. She will become more present in your life, bringing home more gifts for you and trying to hug you whenever you ask, although she will never initiate it herself.

She hopes you won't do that again. She'll tell you as such. She was not trying to manipulate you with the increase in gifts and consensual touches, but you will feel so bad you won't attempt such a thing from that point forward.

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dawnoftime22 · 2 months ago

Text

guitar session.

| T.S

Warnings: Tay being a little sick, R being the teensiest lonely/anxious but getting reassurance, R singing and playing guitar

Summary: One day, Taylor gets home and finds a heartwarming surprise waiting for her in the music room. But even with the sweet surprise, she gets concerned for you of your time without her.

Word Count: 3.1k

Category: fluff! hurt/comfort(?)

A/N: parts of this were made with this is me trying on repeat so that may be why you can expect a little bit of sadness here and there, but, enjoy lovelies<3

| Started on 27/10/2023, 2:59 PM |

| Finished on 29/08/2024, 11:46 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

"Even if something thats good still ends up coming with the bearing of bad news, know that its okay to relieve yourself of it and be sad or anxious, or anything, even just a little bit of emotion aside from happiness. Don't keep it all in."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was a warm cozy day as you sat in your home, feeling awfully bored. The house was quiet and empty aside from the cats, and all you've been doing is sitting at the couch within the living room.

You had changed spots, changed positions, and tried different things; watching tv, or reading a book, but it all seemed to turn out as gray looking as the clouds that started to loom outside your window.

It was almost lonely, to say the least.

A sigh escapes your mouth as you stared at the ceiling. But upon decision, you start to get up, moving with a slow pace to get your feet back on the floor, although getting your vision blacked out by dizziness when you stand anyway.

You blink the fuzziness away before you walk, taking in a breath to steady yourself. Since there were signs of an oncoming storm, with there not even showing a glimpse of the sunset through the sky, you had to go through the house within a bit of darkness.

The lights click on with a flick of the light switches you pass by, and you close the curtains along with them too. You were doing the usual nighttime routine, although, for now, without your favorite blonde.

You were about to go in the last room when you realize it was the music room, and you pause in your tracks. A part of you wished that there were sounds of Taylor's singing, the gentle strum of her guitar, or her piano as you stood by, but there was nothing but the rain pattering outside, and a lightning striking that caused you to jump.

Exhaling a breath, you shook your head, holding your heart slightly. Your feet brings you to the door, and your hand reaches up to turn on another light, this one orange and dim; a perfect warm room for her to make her music in.

A smile raises up on your face as you walked in, taking in the sighting. Her guitar was propped up against the couch, left there by her last session.

You could remember it clearly. She was sat, not on the couch, but on the floor. It was in the middle of the night, up until you appeared at the doorway of the room.

She had left it there and stood up, going towards you in concern of whether she had awoken you, but you were only missing her from the cold sheets. And now you were missing her as her presence wasn't here.

It was only last night, and you couldn't shake off how real her love felt in the way she had instantly got up, checking on you and giving you the embrace of her arms. You didn't mind the night session much really, you even spent a little time in this room with her until she invited you back to the bedroom.

Your fingers brush over the head of the guitar, feeling the dips and edges until you reach the tuning pegs. But of course you don't mess with them. There were fingerprints on the wood, ones only being Taylor's.

The piano was over just beside you, and your gaze lingered on it for a moment, but then you pick up the guitar.

You made sure to handle it carefully as you sat down on the couch, putting one of your hands over the fretboard and the other on the guitar's body.

As Taylor had played many times before you with this exact guitar, you try strumming down with your thumb. The strings echoes its sound easily, although a wince lightly crosses your face when you accidentally hit some of the metal strings with your nails rather than your skin, eliciting a sharper noise rather than the sound of raw skin.

You tested it and did some light playing for a few moments before you soon pull out your phone, starting to search up guitar tutorials on the internet. It didn't take long for you to end up stumbling upon one of your girlfriend's songs, and your eyes brighten at the finding.

The video plays, and the chords were onscreen. You follow it, needing to pause every couple of minutes so you can follow along without difficulty.

The pads of your fingers were marked with several lines of the guitar strings whenever you lifted them off, having pressed on them and getting the smallest sting, but you tried to not mind it.

Once you've got the hang of the song's playthrough with the guitar, you finally try to add some singing to it, going slower as it was harder to play and sing at the same time.

The quiet room was filled by only your voice and the strumming of the guitar, and you were gradually getting used to the rhythm, multitasking the use of both your voice and your fingers on the fretboard.

The couch started to get more uncomfortable, so you decide to sit on the floor, your comfort levels returning back as your back meets the couch. Taylor was right all this time. And to think you had questioned her all along whenever you saw her sitting on the floor.

Time passes by, and even the rain had started to calm down a little, letting you take over the noise in the atmosphere-- although the crickets were still keeping with their own singing outside.

You hadn't even noticed the sound of a car or the front door of the house opening as you practiced...

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

The blonde gently closes the door, clicking the lock back to keeping security of your shared home. Just for a moment, she leans back against the door, closing her eyes and relishing in the warm feeling of home.

She takes a deep breath and lets it out as a sigh of relief, opening her eyes once more. She was finally home, back to where she's wanted to be at all day long. Her shoes and socks were quietly slid off from her now aching feet, and her keys rattle slightly as she gently puts them off to a nearby table.

Taylor's gaze move over to the living room space and the kitchen, but upon seeing nothing, she decides to simply go upstairs instead, glancing back at the couch to make sure you weren't hidden, laid down there.

Her hair, and, nearly her entire being was wet from the rain outside, so all she wanted really, was a shower and a warm cuddle with you.

But she stops right at the last step of the stairs, a distinct sound catching her ears. Her eyebrows furrow, and she grows wary, but she goes up fully to the second floor, getting closer to where the noise was coming from.

"But you're just so cool, run your hands through your hair"

"Absentmindedly makin' me want you!"

She could just barely identify it, a voice and guitar strumming-- her mind was starting to think she could perhaps even be imagining things. She's been singing the whole day, so it would only make sense.

When she steps closer and closer, the soft melody was getting even clearer. It was coming from the music room, and she stares at it, seeing that the door was wide open and the lights were on.

Her heart beats a little faster in anticipation of what scene might greet her, but a small smile starts to slowly grow on her face. She can recognize that it was your voice.

When she finally arrived to the doorway, she sees you.

There you were, in the most cozy and peaceful form, sitting on the floor like she usually does. She guessed you had gotten just as uncomfortable as she was, and she smiles wider, much more on the fact that you were in her music room, holding her guitar, and singing her song.

She could feel her heart melting entirely, and the weight on her shoulders from the work she's had were starting to fade away from her. You weren't facing her, so you didn't even notice her standing by the doorway.

"And I don't know how it gets better than this." Your voice held happiness, purely out of the proudness that you had achieved to learn the song, and you were nodding your head to the rhythm.

"You take my hand and drag me headfirst, fearless!" The way you moved showed that you were deep into the music, and she shakes her head. She didn't even know you could sing so well, but oh, you could. It just about made her fall in love with you even further, if that was even possible anymore since her heart was already overflowing with love for you.

"And I don't know why but with you, I'd dance, in a storm in my best dress, fearless..." you finish off your singing, only starting to strum the guitar for the instrumental part, going freely.

She bits her lip, then takes a step forward. "I like your singing." She says suddenly, her voice cutting through the sound of the guitar and making you jump slightly, your strumming stopping as your head turns around quickly, only to see Taylor standing there with a smile.

"Oh!...You're home," you say, your voice now a little quieter than your singing as your cheeks flushed, your hands relaxing on the guitar.

"I...got bored so I-- um, I picked up your guitar," you stammered out slightly, gesturing to the instrument in your lap as you gaze up at her.

"I hope you don't mind," you add in quickly, and your eyes follow the way she smiled wider with a small chuckle, going forward to sit on the couch behind you.

"Baby, you can grab it anytime...but I didn't know you played?" She says curiously and thoughtfully, her eyebrows furrowing as she looks down at you, seeing the pinkish tint on your face turn into a shade of red.

"I don't, I...just learned it," you reply, gently putting the guitar on the floor, facing up before you turn your body to look at her properly, resting your head against her leg.

Her face only held soft happiness and pride as she gazes back at you, her heart about to jump out her chest. "Well, you did an amazing job, sweetheart. Especially playing that song when its raining," she says, adding in the expression of her hand, reaching out to boop your nose slightly, and you scrunch it up at the touch.

Your facial expressions go back to a normal gentler face, and you look over her appearance, noticing the raindrops on her hair, and her shirt and jacket slightly having wetness on them. "Speaking of it, you're covered in rain, baby. What happened?" You ask with concern, your hand going to rest on her knee.

She purses in her lips and her eyes move to her own appearance. "Just a little...the wind threw my umbrella off balance..." she says softly under her breath, a pink blush fading into her face. Then, her eyes glide to you.

"Were you the one who initiated the rain by playing Fearless? Because if so, I'm blaming you," she says playfully, pointing to you. Your lips raise up into a smile and you giggled, shaking your head.

"Well, you're the one who took the lyrics literally, except without me," you replied back, reaching out to give a gentle tug to the hem of her jacket she was wearing; possibly the only thing keeping her warm.

She chuckles at your playful statement, then tilts her head. "I also didn't dance in the rain or quite in the best dress..." she says, gesturing to herself.

You smile lovingly up at her. "No, but you look pretty anyway," you whispered, taking her hand in yours and giving it a gentle squeeze.

Then, another thought came into your mind, and you get concerned once more. "You don't have a cold, do you?" you ask suddenly, your eyebrows furrowing.

"No, I'm fine, baby." She shook her head quickly, giving you a reassuring smile to play it off. The quickness of it was almost suspicious.

"You're sure?" you ask, raising a conspicuous eyebrow as you looked over her appearance. She was shivering ever so slightly, and her nose was red.

"Mhm." She nods, giving you a hum for an answer, but then a small sneeze escapes her as she turns her body to the side, sneezing into the arch of her elbow.

She takes a breath in, and opens her eyes again when it felt like the sneeze had faded. When she sees the concerned questionable look on your face, she smiles shyly. "Maybe just a teensy bit..." she whispers.

"Teensy bit?" you repeat her last two words with a gentle pinch of air with your index finger and thumb, smiling wider at her as you rested your head against your now folded arms on the couch.

She found the sight of you adorable at the moment, and she lets out a small giggle at your gesture, but then bit her lip, wanting to get warmer. "Can I just have cuddles now...?" she asks softly, and you had the chance to do the most playfully mischevious thing.

"Mmmmm, no, I don't wanna get sick," you teased, turning your head away from her and leaning back with your hand getting off the couch, as if you were trying to get away from her.

She pouted in response, her hands now stretching out to reach your shoulders before you could go any further. "Please?" she whispers.

Your fingers curled back down on the couch, and you smiled at her small pout in the corner of your eye, finding it adoring. You glance back at her once more before standing.

"I was kidding. Of course you can...once you take a bath," you say with a chuckle, not wanting her to be sleeping in wet clothes and being uncomfortable from the lingering rain on her body and face.

"Yay," she says under her breath, throwing her arms up as her pout easily faded away into a smile.

"Come here, sweetheart," you say softly, gently taking her hands and pulling her up while she was also moving to stand by herself, a balance of a loving act.

Once she gets up entirely, she instantly wraps her arms around you, burying her face into your chest. Your lips softly curled up at her quickness, and you instinctively go to return her embrace, warming her cold body up.

"I missed you..." she murmurs into your shirt, tightening her arms around you as she nuzzles into the crook of your neck.

You tilt your head, brushing your nose lightly against her blonde hair. "I missed you even more." you whispered softly, your voice filled with love and sincerity, and the room held all the comfort of your shared sweetness.

Once you pull back from the long comforting embrace, you slip one of your hand into hers, but picked up her guitar that you had left on the floor, delicately moving to put it back on its stand.

"How was your day, baby?" she asks, seeing you return your focus to her and putting a gentle kiss to the side of her head, making her smile softly.

"It was okay...a little lonely though," you murmured, turning off the light in the room, then having your gaze on the floor as you walked in the halls with her.

Her smile falters a little, and the hand she has intertwined with yours squeezed you gently. "I'm sorry sweetheart..." she whispers, leaning closer to your side.

You give her a gentle assuring smile. "Its okay, at least now I've gained a new hobby by being bored," you say, brushing your shoulder against hers, but her expressions held concern and a small frown.

"It doesn't excuse the fact that you felt lonely..." she quietly says, her mind going over her thoughts as she focuses her eyes to the path of your bedroom. She had been so caught on the show she had today, that she forgot to even bring out her phone from the private room during her breaks.

"I'll text you more while I'm away," she assures, turning her head to catch your reaction to her words, her thumb caressing over the back of your hand.

Your eyes meet hers, and it was surely visible that you had the smallest anxious battle ongoing inside you, but you purse your lips. "It's okay, really, but...thank you." You shake your head, both of you arriving to your shared bedroom that already had the lights and fan on.

You squeeze her hand before letting go, going to the closet to grab her some clothes for her to change into after cleaning up. She bit her lower lip, gazing at you.

"Hey." she breathes out, quietly, but holding the smallest bit of firmness to get your attention, and you pause in your search of clothes, looking back at her.

She lets out a gentle breath, taking steps forward to be closer to you, and wrap her arms around you. "Don't forget to text me too, okay?" she whispers, holding gentle eye contact with you to make sure you were listening.

You stay quiet for just a small moment, but the visible fraction of a breath you released only showed that you had a realization, and you gave her a nod. "I'm sorry I didn't," you whispered back, making her features soften.

"No, honey, it's okay. I'm sorry I didn't either," she reassures you softly. The shake of her head caused your noses to brush, the close proximity you both held not giving much space. But of course, neither of you minded.

"I love you," she says under her breath, softer than ever. Her voice held more emotion than it did before, and her hand reaches up to cup your cheek, her thumb brushing.

You tried to hold back the emotions bubbling in your throat, and you nod again, a soft smile raising on your face. "I love you more," you whispered, leaning in for your lips to meet.

"You're gonna get spammed with cat videos," you add, lightening the situation with a gentle joke, and she breathes out a chuckle, nuzzling against your nose.

"Good," she whispers, sliding her hand to your back and rubbing it up and down in a soothing motion; one that only made you lean into her embrace, fingers furling into her shirt as she continued assuring you.

Afterwards, you got her into a nice warm bath, helping her clean up and decompress after work, then relax with her once she had gotten into comfier clothes; such as your hoodie, and soon had fallen asleep together in each other's embrace.

--------------

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a-killer-obsession · 3 months ago

Text

Whoops, you got hit by a bus, and now you're in the world of One Piece. But not everything is quite as you remember it...

General Tags: afab reader, she/her reader pronouns, isekai, monsterfucker reader, vampire!kid, werewolf!killer, wyrm!heat, minotaur!wire, everyone has a human form, smut heavy, unhealthy relationships, dubious consent, serious violence, spoilers for Wano arc, starts pre-timeskip. There will be a lot of more intense kinks, please check AO3 for all current tags.

Chapter 4 - Toy Mouse

Heat is being greedy, so Kid puts him in his place.

WC: 3.6k

Masterlist | AO3 | Chapter 1

At first things seemed fine and normal with Heat. He was clingy, definitely, but at first you just chalked it up to him being a little touch starved. It wasn't until he refused to leave when you needed to use the bathroom that you realised something might be off, not even turning away to give you privacy. It was difficult to do your business like that, but something about the dark look in his eyes when he watched you made you aroused and more willing to do what he wanted. He kept you by his side 24/7, with no chance of going off on your own even at night, when he kept his tail coiled around you like a boa constrictor with its prey. He never hurt you, but the lack of privacy was starting to get grading, not to mention your cunt hurt from how many times he'd mounted you. Sometimes you woke up with him already inside you, which you didn't mind so much, except for the fact you were exhausted and he was interrupting your sleep constantly. If you tried to scold him, he'd just give you sad little puppy eyes, and you couldn't help but give in. By day three it seemed like all you did was eat, sleep and fuck. He barely left the bed or let you leave, instead having someone bring meals to the bedroom so he could keep you to himself, and you were beginning to feel like you had no agency in your own life at all. As much as you enjoyed being used like a personal fleshlight, some fresh air would've been nice.

On day four of Heat keeping you captive, the others decided they'd had enough. Heat was slacking off on his chores to play with you, and Kid was sick of his insubordination. He had warned Heat right from the start what would happen if he acted too possessive, knowing full well it was in the wyrm's nature to act like this, and with Sabaody on the horizon he decided to do something about it. Both you and Heat were summoned to Kid's room, where he had his own private dining room he sometimes used for meetings.

As it turned out, the stairs in the stern castle led to the captain's quarters, in other words: Kid's floor. Only the commanders and whoever was responsible for cleaning his chambers were allowed up those stairs unless invited, so you felt highly intimated as Heat led you up. At the top of the stairs was a short hall with two doors, the first of which, Heat explained, went to Kid's workshop, and the other to his living quarters.

The main part of Kid's quarters was made up of two rooms, separated by a large archway. The first chamber held the dining room and bar, a similar setup to the commander's table on the stage downstairs in the galley, while the second chamber held his bedroom. Another door led through from the bedroom, you would learn later that these led through to a walk-in closet, and beyond it a bathroom which also connected to the workshop, making one large loop that took up the entire expanse of this floor.

Kid's main chambers were decorated as you had expected in reds and blacks, with deep scarlet wallpapers decorated with an embossed baroque pattern that was glossier than the base, but the same colour, giving a subtle texture to the walls where the light caught it. The lower third of the walls were shiplapped with a deep ebony wood, almost black, the doors, framing and much of the furniture being made of a matching wood. The floors were a slightly brighter wood, with large black and red ornate rugs with purple accents laid out under the dining set and bed. The bed itself was a gothic styled canopy bed, with an ornate headboard and deep red sheets, set with red velvet blankets and a red fur much like his coat draped over the end. At the end of the bed was a long purple ottoman, and the room also held several dressers that matched the bed; side tables, a purple velvet loveseat and matching armchair, a small glass topped coffee table in front of the sofa, and wrought-iron faux candelabra lighting fixtures scattered around the walls of each chamber. Each chamber also had a grand matching chandelier in the centre of the room, both sections lit in warm orange light. The dining section also held two china cabinets with glass panelled doors, one one either side of the room. The first held a multitude of expensive looking liquors and crystal glasses to enjoy them with, while the other seemed like a collection of antique weapons, a variety of well kept guns and knives of all kinds.

Kid, Killer and Wire already sat at the dining table as you and Heat entered, Kid in a throne-like seat at the end of the table that was taller and more ornate than the other chairs. Heat pulled you into his lap as he sat, wrapping his arms around you protectively. The others rolled their eyes at the overly possessive action.

“Come now,” Kid tutted, “come warm my lap instead, mouse.” He pushed his seat a little away from the table, patting his knee to invite you over. You made to move to him, wanting to be obedient, but Heat made a growl behind you and held you tighter. “Heat, what did I say? Do I need to take your toy away from you permanently? Prove to me this wasn't a mistake to let you take responsibility of her”

Heat grumbled but let you go, knowing that if he didn't give in then Kid would have to send you back down to the brig, and he didn't want to give up having you warm his bed. You spared Heat an apologetic look as you walked to the head of the table, and Kid quickly pulled you into his wide lap, the large, jewel encrusted belt buckle he wore digging into you as you tried to get comfortable. His hand rested on your inner thigh as he held you still, the other against your waist to pin your back to his chest. You could feel the vibrations in his chest from his deep voice whenever he spoke, while Heat watched on with a deep, unhappy scowl on his face. Kid's hand was so high on your thigh that he could swipe his thumb over your slit, making you bite your lip and squirm as he put pressure against your clothed cunt.

“Wipe that fucking look from your face, snake, she offered herself to everyone, quit being selfish,” Kid barked at him.

“Don't call him a snake,” you said quietly, a slight quiver to your voice, “that's not nice. He's a dragon, not a snake”

“Damn, you showed her your full form already?” Kid laughed, “no wonder she fuckin’ stinks of you. I'll just have to put my own scent on her,” he jeered, running his sharp canines over the pulse point of your neck, making you shiver. Heat made a growl, black smoke leaking from his mouth, and Kid openly laughed at him, running his hand further up your thigh to cup your cunt while his other hand grabbed a tit, making you let out a surprised squeak. “Sounds like I'm gonna have to put your boyfriend in his place, mouse. Be a doll and bend over the table for me.”

You moved to do as he asked, apparently not moving fast enough for his liking as he suddenly manhandled you, pushing your front down against the table and yanking down your borrowed sweatpants and oversized briefs. You couldn't help but let out a whine as he ran two fingers between your folds before bullying them inside you, finding you already wet from just his earlier teasing. “Little mouse is already soaked, you want this don't you, whore? Want me to use your greedy cunt? It's sucking my fingers in.”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, blushing heavily and trying to ignore the other three men in the room who were watching you discerningly, most of all Heat who was growing angry as Kid played with his toy. There was wet squelching and the metallic jingling of gold bracelets as Kid finger fucked you, showing no mercy as he scissored his fingers to stretch you out as quickly as possible, adding a third thick finger and curling them down to press against your g-spot. “Ahh- hnng- Kid-” you moaned, writhing against the table, one of his hands still pressed to your back to keep you from getting up. He forcibly ripped an orgasm from you, not letting up even a little as he felt you clamp down around his fingers, and you heard the soft pattering of fluid hitting the rug as he made you squirt.

“Fuck, now there's a good whore,” Kid praised, pulling his fingers from you and licking them clean, savouring your sweet taste. If he had more time he'd eat you out, but this wasn't about making you feel good, this was about putting Heat in his place. “You didn't say she was a squirter, Heat. Sweet little mouse, making a mess on my rug. I'm gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy. See who you dream of then.”

You heard the unbuckling of his belt behind you, his blue sash thrown to the floor beside you as he yanked down his pants. You turned enough to see his erection, gasping at how impossibly thick he was, somehow even thicker than the base of Heat's dragon form cocks, though not as long. The man was built like a fucking soup can. Kid gave Heat a shit eating grin as he pushed your head to face forward again, lining himself up and pushing his cock into you far too fast, knocking the air from your lungs and making you sting from the stretch. If it wasn't for how regularly Heat had been mounting you, the stretch would have no doubt made you scream in pain, but thankfully Heat had been giving you no time for your cunt to recover fully.

“Fuck, so tight,” Kid growled, grabbing your hips hard enough to bruise and immediately starting a brutal pace, his heavy balls slapping against your thighs with every snap of his hips. He couldn't care less if you came again, his only goal was to cover you in cum so Heat would smell him on you for days and remember you didn't belong to only him. He was enjoying your tight cunt though nonetheless, seriously considering keeping you around for a while just to fuck even if you turned out to be full of shit.

You squirmed and moaned at Kid's rough treatment, moving too much for his liking. He made a frustrated growl and lifted a leg to the table, pressing his boot against your head, threatening to crush it. “Stop fucking squirming bitch,” he barked, “take what I fucking give you.”

You could smell the dirt and dried sea salt on the sole of his boot, as well as the polish he used to shine the leather (or more likely, that another crewmate used). You couldn't help the string of moans that left you at the degrading treatment, your nails digging into the wooden table top as your clothed tits slid back and forth against it. You made the mistake of looking ahead, making eye contact with Wire, who looked highly amused, his eyes dark and hungry as he twirled his trident on its base. You whined at his expression, he was watching you like you were nothing more than a plaything, practically seeing the cogs in his head turning as he considered all the things he would do to you when he got his turn. Killer's face was of course unreadable, but he watched you with crossed arms, sitting in a relaxed looking slouch with his mask pointed right at you. You expected Heat to look upset, but instead his eyes were wide and blown out with lust, finding surprisingly that he actually enjoyed watching Kid fuck you. He could get used to this, he thought. Possessiveness still prickled in the back of his mind, already planning on coating you in cum the second he got a chance, maybe he'd even piss on you for good measure, but for now he was enjoying watching Kid use you, and seeing the way your eyes rolled back at his merciless pounding.

“Oi, you two,” Kid pointed at Killer and Wire, “jerk yourselves off, we're gonna paint this bitch with our cum so Heat knows to share in future.”

The two of them didn't hesitate for a moment, already rock hard from watching as they each unfastened their pants and pulled out their cocks. You couldn't see how big they were from this angle, but just knowing they were fucking themselves while they watched you was enough to make your legs shake, clamping down hard around Kid's cock and near screaming as you came. “Oh you like that huh? You like seeing them jerk off while they watch me fuck you?” Kid laughed, “you were born to be a whore. That's the real reason you ended up on this ship, a perfect little whore, made just for us.”

Heat made a move to touch himself, but Kid growled and snapped a finger at him. “Not you, selfish cunt, you're just gonna sit there and watch. You've had enough turns already.”

Heat whined, putting his hands on the table, his fingers twitching and shifting nervously as he struggled to control his urges, black smoke puffing out of his nose with every strained breath. Kid removed his boot from your head and pulled his cock out of you, flipping you onto your back unceremoniously before he grabbed your thighs and pulled your ass to the edge of the table, reshealthing himself with a grunt. He grabbed your shirt and tore it open easily, exposing your breasts which bounced with every thrust. He tweaked and pinched your nipples, making you whine and your back arch of the table. “Fuck, look at those tits, these natural baby?”

“Y-yes captain,” you whined, thighs squeezing around him involuntarily as he started rubbing your clit hard with a calloused thumb.

“Fucking nice,” he growled, groping your tit hard before his hand moved further up and squeezed around your neck. The restricted air flow made you light headed, adding to the dizziness you were feeling after two hard orgasms. You vaguely registered the creaking of the table behind you and the striped mask hovering over your face, before Kid released your neck, only for Killer to grab your face and tilt your head back, shoving his cock in your mouth and giving you no time to adjust before he was gagging you with it. You had to keep your eyes shut as they watered, trying hard not to gag as Killer's cock choked you, so you didn't see how Wire stood at your side, playing with the tit that Kid wasn't already occupying as he continued to fist himself, rolling your nipple between his fingers and slapping your soft mound. Your hands came up to grab at the lacing on Killer's jeans for support as you slid back and forth on the dining table, unable to concentrate on anything except for breathing through your nose.

You moaned around Killer's cock as Kid pulled at your clit and you came again, your gummy walls squeezing him and pulling him to his own peak. He pulled out just in time to coat your pussy with cum, thick ropes beading between your labia and dripping to the rug below as he panted. The other two took that as their cue, Wire spraying hot ropes over your tits while Killer unloaded over your face, leaving you thankful that your eyes were shut. The three of them left you whining and panting on the table, leaving you cold as the three hot bodies around you suddenly disappeared. You felt used but in the best kind of way, running your hands over your body and playing with the cum, pushing Killer's into your mouth and moaning around your fingers as you sucked the frosting from them.

“What do you say, mouse?” Kid purred, sitting back in his chair, pushing his cock back into his pants.

“Thank you captain,” you whimpered, touching your oversensitive clit with gentle circles. You couldn't help yourself when you felt unbelievably lewd covered in the collective cum of three different men.

“Look at her, can't get enough, she's jerking herself off with my cum,” Kid laughed, “go on then mouse, make yourself cum, show us how much you like being our little cum rag.”

You whined as you touched yourself harder with purpose, knowing it wouldn't take much to get yourself off given how sensitive you were right now. You dipped your fingers inside yourself, curling them the way you knew you liked best, zeroing in on the spot you knew would make you squirt, wanting to impress Kid. You sat up a little to reach better, seeing Kid's shit-eating grin as he watched you, looking pleased and amused as you fingered yourself in front of him. “Good girl mouse,” he purred, “you gonna cum for us sweetheart? Show us how much you love being the ship whore.”

“Ahhh- Kid~” you whined, your torso falling back to the table as your back arched, pumping your fingers fast in and out of your overused and gaping cunt as you felt the coil in your abdomen pull tight, your free hand running over your breasts and spreading Wire's spend over them. “Gonna- gonna cum- can I cum captain?”

“Good mouse, you can cum,” he purred, impressed by your naturally submissive behaviour. You did so immediately, squirting hard with a scream the whole Grandline would hear. With nothing for your release to catch against you almost got Kid with it, which pleased him greatly to watch as your release sprayed out over the rug and tabletop. You collapsed against the table with your legs draped over the side, shaking and twitching with aftershocks, entirely spent. Kid pulled your fingers from your cunt and licked them clean, making you whine as he gave your pussy a playful slap. “Good girl, mouse, you did good. You can go back to Heat now sweetheart.”

Heat helped you off the table, pulling you into his lap where you could feel his raging erection straining in his pants under your ass. He buried his face in your shoulder with a needy whine, and as exhausted as you were you couldn't do much to comfort him, so you just pressed your face against his. Killer and Wire had already returned to their seats, acting like nothing had happened, like there wasn't a puddle of fluids on the table or a stain on the rug, and like you weren't still covered in cum, not that Heat or yourself minded. He hated smelling the others on you, but he was too turned on to complain.

“Right,” Kid cleared his throat, “now that we've gotten that out of the way, Sabaody is a few days away.” You did your best to show him you were paying attention, but it was difficult given your half asleep state. “So you better have a plan for how you're gonna prove you're not full of shit. As tight as that pussy is, you ain't stayin’ on the ship if you can't prove your story.”

“Mmm, I have a plan, Captain,” you replied with a half-lidded gaze, “I can write down everything that'll happen, give it to one of you so you know I'm not changing it. Then afterwards you'll see everything I wrote down happened. I don't think you should read it till you're back though, I don't know yet if telling you will change things, so while I'm proving myself it would be best to play it safe.”

“Hmm,” Kid hummed, “alright then. But Heat is coming with us, so you're gonna have to come too. I don't trust anyone else to babysit you when we have no proof right now that you don't have powers.”

“Ah, I'd rather you lock me in the brig, to be honest,” you replied anxiously, “not to spoil things but Sabaody will not be… uneventful… and I have no way of defending myself. I'm a decent shot with a rifle from a stationary position but I have no experience with fighting. I only know how to shoot because my dad used to take me hunting, I'd be no good in a real fight. I'll just be a burden out there.”

“Fine, but if you turn out to be full of shit, don't think we won't drag you straight to the closest human auction house,” Kid threatened.

“Noted,” you shivered, hoping like hell that you just being in this world hadn't already fucked up the series of events due to play out. You weren't keen on getting branded and sold off to some Celestial cunt. Being used like a sex doll was only fun if it was with your favourite boys.

“Heat, get her cleaned up,” Kid barked before standing, “you're dismissed.”

Heat quickly picked you up bridal style and carried you out of the room without another word before Kid could change his mind, eager to have you to himself again. He'd clean you up, for sure, but not before he put his own mark on you.

[Next Chapter]

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xetlynn · 9 months ago

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Twilight- Unknowing- Book Three: Chapter One, Transformation

(Alice x Reader x Jasper)

[Thirteen] [One] [Two]

I couldn't hold on much longer, the pain was getting more and more excruciating after the blood settled in and we were getting to the point that if I didn't do the transformation now, my body would do it on its own.

Something I don't know if I'm ready for. Originally it was for everyone else, I didn't know if I was going to be dangerous or not.

Now it's because I'm scared of how long it's going to last. I knew I was frustrating everyone.

They needed me to do it. So, since my dad thinks I'm sick with something mysterious, Carlisle told him I need to see a doctor he knows for two weeks in Alaska, so I can finish the transformation. Now here we are.

"[Name] are you sure you don't want me to go?" He questions me, I hum, nodding my head as I pack my bags.

"Dad, it will only worry you even more, think that I'm on a trip at mom's house or something." I told him. Alice and Jasper were in my bedroom with me, helping me since I got too weak to really hold anything.

Jasper takes my bag, putting it over his shoulder. "I just, I feel like I need to be there." He frowns, leaning against my doorway.

"I would like it if you stayed here. I don't want you to see me in a hospital bed. Also, you need to be here to make sure Bella isn't with Edward the whole time." I tease him, knowing how much he dislikes Edward. He's actually pretty cordial with Jasper and Bella compared to him.

My partners didn't leave me out in the woods like he did with my sister. He thinks we had a mutual break up when in reality it was pretty similar with Bella only I'm not a human. I had the choice to leave with them. She did not.

"Don't remind me." He lets out a strong sigh, Alice and Jasper quietly snickers. I smile at them, then back to Charlie.

"And another thing, you used all your pto with work so you wouldn't even be able to get out for two weeks like I am." I add on to the trying to explain why it's best to let me go to Alaska for two weeks by myself to a doctor.

"Okay, okay, I get it. You don't want me to come. I understand. Just please update me." He comes over and hugs me. I feel my bones crack from the hug since I've barely moved and this transition is making me more and more human. Weak, very, very weak.

He lets me go, backing away to look at me. His face was saddened. Probably by the lack of color in my features, my eyes sunken in, and cracked lips. "We should probably get going, Chief Swan." Jasper speaks up, his hand finding the small of my back, Alice smiling politely in agreement at Charlie.

"Right," he backs out of my room, moving out of our way. "Right, I'll see you in two weeks, [Name]. Thank you guys for taking her, Alice, Jasper." He nods his head at them. "See you." I wave to him.

"Of course, sir." Alice pats his shoulder in passing. "It's no problem." Jasper adds in, leading me out of the door. My dad watches us leave from the window of the house.

I notice in my peripheral vision as Jasper helps me get into his car. Alice sits in the back with me. Jasper is driving and Carlisle is in the passenger seat. Carlisle looks back to me as I lay my head down on Alice's lap.

"You know if this takes longer I think he will push on your boundaries and try to come to the hospital." He tells me, I scrunch my nose. "I know." I close my eyes, feeling the pain start to kick in.

The bumps on the road really bring out more discomfort. I feel Jasper repeatedly trying to take away my pain, it's subtle. He takes away the anger and confusion I have, which helps.

The anger triggers more pain so it really, truly helps when he does it. Even if it's for ten minutes or shorter. I know they're trying to help me be as comfortable as possible before the worst of it.

Originally we were just going to have me do it at their house but we thought about hikers. If they hear my screams and animalistic noises they could call authorities so we're going to Alaska. Thankfully and this shows how rich he is, Carlisle got a private jet so if I do scream he's the one piloting.

No outside people.

"What if I do it accidentally on the plane?" I ask him, now worried. "We'll figure it out." Alice pets my hair back, playing with it as I look up at her. "Just like Alice says, that's not something you have to worry about." Carlisle assures me.

I feel bad now, knowing they have to go through all this trouble just for knowing Bella and I. How much trouble we've brought them. I just wish if I could I would've never brought myself into their lives knowing what I know now.

I would've loved the wolf that originally imprinted on me and NEVER spoke with Alice or Jasper.

The incarnate bullshit would've never happened.

I groan from the pain of Jasper turning the car, now gripping onto Alice's knee. Letting out a huff as we come to a stop. "Are you alright?" He questions me, turning to look at me. We are at the airport now.

"Just certain movements, it hurts." I truthfully say, Alice helps me sit up and we get out of the vehicle. Jasper gives his keys to the valet.

Carlisle takes my bag from Alice and both she and Jasper treat me like a glass doll as they help me up the stairs of the private jet.

"I can do it, you know?" I timidly snap at them, not meaning to but due to my emotions being all over the place and this being my situation it's bound to happen.

It's been happening numerous times and every single time they apologize to me knowing I don't mean to do it to them. "Just be careful." Alice whispers, watching every step I make nervously. Once I get inside the plane I feel my knees want to give out so I take the nearest seat possible. Esme was already inside to greet me.

"Hey, sweetheart." She smiles, giving me a small hug. "Hi, Esme." I weakly hug her back with one arm. She was Carlisle's co-pilot, as if he needed one.

"Alright," Carlisle pretends to struggle with the door, just for the people outside who's watching him. "Let's get this going. We have a 4 and a half hour flight." He informs us, I put a thumbs up. Alice and Jasper acknowledge it before he goes into the cockpit.

The plane ride was smooth, Alice and Jasper pampering me religiously. Giving me blood bags that they hid in cups just in case I needed one in public. Covering me in blankets when I have cold spurts. Then putting ice on my forehead during the heat ones. I feel like a sick dog that the whole family makes sure doesn't die in his last years even though they really need to put him down but they can't give him up just yet.

Luckily I didn't start the transformation, but the pain was like it knew we were getting closer and closer. Tanya met us at the airport with a large car, big enough for me to lay a little bit in while putting my head on someone's lap. She greets me with a smile.

"It's nice to finally meet you." She says with a grin, opening the door for us. Jasper and Esme climbs into the back so we can be in the middle seats and I have that room to lay down.

"You as well." I mutter through gritted teeth as the pain still was there. "I wish it was under better circumstances." She quietly says as I get into the car, Alice following behind. "Thank you for doing this, Tanya." Carlisle thanks her, she bows her head in response.

"Irina's not too happy but it will be okay." She tells him and then I remember. Irina was the one who was courted by Laurent. Flashes of his death settle in my head and I frown.

"I appreciate it, we'll be out of your hair when it's over." Carlisle then gets in the car, Tanya walking to the drivers side and doing the same thing. I let my head fall to Alice's lap during the fast car ride.

Thankfully the faster the car the less I feel the bumps so it hurts less. I feel Jasper's hand finding mine over the seat and I open my eyes to look at him, his head resting on the seat in front of him, looking down at me. I smile at him, he does it back.

Pulling up to the house was the most painful, the bumps into the driveway. "We have a cottage in the woods, it's even further from the house and nothing for miles." I hear Kate say as we're getting out of the large car.

"Thank you." Carlisle thanks her just like he did with Tanya. I can feel myself getting hot. I stop walking and take a breath. "I can't move." I grunt, holding myself.

Alice comes over to me lightning fast. Jasper was already behind me. Jasper hands Alice the stuff he had in his hands and lifts me up carefully bridal style. The coldness he gives off helps, I immediately lean against his chest trying to breathe it out.

"I can feel it starting." I tiredly mumble to Jasper. I feel him panic. "We need to get to that cottage.Now." He tells everyone, the sisters lead them to the cottage, using the vampire ability to go fast.

Getting to the small cottage Jasper lays me down on the bed that has everything off of it. Which I'm grateful for because I probably would've destroyed it. "Alright [Name] you need to let go now, you need to let it happen." Carlisle instructs me and I squeeze my eyes.

"I'm scared." I cry out, not even wanting to open my eyes. "Lovebug, just get it over with." She whispers to me, moving my hair out of my face as I grip onto the mattress. Sweat trickling down my face. "It's going to hurt." I whine.

"Darling you've been hurting for almost a month now. You can get it over with and never deal with pain again." Jasper jumps in.

I start breathing fast and heavily, getting myself ready and when I do it was like a pain I've never felt before.

Worse than the first time I transformed into a vampire. The burning sensation feels like thousands of people using hot irons on my body at the hottest they could be.

As when I was turning into a vampire it was more of a fire sensation. I try to hold in my screams, muffling it by biting my own hand. "[Name] it's okay to scream." Esme says to me, I try to say something but I can't, it comes out in a loud noise I never thought I could make.

It is ten times louder than any loud noise I've ever heard. I even saw Tanya or one of the sisters, I can't tell with my blurry vision, plugging her ears. After that I wasn't able to hear anything around me.

Not even the own noises I was creating. Not knowing if I was screaming or grunting. Anything. No voices made sense, they were muffled.

"She- I'm- Why!?" I heard Alice's voice. I gripped onto the mattress, on my stomach as I brought my knees to my chest.

The insufferable pain is only getting worse.

(Change of point of view)

"What do we do!?" Alice questions even though she already knows the answer herself. Of course she knows but hearing her girlfriend's screaming and groaning in pain. And knowing the fact that it could last up to three weeks. "Alice, I think it's best for you to leave the room for right now." Carlisle places a hand on her shoulder, he watches the girl stare at [Name], looking like she wants to do something, ready to kill something to stop her girlfriend's pain.

Jasper was trying to attempt to take her pain, even though that has nothing to do with his ability he wants to try for her. At Least before he was able to take her anger that stunted some of the pain. Now they're both just standing there useless.

Carlisle was the one to give the updates to Charlie. After the third day of updates, Charlie was getting antsy wanting to just hear his daughter's voice. So, of course Carlisle had to make up a believable lie coming as a doctor.

"She's been vocalizing her pain a lot more, causing her to lose her voice. She's going to go into surgery to take out her appendix and tonsils. Those are what have been making her sick but due to the extremity of it and the infection it could put her in a medical coma that will last two weeks. When she wakes up we will call you to come see her. The hospital is not letting any visitors due to an illness going around. We have cousins here and when she's out of the hospital if you'd like or we'll take her straight back home." Carlisle explains to him.

"Just take her home right away please." Charlie pleads, his voice breaking. He doesn't understand what Carlisle is saying but he tries his best and just believes him.

By day seven [Name] was making animalistic noises, growling at some points. Her thrashing got to the point where they had to tie her down so she doesn't hurt herself more than she already has.

They won't hold her for long so every six hours they have to change the ties. "She's transitioning a lot faster than I've seen before, especially for someone who has waited this long to even transform." Carlisle observes her, you can barely tell but there's little changes.

When her eyes open you can see them being a more golden color. When the sun shows, which is rare for Alaska but when it does the shine that vampires normally have, isn't there on [Name].

"She ripped a little bit of the mattress." Alice motions to the bed, kind of tuning out the noises [Name] has been making. "We'll replace it." Carlisle says in a bored tone. Not that he is bored. Just feeling all the emotions they have been these past days has been overwhelming.

Esme walks over to him and holds his hand, knowing he's taking this on himself, already caring for [Name] like another daughter. He technically did die at 23 but his mind is way older. Being over 3 centuries old.

Going into day 12, they're all hoping the transformation is almost done. [Name] has calmed down, finally able to talk but her pain is still unbearable.

Coming in waves just like it did beforehand. Blood doesn't even help make it a little better.

Day 14 is going into the second week. [Name] looks exhausted. Her arms tied up on either side of the bed frame due to going into wolf episodes. Soon enough she's going to shape-shift so they take off the ties. She rubs her wrists, throwing her head back.

"I think the worst of it.. It's over." She huffs, then looks around her, the bed ripped up, the stuff inside of it coming out.

"You just have to turn into a wolf to finish it off." Carlisle tells her. Her eyes widened.

She was never going to use that ability. It was something that her and her lovers talked about. [Name] didn't feel comfortable doing it infront of vampires. Especially Irina.

"We'll take you out further into the woods to do it." Jasper tells her, already sensing her discomfort with the idea.

Esme helps Jasper with getting [Name] out of the bed. Getting her outside was a little difficult, her legs being weak from the transition.

But her senses her stronger than before. Her eyesight heightened along with her hearing and smell. Alice and Carlisle followed after them, the Denali sisters stayed behind but watched them go. "It's a quick transition and right when you're done we have clothes you can change into." Carlisle tells [Name], trying to make it a little easier and better for her to do.

"We'll be right at the cottage when you're done." Alice smiles at her once they get to the place she can transition at. "Leaving the clothes on this tree." Esme places clothes on a fallen tree.

[Name] keeps herself up against a tree. Taking energy from around her to help herself. Something she wasn't able to do before. Feeling herself get stronger she glances down at herself. She feels different, she didn't understand what it was though.

Not wanting to waste time at that, once she hears the cottage door open then close she focuses on transitioning.

At first nothing happened. "Wolves are emotional." She reminds herself. Wolves are emotional... She begins to make herself angry.

The fact that she is what she is right now starts to hit her. Having to be different from not only her sister who is a human, her lovers who are vampires and now her childhood best friend who is a wolf. She's both, stronger than all of them. She didn't want this. She didn't choose this.

She feels the same tingle she's felt before but instead of warmth it's just a tingle.

She sees the steam emit from her body then her clothes begin to rip and her body shifts into a large wolf.

A large, white/tan wolf with bright red/gold eyes. She howls in the sky, letting them know she transitioned.

After a few moments she shifts back into her normal form. Quickly she changes into her clothes. Picking up the ripped ones off the ground and racing back to the cottage.

When she slams the door open she runs straight into Jasper and Alice's arms. "I did it!" She laughs excitedly.

They hold onto her tightly, happy to see her in a semi-normal state and not in pain at all.

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alpacaroni-and-cheese · 2 months ago

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Leah and Fatin, A Journey of Forgiveness

Spoilers for The Wilds seasons 1 and 2 Trigger warning for brief mention of a canon suicide attempt. Be safe before you read <3

Throughout the first season of Amazon Prime's series, The Wilds, you could be forgiven for thinking that Leatin (or Latin, for the OGs) was a rarepair. A crackship, if you will.

They had some intensely homoerotic moments (wiping your own blood on your rival's face? I see you, Fatin) and some deeply important and emotional moments (see my previous essay), but for most watchers of the show, they weren't much more than semi-strangers to lowkey friends to bitter enemies to close friends.

But then season 2 came out.

Forgive me, I'm getting ahead of myself.

Let's go back to the beginning of the season.

Leah has pulled herself out of a man-made pit designed by the experimenters who are threatened by her. She's so desperately close to unravelling the whole sick and twisted game, she just has to show the others the pit, and then they'll believe her.

When she gets back to the beach, however, there's no time to go looking for the pit, triumphant and vindicated, because Rachel is dying. A large portion of her arm has been bitten off by a shark. She needs a hospital and trained professionals, but the best they have are antibiotics and an understanding that bleeding is bad. The open wound is cauterised and bandaged to within an inch of its life.

Did I mention all of this is happening while epiphany by Taylor Swift plays in the background? Soul destroying stuff.

Anyway, now that Rachel isn't actively dying, Leah can drag Fatin away to find the pit, but it's gone.

Leah can't believe it. She knows it was real, and she knows Nora put her in there. She knows she didn't imagine it, but the proof is all gone. The truth has once again slipped through her fingers.

Fatin, on the other hand, is only growing more and more concerned for Leah. For some context, Leah's near-drowning experience only happened just a couple of days prior, so from Fatin's perspective, this could easily be a worsening of Leah's mental state. If she's hallucinated this pit, then she's quickly going to become a greater danger to herself and to the others. Fatin now not only has to especially worry about Rachel, but Leah as well.

And Fatin is tired. She's exhausted, and her threads are pulled taut, ready to snap.

The episode jumps ahead a little, just a few days, and we see that Leah is still searching for the pit. She's disappearing for hours at a time, under the pretence of doing something vaguely useful (like gathering wood for the signal fire) but returning with little to no real progress made.

Fatin notices all this, because of course she does.

She tries to convince Leah it was just a mirage, but Leah doesn't budge. She can't budge, because finding the pit is her only real way of knowing she hasn't completely lost it.

The group is moving camp from outside on the beach to inside the forest, so everybody is gathering up their stuff and moving it in-land. Leah's helping, sort of, but she's still lost in her spiral.

Leah believes that she needs answers, and the person who can best give her those answers is lost to the waves, presumed dead. So she goes for the next best thing, too caught up in her own monsoon of guilt, paranoia and unflinching desire to find the truth to realise that the answers she's trying to find are not as important as protecting Rachel's fragile heart and mind.

Before anyone can step in and stop the inevitable fracturing, she prods, and Rachel implodes.

All of the girls rush forward to Rachel. Some, like Toni, stand guard, facing Leah and warning her not to come closer. Others, like Shelby and Martha gently soothe and comfort Rachel, whose grief and guilt is on full display.

Fatin, however, is furious.

She grabs Leah and drags her to the cliffs, shoving her up against the cliff-face.

She snarls, teeth bared in anger. Leah causing hurt to herself was bad enough, but the escalation to hurting Rachel was a step too far.

Fatin bites, tearing into the soft, exposed underbelly.

"You take your delusions, and you take your theories, and you fucking bury them, now! And if you ever take them within 100 feet of Rachel again, I'll fucking kill you."

These words will haunt her, but she has a point. Leah was wrong for interrogating Rachel.

Confronted with the fact that she hurt Rachel, and exhausted of the ceaseless noise bouncing around in her head that something is wrong, Leah makes a decision. A bad one.

She overdoses. Later, she'll say she didn't really want to die, she just wanted to stop feeling.

We don't see the immediate fallout, episode 2 picks up a couple of days later. Leah is near-catatonic, lying on a bed of bamboo. Rachel is nearby, in a similar state.

Fatin, Toni and Dot sit together close by, and Fatin is tearing strips off clothing to make new bandages for Rachel.

Fatin is scared. More scared than she's ever been before in her life. She's filled with guilt, and wishing she didn't have to deal with this reality.

So she pretends that she doesn't care, because that's easier than facing her fear and her guilt. She knows, deep down, that despite her anger being righteous, she went too far.

"What matters is, she's alive, and she's finally fucking quiet."

Rachel, who is sick of being babied, and likely just a bit pissed off at Fatin's insensitivity, resolves to get Leah up and moving herself. To the surprise of all present, it works. Leah breaks out of her catatonia and stumbles after her.

They spend some time together, sharing a real, honest conversation. They've spoken to each other before, obviously, but this is the first time each one is sharing their true selves. No more facades of being a better person than they are, no more ulterior motives. Just Leah and Rachel.

They forgive each other, and themselves, forging an unbreakable bond.

They bring out in each other the first real joy they've felt in days, maybe even weeks (just look at their faces!).

Fatin sees Leah healing, and shares in her joy. Although, maybe now she's starting to have some revelations...

2x03 sees Leah and Rachel spending more time together. Their bond deepens, and the two characters who have been the most tense for the entire duration of the show, finally get to be relaxed.

"Well if I had one that counted the number of hours since my last neurotic thought, I would be at like, a hundred."

They gather bamboo to make repairs for the beds at camp, when Leah realises something. They can make instruments out of the bamboo.

Multiple hours of practice later, they arrive back at camp, proudly holding their crudely-but-lovingly-made instruments.

They play Home by Edward Sharpe and the Magnetic Zeros. It's a little off-key ("She's flat, but fuck me.") but the heart is there, and soon everyone is singing along.

Martha is dancing, Rachel and Dot are singing their hearts out, and Toni and Shelby are busy making googly eyes at one another.

And Leah?

Well, she makes her way over to Fatin.

She sings, "Home is whenever I'm with you," while cradling Fatin's face in her hands. Fatin melts, understanding the message, and falling even further in love.

In a tumultuous, traumatic time of their lives, filled with misery, guilt, shame, fear, depression, anxiety, paranoia, and bone-deep exhaustion they'll probably never fully recover from, this one simple gesture says everything.

I heard all you said. I felt your teeth tear my weary flesh. I bled from your wounds, but that's over now. I understand why.

I forgive you.

#the wilds #fatin jadmani #leah rilke #leatin #leah x fatin #did i cry writing this?#yes #multiple times what of it #they make me emotional okay #i miss them #the wilds 2x01-2x03 analysis

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muiitoloko · 4 months ago

Note

Please have a sequel of "Perfume of Deceit" 😭

Title: The Return on Investment

Summary: Discovering infidelity, a woman transforms her anguish into a strategic plan to reclaim her power.

Pairing: Lionel Shahbandar × Fem! Reader

Warnings: Jealousy, Revenge, Anger, Pain, and Angst.

Author's Notes: Y'all really like angst 😅

First, Second and Third part here.