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justporo · 1 year ago

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Bedroom Hymns

A still empty new home somwhere in the Upper City of Baldur's Gate. Nothing but a big mattress on the floor of your bedroom where Astarion and you have spent some days already, mostly naked, just indulging in whatever you want - and each other of course, whenever the flames started blazing. This time a spark is ignited when Astarion sees how his old shirt looks on you, how well it suits you. (NSFW)

PART 2 | MASTERLIST | AO3

Author's Note: This is... just dirty smut. I have been thinking about writing this for literal months. But I'm happy I did because when Tav describes how she's become more confident? That's me just describing how I feel about writing smut. And yes, there will be a second part - with even more. Happy 2k followers, my dear horny gremlins!

Pairing: Astarion/Fem!Tav (You) Warnings: explicit sexual content, oral sex (female receiving), premature orgasm, light dom/sub dynamic (if you squint but really they're both just taking the piss out of each other) Wordcount: 4,5k ~~~

A lot of things in your life had gone wrong - more than you could possibly ever count. Sometimes you had even wondered how you had even survived this far. In the last couple of months you had asked yourself that question quite a lot actually.

But then some things had gone very right. Often without you even knowing what was in store for you beforehand.

As you laid on your side on a single thick plush mattress in a massive room with deep red silk tapestries on the wall and polished wooden floors, high ceilings adorned with a shimmering and glittering chandelier in your newly acquired home in Baldur’s Gate, you realised that this was one of those things that had gone terribly right.

But all this wasn't even the best. The best thing that had - quite frankly - ever happened to you was lying right next to you: almost completely naked, only partly covered by some blankets and sheets, just as you were, and at the moment lecturing you on the importance of a coherent design concerning furniture, decor and colours. Long, elegant fingers waved around, gesticulating while full, soft lips kept moving, often smiling - occasionally allowing sharp fangs to be seen beneath - and red eyes began to glow whenever their gaze fell on you.

A small lantern was bathing the large and tall room in some cosy orange light - barely reaching the far corners of the room. It was almost reminiscent of all the nights you had spent in camp with nothing but the moon, stars and a crackling campfire for light. The mattress though was easily an impressive upgrade from your tattered bedrolls despite it being the only piece of furnishing the two of you currently owned.

You had stopped paying attention a fair while ago while Astarion kept waving his arms around, looking from you - softly nodding in agreement without hearing the words - to the ceiling and around the empty room. His curls were delightfully messed up and unorderly, making him look even more handsome for how at ease he was. And the easy smile that didn't seem to leave his lips these days, took quite a lot of those torturous years right off his face.

Your heart fluttered every time he looked over at you, with his bright red eyes sparkling at you and his smile involuntarily growing even broader.

And you saw the rest too: how he elegantly gesticulated with those skilled hands, how the muscles in his arms and chest flexed as he couldn't be bothered to keep still for just a second, the room never silent as long as he was there. You had fallen into easy, natural companionship with each other - as if you’d known each other for centuries already.

What choices you had made to end up right here, right now, you didn’t know. But you surely wouldn’t have changed a thing if this was to be the glorious result.

“Wouldn't you agree, my heart?” Astarion asked you, halting his ongoing infodump. He was looking at you. And by the way one of his eyebrows was raised critically he must have noticed your lapse in attention.

But in your defence, the way his lower abdomen disappeared in the sheets he had carelessly wrapped around his hips - at a very low point - would have distracted just about anyone. The way the lines of his muscles defined his lower body. Especially those two converging lines, starting at his slender hips, then going lower, leading to his…

Astarion cleared his throat. You'd been distracted yet again.

“Darling, you have all the time in the world for staring, you don't need to get it done all at once.”

“I like being a step or two ahead though, love.”

The vampire scoffed and crossed his arms over his chest in annoyance. You saw how it made his muscles contract just a tad and you bit your lip unconsciously.

“I know, darling, you're so diligent. But my eyes are up here, my sweet,” he answered. You heard the vicious teasing in his tone.

You ripped your gaze from his delectable torso and let it wander to his equally delectable face. He was grinning wolfishly at you, one eyebrow twitching up playfully. And now you couldn't help but blush a little. He often had that effect on you.

Astarion simply liked being looked at, and you - well - liked looking at him. But in his defence, he was also very good at reversing the roles, making you flustered whenever he couldn’t tear his eyes from you in return as if undressing you and having you right then and there in his mind even when you were in public. With the way he stared at you now, eyes slowly becoming half-lidded, you also had a fair idea where his mind was going right now.

Your vampire slowly turned to lay on his side, propping up his head on his arm, mirroring your pose exactly. A few of his curls were falling into his face when he slowly leaned forward, his smile already telling you what he was about. Some rustling you heard made you aware that the sheets around his hips were moving when he did. Your eyes flicked downward.

A small involuntary gasp left your lips when you noticed that the fabric had slipped even lower, the man now even more precariously covered than before. Your thoughts immediately took a tumble and stopped being coherent.

Astarion clicked his tongue, his free hand grabbed your chin firmly and made you look at him once more: “Love, we really need to talk about the fact how you lose the ability to focus so quickly.” The wolfish grin was back and he even leaned in a little bit closer still, causing the sheets to slide down just a bit more. A desperate noise caught deep in your throat.

You coughed.

“In my defence, Astarion, you’re almost completely naked”, you whispered as his smirking lips hovered over yours.

“So are you, darling, but you don’t see me losing focus, do you?” Astarion replied, his voice dropping low until it was merely more than a rumble. His crimson eyes took their time as they wandered over every single one of your elegant curves. His tongue darted out to wet his lips unconsciously while with his eyes he devoured your naked body outlining against the dark of the room with the help of warm lantern light sharply illuminating the details of your form.

You swallowed and felt some pressure forming between your legs. The kind you had felt relentlessly almost all the time since you had fallen onto this single piece of furnishing you had bought so far for your new home.

By now it must have been a couple of days of the two of you just hanging out barely clothed in your new almost empty bedroom - just the huge mattress on the floor. And once you had fallen onto it, you hadn’t seen any sense in getting up again. Everything you needed was right there with you.

You had talked even more in the last couple of days than you had ever before. You had taken each other whenever lust had overcome you. And you had just allowed the exhaustion of months and months of fights, adventures and not knowing if you would live to see another sunrise to slowly leave both your bodies. Just sinking into the soft bedding, knowing you could let yourself fall fully with each other around, relaxing and recovering.

Well, you almost didn’t leave the makeshift bed. Only when some carnal urges, that Astarion very unfortunately couldn’t fulfil all by himself, were reminding you that you were still just a mortal did you get up and snuck out of the room. Always coming back to Astarion dramatically claiming he'd barely survived without your attention when you fell back into his arms on return.

Unfortunately you felt some of those urges creeping up on you this very moment, as Astarion was leaning in, about to initiate what surely would become another mind bending tumble in the sheets. But this would have to wait - at least for a few moments now.

And also he could get his ego knocked down a bit for being all too cocky just a few moments ago.

When the vampire was about to close his eyes to kiss you, you rolled back. And with that movement grabbed the blanket that was covering you and threw it at Astarion’s expectant face. As you heard him hiss you slid off the mattress with a cackle and grabbed the first piece of clothing you saw before you quickly, with bare feet, ran to slip out of the bedroom. The vampire ripped the blanket off his face, got to his knees and tried to grab you before you could leave his den but you were just as quick as him.

You heard Astarion curse under his breath but you were already closing the door behind you. The last thing the vampire saw of you, was how you had pulled on his old shirt and how it didn’t fully cover your butt as you slipped out the door, leaving barely anything to his vivid imagination.

Astarion cursed you under his breath and remained kneeling there, a martyr forced to give up his everything (temporarily). At least the view could have been worse. Thinking about how you had looked in his shirt immediately sent a jolt between his legs, making his length throb with need for you as he sat there and mourned the temporary loss of his lover. Only his imaginative mind kept him company until you came back.

When you returned shortly after you had brought a bottle of wine and two chalices (only bought yesterday on a whim) to make up for your rash departure. You slowly opened the door with your bare foot since both your hands were full and found Astarion exactly as you left him.

He was kneeling on the mattress still, the sheets draped over his thighs almost artfully, only barely covering him now. His hands were placed palm up on his wide spread legs, almost as if he was in prayer. And fitting with this was his bowed head, eyes closed, his ruffled curls covering part of his beautiful face.

Ethereal was the only word you could think of at that moment. Astarion looked like the statue of a forgotten god with how he knelt there: every single detail crafted to perfection. The light of the lantern illuminated every line of his naked body, giving the illusion of being carved out of immaculate marble capturing every single one of his sharp lines that worked so well in contrast to your softer ones.

And for some reason it seemed this unreal looking being had chosen to come down from his place among all other divine powers to bow down at your feet. And more even: he had devoted himself to you, body and soul, for the rest of his immortal days to lavishly praise you with all he had to offer.

You gasped as you took him in. Almost not being able to believe how you had gotten so lucky.

The vampire’s head snapped up when he heard the soft, low sound. The illusion of a statue, forever held captive in stone in perfect but lifeless detail, was broken. But the actual thing was so much better anyways. Astarion’s crimson eyes glinted at you in the low light, his body flexed, stone becoming liquid, while you slowly closed the door behind you again.

The vampire eyed you, drinking in the view of you wearing his shirt now being allowed more than just a glimpse: the sleeves sliding down your arms and bunching up around the elbows, the way the fabric spanned over your hips and thighs.

But mostly the vampire was mesmerised by how your breasts outlined against this old shirt of his: part of them obscured by the ruffles, but especially their peaks - hardened by the cold air - were clearly visible to him and made Astarion lose his focus for once. Seeing you this way immediately made lust rise up within him way more than any fantasy could, causing his length between his legs to twitch and slowly harden.

Feeling the tension in the room shift remarkably, you slowly stepped closer to your makeshift bed again. You saw desire light up the vampire’s eyes as he kept gazing upon you. His lips had parted and his expression spoke of nothing but hunger for you as he couldn’t get enough of the view of you wearing his clothes.

Maybe he wasn’t so much a heavenly being that had descended to you but something out of the most fiercely burning part of the hells, ready to drag you down with him and never let you leave again. You swallowed and felt how the vampire’s heated gaze alone made you feel a little hazy.

Had you known it was this easy to turn the table on Astarion in his own little game, you would have done this much earlier. And oh, what irony that while you could barely form a coherent thought once the vampire was naked before you, for him it was you putting on his old, almost threadbare camp shirt that seemingly made the pale elf forget everything else but how good it looked on you. And what it meant to him: that you were his.

The intensity on his face as he kept staring at you without moving was almost predator like and made you rub your thighs together in a desperate attempt to control the beginning pulses between your legs. But the damage was already done. And as if emboldened by the vampire’s attention you felt your hardening nipples rub against the fabric of Astarion’s shirt, pronouncing them even more and making you overly aware of them.

“Come here, darling,” the pale elf asked of you, lazily stretching out an arm towards you. All you could do in response was helplessly wave the bottle of wine and the chalices around, because some pragmatic part in your brain was still working and telling you that your hands were still full.

Astarion frowned slightly at you, annoyed by the delay in you obeying his demand.

“Put it down and then come here,” he ordered in a brisker tone now, you saw his gaze darkening as he almost growled at you.

And of course you followed his demand. There was nothing more you wanted actually as you looked down upon your nearly naked lover before you - demanding you join him again in your bed.

Hastily, you placed down the bottle and the cups and then moved over to Astarion. He was stretching out his arms to you, motioning to you to come sit on his lap.

You didn’t hesitate, but you didn’t rush either now. You placed one on one of his thighs, causing the fabric of his shirt to ride up your thigh so much that you were sure that he must be able to see your swelling core from his position. Immediately one of his hands slid up your pointed foot and over your shin, around to your calf, squeezing the muscle lightly, before it went on to the sensitive underside of your bare thigh.

And of course his eyes were immediately drawn to you bared before him, almost hypnotised and making a grunt catch in his throat at the sight of what you had to offer him. His crimson gaze found yours, his brows drawn together. You stayed like this in a moment of perfect stillness as you kept looking at each other, knowing that you’d be doomed to be each other’s continuous downfall. Then Astarion bit his lips, one canine catching on his bottom lip, his gaze falling back to what lay beneath your legs.

This alone was getting you so worked up that you let your head roll back and allowed a small but desperate moan to leave your lips. Astarion laughed softly at that, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. You moaned again and enjoyed the content humming you earned in response to your openly shown pleasure.

Months ago you would have been way too hesitant to act like this - not directly ashamed but surely too shy to really express yourself, to fully indulge. But Astarion had surely made your confidence rise to unknown heights with the way he always praised you, how he hungered for you and always made it known how much he desired you. And with teaching and showing you what pleasures he could let you have if only you trusted him. And you had done that from the beginning, your belief in him stronger than better judgement.

So there you were, spreading yourself to your lover, while you could observe his cock beginning to twitch below the thin sheets. This with how the corners of his mouth curled up into an almost feral grin was more than enough proof that you’d been doing it right, that he’d taught you well.

It made you feel powerful, knowing how you could make him lust for you. And it heightened your own pleasure knowing how easily you could turn him on.

“Darling,” Astarion mumbled, the tip of his tongue running over his bottom lip as you saw him basically salivating at the sight of you becoming a drenched mess for him, “would you mind coming just a little bit closer?” His gaze flicked from your core to you and then back down. He was eager and insatiable.

“Say please?”

His gaze snapped to yours, eyes narrowed while you grinned, both of you remembering a specific moment months ago when you had teased him just like that. And just like back then he would make you regret it later.

He rolled his head around, loosened his shoulders with an annoyed, dramatic sight.

“Please”, he basically purred when his head came back around.

Oh sure, if he was nice like that, you would come closer. You gave him a pleased smile and withdrew your leg from his, making Astarion’s unwilling hand drop to his thigh while he criticised the loss with a disgruntled groan. But you moved quickly to make up for it.

You stepped on the mattress, already incredibly close to him and enjoyed how attentively he stared up at you, patiently awaiting you now. It was almost fooling you how obediently he had been so far, how he waited for you. But seeing the mischievous sparkle in his ruby eyes and his signature smirk play on his lips told you that he was only playing coy until he had you where he wanted you.

Still you drew out the moment, enjoying your moment of having the upper hand. You let one hand enter his already dishevelled hair and began caressing his scalp with slow circles of your fingertips.

“You’re such a good, patient boy today, Astarion,” you teased him sweetly as you watched his eyes roll back from your soft, sensual caress. One eyebrow twitched at your praise. You knew he liked being praised. But then his gaze snapped back and his hands shot around your legs and pulled you in close against him by grabbing your butt.

You yelped and almost lost balance. Your hands searched for hold on his naked shoulders and the vampire had you firmly in his grasp. His splayed fingers squeezing your buttcheeks, half-covered by the shirt. He pressed his face between your legs. His long, straight nose almost already reached the swelling, sensitive bud there.

A helpless whimper escaped you and Astarion lifted his face again.

“Not so feisty now, are we? Don’t make me become impatient with you, sweetheart,” he told you in a mocking tone, pursing his lips, enjoying the view of you above him and emphasising his point with a firm slap on your butt. You merely gasped in response. Your mind was still trying to catch up.

“Now, move!”, he commanded with another low growl and wasted no time by moving one of your thighs to lift up your leg and placing it on his shoulder. You were balancing on one leg now. But your vampire was holding you securely, both hands on your ass again and pulling you as close as possible.

The fabric had already bunched up over your spread thigh now but you saw the unspoken command in Astarion’s narrowed eyes as he positioned you on himself and you lifted the shirt higher with one hand while letting the other enter his hair again.

And then Astarion wasted no more precious time and pressed his face between your legs again - now with no more fabric getting in his way. The tip of his tongue immediately and effortlessly found your pulsating clit and began working on it while his hands squeezed your butt deliciously.

Without hesitation he pressed his open mouth to your heated core, sucking on it and his tongue circling over and around the sensitive peak there, sending a million little lightning jolts through your body that quickly became stronger, conjuring a thunderstorm.

You moaned loudly now, not being able to control any of it anymore. Your hand formed a fist in his hair, nails scratching his scalp, which he answered with a pleased growl and pressing his tongue even harder against your clit.

He drove you up that mountain so quickly and violently you began seeing stars already while he kept pleasuring you with his eager mouth. The way he sucked on you, let his tongue slide between your folds and inside of you, having you almost fully climb onto his face, and the way you felt even his fangs graze you ever so lightly at your most sensitive part made you quickly lose all control.

Somewhere in the back of your mind clouded with boundless lust you were thankful that he held you so firmly it hurt, because your legs were both shaking uncontrollably the longer and fiercer he kept going. With glazed over eyes you allowed yourself to look down and enjoy the view of your lover devouring you as if he had been only put on this plane of existence to please you in this way. It amplified the pressure you felt building up in your lower body tenfold.

You neared the edge at breakneck speed. And your body was desperate for release, knowing the orgasm would be vicious. But there was something else you wanted. Instinctively you knew that he himself must be aching. You didn’t need to see his massive erection straining the sheets around his hips and the telltale wet spot at its peak to know that it was there - and to know that you wanted to feel him inside of you.

“Astarion,” you groaned breathlessly and used the rest of your control to pull on his hair. But you achieved nothing, merely making him almost purr from the exquisite pain you inflicted by pulling on his hair. He slapped your ass again. So hard you knew it would leave his handprint on your delicate skin this time. That and the sting from it made you bite your lip to barely stifle another desperate moan.

And then the last of your ability to form a simple coherent thought crumbled, the sheer, primal lust inside you taking over when Astarion changed the pace to some slow, hard movements with the tip of his tongue directly over your swollen clit. You gave in to it.

It was inevitable anyway. Only a few more flicks of the vampire’s skilled tongue and you were falling, your cunt throbbing violently despite nothing to clench around.

Your hand was tugging hard on Astarion’s hair again, making him growl. Your face was contorted in overpowering pleasure as the stars you had seen before blew up to a whole firmament and made you lose your vision for a moment from how bright everything had become. Breathless, almost soundless noises left your wide open mouth as you scattered into a million pieces. And only Astarion’s firm arms around you made sure they would all stick together again once you would come down from your own galaxy again.

The vampire kept going for a few more swipes, pushing you just a tad further before it became fully unbearable and then withdrew to enjoy the fruits of his labour, your wetness coating his lips and chin. He absent-mindedly lapped it up as well as possible while he kept watching you writhe from the ecstasy he had provided you with.

When you had come back down enough from the high again to feel your own body, you slowly let your head fall forward again. Your legs felt weak and wobbly just as the rest of your body. You looked at your eager lover, who was licking up some of you from his lips still. Astarion looked mightily pleased with himself.

“That’s what you get for making me impatient, love,” he simply said and grinned haughtily, cocking his head as if he hadn’t just given you one of the most violent orgasms you had ever experienced - and hadn’t even allowed you to lay down for it.

He softly eased your leg off his shoulder but held you securely still to make sure you didn’t topple over. You softly tugged on his curls now and kept looking at him while still trying to catch your breath. The vampire placed soft kisses down the front of your shivering thighs after you had let the shirt drop again, his hands were carefully massaging your behind and the back of your thighs.

“Shame though,” you let out between gasps of air, “I would have loved to feel you inside of me.” You said it while you eyed his erect dick between his spread legs. The sight alone enough to get some pressure back up in your lower abdomen - despite your core still lazily throbbing from your last orgasm.

That made Astarion’s head snap back up again, his eyes sparkling at you as if asking how you still dared to talk back to him after what he had just made you experience. Then he closed his eyes and softly shook his head while his smirk turned wicked.

“Oh sweet darling,” he began and opened his eyes slowly to look at you from under his brows. His eyes were dark and the tip of his tongue darted out to lick over his lips focus wholly on you. The smirk grew even broader until you saw his fangs glint in the low lantern light.

His gaze was piercing, and his hands were once more squeezing your butt until it hurt pleasantly, plugging a whimper from you. You asked yourself if it had been clever to provoke a vampire who must be burning up with pleasure by now and aching for his own release judging by how you saw his erection twitch forcefully between his legs even with the fabric of the sheet covering it.

“What made you think I was even close to being done with you, my heart?”

PART 2

Taglist (DM if you want to be added please): @spacebarbarianweird @sunfire-ancunin @tragedybunny @dependsonthedream @tallymonster @magazzne @micropoe10 @aoirohi @my-bunny-prince @lumienyx @fayeriess @darlingxdragon @hereliesblackdragon @ayselluna @ajokeformur-ray @i-cant-get-into-my-other-account @rikuyrk06

#astarion #baldur's gate 3 #astarion ancunin #fanfiction #astarion x tav #bg3 spoilers #baldur's gate iii #baldurs gate #astarion x mc #astarion x oc #astarion x you #astarion x reader #bg3

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talesofesther · 2 years ago

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I guess that's love

Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Wednesday sees herself stuck in the memory of one night; the night you almost died. She feels it's her fault, your blood on her hands says as much.

A/N: This is loosely based on Can't Pretend by Tom Odell and After Hours by The Weeknd which was suggested by the lovely @abelvrla. Also, I think it's valid to say that this story is mostly me having fun with some of my favorite tropes, so idk if this turned out kinda bad or similar to any of my other works; but I do hope you can enjoy it anyway. <3

Word count: 4,5k of feelings.

Masterlist

It's red. All she sees is red.

It stains the white porcelain of the sink before going down the drain.

Blood never bothered Wednesday, one could say she enjoyed the sight of it.

Now, she's almost rubbing her hands raw. It's a hurried motion, she brushes the soap over her palm with urgency, clawing at her own skin under the running water; yet it's still there.

She feels a little nauseated. Maybe it's because her breathing is all over the place. Sometimes too fast; sometimes not fast enough, clogged up in her throat.

She washes. And washes. And… keeps washing. The skin of her hands becomes reddish. The blood — your blood — eventually, finally fades.

But does it really? Wednesday feels the stain to be permanent.

Looking down at her hands — her vision a little blurry but she doesn't think about that — she catches herself shaking. Her chest is impossibly tight, it hurts to feel the beating of her own heart.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to dread your death?

She's disoriented when she exits the bathroom, not registering immediately where she is. The white walls of the hospital hurt her eyes.

It's been such a long night.

Is it still night?

The tie around Wednesday's neck seems to be choking her. She reaches her hands up to loosen it, but the feeling doesn't go away. She discards the garment altogether.

That's when she notices the blood stains on the cuffs of her white shirt. She curses under her breath. She wants to throw up. Or change out of these ruined clothes, but it feels like a waste of time.

"…nesday? Wednesday!"

She looks up upon hearing the calls of her name, only to see Principal Weems regarding her with evident worry. She's a little paler than usual, the night definitely hasn't been kind to her either.

There are only a few doctors walking around, some of them give Wednesday a strange look as they pass her by. A pungent smell of disinfectant hangs in the air. The sky outside the window bleeds in soft shades of dark purple and orange — the sun is already rising to a new day.

"You need to get checked out too, follow me." Weems reaches out to Wednesday's shoulder, trying to guide her to an empty room.

Wednesday ignores it, shrugging off the hand on her shoulder. "Where is she?"

Weems avoids her eyes then, sighing exasperatedly because she knows arguing will lead her nowhere; "she's being treated, we'll be able to see her soon."

"I want to see her now," Wednesday states, before walking past Larissa without even knowing which door she should go to.

"She's in surgery, miss Addams," Weems insists, finality in her tone. "We'll only make things worse going there now."

It's funny, how you've always told Wednesday she should put herself out there more, not be afraid to feel or let people close. Yet now you only prove her right in her reasoning that emotions only exist to torture people. Not in a good way.

But she did it anyway, didn't she?

She allowed herself to feel things.

Wednesday is frozen to the pristine tiles, her nails almost piercing her skin as she clenches her fists.

"I'm worried too, but all we can do now is wait," Weems softens once she notices the shaking of Wednesday's body. She takes a careful step closer to the girl, "if you don't want to see a doctor come back to the school with me, take a shower, put some clean clothes on. I'll drive you back when we're allowed to see her."

—

The warm water soothed Wednesday's muscles, it washed away the dried blood from her hair and the dirt clinging to her skin. It was relieving.

She's now standing in front of the bathroom mirror and the reflection staring back at her is not one she easily recognizes. Her skin looks paler than usual — if that's even possible — there are dark circles around her eyes and even she has to admit she looks exhausted.

Wednesday reaches a hand to touch her abdomen, nimble fingers tracing the spot that should be ripped open but isn't. Not even a scar remains; no telltales that she had been stabbed just a few hours ago.

She shivers at the thought. Death's cold embrace is a little more taunting when seen up close.

For a fleeting second, Wednesday catches herself planning to go to your room — as she usually did most nights before she pushed you away. She would sit beside you on your bed, her shoulder would brush yours and she'd comment about how you could even sleep in a bed this small, yet she wouldn't pull away. She'd talk with you about how good it felt to drive a knife into the old pilgrim's heart. Maybe she'd even tell you she had been scared. Maybe you'd try to hold her hand and she'd let you, gripping you tighter than she should.

Your comfort was Wednesday's most prized secret. You were her favorite broken rule.

The salty taste of a tear on her lips brings Wednesday back to reality. The reality where she doesn't have a single scar on her body and you're in a hospital bed fighting to stay alive.

She dries her cheeks harshly, turning around to put on her sweater and dark pants.

—

It's 6 PM when Principal Weems brings her back to the hospital and Wednesday is finally allowed into your room.

There's a stillness to it that she hates. You are too still. Several tubes are attached to your body as you lay on the hospital bed, there are bandages around your torso, some of them faintly tainted red. The machine that tracks your heartbeat is beeping in a lazy rhythm.

Wednesday doesn't dare breathe as she walks closer, stopping right beside you so she can cast over each scrape on your skin.

There was too much blood loss, Weems had told her moments ago. Wednesday knew that, she was the one who kept what was left of your blood inside your body until the ridiculously slow help finally arrived.

Weems also told her the bullet was short of doing major damage, and that despite now being weak, you were lucky and should wake up within a few days.

It does absolutely nothing to set Wednesday's heart at ease.

You're too still.

She can barely see your chest moving with the soft breathing. Your features are so serene, so emotionless. She could say you're dead if she didn't know any better.

Wednesday doesn't move for several moments, it's almost as if she's afraid to. She holds herself stiff at your side, glaring at you as if you'd wake up only to hear her scolding.

She hates that this is the first time she's been this close to you, in what? Two or three weeks?

It feels unfair, unfitting. Like it's all wrong.

But she can't complain. It's her fault.

A vain attempt at keeping you safe. Maybe it only made things worse;

—

"You know, as far as dates go, this is pretty creative," you told her, dodging fallen logs and rocks as you walked amongst the woods.

Wednesday turned back to look at you with an unreadable expression, "no one said this was a date."

"What would you call it then?"

"Investigating."

You groaned, falling into step beside Wednesday. Just so you could see the heavenly way the moonlight shaped her features. There was fog in the cold air, trees nothing but dark silhouettes around you; it suited her. "You're no fun."

"Flattery will get you nowhere," Wednesday felt your hand brushing hers. She hated how it made her focus waver. "Besides, you're the one who agreed to accompany me."

"Of course I did," you explained easily, "you asked me to."

Wednesday gulped, things felt more intimate than they should when the only witnesses around you are trees.

"Why was that?" You dared take hold of her hand then, your cold fingertips closing around her own. She stopped abruptly, and you observed the way her shoulders tensed. "You say you don't need anyone, yet here I am."

Wednesday's breath turned shallow, she didn't feel like looking at you. Because you were right, it was a break in her pattern; her rules.

How'd you do it? How'd you get her to break her rules?

You came to stand before her, your other hand taking hold of her free one so you could pull her closer. And she let you. Another step and any left space between you will vanish.

"Why won't you tell me?" You asked for what felt like the millionth time, but you didn't really hope for an answer.

You're familiar with her. She allows you close; you hold her hand, you touch her cheek, you braid her hair. Yet she never tells you why she allows you to do it.

Wednesday kept her eyes focused somewhere on your lips, counting the specks of color there, still as a corpse.

She saw the ghost of a smile that came to your lips before you leaned closer. And alarms were blaring inside her head, her lungs aching because of how she refused to breathe; yet she didn't move away.

You kissed her softly, gently. Your lips mapped hers in a way that felt like it always should've been.

And she melted against you, her hands clutching yous.

But as all things do, as Goody warned her time and time again; it didn't last. Shockwaves cursed through Wednesday's body and she was taken to another reality.

A reality where you were screaming her name in one second, and the next you were laying on the dirty ground, a pool of blood forming under you.

Wednesday jumped away from you the second she came back to herself, her eyes wide and breathing frantically as she strived to not pass out from what she'd just witnessed in her mind.

You were speaking, trying to reach out for her again as you asked what was wrong.

Wednesday felt her eyes sting, all she could see was your blood on her hands.

—

Her vision from that night came back in the form of nightmares for many nights after. Getting Wednesday to start dreading sleep.

She remembers warning you to never come near her again just before she sprinted away, leaving you alone in the woods with no further explanation. She avoided you, accepting the fact you might hate her, but it was okay because you'd be doing it alive.

All in vain, because her vision became a reality anyway.

"How could you be so stupid?" Wednesday tells you, but only the hospital walls hear it. "Jumping in front of me like that, it was ridiculous. Don't you see it? That's why you should've stayed away."

It's useless, you won't wake up to hear her complaints.

Wednesday exhales sharply and turns away from you, "it shouldn't have happened, I tried to-" There's a lump in her throat, it tangles her words, "but you're so stubborn… If you die before me, I'll kill you, I will-"

I don't know what I'll do. Wednesday thinks to herself. She sits on the chair that's beside your bed, watching through the window as the sun hides behind Jericho's mountains.

"You're missing your stupid sunset," Wednesday finds herself whispering. A last attempt at getting you to open your eyes, because for some reason, you liked to see the ending of sunny days.

Nothing happens. You remain still. The beeping tracking your heart rate is still slow. The room remains too quiet.

Wednesday leans back on her chair, she stays motionless for several minutes; until her hand eventually finds you.

Wednesday wraps her fingers around the pulse point on your wrist, not trusting the machine to tell her you're not dead yet.

She holds tightly onto you. There's no one around to witness it.

—

You didn't wake up for four days. And every day, without failure, Wednesday came to see you. She'd sit beside your bed and wait, sometimes silent, sometimes speaking as if you'd talk back to her.

It was her own way of keeping herself calm, busy.

Though the sleepless nights were starting to take a toll on her; sour mood and thinner patience being her new normal, along with the dark circles around her eyes.

Every time she closes her eyes, she's back there — warm blood on her hands and your life slipping from her grasp — so she refuses to do it.

Enid has seen her roommate nap hunched over her desk too many times to not get worried, but with being shut out every time she asked what she could do to help, she eventually stopped.

Wednesday could hate you for messing up her life.

She doesn't.

—

The day you woke up, Wednesday was nowhere to be seen.

All of your friends came to see you, overwhelming you with love and tales about how each of them missed a part of you in their lives.

You felt sore all over, as if you'd been hit by a truck — getting shot then staying unconscious in bed for days will do that to someone, you figured.

Enid was the one who stayed to accompany you back to school when you were discharged from the hospital, along with Principal Weems, of course.

"It feels like I'm learning to walk all over again," you groaned, one hand coming up to clutch at your abdomen as you got to your feet.

"Take it slow, we've got time," Enid kindly held a hand out for you, which you promptly took.

There are a million questions swimming in your mind, losing these many days from your life feels strange. You halted but the world didn't.

You asked the one that you first thought of when you woke up; "Enid," you stop walking so you can look into her eyes, "how is Wednesday? Did she got hurt?"

A complicated array of emotions pass through Enid's features, too fast for you to put your finger on any of them. She looks at you with something akin to sympathy; "she's… fine." Enid chews on her bottom lip, pondering whether she should tell you or not. Naturally, she can't hold back, "she hasn't left your bedside once."

You must have looked rather surprised, because Enid keeps going; "it's true, there wasn't a day that she didn't come to see you."

You don't know how you should feel. You think it's unhealthy for your heart to be beating as fast as it is right now after what you've just been through, but you can't get it to slow down, not when such a bomb is dropped on you.

Almost a month ago, Wednesday told you to never come near her again. Today, Enid tells you she's been by your side this whole time.

"Why?" You ask.

Enid doesn't know the answer.

—

It feels like a fever dream. Your bullet wound, the hospital visits, the remains of the fight. Everything. It feels like it didn't happen.

Because when you got back to Nevermore, everything was back to how it was. The damage to the school was repaired, classes were steadily going back to being routine, and Wednesday hasn't looked in your mere direction once — she, being the epitome of healthy coping mechanisms and dealing with feelings, avoids you like the plague.

You asked Enid to tell Wednesday that your door was open if she ever wished to talk.

Several days have gone by already and she hasn't taken you up on your offer.

You walk out of the cafeteria with a heavy heart and twirling an apple in your hand. You miss her. You hate how your days still feel hollow without Wednesday's presence on them, it's weird because she's not the type of person who usually makes her presence known; but you miss the weight of her shoulder resting against yours, the familiar comfortable silence you'd share when only enjoying each other's existence while reading.

It's a grey day outside. You see her before you see anything else when you walk into the quad. She has her back to you, black braids haphazardly done falling over her shoulders as she sits with Enid on one of the tables.

The werewolf notices you and waves you over, an encouraging smile on her lips. You give her a look that shows your uncertainty, but she insists.

You take a deep breath and follow the stone path that leads to her table. There's a limp on your steps still, telltales of the fight; sometimes you feel the eyes of your peers lingering on you. You wonder what they're thinking about, what they see when they look at you. A brave hero or a stupid kid?

What do they see when they look at her? A lonely, unfortunate soul or the savior of the school?

You sit down beside Enid, consequently in front of Wednesday, your hands resting in your lap as your knee goes up and down anxiously.

"Hey, how are you feeling?" Enid greets you happily, as if there isn't a tension thick enough to cut through in the air.

The question almost goes over your head. You're focusing on the Addams girl in front of you, on the way her knuckles suddenly go white as she grips the lunch tray like her life depends on it.

"I'm alright," you answer, eyes fixed on Wednesday — she holds you in a trance.

"I've been meaning to ask if you have the notes from our last class?" Enid continues, in a kind effort to make things less complicated.

"I uh-" you start, but cut yourself off when Wednesday hastily gets up from her seat, not sparing you a glance as she turns around and walks away.

You watch her retreating figure, the ends of her skirt bouncing with her steps. With a groan, you begrudgingly take a bite from your apple, "there's no figuring her out, I'm done," you mumble over your mouthful.

Though you're not sure if you truly mean it.

"Don't say that," Enid pouts, keeping her eyes on Wednesday until she disappears through the doors that lead inside the school.

"She made it explicitly clear she wants nothing to do with me, Enid," you shrug, a bittersweet smile tugging at your lips, "I think it's my fault anyway, so… I won't bother her anymore."

Enid turns, straddling the bench she's sitting on so she can fully face you; "what do you mean?"

You breathe in deeply, feeling the familiar flutter in your stomach just thinking about it. "A few weeks before all that shit happened, we shared a- a moment."

Enid instantly smiles, her eyes twinkling with excitement, "you kissed?"

You chuckle timidly, smiling along with the memory, "yeah," but your gaze dropped to your hands right after. "I think it was a mistake."

"I doubt it," Enid tells you confidently then, as if she's in on a secret you're not.

You raise an eyebrow at her.

Enid glances between you and the door that Wednesday had disappeared into, tasting the words on her tongue before she spills them over for you. She breathes in, and relents; "after you passed out…" she gulps, dreadful memory still fresh, "right after you got shot, from the blood loss. Wednesday, she- I never saw her so desperate."

Only from the emotions swimming in Enid's eyes, you could tell she was being honest. You couldn't help the tightness in your chest upon imagining Wednesday going through that.

"It was almost as if she knew you wouldn't make it, that you wouldn't survive," Enid keeps going, "or at least that's what she believed in."

Clarity shoots through you like a bullet as your eyes widened with the words. Ironic much, but that was the feeling.

Because there was a possibility, that Wednesday saw your misfortune before it even happened. Right when you kissed her, no less.

And if that was the case, you couldn't imagine the torment she's been under ever since.

—

The night is calm, you can see clouds shaping the moon as you walk the path outside that leads to Ophelia Hall. It's a little late, just past curfew but you prefer it that way — fewer people around, the hallways will be empty.

It's a struggle for you to walk up the stairs, you have to stop once to catch your breath and allow the nagging pain that shoots up your leg to subside. Details. Tonight feels important, because you're going to see her; you'll make sure of it, even if she insists otherwise.

You stop in front of the dark wooden door. If you strain your ears, you can hear the faint noise of her typewriter. Enid isn't there, you know she's at Yoko's room tonight — her idea, not yours. Privacy is important, she told you, right after all but commanding you to do what you're doing.

With a deep breath in and feeling more nervous than you thought you would, you raise your fist, and knock.

The typing noise stops, you hear her chair scratching the floor. You couldn't breathe even if you tried.

The door pulls open and your heart melts a little at the sight; Wednesday stands in front of you with a hoodie and sweatpants on, and her hair free of braids, clearly not expecting anyone to show up at this hour.

You're snapped out of your trance when you register the door closing again. You quickly hold it open with your hand; "hear me out, please."

"No," Wednesday huffs, "I told you to stay away."

"Yeah, and not much else," you push through, squeezing your way inside her room and closing the door behind you. Wednesday takes a big step back as if you'd burn her. It hurts. "Could've given me a reason."

With a deep breath in, Wednesday sets her jaw tight, "I don't owe you anything."

You avoid her eyes then, "maybe not, but I thought we had-"

"We didn't," Wednesday tells you, the shake of her voice makes you look up, and you think you see her eyes glistening, "we don't."

You nod slowly, and despite the bleeding of your heart, you speak softly; "did you see it?" You chew on the inside of your cheek, fumbling with your hands so they don't tremble, "that night, you had a vision didn't you? About what happened to me?"

There's a sudden stillness to the room that feels awfully familiar to Wednesday. She hates the way she can't seem to control her breathing pattern, she hates that the image of you in front of her is becoming blurry.

"Is that why you've been avoiding me? Because I got hurt?"

Your words urge Wednesday's mind to travel back to that night. She closes her eyes tightly, causing a tear to roll down her cheek and part of her wants to kick you out of the room for making that happen.

"You're a liability," she tells you the first thing her mind conjures up.

You chuckle humourlessly, "ouch, considering I saved your life that's-"

"Exactly the problem." Wednesday interrupts urgently, "are you stupid? If you insist on staying close to me you'll only hurt yourself." Her voice breaks at the end of the sentence, as if it caused her physical pain to speak.

You've never heard her this vulnerable, this scared. Your heart bleeds but for a different reason; for the affection you hold for her, for not being able to protect her from what happened. You take a step further towards her and breathe a sigh of relief when she doesn't take one away from you. "And what if staying away hurts me just as much? What then?"

It's quiet. Wednesday doesn't make a single sound. All you see are her cheeks slowly being stained with tear tracks as they roll all the way down to her chin and drip to the floor, her eyebrows scrunching in hurt. But she's so quiet.

You take one more step. "Tell me why."

A beat of silence, and then; "you made me… care about you and then you go and almost die." Wednesday chokes out angrily.

You smile sadly, finally hearing the words you've been chasing; though you'd prefer them in better circumstances, "caring about people can be… scary."

You don't think she registered that you were so close. Wednesday flinches when your hand touches hers, it's a ghost of a touch, barely there, yet it feels almost like an embrace.

"But I promise you, I'm not going anywhere," you say quietly, tears pooling at the bottom lid of your eyes as you carefully hold her hand properly.

Wednesday is frozen in place, it feels like someone reached past her ribs and is squeezing the organ that pumps her blood. She hates that she must look like a mess, yet this is the first time in weeks that she feels she can actually breathe. Part of her has been stuck on that night — hands stained with your blood as the paramedics take you away from her — until now.

Her fingers tentatively close around yours, her lips part and she struggles a little to get the words out, "it's not a promise you can keep."

"I can try," you whisper. You see it clearly in her eyes; the guilt she's been carrying. "What happened that night, it wasn't your fault, you have to know that, Wednesday."

"It was because of me," she reasons just as quietly, "and almost took you from me."

Goosebumps raise on your skin at her words. Your thumb gently traces her hand. It's private, it's delicate, it's a moment that belongs to you two only. "It'll take more than a bullet for you to get rid of me," you tease with a tearful grin.

Slowly, you bring her hand up so it rests over your chest; her palm flush with your skin as your heart beats rhythmically right underneath it. "I'm right here," you breathe.

It's all it takes for her to, finally, surrender. Wednesday stumbles forward, and you're there to catch her. Her head rests on your shoulder and her hands clutch at the fabric of your shirt to the point of ripping. You encircle your own arms around her waist, pressing her tightly to you.

Wednesday is still mostly quiet, the only thing you can hear if you focus hard enough is the occasional hitch of her breath. But you feel the way her tears soak your shirt, the way her body trembles as she gives her all to contain her sobs.

"There was… so much blood," is all she tells you, words muffled against your skin.

"I know," you slide one of your hands up to her head, entangling your fingers through her hair, "I'm so sorry it had to be you." You plant several kisses on her temple and on her hair, each one is a different promise.

I'm here.

I won't leave.

My blood will never be in your hands again.

You think she understands, because you feel her own lips brushing the skin of your shoulder; cold, damp with tears. Tender.

I love you.

⋆* ☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ

Thank you for reading this little story. Feedback and reblogs are literally what keep me motivated to continue posting here, so I'd appreciate it if you could take some time to reblog and comment if you want. <3

Wednesday’s taglist: @milkiane @bookfrog242 @heelaechan @imagine-reblog @sakurarukas @bluetreecloud20 @the-night-owl-blr @imlike-so-gaydude @user284747 @dreifhraniquo29 @emeraldevan @simp4nat @boobabietch @impossibleliv1031 @deadpool-in-a-snood @rainbow-love4ever @maria-403 @pompompuri @halleest @wandaromanova @marveloussimp @rainbow-hedgehog @left-and-right-up-and-down @get-the-fuck-outta-here @awolfcsworld @elduster @alexkolax @georgi-salva @imdumbhi @youralphawolf72 @reginassweetheart @justyourwritter69 @yangsroboarmm @8e-h-e8 @irish-piece-of-trash @femalehomosexual666 @wol-fica @wednesdays-woes @vorsdany

#wednesday addams x reader #wednesday addams imagine #wednesday addams x fem!reader #wednesday addams #wednesday #wednesday addams x you #wednesdayedit #imagine #fanfic #fluff #angst #wednesday addams fanfic #jenna ortega #wednesday x reader #my story

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crookedkryptonitebeliever · 11 months ago

Text

Blanche (Yandere Oc)

tw: depiction of abuse, stalking, heavy gore, violence, captivity, torture, human excrement, like really gross stuff, lots of words 4.5k

"Oh, why, hello my darling dove." You approached the man with the kindest, deep blue eyes you have ever seen. He sets his notebook and pen down on the table nearby. He stood up from his garden chair and opened his arms wide as he smiled, his sweet, downturned eyes closing into crescents. The corner of his eyes and mouth wrinkled in genuine happiness upon seeing you.

You hugged him, allowing his gorgeous, tight curls to brush against your arms. You wonder how he could maintain such Rapunzel-esque hair that reaches the back of his knees, especially when it's deceptively short. You remember unraveling one of his curls, to find out that it's twice as long than it originally presented itself as. If it was straightened, it would be pooling around his feet like a massive flood.

"How are you, my sweet? Did you have a wonderful day?" He asked, his voice honeyed and at a higher pitch than how he usually talks to others. His long, natural nails gently raked through your hair, while you played with his pitch-black but streaked with the lightest of grey strands.

You told him that you were thirsty, and you asked if he had anything for you to drink.

"Of course, my beloved flower. Come, let me lead you to my kitchen." You removed yourself from him as he wrapped his fingers around your hand. The man picked his cane up that was resting on the side of his chair. He then hummed a happy tune to himself as he leisurely walked away from his resting spot in the garden, bringing you along with him.

You peered up at the tall, loving man. You always thought that he had a peculiar sense of fashion, especially in this modern day. He looks like someone straight out of the romantic era, around the 1800s. The man, who you know as Blanche, would never be seen without his dark brown waistcoat, a tailcoat of a similar color, white frilly cravat, and long beige trousers. Likewise, he brings his antique, wooden cane wherever he goes.

You don't think you have ever seen him wear anything else other than his polished leather shoes and black garden boots. You certainly never seen slippers around his cottage home.

"Here you go, my darling." He handed you a cup of fresh juice. "I just squeezed them this morning. I can only hope to have my oranges as sweet as you, but I believe it should at least taste decent." Blanche caressed the side of your face as you drank, kissing the top of your head.

Once you're done, you grin and thank him earnestly. He simply nuzzled his charming Greek nose against yours. "You're very welcome, my dear dove."

You like how calm he is, it's evident in the way he speaks; he speaks slowly and softly as if there wasn't a single rush in the world, perhaps sometimes it's frustrating that it takes him an eternity to finish a sentence, but living in a reality where the fast and the furious is greatly rewarded, Blanche is a nice escape for you. Especially when you're exhausted and anxious.

His movements too, remind you of a carefree snail. He takes his time doing anything ever. You watched him pour himself some juice for himself in the same cup, you would have done it in half the time he took to do so.

"My light, are you hungry?" He asked before taking a sip of juice. You said yes, you're a bit famished after making that long trek into the forest to find his home, you just came right after your classes too. "That's wonderful. I just made a blueberry pie today." He walked to the kitchen window, where you saw a delicious, golden brown pie slowly cooling. Blanche picked it up and set it down on the chipped, dining table.

"How was school, my dear?" Asked Blanche as he opened his drawers and cupboards agonizingly slowly to find the appropriate cutlery for you and him.

You reminded him that you're studying in university, He seemed to ignore that. So you continued, telling him that it was exhausting and boring, you wished that your lecturers would be a bit more entertaining in teaching the materials.

"That's quite a shame." He cut a slice and placed it on a ceramic saucer with painted floral patterns on it. Blanche gently sets it in front of you, putting a small dessert fork on the same plate.

You then went on to tell him the good news: the creep who has been trying to get into your pants for the past few days must have given up because you didn't see him around anymore.

"That's nice, dear." He smiled, gathering a couple of serviettes from a drawer nearby and setting it on the table.

You dug in as always, the man smiled at you, feeling his heart swell in glee as you enjoyed his baking.

He gave himself a slice too and sat in front of you. Then, you asked him about his day.

"Oh, the usual. Deary and dull before you come along and fill it with such vibrant colors. I'm so happy that you're visiting me today, I was lonely." He replied, cutting the slice into small pieces first.

The way you met Blanche was somewhat bizarre, but you're glad that you met him. he's the comfort that you need in this world. You would always go to him when things get tough, he will tell you that everything is going to be okay; and you would only believe him, no one else.

You met him online, there was this website where people from all walks of life visit to make friends. You initially used it to date or do one-night stands to try and fill the void in your life, but you end up finding sweet, old Blanche. You find it humorous and sad that his own profile described him as a very lonely and eccentric middle-aged man, who is looking for someone to love. He didn't specify what type of love he is seeking, but he expressed his displeasure and sadness towards previous online 'friends' of his taking advantage of his kindness and desperation to have a companion- stealing his money, robbing his house and even beating him up numerous times because he was perceived as this weak, old man.

You felt your heartstrings being tugged at as you read the words, he was really begging whoever was making those numerous fake accounts to stop harassing him. Apparently, some younger folks thought it was funny to cyber bully him, reveal private information online, send him death threats, and send him disgusting, gut-wrenching hate messages just because he wasn't as well versed in the internet as the others.

Luckily, one day, they just stopped. Ceasing all torment towards the kind man. No one knew what happened, but from that day on, no one tried to talk to him anymore. It's all radio silence.

Until you came along and decided to give it a try. It takes him a good amount of time to type a string of text, but it's always meaningful, poetic, and beautiful. He sends paragraphs as if he's writing a letter to be sent through a carrier pigeon.

The first time you met Blanche, you were filled to the brim with anxiety. Shaking and gnawing on your fingers as you take the bus to the cafe you and him were supposed to meet. This isn't someone who's the same age as you, he is much older and you feel... Weird. There isn't anything wrong with seeking friendships with him because you're an adult, you know what you're doing.

But it's so... Different. You don't know what to expect.

You definitely didn't expect the instant warmth that brought your panic and anxiousness to an all time low. Something about his vibes, his looks and the way he carried himself was so soothing. He didn't have to say anything, all he did was look your way and gave you such a genial wave along with a toothy smile.

The afternoon went swimmingly, it wasn't awkward at all; it was as if you were talking with a close, guardian-like family member. You were comfortable, maybe a bit too comfortable because you realized you overshared after you went back home. You really didn't have to tell him about your stomach problems you're suffering at the moment in such detail.

The next time you met up with Blanche, he gave you a wooden box filled with teabags of his homegrown herbs. He claimed it will help cure your condition as long as you drink it.

You didn't really believe him, thinking he's just some old fart who practices pseudoscience and most likely doesn't agree with the use of vaccines. But you decided to brew some of his tea anyways, since he seems so excited to share you a part of his world.

To your surprise and embarrassment, it got rid of the symptoms. You're no longer bloated on most days and you feel great.

Now, you would just describe to him whatever is plaguing you; it could be insomnia, a common cold, or even your crippling mental health crises. Blanche would always have something growing on his land that would cure it.

That is where you learned that he lives in a cottage, in the middle of a forest. His garden is extensive, planting all sorts of trees, shrubs, shoots and flowers. He has the greenest thumb you have ever seen. You once gave him a pot of succulents which you thought were dead, due to your failure to water it at all. Blanche looked positively horrified at the condition of the poor plant in the beginning, but he assured you that it's okay, he can help it.

You were confused, you gave it to him because you thought he would use the clay pot. But instead, he returned it to you with its planty resident healthy and plump. You knew it was the same one because it looked exactly like how you first bought it.

Blanche gave you a handwritten card of instructions on how to take care of your new, leafy friend. You tried your best to follow it, but ultimately, you gave it back to him. It now rests on the windowsill beside his bed.

Your friendship with him grew as months went by. He would have you in his cottage, you would have him in your shared dorm. To which, he prefers not to step foot into the biohazardous student kitchen. That's why, you're usually visiting him, instead the other way round.

Blanche is lovely to have in your life. Whenever you visit him, you will always leave with a week's worth of groceries; mostly vegetables and fruits that happily grew on his plot of soil. But also, there would be containers upon containers of ready-to-eat meals he cooked prior to your visit.

You became healthier and your grades went up, thanks to the convenience of his delicious cooking. Although they're mostly vegetarian since he's almost solely using produce from his back yard, it's still so tasty even the average carnivore would scarf it down without hesitance.

You're also convinced whatever he adds into his meals are making you smarter. You get to focus on your classes better and you could retain much more information than before. He would excitedly tell you all about the strange and whimsical spices he added into your dish, describing what chemical compounds might be the culprit in helping you form more brain cells.

Aside from planting, he would crochet, knit or sew. And he would churn out items fast. It was so jarring to see his hands move like the insides of a racecar motor when you could fit five eye blinks in one of his own. He was the person who crocheted your laptop bag, your favourite winter and summer top, knitted your beanie, your comfiest pair of socks and your snow gloves.

Whenever there is a rip or tear in your clothes, even if the shoulder straps of your bag fell off, you could simply bring it over to his cottage and he would return it good as new. Being friends with Blanche allowed you to save up a substantial amount of money, you would then use it to buy him a new smartphone. It may not be the most luxurious, but it's definitely worlds away from the yellowed brick phone with a numerical pad he owns.

You think it is time for him to transition into the modern world, and you care for him enough to bust a hole in your already very empty university student wallet to help him. The next thing on your agenda was to buy him a new computer or laptop because he is using one that is ridiculously thick and cuboid; with a terrible screen resolution. It took him half an hour just to access the internet.

He was over the moon upon gifting it to him. To the point of tears, he was indescribably happy. You were worried as to why he was on his knees, hugging you close to him as he sobbed loudly on your shoulder. Initially, you thought you triggered something traumatic or did something to offend him, but Blanche assured you that wasn't the case.

Only after he calmed himself down, prepared a teapot of his homemade tea blend for the two of you, did he explain:

You are his one true friend, who consistently showed up for Blanche, cared for him, showed interest in his character, never hit him, and did not try to swindle money off him. It was surprising and melancholic, to say the least, that this was the only gift he ever received out of love and kindness; without the other party wanting anything in return. It was so nice for once to have someone around who isn't only after his wealth or free labor.

You didn't get how the world could be so cruel to such a kind spirit. It made you angry how he was badly mistreated in the past, but he simply smiled and told you that everyone must move on. Blanche has you, and that is all that matters to him.

You still weren't satisfied. You asked if he had gone to the police, told their parents, told their workplace- anything! They can't just get away without any repercussions, it makes your blood boil and heartache for your friend.

Blanche merely smiled, albeit ominously. He told you not to fret over them, as they eventually "Got what they deserved." He didn't elaborate on that further, you simply assumed that he said what he said due to his overly forgiving nature and not wanting you to worry about his torment.

It wasn't easy teaching him how to use the smartphone, though. Every little thing, he would call you using his rotary phone on how to use it; "Hello, darling. This is Blanche speaking, Could you please come over sometime this afternoon to guide me through the steps on how to surf the interweb on this lovely gadget you gifted me? I seem to have forgotten how to do so."

You think he's just using that as an excuse to hang out with you. Because there is no way he would forget how to tap on a couple of things after the 16th time.

You did ask him about his family. Blanche would tilt his head to the side and give you a saddened smile. Before telling you about how his parents weren't good people, he ran away from home and didn't know the fate of his other siblings. Because of his background and peculiar personality, he found it hard to create lasting bonds as they would always wound up abandoning him or abusing him. He said that he must be excreting some sort of pheromone that attracts people like these.

But he held no ill will towards them, as they "got what they deserved". You brushed that off again as Blanche being too nice to the cruel world.

You're concerned, though. It really seems like you're his only ally. He is definitely clingier now that the friendship has deepened. You're worried that you're going to have to say "no" to some of his requests to have your presence here as he grows more and more unbearable, it's definitely going to break his heart.

"My rose?"

You were snapped out of your thoughts upon feeling Blanche's fingers gently pushing your hair back. You're now back to the present, where you and he are comfortable with light skin-ship, you also liked how he would call you all these pet names. It made you feel so fluttery inside.

"Are you alright, dear? You seem to be distracted with something." He cupped your cheeks and inspected your face further. His eyebrows were knitted in concern.

You said that you were fine, just thinking about your daily obligations and how you should get going soon.

He frowned. "Must you go?" He whispered. "I'm so lonely out here. Please stay for a while longer."

You can't because you have a work shift starting soon. Plus, you have to complete that assignment that you're putting off because you were too busy accompanying Blanche in his isolated Cottage with the world's worst internet connection.

He sighed, looking miserable. "Please wait for a few minutes, I have something for you." Blanche stood up and made his way upstairs.

You watch him ascend the stairs with one hand on the handrails, and the other on his cane. You think that this might be an extremely dangerous lifestyle for a man like him to live, what if he trips and falls? He wouldn't be able to call for help, especially when phone reception out here is atrocious.

You continued eating your slice of blueberry pie, even taking another slice from the dish for yourself. You knew Blanche wouldn't mind, and you knew that he was going to make you bring the entire thing home anyway.

He came back down a few minutes later, holding a brown envelope. Immediately, you went on to reject it. You already knew what was in there and you didn't feel comfortable accepting it.

"Please, I insist, my love." He tried slipping it into your bag, but you wrestled it away from your belongings. You said that you have no use for it, you can make your own money.

For the past few weeks, he has been giving you regular allowances. It isn't anything to scoff at either, it's always one grand per envelope. Now you can see why there were so many people who tried to siphon as much funds out of Blanche as possible.

"I have no doubt in my heart that you are capable, but I... I'd like to buy your time, please." He clasped his hands around yours, bringing your fingers to his soft lips. "I want to spend more time with you, I want you to stay longer. Will you do that for me, my love?"

You paused, it was hard to say no to those big, pleading eyes of his. But you have to, even if you don't necessarily have to work with Blanche's financial help, you still need to put in effort in your studies to not fail.

So with a heavy chest, you said no. You promised that you would visit him again very soon, you just need to get your assignments out of the way and you will be golden.

His shoulders sagged in defeat as he softly whimpered under his breath.

"Alright." He muttered, before reviving the loving smile on his lips.

He opened his arms, to which you gladly threw yourself in. He laughed, picking you up and pressing kisses against your cheek. Blanche tenderly twirled you around, letting your legs dangle in the air as you too giggled. You rubbed your face against his frilly cravat, also enjoying the feeling of his lips on the crown of your head.

Blanche is now alone in his garden. His lips were pressed in a thin straight line. You left a few minutes ago with his personal cart filled with his fresh produce for the week. And also the remaining blueberry pie that is stashed away in a container for convenience. He hopes that the eggs he gave you are enough to last until your next visit, his chickens are producing a bit less than usual.

He picked up his pen and notebook he left on the garden table earlier. Blanche then tucked the cane under his arm before marching away without wasting any time. Without you witnessing, Blanche actually moves scarily quick, his graceful agility allows him to traverse the span of his garden speedily without damaging any of his crops.

Blanche walked deeper and deeper into the foilage until the sunlight could barely be seen through the dense vegetation.

Eventually, he reached a dilapidated wooden shed. Blanche stood right in front of the door with a heavy lock and took out his golden stopwatch from his breast pocket. The male noted the time before writing it down in his notebook.

He kept them away, Blanche then fished out a key, along with a hairband from another pocket in his trousers. His lower eyelid twitched as he tied his voluptuous hair into a large, very messy bun. But at least it's not going to interfere too much with what he's about to do.

He unlocked the door and pushed it open using his shoulder, it was hard to move it as the hinges had rusted to a considerable degree. Blanche dusted his sleeve off before taking out his notebook again, noting that he had to replace its parts soon.

Finally, he kept everything back in his pockets. Blanche tightened his fists in anger as pathetic muffled screaming and wailing reached his ears.

"Oh, be quiet, will you?" He snarked, a complete 180° from the Blanche that you're used to. Luckily, you're not here to see it.

He turned around to see your harasser. Completely naked and covered in bloody, infected lacerations. His face and body were blue from bruises and other injuries. He was gagged using his own clothes that were cut up by Blanche. His victim couldn't escape if he wanted to, as he was tightly bound by metal chains that were cutting circulation around his wrists and ankles.

There was rot, maggots, blood, and excretory products all around him as the bodies of Blanche's ex-friends decomposed around the creep. He was squirming in his own puddle of urine and vomit, as Blanche has kept him there since yesterday, right after you went home from your last class.

He is used to the smell of death. He worked with natural fertilizers, after all.

Blanche took long strides towards his trembling form, which only shook even more the closer he got.

He lets out a shout when Blanche strikes him using the end of his cane, the force is so strong that it instantly breaks the skin on his head, making him bleed profusely.

Blanche's eyelids twitched even more, he suddenly discarded his cane before pulling out two brass knuckles from his left pant pocket. He hastily puts them on before throwing powerful punches against his current, human punching bag.

Cracks, screams, and crunches resonated throughout the small space as Blanche let out all his frustrations on him. All his hatred towards the world, his anguish, and misery of not being around you, all of it- your harasser has to bear. Just because he chose the wrong person to mess with.

Blood, spit, and other fluids splattered on his once pristine clothing, dying his cravat red.

"Fucking disgrace." He mumbled as he managed to beat the man to a pulp, striking him hard and long enough to expose the broken bones to the stagnant air. Blanche continued scraping the flesh off his bone using the brass, there is an easier way to extract his bones, but he would very much rather use this method to relieve him of his rage. And, this delivers the maximum amount of pain and fear into your offender, a justified punishment for him, for disturbing Blanche's precious flower's peace.

Sweat beads down Blanche's forehead as he went on whaling on the unconscious, deformed mass that was starting to lose heat. Ichor pooled around his shoes, mixing with the other foul fluids around him.

Once he has managed to liquefy his flesh from his repeated, rapid pummeling, Blanche dug his bare fingers into the gory heap to extract the bones, gathering them in his arms and not caring that he has dirtied himself greatly.

He grunted as he ripped the bones from its weakened ligaments, spraying scarlet all over the already viscera-covered walls.

Blanche panted as he stood up straight, one arm holding his yield, the other hand taking out his once clean pocketwatch, now he's soiling it with bloodied fingerprints.

Five hours. Five whole hours of brutalization to pacify Blanche from his sorrow of watching you cut your visit short, due to some silly little assignments. He shook his head, he could have used all that time doing something else, but he needed to take care of this bastard anyway.

Now that he's not as upset, he took his time documenting whatever he did in his notebook which is equally covered in biohazardous grime.

He then turned around, and picked up his cane, not bothering to face the mutilated, unrecognizable mass of meat behind him one last time. Blanche was already thinking about what to do next as he locked the shed up, the previous bloodied fingerprints on the pad were washed away by the rain a few days prior.

He lets his mind wander to you, thinking about what you're doing right now. Blanche knows there is zero chance of you calling or contacting him through the phone because he knows that you're now at this stupid house party instead of working on your assignment like you told him.

Blanche isn't as tech-illiterate as you think. He is also not that gullible, he knows more than you believe or could ever imagine.

He wishes that you would be a bit more truthful towards him. But as of now, he's content with the amount and quality of bones he managed to harvest.

He made the long walk back to his cottage in the dark, his eyes already adapted to the darkness from decades of 'gardening' at night.

Blanche was mentally calculating the amount of time and heat needed to dehydrate the bones, to make them into bonemeal for his chickens. He suspected that they weren't producing as many eggs as usual because their calcium count was low, so the shell wouldn't be developing properly.

But thoughts of you kept interrupting his head. Blanche would smile, looking forward to your next visit. He would definitely have enough eggs for you by then.

#yandere #yandere x reader #yandere oc #yandere male #yandere concept #tw yandere #yandere x you #yandere oc x reader #male yandere oc x reader #oc Blanche #ngl idk if i should make it platonic or romantic #but i guess this old man is my first platonic yandere #well maybe its in the same vein of yandere older brother #where the love is pretty dubious??#i too would like to sex the old man

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xstarsdiary · 11 months ago

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SWEET GIRL ❤︎︎

𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗒 - 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖻𝖾𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖱𝖣𝖠 𝖺𝗅𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋 𝗌𝗂𝖻𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽 𝗌𝗉𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋, 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝖿𝖺𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝖾𝗇��𝗆𝗒- 𝗒𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗄𝗂𝖽𝗇𝖺𝗉𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝗁𝗂𝗆𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝖺 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 ’𝗋𝖾𝗅𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗁𝗂𝗉’. 𝗂𝖿 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖼𝗈𝗎𝗅𝖽 𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗇 𝖼𝖺𝗅𝗅 𝗂𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍．

𝜗𝜚 miles quaritch x female sully reader (22)

warnings - 𝗺𝗶𝗻𝗼𝗿𝘀 𝗱𝗻𝗶!! choking, degradation, hair pulling, slight kuru play, degradation, praise, begging, orgasm denial, unwanted creampie, I didn’t know how else to end it 😭

word count - 2.2k 𝑎𝑣𝑎𝑡𝑎𝑟 𝑚𝑎𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑙𝑖𝑠𝑡．

vocabulary - vrrtep: demon/s, uniltìrantokx: dreamwalker/s, tawtute: human, skxawng: moron / idiot, thanator: (palulukan) creature on pandora.

tagging - @neteyamsoare ❤︎︎ （ 𝗍𝖺𝗀𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗆 𝗂𝗌 𝗈𝗇 𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗇𝖾𝖽 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍! ）

Getting kidnapped by Colonel Miles Quaritch - the man who was presumed dead, murdered by your mother herself - was one thing. But the things the two of you did behind closed doors was another thing. Another very, very bad thing.

The RDA had taken you after holding you and your younger siblings hostage, spider as well. You had been moved from room to room over the few weeks you stayed there. Or maybe it was months? You had no idea.

Just the other week you had been moved to a different room, a much smaller room. And the very first thing you noticed was that all the walls were a clean white colour, not a single wall held your reflection in it like the large one in your past room.

The vrrteps must’ve thought you were stupid, you thought. You always knew that they were watching you from the other side of the reflective wall as well as the small contraption in the corner of your old cell, which would have a small dot that flashed red whenever they were watching you.

Not only did they watch you. The vrrteps in lab coats would often strut into your room, running all kinds of tests as at least a few uniltìrantokx stood around, their big guns firmly held in their grasp. You couldn’t do anything but sit or lay there helplessly, occasionally hissing to show your displeasure as your hands stayed bound in orange cuffs.

Other than that, you were pretty much left alone. Sometimes you wondered how spider, the human boy who often hung out with your younger siblings was. He had been taken by the RDA too, but you still haven’t seen him since the first day, when you watched with worried eyes as the sky people used their awful machines against him.

It was a horror sight to see a kid be tortured like that, to be in that much pain just because a woman in military clothing wanted answers from him. You were grateful for whoever stopped the machine before your eyes landed on the culprit, the person just happening to be Quaritch.

That was the first time you got a good look at the man. You studied him from your place on a bench in the lab, where the scientists poked and prodded at you with their sharp needles and gloved hands.

His muscles flexed as he tensed up, quietly speaking to the tawtute woman who looked up at him with a frustrated expression. Only the most unholy thoughts filled your mind as you watched his outstretched arm flex, his biceps hardening and fingers slightly twitching.

Your mouth went dry and you internally scolded yourself as you remembered who this man was, disgusted at yourself for even allowing those thoughts- those images to come to mind.

You didn’t know what came over you the first night he came to your cell, predatory eyes scanning over your slim figure as his hands tightly held onto his vest. Hell- he didn’t even know what he was doing.

He felt like he had already failed his mission the second he realized that he- no, his body was attracted to you. Your figure was slim and lean with just the right amount of muscle and the perfect amount of fat in all the right places.

He couldn’t help it. I mean, he gets bought back in a whole new much younger body, of course his hormones are everywhere. He felt like a horny teenager all over again.

He knew it was so wrong being in your room for this reason. You’re his targets oldest kid for fucks sake. But the second he had you on your knees, the side of your face pushed into the soft mattress beneath you and your hands held tightly behind your back while one of his it all felt so right.

You were the perfect stress relief. The perfect distraction. He guessed that's why he would find himself walking towards your cell almost every night, his cock throbbing painfully hard inside of his pants.

The events from earlier today had him especially stressed. Him and his team had gone out into the forest, this time without Spider. Big Mistake. They had almost gotten lost a countless amount of times and had a bad run in with a Thanator.

One of his soldiers was injured, not too severely but enough to be put in the hospital wing for a decent amount of time, definitely putting him at least a couple days behind on his mission.

However, all of that stress seemingly disappeared as soon as he rubbed his pink tip against your wet cunt before pushing inside of your tight hole, relishing in the way you suck him in so perfectly. You were always so good for him on nights like these, so obedient.

You didn't know why you would succumb to him every time. Maybe it was the fact that you were equally as horny, desperate for release. Or maybe it was the fact that you were slightly attracted to the man.

Whatever the reason was, you didn't really care. Especially when he’s pumping in and out of you this fast, his cock filling you up so perfectly that you’re starting to think it was made just for you.

Your heels dug into his shoulder blades as his hand found its placement on your knees, helping to hold our legs up. You didn't even know what to do with your own hands as they gripped the bed sheets above your head, your moans getting choked up in your throat with each rough thrust he gives you.

There was no denying that Miles was rough and relentless when endorsed in intercourse, well at least with you he was. You weren't complaining though, no. You secretly loved the way he would tug on your hair, the way he would switch up between praising and degrading you, a perfect mix of both.

His voice was always rough and demanding, authoritative would be the best way to describe it. And excitement filled your body every time he would speak, making your pussy clench harder around his thick cock. “Such a good girl, hm? Sweet girl.” He would murmur, one of his hands moving to wrap around your throat.

Your hands instinctively move to wrap around his wrist, but still not making any effort to tug his hand away as your nails now dig into his skin instead of the soft bedding beneath you.

“Fff-uck!” You curse, struggling to get any words or noises out as his hand wraps harder around your throat, almost restricting any air from entering as you lightly gasp. With your eyes almost rolling to the back of your head and every now and then fluttering closed you mewl, hips bucking upwards to match his merciless thrusts.

There's a low growl that emits from his throat, his hand unwrapping from your throat before he grabs your waist with both hands, lifting you up off his cock as you unhook your legs from over his shoulders.

You let out a pathetic whine at the feeling of being so empty, the pressure that had just started building up in your abdomen already lost. Miles lifts you upright as if you're some ragdoll. Some toy just for him to play with when he's bored. And maybe that's really just what you are to him, a dumb slutty toy.

Now straddling his lap as the both of you sit on your knees, you grind against him, your wet cunt gliding smoothly against his cock. Your hands wrap around his neck, dainty fingers running through his buzzed hair before finding the base of his queue and wrapping around it.

“So needy aren't you, doll? Always being such a little fuckin’ whore.” And with his harsh words he lifts you up by your hips, roughly slamming you back down on his cock.

You cry out, nails scratching and clawing at his back, surely leaving stinging red marks. The sudden penetration was painful, taking you by surprise as your body stiffened.

Miles let out a quiet hiss, one of his hands tightening its grip on your hip as the other grabs a fustful of your braids and roughly tugs. Tears cloud your vision as the stinging pain in your scalp replaces the throbbing pain in your pussy, your teeth biting down hard on your bottom lip.

Suppressing a moan, you bite down on your plump lip harder, eyes staring up at him. You didn't want to admit it but you didn't mind the pain, it was pleasurable even.

A guilty feeling brews in your stomach as you’re reminded of all the pain that this man has bought your family, your people. However, that feeling is forgotten almost as soon as his hips bucked upwards, cock burying impossibly deep inside of you before he lifts you up to pull out again, continuously slamming you down on him.

Your mind was numb. Silent. You couldn't think of anything except for the way his length slid in and out of you so deliciously, a wet clapping noise echoing around the room every time you bounced back down on his dick.

His grip on your hair loosened, allowing you to tilt your head back down and face him. Your mouth is hung wide open, breathy moans and whines escaping, worming their way out of your sore throat.

That familiar pressure in your lower stomach begins to build up, encouraging you to bounce harder, Miles’ hand still holding your plush hip as he guides you up and down. A series of moans leaves your mouth, followed by a few curses here and there.

Miles can tell you're getting close by the way your cunt is clenching around him. He lets out a groan of his own, watching your flushed face as he fucks you. “You close, girl?” He questions almost pridefully.

With another whine you shake your head, denying what's true as to save yourself from the humiliation that's soon to come.

He lets out a gruff chuckle, grip tightening on your hip. “Yeah you are. I know you are.” I can tell by the way your pretty pussy is gripping me even tighter. Miles thinks to himself, smirking slightly as his eyes drift down to where his cock is ruthlessly fucking you.

“Please- please just let me come!” You plead, speaking with a heavy accent in English in hopes that that will help convince him to let you have your release. Miles always liked when you spoke in his mother tongue.

“Please what?” His words are harsher than intended, sharp and demanding.

Sucking up your pride you answer. “Please sir.. I need to come!” You sucked in a breath of air, on the verge of snapping and finally feeling your blissful climax.

“Fuckin’ wait. You’re so fuckin’ impatient.” And as his hand tugs your hair once again and his cock begins to twitch inside of you, you can tell that he's close as well. Miles isn't one to give. You know that for a fact. He just takes and takes, not leaving anything else for others.

And that's exactly what he does to you. With a long strangled groan he stills inside of you, tip pushing against your cervix as he spills his hot load inside of you.

“Nooo-” You pathetically whine out, tears finally leaving your eyes and sliding down your cheeks as you lose your upcoming orgasm completely. Trying desperately to move off of his cock you choke out a sob, hair now freed from his grasp as both of his hands are now gripping your waist, sure to leave marks.

Eventually you give up, falling forwards to rest your head on his shoulder, getting over the fact that he just came inside of you. There's nothing you can do about it now other than pray to Eywa that his seed doesn't take.

“Fuckin’ shit-” Finally Miles lifts you up and pulls out of you, coming down from his high as you weakly sit on the bed infront of him with a pout. “Why didn’t you let me come?” Your eyes look up into his as your brows furrow in frustration.

Your stare follows him as he stands, watching as his back muscles flex before the red scratch marks on his back momentarily catch your attention. You can feel his come slowly ooze out of your hole as you continue to wait for his reply, still kneeling on the soft bed.

“Next time.” He nods, pulling his pants up and not even bothering to put his shirt back on as he holds it in his hand, hurriedly leaving your cell.

Your anger grows at that, brows furrowing even further as the crease between them deepens. He said that same exact thing last time, yet he still didn't let you come. What a skxawng. Getting up with trembling legs you grab your loincloth and beaded top, the same clothes you've been wearing for the time you've been here.

With a sigh you finish dressing yourself, fixing up your bedding before plopping down on your back, hands resting on the top of your head as you wait for the other uniltìrantokx to come and pleasure you in ways that Miles Quaritch never could.

#📝 － 𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗋 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾𝗌 ．#recom miles quaritch #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch smut #miles quaritch x reader #avatar smut #avatar the way of water #recom quaritch #recombinant #avatar twow #avatar #quaritch smut #smut

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the-fandom-is-now-my-life · 1 year ago

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Masterlist

"Masterlist? What is that?"

"it's mostly a record of the writings here, feel welcome to have a look and see if something catches your eye" she turns around and points to the the book detailing where every book or pages should

"last time I updated it was june 21, so it can get a bit behind but usually everything is in here"

"a magical land where people are able to handle elements as they please, a bit too fantastical for my liking but she seems to enjoy writing them"

Tokyo debunker

There is a separate section for this subject, best visit it for the list.

Genshin impact

There is a folder on the table and named with perfect cursive handwriting "Holy offsprings". It seems it's a collection of small works

A bouquet of feelings

Sometimes actions have unexpected consequences. Good thing Aether knows how to fix this one.

Ancient language au

A long forgotten tongue slips away from their lips to the ears of people who believe it's their god's language

Read my lips

"to suddenly be left in a world where I couldn't read anything... Such a torture"

Universal language

After alhaitham found your ability you were almost forced to work for the academia translating works, some misunderstandings arise

Great sage au

A foreign face settles as a country's sage and tries to help, even when it isn't all that easy

Prologue

As a former player the new great sage had a nice base of knowledge to stand on plus some new tools

Such a backstabber

His duty with sumeru has gotten him into a trail leading to you and believes you to be a danger. For some reason the proof he has reminds you of something… wait a minute.

Over tea

Luckily after cyno recognized them as not guilty they were allowed to return to their position and enjoy their new found love for tea. Seemingly the nation's calmness has lead to people allowing themselves to fantasize about their bosses’ love life

Everything feels so beautiful

"this one fits in the timeline but I'm not sure if even the writer knows how or when..."

Secret husband timeline

Be it because of secretiveness or nobody believing it was possible nobody found out about your marriage with the iudex until someone says it straight up. Oops

The first two are two different beginnings

How the iudex sleeps

"why did she choose for him to have a resemblance with otters? Even then it's a really sweet domestic piece"

Melusines say the darndest things

sometimes children can slip up and accidentally say more than desired. In this case the journalists are very happy about that.

Drabbles

Would they peel an orange for you?

"mhmm... I wonder why she chose oranges, I think she likes better pomegranate. Wouldn't it be more fitting 'would they open a pomegranate for you?' but I guess at the end it's the same intention"

Do they know if you wear silver or gold?

"I only ever wear this uniform, I'm not really sure how important that kind of stuff is"

Types of baby daddy

"my father has been a 'baby daddy' many times, including my and my sisters' conception and many of our half siblings. Despicable man. He even runs as fast as the thunders he throws so he is hard to catch"

Your ex in my body or me in their body

"seemingly this question is used to pick a fight with your lover, I'm not sure why would you, though"

Ideas

"some blurbs or unrefined concepts, maybe in the future they can become something more polished"

Npc sagau

"suddenly strangers and your loved ones start acting as mindless zombies and only certain people seem to wake up but you are unable to know when... It sounds stressful doesn't it?"

Living together (npc sagau)

Obey me

"it would make sense for them to live close by the only people you can speak with"

"It's a kind of undefined academic environment in hell? I heard from other visitors that highschool and university are difficult and sometimes unenjoyable but isn't this a bit too on the nose? Either way seemingly she could romance demons, angels and a... Regular human? I'm sure she did not... My goodness"

Night bringer saga

All this happen during night bringer but aren't particularly connected or in a particular timeline!

Love language: acts of service

After being temporarily transformed into a demon you find that there are some gaps in your knowledge of demon features care but Solomon is very happy to help

With the firstborn's ring I made you mine

A before bed chat with Solomon leads to you showing some concerns about wearing the ring of light so openly and he offers himself as a scapegoat

Love language, gift giving

He is old enough and famous enough that he can spend some money on superfluous gift and extra candies as long as you smile at him

The sorcerer's demonic firstborn

Nobody is exempt from Mother nature's cruel whims, not even the all powerful sorcerer that defied death. Some friends of yours help you with your dream

Twisted wonderland

"another fantasy setting that happens in a world where people can use Magic and a school? I'm seeing a pattern with her likings. Just tell me she wrote for a prince or a future king or- it's just a guy with white hair again? No just because he is sleepy doesn't make him different, writer..."

Forced fairytale

The tale of the sleeping beauty is one he holds dear, be it because it's related to his great grandmother or his dorm, malleus can't help but feel like silver and the prefect would be such a perfect modern retelling.

#masterlist #genshin impact #sagau #sagau x reader #alhaitham x reader #cyno x reader #grand sage au #ancient language au #drabbles #npc sagau #npc au #obey me #obey me shall we date #solomon x reader #obey me solomon #twisted wonderland silver #silver x reader #twst silver x reader

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chaosduckies · 1 year ago

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Restoration (Chapter 1)

Finally! Finished the first chapter! It’s also my first official g/t story. Enjoy!

Word count: 3,500

CW: Mentions of Death, Fear, and panic attacks (they don’t actually happen)

1- Nathan

Don’t you wish that sometimes you could reverse time? Whether you never wished to be born, or if you just did something really embarrassing. You want to know what I would do if I could reverse time? Make sure my parents did move away from our little home in the country sooner. We all had loved it. With no loud noises and no people to tell us that we were weird. Just me, my parents, and the most beautiful view of coniferous trees ever. And that was stripped away from us.

We had heard nothing but the dreadful screams and the cackling in the back of our minds. The only glimpse we had of out new home was the wicked smiles of our torturers. The only thing we were allowed to see were bodies being ripped in half. No longer the sight of the maple leaves turning orange during the fall, no longer the sight of a sunset. Nothing. Nothing but a red, bloody void.

Terrible right? How could I describe something you don’t even know? It’s not that hard. Just two words. Human trafficking. Where humans are taken away from our home and forced to make entertainment for beings with no hearts. They didn’t care what happened to anything that was below them in the food chain. That didn’t care how a “lesser” being felt. Because who would want to know about how a seven year old cried about seeing their own dad being ripped in half, huh? Who cared about how many times you’ve broken someone else’s bones? Who cared how much you traumatized a kid who used to have their whole life ahead of them?

That was how I lived more than half of my life. Fearing everything that could and would hurt me. Scared of what would happen the very next day. Scared of the unknown truth that was my life. Even if my mom had kept reassuring me that everything would be okay. Even when my dad was long out of our lives, but never forgotten. Even when she was on the brink of death herself…

Then, there was a glimmer of hope. And all I remembered were gun shots and my mom screaming and dragging me underneath something. Hidden away from the people that were trying to help us. After my mom had finally realized that those people were there to help, she asked me to go out and get them to come help her. I remembered seeing her bloody leg. I remember her tying a piece of string around to stop it from bleeding anymore. And I remember being scared to go. What was I supposed to do? I was just subdued to years and years of torture and all of a sudden I’m supposed to trust the same people that hurt us?

The only reason I gathered up enough courage was because my mother had practically begged me and passed out afterward. I couldn’t leave her there to die like dad. And so what I thought would be our imminent doom yet again, was our hope for surviving. The people here helped get my mom to get better, and fixed up my multiple broken bones and wounds. They sent me to a program that taught basic skills before I could be placed into an actual school. Everything was going great. I had my life ahead of me. Then, the papers forcing my mom and I to transfer to a co-ed city arrived.

Our little utopia was crumbling to the ground. Living in the same city as giants? Hah. No. I’d rather die than be around those monsters again. They’d just hurt us. And for some odd reason, my mom was smiling. Genuinely smiling even after reading the notice. She never looked mad, upset, or even the slightest bit scared. She smiled and cheered that we could have a normal life again. That I could have the childhood I never had.

I admit, I believed this could be a good change as well. I could be around other people my age. Maybe make friends? And so began this great journey of trying to act like nothing had happened. Like my mom and I weren’t just subdued to torture for the last 8 years. No one would know, and no one would care.

Today stated off as any normal day. I got dressed, brushed my teeth, ate breakfast. Nothing out of the ordinary. Just the first day I was cleared to go to an actual school. After moving away from the hospital and coming over to the co-ed city, I kind of thought this was a good idea. I mean, who’s to say that it’ll tun out like it did in the country? For all I know I won’t even have to go to school with giants. I could just go to an all human school or something. That’s what I was hoping for on the way here. But, now that my mom and I have been here for nearly a month, I’ve learned that wasn’t the case.

I was going to school with humans and giants. Whether I liked it or not.

My mom tried to reassure me, saying that there were more rules set up in a city rather than in the country. That wasn’t what I was worried about though. I was more worried about what would happen if I was alone. This was a completely new place that I’ve never been to. Who know’s what could happen?

The bus came to pick me up and some other younger kids who were laughing at something on their phones. The atmosphere had completely changed. It was thick, and heavy. Maybe it was because it was early in the morning? Or maybe it was because everyone dreaded the day? I mean it was Monday after all. Whatever was making them look so drained and tired was obviously not good. Making my nerves rise like crazy.

I sat down near the front of the bus, trying to avoid the other kids my age. There was just something about them that had me on edge. It’s not like I didn’t want to to make friends, it’s just that I had to be careful who I place my trust in. Especially when I was going to a school made for people much, much bigger than me.

It was hard to keep my mind off of the fact that I would be walking along with giants again, but unless I wanted to undergo a panic attack on my first day, it was best to just ignore everyone and everything. At least until I could work up the courage to walk without my legs losing balance or without running away. Which will probably happen today. I’d be surprised if I could go three minutes without freaking out.

The school was around a ten minute drive from my house. Plenty of time to really set into perspective where I was going. I checked my phone to make sure I would be able to call my mom in case something went wrong, made sure I had my schedule, and soon enough we were all exiting the bus.

In front of me was a huge building. This was the human entrance to the school. Giants was on the other side so I at least didn’t have to deal with that until later on in the day. Hopefully. Compared to what I was guessing the giant side of the school, the human side was extremely tiny. Overall, the place looked very nice. They had well-kept flowerbeds on the outside with a couple benches outside for I guess when students came here before the doors open.

When you walked into the building, there were lockers lining the walls up until you reached the doorways to the main classes. People were crowding all over, trying to meet up with their friends or just trying to get to class early. It all felt too much for me. I wasn’t used to being around so many people at once and it was really overwhelming me. Meanwhile, I still needed to figure out where the heck my class was in this mess. Somewhere in this hallway hopefully…

After wandering around aimlessly for ten minutes, I finally found the classroom, thankfully in the human school. The only problem was that I had all eyes on me. I was not used to this however. One or two people? I could deal with. But with and entire classroom full? It just made my nerves go all over the place, and of course I didn’t show it at all. Staring at the tiled ground and finding the one empty seat on the far left of the class between two girls who both glared at me like I just interrupted their very important conversation about how their makeup looked. I mean I did, but I was too afraid to apologize now that they already hated me.

Overall, the first half of the day was okay. No one talked to me and I didn’t talk to anyone. Mostly because there were so many whispers and mentions of me that had me thinking they were already talking bad about me. Why was all the attention on me? I was probably the most uninteresting person ever. I even heard someone say that I wasn’t going to last a week in this place, which seemed right if I were being honest.

The bell rang, releasing us for lunch, and I just followed the crowd that started flooding the halls. I wasn’t hungry. At all. It’s just that I don’t know where I’m going in this huge place. The human side of the school looked really small compared the the giants’ side, but it’s really big inside.

The cafeteria was shared between both giants and humans. Why was I barely finding this out now? I had zero idea. It would have been helpful to know that beforehand so I could mentally prepare myself, but now I didn’t have anymore time and I was currently standing right in the middle of the floor searching for a place to hide.

Of course there were human tables nearby, but I had no idea which group of people sat at which. The last thing I needed was for someone to get mad at me over a table. That would be pointless. So, here I was. Definitely not on the human side of the cafeteria, and instead standing right in the middle of a walkway for giants. Can I add on that? I was too frozen in fear to move.

Sure, there were other humans walking along where I was, but they could actually move. I had no idea how they could when people that were as tall as skyscrapers, some even taller, were walking along with them. I don’t get it! Even more odd, humans were going around the giant tables and climbing into something that took them on top.

So this place did have commodities for humans. There apparently were elevators that took you on top of the giant table to human tables on top. That only took me forever to figure out at that moment, but that’s what was going on. So everyone was friends here or something? Well, maybe not everyone since there were other humans sitting on their side.

After taking a good five minutes to gather up my thoughts, I finally was able to walk away from being in the middle of the floor and in a corner table where no one was currently sitting. The farthest table away from the giants. And it seemed like no one was going to sit here anyways. I can’t believe that I didn’t run away. I mean I was just frozen in fear, but that doesn’t count!

Lunch was loud. Mainly because the giant’s voices were so loud and I hated the fact that no one minded but me. These other kids have been here for who knows how long so I was guessing they were just used to it. It made sense in my head.

Th day went on. The second half of my school day was mainly in the giant’s side, which I dreaded, but they made a separate hall to get there. One that avoided being stepped on I was guessing. The classrooms here were huge of course, and they had humans on a separate desk all together. To avoid what you may ask? I had zero idea.

It was going alright until my last period. I had successfully avoided giants all day (To some extent) and then my last period came tumbling down right on top of me. First, there was no desk in the back that had the human-sized ones. Second, humans were taking one of those elevators like at lunch to get on top of a giant’s desk acting like they weren’t just a hundred feet up in the air. Third, but last, the teacher was approaching me. Did I mention she was a giant?

“You must be Nathan! Nice to meet you!” She had greeted, crouching down and holding her hand out. Did… did she want me to shake her hand. Er… finger? Oh heck. My heart was beating fast as I stared at her outstretched hand. Um. What do I do? And suddenly those same eyes came onto me. Peering right through my body. Again, why did all the attention come to me?

I reached out a shaky hand, trying to keep my legs from buckling underneath me, and lightly placed my hand over the tip of her finger as she gently shook it. I gulped, expecting for there to be more, but she smiled softly and sadly at me. What did that mean? Should I be worried? What class was this even? I just read on my paper to come to room 135.

“Hm… now who doesn’t have a human partner?” She turned her head up, looking for any raised hands. I couldn’t see anything. Heck, I could barely even look up. There were still a couple eyes on me, and I couldn’t help but feel the acid from my stomach leave a nasty taste in my mouth. Just a couple more minutes and you can go home. I had to remind myself before the teacher smiled and told me to follow her. I did, just a little ways from her, trying to ignore the stares that were practically stabbing me in the back.

I couldn’t help but hear whispers again. Where was she taking me. Wait let me rephrase that. Who was she taking me to? By the looks of it giants and humans were randomly paired up for some odd reason. On my way to whoever’s desk I was going to, I couldn’t help but dread this. What if I fell off? What if the person who’s desk I’ll be on forgets I’m there and knocks me off? What if they don’t like me? Questions swirled in my head, but I knew I wasn’t going to get answers right now.

The teacher stopped, turned down to me and smiled. Was she waiting for me to do something? Oh wait. Elevator, right. Multiple sets of eyes were on me once again as the elevator slowly went up. Nerves built up inside of me. Anxiety. Heck, maybe even a panic attack. I felt dizzy, but I would survive. There was only thirty minutes left of the day. I could survive. Yeah.

The elevator stopped, opening a little gate to the open desk with a huge journal on it. I gulped, taking my first steps. The first thing I noticed about this guy was that he didn’t look as welcoming as the teacher. He gave me “Quiet Kid” vibes. Not to mention that he was dressed in mostly black.

Replayed in my mind was the sick smirk and laughter coming from my captors. If this guy got ahold of me I would be dead. I was so sure of it that I tasted the vile in my mouth and my knees nearly buckling right from underneath me. But, I couldn’t help but wonder why he was wearing a nervous look on his face instead of the usual sickening grin.

“Ryker, Nathan. Nathan, Ryker. I’m sure you’ll both get along well.” The teacher cheered, heading to the front of the class and taking role call. Leaving all alone with someone who looked like he would rip my body in half. Just great. As soon as I had stepped out of the elevator, I was once again frozen with fear. This time at a much closer radius than I would have preferred. Because now I was definitely in arms reach of him. Not something that I’d like to be near.

My eyes fell to the ground as tears threatened my eyes. Too bad I wasn’t going to let anyone see them. I slowly walked over to the human desk, seeing that it was father from the edge than I had thought and there were railings so it would pretty hard to fall off without actually trying.

The teacher smiled while standing up from her chair, “Welcome to Human and Giant Interactions for those of you who don’t know. I’m Mrs. Kay. Some people are taking this class willingly, or they just need the credit to graduate, but I would still love to get everyone involved and take this class seriously.” She had explained. What. I don’t remember putting this on the extracurricular format. Then again the hospital did say these kinds of classes would benefit for me. So did they really have to put this class on my schedule? Life really did hate me. A lot.

This class went by painfully slow. It was mainly just videos on current events with humans and giants, and then Mrs. Kay asking us questions to which only the people on the front desks had answered. Not that I even wanted to answer a question like that. But it was mostly hard to focus when you had someone who could very easily push me off the side of the desk without even trying. I mean, I never once looked behind me the entire class period. Only hearing him flip pages in his notebook from taking notes like everyone else in the room.

One other thing I had noticed was that rarely anyone had talked. For a class that was supposed to bring humans and giants together, it really didn’t seem like it. Then again, I had no idea wha they really did in this class. Maybe she just doesn’t like talking? Or people didn’t want to get in trouble or something? They were too tired? That would make the most since it was the end of the day.

It felt like forever before the final bell had rang. I rushed down that stupid elevator thingy and hurried out the doors to the bus stop so I wouldn’t have to dread this until tomorrow morning all over again.

My mom was still at work, so I just cooked some dinner for myself, made her a plate and stuffed it in the fridge and went to my room. This was going to hard to get through, but if my mom thinks it’ll help then I believe her. I mean, what other choice did I have?

As soon as I heard the front door open, I saw my mom sighing while putting up her purse. I walked to the kitchen to heat up her dinner, earning a quiet chuckle form her. It sort of made me sad to think that she’ll never smile the same way again. Heck, she can’t even stand it when people touch her after what had happened. But at least we’re both still alive.

“Smells amazing Nate.” She complimented, using her same soft and broken voice. She grabbed one of the plastic plates from the cabinet and getting herself a cup of tea.

“How was school?”

What was I even supposed to say to her? That it was terrifying every second? That I barely even survived the day without going under a panic attack? I couldn’t tell her that. She’d be so worried about me she wouldn’t worry about herself. I couldn’t do that to my mom.

“It was good.” I put on my best fake smile and made her plate.

“That’s good. There were no troubles?”

“None so far.”

“Thank you for doing this Nate. I just want you to have a normal childhood. I couldn’t have you at that hospital any longer.” She sadly explained, planting a soft kiss on my cheek.

“I know mom. I’ll be fine.”

She gave me a warm smile before taking her plate and sitting on the couch with the tv on. She didn’t need to know that I was practically forcing myself to even be around other people. It would put too much stress on her. For now, I’ll just force myself to endure whatever decides to throw itself at me.

————————————————

And first chapter officially done. To be honest I wrote this just for the fun of it. Who knows, maybe I’ll actually make this a series instead of abandoning it? Don’t know.

#g/t #G/t writing #g/t angst #g/t fearplay #Oc: Nathan #Oc: Ryker #Restoration #my oc’s #Gt #sfw g/t #giant/tiny

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forwhump · 6 months ago

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a/n; I’m back !! (sorry if you hate me & you didn’t want me to come back)

I’m back w something a little different this time & that is : point’s pov ! I wasn’t gonna post any of his stuff (there’s a lot)(there’s a lot of everything as a matter of fact) until I was posting more towards the end stuff but I figured he’s just FUCKED in this one & that’s a lot of fun so what the hell <3

tw/cw: captivity, forced imprisonment, psychological torture, mentions of rape, mentions of noncon, misgendering, transphobia, mentions of forced impregnation, mentions of execution, self harm, dehumanization

living weapon whumpee, military whump, creepy whumper (I think he’s creepy idk he’s just fucked)

The lowermost corridor has always reminded Point of something from a horror movie. He’s always loved it.

It had been constructed haphazardly, carved crudely out of rock. It extends for the better part of a mile, hardly lit and only then with flickering orange fluorescence. It’s cold as all hell. Point is always preceded by clouds of his breath. The weight of his boots make his footsteps echo, loud and ominous.

There’s a single cell carved into the wall at the very end. It’s closed with rusted bars, and it’s gimmicky. The bars are for show. The cell doesn’t even need to be closed, but the bars are there for the same reason there’s no light, no heat, not one other person. The same reason the ceiling of the cell was carved lower than anywhere in the corridor, and the inside of it was fitted with hooks and chains bolted into the floors and the walls and the ceilings.

Only one freak is ever kept in the lowermost level. It was constructed particularly for him.

For whatever reason, he was allowed to kneel this time, which is generous. He’s kneeling in the centre of the dark cell, arms splayed, shackled to the walls on either side of him. His throat is shackled both to the wall behind him and the floor and front of him. He looks up at Point with unmistakable hatred and Point couldn’t keep himself from grinning if it was his job.

He’d been gagged, at least, a bite bar, a small mercy Point would never admit to. He knows how to keep the freak under control, but he’d be lying if he said he enjoyed his time in biting distance. Too many of his own men had lost their lives to those teeth.

“Hey, big guy,” Point greets. “How’s it hanging?”

The freak’s lips pull back from his teeth in a snarl. He’s such an ugly creature. Hideous, Point would go so far as to say, and he would mean it. He’s a freak. He’s a monster. He looks it every bit, too, just as he’s meant to, a weapon designed to instill fear in every sense. He’s massive, patchwork, raised scars and ruined flesh, nothing human about him. Unnatural, inky hair. He’s disgusting, really, in a genuinely stomach churning, shock factor way.

The girl really loves him. It’s never made any fuckin’ sense to Point — it leaves a bitter taste in his mouth, in fact — but he knows it’s true. Somehow, the girl loves this.

It always makes the least sense when Point is looking at him directly. Kneeling in the dark, shackled by the throat, hair like a leaking shadow and a face like broken glass. The girl is beautiful; sometimes she gets a bit thin, sometimes a little filthy, and she’d hacked off her tits before Point had gotten his hands on her, which keeps her from perfect, but she’s beautiful. She’s beautiful in that really pale, white haired, porcelain doll kind of way. She’s a young thing and she looks even younger. She’s got a really delicate, sort of vulnerable thing about her, and she has a whore’s mouth, so she’s probably about as close to perfect as she can get. But for some reason, for reasons Point doesn’t think he’ll ever understand, she’s in love with Frankenstein’s monster.

Girls are weird. Point’s been married for seven years and he isn’t any closer to understanding women than he was at thirteen.

It makes him hate this fucking thing. He likes fighting the girl, and she’s beautiful when she cries. She’s beautiful when she begs him to stop. But she’s also beautiful when she’s drugged out of her mind and he can convince her to moan his name, and it makes something under his skin boil that this ugly sack of shit gets to hear her moan his name, too? For nothing. And she loves him? It makes him sick.

He sucls his teeth, and the rattle of the chains echoes eerily through the cell as the freak inhales, seething.

“We don’t think you’ve learned your lesson yet,” Point tells him finally, “so don’t get your hopes up. You’ve really started to become a pain in the ass, asset, so you should be lucky you’re here and we aren’t choosing to put you down. No,” he says, and reaches for his belt, “actually, I brought you something.”

A pair of panties. The girlish kind, cotton, white and dotted with little pink hearts. He’d been keeping them snug against his junk, but he fishes them free to make sure the freak can see exactly what he’s holding. “And a friendly reminder, that the whole time you’re down here,” he explains, for posterity, “I’m fucking her.”

The chains rattle a little more severely, echoes a little more creepily, and Point grins. If he weren’t such a helpless bastard, the freak would be one scary motherfucker.

Point flicks the panties into his face and says, “the whole time. Constantly. The only time I’m not inside her, in some way, is when I’m here with you. Gloating.”

The freak lunges and the iron pulls around his throat. He emits an involuntary sound, the whine of a dog.

“Dog fighting,” Point realizes, and snaps, pointing at the freak. “You’d be great for dog fighting.”

He snarls behind the bite bar, but there’s a break in his voice. A fresh sheen of red starts to shimmer across his chest, bright against the crust of many layers of already dried blood.

“Just like that,” Point tells him, but he isn’t smiling anymore. “You don’t know when to quit. You’d be perfect.” It doesn’t get the reaction Point is fishing for, so he tries again. “My dick probably still smells like her,” he says, “if you’d like to check before I go.”

A short, snarling sort of sound. A bark, Point would argue.

Almost.

Leisurely, he unbuckles his belt. He shoves his waistband down, not enough to free his junk, but enough that he knows the freak can see the red lipstick smudged across his skin. Lazy, he says, “I really love her in red lipstick.”

The freak roars like some kind of animal and Point grins again. There it is.

He pulls his pants back up. “I really don’t think you’d be this obsessed with her if you knew about half the things I’ve done to her,” he says, and the freak roars a little more feral, and Point grins a little wider. “She’s been pretty thoroughly used.”

The freak lunges with so much force that the rock of the furthest wall actually cracks. The sound is like lightning and Point jumps, recovering with a nervous laugh and a quick shake of his head. He doesn’t let the freak see in his face the way the nerve of him sparks exactly like rage under his skin. “Easy, big guy,” he says, and the creature snarls like some kind of beast. “I’ll let you in on a little secret,” Point says with a sneer, snatching the upper hand back from him, “and that’s that I wanna get your girl pregnant so bad,” and the beast chokes like he’s dying. “So bad. The higher ups won’t let me,” he assures him, “as of yet, just ‘cause it’s such a risk even having her here. But I make some good points, and I really want to, so I’m confident I’ll wear ‘em down.”

The beast lunges again and the rock doesn’t crack but his shoulder is pulled out of its socket with a sound that’s even louder.

Point grins again. “And then she’d be really thoroughly used, wouldn't she?” He asks. “Would this all still be worth it to you then?”

He looks down at the beast, who’s vibrating with hatred.

Point walks backwards as he stalks towards the grate of the bars. “Maybe if we’re lucky,” he says, “we’ll get to find out.”

The beast tries to lunge and screams behind the gag as his dislocated shoulder severs completely with a gross, wet sound.

“Ah,” Point says, delighted. “I’ll remember to tell Medic about that in a few days. First,” he reminds him, “I’m gonna spend those few days fucking your girl, and I’m gonna spend the nights in between fucking her, too. If I get any sleep, I’ll sleep still inside her, and I mean that. I want you to think about that.”

It tries to say something from behind its bite bar but it doesn’t matter what it is. It talks in threats and short sentences. It isn’t very bright. A lot of brain damage. A couple more bullets to the brain and it might not even recognize a pretty, pregnant blonde in its unit. Point might not have to keep fighting it for her.

“Hang in there, big guy,” he throws over his shoulder as he leaves, pulling the grate closed behind him.

He makes it half a mile down the horror corridor before he tips his head back and laughs, mean. “Fuck!” He shouts at the ceiling, and laughs again.

Point is known among men, superior and subordinate, as being mean. Cruel, some say. Crazy, others. Which is fair — Point would be lying if he said he didn’t enjoy cruelty, and he won’t ever apologize for that. He feels no guilt or remorse — only joy. The thing is that point gets no credit for his saintly, patronly self control.

He feels it now, serpentine in his hands, how hellishly he hates that thing. They never should’ve created it. It was a mistake, and it should have been put down the first time it killed one of Point’s men. The surgeons, the district’s fuckin’ babies, their precious fuckin’ surgeons, they love it. A lot of time and money and creation had gone into it, and they say it’s so close to being perfect. They just need to put an end to the violent outbursts. They’ll let Point kill it, but not permanently. Never permanently.

He wants to. More than anything, he wants to. It takes everything he has to keep from slaughtering it whenever he gets it alone. Not asking for permission, but begging for forgiveness later.

The effort of his restraint builds into a fury that he takes with him upstairs, into the barracks, and out on the beast’s girlfriend.

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luringfantasy · 9 months ago

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Punishments with Loki

blue = sad loki; red = toxic loki; green = mischievous god of mischief; orange = absolute filth

Thor 1 Loki

Loki punishes you when you get on his nerves sometimes he doesn't even bother to punish you instead he chooses to ignore you. He doesn't understand why you are with him anyways.

He know (however untrue it is) that one day you are going to leave him. So he doesn't bother.

But when he punishes you, it's more of a punishment for him. Paddles and spankings are his go to. But seeing you hurt hurts him more.

Avengers Loki

When I say Avenger timeline Loki is mean, I mean it (see what I did there?). First he gives you rules to follow and then makes it impossible to follow those rules, so he gets to punish you. Spanking and paddle are his general tools, but he picks up whips when he is in the MOOD.

He doesn't edge you, he couldn't be bothered by wasting his time, trying to get to know you so intimately. He doesn't want to waste his energy by focusing on you.

But he does overstimulate you very often, tying you up with a vibrator or his magic pleasuring you in the most intense and torturous way, leaving you for hours on end, sometimes even forgetting about you in his grand schemes.

Thor: The Dark World Loki

He is in the dungeon, but his princely status gets him access to you once a week. He would wreck havoc on you whenever possible. After all you are his only source of entertainment. Contrary to what some people might assume, he first gets to know you intimately, then uses this knowledge against you. Loves to get you riles up, tease you.

Sometimes not allowing you releases when you visit him, asking you to hold on until your next visit, only to leave you hanging again, or punish you if you fail. But none of his punishments are intense. Funny banter during your meet ups is appreciated, he loves a challenge.

He overstimulates you often, leaving you weak and unable to walk, only to then ask you to lay down with him - this one time.

Thor Ragnarok Loki

More often than not Loki lets your transgression go. He is just happy to have you here with him. You have been the only constant in his life and he just admires you a lot. This is obviously very different from when you started your relationship but you were not complaining.

If you rile him up, or act like a brat, he sometimes fucks you hard, but that's the extent of it. Punishments with him have become rarer and rarer. He is soft for you.

Sometimes when he is angry with you, he becomes really mean.. and withhold kisses from you (how dare he!) but more often that not, he gives in, when you bribe him with a chocolate from Midgard.

TVA Loki

Contrary to what people might think, TVA Loki is not the softest person in the bedroom. Far from it. He has embraced his identity completely. He was and is the god of mischief and anyone close to him knows this. Especially you.

Introducing new toys to the play is a common thing. When you break his rules (which is usually because how difficult they are to follow), he gets to "play with you without any condition". This means that for a day or two he is utterly and completely in control of you, mind and body alike.

The day usually starts with you giving him a bj, followed by a row of meetings while his magic plays with you. He loves the thrill of knowing that you can be caught at any moment, he loves how desperately you try to hide your blushing face from others, acting chaste and pure.

The nights are always the same. Hours and hours of edging for you, followed by either nothing or a ruined orgasm. If anything he is the Devil or Mischief.

TAGLIST: @lokixryss@alyeskathewave@ladymischief11@tukes@yelkmelk@crimson25

#loki #loki imagine #loki marvel #marvel mcu #mcu loki #loki laufesyon x reader #loki x you #mcu imagine #loki fanfic

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itsabouttimex2 · 10 months ago

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Amazing job at writing the new part as always! It flows nicely and you can easily tell how familiar Macaque & MC without making him OOC. Honestly i admire your grasp at these characters and ability of doing something as complex as interactive series. I'm kinda curious how do you plan things and how far ahead but only if you want to share it ofc.

Going back to the actually piece- it actually made me look up the meanings of flowers despite the original thought of it only being because of the color association. Two first flowers have pretty easy and basic meaning. I can see why the edgy (/affectionate) mentor wouldn't want them near his home.

Freesia - friendship trust innocence

yellow roses - friendship, joy and similar stuff

The one choosen by Macaque are a little more interesting.

Tansies - immortality, resistance, "I declare against you", sometimes used in medicine

black dahlias - (warning of) betrayal, sadness, (not specified black ones: dignity, good luck, elegance)

I'm guessing the tansies are about him being bitter about the Wukong and their more practical use. Black dahlias could be about Monkey King but also some kind of foreshadowing depending on our choice. Or I'm reading into it too much.

Hopefully I'm not overthinking it or completely missing the point (and if i am, I'm really,really sorry). Just wanted to share it in case other readers didn't look it up + i know some people like to see their work analysed but if i'm going to far please let me know! Have a good day/night! :]

(Sorry for any mistakes and feel free to delete the ask)

Oh my god, thank you so much! That’s such a sweet thing to say! (Please never stop analyzing my work I put a lot of effort into it💜💜)

🌻🌻I’ll start with flowers: you are right on the money here. Freesia especially are bright and colorful blooms, coming in many different gorgeous colors. Yellow roses are just the same, bright and cheery and so similar to the sun.

And, given that freesia come in orange and yellow… it’s possible the potted plants were a living reminder of Sun Wukong that Macaque finally got sick of and ripped apart. Or he just took advantage of someone else shredding the innocent flowers and took something that Y/N worked hard on and changed it to his liking instead. (Written to be ambiguous as to which scenario occurred.)

Notably, the new flowers not only match his own personal feelings, but even his color scheme! Yellow, then red and black. Twice over do these flowers symbolize him, something he took and changed to make more suitable to his tastes and feelings.

But he’s not the one who takes care of them- no, it’s Y/N who is dedicated to seeing them grow.

His student tending and nurturing the flowers that represent Macaque, while Macaque destroys/allows the destruction of the flowers that represent his student. Huh. Funny.

Okay flower rant done.🌻🌻

Macaque is such an interesting character to write, given that there’s a spike of cruelty barbing out from almost every action he takes. I think a lot of people have forgotten that the man hasn’t had a redemption arc in canon- he displays zero regret for, say… manipulating and trying to kill MK. Or leveling the Dragon Palace of the East Sea. Or assaulting Tang, a strict non-combatant. Or holding Mei’s life hostage.

He doesn’t feel bad for doing any of these. If he does, he’s keeping tight-lipped about it. No apologies. No direct atonement.

And even on the extremely rare circumstance that he’s being “kind”, like deciding to stop torturing MK in Shadowplay, it comes across as almost “I’m bored with you, you aren’t fun anymore.”

He’s not a good guy. So even with Y/N, who he genuinely does care for, there’s this level of manipulation.

Like, he calls Y/N adorable, which sounds nice… but there’s almost a level of victim-blaming to it. No matter how roundabout his words, Macaque basically says to his own student: “If you looked different, people wouldn’t bother you, so let me change the way you look.”

And they trust him enough to agree.

Or letting them cook in fear outside his door when he’s clearly near enough to open it, but dropping the act when they start to break down.

He’s such an interesting character to write ugh I love it.

I had a lot of the routes planned pretty far out, actually, and I’ll give a few examples of what was planned:

Spider Demon Y/N was sort of naive and excitable, but was going to mature/sour after realizing that their beloved queen was, in fact, the bad guy. They were going to have to come to terms with her necessary defeat and their own part in betraying her, as well as living on after you’ve cut ties to your family. Then, readers were going to be able to pick one other henchman to convince to join the heroes.

Dragon Y/N was going to have to both gain Ao Guang’s (their father) approval to live on the surface, and decide how they felt about MK possessing the Ruyi Jingu Bang. They fought using two strings of beaded pearls, utilizing them as whips and grappling hooks to maneuver around the battle field. Also, they hated Macaque. Genuinely throwing hands on sight if they saw that edgy rat.

Heir/Proxy Y/N was going to be a pretty miserable and clingy person, having spent most of their life alone on account of both the LBD and Mayor’s influence. Overcoming their fears and anxieties of being unlovable was going to be a massive part of the journey, learning to love themself and be loved in turn. They were going to have to learn to master the powers forcibly implanted into their body, trying to prevent themself from being sacrificed for power to aid LBD’s onwards path to ‘destiny’.

Ne Zha’s Y/N was going to be cute and polite, very excited to explore the mortal realm outside the grasp of their overprotective mentor/brother. They were also going to have to deal with the first two lotus princes (also overprotective) and Ao Bing, who served as a dear friend.

Sun Wukong’s Y/N was going to be his estranged child who was bitter over ML inheriting the staff instead of them. They were going to despise him for never training them, having to find masters and teachers elsewhere all across the world. In turn, he was desperately trying to make amends and reestablish a strong bond with his cherished progeny, hoping to reconnect eventually.

Also Mei was going to call Y/N “Broth-Face”.

#Time Talks #Choose Your Own Adventure #A Brand New Journey

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bijoumikhawal · 1 year ago

Text

Bite the hand that starves you: Chapter Two

Fic as of this chapter contains: discussion of abortion, references to drug use, intersex and trans characters, torture/graphic violence, colonialism and its aftermath,

This chapter contains a scene with torture, specifically the torture of children. It is thematically and atmospherically relevant, but you won't be unable to understand the fic if you skip it. It is contained within linebreaks, and starts with "Garak took a break after the first three."

Kardasi: Peikirvi - would translate to something like "concubine", specifically refers to an individual that socially presents as male, and was assigned such at birth, but can carry children (and often could impregnate someone else), who is legally bound to someone. Usually this is done with a pre-existing couple who has fertility issues.

---

Garak was shifting restlessly. Julian sat up, putting aside his padd and checking the nearest readout. Nothing looked good, of course, but nothing looked too drastically worse either. It was a steady degradation. He got up, checking the other three, which were much the same.

Garak wasn’t conscious. He’d been for a little earlier… Julian told himself that it was good he was resting. However, Garak was mumbling something.

Julian touched his shoulder. “Garak.”

Garak stayed restless, but it was without connection to anything Julian did. He sighed. It was too early to give him another round of medication. Julian bent forwards, listening carefully. Most of it was slurred beyond what the universal translator could handle, but he did catch-

“So what if I hated you? What if I loved you? It doesn’t matter. You’re dead.”

There was no intrigue to be mustered at the admittedly, very odd words. Only a further heaviness to the whole situation. Garak wasn’t conscious, so it certainly wasn’t a lie, but it could be nothing more than a dream. Either he had lost someone, or even his sleep wasn’t allowing him to rest.

Julian made a mental note, one of dozens of others, to see if bad dreams persisted as a result of the implant. He made himself a cold glass of raktajino and went back to his chair. He needed to be up for quite some time, after all.

---

Getting Lokar to let Garak do as he pleased wasn't too difficult, as it turned out. After all, this current form of their relationship was founded on his pity. He knew Garak was cunning- but that pity came from Garak's lost potential, and that meant he was harmless. So when a mission from the Order came, Lokar thought nothing of his garden loving peikirvi begging to have some time planet side, with real soil and sun.

Sometimes that was really why Garak went, too.

He never planted orchids- after Romulus, those were for him alone. It was so green on Bajor. On Cardassia, foliage most commonly came in browns, oranges, and blues. Even with that difference, he wondered if the soft growing plants of the past Tolan had told him of once looked like these.

He tried not to think about the things Tolan had told him too often. Especially as, most of the time- he really was working while on Bajor.

This time wasn't different from the others. Garak’s skillset for assassinations wasn't very useful for the situation here. Occasionally he cracked codes the Bajora had managed to be clever at creating- but he didn't have to leave the station for that. No, they called him down for when they needed confessions, or a punishment. This time it was both.

The Siteyi resistance cell had done another round of bombing, targeting the field admin center near a refugee camp. Immediately, the Infantry gathered up some suspects and witnesses, and now they needed Garak for the rest.

On paper, the Obsidian Order didn't keep any facilities on Bajor- they used military facilities in a rare example of cooperation. In reality, they only occasionally used those. Why make a fuss and have to manage Central Command when kitchens and “under construction” factory shells worked fine?

Today he was going to one of the latter. The protective detail Lokar assigned him was never hard to get rid of when he needed to. At times, he suspected they were glad to loose him.

The shell was remote, in a mountainous region, and colder inside than out. The agent who greeted him looked satisfyingly miserable.

Garak breathed on his hands, grateful for even that slight warmth. “Who do we have today?”

“We collected 20 from the area yesterday. Six have made confessions or given us information- they're still in detention, but you shouldn't need to deal with them today. Someone else was called in earlier as well, and she's already started work.”

“Seven today, then.”

“Yes. All Bajora, no defectors or foreigners helping them- three male, seven female, and…” the agent stopped before continuing, though with the control not to look at Garak while she did. “...four indeterminate.”

Garak smiled at her. What an interesting way of putting it. The Kardasi word she'd used did not refer to people, or even animals. It was most often used for insects.

He breathed on his hands again. It didn't matter. It really didn't. “I'll leave those four to your other specialist, if you don't mind.”

“Of course.” She stopped at a door. “There's just one in right now. I'll pass on your message.”

---

Julian’s first impulse had been to reach out to the Cardassian Union again, but he remembered how that had gone last time, and Garak’s privacy about the whole thing.

His immediate second thought was the author of the paper he’d found instructing the differentiation of false positives. He’d sent a short message off immediately after he finished reading it. She was a Cardassian doctor on Vulcan, named Khúcho Ammshah. It was a long shot, but his look into her history indicated no ties to the Union- in fact, what he found were mentions of some community that had been in tension with the Union since it was formed, and praise for this particular doctor’s openness to the majority culture of her host planet, a sharp contrast to many others there. There was some context he was missing… but at the very least, Julian was reasonably sure she wouldn’t be a security risk to Garak. If she responded.

Julian refreshed his inbox for text communications and voice messages again. Nothing new since this morning.

His other looks at diaspora Cardassian doctors in relevant specializations weren’t going well. Diaspora Cardassian doctors, it seemed, tended to be insular, many refusing to publish in anything but Cardassian languages or similar out of pure principle. A few of the nearest clinics he’d found without Union affiliation had auto-responses enabled informing him not to contact them further upon identifying his communication as coming from Starfleet.

It wasn’t that he didn’t understand why. It simply didn’t make him feel any better to understand, not when a patient and friend’s wellbeing was on the line.

The other collection of research he had been going through was any hits for treating liver damage in Cardassians, of course. His theory was that his best option, considering the Cardassian diet and Garak’s particular habits and health, was taking a surgical tissue sample ahead of time and use a bioregenerative field. But that only gave him cells to work with- not an organ viable for transplant. Of course, normally he’d add a sufficently sized cell culture to an organ generator, but he didn’t have a program for any Cardassian organs, and writing one… took quite some time when a specialist was doing it.

With Garak’s medical luck so far…

He’d cross that bridge when he came to it. The best he could do now was draw a map.

Julian looked at the records for another patient he was working on a treatment plan for to give himself a break. And found himself fumbling like mad when a notification pinged, verifying something had arrived in his inbox.

Hello, Dr. Bashir. I'm intrigued and quite sympathetic to you and your patient G. Pregnancy and related procedures can be complicated at the best of times, as I'm sure you know, and I can certainly glean just how messy the situation you have on your hands is, even from your brief communication. Unfortunately, I would not be comfortable advising you at a distance given the particular physiology of patient G, and it will be a little while before I could arrange to travel to Deep Space Nine, especially if my superior thinks I am more needed here. In the interim, I have put together a document covering some basic information that should help you and I suspect were not covered by Starfleet Medical, as to my knowledge most Cardassian subjects studied by the SFM were non-childbearing males, and most research has covered topics related to combat medicine. Healer/Dr. Ammshah.

Julian read it over a few times.

Travel in person? Exactly how serious was this?

Julian had had to have an abortion on his own once, when he hadn't quite given birth control the seriousness it deserved, and that had been fairly simple.

A quick skim of the document, shamelessly utilizing augmented speed reading, didn't exactly provide an answer.

Dr. Ammshah, I'm very grateful for your offer to pay my infirmary a visit, but first, I would have to clear it with my patient to ensure no misunderstandings occur. I also must confess a degree of surprise at the offer, and I suspect that may not surprise you. I am somewhat familiar with Cardassian politics, though I'll admit, they still confuse me a great deal- is there lacking research on the matter of transgender and intersex men and their pregnancies? Or is it the particular procedures available that introduce a problem? Dr. JSB

---

Garak took a break after the first three. He would've had to anyways, this wasn't a day where he was fresh and they were tired. He'd had to get up early, get on a transport, and drive tor two hours. Handling detainees was taxing enough without that and the cold.

“Are we feeding them?” He asked absently.

“Not until we're done here.” The other “specialist” replied.

It was even colder in the rooms they were using for interrogation than out of them. It made Garak irritable- especially with the last one. It was better to pace oneself, when dealing with a bunch like this. He rubbed his thumb over some crusted blood he'd missed on his knuckle as he walked back.

This time there were two bodies bent in stress positions over chairs. Relatives- or perhaps partners. Close enough that keeping them together was more effective than not.

They both stank horribly. Bajorans had a stronger body odor in general, but he could tell these two hadn't been able to hold what was in their bowels during detention before being allowed to use a bathroom for a few minutes.

Garak sighed, holding a hand in front of his mouth to inhale less of it. One at a time was easier.

“Do I need to tell you why I'm here?” He addressed the hooded pair in Bajoran as he shook his knife out of its hiding place. “Or rather- why you're here?”

Quiet, save for some sniffling.

Garak went to the closest one. “This goes smoother for everyone the less I have to repeat myself.” He flicked off their hood with the point of the knife- it would graze the skin, drawing blood, but not deep cuts yet. Pacing himself was even more important with two.

The boy let put a whimper as his face was revealed- both from the burning red line Garak had just left on his face, and the strong light hitting his eyes after hours of dark. The latter was a more effective domestic tactic, but it worked fine here.

Garak’s grip on the knife tightened.

“Are you a mute, young man?” Garak said softly, pressing the blade to the seam of his lips.

The boy shook his head, squeezing his eyes shut tighter.

"Then respond when spoken to.” Garak pulled the knife back. “It's rude to ignore questions.”

The boy licked his lips, and- “S-sorry.”

The other detainee spoke up, then. “What are you saying sorry for?”

Voice high, shaking- another boy, both barely past puberty, if that.

Garak crossed to him and pulled off the hood- with is hand this time- catching the boy’s chin in his hand. His teeth were gritted immediately, squinting up at Garak with anger and fear. “Do you have something to say?”

Adults were easier than children.

“Not to you.” This had to be the older of the two.

Garak dug his nails into his warm jaw. “Then wait your turn.”

They were both thin faced. Ratty clothes. Not feeding them until release meant little- they would've been lucky if they got any food today at all.

Garak let go and paced. “I'll ask again. Do either of you know why you're here?”

“Some shit we didn't do and don't know shit about.”

Garak sighed, as though bored and annoyed. His heart didn't buy into it, unfortunately- it was going fast. Shit, indeed. Perhaps the boy was inspired by the smell. “You must know something. We know you were there at the scene when it happened.”

“Doesn't mean we saw anything.”

Garak took quiet, slow breaths. He hadn’t had anything to eat today either- not that he had an appetite. There was just an awareness of hunger.

He wanted to leave.

He could hear Tain scoffing, and Barkan, younger, remarking, “What should we expect? It's in your nature, after all.”

Garak turned to face them, smiling. “You know something. Even something as small as a description of what you saw or heard during the incident is helpful.”

“What if we were asleep?”

Garak cocked his head. “Who could sleep through such a ruckus?” What nature? The one Tolan shared, or the one Barkan had picked him for? It didn't matter. It really didn't.

“Must not have been that bad.” The first boy finally spoke again.

Garak held up his knife.

---

"I hope I'm not intruding." Julian said as soon as Garak opened the door to his quarters.

Garak put down the balance sheet he was going through. "I take it this isn't simply a friendly visit, then."

Julian slipped inside. "If only… I'm sure you figured that one of the first things I started doing was trying to contact Cardassian doctors, preferably expats."

"And I'm sure you realized they were just as unwilling to speak to you as those in the Union." If not more.

"Yes, but one did get back to me. She wants to travel here to supervise your care. I told her that I would, of course, need your permission."

Garak’s stomach did something that was surely very medically interesting inside him. "I see."

"Garak- I know this is a difficult time for you, but I feel you've undersold just how dire things are, if a doctor based on Vulcan is willing to leave her existing patients for weeks just for one patient with an existing care team."

Two impluses: one to point out his care team really was one doctor and one nurse he somewhat trusted, who knew precious little about his species, and the other- "Are you certain she isn't affiliated with Central Command?"

Julian blinked at him. How sweet, how guileless he was- it was growth, Garak supposed, that Julian hadnt been offended on her behalf. The man he first met likely would have been. "I doubt it. I don't understand the context entirely, but from what I could find, her family has lived on Vulcan for generations- before the Occupation, before the first Cardassian-Tzenkethi war."

New bile rose in Garak's throat. "I see. That's no guarantee, you understand."

"I do. That's why I'm telling you." Julian pulled out a folded paper- from the same notebook he'd used the other night, it seemed. "Her name, office, university she attended- give her a look over."

Garak put the paper in a hidden pocket of his shirt. Julian lingered.

"Is there something else you had to say to me, doctor?"

Julian looked at him. “I had a dream about you last night.”

Garak bit his tongue in favor of letting his venom come out. “Really? What sort of dream?” he half expected it to be a line of some sort (a very poorly timed one, an opportunistic one), so was surprised when Julian’s brow furrowed before he answered.

“I don’t really remember. I know you were there, and it wasn’t happy.”

Something Tolan had told him floated to the front of his awareness and he shooed it away. “What an unfortunate reflection.”

---

"Dr. Bashir, there's a video call for you from Vulcan."

Julian almost dropped his tricorder. "I'll take it in my office, just a moment." He turned back to the patient. “Fortunately, it's just kunowaat.”

The Bajoran sitting in front of him paled. “Just kunowaat?”

“Yes, just kunowaat. And you're lucky enough to be a mild case.” Julian reassured him. “It won't be pleasant- well, you already know that, you're going through it- but I'll have a nurse set you up so you've got a steady stream of diozaine and don't get dehydrated. You might not even have to deal with the full two weeks.”

Garak had gone and given Julian the go ahead only a few hours after getting the information to look Dr. Ammshah up, which Julian had passed on along with some very basic patient information. However, he'd expected her to write him back- he wasn't even sure how she'd gotten the information to call his office directly.

He ran a hand over his hair and his uniform before stepping in. “Doctor Ammshah! Eager to meet face to face?”

Khúcho Ammshah was at the very end of middle aged, her hair having gone half grey, and face lined with evidence of many decades of smiles and furrowed brow ridges. “Somewhat, yes. I'll confess- I'm already on a transport to Deep Space Nine. We're just about to leave port.”

“Oh.” Julian's eyes widened. This was a little while? It'd been three days. “I don't know if I've mentioned it, but I am terribly grateful for your help.”

Her voice was accented- some doctors preferred not to use the translator to avoid miscommunication, so she was speaking in Standard directly.

She laughed good naturedly. “The thanks was implied. I'm aware of… how difficult it would be to find information from my area of expertise, as a Starfleet officer.”

“However, your urgency makes me worry about just how serious the situation I have in my hands is.”

She nodded. “Reasonably. Well, that is part of why I called you- I thought it best to talk about this, rather than write.”

“I see.”

Dr. Ammshah looked down, fiddling with something off screen. “This is a secure line, correct?”

“Correct.” Julian nodded. “I had engineering adjust things- after the Captain's office in ops, this is the most secure terminal for video calls on the station by default.”

“Good. First, I felt the need to come personally because I don't feel comfortable instructing someone on how to do a vacuum aspiration remotely, considering you've never done it on a Cardassian before, and the anatomy I expect we're dealing with can be particularly tricky.”

That smarted, but it wasn't a bad point. Unlike most species- including yes, all the ones Julian had hands on experience with reproductive care for- the cloaca added some additional care one needed to take during the procedure.

“Particularly tricky?” Julian asked. “In what way?”

“Less space, for one thing. It varies of course, but patient G has both reproductive capacities, and therefore likely has- er, to be blunt, a normal sized penis.”

“You're sure.”

“Reasonably.” Dr. Ammshah leaned back on her chair. “Ah, there's the engine- the Union does not currently recognize transgender persons as existing among the Cardassian species , much less as a population needing care. Other species have them, but as far as most Cardassian doctors are concerned, that's only their problem. If your patient G was transgender, you would know based on how he gets treated by other Cardassians. Especially considering most of the ones that visit your station are from the military. For intersex Cardassians, the most common anatomy for persons who socially present as male and can get pregnant is a fully functional penis, testes, ovaries, and a more developed uterus, as opposed to the underdeveloped, vestigial one you find in perisex Cardassian males.”

“Alright. I definitely haven't noticed the Cardassians he's interacted with him do any misgendering.” Julian made a note to himself for later- he should probably be more careful when there were other Cardassians around. Even if they thought he was fine… you never knew. “What's the other thing you're worried about?”

"It's not uncommon for pregnant Cardassians to get a little…" Dr. Ammshah made a gesture with her hands. "Aggressive."

"Aggressive." Julian repeated.

"More specifically insecure, which most respond to with aggression."

"I see." Julian had simply chalked that up to environmental stress- Garak didn't seem to enjoy asking for help, serious medical visits, and not quite three months prior, had nearly died. Even though he'd put on an unbothered face the day after surgery, Julian hadn't expected him to really settle into his new normal for quite some time. Which would now take even longer. And of course, the situation at hand was hardly a simple matter.

"How has he been?"

Julian told her most of what he'd just been thinking. "...and further, as far as I know, Garak does not have a committed or even casual partner, which I have some context concerning what that means for him."

Dr. Ammshah nodded. "To contextualize it further… how do I put it?” The other doctor sighed. “The state is very concerned both with punishing people for having the wrong sex- sex outside of enjoinments, not between mates, that sort of thing. It also concerns itself with not having too many undesirable individuals to deal with. So abortion is not illegal, but it’s access is restricted, and it comes with a degree of social stigma.”

Julian had gathered much of that through implication. So far, none of the Cardassian literature Garak had shared with him touched on abortion in the modern era- overall, most of it had so far been works in historical settings.

“My guess is, given the lack of Cardassian delegations visiting the station recently, that our patient had a recent mating cycle. It’s a known problem that during that time, the spermacathe normally tries to inseminate an individual that isn’t sexually active. That’s why you might see a married couple with a child who phenotypically could not be the fathers on occasion; they're the only exception to laws regarding bastards, so long as the biological father keeps his distance."

"And for single parents?" Julian shifted in his seat.

"A state accepted reason to get an abortion- of course, the alternative, giving birth to an undeniable bastard, is punishable by law. But still with shame. If one is of age to have a mating cycle and have had sex previously, they ought to have a legally recognized relationship. No consideration for the fact that assault happens.” Dr. Ammshah noticed discomfort that Julian hadn't quite been able to hide. "What is it?"

Julian sighed. "I... there's an assumption in human culture, I suppose, that makes me suprised that a culture who's doctors are mostly female are part of a system where abortion is treated that way. But I should know better. Thank you for calling me. I'll start preparing for your arrival, doctor.”

Julian gave himself a few seconds after ending the call before pressing his commbadge. "Bashir to Sisko. I have a consulting doctor coming who just conformed she would be arriving in 7 days. Her name is Khúcho Ammshah."

"I'll make sure security and logistics are notified." Then, after a moment. "What do you need a Hebitian doctor for, Julian?"

And there was that word- the same one that came up when looking over her background. "That's private patient information sir, I'm sorry. Also- being honest, I don't quite understand the significance."

"It's too long to explain it over comms. Remind me about it next time we're both off duty."

#ds9 #Garashir #garak x bashir #deep space nine #star trek ds9 #my writing #Fic: Bite the hand that starves you

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wsbhonni · 11 months ago

Text

Sanctuary (Chapter 1: Awake to You)

Description (copied from Ao3):

The Collector's obsession with his favorite thief went too far, leading him into voluntarily allow Arkin to capture, torture and kill him- fully expecting to die. But Arkin couldn't do it, so now they're at a standoff at Arkin's apartment- which resulted in sex.

Asa's crush on Arkin prior to this can be described by reading "Dogmatica" - on the [The Collector/Arkin O'Brien] tag. Note: Although "Dogmatica" belongs to a series, in this context it poses more as a general idea to Asa's infatuation with Arkin, and is not related to the canon of this fic <3

Tags (copied from Ao3): The Collector/Arkin O'BrienThe Collector & Arkin O'Briencollectkin - RelationshipArkin O'BrienThe Collector (Collector Series)Asa Emorycollab ficWe wrote this in our private dmstaking turns to write the next part as we goPorn With PlotThinly veiled excuse to write these two having sex(Kinda) Canon-compliantbut with A LOT of headcannons and personal interpretationsweird enemies/fuck buddies to loversSub! AsaBut sometimes its the other way aroundbut mostly Arkin fucking Asa's brains outCanon-Typical ViolenceName-CallingAsa is AutisticSmutShameless SmutAlso Asa has piercings- Wesley said soDom! ArkinImplied/Referenced TortureGayGay gay sexrough gay gay sexArkin just straight ignoring he's having a moral crisisAsa tried to get killed but failed so now he's fucking the guy who tried to kill himhe's mildly depressed but that's okaythey are both running away from their problemsSlow BurnSlow BuildAsa has an established crush on Arkin but we havent gotten to that yet tsk tsk tskTags May ChangeNo beta we die like Abby-Topaz-Chad-Lucello-Victoria-Jill-Uhhhhh and the 267 party ravers

"-" : Wsbhonni (MaddlyUpsetti) "*": Orange (SpoopyDooper) (And yes, we did edit each others parts as well! For the sake of transparency lol-)

*A dream played out before the killer’s eyes before the world fades to black.

Only for him to blink again, his eyes open at the blurry mosaic of a white wall adorned with a few tiny pictures, and a wooden dresser next to a well-used coat hanger. The warm light spilling into his view making him wince. His muscles strains under the slightest movement, when he tries to grasp at the blanket covering him. His thoughts jump to the soft mattress beneath his aching body - is he dead yet? If not, is this the hospital?

He isn’t entirely sure, but he knows that he is breathing.

-Asa was too weak to move properly- he wasn't paralyzed, he checked by wiggling his fingers and toes. The room surrounding him was small, lived in and homie. If his whole body wasn't screaming at him to stay still, he would have gotten up and investigated further. Instead, he craned and turned his head, trying to focus on one of the small pictures that decorated the room. A larger frame sat atop the dresser, next to an old television. Once his eyes adjusted, he saw the picture was of a little girl with long dark-brown hair and a tan complexion.

Her smile was vibrant, reaching her squinting eyes- and infecting the man who was holding her and planting a sweet kiss to her cheek. The man, Asa could recognize from a million miles away- was Arkin. A picture of Arkin holding his daughter. The urge to shoot out of bed and examine the pictures rushed through him- but Asa only managed to flop.*The injured man forces himself to lie down, while his vision darts around the room in the meantime. However, his body hopelessly gave up to fatigue- waiting for, presumably, Arkin to come back. Darkness once more engulfed him, leaving whatever that bumps around the expansive environment outside this room to indicate that he is somewhere safe.

Birds chirped outside, paired with wind blowing between trees, swishing against the window next to the dresser. Asa caught glimpses of other buildings through blinking gaps. He’s in a house or perhaps an apartment- most likely Arkin’s. He’s also possibly in the man’s room too, and this is probably his bed. The thoughts make him squirm.

A million thoughts rush through what's still slowly recovering from his memory. The killer wonders why Arkin even bothered to keep him alive. Part of him is grateful but the rest would rather jump out the window right now, whatever’s left is there to buzz behind his eye sockets and conjure up bile to gather in his dry pharynx.

He hopes Arkin comes back soon.

— — — — — — — — — —

-When Asa woke up again, the first thing he saw was a familiar silhouette setting a bowl of what seemed to be soup down, still steaming. Next to it, was an unopened plastic water bottle, cold with beads of condensation dripping onto the nightstand. Arkin didn't notice the man was awake and watching him, until he turned to leave, only for his voice to reach him

"What are you doing?" Asa asked, his voice low and weak.

It still made Arkin jump- causing him to turn around and see the man staring at him.

"'Bout time y’ woke up," Arkin greeted almost blankly, "How you feel?"

Asa's confusion was palpable, "Why do you care?" He asked.

"Cause I went through a lot of trouble faking your death and bringin' ya here. Would hate havin' you die on me after all that." Arkin shrugged, as if that answered anything.

*Asa remains confused, the other man knows damn well what he was asking about, he just doesn’t want to answer right now- to be honest he hasn't thought of an answer yet. Was it pity? Probably. Arkin can’t decipher the array of emotions he felt that led him to sparing Asa- nor does he want to make sense of them now.

Asa stayed silent, looking at Arkin like a lost child.

“Just eat and stay inside the house. Don’t go anywhere, I’ll be back soon.” A tired and dismissive voice replied into the awkward silence.

He then stepped halfway out the door before an Asa- who’s almost frantically trying to make him stay, spoke up again:

“Where are you going?”

Arkin glances back : “It’s almost 8am. Work.” The door closes once again leaving Asa alone, and confused.

#sanctuary au #collectkin #slasher x final guy #the collector (2009)#the collection (2011)#arkin o'brien #asa emory #slashers #no worries I won't clog the tags- just go on my blog and search “sanctuary au” <3 #collab fic #collab #me and orange screaming into the abyss and making this lol-

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