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alisonsfics · 6 months ago

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knight in shining armor

pairing: carmy berzatto x reader

summary: you knew carmy would do anything for you in theory. when your abusive ex-boyfriend shows up at the bear, you learn carmy has zero hesitations when it comes to protecting you.

word count: 2k

warnings: mentions of abusive ex, violence (very minor and not graphic)

“God, I cannot wait to finally go home.” You groaned to Sydney as you cleaned down your station for the night. It had been an especially rough night at the Bear. “Tell me about it,” she responded, laughing to herself.

Carmy walked by the two of you, catching your attention. “I mean, nevermind, I love it here so much. Please, don’t fire me.” You teased sarcastically, glancing over at Carmy.

His lips curved upwards. He tried to hide the way that your sense of humor always brought a smile to his face. But he wasn’t as discreet as he thought he was.

“Don’t worry. This place couldn’t run without you.” Carmy joked. Sydney glanced between the both of you, noticing the pink tint on Carmy’s cheeks. She had to fight the urge to tell you both to get a room.

“Hey guys, Fak left early. Can one of you guys run this check out to table 13?” Richie called out. You quickly nodded and set down your towel. “Sure, Richie. I can do it.” You volunteered, taking it out of Richie’s hand.

You walked out to the one table with guests left: three men sitting in a corner booth. You heard them all deeply chuckling, fully focused on their conversation.

“Thank you for dining with us tonight. I just wanted to drop this off—” you started to say but froze when your eyes landed on one of the men.

It was your ex-boyfriend Anthony, well not just your ex-boyfriend, your abusive ex-boyfriend.

You felt a shiver run down your spine. His cold dark eyes stared back at you, leaving you with a sense of powerlessness.

The check fell out of your hands and clattered onto the table, hitting the silverware. Your only instinct was to run to safety.

Carmy was your safety. He was the only one you’d ever told about Anthony. He was the only thought in your head. You spun on your heel and headed back towards the kitchen.

You felt like the room was spinning around you. Your hands started shaking. You felt unsteady on your feet, like the ground could be ripped out from under you at any moment.

You stumbled into the kitchen, your anxiety clouding the noise in the room. You saw Carmy and Sydney having a conversation and laughing, but you couldn’t hear any of the words, only mumbles.

You ran to Carmy’s side. He turned to face you with a smile, about to explain whatever he and Sydney were talking about, but he noticed the panic in your eyes.

You breathlessly mumbled the word “Anthony,” hoping it was enough to jog his memory. Carmy furrowed his eyebrows at you, wondering if he’d misheard you.

It’d been years since you told Carmy about Anthony, so the name was far back in his memory.

The kitchen doors slammed open, smacking against the walls. Pots clattered onto the floor, falling off a shelf near the door. You jumped backwards, your heart starting to race.

Anthony stomped into the kitchen, and you could see the recognition in Carmy’s eyes.

Carmy grabbed your wrist and tugged you behind him. You cowered behind Carmy, not able to look at Anthony.

“Get the fuck out of here. I want you out of my fucking restaurant, you piece of shit.” Carmy yelled, snapping his fingers and pointing towards the door.

Sydney walked up next to Carmy, confused by all the chaos. “Yo, what the fuck is going on?” Sydney asked, looking at Carmy for an answer. Sydney’s gaze bounced between the rugged man standing in the doorway and Carmy’s death grip on your hand.

The pit in your stomach felt like it was going to swallow you whole. You kept your eyes focused on the floor, trying to convince yourself it was just a nightmare.

“Get this fuckhead out of here. Nobody lets him in ever again, you hear me? Where the fuck is Richie? Richie?!?” Carmy yelled, as the majority of the staff came walking into the kitchen from the locker room.

The silence of the room rang in your ears. Marcus jogged up next to you and Carmy. He’d immediately recognized the panic in your face and rushed to help.

Anthony lurched forward, attempting to grab your hand away from Carmy.

Carmy used his free hand to slap him away. “You don’t get to fucking touch her. You will leave her the fuck alone.” Carmy screamed. His face was bright red, his jaw clenched. Carmy was a fiercely loyal guy, but it was to an even higher degree when it was you.

It was only then that Anthony spoke. His words ran through your chest, making all your muscles feel tight. “You really have this little fucker whipped for you. Little manipulative bitch at it again.” Anthony yelled. His words seemed to hang in the air.

You got up the courage to look over Carmy’s shoulder, and you saw Anthony staring back at you.

Then, he turned his attention to Carmy. “Hey, short stuff, unless you’re her little boyfriend, I suggest you stay out of this conversation. It’s frankly none of your business.” He spoke, and Carmy’s grip on your wrist tightened.

“Come on, sweetheart. Let’s go talk.” Anthony said, holding his hand out to you.

Carmy moved his hand to the small of your back and nudged you to stand behind Sydney. She wrapped her arm around your back, holding you close to her as Carmy stepped towards Anthony.

“Listen up, you bastard. She’s not going anywhere with you, and if I ever see you within a block of my restaurant again, I’ll kick your ass.” Carmy threatened.

You realized what he was doing. He was doing everything in his power to keep Anthony’s attention off of you.

It didn’t work. Anthony ignored Carmy and continued staring at you. “You got yourself a little boy toy here? He acts like your fucking protector and savior, and in return, what? You let him fuck you every now and then? Trust me, dickhead, the sex isn’t that good. You can find better. Nobody needs a little slut like her.” Anthony scoffed down at Carmy.

Anthony smirked, when he saw Carmy clench his jaw.

Before you could even process what Anthony said, Carmy punched him in the face, and Anthony fell back against the wall.

Richie finally emerged from the back door after Tina had gone to get him. “I wouldn’t recommend that.” Richie said, pulling the gun out of his waistband before Anthony could jump towards Carmy.

Richie wouldn’t use it, but Anthony didn’t know that.

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant.” Carmy snapped as Anthony ran towards the front door and his friends ran after him.

Carmy spun on his heel and pulled you into his arms. He cradled your body, comfortingly running his hands up and down your back. “It’s okay. It’s okay. He’s gone.” He whispered in your ear.

The room was silent as everyone processed what’d just happened.

“Richie, can you give us a ride back to my place? She can stay on my couch tonight.” Carmy asked softly.

Richie quickly nodded and grabbed his car keys as you both followed him to the car.

Carmy sat in the backseat with you, keeping your hand tightly in his. He was the best friend you’d ever had. He cared about you more than he could explain, which was partially due to his unconfessed feelings.

You didn’t utter a single word on the drive to Carmy’s apartment. Carmy quickly thanked Richie for the ride as he brought you upstairs. He was very aware of the glossy look in your eyes. He recognized and understood the trauma response better than anyone.

He held the front door open for you, keeping his hand protectively on the small of your back. “You want me to start the shower for you?” He asked you softly. You gave him a weak nod and followed him through his bedroom.

You waited silently as he set out a towel and everything you needed. “I’ll order some dinner while you take a shower, okay? Let me know if you need anything.” He said, giving your shoulder a soft squeeze.

You stayed in the shower extra long, letting the hot water run over you. You’d felt grimy since Anthony looked at you, so you hoped you could wash off the feeling.

You finally got out of the shower and dried yourself. You slipped your bra and underwear back on and caught a glimpse of yourself in the mirror.

You don’t know what about it set you off. Maybe it was the defeated look in your eyes staring back at you. You felt like you were in the past again. You’d spent so many hours staring in the mirror at bruises Anthony had left on you. All the memories you’d forced into a box were spilling out.

You sunk down to the floor, cradling your legs in your chest. The tears poured out of you, and your whole body shook.

Carmy glanced down at his phone, realizing it’d been a while since he heard the water turn off. He cautiously walked over to the bathroom and softly hit his knuckles against the wooden door. “You doing okay?” He mumbled through the door.

You tried to respond but no words would come out. Your muscles stayed rigid, no matter how much you wanted to stand and open the door.

Carmy opened the door a crack, making sure you were okay.

He saw you curled up on the floor with splotchy cheeks and watery eyes. He felt his heart break. He quickly rushed towards you and picked you up bridal style off the ground.

You normally would have been self-conscious of Carmy seeing you in your underwear, but you were so detached that you almost didn’t notice.

Carmy’s eyes didn’t linger anywhere that wasn’t your eyes. He set you down on the side of his bed, and then quickly grabbed some clothes out of his dresser.

He lifted your hands up in the air and slipped one of his sweatshirts over your head. He grabbed the matching pair of sweatpants and slid your feet through the leg holes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck, as he helped you stand, so he could pull the sweatpants up to your waist and tie the strings.

You stayed completely still, still clinging to him. He wrapped his arms protectively around your waist. “You hungry?” He whispered. You simply shook your head.

“C’mere,” he said, guiding to his bed where he pulled back the covers for you to climb in. He crawled in to sit next to you. He turned on the tv and put on one of your comfort shows.

You leaned over, resting your head on his shoulder. He smiled down at you, running his fingers through your hair.

He didn’t know what to say. There was nothing he could say to fix this.

“Carmy?” You said, your voice coming out weak and fragile.

“Yeah, honey? What’s wrong?” He asked. He’d never called you a pet name before, but it just slipped out. “What if he comes back?” You croaked, your voice cracking.

He pressed a kiss against your temple. “He won’t come back, but if he did, I would keep you safe again. I promise, okay?” He assured you. He waited for you to respond and saw you fighting back tears.

“You risked your life for me. I don’t know how to thank you.” You mumbled, unable to meet his gaze.

He quickly shook his head, dismissing it. “You don’t need to thank me. I'd do anything for you.” He said.

Carmy was in disbelief that he’d actually been able to admit that after all these years. You paused and looked up at him, picking your head up off his shoulder.

You softly placed your hand on his face, cupping his cheek. His eyes glanced down at your lips.

You were worried he’d hear how fast your heart was beating as you leaned in and pressed your lips against his. He kissed you back gently, with a delicateness you’d never seen from him.

He rested his hand on your hip. You felt weightless when his lips were on yours.

You both pulled away slowly. You searched his eyes for any sign of regret. All you saw was the giant smile on his face. “I’ve been waiting a long time to do that.” He said, pressing a kiss to your temple.

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narnian-neverlander · 7 months ago

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What Could’ve Been [Viktor x GN!Reader]

Plot Summary: In which you find yourself in a world so similar yet so different to your own and are simply too tired of life knocking you down again and again to still play the selfless hero.

Word Count: 3,9k

Warnings: spoilers for Arcane Season 2, talk about character death and illness, suicidal thoughts, slightly suggestive at the end

A/N: I saw that alternate timeline and went ‘Ekko’s a stronger man than I am’ and went with that; actually wanted to write sth fluffy and happy, and this is wholesome-ish, but with some very bleak undertones so I might have to write some actual fluff to compensate. Also, the religious imagery wasn’t planned from the get go but it kinda happened and it is on brand for this man, I just decided to turn it on its head a little 🤷

I’m also very much using a translator for the Czech parts, so please bear with me and absolutely lemme know if you spot anything wrong!

“Interesting. When I told you about this last, you advised the exact opposite.”

You freeze mid movement, plate hovering an inch or so over the table you were setting. “Well I… I suppose I’ve changed my mind.”

The soft tap of a cane against the floor alerts you to him crossing the room, appearing in your peripheral as you put down the porcelain with shaky fingers. “A rather… hm, siginificant change in such a short time, wouldn’t you agree? Not to mention you acted like I was telling you for the first time.” He doesn’t receive an answer, so he keeps going. “I’ve had a theory for a while. I don’t believe I’ve told you about it, because really, it’s only a pipe dream at this point, but entertaining for the duller moments nonetheless: alternate timelines. The possibility of several different realities, all co-existing with each other simultaneously. Some would call the mere idea preposterous, I’m fully aware, but then again, how would we know for certain? How could we know? Unless one or more of said timelines happened to… overlap.” The silence that follows is deafening and heavy; a precursor of what’s to come. “You’re not originally from this world, are you?”

While he knows this is a conversation that needs to be had, the way you curl into yourself and seem to wither and grow small before his eyes makes him wish he could take it all back. He tries to catch your gaze, but you purposely avoid his as you drag yourself over to the couch. Body heavy and tired, you all but slump down into worn cushions, blankly staring into space as you weakly reply with “No. I’m not.”

He doesn’t move, nor does he speak, cause while he’d been expecting your answer to a degree, now that it’s out in the open he’s… unsure what to even do with it. It isn’t a worry for long, though, as you continue speaking, slow and weary. Like you had been expecting, dreading, this moment just as much as him.

“It wasn’t a… conscious choice. To come here, I mean. It was an accident really, I didn’t even know what had happened at first.” A weak chuckle. “This was a shock to me as much as it must’ve been for you.”

And what a shock it had been for you. To have been standing with your friends in the bowels of the Hexgates one minute and to wake up in an unfamiliar bed the next. Dizzily traipsing through a space that had felt familiar yet foreign all at once; pictures and mementos from times you couldn’t remember staring at you from every surface. And to have had Viktor come through the door, bag of baked goods under one arm, to find you in the living room of what should’ve been your home, looking every bit as lost as you felt. It had been a miracle you’d stayed standing then and there, with the way he’d looked: same lanky figure supported by a cane, same messy chestnut locks, same two beauty marks against the pale skin of his sharp face, same concern in his honey colored irises when he took in your state. But no dark circles borderlining bruises under his eyes, no hollowed, sunken in cheeks, no blood on his lips to betray another attack. And no Hexcore devouring him whole. Your downfall had come in the form of slender fingers gingerly wrapping around your forearm to try and steady you; a silent question and a gentle offer of help. One of those fingers wearing the very same ring you usually kept on a chain around your neck, because you’d always been too busy or too in your own head to just ask him. To offer him your heart, your life, your everything, if only he wanted it. Always too terrified of rejection, of losing him to his illness; too scared of fucking something until it was too late. And when your hand had come up in search for said necklace, a nervous habit that had developed at some point, and you’d found a matching ring on your own finger instead, you’d finally dissolved into a wailing, sobbing mess against his chest, never wanting to let go again.

And what a shock it had been for him. To have talked to you, not twenty minutes prior, an exchange of sleepy, lazy kisses and quiet murmurs, telling you he’d go get breakfast and be right back, watching as you’d curled back up under the blankets with a content sigh. To come through the door, expecting you still in bed and instead finding you in the middle of your living room, looking utterly lost and misplaced in your own home, an almost manic look in your eyes, staring at him like you’d seen a ghost. He’d approached you, carefully, like one would a wild caged animal, and then a simple touch of his had sent you into a meltdown. And at an absolute loss, he’d simply held you. Let you cry yourself to utter exhaustion in his arms, the both of you a heap on the floor, propped up against the back of the sofa. When you had finally, finally calmed down, you’d played it off as the aftershocks of a nightmare. The kind that makes you believe they’re real and keeps you trapped in them for what could feel like a lifetime. And Gods you’d looked like you had aged a lifetime while he was gone. And ever since that night you’d been… different. Getting lost in your own head more often than not. Suffering from nightmares almost every night. Migraines and something akin to epileptic seizures every once in a good while. He had let it go on, assuring you that if you needed anything he would be there for you, and in the following months, you’d seemed to settle and things had gone back to normal. Relatively. But it had been the memory loss that had made him suspicious. Or more so the fact that while some things remained, others seemed to have happened differently for you and some had never happened at all. Never having been able to leave well enough alone, he’d started digging for explanations. And now, at the end of his research, his most impossible theory proven right - he’s yet again at a loss of what to do. How to help you.

“I didn’t know how I got here, much less how to get back. From what I do understand about all of this, and it ain’t much, the thing that sent me to this world doesn’t even exist here. So at first I didn’t have much of a choice but to just… live. To pretend like everything was normal and I belonged here. But eventually I realized that even if I got the chance to go back, I didn’t want to. I wanted to be selfish, I wanted—“ Your voice cracks, thick with emotion and he watches your head drop forward like a doll’s whose strings have been cut, eyes downcast at your trembling hands. “I wanted to be happy again. And for once in my damn life I wanted it to last. It just never fucking lasts…”

Stride over to you and hold you tight, kiss you and tell you that everything would be alright, that you would figure this out together, like always. That’s what he should be doing. Every bone in his body tells him to, but just like so many other times in the past, his oh so brilliant mind prevents him. Tells him that there is no ‘together, like always’ because the person in front of him isn’t the person he’s known his whole life. Isn’t the person he married. Everything’s an ugly mess and he doesn’t mean for his next words to come across as cruel, doesn’t perceive them that way; blissfully unaware of the implications, he’s simply, truly curious.

“What would you do if you were to go back home?”

An inelegant snort leaves you and you wipe the back of your hand over your eyes in a desperate and vain attempt to stop the tears from flowing.

23 seconds.

You were counting, just to give you something to occupy your spiraling mind with, really.

23 seconds.

That’s how long it had taken him to no longer refer to this world, this apartment, him as your home. To prioritize whatever might be going in your other life. And you know it’s not fair, to be this upset with him, this version of him that you’ve been deceiving from the start; even though he has never wronged you. But you can’t help it. Guilt and regret would soon be all you’d have left again, so might as well leave him with some, too.

“Well… if I hadn’t gotten sucked into this mess, I would’ve killed myself by now. I guess I’d be getting back to that.”

The breath that escapes him sounds like you actually just sucker punched him in the gut and immediately makes you feel terrible about how casual and bitter you’d made it sound, but he’d wanted the truth and that was it. Limbs heavy und unsteady, you rise from your position on the couch and make your way over to the front door. “I’ll go take a walk or… you know, go do… whatever. Give you some space, time to think.” Your hand’s already on the door handle, but you pause and somehow find it in yourself to turn around and at least give him the courtesy of looking at him for what you’re about to say. “For what it’s worth, I never meant to let it go this far. It just became so… easy to pretend like things had always been like this. You made it easy. And while I’m sorry that I lied to you, tricked you, intentional or not, I got the chance to fall in love with you all over again. And I could never be sorry about that.”

You’re fairly certain you’ve never seen him move as fast as he does now and before you know it, you’re wrapped in a hug almost too tight, his cane landing on the carpeted floor next to you with a dull thump. “You cannot say things like that and expect me to just let you walk out of that door, I-“

Readjusting his hold on you, he cradles your head against his shoulder and loops his other arm around your middle, continuing in a hushed, gentle tone. “I can’t bear the thought of harm befalling you. Even worse, you harming yourself. In any timeline. Please, just stay. No matter what might happen in the future, just… stay with me. Right here.”

He means for it to be reassuring, comforting, loving, you know that. It’s not his fault that it has the exact opposite effect.

Wincing, a new wave of tears springs to your eyes and you remove yourself from his hold, but can’t bring yourself to let go completely; hands now linked between the two of you. “Viktor, I stole the body and life of a person you actually love. I don’t want you to force yourself to try and love me out of pity.”

“And why are you so certain that’s what this is?!” It surprises you, how genuinely upset he sounds, and a gasp is forced out of your throat when he wrenches his hands out of your grasp and his palms find your face, to force your gaze onto him and keep it there, wether you want to or not. The expression he’s wearing almost scares you; thick brows furrowed in anger and lips curled back in what could nearly be a snarl, but as soon as gold eyes find yours, red and puffy and so very desperate and grieving, whatever fire seemed to have been burning him up inside goes out all at once.

His shoulders drop and he rests his forehead against yours with a sigh, warm breath fanning over your face. “I’m sorry, moje lásko, please forgive me. I’m not angry with you, I just… I can not comprehend why you are so ready and willing to accept rejection, but will not even entertain the possibility that loving you comes as easy to me as your affections for me do to you. Why can you love every version of me, but I’m not allowed the same with every version of you?” He watches you blink owlishly, your mouth opening and closing several times and he’s not sure wether it’s endearing or heartbreaking, how clear it is that this possibility never even crossed your mind. “You act like this entire situation only penalizes me, when in reality, I’m not actually your Viktor, either, am I?”

He expects this to help, to give you a new perspective. To make it clear to you that you are both the same; you are not a villain in his story. And there is a smile on your lips, but it’s so small and sad that his stomach drops at the sight. “No, you’re not. You couldn’t be. My Viktor is gone.”

And all of a sudden, it makes so much sense. How sometimes you’d stare at him with the most haunted look in your eyes, like he was a dead man walking, ready to collapse at any given moment. How you’d grow frantic when he came back late from the academy. How you’d insisted on tagging along on the most mundane of tasks, always under the guise of wanting to spend more time with him, but really just keeping a close eye on him at all times. Though he suspects the former to be true; the chance to spend even a few more precious hours with a loved one you’d thought lost, who wouldn’t jump at that chance?

His world would simply seize spinning if you were no longer in it, he can’t even begin to imagine how you feel. How tormenting it must’ve been to see him everyday, a second chance dangling right in front of you, but never certain if you were to wake up back in a world where he was gone.

You’re in his arms again in a heartbeat, one hand carding through your hair, the other rubbing soothing patterns into your back; whispering sweet little nothings into your ear as you bury your face into the crook of his neck and sob. All so much like the day you arrived and saw him for the first time, and yet… softer. More intimate.

You stay like this until your bawling dies down to whimpers and sniffles at which point he gingerly coaxes you to look at him.

“Miláčku, listen to me. As it stands now, you have no way of going back to your original world.” He doesn’t call it your home anymore, you notice. “You did not ask for this, you did not choose this; you had it thrust upon you while going through enough pain and grief you considered taking your own life. For the love of everything, you needn’t feel guilty for wanting to use this chance to find happiness again. And you shouldn’t feel guilty if you continue to do so.” Still sniffling you gently caress his face, thumbs running over his chiseled cheekbones and heart stuttering when he leans into your touch. But then you catch sight of the ring on your finger again.

“I’m not… I’m not the person you married, Vik.” Unknowingly, you parrot his own thoughts back to him, but surprisingly enough, he finds he doesn’t much care anymore. He’s flabbergasted how he could ever even doubt for a second that it would matter which timeline you were originally from. Because it’s still you. Damn it all, it’s still you. “Maybe so. But I’ve seen the same kindness in you in those past few months that I’ve always known. The same wit. The same ambition and passion. All the things that made me love you in the first place. You said this gave you the chance to fall in love with me again; would you allow me the chance to do the same?”

The truth is, while you want to try and build a life here, you feel guilty. Guilty about the friends you left fighting a war. Guilty about taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. Guilty about forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. All these months, you’d only ever reciprocated his affections, never initiated them, had barely let him touch you at all, because you’d always felt like somehow you were coercing him into cheating on someone he actually loved. But here he is now, telling you that he wants you, this version of you, all of you. Could you really do it? Leave behind everything and everyone you’ve ever known, for a chance at happiness, a fresh start? You had no guarantee that things would go smoothly in this universe either, after all. Wouldn’t you just be playing pretend for the rest of your life?

“So what, we’ll just… pretend like it’s the first time then?” you ask, a quiet breathless laugh accompanying your question. He shrugs and smiles at you. “Something like that. Falling in love with you again and again and again? I could imagine a worse fate.”

So could you. Much, much worse, in fact.

Your expression shifts somewhat without you even realizing and he immediately recognizes that he must’ve triggered some form of painful memory. He places tiny little kisses all over your face, murmuring apologies all the while and when you sigh in contentment it finally dawns on him that this is very much the first time you’ve let yourself enjoy being close with him since you got here. He doesn’t blame you; the moral dilemma that was forced on you would put anyone on edge and make them anxious about what they could allow themselves to experience without some form of consequences. He would prove to you that there would be none, he’d make sure of that; singlehandedly destroy them if they did decide to raise their ugly heads. That you didn’t always need to give and give and ask for nothing in return. That you could take what you wanted and not be punished for it. You’d taught him that after all.

“Moje světlo…?”

Gods have mercy on your soul, you never could say no to him when he used those damn pet names on you.

You crash your lips to his, desperate and practically starved; in direct contrast to all the sweet promises and gentle reassurances you just shared, there’s nothing romantic about it. It’s all tongues and teeth and absolutely filthy and it’s exactly what you need right now. Your back makes contact with the door you’d been oh so insistent on walking out of not even fifteen minutes ago, that thought now the furthest thing from your mind as his hands are already under your shirt, leaving goosebumps in their wake.

Your head falls back against the worn wood with a thump as his lips find your neck, leaving marks and bruises for everyone to see and maybe the moan that escapes your throat with a broken version of his name coupled with how weak your knees already feel could’ve been embarrassing, but you don’t have it in yourself to care; it feels like it’s been years since he last kissed you like this. Touched you like this. The whine of protest as he pulls back is cut short when he drops to his knees in front of you, hands on your hips to keep you in place and placing on last kiss on your stomach before he puts some distance between you both, not more than a few inches really, but still too much for your liking. One hand goes to cover his own, while the other cups his face, trying to tug him closer again, but he refuses. Brows knitting together in confusion and frustration, you’re about to ask him what he thinks he’s doing, but he beats you to it.

“I won’t go further unless you tell me you want this.” You almost laugh, because he can not be serious. How much more obvious could you be? Your own body is doing half the talking for you, really. But of course that’s not exactly what he means. “I want you to admit to me, and more importantly to yourself, that you want this life. I want you to realize that it is perfectly alright for you to be selfish every now and again.”

His words trigger a memory from long ago, when you’d found him passed out on the desk in the lab one too many times. After you’d been done yelling at him, you’d told him that he couldn’t just always give and give and give until there was barely anything left of himself. That it was okay to be a little selfish and take things for himself every once in a while.

Take your own advice, liar.

A voice somewhere in the back of your head purrs bewitchingly and it’s right. You are still lying. Not to him though - to yourself. Telling yourself that you feel guilty for wanting to stay here, when in reality that’s how you should be feeling. But the truth, the real truth, is that you’re scared.

Scared of how little you actually care. About the friends you left fighting a war. About taking over the life and joy of someone else, even if they are a different version of you. About forcing the man you love into a relationship with a person he technically doesn’t even know. You haven’t truly cared about any of it from the get go; always too self righteous to admit it to yourself, though.

Practiced fingers slip from his cheek to the hair at the nape his neck and pull; he goes along willingly this time, head forced back and his eyes lock onto yours, right as fresh, hot tears start to travel down your face. But you’re done grieving; you are livid, plain and simple. “I want this…” you breathe out, so quiet he almost misses it. You don’t stay quiet, though, you can’t anymore, and your voice rises in volume with every sentence spoken. “I want to stay. I want a life with you. All blissful boredom and domesticity. It’s all I ever wanted. Why…? Why was even that too much to ask?!”

He doesn’t have the answer, but he does have the solution, delivered with a slight turn of his head and a kiss to your wrist.

“It wasn’t. It isn’t.”

Breaths heavy and irregular, you simply take in the sight of him: all disheveled hair and kiss swollen lips, pretty blush all the way down to his neck, eyes dark and pupils blown wide, only a thin ring of gold left, looking at you so longingly, on his knees for you and you alone; like a worshipper ready to commit any atrocity for the sake and love of their god.

“You can take what you want, anděli. No one will punish you for it. I won’t let them.”

Angel. Oh, the irony. Irony turned certainty. Certainty turned reality.

So take you would. And you wouldn’t bother looking back at the things you’d left behind.

#arcane viktor x reader #hurt/comfort #arcane #gender neutral reader #viktor x reader #arcane x reader #arcane imagine #viktor arcane #league of legends #arcane season 2 #pretend like it's the first time

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itoshirinnn · 2 months ago

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thinking

about how when shamura says bonds (chains) must be forged in godly matters they refer to both the bishops' blood but also narinder's. look at his robes, the red in the middle that starts at his throat and trails down, as if his throat had been cut not necessarily to kill but to make him bleed as much as possible

in the game, the god of death cannot die. the only time the player is in actual risk of "dying" (permadeleting a save file) is when they have 0 followers for two days. the solution to this is to recuit TWO followers minimum. guess who narinder has by his side in the afterlife.

TWO followers, given to him by shamura. they said they didn't want narinder to be lonely. But exactly why would narinder be lonely if he was "swelling with devotion" ? and forneus never says when her kits were taken, just that they were a gift to "the one they loved the most." by "they" it is heavily implied that she's referring to shamura. still, I don't think shamura meant to gift them to narinder out of malice. i truly think he did not wish for him to be lonely.

now, what does narinder say about baal and aym?

intended as KEEPERS??? why would narinder interpret them as keepers, if they were gifted to him before he was imprisoned? maybe he thought shamura was distrustful of him from the start. but even then, if they were already his loyal followers by that point, why wouldn't they be chained? they're completely free to move. Not to mention, look at their eyes. reminds you of something??

DISSENTING FOLLOWERS. all four bishops and their respective minibosses have black scleras and red irises. the only characters / enemies who have similar eyes to baal and aym are the witnesses, that I theorize are old enemies sealed away by the bishops that rise after the death of their capturer. (and barbatos but like. they're the only miniboss who has those eyes so I don't count them) Maybe shamura sent them to narinder under the guise of "keepers," knowing that narinder would guide them. Notice what he says. "Must I be blamed for my influence?"

Narinder says it was here that they cast the chains that bound him (ignore kallamar's joy I have no clue why he's so happy here?) meaning it's here that they probably fought. The monument says the same. "Here did death no longer wish to wait." this obviously refers to narinder. The one who waits could no longer bear to wait, and he put his and the other bishop's reigns in peril trying to expand his domain. shamura feared narinder would grow too greedy and held a council of war with the others.

Narinder struck at them, supposedly second. They knowingly attempted to kill (bound) their brother, just like cain and abel, and were punished for it. See no evil, speak no evil, hear no evil, think no evil. narinder was punished too, relegated to the afterlife, destined to be forgotten, to rot. my theory is that shamura gave him baal and aym afterward. they loved him the most, to the point where their brother being forgotten, truly dying, was so unbearable that they gifted him two young followers under the guise of "keepers."

also think about kallamar and how he can't bear to see narinder. We know that kallamar is the second oldest, and that he's aware of his cowardice.

"... of course, it could not last forever. Perhaps my siblings did not understand this, but I have always known."

"It did not make me less afraid. Cowardly Kallamar, ha..."

"So many things I did not wish to hear... Narinder's foolish plans."

"When Shamura told us what we must do to ensure our survival... I did not wish to hear that, either."

"And yet I was a willing conspirator. Cowardly Kallamar."

shamura tells us this.

I think shamura set aside their fear of losing their brother and the love they held for him, to save themselves and their other siblings in case narinder betrayed them. kallamar did not. he was cowardly, he did not wish to hear narinder's heresy or shamura's plans, even knowing their happiness would not last.

side note, narinder's speeches to you after beating each bishop are the longest when he talks about kallamar and shamura. This could also be because he knows the lamb for longer at that point, but I do truly think that he couldn't bear to resent his youngest siblings enough to blatantly insult them like how did to kallamar and shamura.

not to mention heket's dialogue. she blames the red crown, never her older brother. when she does refer to him, she calls him a monster who will not be satisfied until all four of them are felled. she never names him. she grieves, laments about how they were happy once, all together.

narinder's dialogue about leshy is the shortest. maybe it's because they didn't know each other well, since leshy was so young, but leshy is directly stated to not have known about the plan, at least not completely. I don't think narinder resents him as much as the other because of that. leshy even calls the lamb an unworthy bearer of the crown. he doesn't insult narinder, he simply calls him "the chained one."

shamura deems you an unworthy bearer of the crown if you bow to them: "I am disappointed, I admit. I thought my brother had better… taste."

if you do not bow: "A lion in the guise of a Lamb. I expected no less from a vessel of the Red Crown. Very well. War is also my domain."

shamura is also the most outwardly resentful of mortals. "He wanted to open the doors between Life and Death, to... to allow their return. Those mere... mortals." they were the oldest, but also the most prideful, even more so than heket, who is the only other bishop who commands you to bow, and has similar dialogue to shamura. but if you do not bow, she does not compliment you like shamura does, instead she demands you to bow again, which shows her immaturity.

if you bow: "Ha! Cowardly vermin. You disgust me." if you do not bow: "You will bow, or I will make you!"

another side note about heket:

"There is no justice in this world."

"No matter how... how loudly you demand... urge... beg..."

she tells you this after you give her relic back. this is purely headcanoning now, but perhaps she had her throat torn out by narinder because he could not bear to hear her beg.

TL;DR: narinder was so, so loved. my doomed siblings 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

#cult of the lamb #cotl #cotl narinder #cult of the lamb narinder #narinder #cotl theory #cotl aym #cotl baal #cotl bishops #cotl shamura #cotl the one who waits #cotl heket #cotl leshy #cotl headcanons

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riboism · 4 months ago

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frankenstein

》 pairing: frankenstein! s.mg x mortician! fem reader

》 wc: 4.0k

》 plot: in the wake of her husband’s tragic death, a grieving woman defies nature itself to bring him back. but the man she resurrects is not the same one she lost. his memories are wiped, his mind fragile, his body stitched together by her own desperate hands. as he relearns the world through her guidance, he begins to question the life she has confined him to and the strangeness of his appearance, unaware of the terrible truth she cannot bear to tell him.

》 content tags: frankenstein! mingi, mortuary school student! reader, story takes place in the 1800s, reader is low key manipulative but it’s okay because she’s still in grief, insecure mingi MY SHAAYYLAAA, smut, oneshot, angst, subby bby mingi, body worship, blowjob, riding, multiple orgasms, creampie, very sweet love making :(, this is for the REAL freaks, morally gray area warning, mentions of scars and stitches, this is heavily inspired by the movie Poor Things (2023).

》 song: frankenstein by rina sawayama

You were itching to go home. The streets were quiet, the cool night air nipping at your skin as you hurried along the cobbled path. But it wasn’t the cold winds that urged your hurried steps; You worried about Mingi. You knew he didn’t like it when you were away from him for too long. He’d grow lonely and bored, and each time you returned home late, you would find him sulking in your room, curled up in the corner, his silence like a quiet punishment. He never voiced his grievances out loud, but his sulking made his feelings clear.

Perhaps you had only yourself to blame. You spent too many hours in the library at the university, fingers ink-stained as you skimmed over anatomy texts and alchemical treatises. You should have been home with him, tending to the life you had so desperately clawed back from the grave.

At last, you reached the old manor. Fumbling with the iron key, you locked each of the heavy bolts behind you, securing the house as if the world itself might try to pry open the secrets hidden within. The wooden stairs creaked beneath your hurried steps as you made your way upstairs.

“Miiingii,” you called in a playful tone as you pushed open the door to your bedroom.

You found him lying on the bed, facing away from you. His back was stiff like a wall shutting you out.

“Mingi?” you tried again, softer this time. You crossed the room, settling onto the bed beside him. The mattress dipped under your weight, but he didn’t stir. Your fingers wove into his silky, dark strands, still holding on to the scent of lavender oil from the rinse you had given him the night before.

“I’m home,” you whispered.

You waited for him to turn toward you, but his body remained still.

You leaned closer, brushing your lips over his ear. “Dear, what’s wrong? Look, I brought you something special.” You rattled the small paper-wrapped bundle in your hands. “Figs, fresh from the market.”

His only response was a slow, quiet sigh.

You scooted even closer, resting your chin lightly on his shoulder. “Won’t you let me see you?” You pouted. “I missed you all day. You used to meet me at the door before I could even set down my books.”

Before, he would pull you into his arms the moment you stepped inside, clinging to you as if afraid you might vanish. His unrestrained affection had been overwhelming at times, but now, you almost longed for it. Now, he was different. More withdrawn. More aware. It almost scared you.

This wasn’t the Mingi you had first fallen in love with. That Mingi had been strong, independent, a force of nature. He was your guardian angel, your protector, the one who made you feel safe and loved in a cruel, heartless world. When he was taken from you, the emptiness was unbearable. Life without him was an unfathomable reality you refused to accept.

In your grief, you buried yourself in your books, drowning in theories, alchemical formulas, and desperate calculations that defied both God and nature. You searched for a way—any way—to bring him back. And in the end, you succeeded. But what returned wasn’t truly Mingi.

His body was whole, his limbs moved as they once had, but the man you knew was gone. His memories had been erased, his mind an empty slate, his gaze void of any recognition. He was like a newborn, unable to walk, to speak, to feed himself. And so, you taught him. Day by day, step by step, you guided him through life once more, as if he had been born again.

He clung to you and depended on you for everything. It was exhausting at times, but every time he looked at you, something inside you softened. He was here. He was with you. That was all that mattered. Or so you thought.

Now, looking back, you realize how much simpler things had been when he was still learning, when his world revolved only around you. He was different now. He had grown. He devoured your books, and pored over your notes, his mind hungry for knowledge. With every page he turned, every lesson he absorbed, he grew more aware. His mind was sharp, restless, and full of thoughts and questions. Questions you couldn’t bring yourself to answer.

Who was he?

What had happened to him?

Why wouldn’t you let him leave the manor?

You knew the truth was closing in. Soon, he would figure it out. But still, you tried to keep it from him for as long as you could. Because once he knew, you’d lose him forever.

You leaned in closer, nuzzling into the curve of his shoulder and neck. “Please say something,” You whined into his cool skin. “You’re making me sad.”

For a moment, he laid still, not letting your words tempt him. But soon, he gave in to your whines, sighing deeply before shifting onto his back.

You smiled, relief washing over you as you looked at him. Even now, with shadows cast across his face from the flickering gaslight, his features brought you warmth, chasing away the cold that bit at you all night.

“There you are,” you said softly, brushing a strand of hair from his forehead before pressing a tender kiss to his lips. Mingi lay motionless, his eyes wide open, lips refusing to move with yours. You pulled away slightly, your brows drawing together. “What’s the matter?”

Mingi lowered his eyes, hiding from your gaze. “You said you’d be back before sunset. It’s past eleven.”

Your shoulders sagged, guilt settling heavily in your chest. You reached for his hand, but he didn’t take it.

“Oh, love, I’m sorry,” you murmured, your voice soft with regret. “Professor kept me longer than I expected. He needed my help with a post-mortem examination, an elderly man. His family wanted a full report before burial. By the time we were finished, I rushed to the library to work on my essay. I didn’t mean to stay out so late.”

Mingi said nothing, but the way his jaw tensed told you he was still upset. His fingers idly twisted at the hem of the blanket, his mind working through his thoughts.

You placed your fingers under his chin, tilting his face toward you, forcing him to meet your eyes. “I’m sorry, my love” you whispered, sincerely. “Please don’t be upset.”

His lips parted slightly, hesitating as if the words were too difficult to push out. Finally, he spoke.

“Why don’t you let me come with you to your lectures?”

Your heart clenched. You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself. “Mingi, we went over this—”

“I feel so lonely in this big, empty house,” he interrupted, his voice quieter now, but still laced with frustration. “Why can’t we at least take a stroll outside? Just once?”

You hesitated. The room was so quiet you could hear the soft creaking of the wooden beams overhead, the wind whispering through the cracks in the window.

He faced you now, his eyes dark and full with a heavy sadness. “Are you that ashamed of me?”

He spoke so quietly, yet his words struck you harder than any shout ever could. You steadied yourself as you spoke. “Ashamed of you?” You asked. “Why on Earth would I be ashamed of you, Mingi?”

“Because I’m a hideous monster!” he roared, his voice breaking. “My complexion is pale and gray, my body stitched together like some grotesque experiment gone wrong! I look like the creatures in those horrible Brothers Grimm tales!” He panted, his chest rising and falling unevenly. His gaze met yours, filled with raw, agonizing pain. “You’re ashamed to be seen with me. That’s why you keep me locked in here. Just admit it!”

Before you could reach for him, he shoved himself upright, his sudden movement forcing you back. His shoulders shook as he sucked in a ragged breath, but it did little to steady him. He turned away, his back to you, his head bowed as his body shuddered with suppressed sobs.

A hollow ache carved into your chest. You had seen him in so many states—curiosity, fascination, confusion, frustration—but never like this. Never so broken and angry.

You pushed yourself up, the bed frame creaking beneath you as you rose to your feet. Slowly, you tip-toed around the bed carefully, afraid he might flinch away. But he didn’t. He remained still, his head hanging low, shoulders trembling with each uneven breath.

Gently, you cupped his face in your hands, your thumbs brushing against his cold cheeks. His lashes, dark and wet with tears, fluttered as he hesitantly lifted his gaze to meet yours.

Your heart sank. “Oh, Mingi,” you whispered, the words carrying all the tenderness you could muster. “You are no monster.”

His lips parted, but no words came at first. He swallowed hard, his breath warm and shallow against your fingers.

“Yeah? Then what am I?” He asked in a low voice.

You held him tighter as if your grip alone could hold him together and ease the ache buried deep within him.

“You are my greatest love,” you said, your thumbs tracing slow, soothing circles against his skin. “My beating heart. My light, my darkness. My gentle giant.” You leaned in, your forehead resting against his, your breath mixing with his own. “My most beautiful creation.”

His lips quivered, his brows drawing together as more tears spilled down his cheeks. He searched your face as if trying to find some hidden deception in your words, but there was none. Only love.

“That’s why I have to keep you here,” You explained, your fingers ghosting over his cheek, tracing the faint lines of stitches that held him together. “You’re far too precious to me. What would I do with myself if you were to wander outside and hurt yourself, hmm?”

Your voice was gentle, but firm. A careful balance of love and control. “The world out there is dangerous and unpredictable. People wouldn’t understand you the way I do. They wouldn’t see you the way I do. But here… here, I can keep you safe. I can protect you. I can’t ever lose you, Mingi. You understand?”

The thought of you suffering because of him was far worse than any pain he could endure himself. He never wanted you to be hurting. His loneliness, his longing for the outside world, meant nothing if it meant keeping you safe. If staying within these walls was the price to keep you happy, then he would pay it willingly, again and again.

You felt his resistance softening, the tension in his shoulders easing beneath your touch. He nodded his head eagerly, convincing you that he understood. Yes, you were only protecting him. And where else would he need to be than be here with you?

Mingi buried his face into your chest, his breath warm against the fabric of your dress. His arms wrapped around you, desperately clinging onto you as if you might slip away on account of his emotional outburst.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, his voice small and fragile. “I just… I look at myself, and I worry that I’m not enough for you.” His words muffled in the soft folds of your clothing.

You sighed, your fingers weaving through his dark hair, stroking it gently. You had known for some time that he struggled with his appearance. How he would glance at the mirror only to turn away, jaw tightening, shoulders slumping under the weight of his self-loathing.

It felt like a cruel joke, that you, with your flawless skin, and warmth and radiance, could love someone like him. It didn’t make sense to him. He was the beast, an unnatural creation held together by a thread. And you… you were his beauty. The light in his darkness. The one thing that made him feel human.

“How do you look at me and not run away?” His voice was raw with insecurity. He curled his fingers into the lacy fabric of your dress, gripping tightly, as if bracing himself for an answer he feared.

You didn’t hesitate. Gently, you cupped his cheeks, your thumbs reuniting with the cool, uneven texture of his skin, feeling the faint ridges of stitches beneath your fingertips. You lifted his face, urging him to meet your eyes.

“Because I love you,” you said, your voice filled with certainty. “You are my darling husband. Must I need any other reason?”

Your eyes searched his, willing him to believe you. To see himself the way you did. Not as something broken, not as something unnatural, but as yours. Entirely, unconditionally, yours.

Though you spoke fondly, your words didn’t land. Mingi’s brows drew together, his lips pressing into a thin line as doubt clouded his mind. No matter how many times you reassured him, no matter how gently you held him, he struggled to accept that someone like you could love someone like him.

You leaned in closer, your lips hovering just above his. "Let me show you," you murmured softly. Slowly, you closed the distance, capturing his lips with yours in a tender kiss. His initial hesitation melted away, replaced by a tentative hunger as he responded to your touch. His hands found your waist again, and he pulled you closer, the erratic beat of his heart thumping against yours.

As your kiss deepened, you felt Mingi's hands exploring, sliding up your back with a newfound confidence that sent shivers down your spine. It was as if his self-doubt unraveled with every touch you brought him. The way you melted into him, the breathy moans slipping past your lips, served as undeniable proof that you wanted him as much as he wanted you. And for the first time, he allowed himself to believe it.

You pulled back slightly, your eyes locking with his, silently asking for permission and offering reassurance. His gaze held nothing but trust and longing, a silent plea for you to continue, to take the lead.

Carefully, you began to undo the buttons of his shirt, your fingertips grazing over his bare skin. You pushed him gently down onto the mattress, a spark of desire burning in your lower abdomen as you climbed on top of him.

Your lips reconnected with his, and you couldn’t help but rut your hips, grinding yourself over his growing bulge. His moans vibrated against your lips, a low, primal growl that sent shockwaves through your body. He was always so reactive to your touch, his big body seemingly getting smaller as he melted just beneath you.

Your kisses trailed down his neck and over his exposed chest, lips lingering gently over the scars just above his heart. Your hands roamed over the hard plane of his muscles, tracing over the contours of his body with a light and playful touch. You could feel Mingi stirring beneath you, groaning as his big hands found their way to your hips, pulling you closer, wanting to feel every inch of your body against his. He moved you back and forth, a sticky wetness already staining his freshly worn trousers.

Mingi's head fell back, his eyes shutting tightly as you took his nipple into your mouth, suckling gently. His chest rose and fell rapidly, a mixture of pleasure and anticipation taking over as you played with his tender flesh, biting and pulling ever so slightly. A wanton moan escaped his lips, a low, pleading sound that filled you with glee.

“Y/N…” he whined, his voice soft and pleading. His hands rested on your shoulders, his fingers lightly gripping your skin, silently begging you for more. When you looked up at him, your mouth still busy on his nipple, you felt a rush of power. His hair was slightly disheveled, falling over his forehead in a way that made him look even more breathtaking. His eyes, wet and glassy, met yours, and his puffy lips were slightly parted, as if he was going to cry out your name again.

Your clothes had fallen to the floor, discarded in the heat of the moment. Your naked body, now warm and flushed, pressed against his own, his large frame resting back against your soft flesh. You kissed him passionately, your lips trailing down from his jawline until making home over his neck. Your hand reached around and stroked his hard cock, a gentle caress that made his hips buck.

"So pretty,” you breathed, your head resting against his shoulder as you studied his long length. “Every inch of you is a work of art, made just for me…Look how perfectly you fit in my hand."

His cheeks flamed at your words, his eyes lowering as he melted in your hand. Only you could say such filthy things to him and make it sound so eloquent. It made him wet, forcing a dribble of precum to escape his slit, which you thumbed over and circled against his throbbing head.

You then moved around his large frame until you were kneeled before him, dipping your head just enough to spit on his cock, his breath hissing as your saliva dripped down his shaft. Mingi watched intently, his breath catching as you took all of him into your mouth, your lips stretching wide around his girth. He whimpered at the sudden warmth of your mouth. His own hung open as he sat and watched in awe as you sucked and slurped him, making sure to give him all the attention he needed. His eyes rolled back, and for a moment he felt weightless, as if he was floating on a cloud, a strong bliss taking over his senses.

You bobbed your head and took him deeper, forcing your hair to fall forward and frame your face. Captivated by the sight, Mingi gently gathered your loose strands and tucked them behind your ear. He desperately wanted to tell you that you looked so beautiful at this moment, that he admired how hard you worked to make him feel good, but the words got stuck in his throat each time your throat gagged around him, so he kept tending to your hair, pulling the strands away from your eyes so they didn’t bother you. His touch, so tender and loving, made your heart flutter in your chest.

“You taste so good,” You moaned against his cock, gripping a hand tighter at its base. “I can’t get enough of you.” He shuddered as you traced wet kisses along his vein, your tongue exploring every ridge and curve.

Sucking on his tip, you pumped him up and down, your grip becoming even tighter. Mingi's eyes widened, and he shuddered again, unable to hold back any longer. His breath hitched, and his body tensed as a wave of relief washed over him.

With a powerful thrust, his cum shot into your mouth, filling it with his warm seed. You moaned, your eyes closing in satisfaction as you took him deep, a sensory overload that left him breathless.

Mingi turned a delightful shade of pink, embarrassed to see his cum dripping from your lips. It was adorable seeing him so flustered. He started to apologize and offered to get you a towel to spit on, but your actions left him speechless. You hummed in satisfaction, a deep, contented sound that turned his brain to mush. Without hesitation, you swallowed his load, licking your lips clean, a sign of your complete devotion to him.

You pressed a gentle kiss to his sensitive cockhead, a gesture that made him snap back to reality. Looking up at him, you saw his flushed, sweaty expression, and your heart skipped a beat. The sight of him, so vulnerable and raw, made you sigh in adoration.

"You're so handsome when you cum, honey” you whispered. “Such a good boy for me.”

He blushed, a subtle pink tinting his cheeks. He could feel your love radiating toward him, and it felt almost overwhelming, a beautiful connection that he just couldn’t describe. Something inside him ignited, both a hunger and a need to give back, to be the one to pleasure you. With a swift and gentle movement, he pulled you onto his lap, your bodies aligning perfectly like two puzzle pieces.

His lips crashed against yours, tasting his saltiness on your lips. You moaned, your arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him closer. The feel of his hard cock rubbing against your wet folds sent goosebumps all over your body, a delicious friction that had you wanting more.

Mingi pulled away, his eyes darting down to your wet heat, admiring how pretty your slick juices look all over his cock. Meeting your gaze, he spoke softly, his voice filled with undeniable want. “I want to make you feel good, Y/N. I want to be good for you…please, I’ll be so good.” It almost pained him to want you this way, to desire you this badly, and he needed your permission to put out this fire that burned within him.

Your heart bursted at his words, a rush of love and appreciation washing over you. You nodded, a subtle gesture of consent, and he smiled, a sweet, loving smile that melted your heart. He leaned in, his lips trailing kisses down your neck, his hands roaming all over your body before settling them at your waist. He guided you over his cock, and you sank down, gasping at the stretch. His brows furrowed with concern, a fleeting moment of worry before you leaned in and kissed him to reassure him. You rocked your hips back and forth, getting used to his length.

“Mingi,” You whined, your pace quickening as you found your rhythm. He was buried so deep inside of you that it made tears well in your eyes. You continued kissing him hungrily, your lips moving from his mouth to his neck, leaving behind a trail of purple bruises. His hands roamed your back, a comforting touch that contrasted his hardness that rocked inside of you. As you pulled away to catch your breath, you caught sight of Mingi's eyes, which were as teary as your own. His gaze was fixed on you, an intense lock that spoke volumes about the deep love that he undoubtedly had for you. You almost wanted to cup his sweet face and kiss away his tears.

Before either of you could speak, his grasp on your waist tightened, a silent plea for you to stay put. You felt his cum releasing inside you, a warm sensation that mixed with your own, filling you to the brim. You cried out, your eyes locked on his as you reached your climax. It all felt so overwhelming, but he worked you gently and slowly over his cock, bringing you down from your peak with a tender and caring touch.

Exhausted, Mingi collapsed against the bed, pulling you down with him. You tumbled forward, your body molding against his as you rested atop him, breathless and sweaty. With a soft hum, you began peppering his face with tender kisses over his eyelids, his cheeks, and the sharp line of his jaw; each one a silent prayer, a vow of devotion. Your fingers traced the familiar contours of his face as you sighed, content.

“My Mingi,” you whispered, a gentle smile curling at your lips. But then, a sudden darkness took hold of you.

He wasn’t your Mingi.

The man beneath you, holding you, loving you, was something else entirely. A being shaped by your grief, your desperation. A body stolen from the earth and brought back by your own hands. A carefully crafted illusion of the man you lost. And he had no idea, no idea that you stole him, reimagined him, all for your own selfish intentions.

The realization threatened to crush you, your chest tightening as the weight of the truth nearly pulled you from the moment.

Mingi, ever attuned to you, sensed the shift in your expression. His brows knit together as he reached up, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear that had slipped down your cheek. Though he didn’t understand the sorrow behind it, he smiled softly, his eyes full of adoration, his love for you unshaken.

He pulled you closer, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead, anchoring you back to him.

“I love you so much, Y/N,” he whispered to you. And just like that, he drifted off to sleep, his own qualms put to rest, while yours just began to crack at the surface.

I would greatly appreciate reblogs with comments and replies. please consider leaving feedback if you enjoyed this x.

taglist: @yoonguurt

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luci-in-trenchcoats · 2 months ago

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Primal (Part 2)

Summary: The reader and her mysterious friend are forced to come clean to Beau about who they are. Beau still has questions he needs answered though, and when the reader's heat returns, bringing them both home seems like the smartest choice. But the question of the reader's strange heat puzzles them until Emily voices a theory, one that means they're dealing with something far worse than just a serial killer...

Primal Masterlist

Pairing: Alpha!Beau Arlen x Omega!reader

Word Count: 7,800ish

Warnings: language, angst, violence, drugging, serial killers, death, kidnapping, mention of human trafficking

A/N: Here we go with Part 2! Lots of answers in this part and even more questions!

Reader POV

Thirty Minutes Later

“Oh, what the fuck, Y/N.” You waved awkwardly to the Alpha that was frowning as you walked into the interrogation room. Both of you now wore a pair of Helena PD sweatpants and t-shirt but his annoyed glare remained unchanged. “You moron. You could have walked away. You-”

“Nice to see you too, bud. Always love the compliments,” you said, Beau brushing past you, gently shutting the door behind you.

“Hello. Barclay.” Your jaw dropped, Barclay’s eyes raging as they settled on you. “Tim Barclay. Y/N Y/L/N. Now you two are a long way from home.”

“You told him?” he snarled. You shook your head, Beau smiling happily as he sat up on top of the table.

“No, no. She tried to come up with some half-cocked plan to get you out without us running your prints,” said Beau. Barclay scrunched his brow. “I know what you’re thinking. We didn’t take your prints. Oh but see we did. You had your hands all over that stretcher.”

“Fucker,” Tim grumbled. Beau lifted his chin, looking down his nose at him. “I ain’t saying a fucking word.”

“I ain’t the dumb hick cop you must think I am,” said Beau, sliding to his feet, turning to you with a smile. “Let’s see how much I know already for fun, hm? See Timmy here is a US Marshal, formerly out of the Boston office. He went on a sabbatical ten months ago.”

Beau stepped over to you, tilting his head. You swallowed under his intense gaze, his scent floating around you, making your head dizzy.

“Did you know Tim’s old supervisor took him under his wing when he first started? Poor kid didn’t have much in the way of family. That supervisor invited the young man around for family dinners with his own wife and kid daughter and all that. Turns out Tim was like a big brother to that little girl. Cute story, huh?”

Beau pulled out a phone and spun it around, showing a picture from Tim’s instagram. A throwback of when he’d spent his first Christmas with you and your parents. You closed your eyes, Beau clicking his tongue.

“Throwback Thursday to that time the little brat gave me the nightmare fuel teddy bear #FrankenBear.” Beau hummed. “Oh and my favorite is the response from a profile with a striking resemblance to you. ‘First off I was eleven and handmade that shit. Second, I remember you bawling like a baby when you opened it, dumbass. #ungratefulbrothers #Imgettingyouacreepyassdollthisyear’.”

You took a seat at the table, Beau sitting down across from you. He looked to Tim who was breathing deeply, hands in fists from where he was cuffed to the table.

“Why are you protecting your sister, Tim?”

“She’s not my sister,” he said, peeling open his eyes. “...Legally speaking.”

“Why are you protecting Y/N?” he asked again. Barclay ignored Beau, frowning like he did when he was worried. He stared at you, his scent growing nervous.

“Because of me,” he whispered, his gaze dropping to his lap. You sighed, Beau leaning back in his seat, glancing at you.

“Tim worked a big case last fall. Illegal drug smuggling. Pharmaceuticals. It targeted Heat and Rut medications that were sold on the black market to traffickers for control purposes. He was part of the task force.” You found Beau’s face, his eyes cautious. “One man was killed during the raid…by Tim.”

“His brother wants an eye for an eye.” Tim closed his eyes, scrapped up knuckles showing the white of his bones. “I killed his brother so he wants Y/N dead. Only problem is he’s former special ops and he made off with an obnoxious amount of heat inducers. He’s been targeting women that look like Y/N. We’ve bounced around the country but he always follows us. Somehow he has inside information which is why we can’t trust anyone, even law enforcement.”

“We’ve been in Helena two months. Tim finally let me go out of my own tonight for the first time since this all started.” You put your arms on the table, resting your head in them, a wave of exhaustion rolling over you. “It’s my fault this happened.”

“Hey. No, it’s not. I should have been there,” said Tim. You peeled open an eye, his expression softening. He sighed, angling his body towards the sheriff. “I’ll answer whatever questions you have, Arlen. Shit, arrest me for what I did to your officer back at the hospital. But let Y/N go rest somewhere and for the love of god, keep her safe.”

Beau let his gaze wander, your head raising under his heated stare. Your nose twitched, his scent turning musky, your own responding in kind. Tim looked between you, narrowing his eyes.

“Why the fuck are you two eye fucking?” You blinked rapidly, pressing a hand to your abdomen and the heated coil that began to simmer.

“I uh…need the ladies room,” you said, rushing out of the room and heading down a hall. You shoved open a door and went to the sink, turning the faucet on to splash cold water in your face.

“Are you alright?” You turned, water droplets running down your cheeks. Beau stood in the open door, one large hand splayed against it, his scent coming off even stronger now. His eyes tracked down your body, lingering in way that made your insides clench. “You’re going into heat again, aren’t you.”

“Yup. That is a thing that’s happening,” you said, chewing the inside of your cheek. “I thought the heat stopper worked?”

“It smells…natural.” He wiped a hand over his face, holding it up. “I didn’t mean it like that. I’m not…scenting you or anything. It’s just…”

“My hormones are all screwed up. I’m sure you smelling like that…” Your cheeks were on fire, slick dampening between your thighs at the thought of being so near a strong, protective Alpha. You cleared your throat. “It just triggered a natural heat I’m sure.” He hummed, both of you ignoring the way you could clearly smell the growing arousal in the air. “You should probably take me to the hospital to be safe.”

He frowned, making a face. “Normally I’d agree with you but there sort of is a serial killer on the loose and given their proven access to heat inducers, we are likely dealing with someone with access to the hospital. I can’t guarantee your safety there.”

“Right,” you said, pointing a finger at him, nodding your head. “Good call a rooney.”

Oh god, someone please drop me off to that killer after all so I don’t die of embarrassment first.

He opened his mouth, pressing his pink lips closed after a moment. He debated something internally before he looked at the ceiling with a wince. “The last place you should be having a heat is a filthy police station with a bunch of criminals down the hall. I…do have a safe place you could have it. And a way to keep Barclay out of the system potentially. Not saying I buy his story but I can keep things on the down low while I look into things.”

“I’m all ears, sheriff.”

Two Hours Later

“How are you feeling, Y/N?” asked Dr. Olson. You hummed from the warm bed you were curled up in, not even bothering to open your eyes.

God damn, Beau had a comfy bed. A nice, big, soft, full of musky Alpha scent woven into every trace of fabric, bed. He was working downstairs while you rode out a nice, drug-aided heat in his room. Dr. Olson and a nurse Beau knew personally were spending the night along with at least three officers. You’d tried to explain that you could suffer through in his office at the station once you realized how much work you were causing but Beau had an ulterior motive for bringing you home it seemed.

Namely, he had a seventeen year old daughter and the fact he was personally protecting her at home while a serial killer was running around his town?

Yeah, that was not helping this whole, “sexy sheriff made you go into heat” thing.

“Dr. Olson, my dad wants to talk to you?” You slowly opened your eyes, the doctor leaving as you caught sight of the young woman with dark hair. The nurse excused herself to the guest room next door, leaving the two of you alone. She smiled at you, stepping in for a moment. “Can I get you anything?”

“No, I’ll sleep this off and be better by morning,” you said, the faintest whiff of her light, airy scent in the room. “I promise being an omega normally isn’t like this.”

“That’s what the nurse said.” She came in more, sitting at the end of the bed when you nodded. “When did you get your first full on heat?”

“Early twenties is normal. I’m thirty two and have been having them a decade. They aren’t so bad,” you said, sitting up and leaning back against the stacks of pillows behind you. She looked worried though. “Your first one will be your worst one since you have to go through it without medicine. After that though, it’s a breeze. This is so completely not normal.”

“Do Alphas really trigger heats? Cause like, I know my dad gave you Blaze on the street and then you got better and then you went into heat again after hanging out with him…”

“Um,” you said, scratching your head. You didn’t really want to be talking to this girl about how her very handsome father had absolutely triggered her into having a heat. “I mean, yes, they can if you don’t stick to your regular cycle. True mates can do that too. My hormones are very all over the place right now and I haven’t had one in a while so your dad probably played a small part in it but that’s all completely normal and-”

“He thinks you’re hot.” You blinked, the girl shrugging. “He can’t keep his eyes off you, not to mention he’s doing that musky thing with his scent which last time I smelled that I was ten and walked in on my parents which was scarring enough but yeah, he’s like, into you. Just thought you should know.”

“I’m sure your dad isn’t into me,” you said with a smile, while she hummed. “You’ll learn this but when an omega goes into heat in public, it makes the Alphas…eager. Our heats can trigger their ruts so I’m sure all you think you’re picking up is an Alpha and Omega scenting each other.”

“The doctor told him the only reason you would have gone into heat again so soon after the stopper was because you scented ‘desire’ from an Alpha. And then his face got beat red and then he took a scent blocker but I’m sure you’re right. He’s-”

“Emily, right?” you asked. She hummed, her face knowing she’d overstepped. “Emily…to put this really bluntly, when an Alpha smells an omega in heat, it makes them want to have sex. All you smelled was him getting turned on when I had some very strong heat scents going on. I’m sure he’s a very nice man but that’s all it was. Okay?”

“Sure, cause it’s totally normal for him to bring some random omega home but what do I know. My dad’s just horny, hm?” She got up and you sighed. “I know you don’t want to hear this but I know him. He likes you.”

“Alright,” you resigned, slipping down in the bed, a wave of drowsiness washing over you. “You can tell me how much he likes me after I sleep this off.”

“See? Told you I was right,” she hummed before heading out of the room.

“Kids,” you mumbled, shaking your head. Sure, Beau was attractive and smelled nice…and okay, he was letting you stay in his home…and hadn’t charged Tim with anything yet as far as you knew. But he was just doing his job. He was being nice. He didn’t think of you as anything more than a poor victim. You hadn’t dated or been with anyone in a long time so sure, the hot protective guy paying special attention to you? It was a little crush was all. Nothing more.

At least, that’s what you told yourself as you burrowed your nose in his sheets, wishing he was beside you in that bed.

Beau POV

The October night air was cool, cutting through my flannel shirt, a sharpness to it that sent a chill down my spine. My gaze darted around the property, an unsettling feeling of being watched cascading over the house. I knew I had my officers around the entrances. Logically, this place was secure. Hunter wouldn’t dare try something here.

True, Emily and I didn’t exactly live in the suburbs. The rustic style house was bigger than the two of us needed but after all the shit she went through with that nutjob family at the camp, I wasn’t above buying the first place that put a smile on her face. We had a few acres that backed up to the woods and surrounded the property. A short minute walk through them on either side lead to the neighbors.

Unease weighed down as I looked around again. The sun was long gone and I couldn’t make out trees I knew were there from the smear of darkness that enveloped our lit up hideaway.

Goddamnit. I came out here to get some clear air, not fucking paranoid.

I stepped off the porch and to the front path of pavers, veering off it to wander out into the grass about thirty or so feet away. The air was crisp, maybe coming off the mountains tonight. I closed my eyes, hoping the breeze would help the pounding in my head.

A serial killer was running around my town and making fools of my officers. I had information overload on Marshal Tim Barclay. I’d need to talk to him alone soon. On paper, on the premise of facts, I’d be stupid not to suspect he was Hunter. Statistically, you were much more likely to be killed by someone you know and it wouldn’t be some insane stretch to think for some reason, he was manipulating Y/N all along.

If it were him, that’d be so fucking convenient for me. A nice little bow on the end of a long, emotionally draining, case. But my gut kept throwing up warning flags, flashing neon signs that Barclay truly was nothing more than a guy protective of his kid sister.

Kid. More like a thirty two year old woman with a body that had me adjusting my underwear more than an acceptable amount tonight. The whole damn house smelled like her. Her goddamn scent was…

“Stop,” I growled when I felt my dick twitch in my jeans. I rubbed my temples, walking out further from the house. Y/N was simply an incredibly attractive, incredibly in heat, omega that was triggering the fact I hadn’t been laid in nearly three years. That was all whatever this…feeling was.

My hand went to my stomach when a curl of wrongness settled there sending another message upstairs.

You aren’t just horny, moron. You can’t get her scent out of your head. Now why would that be? Remember health class? Biology? That thing we didn’t pay attention in? Bet you wished you had right now cause the answer is buried way in the back drawer of your subconscious under all that useful knowledge of the stats of your fantasy football team.

The air clearly wasn’t helping and bringing Y/N here was a stupid idea. But I just…couldn’t leave her at the station, couldn’t stay away from her. I couldn’t have Tim booked into the system, a nauseous wave overcoming me each time I thought I’d be better off to formally charge him as Hunter.

He wasn’t crazy. He was scared for Y/N like any good brother would be in this situation. And her? Y/N was a victim that had an Alpha nearly a dozen years older in a tail spin because his job was to catch who hurt her and all he could think about was the vanilla scent that followed her wherever she went.

Forget about Y/N and go back to work. I stormed back inside, my head probably more confused than when I left. I glanced one to the right where the closed doors of the den were. It was quiet inside the room. Good. I’d deal with him later.

“Em, bed time,” I said when went down the hall and found her in the open kitchen making popcorn. She pretended not to hear me, bypassing me as she got out a glass from the cabinet. I stood by the island, crossing my arms, growing impatient as she filled it with cold water from the tap. “Emily. You have to be at the airport at six in the morning. It’s nearly ten. Go. To. Bed.”

“It’s 9:15, old timer,” she scoffed, spinning around with a frown. “I’m already packed and I promise I will be up at 5:30. I’ll sleep on the plane.”

“Emily, I-” She held up a hand, my eyebrows raising.

“There’s a cop on the front porch. There’s a cop on the back porch. There’s a cop by the garage door. Not to mention there’s a doctor and nurse upstairs in your bedroom with that sleeping woman. Then there’s that hot, angry looking guy in the den-”

“I told you not to go in there,” I growled. She held up her hands, her scent growing more tense right along with mine. Why wouldn’t she just go up to her room and sleep and give me one less thing to worry about tonight? “Emily. There is a lot of shit going on-”

“I didn’t go in the stupid den,” she snapped, a bit too much venom behind her words. I breathed deeply, Emily getting her popcorn out of the microwave, pouring it in an empty bowl nearby. “I saw out the window some guy in cuffs got brought into the house and you said don’t go in the den so yeah, I figured that one out. I’m getting sick and tired of everyone treating me like a child. I’m a senior. Seventeen. In a year I’ll be at college living on my own. All you and mom and your friends and even that omega upstairs who I don’t even know…all you do is treat me like an helpless child. Yeah, I got kidnapped last year. Over a year ago. Stop babying me.”

She took her bowl and glass of water, storming off to the living room, the sounds of The Bachelor playing in the distance. I leaned back against the counter, closing my eyes as a dozen conversations from therapy came rolling back. Maybe I’d been too overprotective in the past. Maybe I did need to loosen the reins more. It was a process we’d been working on for over a year and she knew that. But something was going on in town and I needed her clear of this place, no matter how it made her feel.

It was already hard enough to concentrate with Y/N in the house. My gaze wandered away from the family room and to the stairs leading to a dim hallway where she was tucked away. My body buzzed happily for a moment, like it was relishing in the fact she was in our bed right now.

Y/N being gorgeous as sin wasn’t helping. Her bravery for trying to defend Tim when less than thirty minutes earlier she was in a life or death situation wasn’t great either. It was obvious she cared deeply for him. On top of it all, she escaped a fucking serial killer while drugged to hell. Strong. Intelligent. Beautiful. A kind soul that smelled like walking into a warm bakery on a cold autumn day.

I scratched over the small patch of skin on my neck where my bonding gland was buried deep within, a wave of fuzziness rolling through my body. Wait, that wasn’t lust because of her heat. That was…what the hell was that?

“How the hell did you hold out for so long?” I mumbled to myself. I lasted maybe three minutes from the time I touched Y/N’s neck drenched in the heat inducer to being floored on the ground. From all accounts so far, she’d made it ten from the time she was attacked at the park and made it to the sidewalk in front of the bar.

“You didn’t read that sex ed book you got me, did you.” I glanced up, yanking my hand away when Emily stood there again, her arms crossed. “Heat inducers trigger a heat when an Omega’s cycle isn’t normal. But, if an Omega has a normal cycle like most of them do, the inducer causes a flash point.”

“Like you get flash points right now cause you’re still presenting,” I said quietly, Emily pursing her lips. “So what are me and the doctors missing? A flashpoint is just a mini-heat that lasts for a few minutes.”

“Right. So you gave Y/N the Blaze to stop the flashpoint and she started to get better.”

“But she was not in the middle of a flashpoint. I was there. That was…something worse than a heat.” I said, remembering how hot her scent was, how potent it was. Her shrill, guttural scream as she passed out would be the star of many a nightmares to come.

Emily walked around to the island, taking a seat on a stool. “It temporarily got better and then you sent her into heat again at the station. Now the only reason that could happen would be the really big obvious thing that no one is thinking of because it hasn’t been a thing in over a century when medicine became a thing.” Emily tilted her head, my eyebrows raising. She rolled her eyes. “Dad. That heat inducer was laced with something else. Something they don’t test for because it’s not a thing that happens anymore…Did you seriously not pay attention in history class either?”

“First off, I didn’t take all AP classes like you and second, Em, you’re confusing the hello out of me. What are you even talking about?” She leaned over the island, letting out a groan.

“Way, way, way back in the day, unmated Alpha’s in a Rut that went on too long used to go around biting omegas they wanted in their bonding gland. You know like if they were crossing the ocean or marching across a country or some shit and some poor dude went into rut and he couldn’t bust a nut in an omega.”

“Emily,” I groaned, squeezing my eyes shut. “Jesus fucking christ…”

“Sorry,” she said, making a face like I was the one making it awkward. “Anyway, they’d be so hopped up on Alpha hormones, they wouldn’t even wait to have sex, they’d just bite to claim the first omega that suited their fancy. But they’d go a little stir crazy cause they had to wait so long and they called it-”

“Primal,” I breathed out, shaking my head, opening my eyes again. “That’s…Em, that’s not been a thing for hundreds of years. Primal Alphas don’t exist anymore. We have medicines for Ruts now and even then, you have to be in Rut for close to a year I thought I remember to go Primal. Literally no one in this day and age would be able to have that happen.”

“Alright,” she shrugged. “Maybe I’m wrong but what else makes an omega go into a strong heat that keeps coming on except for being bit by a Primal Alpha? Nothing. The omega goes into heat over and over until they mate with the Primal Alpha and get claimed. It’s either that or die of the heat. At least back in the day. Nowadays like you said, we have medicine.”

I stared at her, that creeping sensation washing over me again. If Em was right, somehow I had a Primal Alpha with a torture and murder kink running around. And he’d picked Y/N as his next target.

My eyes darted over to the stairs again, dread filling my gut. Would Hunter come back for her? Could I keep her safe from a monster like that? I glanced back at Emily, memories of clutching her tightly while she still had rope burn on her wrists telling me I’d fuck this up and let Y/N down too.

Emily sighed, looking up at me with gentle eyes as if she could read my thoughts. “I’m sorry for being a pain tonight. I just get nervous when you start banishing me to other states that you’re being too protective cause that just makes me feel like I need you to protect me and we both know from therapy that’s not good for either of us.”

“No, it’s not,” I said gently, tugging on the end of her braid. “I’m your dad, Em. I’ll always protect you and this situation with Hunter is dangerous. I’m not sending you away because I think you aren’t capable. In fact it’s the opposite. I know you’re strong enough to go off on your own. But I’ll worry if you’re here in town, Em and the more worried I am about you, the less focus I can give to protecting that omega upstairs and stopping Hunter from hurting more people. I know my limit and I need your help.”

“Then I go to Seattle and if it’s still not safe for me to come home, I’ll go stay with Grandma and Grandpa in Texas.” I smiled, tugging again.

“You could stay with your mother…”

“Don’t push it,” she said, pursing her lips. “I told the doctor my idea about the Primal stuff when everyone first got here.”

“What’d he say?” I asked, Emily shrugging.

“He said that it was nearly impossible for a Primal Alpha to be out there without someone knowing about it.” I frowned. Sure, it was far fetched. But Emily was a smart kid, smarter than me about this stuff. He shouldn’t have discounted- “Then he drew blood and made a face like oh shit and then gave Y/N a shot in her bonding gland and then he tested her again and his face looked better.”

“Why didn’t he say anything?” I asked as the stairs creaked. Both our heads turned as Dr. Olson came downstairs, giving us a nod.

“Because that’s not something I could verify on the spot. I sent the instant read results off to a friend of mine at the university to do further analysis. Your daughter’s unfortunately right, Sheriff Arlen. The heat inducer was mixed with salvia from an Alpha in rut. An Alpha that is Primal” he said.

I wiped a hand over my face as he held up a hand. “I took a precaution with Y/N and gave her a flushing agent to her bonding gland in the event Emily was right. She’ll be just fine with no adverse side effects.”

“That’s great doc but I have a psycho on the loose in my town. Please send any information you and your friend have come up with over to the county morgue’s office and let them know what you’ve discovered. A fucking Primal Alpha serial killer…”

“Will do,” he said, returning upstairs. Emily was quiet, watching me pace around the kitchen. Shit, I was making her anxious. I padded across the wood floor, forcing myself to relax, give her a soft smile.

“Thank you my little smartie pants.” I kissed the top of her head, pulling her into a hug. “You helped Y/N and with my case. I owe you one.”

“Does this mean you’ll start listening to me from now on?”

“It means I’ll listen but you need to give a little too,” I said, leaning back. She rolled her eyes but it lacked any animosity. “Being a grown up means making decisions but also knowing when to listen and do as told. Please be safe tomorrow and don’t go anywhere alone.”

“Deal. If you tell me if you like that omega upstairs.” I breathed deeply, pinching the bridge of my nose. “Dad. You guys are giving off major vibes.”

“And there’s the teenager side again,” I said, Emily smirking. “She’s…attractive.”

Emily grinned like the cheshire cat, my own eyes narrowing. “Emily. That doesn’t mean anything.”

“You like her,” she said with a triumph hum. “That’s good considering she likes you too. All y’all grown ups forget that pups can smell things y’all can’t like how your scents are doing that mixing thing when y’all are in love.”

“Mhm,” I said, spinning her around. “Go finish your trashy reality show then off to bed.”

She waved me off and left to the family room, leaving me to settle back in at the table with my laptop. An hour later, Y/N’s scent had lessened, her heat probably having passed which was good. I had a better idea how I wanted to question Barclay about all the bombshells I’d discovered and was just jotting down one last though when I heard Emily start a new episode. I shook my head as Jenny called to check in.

“Any luck?” I asked.

“Only the shitty kind.” I leaned back in my chair, biting the inside of my cheek. “Beau, it’s been over four hours. Hunter’s in the wind. We got to re-group.”

“Keep up patrols but we can pull a third back. I want Hunter to feel squeezed still. Put everyone in the station on this but designate a team to work other cases tonight. I want them to keep working this. Hunter fucked up somewhere and we’re going to find it tonight. You and Pop head back to the station too, get you guys to start tracking down this Primal Alpha thing, see if there’s a connection there,” I said.

“You coming in? We could head to yours, brainstorm there.”

“Good call. I’ll make some coffee. You guys bring some grub. It’s gonna be an all nighter. Oh and Hoyt? You going to press charges against Barclay or what? I need an answer.”

“No,” she grumbled. “But I do want to kick him in the nuts.”

“I’m sure that can be arranged,” I chuckled, rising from my seat. “You sure you don’t want to charge him?”

“I’d take you up on that but the guy was just protecting his sister. Unless he turns out to not be innocent, then I’ll beat his ass so good he never makes it to trial.”

“Hoyt, what did I tell you about admitting your bloodlust to me?” I sighed.

“Whatever. You ever find out why he went off grid instead of using the Marshal service to keep her safe?”

“I have an idea. I’m about to go question him, see if I’m right. Text me when you guys get here.”

I hung up, grabbing my notepad and pen from the table before heading over to the shut doors of the den. After a brief pause, I turned the handle, Barclay exactly where I’d left him earlier in the night. I quickly surveyed the room, smirking when I saw a stray paperclip on the ground under the desk. Nothing else was out of place, not even where the chair indented the rug.

“So, how long ago did you get out of those cuffs?” I asked, closing the door behind me. He shrugged his shoulders forward, letting the cuffs fall to the ground behind him as he crossed his arms over his chest. “I’d guess about three minutes after you got dropped off in here?”

“I take it blondie isn’t pressing charges?” he asked. He stood from my office chair, a sharp edge to his scent.

“To be determined. Now make yourself comfortable,” I said, reaching into my back pocket, tossing a zip tie at him. He caught it, narrowing his eyes. I rested a hand on my hip, not on my gun but near enough for him to get the message.

Barclay fixed the loop and put his wrists through it, pulling it taught with his teeth. Tim sat back down, all while giving off major, “fuck off” vibes in his scent. I came closer now in the small room, clenching my jaw. “Now we both know you could get out of those if you tried. This is about you understanding your place. Disobey me again and I’ll let blondie hog tie you and beat you like a pinata if that’s what she wants. Understand?”

He rolled his eyes, an air of indifference around him. Not smug. No, he was confident. A confidence he could back up. Which meant he was either going to be a great asset if he was innocent or incredibly dangerous if he was Hunter.

Tim’s jaw clenched, eyes examining me as if I were the one that had attacked his sister or something. “I told you everything I know and Y/N is somewhere in this house. If you were going to charge me, Barlen, you would have left me at the station. So let me go and take my sister with me. We know how to keep a low profile. You can run around and catch your killer without us.”

“It’s Arlen,” I grit out. He smirked, leaning forward in his seat.

“Bitch ass Arlen? No, I think I got it right the first time.”

“Listen you, Alpha fuck.” The den door swung open quickly, Emily standing there with my radio from my belt. “What the hell-”

“Sorry but they needed you and were freaking out about something,” she said, shoving the radio in my hands. I didn’t miss the way Barclay stared at her, Emily giving it right back as someone droned through the speaker about a massive bar fight at Stormy’s.

“The fucker is trying to pull cops out of the area by causing a diversion,” said Barclay, offering a quick glance at me. “They probably spiked drinks with rut enhancer and the whole place is going nuts.”

I tried to ignore him but he was almost certainly correct. Stormy’s reputation preceded itself. Omegas knew to not go near it. Alphas knew you could easily buy drugs out the back. No cameras and no one ever talked to cops. Hunter’d been in town long enough to know that and know the place was a massive thorn in the side of law enforcement.

If nothing else, it told us Hunter was still in the original area which was good. I turned around, pressing the call button on my radio. “This is Arlen. Call the fire chief, tell her to send some of her bigger guys down with Rutcan. The aerosol kind and no, I don’t care how expensive it is. Tell her to bill me.”

I sighed, clipping the radio on my belt. Emily scurried off when I nodded, Barclay biting the inside of his cheek to stop a smile.

“You’re gonna forget that girl you just saw even exists, understand?” I snapped. “I swear to god-”

“The only thing I want is my sister safe. If she’s here with your kid, I’m going to assume you have this place locked down.” He leaned back into the chair, breathing deeply. “I told you everything and I’m sure you looked into me. I get being pissed over what I did to your officer but I do not hurt kids. I’m more of a help to you right now and we both know it. If you won’t let Y/N and me leave town, then at least let me work this with you.”

I took a deep breath. Alright, time to get to the truth.

“Your story doesn’t hold up, Barcly.” He looked confused, a flash of anger on his face hiding concern. Ah, so he was that type of guy. Anger was his front. I could work with that. “That drug dealer brother you said was after you?”

“Yeah…” he trailed off. I sat against my desk, crossing my arms all while Tim frowned up at me.

“He died about three days after you and Y/N left Boston. Drug turf war stuff.” Barclay shook his head, holding up a finger from his bound hands.

“You must have the wrong guy. I have intel from the Marshal service-”

“Barclay.” He snapped his mouth shut, both of us pausing a beat. He didn’t try to hide the gears turning in his head, a dozen scenarios and then some flashing through his mind in a split second.

“You have the wrong guy. Probably the same name. Mix ups have happened before,” he said, landing exactly on the idea I figured he would. But it wasn’t enough yet. I needed more before I could trust him.

“If there was truly a threat, why didn’t you follow your standard protocol and put Y/N into witness protection? Why do this off the books bullshit and put Y/N in danger?”

He looked past me out the dark front window, his face losing some color as the gears in his head turned him down a different path, down the ones he didn’t think existed a moment ago. I knew from his file Timothy Barclay was a highly skilled and highly trained. He graduated valedictorian of his high school in Boston. Somehow managed to get a four year degree in Business Management, minor in Criminal Justice, all while being in the army and joining special forces the second he was eligible at 19. He spent four years running around the world before he got into the Marshals, impossibly difficult at his age but his military career definitely helped. By 24, he graduated training and joined the US Marshals Boston field office where he’d remained up until early last January.

It’d taken some digging and bribing an old friend that was now a Captain back in Houston but he got hold of Tim’s personnel file. The man lived and breathed the US Marshals. He had taken more certifications, more courses, had more awards, than my entire station combined. I was very well aware of the fact this man was a better investigator, a better fighter, better shooter, better liar, than I’d ever be.

But some things, you just couldn’t fake.

“Talk to me, Tim. I can’t read your mind,” I said, trying to coax him back from whatever dark rabbit hole he’d gone down in his head. He blinked a few times, watching the stillness of night outside.

“I uh, got a threat on our front door. Like old school, letters cut out of a magazine, threat. Y/N and I share a place back in Boston,” he said, closing his eyes, searching his memories for an answer he didn’t want. “There was a power outage that night and our backup on our security system didn’t work that night which never sat right with me. Neither of us were home. I had a late call at work and Y/N had a girls night with a friend, stayed at her place. I saw the note when I got home in the morning.”

“Then what happened?” I asked, Tim shaking his head.

“I went to my supervisor like anyone would. Teddy, Y/N’s father. I said I wanted Y/N in protective custody, wit sec, something where she’d be protected round the clock. I didn’t care where. This drug family, they had enough connections with traffickers that if they got hold of Y/N…I just couldn’t let that happen to her.”

“So you went to Teddy,” I said.

“He said it wouldn’t be safe to do the normal protocol, that the dealers had an in at the Marshal service and would find us. I didn’t understand how that was true but they knew where we lived after all. I figured Teddy was high up in our office, in command. He would have known if there was an insider threat and I had no reason to question him.” Tim took a beat, opening his eyes, breathing quietly. “Teddy told me he’d put me on sabbatical and to grab Y/N and get out of town that night. He said he was to be my only contact and I was to trust no one. He’d tell us when to move around, where to go next but that was it. Every time Y/N asked when we could go home Teddy would say the drug dealer put a hit out on the two of us and we couldn’t come back until he’d built his case against him.”

“Teddy failed to mention this drug dealer being dead.”

“Why would he lie to us?” Barclay looked up at me finally, a mixture of anger and fear. A sliver of vulnerability that he’d fucked up. I sighed, walking over in front of him, stopping at his feet. “I don’t understand.”

“Barclay, I have a serial killer on my hands. They’ve been active in Helena for six months. Before that, looks like the same killer profile as in Boulder.” He shook his head, a look of panic crossing his face. “Before that, Atlanta.”

The dread on his face was a clear enough answer for me. This man had no idea about Hunter or what Teddy was up to.

“Let me guess. Cleveland before that?” he whispered. I nodded.

“Boston before that,” I said. Tim closed his eyes, flashing them open with another shake of his head.

“Wait, you said six months. That doesn’t make sense. Y/N and I didn’t show up here until closer to three months ago. There’s no way this guy is following us.”

“Oh, you’re right,” I said, squatting down. “You’re following him. Now tell me again, do you pick your next city or is that Teddy too?”

“That’s not…” Tim made a face, standing and brushing past me. He went to the window, his scent coming off in big panicked waves, something he would have learned to control years ago in all his trainings. No I recognized it all too clearly. It was the same way my office had smelled when Emily was abducted last year.

“No. No, you’re wrong, Barlen. If Teddy was tracking a serial killer, there’s no way in hell he’d not report it. He’d rather die than see his daughter get a paper cut a-and you’re telling me he’s sending her after a serial killer the past year? It makes no sense. It makes no fucking sense.”

I nodded, quietly walking over to him, cutting his zip tie off. He rubbed his wrists, his face hard again but the worry burned into his eyes. He knew what I did. Teddy was involved with Hunter, with a serial killer. There was no good justification in the world. Except for the fact Teddy probably wanted Hunter to kill Y/N or the both of them for some reason.

But Tim wasn’t ready to say that out loud and I wasn’t about to push him.

“No, it doesn’t. A lot doesn’t make sense. All I do know is Y/N was Hunter’s next target and she got away. We have to assume he will come after her again. Either way, you’re both involved and the one thing I have zero doubts about is you value her life above your own. I read your file and I need someone like you to help me catch this son of a bitch.”

Tim steadied himself, nodding to himself. “Hunter comes near her, I’ll make him regret being born.”

“Good,” I said, his face showing a flash of surprise. “My daughter was abducted last year and left for dead. The things I wanted to do to the man that took her…law and order has it’s place in the world. But some monsters just need to be put down.”

“Maybe you’re not awful after all, Barlen,” he said, tilting his chin up with a barely there smirk. He held out his hand, sharing a firm handshake with him. “Let’s get this guy and figure out what the fuck is going on with Teddy.”

“That’s all I get? No threats to stay away from your sister? Maybe you’re the one that’s into me,” I teased, letting a smile cross my face. Tim chuckled, stepping past me.

“First off, you couldn’t handle me, Barlen.” He looked over his shoulder, a dark smirk on his face. “Don’t get me wrong, you’re handsome and my sister’s type but the whole divorced, dad to a teenager, in his fifties means I don’t even have to threaten you. Once her heat’s passed, she ain’t even going to look at you.”

“I’m forty three, fuckhead.” He just smiled, egging me on. Fine. He wanted to play that game, I was down. “You know how pups can smell things we can’t?” I said, throwing an arm over his shoulders, walking him out of the den and towards the kitchen. “Emily says mine and Y/N’s scents are mixing and we all know that means there’s more than just attraction going on.” I flashed him a wink for good measure, his eye twitching. “Your sister smells so damn good, Barclay. Shit, she could be my true mate.”

“I need to speak with your child with poor scenting abilities. Now,” he grumbled.

“Barclay. You manage to get her the hell out of that living room and in bed, I won’t let Hoyt kick you in the balls when she gets here in fifteen cause man, she really wants to.”

“Deal,” he said, storming into the living room as I stood over the kitchen table. “Kid, tell me what the hell you smell between your dad and my sister and I won’t toss your butt in bed in the next twelve seconds.”

“Oh boy you really don’t want the answer to that based on your whole vibe. By the way, do you like Jenny?” I heard from the next room, chuckling when Tim scoffed like a teenager. “Cause your scent did that you like someone thing and you sound like you got maybe some enemies to lovers thing going on.”

“You know what you little-”

Glass shattered nearby, the distinctive sound of a shot ringing out, somewhere towards the back of the house. I hit the ground, watching wide eyed as Tim yanked Emily to the floor, covering her body with his all in the same fluid motion.

“Emily!” I went to move for her but slammed down and back behind the kitchen island when shots rang out from the front as well. “Emily! Answer me!”

___________

A/N: Read Part 3 here!

#beau arlen x reader #beau arlen #beau x reader #jensen ackles #beau arlen x you #beau arlen x female reader #beau arlen x y/n #beau arlen fanfiction #beau arlen fic #big sky fanfic #beau x you #beau arlen series #abo

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mythmerth · 11 months ago

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thinking about how some decisions in the show don’t even make sense if you don’t have the context that Merlin and Arthur are deeply in love with each other.

the one that really fucking gets me is when Mordreds life is at stake and Arthur asks Merlin if he would rather have mordred die or accept magic back into Camelot. This is an opinion he values more than any other, an opinion that would change his mind and sway him.

Merlin, described as magic itself, has been tasked the entire. fucking. show. with returning magic to Camelot and pushing Albion into the golden age under Arthur’s rule. This is everything he’s been working towards this entire time- literally. his life, his years and years of protecting Arthur, all (IN THEORY) are because this golden age is what he wanted, and Arthur would have fully listened to him and likely chosen what Merlin chose. Everything he worked for was RIGHT THERE in front of him. It makes absolutely no sense for him not to pick it. But we all know what he picked. So why?

He didn’t do it for Camelot. He didn’t do it for any kind of golden age, or to fulfill the ultimatum of the prophecy in the revival of magic. No. He chose to deny magic and kill mordred solely because he could not bear to watch his love die and was so distraught that it clouded him. Merlin was so afraid of losing Arthur, his friend, his other half, his king, that he denied every goddamn thing he was working for all at the prospect of allowing Arthur to live past the prophecy and not die by mordred’s hand. You can see it through the show- the way Merlin falls deeper for Arthur, the way, to him, the prophecy becomes less about the promised golden age and more about how desperately he wants Arthur to live.

The tragedy of Merlin legitimately only happens because Merlin loved too strongly and protected his king too fiercely. His overflowing love was his bane, and it led to Arthur’s death. People who watch the show and don’t view it under that lens are missing so much.

…Merlin is literally a show about condemning your soulmate’s life because you loved them so deeply and recklessly, like what the actual fuck

#he loved Arthur so much #that it killed him #he has to live forever knowing that he undeniably brought about the ending he feared #all because he loved Arthur above all else #doesn’t it just drive you absolutely insane #merlin #merthur #soulmates #the prophecy #bbc merthur #arthur pendragon #bbc merlin #merlin x arthur

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cryinggirlnamedhelen · 2 months ago

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NOW IM CURIOUS do you have a theory as to what happened to suo’s eye?? i’ve seen a few suggesting he’s a victim of human trafficking, was sold into slavery by his abusing/powerful parents, etc. i’m still not sure what i think happened 🥲

hmmmmmmmm ok so lemme be so frank here im still rlly new to the wbk fandom so im still no so familiar with the theories and inside jokes n allat so bear with me here ok

the human trafficking and slavery thing is actually really interesting because there are a lot of things about suo that stood out like a burning red flag to me while i was reading the manga. if you didn't know this, i'm chinese and i know a lot about chinese culture and i speak mandarin fluently. in chinese, suo can be written as 锁, which means lock. wbk has a lot of characters whose names represent them (ie; sakura - cherry blossoms are often representative of sakura in manga panels, endo - it can mean fire and it describes how he talks about takiishi like a "burning inferno"), and suo's meaning lock in chinese and him being fond of chinese culture and items is really interesting, because a lock holds something down or keeps it away.

and i know that there is a kanji (japanese writing) for his name, but this is interesting as well. the 2 kanji that make up "suo" mean "revive, resurrection" and "raft, wood". revive or resurrection almost means to be reborn in a way, or to live a whole new life or to come back from the dead, perhaps hinting that suo has revived from a near death experience or the lowest point of his life. the raft and wood part could imply that he escaped whatever he was locked to (likely trafficking) using some sort of raft. i also know that the letters combined means "sappan wood", which i just think is a reference to his character color because this is literally the color of sappan wood dye:

now let's get into the main part of this theory. we have heard time and time again that suo is fond of chinese items. his last name can be translated into "lock" in chinese. i've mentioned that he might've escaped from whatever he was locked to by some sort of raft. i'm going to talk about some heavy topics, so bear with me here. i believe that suo might have been born in china, got trafficked, then escaped to japan overseas using a raft with help, then changed the lettering of his last name. outlandish, i know. but i have evidence.

we know that suo doesn't move in his sleep from an official art by nii satoru. weird timing here, but in history, when african americans were on ships to be sold off to slavery, they were shackled to tight and compact spaces to sleep and eat. i'm so sorry if anyone is sensitive to these topics or thinks that talking about this stuff because of a manga is ridiculous, but since this is a theory, i had to bring it up. i'm sorry. but the slaves weren't allowed to move because there were so many people, and it would be too hot and too crowded if they moved around. plus, the shackles restrained most of their movement anyways. i suspect that suo might've been in a similar situation and just developed a habit of not moving around in his sleep.

i'd also like to mention that human trafficking is, unfortunately, still a heavy problem in china. north korean escapees--especially women--will nearly always require the help of a smuggler, who is a man (who, in this specific scenario, is chinese) who will smuggle them into china but sell them to human traffickers. i doubt that this is the case with suo, but i think it's still an important topic to bring up when we're making a theory about a character who could potentially have been trafficked.

now here's some more. here is a map of east asia.

as you can see, there are definitely ways to get to china to japan by boat. i don't think suo could have ever rafted here alone; i don't think some random kid would have been able to register himself an id or anything either. suo is 15 currently in the story, and we know that he's been in japan long enough to make a name for himself. and in case you're pointing out "but his first name is japanese!", people can legally change their first names.

the reason why no one knows who he actually defeated in middle school, if this theory is true (which is highly unlikely), is because he was middle school age, but not actually in middle school when he defeated them. maybe he was still in china at the time. idk.

so short answer: yes, he was human trafficked, and there was some sort of scar left behind. sorry i had a whole yap session, i kind of looked into the og mentioned theory because i'd never heard this theory before, but i ended up getting invested and made my own😭

#wind breaker #wbk #wind breaker suo #suo wind breaker #suo hayato #hayato suo #suo x you #suo x reader #suo hayato x reader #hayato suo x reader #wind breaker x reader #wbk x reader #wind breaker x you #wind breaker x y/n #wind breaker x gender neutral reader #wbk x you

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nagaytoe · 5 months ago

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Fatum

(Latin) [noun] Fate

Jericho Ichabod X Reader

Word Count: 4k

Requests: Open

TWs/Tags: Death, poison, corrupt gods, fate, existential crisis (?), PAST LIVE THEORY

Note: This was inspired by an audio from 'Dangerously yours', the past life theory and one of my favorite books 'Midnight Library'!!

(Hopefully this won't be a flop otherwise i may or may not go loca)

Tags: @sagegreen31

“Look! A shooting star!”

Crowe’s delicate finger pointed towards the night sky above you, as you felt the blades of grass tickle your neck.

Indeed there was, there was a bright star, brighter than any you’ve seen so far, making its way over the horizon. You couldn’t help but wonder where it’s path may lead it.

“Did you make a wish?”

You turned your head, facing Crowe, his hair spread over the ground in silky brunette locks, free from his signature braid.

Humming, you answer in a whisper, “I have.”

Now he turns his head to you too, the gash on his neck stretching as he does, causing you to grimace a little.

“What is it you have wished for?”

Tears welled up in your eyes as you gave him a bittersweet smile.

“I wished we were two other people, two people who need not say goodbye…”

Blood stained Crowe’s neck and the once lush, green grass beneath him.

He gave you a sad smile in response, reaching out to clutch your left hand with his right one.

“I am sure your wish will be fulfilled, my Love.”

Your brows furrowed at his comment, unable to grasp the meaning behind his words. Crowe chuckled slightly, softly squeezing your hand in his larger one, though the warmth it once carried was long gone.

“The tree,” Crowe pointed towards the tree which loomed over the two of you. “Do you remember what I told you about it?”

Pondering for a moment, you looked up at the tree’s branches, which partly obscured the view of the clear sky with stars scattered all over.

“Lily’s myth?”

“Yes, of the healing abilities the fruits bear.”

“Or of how poisonous they might be.”

Crowe sighed, but he was far from annoyed at your comment as a small smile played on his lips. “Nevertheless, it is the place where humans allegedly have come in touch with gods, it should be worth a try. Perhaps you will be fortunate enough to receive audience with one of this country’s patrons.”

“I was under the impression you did not believe in gods.”

Your remark makes him chuckle softly. “I do not, no. However, in this plane, where we currently find ourselves in, things might work differently. Who is to say that no one will answer your prayers?”

As you took a look around, everything seemed normal. It looked the same way it did yesterday evening, which was the happiest night of your life. Memories of Crowe’s soft lips upon yours made your heart flutter, the joy was short-lived however, for soon you remembered the predicament you both found yourselves in just several moments ago.

Blood had been everywhere, on the floor, on the walls, on Crowe’s body.

You had crouched down next to his body, wailing for your deceased lover, though it would not take long for you to join him in the afterlife. Perhaps it was better this way, for you did not wish to live in a world without him anyways.

“My Love, I believe our time is coming to a close.” Directing your attention back to Crowe, you noticed that he, as well as the park surrounding you, slowly faded away.

“No.” You felt panic rising up in your stomach as you sat up. “I won’t lose you… not again. I don’t know what will become of me without you, Crowe…”

“My Love, you will find me again, that I am sure of. We may not have been fortunate enough to be able to love each other in this life, but there must be one where we are granted this luxury.” He reached out to cup your cheek with his hand, but it passed right through you, unable to make contact with your skin. Tears welled up in your eyes as you tried to hold onto him, but to no avail. Your heart clenched painfully in your chest and it seemed as though it might implode.

“Crowe, don’t go, please…”

He gave you a sad smile, tears of his own streaming down his face. “I love you, in this life, every life before and every life to come.”

With that he vanished. It was as if he had never been here in the first place. You looked around, an endless sea of nothingness engulfing the surrounding area..

Suddenly, a voice was heard, loud and clear as if right next to you, it’s echo carried far in this empty plane.

“You bear a wish, my Child?”

Your head snapped into all possible directions but you failed to find any trace of another being in this space. “What?”

The voice was soothing, responding to you in a calm and quiet manner.

“You have wished upon a shooting star, have you not?”

The shooting star… was Crowe right after all? You looked to the side, seeing Lilith’s tree solely standing in all it’s glory amidst the darkness, which made it look awfully out of place.

“I may be able to grant your wish, if only you reveal what it is you long for.”

Something manifested behind you, the glow it emitted catching your attention. You turn around to find the silhouette of a woman, except for her luminescence she bears no features, as if she was but a mere shadow.

Clenching your fists a your sides, you took a deep breath before speaking your wish aloud.

“I wish for a life where Jericho Ichabod and I can be happily together.”

If only the woman had features, you could see her frown. However, the slight change to a more sorrowful tone in her melodic voice was telling enough.

“Oh, my poor Child, I am afraid this is the one wish I cannot grant you.”

The crack which struck your glass-like heart was almost audible as your breath caught in your throat. “Why?”

“It is not within my abilities to redirect fate.”

Your heart fully shattered, the pieces it left cutting into your lungs and robbing you entirely of your breath.

“What?” The question was uttered breathlessly, as if air was refusing to further fill your lungs.. “Are you implying we are not fated to be with each other?”

“I mean just that. There is no timeline in which you two may have the liberty of being together.”

The woman might as well have ripped your heart out and shredded it to pieces, instead it was left to shatter within the confines of your chest, behind a wall of flesh, muscles and bone. Oh, how you longed to rip open your ribcage and take out your very own heart in order to never feel pain of this sort ever again.

“Why!? I don’t get it! I love him, more than anything, why must I, why must we, be punished like this?!”

She fell silent for a moment at your cries and even though you could not see her facial expressions, you were certain she is pondering. “I see you fail to remember.”

Her remark almost made you recoil as you halt your bellows. “Remember what?”

“Your ancient sin. Fret not, dear Child, for I will enlighten you,” She motioned you to step closer, holding out her glowing hand. “Come to me, Child.”

Walking closer, you hesitantly laid your hand into hers, which was way colder than you would have expected it to be. “See this tree?”

You nodded in response, looking up at the giant tree. It’s the very same one under which you confessed your love for Crowe and realized the brightest star was not up above you, but right beside you.

The way Crowe looked at you, with a sparkle in his eyes as if he had plucked one of the stars from the sky above you and laced his eyes with it’s glow, was ingrained into your memories, deeply embedded into the depths of your brain where you could treasure it forever.

“You ate one of it’s forbidden fruits.” Your head snapped into the woman’s direction, a confused expression etched into your features.

“Excuse me?”

She chuckled. “Naturally, you fail to recall the event, for it took place centuries ago. Although, with your existence in this plane I would have expected you to remember. Never mind that, though.”

The woman let go of your hand and ushered you into the direction of the tree.

“Go on, my Child, pluck one of the fruits.”

Heeding her initial words, your gaze snapped back towards her. “But I thought I was not allowed to.”

“My Dear, we are no longer on the earthly plane, their rules do not apply here. Nevertheless, this tree in front of you is not the same tree, it is but a mere projection, you need not worry about possible consequences.”

Her words made you wonder, thinking deeper about something you had so blatantly disregarded.

“What is this here anyways?”

“It is the Bithalassus. The space between the mortal realm and the place where the soul goes after it perished from it’s vessel.”

A place between the realm of the living and of the dead. It made sense, but you failed to wrap your head around it, perhaps it was outside your capabilities to truly grasp this concept. “What place will my soul go to?”

“That is entirely dependent on your beliefs, my Child.” The woman assured you. “If you believe in heaven, you may go there, if you believe you ought to be reincarnated, you will wake up to a new life.”

Her words did not soothe your qualms entirely.

“I see… And what will happen if I take one of the fruits from the tree?”

“You will relive a past life, the one were you committed your ancient sin, to be exact.”

Cocking your head to the side, you tried your best to make sense of all the information she was throwing at you.

“But… won’t I be confused with all the modern world knowledge?”

“Do not worry about that. You will remember everything from your life at that time and in exchange forget everything from any other life you have lived so far. The memories of your current life will return, alongside the revelation of your sin, once you return to this space.”

You nodded and stepped towards the big tree. Looking up into it’s branches, you studied the fruits that hung from them and carefully, reluctance evident in your movements, plucked one of the fruits. A bright red apple, almost unnaturally so.

“Take a bite, won’t you?”

Hesitance laced your actions as you inched the apple towards your mouth. You were left to wonder what would await you once you took a bite, whether it would turn out to be but a mere ruse or reveal your past. As soon as you bit into the apple, your vision faded to black.

—

“Good morning, my Starlight.”

A warm, comforting voice awoke you from your slumber. Your eyes fluttered open, only to be met with deep blue ones. Neither the boisterous depths of the sea near your kingdom, nor the sky at night, littered with it’s glowing white freckles, will ever compare to the lovely shade of blue his eyes possessed.

“My Love,” wrapping your arm around him, you pulled his resting body closer to your equally still one. “Have you slept well?”

“How could I not with you next to me?”

A bright smile made it’s way to your face, the corners of your lips tugging upwards in response to his sweet words as you looked up at him. Words could barely describe how much he loved your smile, for not even the sun could compare to how it lit up any space you graced with your presence.

“My Love, I was dreaming the sweetest dream of you and I.” Jericho pressed a kiss to your forehead, resting his chin on the crown of your hair right after. “In my vision the two of us were standing at the ocean’s shore, watching the sunset. You were carrying a basket full of fruit and the two of us couldn’t help but indulge, eating one sweet apple after the other.” He chuckled, stroking the back of your head. “It felt so very peaceful.” Sighing, he pulled back to look you in the eyes with a warm smile on his lips.

“It appears we have a plan for today then.” Pressing a swift, sweet kiss to his lips, you pulled back just as quickly and rolled over in order to get out of bed.

“A plan you say?” Jericho propped himself up on his elbows as he gazed upon you with a curious expression.

“I will take care of it, worry not.” With that, you turned around and left your shared chamber, leaving your Lover dumbfounded.

Jericho heard a knock on the door to the dressing room, your voice calling out to him and asking for permission to enter. Once granted, you swung open the door, taking in the sight of your Lover cladded in different hues of purple and blue.

“Finished so soon?” He quirked an eyebrow as he walked towards you, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you close to his chest. Nodding, you informed Jericho that all that was left for you to do was getting dressed properly. He pressed a sweet kiss to your lips before turning to leave the room, giving you enough space to change out of your nightgown.

It didn’t take long for you to put on your finest garments for a casual day out, topping your apparel off with the most astonishing jewels Jericho had given you as a courting gift.

Leaving the chamber ladened to the brim with chests, half of which contained yours and the other half Jericho’s garments, you made your way towards your fiancé, who was currently sitting on your shared bed.

“Will you tell me what awaits me, my Dear?”

His gaze wandered over you, his smile subtly widening as he took in the sight of the jewels you wore.

“You have seen it once upon a dream.”

Jericho’s smile shifted into a grin as he stood up, now towering over you.

“I cannot fathom what that may be.” You couldn’t help but smirk in return to his remark. Taking ahold of his hand, you led him through the castle.

“We will not be feasting here today.”

The revelation of this information caused his brows to furrow ever so slightly as you pushed open the door to the kitchen. You were greeted by the castle’s chef, who handed you a basket with a polite smile on his lips. His long black hair was tied up and you couldn’t help but wonder just how long it may be once released from it’s usual style.

“I take it you plan on having a picnic with me?” Confirming Jericho’s speculation, you nodded and left the castle through the back door.

Rays of sunlight beamed upon the two of you, illuminating each of your features. It felt like a warm blanket was wrapped around you, engulfing you in a familiar, comfortable feeling. The surrounding scenery was nothing short of beautiful. Lush green grass covered the ground for as far as you could see. Tall trees carried bright green leaves, which glowed with an orange tint due to the sunlight, the remnants of it filtered through the greenery and created small patterns on the ground. The sky above you was a bright blue with no cloud in sight and you couldn’t help but close your eyes, inhaling deeply and taking in the moment.

A comfortable silence befell the two of you as you walked next to your fiancé. It was one of the many things you adored so much about him.

It didn’t take long to reach the shore, merely five minutes which were spent in mostly silence, though you wouldn’t complain. You had all day to talk about all sorts of topics with your Love.

“We won’t be able to watch the sunset, it is far too early.”

You came to a halt in front of the sandbank to take off your shoes. Your feet met the warm sand as soon as your footwear left them and you looked up at Jericho who was still taking off his boots.

“We can stay here until the sun sets, my Love, we have the entire day solely for us.”

He nodded and fell into step with you, carrying both pairs of shoes in his right arms, his left was occupied by your hand slithered around his biceps.

You settled down on the soft ground a few feet away from the water and placed the basket in between the two of you.

“What did you let the chef pack for us?” You looked over and met Jericho’s gaze with a soft smile.

“A bit of everything but mostly apples, I know how much you like them.”

His eyebrows lifted a little and he pointed out your distaste for the fruit. You chuckled in response, telling him you didn’t mind, as long as he was happy.

Taking in the sight of the luscious red apples nestled in the wooden container, you licked your lips. Despite not being too fond of apples, these looked way too tantalizing to be resisted.

“Perhaps I will try one after all…” Grabbing an apple, you handed it to Jericho before getting one for yourself.

He grinned at you and nudged his apple against yours like one would when clinking glasses.

The soft crashes of the waves helped you calm down even further, almost coaxing you into complete relaxation. The two of you brought each of your apples to your lips simultaneously and took a bite.

Initially, it tasted sweet, sweeter than anything you have eaten before and you hummed in contentment. However, the taste slowly morphed into something bitter, almost making you gag and crave to spit it out. Looking over at your Lover with wide eyes, you take in his horrified expression. He was clawing at his throat, gasping for air and not too long after you did the same. No matter how deeply you tried to inhale, oxygen refused to fill your lungs.

You hunched forward, almost laying on your side as you were bound to watch the star-like light leave Jericho’s eyes as you were wounding in pain. Desperately reaching out, you tried to take his hand, but he laid just a hairbreadth too far away. You looked up at the sky, dark clouds covered the once bright blue canvas and it almost seemed macabre to you that in your last moments you were refused any source of light and comfort, whether it be through the light of your world or the light of the earth. The view up above you seemed to darken even further, until all you could see was complete darkness.

—

You shot up, sputtering and gasping for air.

“Do you understand now?”

Your head snapped towards the soothing voice of the glowing silhouette and you realized you were back in the endless plane of darkness, Bithalassus.

“The apples?” You desperately tried to make sense of your previous observations. The woman nodded in response.

“But… we didn’t steal any, they were given to us!” Your brows furrowed as you argued, refusing to believe that Crowe and you are bound to receive eternal punishment for a sin you have not committed.

“I am afraid it does not matter who stole the apples, only who ate them.”

“But you said-”

“I never confirmed any theory you mortals came up with.” The woman interrupted with an unexpected firmness in her voice, before sighing as she continued her explanation.

“My child, listen closely and I may grant you the information you crave. The fruits of Lillith’s tree are free for anyone to take, however, they must be used as an offering for the gods. I am sure you feel wronged, but it does not matter whether you knew the fruits were meant for consumption or not.”

Your eyes widened at her explanation. “This means anyone could curse whoever they please to curse!”

She nodded. “It appears so. Although, the one who dooms another soul is bound to be cursed as well.”

You raised your eyebrows, reveling in this new found information. “That means the man who did this was also cursed?”

“Indeed he was and it might be in your interest to know that he was executed the very next day as well. Tell me, did you recognize him perchance?”

Pondering for a moment, you realized you had barely paid any attention to the man, leading you to shake your head in response to her question.

“It is someone you know all to well.”

Realization dawned upon you at her statement.

“Solivan?”

The woman nodded once more. “Yes, Solivan. For the rest of his existence, in all possible timelines, he will need to suffer from unrequited love, just like how his love for you was unrequited in the life you have just witnessed.”

Fate will repeat itself over and over again, that you were almost completely sure of now.

“Does this mean Sol will always be the one to kill Crowe?”

“It means just that.”

Your gaze met the ground and you could feel rage bubbling up in your stomach. All of this was his fault and there was no way to undo what has been done.

“My wish,” your tongue darted out to lick your lips and you tried your best to keep your composure. Ugly, unfiltered anger poured out of every pore but you urged yourself to phrase your wish as calmly as possible. You looked at her face and for the first time since you came here you questioned whether she was one of the goddesses of your land just like you had assumed or if she was merely a fragment of your imagination. It shall not matter, if she was able to help you, you would take her up on her offer nevertheless.

“I wish to be aware of the sin and to recognize the one who doomed Crowe and I in every upcoming lifetime.”

With the knowledge that she could not directly interfere with fate, you hoped there was a loophole to that rule.

“If this truly is what you wish for, then I shall grant your wish.” A hint of amusement was evident in her voice and you could swear, she would smirk were she to have a mouth.

You thought of yourself as fortunate now, grateful to have wished upon the shooting star. Being able to spend a day with Crowe, experiencing the love you once shared ages ago and finding the one responsible for both of yours suffering gave you a new purpose.

No matter what it may take, you will find Solivan in every life to come and you will not let him harm Crowe ever again, for you will willingly give your life and soul if it meant Jericho Ichabod was alive and well.

You will stop this unjust curse, this vile creature who doomed you, over and over again, refusing to simply subject to fate.

_____________________________________

Funfact: Bithalassus means "(space) between two seas)" thought it would be pretty fitting with the kingdom by the sea

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morallygreychaoticneutral · 8 months ago

Text

Astarion was not a "corrupt" magistrate.

Hello again. Just more opinion about my favorite battle buddy. Warning, trigger words in use. Game spoilers.

It's not quite set in stone that Astarion really was a magistrate, but we are going to go with the idea he was for this thought pocket. Also this is just game as it is now info use.

I don't believe he was corrupt magistrate. There were a few things in the game that called that out, but one in particular really set it in stone for me.

His response to the Ansur lair puzzle regarding justice.

Astarion: “Mercy?! Please. Justice should be a harsh lesson. All the better to deter the next vagabond.”

This makes me think he was a bit of a hard ass as a magistrate, but not corrupt. Had he been dealing dirty in the background I really feel like this answer would have been more dismissive or flippant. But he is pretty intent that this is his stance. Very, iv said this a thousand times, type feel.

I think, he was more of a by the book, law is law type. You murder and rape you swing from the gallows. You steal from a shop keeper, you do time. Period.

My theory is, he got beat up because he wasn't lenient with a member of the Gur that was on trial.

"Leniency?! You have been found guilty of negligence resulting in the death of a innocent! You are owed nothing!"

Could you hear it?

"But he talks about being hedonistic and indulgent all the time. "

Yes, but most patriar level citizens were spoiled entitled brats that did what they desired. Have you talked to some of them in the upper city? Yeeesh.

Was he arrogant? Most likely. Prejudice? Obviously (insert gnomes here). But being a haughty jerk does not make one evil.

Sex, nudity, orgies, parties, over indulging etc are not taboo in Faerun. If everybody is consenting to be being naked in a fountain, hopefully in a private villa garden, its not a crime. He talks about that like its a memory, but I like to think his wine drunk giggly ass was actually in that fountain.

If you want to have a little rabbit hole fun, break down the name. Faerun = Fae Run = Run by the Fae. And last I checked, fairies were always down for some naked in the water time. I mean, come on, you can go to pound town with a bear. (No offence, Halsin.) You think they are going to draw the line at how may wieners you can have in the same pot? I think not.

I think the criminal behavior came after he was turned. Cazador may have been targeting him, but not because they were involved. But maybe due to him looking like his old master Vellioth? And he took advantage of a situation. Who knows, lots of ideas there.

"But he's always getting onto Tav for doing the "right" thing."

Yup, Tav is being too trusting and getting too involved with other peoples problems. Why is this an issue for Astarion? Kindness was what got him entombed for a year. He cared about that sweet mans life and was severally punished for it. Its akin to being mauled by a dog and then watching people just reach out a pet every one they see. The anxiety of that attack is still there and it paints every encounter with its opinion. Danger.

"He's not smart enough."

Oh I bet he is. You can be whip smart at a subject and socially akward at the same time. I'm very good at my job. I know it inside and out and can give you any detail, rule, configuration at the drop of a hat in the most professional and proficient way possible. But ask me to be eloquent in a social situation? HA! You are better off asking a rock to fart. Unrelated.

"But he wants to ascend, and that's evil."

That is more about who is is after years of torment and abuse. Not before.

I think the rogue role was adopted to stay alive while hunting. And what a gods awful fate to be turned into the thing you hated the most. A criminal.

I'm sure Caz was real tickled by that. Expletive Adjective.

#astarion #baulders gate 3 #headcanon

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sushi-rollss · 2 months ago

Text

the foolish | anaxagoras

disclaimer, context - angst. spoilers & added theoretical assumptions (since this was written before the finished entirety of amphoreus arc). taken inspirations from his trailer. quite lengthy…

“The blasphemous shall burn in hell!”

“He shan’t be forgiven, shan’t be allowed to taint the land further!”

The ignorant cries of the fools barely bothered the man who’s sole drive only was for the sake of uncovering the truth. Anaxagoras, it was he who challenged the Titans of this land, the one bold enough to proclaim the falsehoods in their beliefs, the one to criticise their knowledge of the rulings of this world.

To him, those foolish enough to be blinded by inferiority over a higher power, could never uncover the truth of this world they lived in, where humans were ruled over by the twelve Titans of Amphoreus. Thus, he has developed the natural habit to block out all these ignorant fools away from hindering his search.

‘…What a waste of time.’ He scorned their useless chatters and gossip internally, thinking it would be better if they actually used their time for good. He couldn’t care less even when they reported his (in their words,) ‘blasphemous’ behaviours to Kephale’s believers and the authorities, yet he shut them up only for the sake of continuing his research.

Though, it did take him by mild surprise when you had echoed their words similarly one night—when you were next to him, pausing from reading through his scribbled notes to speak,

“Anaxagoras, don’t you think…this has gotten a bit too far…?”

His head whipped to glance at you with his red eyes squinted slightly in displeasure, offended by your audacity to even humour such a thought. It was the first time he actually felt something more than annoyance by the criticisms of others towards his actions. Coming from you, that had been supporting his ideas and helping him progress, he was irritated.

He thought you of all people would understand.

“…Too far? Are you insinuating something, (Y/n)?”

The unfamiliar feelings inside him boiled up from irritation to anger, facing with your unexpected betrayal. His hands slammed on the desk as the research papers flew about, veins popping in his arms while he curled his hands into fists. He spat out in anger, demanding clarification from your bold question when he saw the way your expression morphed from surprise to panic.

“Spit it out, (Y/n)! What are you trying to say? You’re doubting my—,” He cut himself to correct himself, “—no, our findings now?”

Seeing his reaction, you knew you had to clear the heavy air before even convincing him of your point of view. Sweat trickled down your skin in concern as your eyes shifted away to avoid his hardened gaze, a sign of your nervousness. This, however, only worsened Anaxa’s interpretation of your answer whilst he had strong judgemental bias.

“I didn’t mean to negate all our efforts, Anaxagoras, you know that. What I mean to say is…” You couldn’t bear to meet the scorn in his eyes and the hurt expression beneath his angry facade. “…To take it this far…I can’t simply agree to you carelessly throwing away your mortal body, if even for the sake of proving the soul transfer theory.”

He scoffed at your explanation, mistaking your concern for cowardice and insult. He reached for your robe collar, pulling you in with a maddened glint in his red eyes, his judgement clouded by your ‘betrayal’. His lips curled up in a sickened grin, chuckling as he scorned you.

“Ha, careless? Don’t insult me. Our research is the pinnacle of truth—I know for a fact, that this ‘death’ will finally move my conscious through the cycle! There is a sure reward, and that alone justify the risk, (Y/n)!”

Faced by the dramatic change in his usual stoicism, a shrill shiver ran down your spine to see him act out. His grip on your collar was tight enough that the fabric dug into the skin of your neck, nearly choking you. You were forced to see the angered craze in his gaze that now shone with disdain towards you instead of the usual warmth. No words could leave your quivering lips as your heart raced from both fear and concern, while you were forced to listen to his hurtful assumptions.

“And here I truly believed were different than those ignorant fools, but it seems you are just the same. Hell, you are worse than them. For at least those fools actually believe in their false prophecies with conviction, and yet here you are—Years of hypothesising and experiments until we can conclude with enough evidence that we are correct and you still pathetically doubt.”

Shoving your fear for a moment to defend yourself, you tried to calm him down, “A-Anaxagoras! That’s not it, that wasn’t my intention! I’m just…!” You couldn’t even tell him about your true feelings in the argument, since he cut you off coldly before the message could be conveyed.

“I’ve heard enough, (Y/n).” Releasing his grip on your collar with a harsh shove, you stumbled back on your feet as your breath hitched from surprise. His height towered over you as he observed you with a condescending expression, his glare mixed in with hurt from being in disagreement with you. “I should’ve known that I was correct from the start. The pursue of my beloved sister, it doesn’t concern you.”

He ended with a huff before turning on his heel, and you were met with his cold back facing you. Tears stung at your eyelids at being so misunderstood, your concern for his sanity and well-being overshadowed by his accusations. How could he? To lump you in the same category as those other scholars whom you hated just as much, those you hated because of your belief in him and his ideals. Yet even at his cruelty, you couldn’t bring yourself to hate him back, not when you saw the underlying pain beneath his facade.

And it tore you apart to be unable to save the scholar from his pain.

Months pass as Anaxagoras buried himself in his research, his sanity fleeting rapidly towards ruin while he kept perfecting his body—sculpting his skin and bones to be a perfect vessel to host a new soul. He was doing it for his sister, he convinced himself. To bring her back to life—even as Kephale’s followers tied him up at his ankles and wrists above the flames for execution, he was determined to follow through with his mission.

“Anaxagoras!” He heard your distraught cry from the benches, your body desperately pushing through the crowd of people cheering for his death. Arms flailed out as you begged them to call off the execution, with those pathetic tears streaming down your flushed cheeks. “He has done no wrong! Knowledge is free for all!”

He glanced at you from his restrained body above, his eyes still devoid of warmth for you after the ‘supposed’ betrayal. He couldn’t care less that you were defending him and pleading for his freedom, not when his research has built up to this point. The point where he will silence all these ignorant fools down, with his claim,

“This body…has long been tempered to ruin…And to prove that the Titans are inferior to mortals like us, I shall be the one to cheat death and prove the theorem of this world’s limbo!”

Blue flames enveloped him from his hollow chest—enveloping the tainted human body he possessed, burning it before the red flames casted beneath him could even reach the chains. He maintained his cocky smirk even as the smoke of the flames burned the remainder of his lungs, leaning back with his head falling to the side. In the drifting consciousness of his burning body, his hazy eyes landed on you for the last time in this life—seeing the way you screamed out for him, hands reached out in futile as those pretty tears stream down your cheeks. In those last moments, he finally noticed your face was overwhelmed with anguish rather than the contempt he had accused you of.

“Ana—xa—….!” The voices grew fainter as he felt the life dissipating out of his form, until all he saw was black in a long slumber.

But he was Anaxagoras, the blasphemer.

He awakens in the nether realm, where souls of the departed sway languidly through the grassy plains. He wasn’t like them, for he had casted away his mortal body for this tampered one that had managed to host his departed soul. From this sea of souls, he was sure he’d be able to find his departed sister’s from his cycle era, yet without a perfect vessel to host her rebirth, it was as good as nothing. His new goal was set; to rebirth his sister in an era where they both could live forward. To do that, he had to first conquer the art of transfusing a dead soul into a perfect living vessel.

And so he spent years, wandering the nether realm and passing through the changing cycles of Amphoreus with his memories conserved through alchemy.

“…Still…imperfect…” He ruined himself through trials of insanity—chasing that perfect vessel of creation of which he was just barely out of reach, every single time. And with each failure, with each shatter of test tube glasses on the floor in his lonely pursuit, even the great Anaxagoras couldn’t help but reminisce over what could have been.

Only now that his mind was clear, he finally understood why she was adamant on stopping the research short. Be it instinct or theories; perhaps she had predicted all along, how maddening this path was.

“…Tch, what a fool.” He directed his words no longer to the girl he had resented for the ‘betrayal’, but to himself. The haunting nightmares of her crying face just before his ‘first’ death like a constant reminder of his sin. It wrecks him, forcing him to feel that yearning urge to see you again.

If only…If only he had rethought it over, and maybe brought her with him through the ever-changing cycles. If only he had made time to understand her concerns. If only he had took the time to actually focus at the living girl too, instead of solely on his deceased sister.

For if he had just realised sooner of this lonely regret—perhaps he would have chosen to end it differently.

Yet he was Anaxagoras, the foolish.

#hsr anaxa #anaxagoras #honkai star rail #star rail #anaxa x reader #hsr x reader #hsr angst #hsr imagines #angst

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