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waywardnerd67 · 2 years ago

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Destroyer of Worlds

Title: Destroyer of Worlds Summary: He was the weapon to take down the corruption of superheroes. She was the only one who could wield him. Main Characters: Soldier Boy (Ben), Reader Pairing: Soldier Boy (Ben) x Reader Rating: E - Explicit Warnings: Angst/Fluff (if you squint)/Mind Control/Smut Prompt: “Don’t underestimate her. And don’t bet against her.” (Bold & Italic) Word Count: 4967 A/N: This is for @avanatural Follower Challenge

The Russians next to her were speaking their native language thinking she could not understand them. It was better they didn’t know she had spent the better part of two years fucking a Russian diplomat to get her where she was today and he happened to give her lessons in Russian.

(Y/N) played the studious, quiet, American scientist well. No one would suspect she was there for one reason and one reason only. Her eyes drifted to the cryo chamber that held her deepest desire within. She pushed her glasses up the bridge of her nose and adjusted her legs recrossing them from the ache building between them. Today was the day she had been waiting for since joining the Russians nearly fifteen years ago.

(Y/N) was the daughter of a low level superhero at Vought. She remembered going to the Tower and being in awe of all the superheroes. She admired their strength and integrity. Much like her father had been. She studied every superhero there ever was but one had captured her full attention and heart from the moment she saw him in an old movie about his life. He was everything she imagined a man should be. Handsome, charming, strong, a leader, a true man.

When she was old enough, she took a job at Vought in their gift shop. She eventually would work her way up to being the personal assistant to Stan Edgar while Vought paid for her to become a scientist. More than once, she had influenced Edgar in decisions about creating the perfect superhero. Compound V had been a good start, Temp V was dangerous but could be improved upon with the right subject. (Y/N) felt deep down there was only one superhero who was the key to everything they wanted.

When an opportunity to go to Russia to study what their scientists had discovered was something she had to fight for. In the end, she was going to do whatever it took to go. Now, she realized that she hadn’t needed to fight so hard to go because they were already going to exile her there just like they had done with America’s Superhero.

You know Dmitri said the American is a good fuck.

She tore her eyes away from the cryo chamber when they mentioned her and glanced at the two scientists at the table next to hers. She smiled sweetly at them before returning her gaze to the papers in front of her.

Dmitri is’t man enough to fuck her.

She swallowed the giggle trying to escape her lips. He was right, (Y/N) had approached the poor, shy, young Russian one late night. The table the two were sitting at was the exact spot their friend had bent her over and fucked her. Of course, she had to get herself off when the young man came nearly five minutes after being inside of her. It was good for his self-esteem and she needed to feel something other than her fingers inside of her. Plus, he was able to deliver an important message to Vought Tower for her.

Suddenly, there was a bunch of commotion from the hall outside the lab. Five people in worker’s uniforms walked in that were obviously not local. A small smile appeared on her lips as she realized who had walked in. The alarms began to go off and Russian guards began to fill the room. She ducked down beneath her table as a young American man came next to her.

“Oh my god! Oh my god! Please help me. They’ve held me here for so long.” Tears instantly started down her cheeks.

“We’ll help you, promise. Stay down.”

He looked up at his friends who were getting pinned down by the guards. She couldn’t help the eye roll that followed. Dumbass, rag-tag team of losers. She had been hoping when she leaked some information to Maeve that she would send someone a little more put together. (Y/N) saw a flash shoot out over her head much like Homelander and her heart nearly flatlined. Then she saw the obvious leader of this group getting shot and not being phased. His eyes glowed much like Homelander’s and then he shot a hot beam of energy from them.

“Holy shit.” She muttered.

“MM!” The young man yelled before disappearing before her eyes.

(Y/N) took the opportunity to get out of there and down the back hallway. She stopped by a nearby observation window where she could see everything but no one could see her. All the guards and the two scientists were dead. The team seemed to be chastising the leader and young man for having powers.

“Only last 24 hours. Break in case of an emergency, like this.”

His accent sent shivers down her body. (Y/N) bet he was great fuck. A man who would keep going until her legs were shaking and her voice hoarse from crying out his name. She watched tall, dark and handsome walk over to the cryo chamber and her heart began to race.

“Fuck me, he’s going to open it.” She whispered to herself watching him do exactly that.

Toxic gas billowed from the chamber as they all stared into it.

“Christ, Soldier Boy.”

(Y/N) gripped the edge of the window to keep her knees from buckling. Watching as thick fingers gripped the edge of the chamber and all her dreams stepped out. He was more beautiful than any movie or picture she had seen of him. The Russians had never allowed her to see him except in old experiment videos. So many nights she had snuck into the lab alone, watching those videos and getting herself off pressed against his chamber.

The floor beneath began to shake and from the center of Soldier Boy’s chest emitted a bright glow. She took cover hearing the explosion, debris flying in all directions and the guttural scream of the long forgotten superhero. She looked up through the window in time to see the aftermath and watched as he was walking towards the hall she was in. (Y/N) quickly made her way down towards the exit to wait for her destiny to come to her.

He approached cautiously, seeing her standing against the only exit.

“Move.” His raspy voice raised the hairs on the back of her neck.

“If you want out of this hellhole then I suggest you follow me.”

He straightened his body trying to be intimidating, “Move or I’ll move you.”

Her eyes traveled down his body. Every muscle was taut and hard as he strained to keep himself calm. She bit her lips seeing his cock, even soft was long and thick. She snapped her eyes back up to his seeing the darkness held deep within those beautiful olive irises.

“You could move me or kill me whichever. But that would be a colossal mistake. I have access to clothes, food, booze and a way back to where you really want to be.”

He scoffed, “Where’s that?”

“America. New York. Vought.”

His eyes widened, “Why the fuck would I want to go there? They betrayed me.”

“Exactly. I know all about what truly happened to you. A lot has changed since you were captured and you’re going to need some guidance. I can provide that.” She stepped toe to toe with him, “Like right now, we need to get the fuck out of here before Russian soldiers storm this place.”

Standing there, he was a good four to five inches taller than she was. A wall of pure strength that could snap her neck in an instance. He was the ultimate predator and she was hoping to be enticing enough to be his prey. Her heart skipped seeing the corner of his lip slightly curl upward. She had him.

“Lead the way.”

It had taken a couple of days to get passage back to the states and into New York without Vought knowing. Soldier Boy had remain quiet except for the stewardess he fucked in the lavatory making (Y/N) sick to her stomach with jealousy. When they had landed, he demanded to go to The Legend’s home.

“He’s retired and has nothing to do with Vought anymore. He sits in his penthouse suite snorting and drinking all day.” She said as they rode a cab to the old man’s penthouse apartment.

For the first time, Soldier Boy smiled, “Sounds like a great life to me. He has something I need. I could also use a little pick me up.”

She rolled her eyes as he huffed looking out his window.

“Don’t fucking judge me because you’re little Miss Virgin Mary. Get off your fucking high horse.”

She gritted her teeth trying to control the rage filling her veins. Taking a deep breath, she played into his whole pure image of her. She pushed a single tear down her cheek with a soft sniffle.

“Haven’t been a virgin since I was sixteen and I caught Homelander’s eye.”

She could see him looking back at her, “The blonde douchebag plastered everywhere?”

She nodded, keeping her eyes focused on her hands resting on her lap. Lacing her fingers together she squeezed them as tight as she could.

“I worked in the gift shop of Vought since my father was a low level superhero. Homelander was there for an event. He knew who I was because he knew my father. That made me irresistible.”

He scoffed, “Happens to the best of us. Plenty of times at events I would have women throwing themselves at me or one who particularly caught my attention.”

(Y/N) was aware of his conquests. Once more her stomach twisted with envy knowing all of them had what she wanted. She blew out a long breath trying to keep her jealousy from showing.

“Yeah, I wasn’t seeking his attention. That didn’t keep him from taking me into a storage closet and forcing himself on me.” She watched his fist clench, “I kept telling him I was a virgin and I wanted to wait for the right man.”

“He didn’t give a shit. Supes never do. Even America’s hero.”

She glanced over seeing him staring out his window, “Told me there was no better man than him, but I knew one man who was better than him. I had watched his movie on repeat until I wore it out. I studied every book ever written about him and how he had saved so many lives. I devoted my entire life to finding out the truth of how he disappeared knowing Vought’s story of him dying was bullshit.”

She turned, looking right at him as his bright eyes bored into hers. The best way to keep someone from penetrating your wall of lies is layering truth in between those lies. She allowed him to see this moment of truth in order to gain a little more trust. A small smile appeared on his lips and knew she had him.

“You think I’m a great man?” He scoffed, “You may be more fucked up than I am.”

His laughter sent waves of hot desire flowing over her. Being this close to him was starting to wear on her self-control. Squeezing her thighs together, she giggled softly for his amusement.

“That’s probably accurate. We’re here.”

The car stopped and they made their way to The Legend’s penthouse suite. The reunion had not been hearts and flowers. The Legend knew better than to fuck with Soldier Boy and when his eyes landed on her, he complied immediately. He knew better than to fuck with her as well.

“You know her?” Soldier Boy pointed to her, “She says I can trust her. Is that true?”

She narrowed her eyes with a silent warning. The Legend knocked back his drink and pulled out a little baggy with white powder in it.

“Don’t underestimate her. And don’t bet against her.” He bent over snorting a line of the drugs, “Whatever you want, she can get for you.”

Soldier Boy looked from the old man to her and back, “Fine. Now, I need to know where my team is.”

The Legend told him everything he knew about where the team members of Payback were. (Y/N) knew where he would go as The Legend told him where Crimson Countess was. When they left, (Y/N) told the driver her address to head too.

“That’s not where Crimson is at” He grunted.

“I know. You need to actually sleep and not run of pure adrenaline with a dash of cocaine. If we run into trouble then I need you at your best.”

He rolled his eyes, “Where are we going then?”

(Y/N) gave him a genuine smile, “My house outside the city and Vought’s peering eyes.”

The drive was nearly two hours long from the city. Soldier Boy had fallen asleep immediately and now was resting his head on her shoulder. (Y/N) ran her fingers through his hair moving it from his face. He sighed as her fingers went for a second pass through the silky, dark, strands. His hand snapped up, catching her wrist.

The lids of his eyes opened reveal darkened orbs staring up at her. Rage and desire swirled within them before he blinked showing no emotion at all.

“How much longer?” He grunted, sitting up to the other side of the car.

“Nearly there. I will get you set up in the downstairs suite. All I ask is that you don’t sneak out and go after Crimson by yourself.”

They were pulling onto the long driveway as Soldier Boy rolled down the window looking at her property. (Y/N) had made sure that the old farm that had been in her family for generations remained in her name during her time with the Russians. She had only lived in the house that had been newly built for a few months. She had no idea what she would be walking into, but the moment she saw it coming over the small hill she felt at home.

“Does anyone else live here?” His gruff voice pulled her back into the car.

She shook her head, “Only me and I haven’t been here in fifteen years.”

“Fuck.” He breathed as the car came to a stop, “The Russians had you for fifteen years.”

(Y/N) leaned forward to the driver, “Please go and pick up groceries. Make sure you get a few bottles of wine, a bottle whiskey and please pick up a standing order prescription from the pharmacy. Give them my name and you should have no issues.”

“Yes ma’am.”

She smiled at Soldier Boy before getting out of the car. He followed her in through the front door and it was as if nothing had changed for (Y/N). She could smell a fresh fire burning in the living room fireplace. Waves of apples and salted caramel flowed from room to room.

“Is there a fucking bakery in here?”

She laughed, “No. My favorite scent is caramel apples. If it bothers you I can make sure all the warmers are turned off.”

“It’s fine.” He smirks, “I like apples and caramel.”

“Let me show you where you’ll be staying.”

(Y/N) led him down the stairs to the guest suite. There was a California king bed with a mini bar and fridge. It was decorated in forest green and gold as the inspiration stepped over to the bed.

“There’s a master bathroom with anything you may need and I will have some clothes brought down to you.”

Soldier Boy sat on the bed running his hand through his long hair, “Why are you helping me?”

“We want the same things and in the end I think you’re the only one who can achieve that. If that means feeding you, clothing you, and finding you someone to fuck senseless then so be it. Say the word and you’ll have it.”

His eyes widened with possibilities, “Best bottle of whiskey and some weed is a good start.”

“The whiskey is on its way, but the weed will have to wait until tomorrow. However, something else is coming with the whiskey that I think will suffice.”

Soldier Boy walked up to her, “You’ve thought of everything haven’t you?”

She stood her ground confidently even as her knees trembled, “Yes I have. I’ll leave you to get cleaned up. I’ll have dinner sent down if you like or you can join me in a couple of hours.”

She walked up the stairs far enough to be out of sight but could still hear once he was in the shower. When the water started and she heard the door shut, (Y/N) made her way back down. She looked at the mirror above the sink getting a full view of the man beneath the water cascading down his body. The bathroom filled with the woodsy body wash as (Y/N) squeeze her thighs together.

Then a low groan echoed throughout the tiled walls. Watching the mirror closely she could see his head roll back against his shoulders as his large hand stroked himself. A deep moan sent shivers down her body and the familiar ache grew stronger.

“Fuck.” He grunted as his hand picking up the pace, “Fuck, fuck.”

(Y/N) was mesmerized by Soldier Boy jacking off. His muscles tensing, his hand pressed against the tiles as his other hand feverishly jerked off his long, thick cock. She found her own hand drifting down into the waistband of her pants. Her fingers rubbed her aching clit as another wave of curses flew from his lips.

He was close and so was she when their eyes connected for a single heartbeat in the mirror. Neither of them stopped until her body began to shake as her pleasure flooded her body.

“Ohhh… fuck.”

She moaned, watching as his jaw clenched and his body jerked forward. A loud, gravelly growl bounced off the walls as he came. She dipped her fingers into her wetness then pulled her hand from her pants. She brought her fingers to her mouth and licked them clean, enjoying Soldier Boy’s reaction. He kept slowly stroking himself as his jaw slacked.

(Y/N) turned around leaving the suite and making her way towards her own room. The driver was walking in as she was stepping into the kitchen.

“Please take the bottle of whiskey and pills downstairs and have Mitchell go down to give our guest a haircut.”

“As you wish.” He immediately walked downstairs.

(Y/N) stepped inside her room and finally allowed her muscles to unwind the coils of tension. The faint tingling of bliss fading as she laid down on her bed. Now the ball was in his court if he wanted to pursue her or not. She got up heading into her own bathroom to shower and tend to her own needs. She couldn’t help herself to glance at the door or mirror to see if Soldier Boy would be there. He never was and she dried herself off before walking naked into her closet.

She picked out her favorite dress, an olive green, halter sundress that was modest and sexy. (Y/N) braided her hair off to the side and took her contacts out, placing her black rimmed glasses over her eyes. Looking in the mirror she gave herself a nod of approval before turning around to see Soldier Boy leaning against the doorframe.

“I’m a little underdressed.” He chuckled.

“I think you look good. I don’t think there’s a single picture of you in civilian clothes. This is a nice change.”

Boy was it, as her eyes traveled the length of his body. Light gray sweatpants hung low on his narrow hips leaving very little to the imagination of what was held within them. His broad chest and shoulders were covered by a white tank and New York Giants jersey. His long hair and beard were trimmed up. Her hand twitching at her side to touch the silky locks.

“If you keep looking at me like that we won’t make it downstairs for dinner.”

She looked away bashfully dragging her bottom lip beneath her teeth, “Then I guess we should head downstairs. Did you find the whiskey and medicine to be to your liking?”

He stepped aside for her to pass by him. She brushed against him hearing the low groan rumbling in his chest.

“You did good kid. I missed bennies, it’s how we won D-Day, you know.”

(Y/N) stopped in her tracks clenching her jaw swallowing the bitter rage trying to fly out of her mouth from being called a kid. That’s when she felt a hot, firm body press against her back. His hands gripped her hips pulling her ass against his hard length.

“Two can play this game, but you’ll realize I’m better at it. But it’s fun to see you try to get a rise out of me.”

He let her go and pushed past her making his way down the hallway. (Y/N) took a deep breath trying to calm the frantic nerves buzzing in her stomach.

“Challenge accepted, Soldier Boy.” She whispered before following him to the kitchen.

The cook had prepared steaks, baked potatoes and salad for dinner. (Y/N) motioned to her to serve Soldier Boy first. She watched as his eyes traveled the older woman’s body, tilting his head to get a different view of her ass as she walked away. There was no reason now to play the bashful innocent woman. When his eyes met hers she continued to glare as the cook served her meal.

“Thank you. You can leave for the evening.” She reached out to the older woman smiling genuinely, “I appreciate you and the rest of the staff staying here for so long. You have done a marvelous job keeping everything perfect. Please tell the rest of the staff to take the night off and go home.”

“Yes ma’am. We’re glad to see you back home.”

(Y/N) arched an eyebrow at the curious look her superhero was giving her. She cut into her steak ignoring him for the moment. The tension between them was growing as they ate in silence. She would catch him staring at her and he would catch her watching him devour his food. When they were both done, she stood grabbing her plate then his. His hand grasped her wrist pulling her onto his lap as she set the plates on the table.

“As much as I love this little game we’re playing. I want to know what your real intentions are.”

“With what exactly? My vendetta against Vought or with you?” She asked, slipping her arm around his neck.

His eyes closed as her fingers stretched up into his hair, “Both.”

“Both answers are easy. Vought screwed over my father and in turn my family. I simply want to take out Edgar and I figured helping you get back at your team is a bonus.”

“And me?” His eyes were dark, shining with desire again.

“I want your help taking down Vought…” She paused, leaning in until her lips nearly brushed against his, “and I want you to fuck me.”

He chuckled as she leaned back, “You’re a little young for me?”

She laughed getting off his lap, “Sweetheart, the only women old enough for you are in graves. If you want that then I’ll take you to the nearest cemetery.”

“You have a smart mouth on you.”

(Y/N) knew she had him hooked now it was time to reel him in. She untied the top of her dress letting it drop as she unzipped it. His eyes slowly took her in, standing bare in front of him. She straddled his waist, running her hands beneath his jersey and rubbing herself against him.

“Yes, I do and it has many uses. I would love to show you, but if you think you can’t keep up old man then I guess I’ll go take care of myself.”

Soldier Boy snarled before picking her up with ease roughly dropping her on the table, “Fuck that, I’ll show you what this old man can do.”

He pushed his sweats down next to the jersey he nearly ripped from his body. As he pulled the tank over his head, (Y/N) rubbed herself gathering her arousal of them then sucking them cleaning.

“Mmm, I taste so good. You should taste me first before you fuck me.”

Watching Soldier Boy drop to his knees nearly made her cum as she rubbed herself slowly. The moment his tongue ran up her, (Y/N) arched her back and the all too familiar burn of pleasure flowed in her veins. Looking down, his eyes locked with hers beginning to glow a vibrant, neon green and she smiled.

“Such a good boy, eating me out. Fuck, need to feel your fingers deep inside me.”

He obeyed immediately, pushing two thick fingers in her. Running her fingers into his hair, she grinded herself against his face not caring if he needed to breathe or not.

“Keep going Ben, I’m so close to cumming. Oh god, Ben just like that.”

His fingers fucking her, his mouth working over her clit and his beard rubbing against her bare skin sent her over the edge. Crying out his real name as she squeezed her thighs around his head. When she let go of him, he was panting.

(Y/N) sat up keeping her legs spread for him, “Standing.”

Soldier Boy’s eyes were still glowing as her powers weaved into his mind. He followed her command looking slightly confused and taken back.

“Now Benjamin, I need you to fuck me nice and hard. I need you to cum inside of me as I’m cumming.”

She watched as he stroked his cock aligning himself with her. He pulled her ass to the edge of the table then pushed inside of her slowly until snapping his hips against her.

“Fuck!” She cried out, wrapping her arms around his neck, “Fuck me hard against the wall, Ben.”

He picked her up, wrapping her legs around his waist and went to the nearest wall pressing her back against it. He thrusted hard and deep inside of her. In all the times she had used her powers to control the minds of others, she had never enjoyed as much as at this moment. Her powers were rooted in connecting with the person and there was no greater emotional or physical connection than sex.

“Harder Ben… oh god, fuck me harder.”

He slammed into her and (Y/N) could feel the bruises forming already. She knew she was playing with fire asking the man with superhuman strength to fuck her hard. She needed to feel it though. She needed him to make her cum and she was so close.

“Like that Ben, oh fuck, I’m so close. Make me cum Benjamin. Fuck!”

Waves of overwhelming pleasure hit her and as he knocked her back against the wall hard.

“Fuck! Fuck! (Y/N)!” He cried out her name burying his head into her neck.

He stumbled backwards keeping a firm hold on her as he leaned against the table. His cock still inside of her as she took everything he had within her. His hands were trembling as he gripped beneath her ass keeping her in place. (Y/N) pressed her forehead against his.

“Look at me Ben.”

His eyes connected with hers and she could see the flecks of neon green within his olive ones. Her powers were flowing down her veins like lava and she rotated her hips against him. He groaned, immediately grinding himself against her.

“Such a good boy. Now, you’re going to carry me to my bedroom and we’re going to get cleaned up. Then you’re going to fuck me again.”

“Yes ma’am.” He carried her as she asked and followed every order she gave.

When exhaustion took over his body, (Y/N) picked up her cell phone hitting the only number saved within it.

“Hello dad, I have him.”

Mindstorm’s low chuckle came through, “Good girl, Temptress. You know what to do with him. Make sure he knows I had nothing to do with Vought’s plan and it was all Noir’s doing.”

“Yes sir.” She smiled, looking over at the man sleeping peacefully next to her, “Once I have him take out Edgar and everyone else in our way. Then… then I get what you promised?”

There was a long sigh, “Yes, once I have control over Vought then you and Soldier Boy can live happily ever after. You will never hear from me again.”

(Y/N) hung up the phone, snuggling up next to Ben. She ran her fingers through his hair and kissed his forehead.

“I’m sorry it has to be this way. Mindstorm is a mean fuck, but he’s still my dad. Once you use your new powers from the Russians to wipe out all the Supes at Vought tower then we can live a happy, honest life together.”

She wrapped his arm around her, “Hold me.”

He pulled her into his chest, sighing. She nuzzled her head against his chest allowing herself to tell the truth while he slept.

“My codename is Temptress and I can control your mind with a deep, personal connection. One day, I hope you’ll be able to love me as much as I do and then I won’t have to control your mind. Until then, you’ll be my weapon to wield. Starting with Vought then your backstabbing team and finally my father.”

She kissed his chest as he hugged her closer, “I love you Soldier Boy. Sweet dreams, my destroyer of worlds.”

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carmillatism · 1 year ago

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since ao3 is down: carmilla fic @drcarmillaappreciationweek

Sometimes A Mom Is Just A Goth Vampire Lesbian From Outer Space And That's Okay

For Dr. Carmilla Appreciation Week: Mom Monday

trigger warnings for implied/referenced child abuse and neglect, implied/referenced parental abuse, and light self-hatred

note: i will be posting this (and other fanfics for this week) on ao3 once it is up and working again. just don't want to wait any longer for this fic. first time posting a fic on tumblr as well, just so it's known.

fic under the cut

"So, how was your mother?"

"Oh, starting with the hard-hitting questions, huh?" She crosses her legs, then uncrosses them. She scooches around on the chair before giving up. She stares.

"I mean there's no other way to start it, is there? You didn't give me much to work with, so…" Carmilla narrows her eyes.

"Watch it. Just because you're giving me therapy, doesn't mean you get to be disrespectful." She tries to add a hint of humor to her voice because she knows she doesn't mean it. Really. …Well, she kind of does. It's weird. That's why she's in therapy.

She sighs before leaning back in her chair, folding into herself. "Well, I guess she was fine. She wasn't as bad as my father; that's for sure."

"I'm not going to ask you about your father as we aren't here for that, don't worry, but you said 'not as bad'. What does that mean?"

She sighs, frowning slightly. She really was going to divulge this information to a stranger then. "She wasn't actively bad, really. She just allowed so many things to pass. She never really tried to stop anyone from doing anything. She was so passive, so easily used by people who just wanted to hurt her- her kids- me. She wasn't good in that way."

"And that passive response can be just as bad as the people who actively hurt you." She cringes at that.

"I wouldn't say that…"

"Oh, okay. How come?"

She pauses, thinking about the question. Well, she did help her sometimes. …Sometimes. "She… um, well, she helped me on occasion. She taught me how to take care of myself, make food. She sometimes helped me with my studies."

"So, the bare minimum?" The question is innocent and she knows they're trying to help, but that statement snaps something in her. The very fragile dam of emotions she built about that topic crumbles. It was never that strong anyways.

She always knew what her mother did wasn't the best. That was why she was here for the Gods' sake. But she hadn't ever thought about it in that way. Her mom had barely done the bare minimum and yet she still praised her so much… She did the bare minimum and much worse so often that Carmilla just felt like she had to praise her just for doing something… kind, that she should do. She praised her for doing what all mothers should do for their children.

She couldn't stop it. She felt tears beginning to swell in her eyes. A few started to leak out. She grabbed a few tissues from the tissue box laying on the table next to her.

"I never really thought about it in that way, but… yes. If that. She did the bare minimum sometimes, and other times- most times- she didn't. She just let me get hurt and let my father hurt me with not a care in the world. And she never really apologized, more so made it about herself than anything else. She didn't focus on me that much, and if she did, it was because I messed up somehow."

Her therapist looks down at their paper before scribbling on a pad resting in their lap. Tears are streaming down her face, but she's surprisingly calm. It was almost relieving to get this out.

"And this… you mentioned that you wanted to talk about being a mom…?" Her head perks up at that and she stares at them for a moment. Did she write that down…? Oh. Right. Curse her past, emotionally volatile self.

"Oh, I guess. It's just I was wondering about how I am as a mother. I try to help a lot; I do. But sometimes it just doesn't come out right. I feel like I make situations worse when I try to help." She cringes and looks down at her hands folded in her lap.

"And what do you do to help them?"

She thinks for a second. There was a lot, she thought. Maybe… too much? She should probably mention the things she did that usually made her Mechanisms worse, though.

"Well, a lot of times I would think their mechanisms were acting up and making them feel bad, so I'd take them to the lab and get them the help they needed."

Her therapist frowns, writing something down on their paper. She closes her eyes for a moment, breathing in deeply. This is a safe space for her to talk about herself. She won't be judged. …But even so, she couldn't stop herself from judging her own words that came from out of her mouth.

Her therapist looks down at their clipboard, tapping their pen against it, thinking. "And what did you do to help?"

She frowns, thinks. Was it really helping? Did she actually help them? Or was what she did something that only made them worse? "I would usually perform surgery on them…" Her therapist seems to have to hold back a reaction. "I'd get to the root of the problem, their mechanism, and make sure it was all up to date and working well."

Her therapist hums thoughtfully, and she stiffens before relaxing. Her therapist leans a bit forward, chin in hand. "And were their… mechanisms really the problem?"

She stops at that. Were they? She had always thought that it had to have been something with the mechanisms that were making them feel bad. They usually worked just fine, but they were still experimental tech that hadn't been used before. She just always assumed that it had to be that. The mechanisms are the clear reason, so what else could it be?

"I mean, yeah." She stops. Well, actually, a lot of times when she'd knock them out, get into their mechanism, they would be just fine, running smoothly. So if it wasn't the mechanism then what was it?

The therapist takes her silence as a cue to add, "Did there seem to be a common throughline for why they needed help? What signs were there?

"Well… they seemed okay at first. Usually right after they were mechanized there was understandable fear and confusion, but they'd soon come to find a routine. They grew comfortable on the ship. I'd take them in to check on them, their mechanisms. I think it was only after that they seemed to get worse. Did I scare them about their mechanisms too much? Did I make them worried? They always seemed so scared and worried, sometimes defensive."

Her therapist just continued to look at her, a sad look on their face. Did she say something wrong? No. No. The therapist wouldn't judge her for that. She was just judging herself too harshly.

"I mean they would usually be fine before I took them back. I'd watch them from the other room, and they would seem fine. They would talk, play games and music, and destroy stuff sometimes." She thinks fondly about those memories before continuing. "And then when I would walk into the room with the news that I needed to double check their mechanism, that's when they would get scared. They'd always back away, beg me not to take them back. I can't believe I scared them so much about their own mechanisms." She looks up to the therapist to see if they have anything to add. They just stare at her before motioning for her to continue. She does. "But… well, even when I didn't bring up surgeries, treatment, or their mechanisms, they would get scared like that often. Almost all the time. It was always when…"

Her hand flies to her mouth before she can utter the next part. A noise between a strangled yell and a cry parts her lips and she instinctively pushes her hand harder against her mouth to stop it from getting out.

Her therapist smiles sadly, nodding just slightly.

She… was the problem. They were always scared when she walked in. They were always fine right before. They always got scared when she entered. They were scared of… her.

That… she can't believe she could do something like that, make her own kids so scared of her. That was… insane. She thinks morbidly to herself that it's almost as insane as making people immortal. It was insane just as much as it was true. Her therapist had only confirmed it.

"How could I… How did I never realize?"

Her therapist looks at her hard for a moment, and she thinks she can truly see them for the first time. She's actually focused on who they are. They're a real, living person that she's just spilt her guts to. "People can get stuck in their own head sometimes. They think what they're doing is the right thing because that's all they've ever known." Tissues barely made a dent in the tears streaming down her face. They were silent, however. Acceptance could hurt just as much as any pain. "You can think you're doing the right thing, but the right thing for one person can be the wrong thing for another. Kind of like the opposite version of 'one's man treasure can be another man's trash'."

So that's why they always seemed so scared. It was her. They were scared of her. She thought she was helping them with those surgeries, with mechanizing them in the first place, but she wasn't… She had never even thought she could be the problem.

"How could I be so bad…?" Her body was a coiled wire. A coiled wire, ready to be let go and lash out at anything and everything. But, well, not anything nor everything. She just wanted to lash out at herself.

How could she fix this? This wasn't something you fixed with a handsaw, anesthetic, and some morphine.

"It's hard. It's hard to know what you're doing, especially when you never had a good example to begin with." Oh. Oh that- That makes sense. "What you did was bad-" She cringes at that but nods. It was. "-but bad things happen and people do those bad things. But that doesn't always make them bad people. Even if they were once bad, they don't have to stay that way. It's not up to you to decide if they forgive you, but you can, either way, decide to be a better person." Oh. That was nice. She… She could be better. She had all of eternity to make things better. She could do that. She could, at least, make things better than they once were. That was a promise.

"I… Thank you. Thank you very much."

Her therapist nods. "Of course. It will take time, but you can become better. You can do it for them. Just… give them time and space right now. Rushing into it will just make things worse. And… don't be scared to reach out to help on how to become better. People are working every day to better themselves. I'm sure there's many people who would respect your endeavors and could provide advice. People do fucked up things, but that doesn't have to mean they're fucked up people."

That was… Maybe she understood why people went to therapy.

Her tears had stopped rolling, thankfully having stopped before she got to the end of the tissue box. She was… glad she went here. It was a lot to hear that she hadn't been as good a mother as she had thought she tried to be, but it was nice to have confirmation that she could get better. She could do better. So much better. She could be a better mom.

She smiles and nods at her therapist and they smile back.

And… since the session was coming to a close, she could ask the therapist a question. Maybe for a little more comfort. Mostly just because she was interested. Damn that cat curiosity killed.

"Do you think the mechanisms see me as their mom?"

The therapist thinks for a second. Yeah. From what I know, I would say so." They stop, then, contemplating something. "I don't think of you as my mom, though." Oh, WHAT? Come the fuck on.

She frowns before arching a brow at that, staring him down. "...Marius, now, why would you say that?"

Marius shifts in his seat uncomfortable, clipboard still in hand, but he has stopped tapping his hand. Carmilla laughs to herself and thinks they're more weary of the gun they have on their hip, now.

"Well, I mean, you just really didn't make me like the rest, you know? You didn't make Tim, Raph or me." Marius looks at her and Carmilla looks anywhere but him, just to rile him up some more.

She looks to her left then right before pursing her lips at him, looking slightly disappointed. Marius sighs and runs a hand through his hair. They seem to want to throw their hands up in the air, before thinking better of it.

"Doc, come on. You're more like a family friend than anyone else. You're like someone who pops in sometimes to see what's going on." Carmilla feigns anger at that, and Marius sighs even deeper this time, resting their head against their hand.

"Oh, so I'm just a family friend, am I? I make almost all of you, and I'm just a family friend. I see how it is, Marius." She hangs her head downcast and sniffles a bit for emphasis.

Marius closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose in deep thought. They open their eyes again, and level a stare at Carmilla. "Carmilla, it's just that Raph was more the one that made me and I still don't know you that well. Like, the others are definitely your kids, but I'm- we're- just not." Carmilla notices that whilst exasperated, he doesn't seem to be stressed, moreso playing along with her. But either way, it is nice to hear where the two of them stood in reference to her. She still didn't know the two that well.

"That's docteur to you, Marius." Marius gives an exasperated sound before finally throwing his hands in the air, clipboard flying to the floor. "And, I mean, would you consider Raphaella your mom?"

"What? No!" Marius' face has turned into a grimace. He looks somewhat sick.

Carmilla hides a smile, trying to keep the conversation as serious as possible. She arches a suspicious eyebrow. "Well, then, being made by someone obviously doesn't make them your mom."

"Well-" She cuts them off.

"So me creating you obviously doesn't matter here. I think it should be more about the fact that I take care of all of you and make sure your mechanisms are working just fine. Plus, I cook for you and help you when you're feeling down. And! I do that all in a motherly way." Carmilla looks proud of herself. Marius looks… confused. "So why are you so hesitant to call me mom when it's clear that's what I am to you?" She was actually a bit curious at the answer.

"Hey! This was supposed to be a therapy session for you, not me! Also, wouldn't this break some type of rule in therapy if I was treating my mom since you 'are' my mom?" He's really against calling her his mom. Interesting. Either way, Carmilla isn't worried. She'll make them see she's their mom soon.

"You're not an actual therapist, Marius. If you were, you wouldn't be giving out therapy on a ship in the middle of nowhere. You'd have a license and some of your therapy sessions wouldn't include se-"

"Hey! Low blow! You don't always need a license from some big industry to be able to do something." He's red in the face but laughing good-naturedly, and Carmilla allows herself a giggle.

"You quite literally need a license to be a therapist, Marius." Marius rolls their eyes at that.

"Oh, well, I guess that means you aren't a doctor anymore because your license surely has been taken away after breaking the hippocratic oath so many times."

Carmilla's mouth drops open and she has to stop herself from blurting out a laugh. Yeah, she could get used to this Marius kid.

"Oh, Marius, you're grounded for like 3 years now."

Now it's time for Marius' jaw to drop. He stares at her, bug eyed. "You literally can't do that! You're not my mom!"

"You may not see me as your mom, Marius, but that doesn't make me any less a mom in general, so I can most definitely ground you."

"How can you even ground me on a ship, light-years away from any planet?" Marius actually looks somewhat worried.

She thinks on that for a second and then says, "You're going to be stuck in your room for 3 years, then."

"TIM!"

Dr. Carmilla glares at Marius, tapping her foot against the floor. Of course Marius has to try and use someone else to support his bullshit claim. Can't back it up on his own. She hears Tim running towards them and rolls her eyes when she sees Tim pop his head in through the door frame.

"Uh, what's up?" She asks, before looking between Dr. Carmilla sitting in an armchair and Marius holding a clipboard, glasses on his forehead, and wearing clothes that seem more business casual than his normal outfit. This was some type of therapy session then. Tim looks behind him before looking back in the room, furrowing his brows and squinting slightly. "...If you're having a therapy session, I can just… leave…" She starts backing up, seeming to not want any part in whatever Carmilla and Marius were doing.

Marius holds up a hand out to stop Tim. "No, no, nope. The therapy session is over and I need to ask you a question." Carmila sighs, looking between Tim and Marius. Marius always had to cause a scene (which was another reason why they were her kid).

Tim comes back to the door frame, but steps a bit back and out of the way, apparently scared of what he's about to be asked. Marius would either want her to come practice some type of fucked up form of therapy, or pretend he was a Baron. Which Marius really seemed to think he was even though it was obvious to Tim that Marius didn't even know where Britain was in the first place. And Carmilla, she would probably just stare at her eyes. For a long time. A long long time.

"Uh, ask away, then-"

Marius barely allows Tim to get their sentence out before asking, "Would you say Dr. Carmilla is my mom?"

Whatever she was expecting, that was not it. Why are they wondering about the schematics of moms…? Why couldn't they just be normal and murder people? Why talk when you can… oh, she doesn't know, explode a couple planets.

"Tim." Her head snaps to Marius and her goggles zoom in on their face. He looks… serious? Well, as serious as Marius could be.

"I mean I don't really know how to answer that-"

"Tim, just answer their question so this conversation can end." Carmilla just stares at him, tired.

"Uh, well, probably not, then." Carmilla exclaims and Tim cuts her off before she can say anything. "I mean! You didn't really make him nor have you been around him for that long, so…" Tim stops, thinking for a moment, tapping their chin for added effect. "I guess you're more like a stepmother."

"A STEPMOTHER?" Carmilla yells and Tim shrugs. Marius is laughing, doubled over.

"You know, she has a point, Doc." Marius says through tears of laughter.

"A POINT? I'LL SHOW YOU A POINT, MARIUS VON RAUM-"

"HEY. CAN YOU GUYS SHUT IT? SOME PEOPLE ARE TRYING TO GET AN OLD-ASS TV THEY LOOTED TO WORK PROPERLY." Jonny's muffled yells can be heard from the common rooms.

They all shut up, looking between each other, barely keeping back laughs. And then they're all in hysterics: cackling, sobbing, hiccupping, rolling over themselves as they try to gain any semblance of control over their bodies. But they just can't stop, the absurdity of the conversation– the situation– making them lose it.

And Carmilla, there, in that moment, as she's shaking from laughing so hard, realizes something. Maybe Mom was less about the title, itself, and more about the experience the word describes.

#dr. carmilla appreciation week #dr. carmilla #the mechanisms #marius von raum #gunpowder tim #mom monday #fanfic #writing #short story #tw implied child abuse #tw implied child neglect #tw parental abuse #tw self-hatred #therapy session fic #jonny d'ville

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offdacabsav2 · 2 years ago

Text

Requiem

He ripped his sword from her chest. Blood trickled from the blade’s scorched edge. Crimson leaked out of a long cut across his forehead. White and gold tainted by charred black and liquid red.

The Maiden’s final expression had been one of horror. Dried tears remain dormant. A red sash tied around her throat, incarcerating her to a jutting piece of metal.

Even now, she infuriated him. He wanted to stab her again and again and again and again until she was an unrecognizable mound of flesh.

Her cowardly, childlike terror made him shake in rage.

But… it didn’t matter.

Nothing mattered anymore.

Raggedly, he clawed at oxygen, trying to force it into his lungs. The knight stumbled backwards and fell to his knees.

His mind should be racing, should be panicking, but he wasn’t. No, only two voices reached his bleeding ears.

Everyone’s gone.

We won.

The longer his eyes lingered on the growing puddle of blood reaching for him, the closer he slipped.

It didn’t matter.

His scream built deep in his soul. A guttural, shaky cry of torment. It shaped into sobs. His chest heaved violently, surrounded by his friends.

Burying them was torture. Pure hell.

It hurt.

God, it hurt.

It hurt so bad that his physical wounds went numb and all that remained was the crushing emptiness.

His final straw… Weiss.

Her cold, beautiful face… pale. He thought if he cried hard enough the universe would pity him and somehow, someway… bring them back.

Each excruciating toss of the shovel, each layer slowly sealing her body forever.

And he prayed he went with them, that he could join her in eternity.

He shut her eyes permanently with gentle hands.

Their graves were marked. In order. By team.

‘Heroes of Remnant.’ That’s what the carving in the oak read.

It cradled them, sheltered their souls. Large and full of life.

The sun soaked him in warmth. It’s counterpart fell below the horizon, making way for a new day.

He sat alone by the cliff, watching a miracle color the sky in cool yellow. If one studied him, they could tell no difference between his gaze and a corpses gaze.

Wind caressed the field of plush, emerald grass, weaving in between blades and branches, tenderly dancing with nature.

Below him, crystal blue waves washed over sand, overtaking the shore as it the tide came in.

He closed his eyes and felt…

Alone.

“Cleanup efforts continue as more injured and deceased are unearthed from debris. The death toll climbs every day, now reaching 200 with 500 more missing. But, today, a discovery was made. Nine named graves and a message: ‘Heroes of Remnant’. These heroes were the members of huntsman teams RWBY and RENO. Heroes… valiant and courageous… All of us, everyone; we should be thankful brave souls such as those men and women gave up their years, so we could live out ours. There is a missing marker, however. Jaune Arc is noticeably absent. Authorities mark him MIA and plan to begin searching in two weeks.”

Two years later.

A cloaked, bearded figure stands atop a hill overlooking Vale. Cranes and maintenance crews rebuild the city brick-by-brick. Wooden structures towering like skyscrapers, fields of rubble cleared in one fell swoop. Past the new buildings and heavy machinery, proudly displayed for passing travelers paying their respects… murals.

Decorated in ornate designs. Flowers cloaking the courtyard around their dirt beds. A rainbow assortment.

Pictures of the fallen behind their tombs.

The figure bent down to removed topsoil and placed his remembrances. A blooming memory for each. He looked on with a hard gaze and straight mouth.

In his hand, an edelweiss. Full of life and compassion. Strong, regal, beautiful.

Pale as the winter landscape.

His eyes glistened as the sun set. He placed her gently, curling his finger around a petal for the last time.

The figure allowed himself a solemn, ghostly smile.

And he left.

#rwby whiteknight #rwby volume 9 #white knight #jaune x weiss #jaune arc #Wanted to write a depressing ending cause that would go hard #Weiss Schnee x Jaune arc #jaune arc x weiss schnee

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lostonehero · 6 months ago

Text

More au of an au

"How did you meet my mother." Oscar's question was innocent enough after explaining he accidently telaported to the other universe Kayne can't go to.

A flash of fire and black eyes, and suddenly, he was back on a bloody battlefield. White feathers splattered in golden blood, and a man stands in the center. He was tall, muscular, and very not human. Three pairs of wings stretched from his back, a long tail stained in gold flicked behind them, and they had two pairs of horns on their head with a bright blue fire on each horn. His ears were pointed and eyes black as coal. Teeth sharper then a blade and tongue which was forked. Fur covered his body, only leaving his chest and stomach bare. Gold leaked from their mouths, and it burned against their skin. He held up his blade as Kayne approached. His voice was deep, and a human tongue Kayne never bothered to learn came from him.

Kayne flicked his fingers to destroy the interesting creatures, but nothing happened. He didn't know what the man said, but he had a blade in his guts before he vanished from the creature.

Kayne blinks, feeling something wet drip from his eyes, and his hand rests on his stomach. "I... uh..." He wants to hold onto the memory, but it trickled away like sand. "It was a battlefield, I think. I tried to kill her...no him at the time, but my powers had no effect. He stabbed me, and I ran away. I don't... I didn't understand his language because I didn't care to learn any human language at that time." He can feel himself smile. "He was the first ever creature to actually stab me. I was hooked before I even knew the blade was in my stomach." He has a dreamy look in his eyes.

Oscar pulls Kayne into a hug. "Sorry I made you cry."

"I'm crying?" Kayne reached to his face while in a hug, and he saw the pinkish hue of his tears. "I should try the seal again... uh let me know when little other you is visiting." He vanishes.

Oscar sighs. "Love you too."

.....

"What are you doing?" John asked first before he described the scene to Arthur.

Oscar looks up from the floor where a pentagram is painted in blood he got from Dennis. "Summoning the devil."

Arthur raised his brow. "Why?"

"Maybe I can break the barriers sealing off other realms if I try. I uh... I really don't know what I'm doing." Oscar looks embarrassed. "I just want to help."

Arthur smiles softly. "Do you need any help?"

"We can help! Arthur is very good bait." John exclaims.

Arthur sighs, pinching his brow. "John..."

Oscar smiles softly. "Thank you. Um, well, I know Latin and the incantation, so I'm going to try."

"Do you want me to stand in the circle?" Arthur tilted his head.

"You really probably shouldn't." Oscar takes a breath. "Dennis gave me enough to try different ways, so, um, let me try." He begins to chant, and a bright white light fills the room, and he is left on the floor bandages burning, and he's whimpering in pain as he curls up on the floor.

"Oscar!" Arthur rushed over to the floor. He can smell burnt flesh, and even though John was still blinded by the sudden flash, he didn't need it to realize what had happened. "Oscar, are you there? Say something, please."

Oscar groans and coughs deeply, and a mumbles falls from his lips along with black thick smoke. It sounds as if he was missing a tongue. He reached out to touch Arthur's hand.

A soft angelic voice laughs. "To think some filthy demon brake the barrier trapping us before hell. I should thank you." He had blonde hair and blue eyes and glowed. "Should have killed you with my mere presence, you... you... you're Lucifer's son." The confidence and boasting died as did the glowing as he pulled Arthur away and stared down at Oscar.

Oscar rolled to his side, trying to get up. He still couldn't talk, and smoke poured from his lips as he coughed and hacked.

The blonde man reached out and helped Oscar up. "You're stubborn like him... her... doesn't matter." The man seems to be studying Oscar eyes cataloging every scar on his exposed skin as his clothes burned away. He can recognize the burns of crosses, and he knew they were done on purpose. He hefts Oscar on his back. "Alright, come on, I'm sure you have someplace soft here."

Arthur follows behind. "What are you doing?"

"Who are you?" John growled.

The man continues up the stairs. "I am Micheal, I'm an archangel and brother to Lucifer. And to what I'm doing is getting this boy to a bed or a nest I honestly don't know how he was raised but I know for certain Lucifer didn't raise him the gates are still sealed."

.....

Micheal kept an eye on Oscar, who was out cold on the couch. He was in the recliner and looked to be in deep thought. "Did you do this to him?"

Arthur nearly jumped. "We- "

"Unlike you in your perfect little heaven, some of us had to deal with the consequences of a disaster." A woman Arthur knew to be Lilith spoke. "I could smell your wretched scent from anywhere, Micheal." She narrows her gaze at the golden cross in his hands. "And what do you plan to do with that?"

"It was supposed to be a gift, Lucifer requested it so Oscar won't be forced into a contract too young. Never had a chance to give it to old Lucy." Micheal holds the cross to his chest. "As much as I hate my sister, her son was not part of our conflict. Who harmed him?"

Lilith sighs. "He was just turning 5 when everything went bad to be simple with it. All I really know is that my own memory was suppressed along with Hastur's and even Nerophropte own mind. Oscar was sent back over 20 years, and he was taken into an orphanage."

"A church." Micheal grits his teeth.

"That is correct." Lilith frowns. "Everyone who wasn't trapped, became stuck. We don't have our realms anymore to access. Well, you angels do. Poor boy was probably just trying to see his mother and accidently opened the gates to heaven." She sighs deeply. "Can you believe he was a priest for a long time. I wish it didn't take me this long to remember him."

"What about Nerophropte?" Micheal tightens his grip on the cross.

"It's only been a year since he managed to really recall anything about his own son. He goes by Kayne now. His memories are still fractured, and he is trying, but he isn't the same creature either of us once knew." Lilith waves her hand. "Arthur darling, could you please go warn Charlie and Dennis before they return."

Arthur nods quickly before fleeing the room with John's guidance.

Lilith summons a blanket over Oscar. She takes the opposite recliner. "So the heaven gates are open again, and you choose to look over a nephew you refused to acknowledge."

Micheal purposely looked away. "Why is he so small? Why is he literred in scars? Why did he look so scared? He's supposed to be one of the most powerful creatures based on his lineage alone. He's so frail." He swallows. "I have never hated Lucifer enough to wish this upon their kin."

"So there is actual kindness in there." Lilith frowns and leans back. "This should have never happened. I even pity Nerophropte for this horrible tragedy." She brushes her hair out of her face. "Neither of them got to watch their boy grow up."

Oscar groaned from the couch, pulling both from their civil conversation. He takes a breath, spitting up a black ashen sludge. He makes a face as he sticks out his new tongue, which is forked. He reaches for his crosses, but they were all gone. "Where... where are they."

"I removed them." Micheal's frown deepens. "You can't heal properly with them on even if you are only half. Didn't anyone teach you that?"

Oscar flinched and curled up on the couch, hiding his face. "I-i, I'm sorry." He shudders and uses his wings to hide his body. Even the flame on his horns seemed to vanish. He was shaking as if he was terrified.

"No kid..." Micheal stops with a glare from Lilith.

"Oscar, do you know where you are?" Lilith's voice was calm eeriely so.

Oscar curled tighter in himself. He whimpered and mumbled the lords prayer in Latin, burning his tongue and causing smoke to pour from his mouth.

Micheal got up suddenly, and Lilith grabbed him. "You're supposed to be his guardian! Why the fuck are you letting this happen?"

"Micheal." Lilith growled. "What kind of abuse do you think a demon would face growing up as an orphan in a church?"

Micheal pulled away as if pieces were clicking together to form a picture that made him sick. "He's a fucking kid! Children are innocent, no matter their blood. For fuck sake even we have standards you like to point out we don't but even we draw a line at children." He turns away. "He has a mate marking you demons get. Where is his mate?"

"A man named Dennis Collins, Irish accent majority muscle, shorter than Oscar, has a beard and carries piano wire in his pocket." Lilith waves her hand. "Micheal, he will come here without our interference. He knows when Oscar is hurt."

"He's under contract... no he's..."

"His contract is fulfilled. Oscar owns him, and it's grown as a feedback loop. It's not entirely fully a mate bond, but stronger." Lilith pauses as she hears the front door slam open and shut and heavy boots trude inside. "Dennis."

A shorter man muscular, blue eyes and make you feel lost in the ocean and a short black beard to match his short black hair. He had a splattering of freckles on his face, and he was scowling. "Lilith."

"He tried to help Nerophropte open the gates of hell remove the barrier, but I assume due to the heritage of madness, he removed the barrier to heaven." Micheal stops and sighs, holding out a golden cross. "Do not allow him to wear this until he is healed." He vanishes leaving a pile of white feathers.

Lilith shakes her head. "He thinks he's back in the church as a child. He is reciting the lords prayer and needs someone to ground him."

Dennis grunts in acknowledgment and picks up Oscar in his arms. "Come on, my symphony, it's time to head to bed, and I'm going to tell you all about the garden that Hastur wants to plan even though it's fall nearing winter."

Oscar doesn't respond, but he stops praying.

.......

"You're my other daddy." A young boy stares up at Kayne.

"And you're little Oscar." Kayne smiles floating down.

"Where's the other me?" Little Oscar frowns.

Kayne strains a smile. After a rush of an explanation from Arthur, he knew he wanted to blame Micheal, but he knew better and didn't know why he shouldn't. "My Oscar is resting, he got hurt and needs time to recover."

"But...." Little Oscar looked close to crying. "But my mommy wanted to talk to him. I..." He stops as Kayne picks him up.

Kayne had a slight grimace through his smile as a headache threatened to break his mind. Holding the younger version of his son felt cathartic, like something slotted into place, and it made him yern for his own boy in his arms no matter how big he was. "It's not your fault."

Little Oscar reached up and touched Kayne's face. "Why are you crying?"

"Am I crying?" Kayne pauses and sighs. "My mind is broken, and I'm trying to fix it."

"Why?"

"I can't remember why, but I did verrrry bad things after it was broken. I forgot about you... my version of you and Lucifer. My memories are still fragmented. Trying to pull them together hurts, but it's working. I like to think it's working." Kayne smiles even through his tears.

Little Oscar puffs out his cheeks. "I don't know how to fix that."

"It's not your job to fix." Kayne hums softly, rocking little Oscar in his arms.

"Can I see the other me yet?"

Kayne laughs. "Come back another day. Tell Lucy a days rest will do him good."

Little Oscar huffs but vanishes.

Kayne wiped his face. "I'll wait here."

.....

"Didn't think you slept." Dennis sips his coffee.

"I don't sleep." Kayne lazily floats over. "Merely was thinking, Butcher."

Dennis raised a brow and sighed. He takes another sip before pausing. "You're early, little guy."

Big doe eyes stared up at Dennis, then to Kayne. "Is big me up yet? Mommy wants to ask him about...um... winter? She was being weird."

Dennis snorts, nearly spitting out his coffee.

Kayne thinned his lips, staring down at little Oscar. He knew exactly what they meant, and oh, just because their version of Oscar is young doesn't mean it's not a concern. "I'll go ask Oscar if he's ok to talk."

"Talk?" Oscar yawns, stepping into the living room. He was in just his boxers. His crosses were nowhere to be found he was rubbing his eye to try to wake up. "When did you get here, Kayne?"

Little Oscar had stars in his eyes. "Am I gonna get cool horns like you? Is the fire warm? You get more fur, that's so cool. I like your tail. You are getting a second pair of wings. I want a second pair. Mommy has three pairs of wings. You have a forked tongue! Daddy talks about Mommy's, but he says I'm too young to understand." He continues to ramble poking at every part on the older him that he thought was amazing.

Dennis looked close to losing it, laughing. "How about you let Oscar wake up a bit more?"

"But he's soooo cool." Little Oscar huffs as Kayne picks him up.

"Alright, little ball of entropy, give my boy some room." Kayne breaks out in a wide smile watching his boy's flames grow bright, and his face heats up a deep dark red.

Oscar swallows. "I uh... thank you." He wrings his hands. "What brings you here? Sorry I wasn't about yesterday."

"Mom was weird and wanted to ask you about winter. It's only autumn, dunno why she was being weird." Little Oscar jumps out of Kayne's grasp and points at Oscar feet and, more importantly, his heels where bone spurs come out for 3 inches. "Doe that make it feel like you're wearing weird girl shoes?"

Oscar blinks, staring at his younger alternate self. "No? I can't wear shoes like this." He pauses and hums for a moment. "It is almost winter she's probably asking about o- my... oh.... OH." The flame on his horns erupts again, causing Dennis to laugh. "Yeah... yeah, I'll come by to talk. Let me get my robe."

Kayne holds out a bright red robe. "Have fun tell the other me hello, and I want to talk."

Oscar grabs it glares at Dennis. "You're on the couch tonight."

Dennis snickers. "Aye, alright, I deserve that."

Oscar sighs and vanishes.

Kayne sighs. "Are you going to follow little entropy?"

Little Oscar looked up at Kayne. "No, it's gonna be dumb adult talking." He frowns. "I wanna hang out with big me he looks so cool. When will I look that cool?"

"Puberty most likely." Kayne sinks down. "My son here is a bit stunted, so his body is playing catch up. You'll get your stuff before he does."

"Stunted? I don't know what that means." Little Oscar frowns. "Did he get hurt?"

"He did." Kayne frowns. "I wasn't myself. I couldn't help him." He gasps as little Oscar tugs his hair.

"Other daddy isn't allowed to be sad." Little Oscar pouts. "Mr. Collins!"

"Out of my line of expertise, boyo." Dennis hums. "I can do breakfast however."

"Can I have what big me likes?"

Dennis chuckles. "Yeah, I can do that."

Kayne follows behind the two even though he won't eat.

.......

Oscar wraps his robe around him, greatly regretting not getting dressed beforehand. He was still sore, and Dennis didn't let him touch that new cross, which he guessed he understood. He just doesn't know how to manifest new clothing, and mending clothes was harder due to the spines on his back along with the wings and horns. He sighs as he knocks gently on the door in front of him. This was not a place on earth, but hell, a compromise in a sense.

The door swung open, and Oscar stumbled back. "Oh, my apologies. I expected you to just appear inside." The woman smiles and motions for him to come inside. "Interesting choice of outfit."

Oscar swallows. "It's early..."

"I'm merely teasing you, I know it's early." Lucifer smiles as Oscar enters. "I may have panicked earlier. Seeing you has got me thinking about my versions of you, and well, I have to know. Your father, and I'm assuming that they are similar enough to yours, they can choose when they go into that state and aren't at the mercy of seasons."

Oscar shifts nervously as the door shuts behind him. "I was um 18."

"That's older than normal." Lucifer frowns, studying his body, and she bites her lip. "You're stunted."

Oscar looked ashamed. "Kayne, my father says my body is playing catch up. I'm not entirely confident in myself without a cross on."

Lucifer cups Oscar's face in her hands. "Promise me you won't put it back on till the other me can look you over." She sighs. "Come sit. I'll make you breakfast."

Oscar cautiously takes a seat and blushes when he realizes his robe is wide open. "I didn't mean to flash you."

"Oscar, you're wearing underwear. You are no where near close to flashing me." Lucifer hums and turns on the heat on the stove. "Besides, I'm just another version of your mother it's nothing I haven't seen before. What do you want to eat?"

"Anything is fine." Oscar sighs. "I'm not picky."

Lucifer pauses. "Alright, I'm doing this, and I apologize to the other me."

Oscar looks up confused.

"Robe off." Lucifer doesn't wait for an answer with a flick of her wrist. The robe was in her hands. "Stand up."

Oscar tries to cover himself with his massive pair of wings, but it only reveals the scars from whips on his back.

Lucifer growls. "Oscar, I will only tell you this once. Do not hide yourself from me."

Oscar flinched and stretched his wings out to reveal the true extent of all the scaring over his entire body. He looked incredibly uncomfortable being exposed.

"Oscar, you aren't in trouble." Lucifer approaches slowly. "You're hurt, and most of this never properly healed. It's no wonder your true form is mostly from your father. My stuff is only superficial. I can't imagine how painful this is for you." Her steps are careful as she looks at his back. She can see a smaller second pair of wings barely emerge from Oscar's back. She can see bald spots in fur on his legs and arms and mostly his back. Bone spurs seem to be erupting in the bald spots as a defense to whatever was there to cause the bald spot and scarring. She takes a deep breath. "Oscar, I'm going to make you something comforting and set up a bath for you with some hell stones and brimstone."

"I should be getting back." Oscar jumps when Lucifer grabs his tail.

"I insist. I will set up a bath now you stay put." Lucifer doesn't leave room for an argument and scoops up her boy when he suddenly appears. "Hello my little monster, would you be a dear and go back and tell them I'm going to keep the other you here for a bit, and..." She summons a letter that already was written. "Give your other daddy this for me. Oh, and if you want to spend the day with Mr Collins, go ahead or go find the other Hastur."

Oscar takes the letter and smiles. "Can I take Faroe with me?"

"No, my little harbinger, Faroe is with her daddy." Lucifer hums for a moment. "Actually, come back in an hour or two. I'll have more stuff to send to your other daddy. Do you want to be Mommy's messenger today?"

"Like a mailman?" Oscar smiles wider when Lucifer nods.

"Yeah, and have fun with them, ok? Mommy is going to help the other you feel better." Lucifer smiled when her baby rushed to hug her.

"Thank you, Mommy! I'll be back. I love you." Oscar giggles and vanishes.

Lucifer turns back to the adult Oscar. She summons a large feast of comfort food on the table. "Eat, I'm setting up your bath. Nerophropte hasn't been back since he giggled about this worlds Dennis, and it's a surprise. But I married a being of madness and chaos." She puts Oscar in a chair and pushes him to the take covered in food. "I'll be back and you better be eating."

Oscar nods, hugging his chest. He felt exhausted, and a self-hatred wiggle it's way in his mind as he stared at the food. Why would she care about him? He's just a monster.

......

"I'm back! Mommy asked me to be a mailman!" Little Oscar giggles, grabbing Kayne's leg as he floats close to the ground.

"Little entropy!" Kayne laughs is cut off as the boy hands him a letter. He pauses as he reads, and he frowns as a serious expression rolls over his manic happiness. "Hmmmmm it seems you're going to hang out here."

Little Oscar nods. "Yeah!" He waves at Dennis, who nods seemingly understanding what is happening. "Mommy's gonna help the other me. She says he's hurt, but he doesn't look hurt, and he's smiling, so it can't be that bad."

Dennis sighs and takes little Oscar off Kayne. "Alright boyo, let's go find the detective and Hastur."

Little Oscar smiles. "Like an adventure?"

"Excatly." Dennis hums. "Would you be coming with us?"

Kayne shakes his head. "Afraid I have to meet an old friend. I'll be back you too." He vanishes from sight.

......

The water was boiling, but it felt amazing. Oscar sank down to his chin. The pain dulles to a quiet ache in his bones as he shuts his eyes.

"Oh."

A voice suddenly pulls Oscar out of that, and he stands up startled. He covers himself as a blush travels across his face. "I-i s-sorry."

Nerophropte shakes his head feet on the ground. "Absoutely not. Sit back down." Watches Oscar, sit back down, and he can see the sheer damage to his body. He can feel his shell crack from his simmering pure rage in his blood.

Oscar looked away, trying to hide himself in the red liquid. "Lucifer insisted I take a break in here. She wasn't happy. I didn't eat much and ushered me in here. Your Oscar is in my world." He swallows and stares down at the boiling liquid. "You uh just missed him. He was very excited to deliver messages between our worlds."

"What is the other me doing?" Nerophropte had a cautious tone in his voice as to not upset or scare this version of his son.

"Little me said he was talking to Micheal. He also made it clear to say that Kayne was holding him long enough that he took a nap. He wasn't able to tell me what the conversation was about. I can go and bring him back. I don't want to impose." Oscar goes to get up again.

A stern female voice interrupts. "How many fucking times do I have to tell you to sit and relax? You are not imposing, and this isn't a bother. My Oscar is having a fun time. You will sit there until I tell you to get out." Lucifer steps into the bathing room, arms crossed, and scowl on her lips. "I am not telling you again. You're going to fucking relax and allow yourself to heal or I will find a way to your world and dragging your mate here."

"Y-yes ma'am." Oscar sinks into the bath.

"And you!" Lucifer points at Nerophropte. "You are going to leave the boy be and let him relax. You are going to come in here help me make food for him and tell me excatly where the fuck you've been."

Nerophropte nods quickly, following Lucifer out of the bathing room. "You've seen him?"

Lucifer growls. "He has been trying to leave first the past three hours everything I try to help him heal or feed him. He's way too skinny and skittish." Her shoulders drop, and she lets out a heavy sigh. "He accidently opened the sealed heaven gates instead of hell. It only worsened his already frail condition. Do you have any idea how stunted he is? He doesn't remove the crosses he wears! Nerophropte, do you have any idea how painful that is, let alone dangerous? The only reason he hasn't accidently killed a large city with his demonic powers being suppressed and growing out of control is because of the side he gets from the other you!" She covers her face shaking. "Nerophropte, I can't imagine the sheer abuse he went through to twist his mind to think this was ok. He's not our baby, but he is."

"Lucifer." Nerophropte sounded deathly calm. "If I don't leave now, my shell will break, and I will scare him off. I agree, and I love you, but." A crack forms on his face and he vanishes.

"Mommy!" Her baby boy nearly startles her.

Lucider wipes her face and smiles. "Back already? Are you done having fun?"

Oscsr puffed out his cheeks. "Noooooo." He holds out a letter and a small box. "Mr. Collins wanted to give the box to Big me, and my other daddy wanted to give you that note. Also, can I sleep over? Pleaseeee! Noel is gonna teach me chess like the adults play, and Mr. Collins said if I stay over, he'll show me my other self favorite clothes and stuffed toys. Oh! And his favorite foods."

"Ok ok ok." Lucifer chuckles. "You have to behave and be Mommy's mailman if they ask to send letters." She summons her own few letters labeled for Dennis and Kayne. "Brings these over, and don't forget your little gruesome bear."

"Yay! Ok, Mommy, thank you!" Oscar grabs the letter and runs to his room to get his teddy bear and vanishes.

Lucifer sighs, opening the letter from the other Nerophropte. She grimaced reading the contents. It was as bad no worse than she could have imagined. She didn't need the context to know her other son was hurt badly, abused till the day he had his arm removed by force to save him. You can go blue in the face discussing the cruelty of herself or the old ones, but humanity had that special flavor that made her sick. There were other things in the letter, but they weren't as pressing. Kayne agreed to keep him here to heal, for as long as she was able. That world didn't have a hell for Oscar to heal, to have a single chance to properly recover and grow how he's supposed to.

Oscar sunk deep in the bath again, hearing footsteps approach.

"It's ok. I apologize for yelling before." Lucifer comes closer and hands over a small box to Oscar. "Your mate asked my boy to bring it for you."

Oscar reached out and took the small box and opened it to reveal a music box and a soft lullaby started to play. He smiles softly, placing it on the edge of the tub. "Alright, thank you. I'll stay here for a bit." He shuts his eyes and listens to the simple melody.

Lucifer sighs and nods knowing better than to pry.

.......

"Ok, I'm back relaxed and only destroyed like 6 cities." Nerophropte smiles.

Lucifer raised her brow.

"Ok, 22 cities, but I feel better!" Nerophropte smiles. "Not gonna destroy our home."

"Mmh." Lucifer sighs. "Oscar is asleep, and our Oscar comes back and is cuddled under his wing, wanting to surprise older him when he wakes up, but he also fell asleep. I've already taken a few photos, and if you wake them, I'm ripping out your heart."

Nerophropte gasps. "Let me see!"

Lucifer holds up the photos that her husband grabs. "I got Oscar to eat a bit more, but he's thin, thinner than he looks. I wish to discuss this with his mate, but unfortunately, neither of them know or understand demon needs or culture or even basic biology. He's obviously not getting the right nutrients. It's not his fault, and it's not Kayne's fault. The other yous memories are twisted, barely able to be focused upon to know what to do properly." She pulls at her hair. "I keep seeing him, and I think of our boy. I know we won't let that happen, but..."

Nerophropte hugs Lucifer tight. "We can help him, and whatever other version our boy finds and befriends." He smiles softly. "Did you hear anything from the other me?"

"Yes." Lucifer hands over a few letters. She waits for him to read through them before speaking. "Well."

Nerophropte frowns as he hands the letters back. "It's like a twisted mirror. I can see where my mind was taken apart. I am a being, a god of madness, but this... this I can remember these moments, but the way he states them, I can see the damage dome to his mind and how he's trying to force it to heal. It's actually disturbing." He floats down to have his feet on the ground. "That's not to say we are completely different, I'm certain I would act the same in his position, but he loves his Oscar, but he's forgotten how to do that properly. He doesn't have a version of you to help him."

Lucifer pulls her husband into a tight hug. "I'm sure the other me is doing their damndest to break out of hell. We've done it before and we'll do it again."

"Hell's been sealed before?" Nerophropte has a curious tone.

Lucifer chuckles and pulls away. "Oh, why do you think our first meeting was on a battlefield?"

"Wait... wait, Lucy, I want to hear the story." Nerophropte floats after Lucifer as she heads to bed.

......

"Good morning sleep-"

Oscar's eyes widen, and he falls onto his own bed after being startled. He lands on Dennis and covers his face. "Sorry."

Dennis cracks his eye open and yawns. "Thought you would stay longer to recover." He hugs Oscar from under him. "I suppose you'll have to be my heated blanket."

Oscsr blushes. "Dennis..." He takes a breath. "Are you alright. Did the other me cause trouble?"

Dennis chuckles softly. "Nah, the wee lad was merely a curious thing. Didn't cause trouble, and your father was his shadow. Innocent creature that boy is."

Oscar smiles softly. "Thank you." He pauses and pushes himself up and out of Dennis's grasp. He turns over and stares down at Dennis. "You're a bit pale."

Dennis sighs. "I'm always pale."

"Not this pale." Oscar moves to the side and sits up. "Dennis."

"Oscar." Dennis smiles softly, propping himself up to sit next to Oscar. "I'm fine. I'm just a little worn." He grabs Oscar's hand. "You look worse. Did they even feed you?"

Oscar huffs. "I'm not that bad." He stares down at himself. He makes a face staring at his ribs poking out. "I... I'll be better."

Dennis brushes hair out of Oscar's face. "Stay here. I'll make you some breakfast." He stops when Oscar grabs his hand.

"Stay with me a bit longer. You don't look well, and I know I can't make you rest, but just stay with me here." Oscar lays back down, and Dennis follows using Oscar's wing as a blanket.

"I suppose I could keep the detective waiting, and it's not like he isn't capable of making his own food." Dennis hums.

"Thank you."

.....

"Nerophropte, are you even listening?" A male voice made Kayne blink.

Kayne gripped his head. No, he was checking in on his Oscar and his consort. He isn't here. He didn't even know where here was. "This isn't real."

The man tilts his head and smiles. "This isn't real, but you should listen regardless."

Kayne scowls and goes to attack, but the man appears behind him.

"I'm merely a memory attached to well... what did I say?" The man shifts to the form of a woman. "To be bonded to a demon will always change their mate unless they too are demon."

"You... you..." Kayne stares at the figure who looks familiar but he couldn't place them.

"You. You what?" The figure laughs a mix of female and male tones together. "You're broken and don't know the truth from fiction the past from the future. I'm merely trying to help you put the pieces together. You're so desperate to remember that you've accepted something. I don't think any of the yous left have."

Kayne growls and lunges again, but the stranger dodges him.

"I'm not done, Nerophropte." The stranger smiles and shifts to a photo negative of Kayne. "Oh, who am I kidding? This would be way funnier." The stranger jumps at Kayne, and as soon as they touch, they fuse together.

.......

"Kayne? Come on, we don't need Oscar finding you here like this." Noel was shaking Kayne gently while he was on the floor.

"You are going to get us killed." Hastur hisses.

Noel groans as Kayne sits up suddenly and knock their heads together. "Fuck." He falls back and rubs his forehead.

Kayne blinks. "What was that?"

"You headbutted Noel." Hastur responds dryly.

Kayne pauses. "Something is different." He floats up rubbing his chin. "Oh, I don't know what it is, and it will drive me crazy. Tip of the tongue sort of thing. Yaknow?"

Noel sighs and gets up. "Right..."

Kayne snaps his fingers. "Ah, right, I was gonna see my boy."

"Oscar is sleeping." Dennis sighs and leans on the door frame to the hallway. He was paler than normal, but he didn't seem sick. He just had bruises by the top of his forehead equal distance from each other. "Don't wake him. He only came back because the other you startled him when he woke up."

"Oh, he accidently traversed dimension that's adorable." Kayne smiles with too many teeth. "Oh, he's probably going to be hungry! I think I can remember his favorite!" He vanishes.

"I'm going to hide my good pans." Dennis sighs.

"Before that, one what's up with the bruises and two I think Kayne actually fell asleep if only for a few minutes." Noel pauses as Dennis stares at him.

Dennis points to his forehead. "Horns, and boy you better not be fucking with me."

"Horns?" Noel hums. "Actually, that makes sense. It's odd it's taken so long..... yes, it does make sense. I'll explain later...." He pinches his brow and takes a breath. "Yes, I'm certain that kayne was in some sort of state. He didn't even react when I walked next to him or when I shook him."

Dennis frowns. "This is... I don't know what this means." He crosses his arms. "It would be wise not to mention it to Kayne."

"Agreed." Noel nods.

......

"Excuse me, not daddy." Little Oscar stared up at Kayne. "Why are your eyes weird?" He was holding hands with a woman.

The woman gave a strained smile and crouched down next to her son. "Go find big you."

Little Oscar nods and runs deeper into the apartment.

Kayne sunk down feet to the floor, his hands dripping a crimson liquid. "You're..."

The woman blinks and shakes her head. "I never thought.... I'm still...." She smiles softly and brushes back Kayne's short white wild hair. "You look tired."

"I don't sleep." Kayne's voice was oddly calm.

The woman chuckles softly. "Maybe you should try. Why are you covered in blood today?"

"I was going to make Oscar's favorite, but I don't... I can't remember what that was. I used to eat, right? It should be something like that." Kayne stops when the woman grabs his hand.

"Relax, it will come back to you. The me here is helping even if you don't think so. You've accepted the mating bond, but I never thought it would be possible." She smiles sadly, seeing a look of recognition in Kayne's eyes. "My, you seem to be a bit more stubborn than you then. I may have a bit of jealousy in my blood for myself here."

Kayne cracks a genuine smile. It's small and barely noticeable. "Thank you."

"Mommy, mommy!" Little Oscar was pulling an adult version of himself to her. "I found big me!"

Oscar yawned wearing a robe, but still no crosses. "Morning."

"Did you wake him up?" She crouched down to face her son.

Little Oscar puffs out his cheeks. "You wanted to see him."

"It's alright." Oscar rubs his eyes. "Sorry for vanishing."

The woman smiles and gets back up and brushes the hair out of Oscar's face. "It's quite alright, I just wanted to make sure you got back safe, and my little harbinger wanted to say good morning."

"Ah, good morning!" Little Oscar shouts and vanishes with his mother in tow.

Kayne smiles wide. "Are you alright?"

Oscar nods and hugs Kayne. "Wanna go back to bed." He yawns. "Mmh, really tired."

Kayne picks up his boy. "I'll take you there. I'll be there till you fall asleep."

"Thank you, dad." Oscar purrs softly.

......

"Back so soon?" The Stranger purrs.

Kayne gritted his teeth and lunged. He just goes through the stranger.

"As entertaining as it is to watch you flail around like a mortal in a box. I do have limited time, or I don't it really depends on you." The Stranher laughs and flicks their wrist, and thousands upon thousands of locked doors appear. "Huh, a bit on the nose as a metaphor, huh. Anyway, what do you think these are, Nero baby?"

Kayne growls. "It's Kayne."

"Yeah yeah whatever I don't care." Stranger sighs. "I'll hold your hand, sweetie, because I'm feeling nice." They float up and point to the doors. "Want me gone? Then you have to open every single one of these doors." He pauses and turns upside down. "Which if you haven't guessed are the memories you're after! Every one you figure out, I'll slowly vanish because I'm just you, well you with their head intact." He laughs manically. "You may ask why now? Why me? Where is this? Well, I was being nice, not generous. I'm only holding your hand because whatever little infection old Lucifer gave us with a successful mate bond forces me to. And man, is he a real tight ass. Oh, it reminds me why we fell in love. Oh well, you have to figure that out on your own! Tootaloo!"

Kayne hisses as the photo negative version of himself vanishes. He looks around this plane that makes no sense and the assortment of doors. He huffs and floats up to a single door. He reaches out and tries to touch it, but his hand goes right through. It kind of feels like viseria. He had to be logically. He hated that.

.......

#malevolent #oscar malevolent #kayne malevolent #arthur lester

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terefen · 2 years ago

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This backstory is for a Warforged Phantom Rogue called Theowyn. This is one of my first real attempts at story writing but I’m very proud of myself!

Theowyn before how we know her now, was a scholar and scientist at Faerûn’s great institutes of learning. Shy and bashful, she never strayed away from the books and shelves the institute provided. Hiding from social interaction like the plague as well as trying to learn the fantasies and mysteries of the world.

Theowyns studies included forensic research. Using the mystical and practical resources provided in order to discover hidden insights on a crime. She was no investigator nor a practician of law enforcement, but she did have a Hyper fixation on Mystery novels alike. Enjoying the thought of using her genius to crack a case.

Despite her fear of embarrassment via social interaction, she did have someone she felt comfortable with. A regular work partner and officer in training, Viktor. He would often approach her with questions about the science behind forensics and how to determine the difference between clues and redundancies. Because he was so fresh to the force, he never had any background knowledge or education on investigations and wanted a leg up. Half the time she never really knew how to answer his questions, however from a mixture of pity and a need to be liked she often vented off something she read in a fantasy novel. Despite some answers being ridiculous, Viktor seemed to never know any better and always left satisfied.

This wouldn't be it for Theowyn however, as every time Viktor visited her in need of some knowledge, he would also leave with some added respect for her. Viewing her as an Expert in the Forensic field.

Without a doubt, Theowyn didn't really bat an eye toward Viktors visits, merely seeing them as apart of her work. However, with each passing visit, Theowyn would begin to grow a liking to Viktor. The way he never failed to visit every week was at first annoying but then became her favourite part of her work. Like having a real friend for the first time, or maybe something more. In Theowyn's mind, she believed that Viktors view on their relationship was just Professional and was outside the possibilities of growth. Although she quickly began to question what he meant to her.

One day, an opportunity arose where he needed a partner to help him on a crime scene. This was apart of his practical training and was meant to be his final stepping stone before he became an officer. Naturally Theowyn was the first person he asked, and in a fuss to uncover what he meant to her, she agreed.

With simple experiments and clue discovery, this wasn't far from Theowyns average work day. Viktor proved to be a very practical work partner, which Theowyn began to trust in turn.

Unfortunately, on this crime scene another tragedy would take place. Upon the discovery of Warforged remains, evidence that a murder took place became present, turning the crime scene into an active homicide investigation.

The Warforged corpses were fresh, still leaking fluids out of what seemed to be stab wounds. A simple dagger was the plausible murder weapon along with signs of a struggle on the ground they died on. The location was desolate, meaning dust and debris should be present. A coat of dust layered the floor entirely with empty patches being present by the corpses. Theowyns forensic mind was racing at 100 miles per hour, leading her to believe that the killer was still at the scene.

This was outside of Theowyns work experience by a large sum, leading her to panic. The killer was still present and had clear signs of malicious intent. Theowyn turned to Viktor in a sweat, rushing to him for a sense of safety. As she approached she saw the exits behind him blocked and the windows shut. She was on the verge of a break down. Viktor approached her in the quiet chaos, letting her cling to him.

Tear stricken and wailing, Theowyn clings to Viktor in a tight hug. She began to ask him what they should do in her panicked voice, constantly stuttering and repeating her words in a rapid succession. She began to breathe deep breaths. Hoping for comfort or a reply.

However her panic was only met with silence. Not an embrace nor a reply, but instead pure cold silence. Her mind began to blank with panic and she began to freeze. Viktor gave her nothing but a still post to cling to. Silence was otherwise the only presence left in the room.

Theowyns grip on Viktor loosens, attempting to look up at him for the first time. Before her head could make it half way, a cold grasp clampers onto the back of her neck. Pulling her backward. Like a collar, a second cold hand clings to the front of her throat. Immense amounts of pressure pushes her downward until her back is flat against the floor. Full body weight traps her, with Viktors legs restricting her movement. The first hand releases, triggering the sound of polished metal. The unsheathing rings in the air, leaving Theowyn motionless. She's too frightened to fight back, her body freezing at the seems. All she manages to do is plead out a quiet yelp, before a cold sharp pain thrusts into her chest.

Her body begins to enter shock, as one after another, more stab wounds appear on her body. Stars and static clusters her vision and her ears begin ringing a white sound. The warmth of her Blood covering her body is the final comfort she feels before she fades into the dark.

Betrayed, lied to and forgotten, all that remained was Theowyns corpse. Littered with holes, her body was left in the very same place where it died, with no one to look for her. With no one who cared for her. With the only person she knew being her very demise. In the grand scheme she achieved nothing. Hence after death she will receive nothing. Her spirit was all that was left of who she was, and even that was forgotten, to roam the Earth for an eternity.

The trauma of it all was overbearing. To die like that. To be left in the muck. How could she accept this fate? What would she do now?

In the darkness, she longs for the comfort of her old life. For the books she read in the warmth of her blanket. For the late nights she spent on her research. That was enough for her to be happy.

Her mind just wanted to move on, however this was it. The end. This was the supposed conclusion of her life story. To die to a maniac. She couldn't accept this. If this was the end then why was she still there? To mourn over her brutal death for eternity? Her spirit had mystical properties that could prove useful. Or so she read in books. Perhaps, this wasn't the end. In time she began to recover from her trauma an began to plot. She turned to the Warforged corpses, motionless and lifeless. Eternal bodies without a purpose. All they needed was a soul.

"A spark"

#dungeons and dragons #character concept #dnd oc #storytelling #backstory

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thepenguinclub · 2 months ago

Text

eras

Chapter 3: Speak Now

The third chapter in my hp fic 'eras'!

Here is the eras masterpost. Here is the previous chapter.

Read under the cut.

Speak Now 🎆

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Flying was freedom. It was the dropping of a stomach, and the tears in your eyes, and the sound of rushing air and pumping blood.

Most people didn’t, but Harry knew freedom - you can only really know it if you’ve lived without it. Harry lived the first eleven years of his life grasping at freedom the way a dying man grasps at life, or maybe how a leaf clings to a tree. Desperately, while knowing it would never last.

But flying. Meters above the ground with nothing but the open air and birds for company, that was freedom. Having complete control over yourself while still having to surrender to gravity, the rush of adrenaline that came with a complicated move, the weightlessness at the top of an arc. Harry had never experienced something so freeing, and he never wanted to stop.

“We should go inside,” Draco said, smoothing his hair back and away from his face. As high up as they were, it was chilly with a strong breeze, resulting in red coloring Draco’s nose, cheeks and ears. He scowled as the wind blew his hair into his face again, and Harry laughed, more easily than he ever could on the ground.

“We still have a while until dinner,” Harry pointed out, spinning in place. They were over the forest, so high that the tallest tower in Hogwarts was still a ways below them. Harry liked to fly over the forest and see if he could spot anything exciting, although it was nearly impossible as high as they were. “We can take a few more laps around the lake.”

Draco adjusted his grip on his broom and shivered.

“I know, but we promised Hermione we would be back to study,” he reminded. “We already blew her off for the first part of the afternoon.”

Harry sighed and chewed his lip.

“I know,” he groaned. “But it’s so nice up here. I can’t imagine leaving all of this for a Potions essay.”

“Snape is cruel,” Draco agreed. “But we really should do it.”

“I know,” Harry repeated sullenly. Draco drifted towards him so he could lightly bump their shoulders.

“We can come back out tomorrow,” he promised. Harry nodded, then shot Draco a smirk.

“Race you there,” he said, just before shooting off towards the ground.

“Oh, you little-” Draco yelled after him, before dissolving into an elated laugh as he, too, started his fast descent.

The wind whipped through Harry’s hair and stung at his eyes, causing tears to leak out the sides. The grass approached quickly, and Harry let out a laugh, before pulling to a stop just a meter above the ground.

Freedom, Harry thought as we watched Draco scowl and grumble on his broom next to Harry, was better than he ever thought it would be.

–

The Hospital Wing’s sheets were sterile and crisp, nothing like the soft cotton of the Gryffindor dorms. Harry pressed his head back into the pile of thin pillows under his shoulders and sighed. The ceiling swam in front of his eyes, bending and twisting in a dance without music. Harry blinked, and his eyelids were heavy, and he wished he could simply sleep, but he couldn’t.

Someone in another bed coughed feebly in their sleep, and Harry clenched his teeth in frustration. He wanted to sleep, so badly, but it was all so different. The air was stale, and there were no sounds of breathing or snores. The windows were closed so there was no soft breeze, and no sounds of the outside. The only sounds were the ticking of the clock in the corner, and the intermittent coughing from the other side of the room. It was just slightly too cold, and the blankets and pillows were thin, and sterile, and crisp, and they were nothing like Gryffindor.

Hot tears welled in Harry’s eyes, and he blinked them away fitfully. Not for the first time, he cursed the Dursleys for making him so uncomfortable sleeping, even existing, in unfamiliar territory.

He wasn’t allowed to leave, though. Not until his bones fully regrew into his arm, which was simply such a ridiculous idea that Harry had a hard time believing it at all. He needed to look over at his floppy wrist and forearm to actually remind himself, but then it only reminded him of the overwhelming itchiness and discomfort that came with regrowing bones. So he would stare at the ceiling and count the granite slabs, but then after a while it would move with the swirls and surges of exhaustion. And then Harry would be right back where he started: hot tears balanced on his eyelashes, a stinging in his sinuses, and a thick lump in his throat.

Harry swallowed heavily and closed his eyes to clear the tears. He twisted his good fingers into the hospital sheet and sighed through his nose to clear it. He was so tired, but he couldn’t sleep, so he resigned himself to hours more of the same cycle of listening to the clock tick and the kid cough.

Then, of course, there was the slight creak of a door. Harry’s eyes shot open and he turned to the front of the Hospital Wing, where the door was slightly ajar. It closed slowly by itself, and for a moment it was quiet and Harry thought he had hallucinated it, but then there was the rustling of fabric and a shock of red hair.

“Harry!” Ron whisper-shouted with a smile.

“Ron?” Harry asked in a similar whisper. He pushed himself up onto his existing elbow. “What are you doing here?”

“I figured it might be lonely here and all,” the other boy explained cheerily, taking a seat in the chair closest to Harry’s head, “so I thought I should come and keep you company! I borrowed your cloak, hope that’s okay,” he added as an afterthought, holding up the silvery fabric he had bunched on his lap.

“That’s fine.” Harry struggled to sit up, and Ron rushed to press a hand on his back to steady him. “Thanks. You know you didn’t have to come, though.”

“‘Course I did,” Ron assured him seriously. “I wouldn’t like being all alone here, and I know you don’t sleep easy in new places, so I thought you might be awake already.”

“I was,” Harry confirmed hesitantly, brows furrowed. “How did you know I don’t sleep well in new places?”

“You always toss and turn a lot when we first get here,” Ron said with a shrug. “And you don’t ever fall asleep in the common room with me and Hermione those times we stay up late. My brother was like that for a while, Mum had to always go and pick him up from sleepovers.”

“Oh.” Harry allowed himself to smile, then, at his best friend. It was so incredibly Ron that Harry’s sinuses started to sting again, but it was much easier to push the feeling away than before. “So, what do we do?”

“Fred taught me this game the other day,” Ron told him excitedly. “It’s a speed game that he learned from one of the muggleborns and he kept beating me so I thought that if I taught you, then we could both learn together and it wouldn’t be so unfair.”

As he spoke, Ron scooted closer to Harry’s bed and started dealing cards from a regular muggle card deck.

“And I know it’s a bit unfair because you only have the one hand,” he continued, pausing to huff a piece of his hair out of his eyes, “so I’m gonna play with one hand too.”

Harry’s sinuses burns, and his throat ached, and his eyes grew warm, and then wet, and by the time Ron had finished talking Harry was wiping away a few stray tears. Ron looked up when he was done dealing, and his smile dropped quickly.

“Oh no, are you okay? Does your arm hurt? We don’t have to play if you don’t want to, we can just talk, or lay together if you want. I can leave, actually, if you’d-”

“No, no, no,” Harry shook his head and swiped his hand through the air as if to bat the idea away. He smiled, wide and toothy, at Ron, whose brow furrowed. “I like having you here. I’m excited to play.”

“But… you’re crying.” Ron chewed on the inside of his cheek nervously. “I wanted to make you feel better, not make you cry, mate.”

“I know,” Harry replied brightly. “You did make me feel better, Ron, I’m just being a bit ridiculous.” He crossed his legs in front of him and nudged the cards laid out on the bed, watching Ron relax back into his grin. “How do we play?”

Reassured that nothing was wrong, Ron jumped back into explaining the mechanics of the game, which was made a bit more difficult with the limitation of only having one hand, but only resulted in hushed giggling and thrown cards. They must have played for hours, each boy becoming more comfortable and trying to sabotage each other. Ron migrated onto the end of his bed for better reach, and before either of them knew it, the sound of birds was floating through the Hospital Wing windows and Harry was only missing three of his fingers.

It was only when the other kid started to groan awake that they decided to call an end to their game, though. Ron slipped the cards back into their box and draped the cloak around his shoulders as Harry situated himself back in his bed, until he was leaned back against the pillows and waving goodbye to a floating head.

“Thanks for coming, Ron,” he said genuinely. Ron beamed at him and gave him a light shove on the shoulder.

“Anytime, mate,” the other boy replied. “That’s what friends are for, right?”

“Right.” Harry bit on his smile as his friend pulled the hood up and disappeared from view. His last goodbye was an invisible hand tickling the bottom of his foot through the thin hospital sheets, and then he was gone.

Harry turned onto his side and watched as he flexed his fingers and wrist. They felt strange and new, but nowhere near the uncomfortableness of the night. Settling down into the mattress, he turned away from the ceiling, instead facing the chair next to his bed. He pulled the thin sheets up to his shoulders, closed his eyes, and slept.

–

It was interesting, Harry thought, the changes that someone could go through over only a year of time. The timidness that most of his grade had felt disappeared, and, as second years, they were found everywhere, eagerly chattering with each other. Harry himself didn’t feel any more confident in his place in the wizarding world, but he did feel more familiar with the workings of Hogwarts, despite the strange whispers he had been hearing in the walls.

His schedule was familiar. His friends were familiar, and his coursework. While the grounds changed with the seasons, they never lost their warmth and vast ability to steal Harry’s breath when the sun hit them just right. That was something that Ron, Draco and Hermione could agree with, so they made it a part of their week to walk the grounds in the afternoons or after dinner. Harry had never had a grounds to walk, or friends to agree with, before coming into the wizarding world. It helped him settle into a calm, a peaceful, intimate way of life.

“I dare you to jump in the lake and touch the squid!” Ron yelled, shoving Draco’s shoulder so that he stumbled towards the bank.

“Why would I do that when I can touch an ugly, dirty being with little brain function right now?” Draco drawled back, dusting off his robes and then reaching over to mess Ron’s hair up. Ron squawked loudly, pushing him off, and then the two were off, chasing each other and yelling.

“Boys,” Hermione scoffed derisively from where she was walking next to Harry. Harry nodded in consternation, pursing his lips to hide his smile. “Not you, Harry, of course. Not that your not a boy, I just mean that you’re much more mature and easy to be around than those neanderthals.”

“Thanks, Hermione,” Harry replied sweetly, allowing his smile to show a bit. “I like being around you too.”

“It’s good that our group ended up being this way,” she continued thoughtfully, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. “We balance each other out well, I think. Although it would be nice to have more friends from different houses. Have you ever noticed how much they separate our houses from each other? It’s so strange…”

Harry hummed in agreement as Hermione began listing the pros and cons of the Hogwarts house system, though he was only half-listening. His attention was caught by the boys on the ground in front of them.

Ron and Draco had managed to run to the curve of the lake, about half the length, where he guessed they had gotten tired and decided to wait for Harry and Hermione to catch up. They were both sprawled in the tall grass, arms and legs akimbo, staring up at the sky. They seemed to be discussing something, though Harry was much too far away to tell what. He could see both of their faces lighting up with a blush, though, so he figured he probably didn’t want to know anyway.

He agreed with Hermione’s earlier statement, about how balanced their group was. Him, Hermione, Draco and Ron, they felt complete. A set of four. He couldn’t imagine his life without any of them. Without Ron, Harry thought he would be shy and quiet, probably lonely too. Without Hermione, Harry would become overwhelmed and panicked. Without Draco, Harry decided that he wouldn’t have much happiness, or much will for life.

They were maudlin thoughts, of course, but Harry had always been prone to such things. He was only twelve, but a lifetime of dark cupboards and swinging fists will make anyone a cynic, he thought. It was a whole different world at Hogwarts, and Harry found himself having difficulty switching back to the positiveness and color that Hogwarts exuded, so used to his colorless life with the Dursleys.

In the distance, Draco rolled onto his stomach to lay face down, while Ron curled up into a tight ball, laughing loud enough to reach where Harry and Hermione were walking. It caused Hermione to cut herself off with a slight giggle of her own.

“You’re a very good listener, Harry,” she told him. Harry shrugged a bit, unused to compliments. He liked listening to Hermione talk, even if his mind did wander sometimes. It was soothing. He told her as much, which just resulted in another laugh.

“You’re very sweet, too.” She reached over and grabbed his hand, squeezing it lightly. Her skin was dark and warm, an interesting contrast to his pale brown. Harry had only learned last year that with enough sunlight he could become the golden brown his father was known for, but Hermione had apparently learned personal care from her mother, and took her skin and hair care seriously, resulting in smooth, clear skin and healthy curls down her back.

Harry squeezed her hand back and gave her a smile.

“You always say such nice things to me, Hermione. I’m never quite sure what to say back,” he confided quietly, eyes fixed on the lake to their side. The surface rippled calmly with the breeze, reflecting the sun when it appeared from behind the clouds.

“My dad always said that if you think something nice about someone else, you should say it to that person,” Hermione replied calmly. “Compliments always make someone feel good, and if you’re thinking it about them, why not tell them and make them feel good?”

“Your dad sounds like a nice person,” Harry noted, cutting his eyes away from the lake and to Hermione, fixing on her thin nose, sharp chin, and hazel eyes, all features he knew she got from her dad. She smiled brightly.

“He is,” she confirmed happily. “But you shouldn’t have to worry about how you respond to a compliment, Harry. I don’t say those things because I want you to say something back. I say them because I want them to know they’re true.”

“I know,” he said. And he did know that Hermione believed what she was telling him when she said those nice things. Whether they were true or not was different, but Harry didn’t bring that up. “I’m just not used to it, I guess.”

“Well, I’ll keep working on fixing that,” she promised him, bringing the hand that wasn’t in his to squeeze his upper arm comfortingly, pressing their cheeks together briefly.

They walked in comfortable silence the rest of the way to the boys, who had graduated to skipping rocks across the lake’s surface.

“Took you long enough,” Ron teased as soon as they were within earshot. “Been stuck with Malfoy for way too long.”

“Oh, come on, Weasley, we were having a moment,” Draco drawled with a grin. He made his way back to Harry’s side, and Ron stepped up to Hermione’s other side.

“A moment?” Harry asked curiously, turning to look at Draco as they continued their walk. Inexplicably, Draco blushed, the red flush climbing up to his hairline and around his ears.

“Nothing important,” he assured Harry. “Anyway, what were you and Hermione talking about?”

“Nothing important,” Harry replied, smiling a bit. Draco nodded and bumped their shoulders, and Harry had reached out and interlaced their fingers before he could even think about it.

Maybe it was because his other hand was still held in Hermione’s where she was talking animatedly with Ron. Maybe it was because he wanted to show Draco he appreciated his understanding to drop the subject. Maybe it was to see if the blush could spread down Draco’s neck too (it could). Maybe it was just because he wanted to.

Regardless of why, he did it, and it only took a moment for Draco to squeeze his hand tightly, resolutely looking out at the lake. Harry settled into a smile, chest warm.

He squeezed his hands, and immediately received two squeezes back.

–

Harry felt his heart in his throat, squeezing his panting breaths out in wheezes. He ran behind a stone column, eyes wide behind his cracked glasses and tears smearing the dirt caked on his face. The raspy sound of the monster’s scales on the floor echoed around him, sticking his breath in his chest.

“Come on out, Harry! This can be quick!” Tom Riddle taunted from the center of the room.

He didn’t know what to do. Fawkes had blinded it, sure, but it was still a three-story tall snake for Merlin’s sake. He was twelve!

The sound of the basilisk receded down one of the many sewers. Harry let out the breath he had been holding, his chest burning from the effort of staying so quiet. Carefully, he checked around the column and, when he found it clear, ran straight back to where he knew Ginny would still be.

She was paler still, and even her hair was losing color. Harry bit back a sob as Riddle laughed above him.

“It’s almost complete,” he taunted, appraising his own hand that was slowly becoming more solid. “Soon, your Lord Voldemort will be very much alive. And there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Harry’s chest heaved as he fought for air, the stench and dampness of the sewer leaving him breathless. Something shimmery caught his eye, but, before he could turn to it, the basilisk burst out of the water, shrieking and flailing. It’s massive body thumped onto the stone only a few meters away, and Harry whimpered. His legs screamed at him as he staggered to his feet and turned away, ready to start running.

Just then, he noticed the sword sticking out of the limp sorting hat, its sparkling hilt standing out sharply against the muck of the chamber. Harry practically threw himself at it, just barely missing the snap of the monster’s jaws where he had been standing.

He picked up the sword while he was running, some form of a plan coming together. He eyed the giant statue of Slytherin before he made the mistake of glancing behind him and found the basilisk already in pursuit of him, it’s eyes still shooting blood where the phoenix's claws had gauged them out.

Harry skidded to a stop before the flowing layers of stone that made up Slytherin’s beard, spared one deep breath, before leaping and catching himself on one hand. Hysterically, he thought back to when he was a child and used to do the same thing to escape Dudley and his pursuits. The basilisk slammed into the stone beneath him, a sharp reminder that he was not dealing with Dudley.

Harry climbed faster than he had ever climbed anything before, hardly even feeling the strain of muscle in his arms and the weakness in his knees when he finally made it to the top of the statue, solely focused on the swaying head in front of him.

The monster’s giant mouth opened in a roar, rows of sharp teeth on clear display. Harry waved the sword in front of him in hopes of warding it off, but it simply roared again and lunged, causing Harry to jump backwards. He smacked his head on the stone behind him, and sparks flew across his vision. His mouth flooded with liquid copper, and he cried out, though of course no one heard him.

The basilisk lunged again and knocked a chunk off the statue a little to Harry’s right as he desperately tried to get his bearings, blinking and shaking his head.

“Sword,” he croaked out loud, in some wretched effort to get the weapon back in his position. It glinted at him from its place balanced precariously on the edge of the statue, and Harry urged his exhausted body to crawl over to it, grabbing it just before the statue shook dangerously due to the monster, once again, biting off a chunk in its effort to get to Harry.

It reeled back and shrieked, which caused Harry’s whole body to throb. He knew he couldn’t survive another attack from the monster, so, using everything he had left, he stood, the sword held in his trembling grip.

He sobbed. He was going to die.

The basilisk’s head snapped towards him, its mouth opening once again to display its massive fangs. Harry swayed where he stood, but brought the sword towards the monster, arms shaking.

The monster growled, reared back, and lunged.

–

Harry stared into the fire until it burned itself into his eyes, until he saw its imprint even when he squeezed his eyes shut. The heat licked along his face, flushing his face and gathering sweat at his forehead. Still, he couldn’t bring himself to move away from it.

Distantly, he was aware of the rest of the Gryffindor common room. The place that was usually so filled with life subdued and quiet, no one speaking above a whisper. Harry felt their eyes on the back of his head, almost as hot as the fire.

Draco shifted slightly next to him. It was his first time in the common room, something he had been nervous about doing before. No one had made a big deal about Harry and Draco being friends past the initial surprise of seeing their green and red next to each other, but Draco lived in fear of the day that the flip switched and everyone started to push him away from Harry.

Of course, he would never admit it, Harry mused. Draco had walked into the common room confidently, chin high and eyes caught on Harry and Harry only. He had walked straight to Harry and the fire, settled down next to his Gryffindor counterpart, and hadn’t moved since. At some point, someone had draped a blanket around their shoulders.

Hermione and Ron were on the couch behind them, talking in hushed voices like the rest of the room. Unlike the rest of the room, though, Harry didn’t mind their eyes on him. He knew they were just worried. They all were, he thought, though he wasn’t sure he appreciated it as much from the people he didn’t know.

Harry leaned into Draco’s side, suddenly sagging with a wave of exhaustion. Draco didn’t make any noise, just opened his arm to allow Harry’s head to rest in the curve between his shoulder and his neck. Harry breathed deeply, trying to parse the heat and ash of the fire from the lavender and pine of Draco’s shampoo and soap. Draco’s hand came around Harry’s shoulders to pull the blanket tighter around them.

“Harry,” Draco said. Just that, just his name. Harry blinked up at him slowly, sifting through the tone. Draco didn’t sound mad, or worried, or upset. He sounded just like he always did: a little sharp, a little serious, a little like he knew a secret.

At some point, Harry had curled his body towards Draco, so his arm was caught in between their bodies. Now, he pulled his arm free, pushing his sleeve up and over the bandages there delicately. They were pristine and white. Madam Pomfrey would never have let him go so soon if there was any chance of them reopening. Fawkes had done a good job, for sure, but for some reason Harry could still feel the lighting in his veins; could still feel the tearing of muscle and breaking of bone.

He curled his hand into a fist and felt the muscles clench, felt the strength of his arm under the bandages. They were performative, of course. Just there to make him feel better about it. As if a little piece of white cloth would change what happened.

Draco’s hand was cold where it curled over Harry’s, fingers pale and slender where they flowed in between Harry’s. He manipulated them until Harry’s limp hand was clutched in Draco’s. It was something they had done plenty of times before, holding hands. Nothing new.

But, for some reason, it felt like it was. Harry marveled at the contrast between their skin tones, the difference between them stark but unimportant compared to the simple feeling of Draco’s hand in his. The press of cold skin against his own heated forehead, and Harry tilted his head up to meet Draco’s gaze, which felt like the most important thing in the world. Draco brushed Harry’s fringe away from his forehead with his free hand, exposing his scar, which Harry knew would still be angry and red.

He didn’t like to think about it, didn’t want to think about it, so instead he fell back into Draco’s shoulders and breathed him in again. The fire didn’t seem so important anymore, so he pressed into Draco more, until he heard a quiet huff of breath. Draco pulled Harry into his lap gently, until Harry was curled into a little ball, scar pressed into the skin of Draco’s throat and hands still clasped between their bodies.

“I like this,” Harry told him. It seemed crucial, like if he didn’t cement this instance into words it would never happen again.

“I like this too,” Draco replied, chin rested on the crown of Harry’s head.

I like you, Harry doesn’t say. I thought I was going to die yesterday, and all I could think about was you, and how much I wished I could have seen you again. I thought nothing could possibly hurt more than a basilisk fang in my arm and then I thought about what it would be like if you didn’t like me back. I thought that if I could have anything in the whole world, I would want this. You, and me, and us together.

Draco looped his other arm around Harry’s shoulders and tugged him almost impossible closer.

I wish I wasn’t twelve, Harry thought. I wish I was grown up, because then maybe it would be normal to be me. It would be normal for me to be using a sword, it would be normal for me to be the most famous kid in the school, and it would be normal for me to feel like I need to have you with me all the time. It would be normal to feel so much sometimes that I think I might explode.

“You should try and go to sleep,” Draco whispered, words pressed into the side of his head.

I don’t know what to do. Harry closed his eyes. I don’t know how to make this better for me without making it worse for you. I don’t want to hear Tom Riddle in my head. I don’t want to feel the poison in my body. I don’t want to go back to the Dursley’s and be all by myself for months.

I don’t want to leave you here. Please don’t leave me.

“Goodnight, Harry.”

–

(Fawkes perched next to Harry on the floor, crooning softly. The sound was beautiful, but all Harry could focus on was his arm.

It was the worst pain he had ever felt. He could feel the poison working through his bloodstream, burning the inside of his body and creating the feeling of fire in his veins. He could feel every move he made, no matter how slight, stretching his already torn muscles and shifting the shards of bone still in his skin.

Harry cried. He heaved gasping breaths, his vision swimming in front of him. His throat was cold and dry, his mouth full of blood that was tangy with copper on his tongue. His head was splitting down the middle, his skull crumbling under the pain. He couldn’t breathe.

He was going to die. He had thought it, distantly, during the fight, but this was real. This was real blood and bone and tears, and he was going to die.

His mind flashed to blond hair and silver eyes. Draco. Through the pain, Harry’s mind latched onto the thought of Draco. He was going to die, and he was never going to see Draco again, or feel his hugs, or hear his voice. What would Draco do? Would he stay friends with Ron and Hermione, or would he go back to Slytherin? Harry hoped he wouldn’t.

Harry was dying, and he was thinking about Draco. What did that mean? Harry was pretty sure he knew, and it only made it all worse.

He was going to die, but that was the worst part, he thought. He couldn’t see Draco again, or tell him anything, or even sit with him.

Distantly, cold spread through his arm as Fawkes continued to sing. His fingers twitched. In the haze of pain, Harry had one thought: I want to sit with Draco again.

He passed out.)

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hey. i was really hoping to at least get through red before i lost this but obviously that didn't happen. this chapter has been a big source of contempt for me because ive been staring at it since before i even posted fearless. speak now is my favorite ts album ever and i really wanted to do it well, and then i just generally lost control of my brain and then nothing was getting done.

but, im back. after not working on it for six months, i managed to hammer out the rest of this chapter in one day and i gotta be honest, i am really proud of myself. which is a little ridiculous because it took be six months to write less than 6000 words but this has been a massive sticking point for me for so long and being able to finish it was a really satisfying feeling. i dont know, im hoping this starts an upward trend and i get to start writing more again because its something that i really enjoy and i want to keep doing it.

enough about me, though. this chapter represents speak now which, like i mentioned earlier, is my absolute fav ts album. i love love love so many songs on this album, and i adore the music composition on this album more than any of her other works. i think this is a very well rounded album, and has very few skips for me. hopefully i managed to get the vibes of it across well here!

again, this is for fab, and i thank you for being so patient with me as i work through all my stuff. i love you.

im thepenguinclub on ao3. love you all. have a good rest of your day.

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#harry potter #harry potter fanfic #hp fanfic #hp #drarry #drarry fanfic #draco malfoy #ron weasley #hermione granger #penguin writes eras

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february-salem · 3 months ago

Text

Memoir

The man with the fragmented face. He towers in the corner of the room. No ears to hear when I call to him. No mouth to respond. His presence is that of a memoir, a distant account of the past. Whenever he makes himself known to me, I always wonder what events transpired to cause his despair to leak indefinitely from the large ruptures that replace his features. We sit on opposite sides of the barren room. Depressed gray walls and a fearful concrete floor with a singular cot that mocks me every time I lay down to rest. Despite looking away, I can feel him over my shoulder, peering curiously at what I was looking at. We watch as a bead of water rolls down the side of the room. The walls were crying again. The tear rolls down to the floor, where the floor drinks it up with fervor. It reminds me of my parched throat.

The man with the fragmented face, who I have dubbed “Memoir”, turns back to face me as I do the same. Him and I, practically twins in the same dull uniform, trapped in the same dull room. In a way, I am envious of his missing features. I am aware that what he lacks would make him inhuman in the eyes of those who are capable to walk the streets without worry and without eyes around them prying into their bodies and minds, and that Memoir may be envious of the features that made me like those very street striders, but Memoirs missing features and leaking ruptures make him what most of those who freely walk the street could never be. Compassionate.

Those who freely walk the street with no care, not even for those who suffer on those same very stretches of frozen concrete cause a hot rage . I am envious of his absent features because he does not have to see what I see, hear what I hear, or waste his breath attempting to get them to cease. We both live in permanent solitude, yet it doesn’t bother him. He’s become a silent roommate to me, after so many years of isolation from those who claim to be normal and healthy, those who sealed the two of us here in this concrete limbo with crying walls and parched floors, those who feed me the tasteless cardboard they try to convince me is food and the tiny capsules of bitter poison that tries to change my brain pattern to match those who let the tiny electronic boxes in their pockets dictate what outfit they will wear this coming summer or the new accessory everyone needs to buy or else. The only thing the capsules made me realize, is that many more people should be in here with me.

Memoir’s ruptures are still prying into me when I turn back to him. I can tell he was hitching a ride on the same train of thought as I, his eyebrows—or what remained of them—knitted together with the same frustration that I can feel crawling through my veins and out the dripping gash on my knuckles. The floor does not drink up the crimson liquid falling from the incision in my pale skin.

The cell is quiet, aside from my heavy breath, the occasional movement outside my door and the sounds of the damned ones trapped around me. Our attention is quickly diverted to the door as the handle squeaks downwards. It slowly opens to reveal a human-like figure, a tall man in a long white coat and large spectacles. He takes a glance at me, prying eyes sinking their teeth into my body to reach my bones. They stop when they discover the still flowing crimson from my knuckles that the floor had slowly been consuming. His eyes trail over to Memoir, eyebrows strewn together in a sick sense of worry. He waves down one of his henchwoman who, upon seeing my freely flowing cells and plasma, quickly strides over and begins trying to trap in with gauze and tight bandage. What words flow from her mouth do not reach my ears, I’m preoccupied by the man in the long coat assessing Memoir as if he were a specimen to be studied, the same way he looks at me. As if we’re both in small test tubes and he’s waiting for an inevitable chemical reaction. All for his scientific entertainment. He starts taking small fragments from Memoirs face, but Memoir keeps his gaze fixed on me. It would be a long while till we could sit in silence together, but I silently promised him that I would keep him in my thoughts, I would not let the man in the white coat and his many underlings take our bond that we spent so long building. He would remain when those who can freely walk take all else. I say goodbye to Memoir and lay down on my cot, feeling its harsh fabric snide at me as more of the man’s lackeys enter to remove the broken mirror. The walls continue mourning his exit.

851 words

09/09/24

#queer writers #writerblr #writers on tumblr #writing #short fiction #short story #author #fiction #story

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midsummernight13 · 6 months ago

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A Lecture on Ceremorphosis

Her first night in the wilds, Ren is subjected to a lecture on the changes the mindflayer parasite should be putting her through.

Gale didn’t so much as glance in her direction as Ren approached, (a bit rude, she thought, considering he'd been the one to call her over) too absorbed with studying his mirror image. The illusion tilted its head and shifted in perfect sync with its caster, and when Gale did deign to acknowledge her presence the not-Gale spoke too, its voice overlapping with his in a way that made the hair on the back of her neck stand on end.

"Be with you in a moment."

Of course a wizard couldn't simply look at their reflection in a lake ten feet from them, they had to go about it in the most unsettling way possible. Ren suppressed a shudder and crossed her arms. "Neat trick," she said.

Gale glanced over his shoulder, a wry smile twisting his lips. "Not a trick, magic." He turned his attention back to the illusion, studying it for a moment longer before dismissing it with a wave of his hand. The not-Gale disappeared in a burst of purple light, and Gale turned to her with a serious expression.

"You told Nettie there was nothing odd about our tadpoles."

The statement caught Ren off guard. "I did," she said, suddenly feeling very cautious. She didn't like the way the wizard was looking at her. His expression made her feel like she was a child again, about to be lectured for whatever mischief she'd fallen into. "Why?"

"Because there is something strange about our tadpoles," Gale said. "What do you know about ceremorphosis?"

Ren thought back to the woman they'd found back on the Nautaloid, shortly after she and the githyanki had freed Shadowheart from her pod, and the botched attempted to help her. She'd heard rather than seen the poor soul's transformation, but the sound of her body tearing itself apart and rearranging into an illithid had left a strong impression.

"I know it's incredibly painful," she said finally. "Which is all I really need to know."

"There is much more to it than pain. Day one," Gale began counting down, ticking his points off on his fingers as he spoke, "fever and memory loss. Day two, hallucinations and graying skin. Day three, hair loss, and blood leaking from all orifices. Need I go on?"

"I suspect you will whether I want you to or not."

The grin she got in return didn't reach his eyes. "Day four is where the real pain starts, as the skeleton and organs start to disolve and rearrange themselves. Day five, the host's personality disappears and their limbs begin to elongate. Day six the flesh around the mouth splits to make way for tentacles, and finally day seven: a mindflayer is born."

"Not the most pleasant of pictures," Ren drawled. She paused, sorting through the information he'd thrust upon her to get to whatever point he'd been trying to make.

"We should have a fever by now," she said, "and probably graying skin as well."

"Exactly right.Yet our thoughts are coherent, our orifices are blissfully unbloodied, and our blood temperature normal. Any expert would agree that this is…abnormal."

The idea that not only was there a mindflayer worm nestled in her brain, but that worm was in fact some sort of mutant did nothing to ease the dread she'd carefully boxed away since she'd first stepped out of the mindflayer pod. Ren crossed her arms, as if the simple gesture could keep the emotion in check and regarded Gale carefully.

"Alright then," she said. "You’re the alleged expert; why do you think we aren't changing?"

"It's not alleged expertise if you've actually done the studying." Gale actually sounded terse; it seemed Ren had managed to hit a nerve. The satisfaction she got from finding a crack in his self-assured facade was short lived however, as Gale sighed and said, "Sadly this is where my knowledge falls short. I'm sure that others would would be quick to label this a miracle or luck but as a pragmatist I only see the calm before the storm." He shook his head as though to clear it. "Just something to think on. We should get some rest."

The dismissal was obvious, and Ren was glad for it. The last thing she needed was the wizard picking up on how much his theories on altered tadpoles and vague portent of doom had rattled her.

#just a scene rewrite to hammer out the early dynamic between Gale and my Tav #gale of waterdeep #bg3 tav

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delxsive · 1 year ago

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graveyard-ripper:

no, misty wants to shout – strong and full of conviction. no, this is not our last kiss, DON’T SAY THAT. but the words sputter upon lips that are wet with tears, and she just shakes her head. ( god, she is an ugly crier. the tears are so full and so many that it seems as though her eyeballs are leaking from her skull. her teeth are bared; they seem to rattle in her mouth, unsteady as the rest of her – as if they will fall out the moment she falls apart. )

the concrete is cold when she sits down. the back of ivy’s neck is HOT. misty holds her there, leans her closer, and presses a wet and wavering kiss to her forehead. even after what they fought about, she’s never been good at saying no to her partner. ❝ you need to keep your eyes open, ❞ she chokes. ❝ look at me. ❞

easier said than done, because the blood is fast-escaping, and misty looks every bit as terrified as she feels; because the light is fading from murky irises, and that is a merciless reality that she does not want to face. but she does it for her partner. she leans ivory back and looks her in the eye as if she’s never truly looked at her before. ❝ ivory, i need to know if you have a will. ❞

misty rucker finds STRENGTH in those words. even though she’s failed to protect the young woman, even though she may still fail to save her, she will be here – STEADFAST – for her in death. she will ensure that ivory grimes is shown the utmost care and that her wishes are enacted exactly as she wanted them, because, at this point, it might be all that the embalmer can do.

cold lips meet a clammy forehead, and although it was not the gesture the brunette had pleaded for, it comforts her ( though there is a nagging weight upon the scholar's chest, a voice indicating that she SHOULD have savoured her last kiss with misty rucker. . . less this be the final time those strong arms anchor her through the turbulent storm that is their reality. )

LOOK AT ME. oh, her eyes are closed. . . when did they close ? the hysteria in the embalmer's voice is enough to confirm the importance of the request, though it is so difficult, and the safety of the arms that hold her crumbing form together makes it so much easier to succumb to darkness. misty rucker won't let any harm come to her ; this is the only safety the scholar has ever truly known, and it has never let her down before. . .

as her form is pulled backward, away from the comfort found in her partner's proximity, dark hues blink drowsily, acknowledging the importance of misty rucker's inquiry ( for the older woman, that question is perhaps one of the most important, because honouring her in death would be the most intimate undertaking misty can accomplish. ) to say ivory grimes is UNLUCKY would be an understatement, though she had built a foundation upon the scorched ashes that had fallen at her feet. of course, someone like her would have a will, because many assume she has a death wish.

❝ the desk in my study.❞ AND IN THAT WILL are vague discussions, because ivory grimes does not care about death in the same way as misty rucker. she does not have a preference for where she is buried, or of what is written on her headstone. she does not care about ceremonies or where they are held. katherine will tackle that undertaking, and will take with her whatever trinkets from the scholar's home help her to cope with losing her daughter again. but as far as the rest of her life, it had been a no-brainer what should be done with her possessions. ❝ you'll use it to care for your mother. ❞ the killer croaks, because, in life, she would have done the same for her partner in crime.

#graveyard-ripper #v; part time girlfriend.

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muffindaddystyles · 3 years ago

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Someone hurts Y/N at work; and Harry’s owner of the company.

Angry young man CEO!H very protective of his lovie :)))))))))))))

It was Tuesday. Tiring Tuesday is what Y/N calls them to be because they lurk in the middle of week and drags you after a Monday. Today, it’s the worst fucking Tuesday since the day she started working at this company.

Harry offered her. More to say tried to convince her with his sweet puppy tactics, tried to lure her in with his seductive begging and would mumble the same thing in her sweaty neck while balls deep in her, “Please sweet toots ... promise I wouldn’t be there to take ye' interview, please work in my company.” He squished her sides in desperation. Y/N whined, mind too occupied in the way he’s leaking into her, the head of his cock angled to rub at her spongy wall making her hug herself into him.

“I could be a very hard boss in my office, ‘s all ‘m saying.” He wiggled his brows at her playfully, hissing when his double joke earned him a tight fit around his prick and he was soon forgetting all of it when she canted her hips to let him slick deeper inside her.

It’s not that; Y/N doesn’t wants to work at his company. When her boyfriend asked her so sweetly and stout-heartedly. Call him a sap but he actually wants to be closer to her in every possible chance he gets – she gives him an unyielding amount of comfort and happiness when she’s with him.

There’s this silver of pride he wants to take (since he’s the biggest narcissists) in being a power couple, because in the end everything will be theirs.

But she doesn’t want to seem like she took advantage of him. She didn’t study and worked hard many years to be called dependent on her boyfriend. She wanted to find her first proper job herself – feel all the odds and jitters of her firsts after UNI.

Harry called the battles off knowing his little stubborn baby’s too much a wiggler and he believes in her and he’s very proud of her previous achievements, he just wants to see her happy working with him or not.

She indeed got it. She was finally a design editor at a grand magazine company, excited to meet her boss who’s one of her absolute favourite graphic designers in the industry.

Harry and her celebrated her baby step towards her success by going out at this cafe which had cats you can pet and love on.

He was blissed to see her this happy, considering it a win win situation. But she doesn’t need to know? Does she? And Harry didn’t do anything suspicious? Did he? Nobody even know who she's! And if Y/N wants that, he’ll have it that way.

Soon her enthusiasm deflated like a sorrowful balloon whirling in the air for seconds before falling on the ground and getting it’s existence neglected, because, her boss was the meanest bitch alive.

At the moment, Y/N forced the pertinacious lump of pathetic tears down her throat, not blinking to dry out the moisture threatening to fall from her waterline feeling humiliation creep up her skin and making her want to shrink into herself and never show her face.

She listens patiently and optimistically as her boss practically screams at her for not liking the designs Y/N worked to modify for damn 62 hours and the Karen still had an audacity to degrade, Y/N.

Y/N gasped, stumbling back in fright shock when the file that had her precious designs composed in it flew and hit Y/N, the ragged corner of it scratching Y/N’s delicate skin and her boss was spinning away from her to stare coldly at the bustling city outside through the window drowning into fumes and anger.

Y/N opened her mouth, guppy like. Wanting to say something back and call her out on her act but she felt like her voice got strangled into her chest.

ShitShitShitShit.

Hammering in her brain when she felt something warm oozing from her skin and she’s panicking, wiping a vicious streak of blood from her jaw with her trembly fingers and scuttled straight to the washroom before anyone was able to see her in such vulnerable condition.

She had enough of it and left out of there without a word to anyone, not even to her cubby mate. She bottled all the emotions that were rattling against her bones to flood out of her each pore, until she could reach her home and once she did she was having a humongous and ominously scary breakdown, glad that Harry was stuck in meetings and the house was all of hers to cry ugly.

Once she was all blue lips, puffy and swelled up cheeks and eyes, nest of a hairstyle and all burned up lungs she was calming herself down with deep breaths just Harry taught her.

Scrubbing and cleaning herself off then going to bed without waiting for Harry, something very rare and the right hit in the nail for him to know she isn’t feeling well.

He was welcomed by silence. No dinner, just leftovers in fridge and his insides became all crummy and not very pleasant when he tailed to the living room and wasn’t met by his lovebug; either cramming her head to sketch down designs with an ipad in her lap while a buzz of random Netflix show accompanies her, dossing off cutely with hundreds of her study journals and magazines messed around her on the floor, or her in sleeping pyjamas with food already set up on the coffee table and brightening the whole room with her squeals when Harry announces his presence.

None of that instead he finds her in their bedroom, drowned under layers of blankies and her stuffies with room lit dark.

He coos softly, mattress dipping down from his weight and his heart expands and melts all around his other organs at how adorable she looks sleeping in his hoodie. He chuckles shaking his head at the way she has the strings of the hoodie squeezed around her head, not sure how she’s able to breath at how tight it seems around her neck.

Doing his own routine he was slipping into the bed, sighing from the warmth and how toasty she has made the bed already.

He bunched her against his chest and kissed her head then spooned her up in his arms, lips fluttering into a smile when she hummed and sniffed basking into his scent.

“Oi sleepy.” He whispers down at her cupping her neck and giggles softly when she whines mushing her cheek against his chest only to grunt sleepily and muffle her yelps into his sweatshirt.

Harry’s brows shoots up into slight bafflement then dips down into a frown when he slipped his calloused palm under her hoodie to cradle her jaw and felt something graze against his thumb that was about to press into her soft skin to bring her for a night kiss.

“Hey...” He perches himself on elbows, switching on the lamps and ignores her groans grasping the blanket she was about to pull over herself, huffing at him to let her sleep but Harry’s more stubborn than her if it involves assuring himself she’s okay and right now she’s not and Harry was already feeling it in his bones.

“Lemme see.” He persists gently, peeling the blankets and the hoodie off her head while she’s still stirring into sleep not able to open her eyes how much she tries because of the exhaustion dumped on her from whole day.

He stares at the wound she did a shit effort to cover with a gauze messily over her jaw and tiny bit area of her neck, a long bandage reaching to her ear and Harry tries to think rationally and not freak out as he touches it with cautious fingertips.

“What ... the –- fuck, Y/N what is...is this?” His mouth falls slack. His ears buzzing for a moment and he wraps his arm around her shoulder to bring her up as he leans them against the bedhead.

He feels bad when she knuckles at her eyes warily and mumbles something that’s barely audible.

“What happened, baby? Talk t’me? How did y'hurt yourself so bad?” Worried and fearful. He bombs her with questions not waiting for her to be fully awake and his heart breaks miserly upon focusing his gaze on her face, her angelic face that’s now soaked with sadness –- she’s been crying.

His loves been crying and he wasn’t there for her.

“Who did this to you?” Y/N's eyes widens abruptly. The alertness in them vivid for Harry to see under the lamp glow and she gasps, nose twitching and lip wobbling as Harry grabbed her chin and ducked to her eyelevel to ask her tenderly with a layer of strictness under his tone, “’M asking, Who did this to you, Y/N?” Her fragile heart could already take so much and she strangled out a sob lowering her head down in embarrassment.

“’M.. I’m —-.. no –..not telli –-..telling you,” She hiccups breathlessly, shaky fingers fisting onto the blanket thrown over Harry’s lap and he holds her hands kissing them gently, “I’ll know it one way or another baby. Don’t force me to get outta my way to find —–“ His soul stabbing glare was enough for Y/N to ramble and at first he thought he didn’t heard her right, that she was mumbling too much but when the reality seeped in gradually Harry almost froze in his spot.

“I know it’s very shameful —..” Y/N stammers barely able to get in a breather and Harry’s head snapped at her words, removing his nails away from making little graves in his palms and his jaw which almost felt like breaking from the hinges from how painfully furious he had it set relaxes as he tries to calm himself down and not to grab his keys and drive to that bitch's house to trash her place.

Because how fucking dare she treat anyone like that in his own fucking company.

“Hey, hey. Now none of that toots. Look at me darling, oh my sweet moppet ... shh.” It slices his heart in pain to see Y/N like this -- so small and disheartened. How dare she hurt his such delicate, sweet, loving girl like that? How!?

“You shouldn’t be ashamed of yourself moppet. She should be, fo’ being such a heartless prick.” He spat, his guts full of bitter and hatred. His skin hot, his grip on her tightening protectively and his chin quivers trying to lock all his anger inside and not to burst out like a pressure cooker.

“I’ll deal with her tomorrow.” He nods curtly to himself, poking his tongue to wet his grimacing lips and Y/N was too woolly to get what��s he’s saying.

His gaze flitters back on her. His demeanour turned incredibly soft and gentle for her smooching a big generous kiss to her salty lips and then to both of her cheeks cared in both of his palms, “Are y'okay? D'you want me to take you to hospital?” She shakes her head mewling and melting and caressing herself into his wrist.

“Why didn’t you call me baby?” He asks her doing anything in his power to mask the hurt in his tone and sighs touching his forehead to her's when Y/N sniffled, “Didn’t wan’ you to worry.” He slid his forearm under her bum and scooched her atop of him, patching tiny careful pecks to her jaw.

“But, that’s love moppet. Worryin’ bout you, takin’ care of ye' and beating anyone raw who even dares to have evil intentions towards you,”

“Remember the time y'snubbed that one guy’s oh so expensive shoes who was very rude to me at one of your graduations party?” His simper turning into a proper ironic grin when she giggled hoarsely nodding along and the tension in his muscles released watching her getting better.

“Proper broke his big toe with your heel darling.” He giggles with her and then Y/N realised how sad and awful Harry’s feeling, how it’s hurting him the same way it hurt her an year ago.

“How about we have a glass of milk .... it’ll help us sleep less grumpy y'know.” He murmurs in the crook of her neck, elbow cocooned safely around her shoulder blade as he kisses the side of her head again and again nose buried in her hair to smell her treacly smell.

In the morning he was tragic to hear Y/N sound so heartbroken and dejected as she told him, “I’m going to resign and accept your offer.” Her smile small and sad, hugging him looping her limbs around his torso lazily.

“’kay baby, but first eat your brekkie.” He kissed her hair and squished her pout when he moved away to make some calls to his assistant.

Y/N had no-idea what he was upto. Glad that he was driving her to the company and that he was immensely supportive of her decision, her insides pooled with warmth and giddiness when he tried to cheer her up with his silly jokes and singing along the radio murmuring rubbish whenever he forgot the lyrics.

She was utterly confused when upon reaching he was giving the keys to valet boy to park his car and interviewing their fingers in a strong grip before leading her inside, even though she should be the one to do so.

She sputters a, “Huh?” when instead of telling her he’d wait for her in the lobby he’s rounding the corner towards the elevators and turns his wrist to push her infront of him to keep her closer to himself all the time.

When the doors are sliding apart the people scurrying outside halts for a moment, not looking Harry in eyes and keeping their heads low.

Phones were already rung in the building that Mr. Styles will be coming un-announced and everyone should be prepared to face the consequences if they stumble upon him – because well he isn’t in such a nice mood to start with.

“Harry.” She pokes him in ribs feebly, stepping away from him feeling timid due to few pair of eyes in elevator watching her awkwardly and maybe judgingly.

The tension in space could be cut through knife, as if everyone’s holding their breaths and she pouts taking a good look at Harry who’s smirking smugly confident in his element.

Do they all think her boyfriend’s way too intimidating and out of reach for them? They should know he’s such a sweetie!

Y/N huffs. Folding her arms over chest when Harry paws at her hips and pulls her back against his chest resting his chin atop of her head with a shit eating grin.

In all seriousness. Showing them that’s she’s his's and belongs under his wings, which will keep her safe and protected till his death.

“How did you know my boss's office’s on tenth floor?” She squints up at him suspiciously.

“Hmm. Dunno, moppet. Magical powers or summat?” He teases her, putting a hand at the small of her back to nudge her forward making her blush pink and ducks down to whisper in her ear, “You got this toots.” Biting her earlobe playfully to stroke down her anxiety upon sensing her hesitancy to step in the hallway that has cubicles lined up.

He already got this. He ordered his assistant to get the resign letter ready and showing her who’s the boss here’s not much of hurdle for him.

It’s weird. Bloody weird. Y/N wants to turn back and run away because the moment they step inside the whole damn hallway falls eerily pin drop silent and everyone’s peeking up from the short walls of their cubicles and then diverting their eyes immediately in embarrassment and apology seeing Harry behind her.

The ones who’re standing bows their heads lightly in respect for him and scurrying away to give him a way and that’s insanely surprising and weird.

Harry on the other hand was no stranger to those bogey looks. Of curiosity, uneasiness and dread when he passes through the crowd of his employs. Y/N is.

Slowly perhaps. It starts to sink in— jumbled and disoriented when she looks back at Harry. He’s keeping his head held high and shoulders tilted back with poise and conceitedness, hands stuffed into the pockets of his pants and because though it makes him look like a proper snob— he is their boss and the owner of this company, he should act like one.

“Mr. Styles.” Y/N’s boss assistant Marina who’s usually very chirpy (and undeserving of all the yelling she gets from her boss) turns pale at Harry’s presence. She’s the only person Y/N's very keen of, now she’s fretting towards them with her head lowered and tries to stammer something but Harry’s walking past her with his lips pursued as he goes inside without knocking.

“Harry...” Y/N tattles behind him, lunging to clutch onto the hem of his suits coat, to scold him to stop babying her and let her handle it herself, too late since she’s already meeting with the sight of her overly stressed and upset boss.

Her knees almost gives in when Harry snaps his fingers for the employees that were inside to give them privacy and takes in the most relaxing breath of oxygen, feeling a gag of bitterness in his mouth from even looking at her.

Y/N gasped. Her boss (which she’s not sure is her boss anymore) gasped. The sweet assistant Marina gasped. When Harry told her in the most composing way– though his blood’s boiling absolutely sheathing through his veins.

“You’re fired.” His demeanour cold and voice monotone not giving a fuck how much she shakes and cries for his forgiveness.

“Mr. Styles. I..I can explain–-" She stammers rushing from the back of her desk and stops obediently when Harry gestures her to not to take another step forward.

“There’s no excuse for abuse. I don’t want your lame explanations, I can’t have an abusive asshole running my company for me ... we might be strict on our employees but we aren’t monsters.” He grits, his eyes flaring piercingly with rage and showing no empathy towards her as she pleads him to forgive her mistake– those bricks of money makes you work baby.

“You hurt someone so dearly to me ‘n think I’ll forgive ye'?” The assistance eye’s blows away at newfound information, Harry Styles love of life’s none other than Y/N. The girl she used to have smoked sandwiches and milkshakes with in their lunch breaks.

“I didn’t know ...” He chuckles ironically at her hypocrisy and that’s the last straw for him before he’s threatening her to call the security and she’s getting out of there cursing him under her breath but Harry grabs her from elbow roughly, conceding his brow at her dauntingly.

"Apologise to her right fuckin' now."

"Sorry, Mrs Styles. I'm very ashamed of what I did." She says nervously and Y/N nods not able to speak from the butterflies that are flapping around her stomach, which sure didn't go unnoticed at Harry's side and he smirks at Y/N.

When they’re left alone. Jovial cackles are bouncing against the walls and he’s pressing his hip to the desk, securing his hands around his triceps as he folds his arms infront of his chest entertaining himself to the cute and fuzzy reactions of his girl at what just happened.

“See. Told ya, nobody could defy my bossiness at work.” He grins at her, jerking his hand towards his chest to usher her closer to him and boops her nose smacking an obnoxiously loud kiss to her mouth when she toddles in his arms.

“The offers still there,” He looks down at her cheekily and she shakes her head, a small smile kicking up her lips at his determination and devotion.

“Couldn’t say no to you, could I? What will you be owning secretly next time?” She nips at him, planting her palms firmly against his midriff feeling the crispiness of his shirt underneath his jacket.

“A bakery shop ....?” He muses in the most pondering voice and she scoffs at him through pattering of giggles, “Suck it up Mr. Styles.”

“Hey! I know my prick’s huge but not tha’ much for me to suck it myself.”

Y/N chokes onto her own spit. Shaking her head at him.

“Your innocent employees knows how vulgar you’re?”

“Uhmm. Infact, She gets very hot hearin’ me like tha'.” He bobs his head grinning at her wickedly and she smacks his shoulder, “Harry!”

“Yeahhh! Tell everyone how good I make you feel babbbyy—....” Y/N clamps her hand around his mouth to muffle his lewd fake moaning.

“You’re so embarrassing.” She grumbles wiping his spit sticking to her palm down her skirt and spins around to head for the door expecting him to follow her.

“You don’t talk to boss like that!” He trails behind her, “Boss my ass!” She quips out a squeal looking around to make sure that nobody saw it when Harry slapped her bum.

“Boss someone’s ‘bout to get a pink ass.”

#ceo!harry #ceo!h x y/n #ceo!h x reader #ceo!h x fem!reader #harry stylss angsty drabble #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #harry styles smut #harry styles #cute harry #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #fluff #harry angst #hsh #dom harry

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erodasfishtacos · 4 years ago

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The Brits Dilemma

” Prompt: Harry & Y/N go to the Brits. It’s the first time they’ve been away from their baby. Y/N is struggling but doesn’t want to ruin the night for her husband.

Word Count: 1.8 k +

Warnings: Depictions of breastfeeding

+++++++

The award show was going well. It was the first time Y/N had been out in nearly three months besides a few brunch dates and grocery shopping.

Usually, she was pretty confident in what she wore to accompany her husband to all of these flashy events - but not tonight.

Her bump had deflated but she was still attempting to get rid of the stubborn pouch that stayed after the baby had been born. It wasn’t anything out of the norm - just still trying to lose it.

She was breastfeeding and her breasts were much larger than before. They felt heavy and too big for her body. Not to mention, they were constantly swollen and achey. Pads were a must so she doesn’t leak through the tight satin black dress.

The dress was a beautiful custom design by Gucci that complimented Harry’s sharp suit but nothing felt right. It was digging into her sides and made it hard for her to sit on her chair.

The Brits were held in the O2 Arena which wasn’t very far from their London home but she felt like she was lightyears away from her baby. Even though she knew Sasha was in good hands with Anne.

Y/N was so proud of Harry for being up for five - yes, five different awards. It was a record for him and she didn’t want to let him down by complaining. It was his night. He’s been such a devote father - he deserved a break too.

So she swallowed down the anxiety she was feeling about being away from their little newborn for the night along with her worries about her changing body.

There was milling about between the tables before the show got started. Harry had people coming up him constantly - congratulating him on the album, the nominations, the baby.

Married life and fatherhood suited him well. A dazzling wedding band on his left ring finger, a necklace with an S for his daughter, along with her name freshly inked on right above his butterfly tattoo.

The open jacket he wore with is his barely buttoned dress shirt displayed it proudly. It was beautiful, done delicately in a timeless cursive. The font match his wife name that was tattooed on his hand.

He couldn’t lie and say he wasn’t excited to have a night out with his wife. He had Jeff booked a hotel for the night to have some alone time with you while his mum got to enjoy a night with her only grandchild.

Y/N was counting down the hours up until tomorrow when she could go home to see her baby. She should really tell Harry that she wants to go home and not out to a club and the hotel.

But the it just slowly starts to deteriorate further when a bald, plump business exec comes to greet the two of you. He gives his warm wishes about the birth of your child before smiling at Y/N and stating, “The baby weight will come off soon enough.”

Her throat closes up a bit and she self-consciously tries to push her chair closer to the table. It was the last thing that she needed to hear. Confirming all of her worst insecurities.

Harry glares at the man before turning to his wife, “Hey, you look s’perfect, my love. I’m so bloody lucky you’re mine.”

He’s truly trying his hardest to bring a smile to her face but he notices it’s never quite meeting her eyes.

It get even worse when Harry gets his first award, male solo artist of the year.

As she’s standing and clapping for him - she realizes she’s beginning to leak through her nipple inserts.

Y/N excuses herself in the middle of his acceptance speech to rush through the string of tables - out into the corridor. The last thing she wanted to do was for it to show up on a very expensive dress.

The echo of his voice can still be heard, “Love to thank my beautiful wife who makes writing sappy love songs easy and was the main inspiration for my recent album. She also just gave birth to our beautiful baby.....”

She feels awful when she tunes him out, finding the bathroom and hurriedly rushing in. There’s a gorgeous woman standing at the sink, washing their hands.

Fucking Taylor Swift.

Any other time it’d be awkward and uncomfortable - running into an ex who wrote multiple songs about her husband.

But she couldn’t careless right now, “Hi, erm, this is really weird but could you unzip my dress? I’m leaking and - shit that was way too much information.”

But Taylor smiles kindly, “No! It’s okay, totally. No worries. Congratulations on your baby - you look so hot tonight.”

Y/N laughs and thanks her for unzipping the dress before going into a stall and locking the door. She slides her bra straps off her shoulders and disposes of the soaked pad in the sanitary bin.

Luckily, she has a clean burp rag that she gently swipes at her breast - wincing as it brushes against her swollen nipples. Even the soft fabric felt too rough on them.

It’s a minute or two before the bathroom door swings open, “Y/N? Lovie? Are you in ‘ere?”

She feels guilt at the panic in his voice. Managing to croak out, “I’m in here,” before leaning forward to unlock the door.

Harry waste no time in sliding into the stall before latching the lock again. Taking in the sight of his wife in front of him.

“I-I started leaking, M’sorry,” Y/N whispers, she has no reason to feel embarrassed but she is. “I missed your speech.”

“None of that, baby. I’ll give more speeches for you to hear - I only care that you’re okay. I’m sorry y’leakin, lemme help you, pet.”

In true Harry fashion, he takes the rag and turns on the sink - running it under warm water before carefully cleaning his wife up.

“Are they botherin’ you? They look irritated and super swollen, darling,” Harry frowns, a very gentle thumb coming to brush against her nipple. Then cupping her swollen breast in his hand, thumb rubbing at the pink skin.

“Just a little bit,” She lies, they’re absolutely on fire with chafing and skin irritation from the bra she’s wearing. She never thought she’d miss her nursing bras and sports bras this much.

He nods and helps place new inserts in her bra. Who’d think this is what Harry would be doing between accepting awards. Everyone unassuming in the arena.

Harry has been four for four thus far into the ceremony. They’d only had him go up and give two acceptance speeches. His hand firmly planted on his wife’s thigh throughout.

When he went up for his second award, the camera zooms in and the crowd coos are he plants a kiss on his wife’s lips before pulling her into a hug - whispering something into her ear the audience can’t hear.

He was much more focused on his wife. He could read her fairly well - he’d like to think. Enough to know she’s having much fun. But he didn’t want to bring it up and make her feel bad.

Harry sees the way she keeps adjusting her bra, fidgets with his rings when his hands in his lap, and not even really looking up while one of her favorite artist - Dua Lipa -performs.

Y/N loved a good party before the baby. So Harry was hoping going to the Brits afterparty would make her feel better and then going back to their hotel room for a some alone time.

Y/N has been increasingly quiet when they’re exiting the arena after the final award artist of the year - which Harry had also won.

He was on cloud nine and admittedly a little distracted as he joked and laughed with a small group of friends on the way out.

“Alright, should we all just pile into a cab for the ride to the party?” Nick Grimshaw asks everyone.

Everyone is in agreement - including Harry -as he calls to order one - standing in the blocked off area away from fans and paparazzi.

Y/N wants to tell him she wants to go home to Sasha but when she hears him say, “Can’t wait to get to Exhibit - haven’t been there in forever. One of my favorite clubs.”

She bites her tongue. Harry is enjoying his night out - why can’t she?

In the taxi, she’s sat on Harry’s lap as they make their way to the club. His one hand is on her inner thigh and the other is on her waist holding her steady.

In the morning, she’ll blame her post-partum hormones and anxiety. But she doesn’t even realizing her eyes are filling with tears and when she blinks they spill down her face.

She wouldn’t feel as embarrassed if she wasn’t in the car full of literal celebrities who are filled with adrenaline and excitement. Chattering and drinking from little liquor bottles they’d snuck in their jackets and clutches.

“Y/N, are you alright?” Rita Ora asks from her seat - noticing the streaks ruining your makeup.

She nods pathetically, wiping at her eyes but Harry is turning her to face him. His bright green eyes filled with concern as he studies her face.

The previously very obnoxiously loud cab becomes silent as they try to give the couple a semblance of non-existent privacy.

“What’s happening, dove? Are you hurting?” Harry panics, coming to wipe the smeared makeup away.

“I don’t want to go to the club,” Y/N sniffles, squeezing her eyes shut at how embarrassed she is of her behavior. She would usually never act this way - especially in public. And Harry knows that so it makes him even more concerned.

“That’s okay, pet. We can go have a night in, when the cab stops - we can uber back to the hotel,” Harry soothes, surprised when that brings on fresh tears.

“N-no, I want to go home. I miss the baby, I want to- need to see our baby. I-I can’t do this. My anxiety is through the roof, Harry. What if she can’t sleep? Or isn’t taking the bottle?”

“Baby, breathe, breathe. We can go home. I miss the bub terribly too. Have been worried about her all night.”

Harry tugs his wife into his chest further - tucking her head into his neck as he shoots his friends grateful looks. They all nod, sympathetic and understanding - despite them not having kids of their own.

“I ruined your night,” Y/N says softly in the back of the uber home. “I leaked during the show; cried in front of all your friends.”

Harry takes her chin gentle but firm until she meets his gaze, “You didn’t ruin anything f’me. All I care about is you and the baby - not some stupid award ceremony or party.”

He continues on, “You just gave us Sasha three months ago - y’bloody amazing. Best mum, best wife. Sexiest too - know you don’t think that right now but your body literally grew my baby. I get a hard-on everytime I see you.”

They both laugh, Y/N leaning forward to capture her husbands lips in a meaningful kiss of gratitude and thanks.

Anne smiles kindly when the two of them arrive home. A very fussy, red-faced swaddled baby coddled in her arms.

“She hasn’t settled for quite a while now - she missed her parents very much,” Harry’s mum tells them, transferring her into her father’s arms. He’s automatically rocking and running his thumb over her cheek.

“Ooh, we missed you. Was Nana nice to you?” Harry coos. Sasha has already quieted and is blinking tearfully up at her smiling father.

“Such a good girl, best girl,” Y/N sighs, leaning in to kiss her downy hair. Harry’s hand coming to wrap around his wife’s waist as they peer down at their perfect little daughter.

Anne smiles at his son and daughter-in-law fawning over their little creation with so much love and adoration.

After a minute of chatting -Harry’s mum makes her way up to the guest room after a long night with a miserable baby. They make their way to their room where Y/N strips out of her tight dress and awful bra.

She sits against the headboard in just a pair of soft cotton panties. Harry is gently shushing her and humming a melody as his wife gets situated. He knew she was anxious to feed the baby.

“That’s it my sweet thing. Y’missed us, hm? We missed you too, bub. Nana said y’wouldn’t take the bottle. Only want your mumma, hmm?” Harry coos, kissing her chubby cheeks.

He’s then giving Y/N the baby, who ferociously latching within seconds and begins eating like she’d been starved for the last week. Making weak little rumbles as she does so.

They both giggle fondly, Y/Ns fingers come to touch her fluttering cheek - memorizing her over and over again.

Harry gets onto the bed and settles next to the both of them. Watching his baby feed in amazement at what his wife was capable of. He smears a few kisses against her bare shoulder - hand on his baby’s back.

How strong she was - as he knew it had to be at least a little bit painful with how irritated her nipples had been. He can tell when she winces every once in a while.

He plants a few more kisses to her warm skin - noticing her eyes getting a bit droopy as Sasha feeds at a slow, suckling pace.

“If I’m being honest, being with you - watching you feed our baby...I’d rather be here than at any club.”

Y/N snorts, rolling her eyes, “Sure.”

Her husband frowns, “M’serious, this is all I need, baby.”

“I love you, congratulation on all your Brits,” Y/N murmurs, pecking at his lips.

“I love you too. I meant it, during my speeches. I wouldn’t have been able to write those songs if you hadn’t inspired me. You’ll and the bab will always be the best muse.”

#Harry Styles #harrystylesfanfic #harry styles writing #harry styles drabble #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #dad!harry #dad harry styles #husband!harry #husband harry styles #fic recommendation #harry styles fic rec #harry styles masterlist #harry styles writing request #harry styles request #harry styles reader #requests open!

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tteokdoroki · 4 years ago

Text

— “SHARING IS CARING + DABI/TOUYA TODOROKI.” ft. shoto todoroki.

author’s note(s): i havent written in days bc ive been working on other things but here’s this bc i am a whore. btw reader and shoto are third years/18 in this so hold onto your wigs lol.

warning(s): mdni, 18+. smut, dark content, dub-con, manipulation, cheating, choking, breath play, unprotected sex, exhibitionism, voyerism kinda, corruption!kink, virginity loss, degradation. characters aged up to 18. fem!reader.

touya todoroki has always been better than his brothers, at everything. praised from a young age for his powerful abilities, handsome face and charming smile— touya is the todoroki family’s prized gem. the favourite, prodigy son. the one who always gets what he wants. of course, until precious shoto todoroki arrives.

shoto, the undeniably gorgeous boy with dual chrome eyes and hair to match— an aloofness about him that draws everyone in, especially at school where he excels and wears himself at the top of his class in U.A academy. now; he’s everyone’s favourite boy, endeavour’s, his mother’s and yours. you, the sweet and innocent little girl who lives about two blocks away. the whole neighbourhood knows who you are, the apples of your cheeks stretched into a darling smile, that’s sometimes etched with an air of shyness when someone compliments you on how pretty you are.

you have doe eyes that watch shoto with such awe because you’re so impressed by what he can do, because you love how kindly he treats you and how he protects you from hungry stares belonging to others. touya finds your innocence annoying; the first time his younger brother brings you for dinner. the way you stutter over your words when speaking with rei or enji and how hide behind shoto whenever the eldest enters the room.

but you’re nice to look at, he can see why his pest of a younger sibling keeps you around. does shoto realise how far your skirt rides up over your ass whenever you bend over? how your thighs resembling pillows spill over the tops of your school socks? and how your lips are always so bitten and cherry red— everything about you is so fuckable.

and like i said, touya todoroki always gets what he wants.

“i’m better than him, aren’t i sweetness? you like the way this cock fucks you. c’mon, tell me how good i make you feel.”

touya doesn’t really need an answer, especially when it’s unlikely that he’ll get one from you. pretty little girl, sweet ass up in the air and raw from the onslaught of spanks he’d given you earlier. your cunt shines with a slickness he so proudly knows that he’s caused and your hole puckers around nothing— so eager to be filled by the eldest todoroki’s cock. “t-touya, need you. p-please...” you babble, clawing at his black linen sheets, already stained with nectar from your leaky cunny.

oh you’re so good, so nice for him when you’re fucked dumb and on the edge of frustration— you say just what he wants to hear, so eager to please that you’d beg him for days if it meant you’d get your pussy abused and used. “that’s right little girl, you need me, right? ‘cause lil sho can’t take you the way i do. you need me to show you what it’s like to feel good.”

touya lives for the way your hips jump back from just his dirty words alone, clit pushing deliciously against the tip of his length— you’re so cute when you want it. when you wanna be fucked by an older, more experienced dick. you know that touya has what shoto doesn’t. you know you can always rely on him to make you cum when shoto can’t.

any decent older brother would feel bad for taking advantage of his sibling’s girl, but touya has a point to prove. he’ll always be the better todoroki, he knows that, especially when his burning cock sinks into your tight hole— the one that welcomes him into your velvet walls, so perfectly carved into the shape of him.

a drawn out and gargled whine bubbles in the back of your throat, the stretch making your eyes roll so far back into your head touya would have thought you’d passed out, it wouldn’t have been the first time either.

oh no, he remembers the way he’d made your fleshy thighs quiver and your meek voice turn to screams when he’d taken you in the bathroom across the hall from shoto’s bedroom the first time you stayed the night. or the time that he’d cornered you in the kitchen while you made a study snack for you and your boyfriend, carelessly flipping your skirt up and creaming in your virgin cunt until all you could say were mindlessly repeats of his name. touya. his name always sounded so pretty against jumbled words that slid across your tongue.

that one time in the kitchen, touya had sent you back to shoto’s room with your pink lace panties full of his pungent seed and had listened to shoto fuck it deeper inside of you later that night when you let the younger take you for the first time. touya wonders if his little brother truly believes he was lucky enough to take your virginity or if he knows how much of a whore you are for the eldest, white haired sibling. possession flares in his chest at the very thought, making him plunge himself into the deepest parts of you while you quiver like a little bitch below him.

his piercings drag up and down your gummy walls, friction causing you to drool amongst the pillows that you drown in. touya’s large hand pushes down on the small of your back, shaping your body into an uncomfortable arch— you whimper but don’t complain. taking his dick like you should, accepting him like you should. his balls, oh so heavy with cum, slap against your cheeks while your juices paint his tummy from how much you leak and the lewd sounds fill the air so loud, there’s no doubt poor little shoto todoroki can hear it through the walls.

“sweetness, you’re so bad— sneaking off to let your boyfriend’s big brother make you scream. you’re just a slut for the todoroki dick...aren’t ya? you’d probably let nat in on it too...” touya slurs, drooling at the way your backside bounces with every slam of his hips into you.

“n-no-! no... ‘m not a slut...not a—!” you squeal pathetically, barely able to finish your sentence as touya shoves your face into the sheets harshly— deep chuckle reverberating in his chest as he presses it to your sweaty back.

you still yourself, taking all what he gives to you even if it means you can barely breathe. the eldest todoroki lifts a hand to knock on the thin walls separating him from his little brother; words coming out as breathless as he thrusts into you deeper, harder, faster— abusing your barely prepped hole. “ya’hear that sho, yur lil angel’s not as innocent as you think; she’d let all of us fuck her if we asked nicely...” the way he speaks about you is mean; it could make you cry but all you do in response is clamp down on the man above you and suck him in deeper, selfishly just like he’d taught you. he smirks with pride at how much your cunt lives for him, at how his little brother is getting the show of his life time— probably jerking off to the sounds of his girl getting railed but someone who isn’t him.

touya’s hips stutter and he cums inside you with a shout, thick ropes of his hot seed spraying against your walls and seeping between your puffy folds. ringed fingers find your clit, drawing circles into them until you tip over the edge and tumble into your own release, clamping down so hard that you draw blanks from your boyfriend’s older brother. the way you twitch after touya’s emptied himself inside you, letting him press down on the sweet bulge at your tummy so his cum leaks out— almost makes him want to brush the hair away from your face and kiss you, but he remains objective— treating you as proof that he will always be the superior sibling.

when he’s pulled out of you and helped you to shaky legs to leave— he watched the regret wash over your innocent features like it always does when he’s made a woman out of you. “tell my little brother i said; sharing is caring, sweetness.” touya asks of you oh-so-kindly, revelling in the way your bottom trembles and a fresh set of tears well in your bambi eyes.

what? he couldn’t lie and say he didn’t mean to make you cry, but that would defeat the purpose if he was telling the truth.

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slasherrabbitmadness · 3 years ago

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Victorian DILF Brahms x Female Reader

Series: Don't forget who you belong to.

Chapter 2 - Give me your answer, do

Underthecut - NSFW, Male Masturbation, Oral - Male Receiving.

Brahms sat idly in his living room, leaning back in his large leather recliner. Feet shuffling along the Egyptian carpet, thumbs twiddling as he hums Daisy Bell by Harry Dacre,

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you." He smiles as he thinks of her. How her hair shines in the sun, like a halo above her head. Her eyes sparkling whenever she laughs, how the corner of her eyes crinkles ever so slightly. How her smile makes his heart skip a beat.

Brahms sucks in a breath, his hum-singing continues, "There are bright lights the dazzling eyes of beautiful Daisy Bell." He sits up straight, eyes on the unlit fireplace, the gold gate held an ornate Chinese dog welded on the front. He looks above the fireplace to the mantel, the rows of photos in their ash wood frames.

His face is stern as he glances at a particular photo. He, a half-smile as his hand rests on his son's shoulder. Lawrence when he was a boy of eight. Lawrence's other shoulder had a delicate white hand upon it. Gerti, her lips dark with her favourite shade of lipstick, her slight freckles littered her face, her silky blonde hair up in a beautiful age-appropriate bun.

His hum-singing fades as he continues to stare, the family photo, the family in the photo appearing as sharp and elegant as their social standing. That day, Gerti had scolded him all morning, her eyes wide and glossy, her alabaster skin held a blue and yellow hue under her eyes. Her fingers were cold and clammy.

"For the love of everything, Brahms, hurry for once." Brahms flinches as he can still hear her screeching, "Lawrence, get the cat's paw out of your mouth and stop pulling its tail!" He chuckles,

"I miss that cat," Brahms laughs to himself. Never one for pets but how that scraggly little beast could make his son laugh in the most jovial way, warmed him greatly.

His amused grin falls as his eyes lock with Gerti's. Grabbing the photo, his thumb ghosts over her image, remembering how once soft her skin was. His stomach churns as a chill seeps into his bones, shaking him in his spot.

He places the family photo back on the mantle, right next to a photo of her. Her hands grasping each other, face tilted slightly, a timid smile upon her face. "Sir, I don't need my photo taken!"

"Y/n, as my employee of a year, you are practically family." Brahms let out a shaky breath as his mind replays the conversation. "And you may call me, Brahms. You address Gerti by her full name."

"Gerti and are intimate in ways that have allowed us to be close."

"Pray tell may I watch these intimate moments?" His cheeky reply had cost him an ear full from his wife when she had found out. Brahms still never understood why women used such charged words to describe a close friendship.

Brahms left the living room, a stirring in his gut had him heave. He wanted to call upon her for aid, 'Fetch me a water with some ice, and actually bring some black tea and one of our lemons from Italy.' he clears his throat at the thought of dryness being washed back by the cold refreshment.

He had given her a few hours a week for personal time. Free to be spent however she pleased. Ever since the death of his wife and Lawerence attending Rugby School for Boys she had more free time. Much to Brahms immense displeasure.

Brahms had taken to stalking her on her days off. Wanted to see what she got up to. Where she went and specifically with who. He would linger twenty feet behind, always darting behind stalls and other tall men to hide, he even took to wearing a coat that he kept hidden in hopes she would not recognize him further.

He stared in amazement at how well she helped an old lady onto the trolley all the while juggling her belongings, refusing a 'tip' "It's the nice thing to do." in reference to helping others.

His cheeks flushed whenever she stopped to smell the flowers, literally. A quaint smile as she turned down the offer for a free one from the vendor. She often stopped to sniff the white and yellow flowers. He had noticed Daisys were her favorite.

He seethed when one day you were stopped by a handsome Youngman, his tall lean frame stood confidently as his dark brown eyes held a softness as they looked down at you. He had overheard the name in a distinctly American accent, "Dan, yeah I'm studying medicine with my colleague, I'd introduce you but..." He hated that you always walked near the campus, hated all the young men eager, too eager to chat up a single young lady.

Dan had never gotten farther than chaste conversations and one quick feather-light kiss on her cheek.

Brahms wondered if he should up and move, just to be a little further away from the university, away from the young men, away from one of them stealing her away. She was his, he had just yet to convince her. Ask her, even bring it up in any conceivable way.

One occasion made the blood sear in his veins. He should have been more away, should have been more vigilant of this Dan fellow. He watched from a distance as Dan rounded the corner and collided with her. His tall body fell over hers, his hand had just managed to catch the back of her head, softening to the blow to the ground.

"Oh, God! I am so sorry!" Dan's eyes wide in shock, "Oh, I'm so sorry."

She laughed, "No, no, it's fine," Brahms gritted his teeth.

"No, it's not." Dan pulled himself and her up, his hand holding her in a firm grasp. "I am so sorry." He scratched the back of his head, his expression doleful.

"Accidents happen." She assured, grabbing his hand still wrapped around hers. " It's okay Dan."

"You remember me!" Dan's brown eyes lit up. A Radiant smile over his face as he stepped closer to her.

Brahms seethed as the scene played out before him. She smiled, he smiled. She laughed, he laughed. The words between the two began to fall effortlessly between them both.

He watched despondently. How she could let herself relax so easily in another man's presence. How her demeanor shifted around Dan. Those stiff shoulders eased themselves as Dan placed his hand on her shoulder and winked.

Brahms cursed, the university's chapel bell rang out. Every thunderous clang shot through Brahms. Every clang was a reminder he had another place to be. The dreaded desk in the dreaded little corner of his office.

He turned one last time, eyes watched as she smiled with a warmth he'd never seen, how she leaned into Dan as his smile shined bright.

Brahms walks up to his maid's room, thanking Gerti for installing a sense of comfort in Y/N as to never locking the door.

He jiggles the door handle, "Hm..." Again, "Weird," his eyes narrow, "Bloody thing is locked." He jostles the handle, "Bloody woman..."

Click

"Ah, there we are." He hums in approval as the door creaks open. Forever grateful for the previous owner teaching him how to easily unlock a door in the house without a key "Rickety ol' tings" Brahms mocked the man's heavy accent.

He inhales as he enters her room. The simple little abode warmed his heart. Her bed and the nightgown left upon it stirred his loins. He walks to the bed, grabs the nightgown, bringing it to his nose, he growls as he inhales, her natural scent lingered on the garment.

Brahms holds the garment in his teeth as he shucks off his pants, freeing his painfully erect cock. The thoughts whirl in his mind as he plops onto her bed, sighing with content as he sinks down into the mattress and a sneer as he grips his cock.

The same bed she slept, where when the night calls for it, he knew she'd sleep naked. "Fuck..." He growls through the nightgown, ripping it from his mouth to place it over his chest. Her bed, her bed where she no doubt has touched herself, even if briefly in a beautiful sinful manner.

Does she shy away as she dipped those delicate little fingers into her dripping pussy? Does she bite her cheek to stifle her pitchy moans when that jolt of pleasure shot through her?

Brahms collects some spit in his large hand, sucking in a breath as his cold spit touches his cock. His hand pumps eagerly around his thick member, a low groan as the image of her crawling up to him floods his mind. He sighs as he pictures it as her hand gripping him, gasping at how large it is,

"Brahms, my fingers can't even wrap around it!"

"That's okay, love, use those pretty little lips and that wet little tongue to help you."

"What if my make-up smears?"

"Oh, love, that's what I want." Brahms throws his head back, thumb circling his swollen head, picturing it as her delicate wet little tongue. He grips himself harder as he swears he can feel her lips wrap around his cock.

His low groans and breathy moans fill her little room, her name falling from his lips, "So beautiful, Y/N. My love, so perfect, mhm, yes, further down your throat, moaning around it."

Brahms breathing hitches as he pictures her, clawing at his chest as tears prick the corner of her eyes, "I'm a little nervous," She says as she rubs her glistening pussy, inches over his leaking cock.

"You got this, my love." Brahms keens,

"Will it fit, Brahms?..." She bites her lip, a hand groping her beautiful chest.

"My love, just relax, I have you." He pictures gripping her hip to ease her down onto him, gripping his cock as he imagines her warm pussy gripping him.

Audible slaps from the fisting of his cock, mixing with his now desperate pleas and moans fill her room. She's on top of him, her chest flushed against his, she's commenting on how she loves the feel of his hairy chest, praised-filled moans as she comments on his pecs flexing under her.

Brahms bucks his hips into his hand, "Hold you close." He moans as he pictures rolling on top of her, her legs wrapping around his lower half, arms pulling him in close, whispering in his ear,

"Brahms cum in me, cum in me, make me yours." He grips squeeze around his cock, imaging it's her pussy clenching around him, "I love you, Brahms."

He hisses as his body shakes, muscles flexing, toes curling as he snarls out his release. The image of her accepting his seed sends heat washing over him. His cock pulses in his grip, his cum spraying over her nightgown, the remaining spilling down his fingers and cock.

His temples pulse, his ears ringing. His toes unfurling as his legs ceased in their shakes. He squeezes his cock a few more times, hearing her breathlessly thanking him, "It's so warm in me. Thank you, Brahms." He swears he can feel her nuzzling into his chest as if she was there.

Brahms coughs as he sits up, shaking his head as he gingerly throws his legs over the side, placing his feet on the door. The nightgown falls over his cock. He snorts, using it to clean himself. He stands up, placing the nightgown where he had found it. A wicked and mischievous grin spreads over his face at the thought of her wearing his spent at night.

He grunts as he retrieves his trousers, pulling them up in haste, tucking his chub back in. A content sigh as he eyes the bed and nightgown. She wouldn't be sleeping alone for much longer.

Brahms snaps his attention to the trill of his front doorbell. He clicks his tongue as he makes haste to the door. He debates on if he has time to properly clean his hand, decides to just wear a fancy white-glove he leaves, conveniently, near the front door instead.

"Coming! My Maid is out currently," He sucks in a breath as he pulls a glove over his right hand, he cocks his head quickly before opening the door. "Sorry, it'd have been answered sooner...who are you?"

Brahms stared down at the short man before him. His brown hair combed expertly to the side, his brows immaculate under his thick glasses. He wore a glowering expression, his lips in a tight line.

The man clears his throat, "Herbert, Herbert West." Brahms makes note of his American accent, "I believe this paper is for the lady of this residence." Herbert whips the paper in front of him, his expression changing to say "Well, hurry and take it!"

"Mr. West."

"Herbert."

"Herbert, If by Lady you mean, Gerti? She passed awa-"

"I don't mean your dead wife."

Brahms's eyes narrow at Herbert. He opens his mouth the speak.

"I mean, Y/n. She is the only lady living here. So Dan tells me."

Brahms's jaw slackens, "Dan." He says more to himself.

"Yes, it's an invitation to a formal at the university. He already invited her. Just wanted to make sure she got all the details, it's all there on the paper." Herbert whips it again in front of Brahms.

Brahms yanks the paper from Herbert, eyes scanning it wildly.

University of London

Residents of Handel Mansions we formally invite you to bring along the most beautiful dame for the start of our fall formal.

September 28th, 1900

Entrance fee 1 pound, with a beautiful dame on your arm the fee is waved.

Brahms stares back at Herbert who pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose, "Well," Herbert begins, "I figured be best to drop it off for Dan. He's been awfully busy." He flashes a smile to Brahms as he turns, "Dan also says to let Y/n know he wishes her luck at her new job on Robitaille's farm." He turns back around to Brahms, "Oh, it was nice meeting you, Mr.?"

Brahms pauses, clearing his throat, "Brahms Heelshire."

Herbert clicks his tongue, "I knew that." He walks down the stairs, a pep in his step, "Was nice meeting you Mr. Heelshire."

Brahms stares at the short man walking away, nodding to a man walking past. He turns back around, slamming the door behind in, the frame shook.

He stares down at the paper, eyes reading it over and over again. "A formal." He starts, "That Dan..." His breath catches in his chest, "A job?" he questions aloud.

He collapses against his door, slumping over as he crunches the paper in his hands. His thoughts raced to her, cursing himself for not intervening that day she ran into Dan. Wishing he just took the reprimand from his employer and raced in to shove Dan away from you. Creating some fantastical lie as to why he was suddenly there.

Brahms's thoughts slip to his son. Lawrence, his green eyes shine whenever he and Y/n play. He hugs her like he did his mother. How y/n always promises to play with him, tuck him at night. How were you going to tuck him in if you were to be away? How were you going to be there to kiss his little cheek as he falls asleep?

"How are you going to be there for me?"

#brahms heelshire #Brahms x reader #Brahms x you #Brahms imagine #Brahms heelshire x reader #Brahms heelshire x you #Female reader #Slasher x reader #Slasher x you #Slasher imagine #Herbert West #Dan Cain #Smut #Lemon #Victorian AU #Victorian era #late victorian era #edwardian era

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