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daenysx · 4 months

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hi angel! what about reader is best friends with aegon and she likes him but modern! aemond likes her. aemond always comforts her when aegon chooses to blow off their hangouts and then she slowly falls for aemond 😇

hi lovely, thank you for requesting! i liked this so much, i hope you enjoy too. requests are open

modern!aemond targaryen x fem!reader, hurt/comfort ♡

aemond can't stand the wrinkle forming between your eyebrows whenever aegon disappoints you.

"sorry, aemond." you say, blushing hard on your cheeks. "i thought he'd be home, he didn't answer my texts."

his hands shake, he curls his fingers to relieve a bit of tension. "it's okay." he manages to say. "but i don't know where he is."

you look at your hands, biting your bottom lip like you do every time you are upset. aemond hates how he's unable to comfort you, how useless. you try to smile after a second, looking at him with big eyes as if you're trying to stop yourself from crying.

there's always a distance between you and aemond. "sorry for bothering you again." you say, giving him one of your easy smiles. "i'll just leave."

you take a step back. aemond would be damned if he let you go. "wait." he calls. "do you wanna come in?"

you look unsure. you probably think aemond only plays nice with you just because he feels guilty for his brother. the truth is far from it. aemond once saw you cry because of aegon, how your shoulders were shaking and your lips bitten raw. the image of your sad face haunts him, knowing how he'll never be the one you care about makes him wanna beat aegon. how dare he? who does he think he is? how can he have you as his best friend and not even bother to answer your texts when aemond is desperate for one smile from your lips?

"i took enough of your time." you say.

"no, i-" and now he can't even form a proper sentence. "please."

your eyes find his face. "you don't have to do it, aemond."

he doesn't know what you're talking about. "what?"

"you don't have to try to fix his mistakes." you say, somehow you look bolder and more upset, it shatters his heart.

"i'm not- i-"

"i appreciate the effort, i really do." you say. "you probably think how much of a fool i'm being by waiting for his text when he's out there hanging out with people i don't even know."

you stop, take a deep breath. that's when a teardrop rolls on your cheek. "i know it's stupid." you say. "i know he'll never look at me the way i look at him but i can't control how i feel. i- i just-"

your entire body is shaking as you start crying loudly. fuck. aemond's never been good with crying people but he'd burn down the entire world if he could stop your tears. he feels a protective wave in his chest, it's urging him to take the step to get you. you try to dry your tears, totally unable to calm down. you can't even look at aemond, how pathetic are you being right now? crying in front of your so-called best friend's baby brother. aemond should have better things to do other than listening to a girl cry over aegon.

"i'm so sorry." you say when you can finally breathe. "i'm not being fair to you. i'll just leave, you can-"

aemond snaps out of the trance. he rushes to you, his long arms are wrapped around your shoulders easily. you melt, starved for a comforting touch. he holds the back of your neck, fingers lightly wandering in your hair as he puts your head on his shoulder. you bury your face to his neck, wrap your arms around his waist. he smells nice. so nice like the rain or soft morning breeze.

aemond doesn't know how he'd wait so long to hug you. he closes his eye to the smell of your shampoo. his mind is clear like it never has been before. is this what holding you feels like? his skin is desperate for any contact, he's been starved for so long. he can get addicted to holding you easily, the possibility of never doing it again terrifies him. he loses his voice, he loses his patience.

you cry on his shoulder. he rubs a slow hand on your back, his lips tight on your head. he can feel the wetness of your tears on his skin, his fingers itch to dry them up.

you pull back, mortified. you look like you're gonna say sorry again but he can't have that. not again. you're not the person who should say sorry for having feelings or being brave enough to accept them.

"you're not being fair to me." he says. "you don't even know what you do to me."

he begs himself to shut up. he'll lose you. he'll lose the smallest contact with you if he keeps talking.

"i-" you start, still in his arms.

"no." he cuts your words. "it's not fair at all."

maybe people are right about the targaryen madness. nothing he does right now makes sense to him but he can't help himself. he just can't go on like this, not anymore. not when he got you in his arms.

"he- he doesn't deserve you." aemond says with a low voice. "but you know that, don't you? you've always been too clever for your own good."

"what can i do about that, aemond?" you whisper. "i'm trying to get over it. he's my best friend, do you see how fucked up this is?"

aemond shakes his head, his hand on your waist tightens. "trust me, i know about fucked up feelings. i know- i can understand how terrible you feel."

"and i didn't mean to be unfair to you." you continue. your tears dry on your cheeks. "i know you don't have to deal with this but you're nice enough to care about me. i won't disturb you again, i promise."

he takes a deep breath to stop himself from screaming. you're killing him. you don't even know.

"do you think the goodness in my heart is the reason for caring about you?" he asks, can't help gritting his teeth.

you look confused. he wants to kiss you so bad.

"you know what?" he backs off. "let's stop this- just forget i said anything."

he stops holding you, angry at himself for being a coward. he can feel the pins and needles on his hands, his shoulders are tense again.

"are you kidding me?" you ask, your voice is sad all over again. "why- why are you trying to mess with me? have i been that much of a bother to you?"

"stop!" he says loudly. you don't flinch, just stay on your spot with fresh tears on your eyes. aemond will not be the reason of your tears.

"stop saying that you're bothering me." he begs. "stop it- i can't take it anymore."

"then why?"

"because i'm in love with you." he says finally. "i've been in love with you for so long but you're not even aware of my existence when you're not asking for aegon! you think you're the only one with fucked up feelings?"

he kept everything to himself for so long, now that he starts he can't stop.

"you don't know what it's like to see you crying because of that prick. you don't know how i wished that it could be me- just for once let it be me who you care about. you don't know-"

he gets on his knees at the door to his apartment. his face pressed against his palms, staying vulnerable in front of you. he is so fucked. he half expects you to run away.

you are frozen on your feet. you always thought aemond was just being nice to you, all those times he offered you a cup of coffee and listened to you ramble about things. all the smiles he gave you, you were thinking he thought you are pathetic. you don't know what to think now.

it's like you're being controlled by someone else when you kneel beside him. your gentle hands pull his face to your shoulder just like he did minutes ago. you stroke his hair, nails scratching on his neck to give him a little peace. he holds onto you. you hold him back.

"i'm sorry." you say. "i'm so sorry, aemond."

"stop it." he says, finding his voice. "you are not guilty of my feelings."

"i wish i'd known before." you whisper. "i never meant to hurt you."

"don't- please don't run away from me." he pleads. "you don't have to see my face ever again but- i can't lose you."

you kiss his hairline just because it feels right. he feels right at that moment, your legs are numb on his doorstep and your fingers are quick to ease his worries.

"you're not losing me." you say. "i promise i won't leave."

aemond has never begged for anything in his life. wishing is different but begging would make him feel like a desperate man. he's too proud for it. he loses all his pride at your feet.

you cup his cheeks, looking at him through wet lashes. "it's not okay." you say. "it's not."

"i know you'll never feel the same for me." he says, words feel like poison on his lips. "and it's okay."

"there's nothing we can do." he replies. "you can't force yourself to love someone else."

you give him a broken smile. your finger draws a star on his cheek. "can we get inside?" you ask. "i think we need to talk about it properly and- we both need time."

"i don't want you to pity me." aemond says. "you don't have to do this."

"this is not pitying." you say. "i was going to the wrong direction before but- if you give me some time i can find my way."

even the hope of it makes him lightheaded. you are willing to talk about everything honestly with him, trying to give both of you a chance to be happy. you don't want to lose him, not when he feels so right in your arms. not when he holds you like he's protecting you from everything.

when you stand up to walk into the apartment, aemond holds your hand. you squeeze his fingers.

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond x you #house of the dragon #aemond x reader #modern!aemond #hotd #aemond one eye #modern!aemond targaryen #modern!aemond x reader #house targaryen #aegon targaryen #aegon ii targaryen #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen imagine #hotd aemond #aemond targaryen fanfiction #aemond imagine

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sad-scarred-sassy · 7 months

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Elain exasperated, telling Feyre just how mistaken whoever made Lucien her mate was.

“He is insufferable, I cannot have one moment of peace when he’s around” Shes pacing in her little garden, Feyre holding Nyx in her lap while seated in a bench, listening to her sister. “He always has a comeback to everything I say” She throws her hands, palms up in exasperation as she continues pacing, eyes on the ground. “He’s cocky, he thinks he’s so smart and smug, with his… stupid smile” Images of his white teeth, pointy canines and lopsided smirk flash through her mind. “He thinks he can get me, thinks he knows me, he doesn’t know the first thing about me” She says to Feyre and her sister just shakes her head in agreement. “He’s always studying me…” She sees his infuriatingly cunning eyes, one of rust one of metal staring at her with long lowered lashes. “Assessing me like I’m some… prey” That glance she caught him throwing at her more than once, as if he was taking her all in, eating her up from head to toe. “He’s shameless, the words he uses” She feels her cheeks heat up a bit when she remembers how he had talked to her now that his gentleman act was gone. Now that he had learned what things get inside her skin. “He’s nothing more than a rake” She tells her sister and she nods quickly in agreement as his words flood her mind like thunderstorm. ‘If you don’t believe my gentleman act, Elain, you’ll be glad to know I don’t believe your proper lady act either’ He had told her a few hours ago in one of their latest heated exchanges. “He thinks he can seduce me with his wicked ways, with his big mouth” And plump lips. “His ridiculous hair” Always looking perfect as if he had been born like that. She scoffs and Feyre shakes her head again, Nyx scoffing too. ‘Find me when you’re finally ready to admit you cannot endure a second longer without me touching you’ He had said making her face light up in crimson heat as he breathed on her ear. ‘Rake’ She had managed to say. He had just chuckled. ‘Oh, I can show you how much of a rake I can be, my lady.’

“Elain?” Feyre snaps Elain’s attention back to the present moment. Her cheeks are still heating. She shakes her head.

“They made a mistake” She says again. “Whoever decided this, decided that he–“ She points at the house even though Lucien is no longer there. “Was to be my mate. We can’t be more incompatible. He brings out the worst in me… all I wanna do is slap him–“ Flashes of his soft smile invade her. “Yell at him” His broad hands trapping her hands and holding her up when she slipped on the frozen ground past winter make her stomach tighten. “He’s unpredictable” His broad back to her, dressed in fighting gear and his hair bound by a scrap of leather enthrall her all of a sudden. “I want him as far away from me-“ Him and his intoxicating, overwhelming smell of citrus, wood and a hint of cinnamon. “As physically possible” An image of his hard bare body, pressed onto hers, hips moving in a sinful rythm, take over her mind, images of a dream that haunt her more nights than she likes to admit. Slow touching of hands, sounds so unholy she could not understand how her mind could come up with something like that. Her nails on his broad back, the muscles on his frame rippling under them, the feeling of belonging, of contentment, of utter satisfaction possessing her whole…

She suddenly remembers Feyre and Nyx are both still there, when she brings her eyes towards her sister’s cooled, knowing stare and she realizes for once, just how screwed she actually is.

#i cant seem to stop thinking about them #elucien #elucien headcanon #elain x lucien #elain archeron #she is in DENIAL im telling you #elain and lucien banter will eat #feyre archeron #this took a spicy turn #couldn’t help it

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nalyra-dreaming · 3 months

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Are we ever told in the books if Armand actually regrets what he did to Claudia? Does he have genuine remorse?

.... I think it is implied.

It... does read as if he does? At least a bit. But... it's "only" implied:

Let me say here, she was herself again, hideously wounded, a botched reassemblage of the angelic child she'd been before my attempts, when she was locked out in the brutal morning to meet her death with a clear mind. The fire of Heaven destroyed the awful unhealed evidence of my Satanic surgery as it turned her to a monument in ash. No evidence remained of her last hours within the torture chamber of my makeshift laboratory. No one need ever have known what I say now. For many a year, she haunted me. I could not strike from my mind the faltering image of her girlish head and tumbling curls fixed awkwardly with gross black stitching to the flailing, faltering and falling body of a female vampire whose discarded head I'd thrown into the fire. Ah, what a grand disaster was that, the child-headed monster woman unable to speak, dancing in a frenetic circle, the blood gurgling from her shuddering mouth, her eyes rolling, arms flapping like the broken bones of invisible wings. It was a truth I vowed to conceal forever from Louis de Pointe du Lac and all whoever questioned me. Better let them think that I had condemned her without trying to effect her escape, both from the vampires of the theatre and from the wretched dilemma of her small, enticing, flat-chested and silken-skinned angelic form. She was not fit for deliverance after the failure of my butchery; she was as a prisoner subjected to the cruelty of the rack who can only smile bitterly and dreamily as she is led, torn and miserable, to the final horror of the stake. She was as a hopeless patient, in the reeking antiseptic death cubicle of a modern hospital, freed at last from the hands of youthful and overzealous doctors, to give up the ghost on a white pillow alone. Enough. I won't relive it. I will not. I never loved her. I didn't know how. I carried out my schemes in chilling detachment and with fiendish pragmatism. Being condemned and therefore being nothing and no one, she was a perfect specimen for my whim. That was the horror of it, the secret horror which eclipsed any faith I might have pleaded later in the high-blown courage of my experiments. And so the secret remained with me, with Armand, who had witnessed centuries of unspeakable and refined cruelties, a story unfit for the tender ears of a desperate Louis, who could never have borne such descriptions of her degradation or suffering, and who did not truly, in his soul, survive her death, cruel as it was.

... I think, in his own way, he does. He says she haunted him, as that "failed experiment".

But he says it there, in the end, he has "witnessed centuries of unspeakable and refined cruelties"... and I think it desensitized him.

And so I think he knows he regrets it, and probably feels it, deep within, but cannot quite articulate it, if that makes sense.

#Anonymous #ask nalyra #the vampire chronicles #vc #vampire chronicles #iwtv armand #armand

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englishstrawbie · 3 months

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For the fluff prompt list, Marina: :)

“I could never not love you.”

“I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Thank you for the prompt and for being patient while I write it! I hope you enjoy this. 😊

>>>>>>>>>>

Carina is quiet when they get home. Maya watches her from afar as she puts Liam in his cot for a nap before heading into the kitchen to make tea. Her lips are pursed, her expression downcast as she keeps her eyes trained on the steam that rises from the boiling water she has just poured into her mug.

Maya leans against the wall, her hands tucked into the pockets of her pants.

“Are you okay?”

“Hmm?” Carina turns her head over her shoulder, but doesn’t life her gaze to look at her.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Her question causes Carina’s back to tense as a gentle sigh escapes from her mouth.

“No,” she says quietly.

Maya can’t really blame her. They have just spent two hours at the lawyer’s office talking and planning.

The final steps of Liam’s adoption had brought tears of happiness as they had signed the papers to officially be his moms. Liam had been unperturbed as they had cuddled him tightly, more interested in the plush teddy that Vic had sent from Washington a few weeks ago which he has refused to put down since it had arrived.

They had started the process of Maya’s adoption of the baby girl that will arrive in a few months. Carina had been the one to raise it, wanting to make sure that Maya’s status as mama would be equally recognised in law. Naively, it was only then that Maya had realised how few rights she would have over her own child if it wasn’t for a piece of paper.

Sometimes she hears Mason’s voice in her head, no matter how hard she tries to block it out. She knows he is wrong, but sometimes she can’t help but let a bit of doubt creep in – the voices of her past haunting her. Carina always notices it, as if reading her mind, and, the next thing Maya knows, little reassurances will start to appear. Last week, Maya had arrived home from work to a card from Liam, decorated with his handprints, declaring her kisses to be his favourites. It is still sat proudly on the shelf above the fireplace.

Maya knows it is not these things that have brought about Carina’s silence.

It was the talk of death and living wills and advance directives. It was thoughts of more loss, when there has been too much of that already. It was Maya’s adamance that she did not want to be hooked up to a machine and the thought that one day Carina might have to let her go. It was the image of a future without Maya by her side. It was the terrifying fear of leaving behind their two babies if their nightmares became real.

Maya pushes herself away from the wall and walks over to where Carina is stood, sliding her hands around her waist and placing them on the small bump she carries, her chin resting on Carina’s shoulder.

“I love you,” Maya says, grateful when she feels Carina’s demeanour soften a little.

“I’m okay,” Carina says, putting her hand on top of Maya’s and squeezing it gently. “I just…” She shakes her head a little. “I can’t think of a life that doesn’t have you in it.”

Maya knows it is hard for Carina to imagine the worst, having lived through so much heartbreak already. For Maya, it has been drilled into her ever since she joined the fire service how important it is to have your affairs in order; and she has always been able to compartmentalise it – until now.

Now, she has a wife and a son, and a daughter on the way. She knows what it is like to love and be loved.

Now, she knows true happiness.

Now, she has something to lose.

“Me neither.” She brings her hands to Carina’s hips and encourages her to turn around. “So… I’ve been thinking.”

Carina’s eyebrows arch with curiosity.

“I want to talk to Chief Ross about my options within SFD and whether she’ll support my promotion to captain.”

Maya catches the way Carina’s left eyebrow crinkles.

“Not immediately,” she clarifies. “I want to stay at 19 for a while, to support Andy, especially with so many changes to the team lately. But I’m ready and it’s what I want, one day. And being captain takes me out of the fires – most of the time, at least. And that’s good for us, for our family.”

Carina inhales a shaky breath. “And what if Chief Ross says no?”

“Then I look at my options outside of SFD,” Maya says resolutely.

“No, bella, I would never ask you to do that,” Carina starts to say, but Maya cuts her off.

“This is my decision. For you, for Liam, for our little bambina.” A smile crosses her lips as she runs her hand over the bump between them. “I will do whatever it takes to make you feel better.”

Carina responds with a bone-crushing hug, pulling Maya into her arms and holding on to her tightly.

“I love you, Maya.”

Maya smiles into her thick dark hair. “I’m glad to hear it. And I’ve gotta make sure you keep on loving me.”

Carina straightens, her hands lifting to cup Maya’s face. “Amore mio, I could never not love you. No matter what our future looks like, my heart will always be yours.”

Tears prick Maya’s eyes as she smiles. “And mine will always be yours.”

She draws Carina in for a kiss then, hard and slow, feeling every bit of tension falling from her body. Carina relaxes in her arms, the tea forgotten, left to go cold on the side.

“Come, my love,” Carina says in between kisses. “Let’s go to bed before our little principe wakes up.”

#station 19 #maya bishop #carina deluca #station 19 fanfiction #my fanfiction #fluff prompt list #jbthegift

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oneluckydragon · 2 months

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got hit with the echo+sora brainrot so i am once more rambling in your askbox about it. because reasons.

anywho i think there is something truly saddening about echo's struggles to make peace within herself and how she truly finds it hard to find that peace when she is so certain that if the truth about her origins were to be revealed to the world, much less to *sora*, everything she achieved, everything she worked for, all of which matters to her most, will crumble away in a moment's notice.

but the fear of losing all your life's work is none compared to the fear of losing sora. the feeling of poison that settled itself within themselves and between each other out of fear and tragedy of what had happened to them is familiar. echo's resemblance to dusknoir was already enough to set the two off because of how much it had all hurt to see someone you love and yourself turn into a mockery and a splitting image of someone who had pretended to care yet showed he never did at all, but this poison is louder. it hurts to bare, to carry, and to have none but yourself to be its sole holder.

but this poison, this feeling of heartache is different. because whereas the previous pain was something both of them felt, sora was lucky enough to not have known the truth about the person who she cares for so dearly.

echo knows that she used to be darkrai. and it haunts her to have known that her previous incarnation was so *cruel*, all for the sake of it just feeling right. wishing to engulf an entire world in darkness, solely for whatever desire she used to have.

and for how much she knows, how much she will hammer it into her own head that she is *not* like that anymore, that she looks at her past with sneer and disgust and that she will not be the barer of evil anymore, it will not matter in the slightest when she will have to look at sora if she were to ever find out.

how afraid, angry and dejected she would look when finding out, and how she will go on the defense/offense because of how much this will overwhelm her.

because when echo looks at her own shadow, she sees herself for what she is. she knows what she is, be it out of shame or guilt.

but when sora will look at it, she will see a tall, contorting and menacing shadow, towering over with a bright cyan eye doing nothing but looking at her, as if tempting her to make the next move.

and she defends herself. from someone she knows will not harm her. she raises her arms up in self defense from a hand that would never hurt her more than the world has already did.

she knows echo will not hurt her. and thats why she is afraid.

Oh my oh my OH MY, Sinnoh!!! YES YES YES!

HOW!!! IN THE WORLD!!! Are you so good at crawling into my head and creating these vivid analysis/snippets on my OCs??? I've barely shared ANY information about Echo and Sora because I've been wanting to hoard most of my stuff for when my fic is finally finished... but... I think you've broken my resolve a bit, if I'm entirely honest.

You know what? I'm so inspired by your accuracy and eagerness to talk about my girls that I'm gonna forgo my crippling anxiety regarding my writing skills and instead post a snippet of my WIP fic here as a treat for you. A teaser, if you will. Since I have no idea when the fic in question will actually be done and ready (or when I will be satisfied with it, cause the thing is currently 36,000 words and still slowly climbing). And now you've got me eager to share SOMETHING of my fic with you and anyone that might want to take a peek at it.

Please enjoy this conversation between Dusknoir and Echo. The topic deals a lot with what you'd described up above!! c:

[Note: this is an unedited part of my fic because I am still in the process of writing and it may change in the future, so please be gentle w/ me but I'd love to read any thoughts/comments that pop up while reading!! pls send asks or replies or anything really cause I love you guys]

+++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++ +++

“I’m going to tell you something now, and you are going to listen.” Echo commands with a sharp bite in her voice that Dusknoir cannot fathom ignoring. He pauses and then offers a slow nod, waiting, wondering what she could possibly desire to tell him at a time like this, of all things.

Minutes pass as Echo remains rooted in place, still as her own shadow, and her eyes dart around as she stares at the patches of dry grass and sand beneath her paws. Her claws clench and unclench, digging into the earth like daggers as the wind of the forest (it’s trees so close, just behind them, a looming sort of presence that could engulf them whole) whistles through the surrounding branches, carrying stray leaves of many bright greens through the chilling breeze. Dusknoir watches them dance around Echo, twirling, floating down, down, down… but it’s quiet, too quiet, and Dusknoir feels a shiver pass through him when Echo’s voice finally rings out through the silence.

"When I evolved, Sora was petrified," She says, nearly a whisper, an admission that melts away her confidence and appears to bring her a flood of both shame and regret. Her face twists up then, strangely, like she’d felt a twinge of pain from somewhere deep inside the very fabric of her own soul and was unable to quell it. "She couldn’t even bring herself to look at me most days. At first, my appearance… well, it reminded her too much of you. And eventually of someone I used to be.”

Someone I used to be. At that, Dusknoir’s immediate reaction is to recall Echo’s previous life as a human, as the miserable shell of a creature surviving alongside Grovyle that he’d relentlessly hunted in the dark future. A human made of contempt and anger and apathy, who never smiled or laughed or cried or screamed like the old legends said humans would-- an entity that simply existed rather than lived. An echo of a life long dead and buried. But, judging by her tone, by her voice, by some uneasy intuition itching in the back of his mind like a swarm of pestilent Ninjask… he knows that she means something else entirely. Something that she isn’t willing to share. And frankly, that concept utterly terrifies him.

Someone I used to be. Dusknoir wants to speak, to break his own silence, wants to ask the myriad of questions bubbling up in his throat because this isn't the first time she's hinted at another life beyond being human, but those questions die at the source like a flame doused in water. And always the coward, coward, coward, instead he takes the easy way out by doing nothing at all. Whether Echo notices his surge of inner conflict or not-- the nervous wring of his hands and the tremble in his spine that he cannot control under her gaze-- she does not react.

“I’d take a step and Sora would flinch away.” Echo confesses, her markings flickering with light before going dark and dead, as if her body wished to snuff them out entirely, a deep seated rejection, a self-loathing so strong that Dusknoir cannot help but recognize it and empathize, and his heart aches, “It took ages for her to stop shaking when I’d speak. To stop looking at me like-- like I was going to…”

Echo grimaces like she’s enduring waves of grueling torture and doesn’t finish that string of thought, but it’s not hard to make an educated guess on what went unsaid. Like I was going to betray her. Hurt her. Break her heart. She’s been through so much already and I couldn’t bear to be another influence in the history of her suffering. I hate myself because of how I made her feel. When her eyes went wide in fear and through them I could see myself staring back like some sort of burden, some sort of curse.

“I am not my past.” Proud and true, Echo straightens up and holds her head high, a spark igniting in her eyes, a glint of determination, a will to keep going and going despite such circumstances and strife, despite this horrid, unspeakable past that haunts her so, “And I am definitely not you. It’s taken a while, but I know that much now. I’ve accepted it.”

I am not my past. And I am definitely not you.

A sigh, a breath, and Echo glances at him with a certain sorrow that cannot be described, a sorrow that lingers even through the veil of her tenacity, "But no matter how I feel, no matter my conviction, my shadows still find ways through the cracks. Every time I think I'm getting a grip and that I might finally understand myself… I change all over again." She admits, sounding more angry and tired than defeated now-- like a mirror of her old self, her human self that had clawed and damned and cursed him, despised him more than anything. "I hate it. I hate that I never truly know who I am. That I have to learn about my past through stories others tell me, or through fragments of twisted, broken memories that I wouldn't wish on anyone. Through conflict and pain and… and..."

"Echo," Dusknoir murmurs her name softly, an offering, a potential escape if only she would wish to drop the subject and forget this conversation had ever happened-- if she'd overstepped and needed an excuse to back out, a diversion, an understanding. And briefly, Dusknoir wonders why she is opening up about this particular information, why she would delve into something so vulnerable, so personal. Why she would bring up this hurtful history when it obviously brings her great discomfort.

And then, he gets an answer.

“You’re lucky, Dusknoir." There it is, that wildfire burning in her eyes again. A spark that’s new and bold and startling. But lucky? No, never. He'd have to disagree, accounting the mountain of evidence that was his life and regrettable deeds.

"You already know exactly who you are and what you’ve done, and most importantly why. You have more than a tattered picture of yourself that reflects broken answers. And you can change with that knowledge. I see you trying.” She tells him, searching, looking for something so deeply and Dusknoir wishes he knew what it could be so that he could give it to her, because he would, he would gladly give it to her without a second thought if it meant they could be close again. But he isn’t a fool, and he’s wise enough to know they’ll never be like they were before. “And if somehow I could change, even as half-assed as I have. Well, then what’s your excuse?”

You can do it, say her unspoken words, I believe in you.

#Sinnoh I have so many Echo and Sora feels right now and IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT HOW DO I COPE #like... i am so amazed with what you wrote in this ask i honestly don't even know HOW to reply because I'm stunned it's so perfect #my fic is from Dusknoir's POV and explores his relationship with Grovyle and Celebi and also his reconciliation with Echo and Sora #just stating that for anyone who hasn't seen my previous post about my WIP fic cause that was like... more than 6 months ago #I am... really REALLY nervous posting this because Dusknoir is very beloved by the community and I wanna do him justice #and there are SO many amazing writers amongst my mutuals and I wanna be a COOL KID like you guys #I realize this snippet is mostly just about Echo and that Dusknoir has no actual dialogue... (even tho he talks A LOT in the fic)#but the portions of Dusknoir's thoughts and descriptions I want to GET RIGHT the vibes need to be ACCURATE #(pls tell me the vibes are accurate)#note: he is majorly nervous rn tho cause he and Echo have not fully reconciled and he's TRYING to listen and be there for her now #(insert his attempt at dadnoir; he's giving it a shot guys)#Meanwhile Echo is dealing with BIG TIME problems and regrets and guilt cause Dusknoir returning to the past resurfaced all of that grief #Me; the writer; knowing that the truth about Echo's past would mess up Dusknoir for YEARS: oh my idiot ghost dad... you have NO idea bro #echo/umbreon #sora/lucario #pmd ocs #dusknoir #pmd eos #pmd2 #wip fic #Yes I have a fic title but I'm not sharing it cause it's spoilers ok

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gicosmo · 1 year

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Nunca es suficiente {Luis x Fem! Reader}

Hey y'all! It's my first time posting on Tumblr so I hope this post goes well🙏I recently got back into Resident Evil again! I'm so happy with the RE4 remake and I'm happy that they did Luis justice! This is for all of my Luis Serra lovers!!!🫶

warnings: this is after the events of re4 (Luis lives! woohoo!), confessions, oblivious reader, just a bunch of fluff and a little bit of angst

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"C'mon, mi amor! You'll love the surprise. Don't be moody!" Luis smiled as he squeezed your face softly. It's been a few months after you guys left that hellhole, you would be lying if you said it was easy to forget about it. Everything that happened there is engraved in your mind, from everything that everyone said to every single detail of what everyone did. Talk about trauma, huh?

"Sorry, Luis... I'm just... Thinking." You sighed, your mind drifting off...

The only good thing to come out of that was Luis. Meeting him ignited something in you. He gave you hope, a reason. You couldn't pin point what exactly you were feeling, but you sure as hell knew it was strong. You cared deeply for the flirtatious man. That deep feeling of care grew deeper when you found him bleeding to his death with Leon.

The image of him with a cigarette in his mouth cracking jokes pops up occasionally. It haunts you. You look up at Luis who has nothing but love in his eyes for you. Too bad you were oblivious to how much he really loved you.

Luis crossed his arms, a little smirk on his face, "What's going on in the beautiful mind of yours, hmm? Are you thinking about yours truly?" A little laugh escaped your lips as you turned to face him. He always managed to make you smile.

You suddenly felt that feeling again. What the actual hell is that? It's not annoying per say... but it was annoying that you just simply didn't know why you were feeling it.

Luis grabbed your hand, flashing a charming smile, "Enough stalling! I spent a bunch of money on you today. How do you feel about becoming a princesa today?"

Cocking a brow you looked at him with a questioning look, "What do you have planned...? You didn't buy a castle, did you?" Luis let out a loud laugh, shaking his head in the process, "Ay, no! I wish I had that type of money. I would buy you the whole world..."

After a few more minutes of bickering, you finally decide to go with Luis to see what he had planned. Luis drove with a smile on his face, hands tapping on the wheel out of pure excitement. Watching him, a smile crept on your face.

"Estamos aqui! Don't worry, I'll get the door for you, Princesa." Luis opened his door and got out with one swift movement. Not a moment later, he opened the side of the door, a hand out helping you out of the car. Gosh, he was a true gentleman.

Luis winked at you before gesturing his hand towards the building in front of you two, "The surprise awaits inside. Let's go, Mi amor." You followed Luis into the building, "I don't understand... you bought a house?"

Walking inside the building, Luis laughs, "Very funny. No no, I rented out a hall for the day. and alsooo," he let's go of your hand and reaches for a bag on top of a table. He opens it, revealing a beautiful puffy dress, "I bought you a dress! Made for you, Princesa." It really did look like it was made for a princess...

You grabbed the dress, pure shock on your face. Luis did this... for you?

"Luis... I don't know what to say. What would possess you to even do this?" Luis gently lifted your face by your chin, smiling ever so gently at you,

"Remember back in Spain when I called you and Leon? I was in a ballroom. I asked you to come over so we could dance... and also for you both to save me."

You laughed at his last choice of words. You remember that moment ever so clearly. You couldn't believe Luis remembered that dance request.

Luis placed a gentle kiss on your hand before speaking, "Now... how about you change into that dress, Princesa. Let us dance like we've never danced before." With a smile plastered over your face, you went into a bathroom for privacy while Luis did the same. Both of you changing into something beautifully formal.

Luis waited for you patiently, slow dancing music already playing. Hearing clicking of heels, Luis turns his head towards it's direction. There you were. The princess. His princess.

"Dios mio... Look at you." His eyes never left you. You were so beautiful to him. "A true princesa." Wasting no time, he quickly walked up to you, grabbing one of your hands and sliding his free hand on your waist. He pulled you closer, already starting off the slow dance with you.

The two of you maintained eye contact with one another, nothing but love and admiration for one another. Luis' face inched closer and closer to yours. You closed your eyes, feeling his soft lips connect with yours.

The kiss was filled with so much passion and love. Luis embraced you, deepening the kiss. Longing for more.

You broke the kiss, looking up at him, finally knowing that feeling that was annoying you from time to time,

"This is what you meant by how I felt about becoming a princess, hm?" Luis chuckled, pecking your lips a few times before answering,

"I had to make sure that you wanted to be mi princesa before I made you mi reina"

#luis serra x reader #resident evil #resident evil 4 #re4 remake #luis serra

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snowbellewells · 5 months

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CSSNS23 Fic Update: "Carolina Moon" Chapter Five

Sheesh, so much for getting back to weekly updates! I don't know what else to do but apologize folks, and to say thank you for hanging in there with me if you're still patiently reading this story despite my lack of speed. Please enjoy the newest chapter - the threat is ramping up, but so is Killian's determination to help keep Emma safe!

Thank you so, so, SO much for @xarandomdreamx and her wonderful beta skills - she had a job fixing all the times I switched tenses this go 'round!

And continued thanks to @eastwesthomeisbest for this cover art that I'm thrilled by all over again each time I post a new chapter!!

Read from the beginning HERE on Tumblr or HERE on AO3

Summary: Emma Swan has returned to the town she grew up in, and the past that has haunted her no matter where she has run. She seeks answers and peace at last. Despite the years that have passed, some things haven't changed very much in Storybrooke, South Carolina, and one of those things is Killian Jones. He never forgot the gangly girl with the world on her shoulders and pain in her eyes, but will he finally be able to slip past her defenses and help her find the answers she seeks?

Chapter Five: Unwanted Reunion and New Resolve

Killian Jones’ mind was everywhere but on the shipping manifests and cost reports he was attempting to look over in his small office down at the docks. Paperwork of that nature was his least favorite part of being the boss, and a tedious chore at the best of times, but with all he had witnessed the night before - Emma trembling in his arms, shaking from the sapping strength of her visions - he could find little space in his brain for inventory and figures. The sunlight glinting off the water out the window to his left and the gentle sound of the waves striking the moorings of the pier always tried to entice him from his desk on mornings he had to take alone to put the business in order, but with his concentration already severely fractured, he was making little to no headway. He’d dropped Emma off by her car at the gallery that morning, reluctantly aware that he had to give her a bit of space, and figuring that in the middle of town in broad daylight was the best time to do so and still retain his own peace of mind. He’d spent the night on her couch - against her protests that she sleep there instead - but all had been quiet, no signs of trouble. She’d planned to go to the diner to grab breakfast, then work for a few hours, and he’d pick her up that evening when they’d both finished for the day.

With a growl of frustration, Killian pushed his chair back and reclined in it, raking a hand through his dark hair, surely making it stand on end, and squeezing his eyes closed to block all the images rushing through, images that were already inside his head. He wanted to yell, to hit something - mostly his own younger self. How had they all been so blind and callous? Was this what Emma had always been dealing with? Even as a child? Rose would have known, would have been a support, a respite for Emma in the storm the rest of her life must have been. His baby sister, whom he’d doted on, but clearly not paid careful enough attention to, would have done nothing less. But when she was snatched away, and Emma blamed for the loss, despite what she had risked in order to help, it was just too late, the storm had surged back to surround her, raging and buffeting her more cruelly than ever. Though he had wondered briefly about the marks he could see that morning, and what had kept Emma from meeting Rose the night before, he had been too young and blind, too lost in his own grief and family concerns to reach out to her as he saw now he should have done. She had lost the only anchor in the maelstrom she had ever possessed, and he hadn’t bothered to toss her a lifeline. Leaning forward again, elbows planted on his cluttered desk, Killian rubbed his stubbled chin thoughtfully for a moment, trying to refocus on what he could do now to help her and show he wanted to ease her burden - would always, always, be at her side from now on, if she would allow it. Emma had said, when her defenses were still down and he had held her close, trying to imbue any bit of strength he could, that Rose wasn’t the only one - that there had been other victims.

Galvanized with sudden inspiration, he pushed his bookkeeping aside in a messy heap to one corner of his desk and quickly opened a new window on his laptop. If he wasn’t going to be able to focus on his own work, he might as well accomplish something worthwhile, something he could take to Emma as proof of how fully he took her at her word - a starting point for their inquiry. His eyes began to scan lines of text in rapid fascination - both amazed and appalled at the sheer amount of information at one’s fingertips once he chose to look, and at the horrifying reality of there being so much to be found.

He was soon fully engaged in the task, his other concerns slipping away with the minutes that ticked by until he could call it a day, and it suddenly felt as if he had managed some worthwhile work after all. Perhaps not for Jones Shipping Ltd., but important all the same. He tried not to picture the scoff and disappointed shake of the head his father would have given at that; Brennan Jones did nothing if not for the furtherance of their name and holdings, and his imagination’s echoes of the sharp retort that would be on his mother’s lips did no good either.

All the same, he was anxious to show Emma what he had turned up, and in only a couple hours’ searching. It wouldn’t be what one might call pleasant dinner conversation - certainly not what he’d usually entertain as fit for a second date - was he crazy to consider it as such? He felt Emma would want to know all the same. It was proof that what she had seen the night before, horrifying as it must have been, was hardly mistaken or imagined. And it was a first stop toward finally uncovering the truth after all this time. Emma deserved to be set free at long last - they all did.

When it finally neared five o’clock, Killian had never locked up his office and left work so quickly. He headed straight for the town square and those mesmerizing green eyes he was eager to feel upon him again. He had been missing them for longer than he’d ever fully realized.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

The morning after intense visions Emma always felt a bit hazy, slightly dazed and headache-y, almost as though suffering from a mental hangover of sorts, from exerting such focus and emotion. That morning was no different, but she shuffled gingerly through her usual routine as always, wincing but not about to waste time recouping her strength if she still hoped to open for business as planned.

By the time she had returned to the gallery, a shocking amount of coffee in her system and a satisfyingly crisp and greasy bacon sandwich from the local diner in her stomach, she already felt more herself. She had called the young lady, Violet Clemens back and hired her after all. She was going to need help, and the sale she had already made - to Ruby Jones, of all people! - had boosted her confidence. She might as well sink everything into this; if she went down, she would go down swinging with all she had.

Violet had joined her in the shop just after 12:30, and they had spent a cheerful couple of hours putting the last items and displays in place. The other woman had proven a real asset already: agreeable, quick, and a good eye to boot. She was pleasant company and a worthy distraction. Emma was already exceedingly glad of her presence.

It was just half past three when Emma paused to stretch, catch her breath, and survey their progress with a proud smile. There really wasn’t too much left after Killian’s help the previous day, and all that she and her new employee had just accomplished. Smiling broadly, she thanked Violet once more, and got them both a cold water bottle from the small fridge she’d had Killian’s help in nestling on the shelf under the counter. They were due a cool drink and a moment’s sit down, she felt sure.

While they were still sipping their drinks perched on the tall stools she’d placed behind the counter, the bell above the shop door jangled merrily to announce the arrival of Mayor Walsh Ozman with his wide, charming-the-public smile. Emma stood and moved forward to greet her old acquaintance, asking what they could do for him, even though she was privately amused at how well the public servant schtick seemed to suit him. She would have never imagined that the unhappy, mean-spirited boy of their youth would be wearing that wide smile and winning local elections when they all grew up. Then again, she couldn’t have pictured much for her future either, not back then. Still, she mused curiously before returning her attention to Walsh’s reply, she would have to ask Killian if it was an election year and if Mayor Ozman was trying to win over these two newcomers to his town by turning on the charm.

As it turned out, the mayor was also hoping to make an early purchase - it seemed that he and his wife were quite close to their 15th anniversary, and having lived in Storybrooke all that time, he was anxious to shop for a gift somewhere completely unknown to her. He genuinely did want to offer any help he could as a town representative, but if he could find the right anniversary present at the same time, he would be incredibly grateful.

Violet happily began to show him around the shop, directing his attention to various framed photographs which might work especially well as romantic gifts - the close-up bud of a red rose, two swallows entwined in flight, a couple’s joined hands in silhouette against a sunset’s orange and gold. Not only that, but she kept up a lively patter of information that proved just what a sponge she had been for all of the information Emma had told her so far about her process, materials, and subject matter. Violet answered the mayor’s questions nearly as well as Emma herself could have done, and it pleased Emma more than she could say, thinking that not only had she helped someone in need of a job, but that she had managed to find someone with the pep and sweetness they needed out front, all the engaging personality she herself often fought to project, as well as a genuine interest in the art itself.

By the time Violet had shown Walsh all the way around the store cheerily, the mayor had a selected photo in hand once they returned to the counter and Emma was marvelling at how lucky she had been to find such a natural saleswoman along with all of Violet’s other positive traits. The red rose picture Walsh had selected seemed a touch obvious, but then, who was she to judge? She had chosen it to crop and display as she had because its blatant appeal almost guaranteed it would sell. They weren’t even officially open yet, and this was her second painting sold. If this could keep up, she might not have as hard a road making her gallery succeed as she had anticipated.

As she rang up the purchase and ran the mayor’s card, Violet carefully and efficiently wrapped the frame as she had been shown. Walsh grinned broadly the whole time as her new assistant prattled on. “You’ve really saved me a long, drawn out search with this, ladies. And Marjorie will love it too. Plus, it was a chance to keep business local. Your gallery is going to be a great addition for Storybrooke, just wait and see.”

“I certainly hope so,” Emma replied, a pleasantly warm glow of pride in her chest as she did so.

“You just give me a call if there’s anything I can do to help out,” he reminded again as he headed out the door with a wave. “It is part of my job, after all.”

When he was gone, Emma found that they really had accomplished nearly all that she had planned for the day. With heartfelt gratitude, she sent Violet off a bit early, promising that she was just going to lock up and make an early night of it herself as well. No need to tell the younger woman that she was going to be picked up at five like a kid after daycare for her own safety.

Violet hadn’t been gone but a few minutes before Emma had all in order and was gathering her things to leave, true to her word. She made sure the lights were out in the back office, that all was in its proper place, and was just bending to gather her things from under the counter, when she heard the door open once more, its bell chiming in announcement. Standing straight again, she had begun to speak before even seeing the person who had entered. “I’m sorry, but we’re not open for business yet. I was just leaving for the day, and - “ but the rest of her polite dismissal died on her tongue when she recognized the person who had arrived - a face she had hoped never to see again.

“Well, seeing as I’m already here, you’ll just have to make an exception, won’t you?” The question was taut and dangerous, hardly a question at all, though phrased as such. Every nerve in Emma’s body stood on end in response. Her limbs took on the same sort of wary motionlessness they had years ago, like a rabbit going statue-still in hopes of evading a predator’s notice, yet ready to dart away the moment an opening appeared.

Vic Franken hadn’t darkened her path again after she’d paid him off for her safety and peace of mind once he found her in Boston. Emma had hoped that fragile truce and space would hold, despite his breach of parole, but her former “guardian” never had been particularly wise, and he was eerily apt to return to what he knew, what was easiest, particularly when he was desperate. Emma wet her lips nervously and attempted to keep breathing calmly, steadily, focused on taking in any weakness she might be able to use to her own benefit. The past six or seven years had not been kind to him by the looks of it. Always tall and wiry, Franken appeared almost unhealthily gaunt, with dark shadows under eyes that were still as sharp and wild, darting quickly about the gallery space, to her, and back again. His clothes were worn and wrinkled, his hair stood on end in places, and he was moving closer, coming to stand just on the other side of the counter - much nearer than Emma could handle without her knees going a bit watery in spite of the fact that she wasn’t 13 anymore and she had every right to order him out of her place of business, whether he thought so or not.

“You s-shouldn’t be here,” she managed to say coolly, her voice only quavering slightly, for which she was grateful. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, intending to look serious, but also hoping to hold herself together as best she could.

“Damn it!” he howled, the loud exclamation ringing in the air between them as his large hand slammed down on the counter, rattling the surface with a bang, and causing Emma to shrink backward against her best effort to hold her ground. “You aren’t so high and mighty that you can just shove me out! I put a roof over you head, and you owe me for it! I’m not leaving ‘til I’m good an’ ready!”

At that, Emma regained herself through sheer outrage alone. This monster had made her childhood miserable, and she wasn’t about to have him barge in and take anything else from her. Standing taller and tipping her chin up to face him squarely, Emma’s spine returned to her after the shock of his appearance, while her hand scrambled carefully through her things beneath the countertop. She hoped Franken wouldn’t notice what she was doing before she could lay hands on the pocketknife she knew was somewhere in her purse. Granted, that wasn’t much of a weapon, but she wasn’t going to face him without any sort of defense - not ever again.

An eerie sort of calm washed over the man for a moment then, as if he and Emma were locked in a stalemate and her facing him steadily had given him pause. His exacting gaze continued to take in the large main room of her shop, and Emma held her breath, finally feeling her fingertips graze the handle she was searching for at the bottom of her purse. She knew better than to drop her guard; his quiet hesitation was like a hurricane’s eye, the calm before the gale began to batter and howl once more. Grasping her prize, Emma pulled it free and flicked it open, not wanting to show her hand too soon and yield the element of surprise if she had to wield it.

As Franken returned his focus to her, an unnatural almost proud look crossed his features, as out of place as it was, particularly when an attempt at some sort of paternal smile twisted his visage. “Seems like you’ve done alright for yourself since I saw you last, Emma,” he finally murmured in a cajoling tone.

She snorted; regardless of how dangerous it might be to antagonize him, she couldn’t even pretend they were on terms to make friendly small talk. “If I am doing well, it’s no thanks to you,” she retorted bitterly.

Franken’s nostrils flared as he reeled back to his full height, the calm attempt at appealing to her good side shattered in an instant. “Ungrateful wench!” he hollered, eyes bulging wide as he swung a hand wildly, catching the edge of a large, framed portrait on the wall behind him and knocking it to the floor, where it crashed on its face and sent glass shattering outward in a wide spray. “After I took you in, fed you, clothed you, saw that you had a roof over your head? Now you’re too good to return the favor?”

Emma gasped in dismay at the largest piece in her gallery’s fall and destruction, but was quick enough to dodge his flailing hand when Franken reached out in an attempt to grab her shoulder and haul her close. She was just fast enough to evade him, thankfully. She might be fully grown now instead of a scrawny, underfed kid, but she still didn’t need to find out what he would do if he got a good hold on her.

“Took me in?” she spat back, practically seething in anger that he would dare pretend he had actually provided any sort of genuine care. “Is that what you did?” Shaking her head in disbelief, Emma finally raised the small blade before her, as if warning him to keep his distance, even if there wasn’t much more space behind the counter for her to put between them. “Which part am I supposed to be grateful for, hmm?” she barrelled on, now that the gates were open, her words kept spilling out. “The beatings that left me so sore I could barely sit or walk for days afterward? The hours I spent locked in the pitch dark cellar as punishment for my demons? The shame and fear you made sure I never forgot from the moment I crossed the threshold of your house until the day I got away from it?” The small pocket knife wavered along with her hand, and her vision blurred with hot tears of frustration, but Emma didn’t falter. “Tell me what exactly I should be thanking you for?”

With a wild growl, he whirled away from her, grabbing frames from their hooks and hurling them against the walls or to the floor, knocking a large easel to the ground and smashing his foot through the canvas print it had held. He was on as much a tear as a toddler having a fit, but imminently more dangerous. Rounding on her again, his eyes were wild, and if possible, Emma would have sworn he was foaming at the mouth.

It was then, in desperation to save the work he hadn’t already destroyed, that she acted without thinking clearly and charged out from behind the counter she had carefully kept between them - so focused on making him leave that she left herself vulnerable by coming too close. “Get out!” Emma cried, mindless of his larger build and out of control demeanor; the threat he posed flying from her head as her work - the pictures she’d poured her heart and soul into, and the inventory she needed to keep her business afloat - clattered to the ground, breaking and being trashed before her eyes. She might still have the small blade gripped in her sweaty fingers, but she wasn’t thinking about defense as much as ridding herself of his presence before he destroyed her means of livelihood. “You have no right to anything from me! You need to get out of here before I call the police and tell them you’re in town!”

Franken whirled from the far wall where he’d been wreaking havoc and instead turned towards her seething with unrestrained rage. There were many times in her years growing up when Emma had feared that this man was unstable; dangerously obsessed with her “unholy” visions and driving them from her by any means necessary, and that his volatile fanaticism would injure her beyond what she could heal from or survive. Emma had spent far longer than was fair, wasted too much of her life, waiting to be out from under his thumb, no longer catching her breath and ducking a fist sure to fly or a bruising belt buckle if she said too much or let the wrong words slip. It had been long enough now though that she wasn’t guarding every thought and impulse, and she didn’t stop to second guess or recognize the danger as she took her stand. Willing to defend this little space she’d made for herself, even if it meant facing the monster from her past head-on and all alone.

The violence that twinkled maliciously in Franken’s deep, dark gaze should have been a warning, but Emma was too riled up and determined that this time she wasn’t backing down, wasn’t letting this pathetic excuse for a man take anything more from her. Where a younger, more wary version of herself would have shrunk back and put space between them, Emma instead pressed forward capitalizing on the man’s momentary shock. She wasn’t sure what she intended to try next if he didn’t move, but her body seemed determined to herd him out the door, with or without the full thought and cooperation of her racing brain.

Barely a moment’s warning, where a low, evil chuckle rumbled from his throat, evidencing anything but humor, was the only signal Emma got, and the next thing she knew, Franken had struck so fast she didn’t even see the movement - like a copperhead concealed in dank marsh water, having already bitten a person before one even knew it was there. Her head whipped to the side with the impact of his fist shooting out and making contact, leaving her ears ringing and her lungs gasping for air.

Emma struggled to keep her feet beneath her, even as the world around her tilted sideways. A wailing inside her head like sirens brought back all the times she had fallen before this monster as a child, curled tightly in a ball to protect herself from the blows he’d rained down on her for the smallest imagined infractions or the involuntary glimpses of prescient knowledge she couldn’t help possessing - they’d been part of who she was even then, as much a her hair or eye color, and they refused to stay hidden. Emma had attempted to - for all she was worth - having immediately learned speaking of what she saw, no matter how important it might seem, only earned her more suffering and degradation.

Flailing her arms, she managed to catch the side of the counter and steady herself before she went tumbling to the floor. Franken was right there, coming for her again with his arm raised, no doubt reveling in the same sort of drunken power he had missed while the inexorable familiarity of the old, horrible pattern clutched Emma by the throat with fear.

This time she wasn’t having it. She’d fight him even if it broke every bone in her body. With a cry of pain soaked in years of suffering unheard, Emma pushed off the counter, leading with the sharp pocket knife and sheer desperation, she meant to make her own mark this time. “Leave me alone!” she bellowed, as she took her first step to meet him.

But, despite his own seeming haze of madness and unsteady mind, Vic Franken was still quick and powerful as a gator and just as mean. Much like he’d always been, he was too large a foe for her to fell unprepared and without proper defenses. His meaty paw caught her wrist with crushing strength, until her fingers were forced to release her blade and it clattered to the floor and skittered away uselessly as she felt her tendons and bones ground painfully beneath his grip.

He pulled her close to his face until their noses nearly touched, as if trying to understand why he couldn’t make her cower the way he once had. Emma could just begin to hear the blessed sound of sirens in the distance that she prayed were coming their way. Thank goodness she had shouldered the extra cost of hidden cameras and a security company who monitored their feed continuously. When he’d begun to tear her gallery apart it would have been obvious help was needed though she’d had no time to call for it.

“You think this is over?” he hissed angrily. “I’m not finished with you…far from it. You won’t be rid of me until I say so. Don’t you forget it.”

Flinging Emma away like a discarded ragdoll, she stumbled with the force of it, tripping on the debris that littered the floor and slamming back into the counter that had saved her minutes before. Franken fled out the door and was gone, and she slumped to the floor - for the moment too dizzy and aching to get up again. Trying to catch her breath and make her surroundings stop whirling around her, Emma breathed slowly, closing her eyes and allowing her head to lean groggily against the smooth, cool surface until she could gather her bearings.

The siren sounds drew nearer still, for which she was so thankful she could cry, but then she heard the door swing open once more, and she lurched frantically to attention, struggling to get her feet under her for fear that he had come back to finish her off. What she saw instead almost started her laughing hysterically, having never imagined this particular visitor’s appearance would send relief washing over her.

“Emma?” Ruby Jones’ voice was shocked and disbelieving, even concerned, all rolled into one as her heels click-clacked right across all the broken glass towards her before she crouched at her side, fingers already gingerly dabbing at the trickle of blood from the broken skin at her temple and then holding an honest-to-goodness monogrammed handkerchief to the spot. “What happened here?”

Emma reached out to still Ruby’s hand, shaking her head with as little force as possible and still wincing, “More who than what…” she managed, still trying to fully gather her wits and fighting for her speech not to sound slurred. She swallowed, wetting her lips and pressing on. “It was Franken….my old foster father…remember?” Ruby nodded, mouth and eyes both gaping wide at her. Emma sighed, “Thank - thank goodness it sounds like those sirens are close… don’t wanna tell this all more than once.”

“Vic Franken?” Ruby growled, her wide eyes narrowing. She looked for a second as if she might have clawed the man’s eyes out herself if she had been here just a little sooner. Emma again had to choke back out of place hilarity at the other woman’s defense of her. Rose would have loved it; she was just trying not to get whiplash. “What did that bastard think he was doing coming here?” Ruby snapped out.

Emma chuckled lightly, squinting against the way even that made her head hurt. Somehow Ruby’s fiery temper made her heart feel a little lighter. This nightmare was still dogging her, but the sheer absurdity of someone she’d have sworn even two days ago couldn’t stand her being ready to fight for her, lightened the dark cloud that had settled over her. Giving the former debutante a mischievous, if weary, side eye, she teased. “Whoo, Miss Ruby! That’s quite a mouth you’ve got there for a nice Southern belle! What would your Mama say?!”

Ruby rolled her eyes at the teasing with a dismissive snort, even as she let Emma grip her forearms and help her to stand again, holding on until sure she was steady. “Well, first she would have told me to walk on by and leave you where you fell, so clearly I don’t much care what she has to say.”

Emma began to nod her acknowledgement that what Ruby said was true, then quickly thought better of it at the shot of pain that lanced through her.

Ruby shrugged, offering a crooked smile. “Besides,” she added ruefully, “Mama despaired of me a long time ago.”

Emma drew in a sharp breath, a few sadly clarifying things about Killian and Rose’s sister instantly becoming clear.

“Now,” Ruby continued, red fingernail raised to point at Emma authoritatively, “you are gonna report this sorry excuse of a man so they can nail him to the wall, and then we’re gonna get you patched up, okay?”

Emma didn’t get to respond further as they were interrupted by what seemed to be the entire Storybrooke police force’s arrival just then, with a worried David Nolan leading the charge. She’d give her former defender credit. Though he looked half beside himself when he first burst through the door, his deputies flanking him, David quickly saw that the perpetrator was gone and, while she was injured and shaken, Emma was no longer in immediate danger and had someone at her side. With an almost visible effort, he reigned in his protectiveness and brought his anxiety back under stern professional control.

Turning, he began capably barking out orders to his fellow officers - not unkindly, but feeling the urgency and not at all wanting to allow Franken to escape and cause this sort of damage again. Through the buzzing that seemed to have taken up residence in her brain, Emma heard David directing a perimeter to be set up to keep Franken from getting out of town, with an APB being put out with Franken’s name and description to all possible news outlets. He also organized the coordination of his people coming in to gather evidence and block off the space outside on the walk so gawkers couldn’t make their way in and disturb anything that could aid in their search.

Though there were an overwhelming number of people swarming all about inside the shop, Emma was grateful that only David himself came over to ask a few questions of her. Ruby had led her, wordless as she had ever seen the youngest Jones sibling, over to one of the tall stools at the counter, coaxing her into gingerly sitting down, being kind enough even to avert her gaze and hold back her own questions when Emma leaned slightly over, her still-spinning head against Ruby’s side as she attempted to swallow her nausea back down her throat. Ruby just rubbed a hand across Emma’s shoulder blades gently and stood there as steady and calm as a pillar of marble.

David stooped to look into Emma’s eyes with his own careful concern as he reached them. “Do you feel dizzy? Nauseous?” he asked promptly, his words clipped and tight, making the strain he was still under to remain calm and professional all too clear. Emma was fairly certain he already knew the answer anyway. If she tried to shake her head and deny his suspicions, her world would only keep spinning more frantically.

Just barely meeting his anxious stare with her eyes slitted narrowly open, she managed a half-convincing, “Calm down, Nolan. We all know I’ve had worse.”

The sheriff’s lips pressed together into a thin line, his whole expression pulled taut enough that Emma couldn’t even gauge whether anger, guilt, or fear was playing the largest role. His arms crossed firmly over his broad chest as he stood back to his full height, sensing that hovering would not make her any more agreeable, but he didn’t cease watching her, not allowing her to shut him out. “That isn’t funny,” he ground out, low enough that in the bustle around the shop only she, Ruby, and himself heard the admonishment, yet she felt chastened all the same. “You are clearly not safe, even out in the open, in broad daylight, and what if the security company hadn’t called us soon enough, if Ruby hadn’t walked in when she did? Emma, you could have been - “

Her eyes shot up to meet his savagely, knowing the rest of his sentence and not wanting it spoken aloud. Despite the ringing in her ears and rolling of her stomach, her fierce look froze the words on David’s tongue. She’d traveled so far, worked so hard to be more than the helpless, pitied victim of that man’s abuse - and she wasn’t letting him make her one again.

Before any of them could speak further, or the tension between them could fully dissipate, the door flung back on its hinges wildly as someone else rushed into her gallery. “Emma!” Killian’s unmistakable voice called out, cracking with worry on the second syllable, even as David moved aside slightly so his friend could see her for himself.

A strangled sound escaped his throat, and in moments Jones was across the room and on his knees before her, reaching out as if to pull her close, then jolting back as he took in the trickle of blood and the bruising that had already begun to color the side of her face. Looking wracked with indecision, he simply held his place before her, as near as he dared, and breathed out a choked, “What happened, Swan? Are - are you alright?”

“She will be,” Ruby offered with much needed certainty from beside Emma, laying her hand on her brother’s shoulder, as if to steady him and remind them both that she was there. It was new from her - for both of them - but her typical self assurance was bolstering in the fraught moment and incredibly welcome.

Killian finally released a full breath, his forehead falling to rest upon her knee, and his fingers reflexively clutching her denim-clad leg for a moment as he trembled with relief. After a moment to gather himself, he looked up into Emma’s face from where he crouched before her, eyes swimming with unasked questions and the fear - still all too close to the surface - that he had nearly lost her.

Emma didn’t have the strength to hold back, not in that tremulous moment when she was hurt and wanted to scream at the unfairness of everything falling apart around her. She grasped his t-shirt at the shoulder, comforted by his warm solidity beneath, and ran a hand over his brow, amazed that he was there and was so intensely concerned - and that she allows herself the luxury of that - before trailing her fingers through his unruly dark hair. “It was Franken,” she murmured lowly, just wanting it all out, like poison drawn from a wound. “He was here, mostly after money, I think…” she paused. “But as you can see,” she gestured to her face, “that clearly wasn’t enough to keep him from leaving a souvenir for old times’ sake.”

She could see the angry tic in Killian’s jaw, working to restrain the fury he felt, and though his was quieter, it seemed to run even deeper and even harder to contain than David’s had before it.

At that, David broke into the moment. “Killian, why don’t you take Emma to Storybrooke General to be checked out? I can swing by there later, when all this is under control, if I have any questions that can’t wait until tomorrow.” He waved to the crime scene which her gallery had become as he spoke.

Killian’s “Aye” and terse nod were all that voiced his agreement to the sheriff’s suggestion, but he stood and offered Emma a hand; balance and support to pull herself up if she chose to take it. Ruby squeezed her hand, promising she would check on her later as well.

She wanted to argue, to say the fuss wasn’t necessary, but as she stood and then wavered unsteadily, she knew there was no point. She merely took Killian’s arm and leaned on him wordlessly without a fight. None of the three people surrounding her would let her close call be brushed aside - not this time. For now, she accepted the concern and decided she’d give herself a minute in which she didn’t have to be so strong.

*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*~~~*

A few hours later Killian was leading Emma from the waiting room of the small local hospital, walking and as close behind her as humanly possible without getting their feet tangled and making her fall. She wanted to tell him that she’d be fine, to take her back to her car and then go on home, but the determined and independent core she had built up, the one which usually allowed her to offer those placating refrains so easily seemed irretrievably weakened. She couldn’t push him away. Where she would usually deny or ignore whatever had shaken her, Emma couldn’t this time. After all she had accomplished and how far she had traveled, after how long she had denied herself and stayed as far away as she could, it hadn’t been enough - not long enough, not far enough - her past and its monster had still found her and attacked.

So she didn’t want to need Killian Jones’ warm and steady palm at the small of her back, the comforting heat and gentle, guiding pressure easily felt through the thin material of her cotton blouse, but need it she did. “Come Lass, the truck’s over here,” he murmured, soothing and low near her ear, leaning in to speak for her ears alone as he steered her toward the corner of the lot where he had parked.

There really hadn’t been much anyone could do for the busted lip and rapidly blackening eye she was sporting, other than cautioning her to ice it often and to take aspirin as needed for the pain, but they had made sure nothing was broken in her nose, cheekbones, or jaw. She had also been cautioned, since she’d suffered some nausea at first, that if she became dizzy again or threw up, she should return for further examination. She hadn’t presented with a concussion, but one might sometimes show up later, and they wouldn’t want to miss it if so.

The doctor who had looked her over and the nurse were both concerned about sending Emma home alone; they wanted her observed and awakened every couple of hours. At Killian’s assurance that he would stay with her and do just as they suggested, however, they had relented and she had finally been released.

It wasn’t until he was helping her up into the high seat of his truck’s cab and moving to shut the door that she finally forced herself to protest - it was too much, he didn’t need to put himself out.

Killian was having none of it. He wouldn’t even let her finish, interrupting her protests in a heavy handed way she hadn’t yet seen from him. The solemnity of his vow was irrefutable when he swore that “This time, Love, you won’t be alone until that bastard is caught. Not until this is over.” His eyes burned into her like twin blue flames. “You are too precious for me to do otherwise.”

As much as the fervent emotion from him stole her breath, frustration mounted within her right alongside it. She’d spent so much of her early life beholden to one person or another, moved and driven by the whims of Fate or the system. She didn’t want to be a responsibility or a chore to anyone - not even someone honorable, who took his role as seriously as Killian. Especially not to Killian. She shook her head angrily, biting back tears. “This is stupid! I’ll just go…”

Jones didn’t even hesitate. “Then I’m going too… to the end of the Earth, if that’s where you’re headed.”

She was swiping at the errant tears that wouldn’t be held back any longer, wincing when she got too close to the tender area near her eye socket and sniffing back worse sobs as she beseeched him in last resort. “Why? Killian, why would you do that? So you can get yourself killed trying to protect me?!?”

But he merely shook his head, leaning into her space, pressing his forehead to hers and his warm breath caressing her cheek. “I’m not going to let that happen, Swan. We’ve both lost enough. I’m with you now - no matter what - and we’re going to stand and fight.”

Tagging a few who might enjoy: @cssns @kmomof4 @jrob64 @jennjenn615 @searchingwardrobes @whimsicallyenchantedrose @laschatzi @apiratewhopines @xarandomdreamx @anmylica @booksteaandtoomuchtv @spartanguard @therooksshiningknight @tiganasummertree @optomisticgirl @bluewildcatfanatic @xsajx @teamhook @revanmeetra @iamstartraveller776 @gingerchangeling @gingerpolyglot @blackwidownat2814 @blowmiakisscolin @let-it-raines @motherkatereloyshipper @jonesfandomfanatic @elizabeethan @the-darkdragonfly @donteattheappleshook @lfh1226-linda @winterbaby89 @hollyethecurious @darkcolinodonorgasm @resident-of-storybrooke @drowned-dreamer @stahlop @wefoundloveunderthelight @eastwesthomeisbest @sotangledupinit @justanother-unluckysoul @ultraluckycatnd @bdevereaux @caught-in-the-filter @belovedcreation @lenfaz

#cssns23 #cs modern au mc #cs movie au #cssns fic update #carolina moon #chapter five #some violence #some angst #just a fair warning #but also a line I've been dying to have Killian say...

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opheliajupiter99 · 1 month

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Death's Cold Embrace Pt. 2 (OUAW Horror Fanfic)

*The rest of the Carnivale had settled down to camp while they waited for Gricko to come back with Frost. The moon had hung high in the sky for quite some time now, and still Gricko had not returned. Hootsie whimpered, her head laid in Gideon's lap as he attempted to comfort the poor girl, dearly missing her papa*

*Torbek had fallen asleep, while Twig sat near Kremy, pouting as she looked up at him* "What if morning comes, and Gricko's still not back?" *She says, cupping her hands together as she speaks. Kremy looks out towards where Gricko had walked, sighing heavily* "Then we go find him." *He says, pausing for a moment to think before continuing* "...But if both of them end up lost, it must've been something real bad. The two of them ain't pushovers, after all."

*The two of them fall silent, trying not to imagine what kind of horrible monster could've not only taken both of them, but taken them without any of them noticing. Gricko was a bit easier to explain, as he'd wandered off out of sight; but what about Frost? One moment he was there, the next he wasn't. What could've possibly done that?*

*They continued to wait, but eventually the ache of sleep called to each of them, one of one, until each was tucked away in their sleeping bags. As Twig slept, she dreamed; but it wasn't as she normally dreamed. She was lost in black, swirling emptiness, only occasionally greeted with a sudden image, flashing through her head like a burst of lightning, scattered glimpses of a tower and a figure looming in the shadows. Then, she heard a voice...*

"Twigfield...come to me..."

*The voice sounded like Frost, but the tone in which the voice spoke was much darker; a haunting, looming threat. Despite this however, she found herself lulled by the strange voice, and her mind seemed to grow numb. So numb, in fact, that she didn't even realize that, while her mind remained dreaming, her body rose from its sleep, and her tired wings fluttered gently towards the voice, like a moth's wings would flutter towards a flame*

*When morning came, the remaining carnies found themselves missing now three members of their group. Torbek hugged Hootsie close, as they both were on the verge of a panic attack at this point, while Kremy and Gideon sat close together, trying to stay strong for the sake of the others*

*The husbands were silent for a few moments, Kremy with his legs tucked up against his chest, and his hands over his knees, head leaned against them as he stared off at nothing in particular, while Gideon sat with his legs outwards, fists clenching and unclenching as his face formed a scowl* "How the fuck could this happen?!" *The Genasi finally blurted out, startling the poor owlbear cub nearby that nuzzled closer to her Bugbear uncle*

*Kremy put a hand to his beloved shoulder* "Hey, hey, calm down, a'ight? It's gonna be-" *He began, before said beloved pulled away from his grasp, glaring at it* "Don't tell me it's gonna be fuckin' alright! Somethin's pickin' us off one by one right under our fuckin' noses! We don't know what the fuck happened to em, where they went, or even what the fuck it even is! I think I'm well within my goddamn wrong's to not calm the fuck down!" *Kremy just hung his head as Gid had this outburst, staring down at the ground in shame*

*After a moment, Gid's face softened a bit, sighing* "...I'm sorry. I just...what the fuck are we gonna do, man? Whatever this is clearly has a leg up on us - I mean we can't even spot it long enough to see em poof away." *The somber gator remains silent, still staring at the ground. Despite his demeanor of being a 'solo act' as it were, not caring for anyone beyond himself, he couldn't help but be filled with a venomous self-loathing whenever one of his dear family was harmed, especially by something he felt like he should've been able to stop in some way*

"...Bait." *The gator said finally, Gid blinking* "What?" "Bait." *Kremy repeated* "If whatever it is picks us off one by one and waits for some kind of right time to do it, then...one of us could be bait. Even if we don't -see- it show up, we could get some kind of idea of what it is, what it does, that sorta thing." *He said, his expression and tone both somber, knowing full well the kind of risk that person would be putting themselves under. The husbands look between each other, silent for several long, miserable moments; both were willing to sacrifice themselves, but neither wanted to lose the other*

"Torbek can go." *Torbek said suddenly, breaking the silence. The pair both looked to him* "N-No, come on man...we can't let you get locked up again." *Gideon said, frowning with concern. Torbek shook his head* "Torbek can't raise Hootsie. Mr. Kremy and Mr. Gideon promised they'd raise Hootsie if anything happened to Gricko, didn't you?" *The husbands look to each other, and each nodded slowly* "If Torbek has to get locked up again - or even die - Torbek wants to do it for his friends. And cause Torbek -chose- to do it, not cause somebody else told him to."

*Gideon felt tears come to the corners of his eyes; he knew that desire all too well. He always felt that he didn't care much how or when he died, as long as he died a free man - and a death in service of his friends would be the greatest death of all. He took a deep breath, and nodded* "I can't take choice away from a man whose had so few. We'll keep you as safe as we can, man...I promise." *Kremy frowned deeply, his guilty conscious only growing heavier - but Gid was right. It was Torbek's choice. He shut his eyes tight as tears formed, and nodded slowly*

*The group agreed to wait until nightfall to enact this plan, as that's when whatever it was they were dealing with seemed to strike. They ate, and enjoyed each other's company in the meantime, trying to keep Hootsie's spirits up as best they could, as well as steel their own nerves*

*...All while a dazed little Brownie sat perched high up in a tree nearby, staring blankly down towards the campsite, as her new master watched through her eyes*

#once upon a witchlight #legends of avantris #once upon a witchlight fanfic #horror #morning frost #twig toadspring #kremy lecroux #gideon coal #hootsie grimgrin #torbek

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cherry-dr0p · 8 months

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I WISH TO RAMBLE!! IM NOT GONNA INCLUDE IMAGES BECAUSE I DONT WANNA BUT HERE WE GO

HUGE TWF4 SPOILERS

I HAVE SO MUCH TO SAY!!!

Im not gonna lie, the start kinda had me like "This is what I waited ages for?" But then when the animatronic testing came around, thats when my interest truly started to pick up.

First of all, WHY WOULD YOU TGINK THAT FACIAL RECOGNITION FOR ANIMATRONICS IS A GOOD IDEA??? GENUINELY DID NO ONE HAVE THE COMMON SEMSE TO GO "HM, THIS MAY END NOT GOOD". Like I kind of understand the appeal for it because they may want the kids to feel,, more connected to the animatronics?? I dunno. But like?? I can understand for that time period the desire to have the animatronics interact with the audience (Not saying its a good idea but at least I can understand with this one why they may think it is in my head), but cmon..

Then from what I remember, the sprites came. And Good god did they creep me out slightly when I first saw them, especially Edd and Molly. I dunno, there was something extra creepy in my eyes seeing kids' faces messed up like that. Crazy. I also screamed when I finally saw "Bon" because Ive been keeping up with the Twitter TWF community somewhat, which means I already technically knew about "Bon". It was pretty cool to have him finally introduced in the actual story himself. Also Charles and Susan talking about Felix's addiction and if they should tell Rosemary and Jack(?) is crazy.

Aaaahhh but then the scene with Jack came around. Was rooting for him ngl. I honestly thought he died at the well scene but I dont see any correlation to that quite yet,, mayhaps. Felix almost jumping did make me feel a tiny bit bad for him bit like,, still. Fuck you Felix. I still hate him and 100% think hes getting what hes deserving. He feels guilty? Good. He should.

I cant remember if the Susan scene comes after this or not but I erm uh,,, That was VERY well done!! It gave me chills how you could still hear her breathe. Genuinely. The blood as well and Rocket closing their eyes?? Crazy. The jittery animation drove me insane, it was such an amazing detail that made things far more uncomfortable.

I cant remember where abouts the other Felix scene came but,, HE DOESNT KNOW WHAT TO DO WITH ROCKET. I DUNNO,, DO ANYTHING OTHER THAN TAKE IT WITH YOU?? PUT IT IN YOUR HOME OR RESTAURANT?? WHY DID YOU THINK THAT WAS A GOOD IDEA. I SWEAR, MY GUY HAS NEGATIVE BRAINCELLS... But I also think we all know why he's so attached,, him getting haunted by the kids is wild.

The last scene very much makes me think "Bon" is Jack. I unno, very much could be wrong but just the way he talks and is dressed makes me think he is. The fact that he knows so well of what hes talking about and the voice,, maybe the general face shape too. Me thinks its either Brian(Ive saw that theory floating around) or Jack, but Im more leaning towards Jack. It also freaked me out slightly the way Susan came on all deformed too, that was freaky. The voices of all the characters in this new afterlife were very VERY cool too. And the whole mask being given and "Bon" talking about making her "beautiful" too? That was cool. The scene with Edd and Molly debating whether to save Susan too filled my heart with a weird sort of awe. They have a great relationship as siblings together imo, I do very much love their dynamic.

It'd be cool to see the other two episodes for the finale which I think are coming out very soon!! Which is very exciting!! I 100% reccomend TWF4, it's phenomenal and the wait was 200% worth it in my eyes. You can definitely see the developers heart and soul being put into this project, which is very nice to see. In my eyes, you dont see it often. I dunno if I missed out a scene or two from my rant but overall? I adored watching this (Ive already told some of my friends to watch it >:3).

Rant over anyways, buh bye for now :3

#The Walten Files 4 #TWF 4 #TWF4 #TheWaltenFiles4 #THIS WAS SO GOOD #IT WAS BETTER THAN I EXPECTED IT TO BE #My honest reaction to Felix feeling guilty but doesnt do anything to help himself at all at the same time #WHAT IS HIS ISSUEEEE #You can tell what I think of Felix LMAO #Hes actually my second favourite character though #Felix is v interesting #But Brian Stells will always have a special place in my heart #God bless the man with two to five minutes of screen time

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elvisabutler · 1 year

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oh god could we Please get a fic where austin gets pegged 🙏🙏🙏 i need it

get the feeling

summary: once upon a time there was a man in love with a woman. once upon a time that woman wanted to peg the man. the man had no real objections. fandom: austin butler rating: m pairing: austin butler x plus sized female reader word count: 2295 warning: pegging. use of the word good boy. at least faint dom/sub vibes. sub austin. little bit of crying. little bit of come play. talk about prepping for anal penetration. coming without being touched. handjobs technically. brief mention of the reader wanting to call a strap on a cock. a faint trace of feminization i think but i can't quite tell. just in case we'll add it. use of the color system ( red, yellow, green ) for sex. author’s note: ah anon, i know where this came from. i do throwaway lines and they come back to haunt me in the best of ways. i basically began and finished this today. something about getting a full proper night of sleep inspired me i guess. haven't written pegging in- forever because i think i've written it maybe once or twice for other fandoms. hope you enjoy and hope this scratched an itch for you. and consider this a continuation of every lover's got a dagger in their hand because that's what i did. also y'all wanna be part of my tag list fill this out here.

Ever since Austin had made what you and him both affectionately call "The Miscalculation" in thinking that maybe you enjoyed daddy kink you two hadn't really tried much of anything. Busy schedules preventing much more than quick pecks and just as quick sex. It's not a problem, you both knew what you signed up for being with the other person and yet it allows both of you- or at least you to fantasize when you're alone. It allows your mind to swirl with thoughts and images of various positions and things you want to do with Austin. It helps your job, allowing you to take scenes in ways that were new and adventurous while still staying firmly in agreed upon limits but you find yourself wishing more and more you could finally get an opportunity to enact the fantasy with the object of your fantasy.

Thankfully the opportunity presents itself in one of the rare weekends Austin has had off at the same time you are off. Or more accurately the opportunity to bring up the subject arose as he stroked your hair and you drew shapes on his torso.

"Would you ever mind being pegged? Or is that a hard no?" The question is asked with zero preamble but if there's one thing you're pretty certain Austin knows about you by now it's that you are incredibly direct when you want to be and this particular time is no exception. Truly, this time just goes hand in hand with any discussion you have about sex, just a remarkably frank talk that the other person just tends to be along on the ride for.

Austin chokes on his spit a little at the sudden question but recovers startlingly quick, planting a kiss on the crown of your head as he answers. "I. I never thought about it before The Miscalculation," he pauses and you hear the sound of his saliva wetting his lips as he licks them, "but it's been in my head for a little bit, lately. I know you'd take care of me."

Your mind latches onto the idea of him thinking about it like you had. It latches onto the idea that he's been fantasizing about you with a strap on sliding in and out of him. That he's been fantasizing about whimpering and whining and begging to come undone beneath you. You feel the fire of your arousal go from faint embers to a roaring heat as you grab one of his hands and feel his fingers slide through your folds. Your question comes out a little shaky.

"Can I take care of you tomorrow?"

As it turns out he had no objections to that in the slightest. There were no dinners you two had made plans to go to. There were no work related events that might crop up. There was nothing but you and him and your bed. It's been your experience that people do their best prep for things like this by themselves. Of course, you always do a final inspection and help where you can but there's something uniquely intimate about cleaning yourself out this way and you- despite knowing how much Austin cares for you and adores you, you don't want to rush him. You don't want to cause him any undue discomfort partially so that it doesn't sour the mere idea of the actions that are about to happen but also because he's the man you love. He's the man you love and the fierce protectiveness you know he feels for you goes both ways. Your own protectiveness wraps itself around him like an armor and you're loathe to hurt him- to cause a single chink in that armor.

He does a remarkably good job at prepping himself, and you wonder briefly if he truly has never done this before. You know he hasn't though, know it's just a side effect of knowing how to clean himself properly and thoroughly. When you open the door he has his fingers starting to trace his hole with some hesitation. It was one thing to clean himself out, another to lube himself up. Your voice is a soft murmur as you press your naked body against his, making sure your full breasts push against his back. "On the bed, baby boy. On the bed for your queen."

His lips curl into a smile at the term of endearment he's used for you once or twice before. Perhaps that should be what he calls you in situations like this, ma'am and queen. Perhaps that encompasses your relationship in ways mama and mistress and any other combination of words do. You hum as you watch him walk to the bed with all the grace of a newborn fawn before flopping on the bed. A chuckle leaves your lips and you know you should tell him move, to make it easier for you to make sure you thoroughly prep him but instead you lay down beside him and take the lube, generously coating your fingers before you start to prep him. Involuntarily he tenses before you shush him, your free hand stroking his cheek. "Relax, it's just me. Just making sure I won't hurt you. Remember how you work me open when I'm not ready?"

He nods, a noise that sounds almost like a whine escaping his lips as he relaxes slowly but surely allowing your finger to slide into his hole. You take your time, allowing Austin to set the pace as you feel him relax more and more. Your hand stays on his face for a few minutes before he grabs your wrist and moves it down his torso. He's always been sensitive there and you feel the muscles tense as your fingertips dance across the skin as you move lower and lower, brushing past his cock that's slowly filling up the more you press against his prostate and settle on his thigh. A squeeze has him whining your name as you shush him whispering little sweet nothings into his ears.You hear his breath even out even as it hitches when you hit that certain spot inside him or when you move to add another finger but he takes them so well. He takes them so well and you can't help the words that leave your mouth.

"That's my good baby boy, being good for your queen. Relaxing for her, getting ready to take her. Gonna look so pretty with me inside of you, aren't you? Gonna bounce up and down on your queen, hm? Or am I going to have to do all the work." The last words are punctuated by you removing your hand, marveling in how he grinds back, whining when there's nothing there.

"Y/N. Don't- Why did you take them out?" Austin's voice sounds minorly unfamiliar to his own ears as he keeps grinding back until you put them back in and brush against where he wants you to, a sigh of relief exiting his body.

"You don't want more? Don't want to be stretched out around my strap on?" The word cock itches in your mouth and dances around but you tamp down on the urge, this is your boyfriend not a client. "Your queen's been so good at prepping you, wouldn't want that to go to waste would we?"

His head shake would be entertaining if you didn't realize he might be sliding into a space he can't handle just yet. It's violent and has you pulling out your hand and your other hand to make him focus on you and before you get the words out he smiles, "green."

Green. He's fine and you move to grab the lube again, coating your hand and the dildo attached to your strap on, watching as his eyes zero in on it. He bites his lip, and you swear you see a bit of drool that has you putting on a bit of a show. "Baby boy? You want your queen to fill you up now? You gonna climb on top of her? Ride her like she's ridden you before?"

What happens next is something you weren't expecting. Austin has been nervous and you've been worried he's going to call this off. It would have been fine and you would have understood wholeheartedly but you wanted to fulfill a fantasy for both of you. Yet here was your nervous boyfriend practically clamoring on the bed to be able to sink himself down on you. You see the muscles in his arms tense as he holds himself up, trying to figure out the best way to do things before you grasp the dildo and nod slowly as if to tell him it's alright. You know he knows to go slow even if he's excitable and you see the tear and the way his face winces just a bit even with the preparation and your free hand moves to wipe those tears away and cup his cheek.

"Good boy, there you go, nice and steady. You've got this. I'm so proud of you. Taking me so well, gonna make you feel so good, baby boy," your murmurs have him humming softly as he looks down at you, love clear as day in his eyes even as they flutter shut. You had told him not to bottom out just yet but he does and nearly shoots off of you when he realizes he just put an obscene amount of pressure on his prostate.

"Fuck. Ma'am. Queen. Y/N," Every word he can think of to be a name for you erupts from his mouth in a whimper, his arms and his thighs shaking. He hasn't come and yet he knows he probably will sooner rather than later.

"What's happening?" You ask, as your hand moves from his cheek down his neck and down to his collarbone as he starts to move himself off of you only to sink back down with a growl. "Color?"

"G-Green. Green Yellow." He forces the words out as he looks at you, watches your hand move down his torso, scratching at his nipples in a fit of minor overstimulation. "Green Yellow."

"Too much?" A simple question as you pull your hand away only to have him grab your wrist and put it close to his cock, whining as you brush that spot inside him again. "You want me to play with your cock, baby boy?

He nods, the words floating away from his brain and making it impossible for him to answer with words. You should tell him you won't do it unless he can tell you what he wants, what he needs but you understand him better than anyone and know what he wants in this moment. He wants to lose himself, you figure. Not completely but just enough that you are completely in control of his pleasure. Your hand wraps around his cock and he cries out a little. Not in pain but in pleasure that has him bouncing as best as he can above you. One of his hands moves to play with your breasts, pinching and kneading your nipple and the breast itself. He can't tell if you're enjoying this, so he figures this will help. You ought to tell him that his sighs and whimpers and how you feel his thighs tighten around your own- not an easy feet but the way his legs are practically splayed even as he rides you- is a wonder to behold that has you dripping onto the bed. You should tell him you're thinking you're likely to come without being touched. You should tell him these things and yet you hold back, choosing to wrap your hand around his cock and slide it up and down, your thumb playing with the slit and earning hiss after hiss and whimper after whimper.

The muscles in his abdomen are tightening and everything seems to be being wound tighter and tighter and tighter the more you look at him. He opens his mouth to finally let words leave it, to finally ask for something he needs desperately. "Wanna come. Please. Help me, let me come, please."

His voice is so wrecked that you feel your own body shudder with an orgasm as your hand tightens around his cock once more. His whines are getting louder, more pitiful as you look up at him and practically coo, "come for me, baby boy. Cover your queen's chest in your come. Paint me all white."

That does it as he shudders and cries out your name, his release coming it spurts over your stomach and your breasts. His body sags and he whines at the overstimulation from him not holding himself up any more. You're not intensely strong but you're strong enough to shift the two of you into a side by side position that allows you to slide out of him, trying not to relish in how he whines at the loss and whimpers at you petting his cheek and his body. Your own legs are shaky but you need to get up and clean up and you start to before Austin lays his whole arm across you and shakes his head. "Stay just- We'll shower in a bit. Take a bath. I don't- I just want you here right now. Wanna watch you play with my come."

Those last words are half slurred and you can't help but crack a small smile as you take his hand and drag it through the mess he's left on your chest. After a moment of him just staring at you, marveling at what you did you take his fingers and suck on them to clean them off. "Think you can handle this playing right now, baby boy?"

"Green."

#austin butler #austin butler x reader #austin butler x you #austin butler x y/n #austin butler x plus size reader #austin butler smut #austin butler fanfic #austin butler fanfiction #sub austin butler #sub austin #austin butler fic #ally writes

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beholdingbenevolence · 3 months

Text

[YONDER] Distress Signal

(Takes place around the same time as the Final Transmission.)

The room was empty. The familiar lights of vibrant pink glowed among the faint white within the Domeplex control room. Hands would grip the edge of the center console as blue eyes gazed downward. Off in the corner was a powered down android within a charging station, hooked up with wires.

"Is there anything that plagues your mind, sir?" That familiar, digitized voice resounded in the room. "You have been standing there in idle for ten minutes. Are you not staring into space?"

Theus shook his head slightly, snapping back into full attention.

"…I can't help but feel like I'm not done." He sighed, adjusting his posture as he leaned against the console. "Like there's… Something in the back of my mind that is telling me that this is still some sort of beginning."

"This implies that there is an end you are anticipating, sir."

Theus' fingers traced the console, pushing down occasionally to bring up different holograms.

"I- Ugh, I know." He runs his fingers through his hair as he browsed through the different interfaces. "It's a ridiculous thought to have. To- To constantly feel like something might start to crumble right beneath my feet."

Theus would tap on one of the buttons, bringing up an image…

"You… Already know everything there is to know, DovahCom. So I don't really have to say why…"

…It was an image of Theus, Jebodiah, their mom, and their dad together from many, many years ago.

"But… Knowing that he's right here, right underneath my fingertips…" The expression on Theus' face dropped, his eyebrows furrowing as his gaze went from the image to the console. "This is his coffin, right? He said it would be like guiding my hand. But how much more would he be able to do, even if he is just watching from beyond? I…"

His voice would trail off into silence, the air around him almost becoming still in the contemplation. Ever since that night… And those warnings… All the work he did making sure he heeded them, to make the right choices, to make sure he didn't up creating some sort of self-fulfilling prophecy by mistake…

It was a vow to himself. But the uncertainty… The fear…

"I… I don't know. I'd want to think that he'd be proud of me. But… I'm not even sure if I'm at the point where I can be proud of myself."

Theus would close the holograms, letting his grip of the console go and returning to proper posture. There was a short shrug as his arms swung back to his side, hands slightly slapping his thighs as they rested. The circling icon within the center of the screen would flash as DovahCom would speak up.

"Your efforts have proven to uphold the Legacy, some suggesting that it has even strengthened. There is certainty that people would say that you should be proud of the work you have done. I am inclined to agree with this statement."

A slight, soft chuckle escaped Theus as he tugged on his jacket slightly.

"Thank you, DovahCom. I just…" He crossed his arms and looked towards the side a bit. "I guess the thought of what could have been still haunts me… If I had not stopped my father and gave him the help he desperately needed…"

Silence filled the room with both parties without a single word… Theus would eventually start to move again, getting ready to head out of the control room.

"That's… For another day. There's still work to be done and… I can't stop now-"

"If I may interrupt, sir, our satellites have picked up on an object approaching our orbit."

"What?!"

DovahCom would immediate load up different holographic scans of the planet. Some showed the different satellite locations, others their statuses. In the center was a camera view from one of them. It didn't look to be any debris nor did it look like an asteroid of sorts.

It looked like…

A small spacecraft?

"An extraterrestrial shuttle is closing in on Nadoria without any signs of cessation. Its speed was noted to have slowed as it started to approach the atmosphere and its appearance does not suggest that it is a combat vessel. Do we engage in first contact, sir?"

"Scan for any signs of life."

"Scans show six different lifeforms, one in critical condition. There are no signs of having endured attack during its travel, suggesting that the one lifeform must have been wounded either before departure or mid-voyage."

Theus thought back to what he could remember from his visions… He remembered a transmission being sent… But it was from a single, skeletal figure. This wasn't just one person. This was six. One of them in need of medical attention.

He doesn't know who these people are. Or what species they were. Or what language they spoke.

But if this is what is being shown to him?

He doesn't care.

"DovahCom. Initiate the live translator and establish a connection to the vessel's comms."

"As you wish, sir."

It was one thing setting everything up on the Nadoria side of things. It was another thing waiting to see if they would pick up the phone. Theus would wait patiently as the Domeplex's adaptive translation system would launch and for the signal to reach the vessel. Eventually, the connection would be established. The holograms changed from their previous display to a single one; a live waveform visualizer.

"Communication has been established. Translator active."

Theus took a breath, gathering the words to say as he got into the proper demeanor of a leader.

"This is Theus Valentin of the Valentin Legacy. I extend my greetings to you and welcome you to Nadoria. We mean you no harm in any manner. If I may ask, what is it that you seek?"

There was a pause before a deep, masculine voice spoke from the other side… The tone… Pleading.

"We- We need… Help."

Theus' heart jumped.

"…Who is speaking right now?"

Another pause as the translation would pass through.

"I… M-my name is Xavier."

"…Xavier Rotom."

#iris official #kinder iris #kinder iris ; yonder #theus valentin #dovahcom #not canon to iris #or solitude for that matter

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goldenavenger02 · 8 months

Text

Chapter 4: It Still Haunts Your Dreams

Final chapter! Thank you all so much for making this fic a sucsess. I haven't written a multi-chapter fic in this fandom since I first joined, but the reception of it makes me think I should do more of these.

And now, on with the story!

"Here," Kai yawned as he slid the mug of tea over to Lloyd on the kitchen island, "do you want to talk about it?"

"It's nothing."

"You were hyperventling in your sleep. Last time I checked, that meant something." Kai deadpanned as he brought his own mug to his lips, hoping that the chamomile would calm both of their nerves.

It had worked all of those years ago when the two of them were awake at some point every night because of Morro, but Kai was still taking in all of the changes from the Merge. How much Lloyd had changed from the Merge.

"It's really stupid, I'm sure it means nothing."

"It was another vision?"

"I think so," Lloyd nodded, tracing the rim of the mug with his finger, "I wish my uncle had given me some pointers on how to tell the difference."

"He used to meditate all the time, and something about spirit smoke but he could have been high for all I know."

"I doubt that, Master Wu was kind of a stickler with that stuff," Lloyd laughed hollowly before taking another sip of his tea, "you think Zane could help?"

"He doesn't actually dream, so he always knows when he has a vision," Kai shook his head before he realized what Lloyd had said before he asked his question, "how do you know that your uncle was strict about drugs?"

"Anyway, I'm sure it's nothing," Lloyd skated around the question a bit too quickly and Kai wondered if steam was actually coming out of his ears or if his face was enough to convey it, "oh come on, you think I actually did drugs?"

'Thank the master.'

"-more than once?"

"What?"

"I…It was while I was working in the city, washing windows." Lloyd's voice grew unnaturally quiet as he looked down at the ground.

'Right, after Nya was lost…' Now that he thought about it, he wasn't sure anyone with the exception of Cole had developed healthy coping mechanisms during that period of time.

"Anyway, the vision, it was…it wasn't as bad as the last one, with the gravestones and the hoods."

"Is that supposed to be comforting?" Kai joked, but Lloyd seemingly found no humor in it as he explained.

"I was standing in a dark room. I heard a gong being hit and then a bright, red moon rose over me. All I could think was that I had to run, I had to get out of there and when I looked back, there was a massive, glowing wolf head rising from the ground."

"Holy shit." If his mental image was anything to go by, it made sense why Lloyd had been screaming so loud that he had woken up thinking that someone was getting murdered in the monastery.

"I hope that was a fucking dream, because that is terrifying," Kai added after a beat of silence before getting up to wash the now empty mugs, "do you need to watch Starfarer or something, to get your mind off of it?"

Lloyd's nod was all the confirmation he needed to lead the young master into the living room and turn on the tv before he started flipping through the channels, hoping to find something in Ninjargon since Nya still hadn't gotten around to reprogramming the tv.

He wasn't sure when Lloyd shut his eyes, but he knew that he was still flipping through the channels when he felt the pressure on his shoulder increase and heard the light snores.

"Don't worry, bud, you're not losing me again" he whispered as he let the game show play softly in the background, "and even if your dream isn't real, I'll still protect you."

#ninjago #lego ninjago #whump #my writing #fic #angst #lloyd garmadon #spider-man #ninjago kai #ninjago dragons rising #speculation #nightmares #multichapter #angst with a happy ending

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swampratsstuff · 2 years

Text

Part 2?

Levi x Reader (kind of?)

reader has name

It felt like hours had passed as you and Levi sat in silence. He was doing his best to let you try to process the information for as long as you needed.

“Where am I?” You finally croak out, but immediately doubled over in pain. Your stomach was empty and cramping to a nearly unbearable point. Not to mention the rawness of your throat from dehydration.

“Before we continue this conversation we need to get some food in you. How many days has it been since you’ve eaten or had water?”

“Two or three days for food, and I drank some water from the shower,” you replied sheepishly.

Levi shook his head in disgust. Not at you, but the way the slave traders treated you. “I thought so. Come on, let’s go find you something in the kitchen.”

He started for the kitchen and you followed quietly behind him. Murmurs and whispers erupted throughout the castle as you followed him. You kept your head down and avoided anyones eyes out of fear. If they’re vampires, who else is? Will they kill you? So many questions raced through your mind and you caught yourself reaching for Levi’s coat out of fear. You needed something to anchor you and so far he’s made you feel safer than anyone else here. But you stopped yourself just as your fingers grazed the fabric.

“You okay back there?” He asked, glancing back for a second to see the intense look of fear in your eyes.

You ignored him and continued to follow through long hallways and down a stone spiral staircase until you reached the kitchen.

“Leave,” Levi barked at the staff residing inside.

“Yes, Captain Levi,” they all replied in unison and scurried from the kitchen. Levi gestured to the table in the middle for you to sit down.

You place yourself down in the seat and look around at the kitchen. It had modern equipment but was covered in brick and stone. It was quite beautiful.

“Is bread and cheese okay?” Levi asked you. You barely nod as he moves quickly around the kitchen for you.

After gathering everything on a tray, he placed it in front of you where you wasted no time in grabbing for the water. You gulped it down quickly, leaving yourself panting as water ran down the side of your face.

Levi quirked an eyebrow up at you as his lips twitched into a small smile. “More?”

“Yes, please.”

He filled your glass again as you tore off bits of bread and cheese. The bread was delicious and fresh and made you feel ravenous. You tried your best to eat small bites to not make yourself sick but it was hard.

“Alright now you’re better equipped to ask questions. Your stomach rumbling was distracting.”

“You could hear that?”

Levi nodded and tried to not watch you as you ate.

“I never got your name,” Levi said.

You gulp down the bread you had in your mouth. “Clover.”

Cute. Levi shook the thought from his brain and cleared his throat. “I’m Captain Levi Ackerman, Zeke’s personal guard.”

You cringe at Zeke’s name. Zeke. Your new what? Master? What is he going to have you call him? What will he do to you?

“You never fully answered me earlier,” you tell him. “Why am I here, Levi?”

He sighed and rubbed a hand down his face. He hated this part. He hated all of it but seeing the horrified expressions on these women’s faces was haunting. He couldn’t look at you when he told you.

“You…,” he started, then sighed before continuing. “You were taken here from Marley to be a slaved feeder. A blood slave.”

“That’s what I thought,” you mumbled, setting down the piece of bread you had in your hand. Your stomach turned as images flooded your brain of being fed on by people. By Zeke. Would Levi get access to you too? He had been making you feel more comfortable and safe by the minute but that snapped. You couldn’t trust anyone here.

“What made you guess it?”

“Why else would my blood type and virginity matter? I was either going to be used for breeding or this and well, the whole vampire thing kind of gives it away.”

Levi stayed silent, not knowing what to say.

“Wait,” you said quietly as his words really began to sink in. From Marley. Panic began to set in and you stood up, sending the chair clattering to the floor behind you. “Wait no. What do you mean taken from Marley? Where the fuck am I?”

Levi reached his hands out to calm you, but you backed away from him.

“Clover, you’re in Eldia.”

Eldia? Fucking Eldia?

“Oh Maker,” you whisper. Oxygen started to become harder to get as you began to hyperventilate. Ringing started in your ears as you sank down onto your knees and tears start spilling over. “I thought it was just a mean thing people would say. But Eldia is really full of devils.”

The insult didn’t hurt Levi’s feelings at all. If he were from Marley he would probably think the same. You especially had every right to look at them as devils. As monsters.

He looked away as you sobbed on the floor. You wanted to be strong and be that girl who was stoic and strong. But you were terrified. You were in enemy territory where you would most likely die and there was no way of just running home. There was no way of escaping. The realization was overwhelming.

A soft knock brought you and Levi’s attention to the woman at the door. She curtsied and bowed her head at Levi.

“Sorry, Captain Levi,” she said as she glanced briefly at your tear stained face, then back at him. “Her room is ready.”

Levi nodded and sent her away. He sighed and walked over to you, extending his hand to help you up.

“Come on, let’s get you to your room,” he said. You weren’t worried about him hurting you anymore as you grab his hand to help you off the cold floor. You didn’t care if you died anymore. There was no point when there was no way of getting home and you were guaranteed a life of misery and pain here.

You followed Levi back through the castle to a wooden door next to Zeke’s room. It also had a keypad lock to it, where Levi shielded you from seeing the code as he put it in.

The room inside was very different from Zeke’s. It was much smaller and looked more like the rest of the castle with dark, wooden floors, rock work walls, and two slender windows on either side of a Queen sized bed. A small bathroom and a small closet attached to the room on the left side as well.

“There’s a phone over there that can make calls to certain numbers. Mine is in there if you need me, as well as the kitchens number if you need food,” Levi said as you stepped in. You nodded silently and glanced to where he pointed at the nightstand. “I’ll have someone come up and measure you for your size so clothes can be bought for you.”

Levi turned to walk out but you grabbed the cuff of his sleeve to stop him.

“Wait,” you whispered meekly. “My friend was with me when I was taken. Her name is Jane. Do you think you could find out where she is? If she’s dead?”

Levi stared at you as he thought about your question. It would be a waste of his time to do it, but you just looked so sad. So defeated. He couldn’t help but want to bring some light to your face- and him be the reason why.

“I’ll see what I can find out.”

You let his sleeve go with a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Levi.”

He nodded and started for the door but stopped before closing it behind him. “By the way, this door has a electronic lock on both sides. I’m not allowed to give you the code. Once this door is shut you can’t leave unless someone else opens it for you.”

You swallowed the panic that was starting to bubble up and nodded your head. You watched him leave and as soon as the door was shut, you let out a wailing cry that was closer to a scream.

Two days passed before Zeke finally called for you. You had spent the days going from the bathtub to the bed, over and over. Whichever sounded better. The food was at least good. And the clothes they brought you were a good mix of comfortable and casual and sandals, at your request. The weather was warm so they brought some short dresses and skirts- at Zeke’s request. All the necklines for the shirts made your neck and shoulders easily accessible.

Levi knocked then entered your room to find you laid on the bed staring at the ceiling. This was the first time you had seen him since the first day you were here.

“Zeke is ready to see you.”

The words sent chills down your spine. If there were anymore tears for you to cry you would have shed them. But you were all dried up at this point. You nodded and got up to follow him.

He lead you next door to Zeke’s open door.

When you walked in, your smell practically hit Zeke like a train and his fangs extended from his gums involuntarily. He couldn’t believe he couldn’t smell you when he first saw you.

“You may leave us, Levi.”

Levi hesitated as he glanced at you. He knew you were scared and he hated to leave you alone with him. But this was part of the job. This was the routine. This is why he didn’t get attached or remember faces. Yours was going to be so hard to forget.

Levi left you in the room with the vampire that now owns you. Zeke patted the sofa cushion next to him, inviting you to sit. You chewed your lip nervously and carefully watched him as you sat down.

You sat as far away as possible from him on the sofa. You could see the way he hungrily watched you as you walked towards him. It was extremely unnerving.

“So,” he started, smiling as he eyed you up and down. He held his gaze on your throat before coming up to meet your eyes. “I’m glad you’re here, Clover.”

‘Against my will’ you wanted to say.

You hated the way he said your name. It made your skin crawl. You fought every urge to cringe away from him when he said it. Levi must have told him what it was.

“I’m Zeke, as I’m sure Levi told you. I hope he’s at least told you why you’re here, and broke the news to you that vampires exist.”

That word. Vampire. It still didn’t feel real to you.

“Yes,” you whispered, eyes cast down to your fingers you have been nervously picking at.

“I’m sure it’s a bit of a shock. I hope you’ve adjusted some. You’ll learn to enjoy it here, I promise.”

You felt your hair be pushed away from your neck and Zeke shift closer. You cringe away but he grabs your shoulder to hold you still as he puts his face in your neck and inhales.

“Fuck,” he groaned. “You’re going to taste so good.”

You heard the click of his fangs and you sucked in a shuttering breath. Fear had struck every bit of your nerves and you do your best not to cry. You try to think of happy last thoughts.

Your parents. You hope they don’t mourn you for too long and that they know you loved them.

Your favorite moments with your friends. Flashes of memories with them rushed through your brain.

Zeke’s grip was so tight as he scraped his sharp teeth across your smooth skin. He resisted the urge to moan as he imagined what your blood will taste like as it pours into his mouth.

When his fangs finally prick your skin, you gasp at the sharpness. But the pain quickly subsided and turned into almost a pleasure. Your body relaxed in Zeke’s arms as he greedily lapped up the blood that poured down your neck and down your shirt.

Your blood was the most delectable thing he had ever tasted.

He groaned and forced himself to not drain you dry. He couldn’t. He needed to taste this for as long as he possibly could. The Virgin blood was always going to be sweet but that wasn’t even the best part. There was something in your blood that was nearly irresistible.

He pulled himself off of you as you laid limp and in a blissful sedation. He ripped your shirt from your body and ran his tongue over every inch of where your blood had run down between your breasts. This wasn’t sexual for him in the least- purely for the sake of the beast within him not wanting to waste a drop of your precious blood.

Once he lapped up the last of it of your body, he collapsed next to you, breathless and more than satisfied. Your blood was better than any sex or drug or drink he had ever had.

It was intoxicating and you were all his.

#levi fanfiction #levi aot #vampire au #aot fanfiction #levi x you #reader has name

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moseslikellamas · 8 days

Text

Cinders in the Dark Chapter Eleven

Pairing - Benjicot Blackwood x Whent!OC

Summary - Lucinda finally gets some answers about the burning man haunting her, only to create more questions surrounding Lord Blackwood.

Warnings - Magic, delusions, trickery, frightening imagery, forced marriage, mentions of death, blood, mention of suicidal ideation,depiction of burns, depictions of panic attack, anxious thoughts, grief, violent fantasies, not canon, Kieran Burton fancast.

Word count - 2.2k

Yippie!! This artwork has been living rent free in my head since I started this story so I am very happy to actually post it!!

Dinner was a comical affair with the two of them sitting at opposite ends of the massive table. She wouldn’t even be able to hear him if he decided to grace her with conversation, not that he ever would. They’d been silently eating for a solid fifteen minutes and she was getting annoyed with his lack of communication. She picked up her goblet and swirled the tart cider before knocking it back. She then picked up her plate and walked half a league to join him at the other end of the table. She slammed her plate down with unnecessary force and made sure to loudly drag her chair back as she sat. Lord Blackwood regarded her with amusement twinkling in his eyes. She was not amused in the slightest and her frustration finally peaked when he went back to eating. She threw her fork at him.

“Are you prepared to talk or not? Gods above, some of us have things to do other than brooding and looming you know.” She rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and slumped back in her chair.

To his credit, he was remarkably calm for someone who’d just had a fork thrown at him from three seats down. But a flicker of fear went through her, when his eyes met hers they were smoldering with displeasure. He sat stiff as a board, shoulders straight and tensed before setting his own utensils down.

“I’m sorry since when is running a castle, ‘brooding and looming’?”

“Oh don’t be daft.” She groaned. “I don’t care what you get up to.”

It was a bit much to steal a castle and then complain about having to run said stolen property. But who was she to criticize? A long pause followed her words.

“Can we just have a normal conversation? You do know how those go right?”

He was nearly smiling at her now, it was weird. “I’ve been to court more recently than you. If anyone is lacking in social graces, I think we know who it is.” He waved her thrown fork back at her.

That piqued her interest. She wondered when he’d been at court and for what reason. The last time she had been invited to court, she was fourteen. It had been an informative time and she’d been glad to leave her cursed home. But ultimately she was not made for court life and after a year everyone had been glad to see her go, herself included. She wondered if he had been good at playing the game or if he had been just as aloof there. It probably worked for him either way, being a man afforded social privileges closed to her.

“Oh, and did they appreciate your sullen silence?” Was all she said instead.

“No, I’m quite charming.”

She laughed at that, unable to stop herself. She tried to imagine him beside the many Targaryen princes and princesses. But it was hard to picture him in Kings Landing surrounded by all of that red brick when he looked so at home against the dark stone walls of Harrenhal. She wondered who his favorite was and who he couldn’t stand. She let herself be swept up in something as mundane as court drama for a moment. She tried to picture him talking to haughty prince Jacaerys or examining bugs with princess Helaena. But despite that comical image in her mind, there were more important matters to be discussing.

“Do you believe me about the burning man or not?” She asked abruptly, changing the conversation and the mood in the room. Lord Benjicot’s near smile left his face with haste at her question.

“I believe you.”

He bit out at last and she couldn’t help the relieved sigh that escaped her. Maybe together with the help of the witch in the tall tower, they might do something about the horrifying visage haunting her.

“Wonderful to hear.” She said sarcastically, it was to keep the resentment out of her tone. “Now that we’re done investigating the obvious, how about we come up with a plan to get rid of it.”

Now the lord laughed, a deep chilling chuckle that built as time went on. It held the edge of hysteria in it that was worrying her.

“You still don’t get it.”

She stared at him half angry and half terrified. Nothing he could say would bring her peace but she had to know anyway.

“Then, please, enlighten me.” She spread her hands out in a dramatic fashion.

He stood and in a stride he was beside her, dragging the two of them into the study. She still could not bring herself to refer to it as his study, though undoubtedly it now was. His brisk manner was not surprising but the frantic undercurrent that lined his every action was. She watched as he rifled through his desk, pulling papers out and opening different tomes. He muttered to himself all the while, seemingly having forgotten her presence until he glanced up and motioned for her to sit. Despite the simmering panic inside her, she did.

He handed her a book opened to a page of the castle they were sitting in. It was a picture of the castle unmelted, original and whole. It shouldn’t exist, Aegon the conqueror melted it the day it was finished. She doubted scarcely a soul had remembered what the finished castle looked like before it was destroyed. She eyes him suspiciously.

“Where’d you get this?”

“I’ll tell you later, flip to the next page.”

Mildly annoyed, she turned the page and scrunched her face up in confusion as she read.

“What is this?” She demanded by the fourth line.

“Original builder for castle Harrenhal. That’s their personal journal.”

“Let me clarify, I meant where the fuck did you get it?”

She turned the book over in her hands, it was made of supple leather that had been dyed a dark shade of blue. It should not exist. It was too old, too precious, something better left forgotten. And Lord Blackwood had gotten his hands on it first. While she was busy being psychically terrorized, he was unraveling the secret she’d been investigating her entire life. It put a sour taste in her mouth.

“Oh you know how the castle is, stumble into a room and you might find something worth having.”

That was a load of shit if she ever heard it. This place didn’t give you anything, least of all something as valuable as that book, for nothing. He’d paid some price for that and she wanted to know what it was. More importantly she needed to start figuring out what magic he was performing, everyone in this blasted place was practicing magic except for her. She aimed to fix that problem. Knowing he wouldn’t outright tell her how he’d acquired it, she filed away the conversation for later.

“And this involves the burning man…? How exactly?”

“Because I’m pretty sure that guy bound your burning man to the castle.”

Her blood froze at his words and all of the air was sucked from her lungs. Then she exhaled quickly and gripped the chair armrest tightly.

“So this castle has always had a magic freak in it, good to know.” She shot him the foulest look she could summon. Then she slumped back in her chair, exasperated. She motioned for him to continue.

“The principles we both used are different. Obviously ours was a pact of marriage, whereas in the journal it seems like some sort of warrior oath.”

She stood and walked around the desk to examine the passage with him.

I made the decision last night. The lord has already agreed of course. He would agree to anything in his insatiable greed but that’s not what I came to discuss. I have decided on doing the binding tonight, starting with just the one. Best to see how that one goes before we waste anymore men. The gods know we’ve buried enough of them here already. If all goes according to plan, it should allow the man to feel the lifeblood of the castle. Giving him better access to security and a heightened intuition for trouble or danger while within its walls. Granted there is the chance he just explodes, the sheer amount of magical energy that will be running through him will be astonishing. The magic imbued within these walls is deep and strong. Not something….”

He turned the page before she could finish reading, much to her dismay. The next entry was rushed, the hand writing sloppier than in the previous one.

It worked! Well it sort of worked. The man, a random guard I plucked from a crowd of way too many, said he could feel the energy of the castle. It was magnificent! Just a truly wonderful success! I plan to start the next round sometime in the next moon. I need time to properly prepare but with results like these? I need to move quickly! When the guild hears of this, they’ll be tearing down the walls trying to talk to me.

The next entry was barely legible.

I don’t understand how this could happen. He was there one moment and then he was just… never wanted for th… I can only say it was reassuring that he went quickly. I cannot imagine the agony… en said bury the evidence within the c…. I cannot enter them.

When the Lord closed the book she made her way back to her seat, still confused.

“What happened? I don’t understand.”

“I think you do.” He said gesturing towards her arm.

She glanced down, seeing the pink and puckered skin. It was still so tender to the touch despite its nearly healed state.

“He tried to leave?”

“My guess is he didn’t try, he succeeded. Probably got a lot further across the boundary line than you did.”

A horrible realization dawned on her then. It could’ve just as easily been her. If she’d gotten further, if her horse hadn’t thrown her, she might be a flayed and burning woman right now. She felt sick and dizzy as she stood.

“You… you almost condemned me to that.” She wheezed, stepping cautiously away from him.

He looked at her with an iron gaze, hands clasped in front of him and shook his head. “You almost did it to yourself.”

Then he stood and the two of them danced across the floor. He was always advancing and she was always retreating. A familiar refrain that dominated her life now.

“You’re not allowed to leave the grounds.”

“Oh yeah and I was supposed to know you bound me magically to the castle. That’s a reasonable assumption for sure!”

This time she did not let her back slam into the study doors, she had been prepared. She grabbed the handle and thrust them open, walking backwards out of the study. She kept her eyes fixed on him the whole time.

“I’d say given the circumstances it was a reasonable assumption. Now stay still.”

Against every fiber in her being that screamed for her to keep moving she stopped in her tracks. She glared at him, the sound of her heartbeat heavy in her ears.

“Given we don’t know what else might happen to you, I recommend you stop exploring.”

She was seething with every word.

“You were gone for days.” He stressed when it became apparent she was displeased with his proposed plan of action. “What if next time it's months?”

All the better to avoid you, she thought. But not really meaning it. She did not like that she could not remember where she’d been. And she liked the thought even less now that she knew the burning man was an ancient warrior soul forever bound to these cursed walls. Not exactly who you want to be traipsing around with. She nodded tensely as a way of answer. He held out his arm for her and she took it, scheming the entire time about how to steal that journal from him. She was thinking so intently about it that she didn’t notice he’d led them back into the main dining hall. She didn’t notice when she took her seat or even as she poured herself a glass of cider. It was easy to forget his presence and she really wanted to see that journal. She resolved to rifle through the study when he was out doing whatever it was he did.

It was then that she heard it. That slow crackle like popping wood in the fireplace that preceded a smell of charred bones. She was out of her seat before she made a conscious decision to move. She moved away from the table, able to hear and smell the man, she wanted to see him as well. Needed to confront him and demand to know why he was haunting her dreams. She needed to know where he’d taken her. When she reached the far side of the room, where the dais stood empty as it had since the day her step mother died, he was there. Kneeling, a smoldering mass of bones lay waiting for her. The flames were bright and writhed against the bones that burned white under the heat. His hands were folded neatly against his knee and she could feel the life behind those empty voids staring into the center of her being. She turned to face Lord Blackwood at the sound of him drawing his sword. The sound of steel against metal was so quiet in comparison to the burning inferno in front of her.

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